#the queen of fangs and steel

[novaursa]

The Last Dragonslayer (The Lost Chapters)

- Summary: One last tale of the Dragon Queen and her Dragonslayer.

- Paring: female!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. The conclusion of this story has been expanded by popular demand.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Previous part: 2/2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

Above the God's Eye

The wind howls above the God's Eye, where the skies churn with dark clouds. You can feel the heavy weight of your sword at your side, its hilt familiar in your grip, the legacy of your ancient order pulsing through the blade. Below you, the twisted expanse of Harrenhal rises, a testament to the folly of dragons and men. But your focus is not on the crumbled towers or the history beneath your feet. Your gaze locks onto the monstrous shadow circling in the distance—Vhagar. The largest, oldest dragon in all the Seven Kingdoms, her scales rippling like molten jade under the waning light.

Aemond Targaryen rides upon her back, his long silver hair streaming like a banner of defiance against the darkening sky. The patch over his eye gleams, a stark reminder of the hatred he harbors for you. You feel it as sharply as your own, a hatred forged in fire and blood. But there is something else beneath his fury—a fear he won’t admit, one that only you, of all people, can summon in him.

You stand tall on the back of your mount, the Banshee—a creature from the depths of the world, more beast than dragon, her long leathery wings blotting out the sun as she shrieks across the sky. It is a scream like no other, a sound that turns dragonfire cold, that sends a shiver of dread through creatures bred for conquest. Your Banshee is a nightmare made flesh, darker than the sky itself, larger than any dragon. Her glowing green eyes narrow with hunger, fangs bared in anticipation of the kill.

Aemond circles above you, tugging at Vhagar’s reins. His voice reaches you across the distance, carried on the wind like a taunt.

"Run while you still can, Y/N!" he bellows, his arrogance sharp. "You cannot hope to defeat the might of Vhagar. You will die like the rest of your kind—forgotten, a relic of Essos, your bones dust beneath dragon fire."

You say nothing in response, only urging the Banshee forward with the barest of commands. She roars, a chilling sound that cuts through the sky like a blade, and you feel the thrill of her power beneath you. A primal connection between rider and beast, honed through generations of bloodlines. Your people were not conquered by the Valyrians—they resisted, even as the Freehold rose in dominance. Dragons fell to your blades, your creatures hunted them to extinction in your homeland. The legacy lives through you, and today, it will be written in blood.

Vhagar turns, her massive wings unfurling as she prepares to attack. The ancient dragon’s roar echoes like a crack of thunder, but the Banshee is unphased. You’ve seen this dance before—dragons are always arrogant until they’re faced with something that terrifies them. Vhagar hesitates, her massive body trembling, but Aemond snarls and spurs her forward.

“Do it!” Aemond shouts. “Burn her alive!”

Vhagar releases a torrent of fire, but the Banshee dives beneath it with lethal speed, cutting through the air like a shadow. You’re already on the move, sword drawn, the ancient steel gleaming with deadly intent. The Banshee spins through the sky, her wings slashing at the air as she rises above Vhagar, letting loose another scream, one that rattles even your bones.

Vhagar falters. The sound is too much, too unnatural. She tries to retreat, her instincts urging her to flee, but Aemond yanks on her reins, refusing to give in to fear.

"Fight, you stupid beast!" Aemond’s voice is filled with desperation now, but you can see the fear in his remaining eye. He knows, even if he won’t admit it.

You push the Banshee into a dive, the wind screaming past you as you close the distance. Vhagar rears back, trying to snap at you with her massive jaws, but the Banshee is faster, more agile. She lashes out with her talons, sinking them deep into Vhagar's neck. Blood erupts from the wound, spraying the sky in a crimson mist. Vhagar roars in agony, thrashing wildly as she tries to shake the Banshee off.

Aemond’s curses are drowned out by the sound of his dragon’s suffering. He clings desperately to Vhagar’s saddle, struggling to maintain control as the Banshee rips into her flesh with relentless ferocity. Your sword flashes, and you bring it down in a deadly arc, slicing through the thick, leathery membrane of Vhagar’s wing. She howls, the injury throwing her off balance as she plummets toward the lake below.

But the Banshee is not done. She dives again, her jaws locking around Vhagar’s throat, and with a sickening crunch, she rips it open. Blood pours from the wound, a river of hot, steaming liquid that paints the sky red. Vhagar's struggles grow weaker, her mighty wings faltering as she begins to fall. But even as her life fades, the Banshee does not stop.

Her jaws clamp down on Vhagar’s still-beating heart, ripping it from the dragon’s chest. The wet, sickening sounds of flesh tearing and bones snapping fill the air as the Banshee devours it whole. You watch as she tears into the liver next, blood drenching the sky as she feasts on the dying dragon.

Aemond, thrown from the saddle by Vhagar’s final thrash, scrambles to his feet on a small outcrop of rock. His once-proud visage is now twisted in disbelief, covered in the blood of his dragon. He stares at you, fury and fear mixing in his violet eye.

"You—" he starts, but he doesn’t get to finish.

With one swift motion, the Banshee turns her gaze toward him. Her glowing eyes lock onto him, and she lets out a low, rumbling growl. You don’t need to give the command. She strikes like a predator who knows her prey, her jaws snapping around Aemond’s body. His scream is brief, cut off as the Banshee crushes him with a sickening crunch. Blood spills from her mouth as she devours him, piece by piece.

It’s over in moments.

The skies are quiet now, save for the distant echo of your Banshee’s final shriek as she consumes the last of Aemond’s body. You sit atop her back, your heart steady, your breathing calm. The blood of Targaryens, of dragons, stains the air, marking the end of one more chapter in this endless cycle of fire and blood.

You lean forward, resting a hand on the Banshee’s neck as she licks her blood-soaked jaws. "Let them remember this day," you whisper. "Let them remember what happens when dragons challenge those born to slay them."

The wind carries your words across the battlefield, to the ashes of a dragon that once ruled the skies, and to the man who thought himself invincible.

The Dragon Prince and the Dragonslayer

The courtyard of Dragonstone is alive with the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore, the wind carrying the salty tang of the Narrow Sea. You stand in the center of the courtyard, sword in hand, its weight an old, familiar comfort. The sword is unlike any in Westeros—its hilt and blade adorned with intricate designs that speak of its Essosi origin. Passed down through generations of your family, it is a weapon forged not just for battle, but for the ancient art of swordplay, a style lost to time.

Luke stands before you, eyes wide and eager, his own sword gripped tightly in his hands. The boy has always had a fire in him, a determination that you recognize, but today there’s something more—a request that he’s hesitant to voice.

“Are you sure, Lucerys?” you ask, your voice calm but firm. “This isn’t something you learn overnight. It’s not like the training you’ve had.”

Luke’s jaw tightens, but there’s a spark of excitement in his violet eyes as he nods. “I’m sure, Y/N. I want to learn. I’ve seen you fight. It’s different. It’s... graceful but deadly. I want to be able to protect my family, to fight for my mother. Please, teach me.”

You tilt your head slightly, studying him. He’s young, still growing into himself, but there’s no mistaking the resolve in his voice. This is more than just curiosity—this is about loyalty, about becoming someone his family can depend on in times of war.

“Very well,” you say, stepping back and motioning for him to take his stance. “We’ll start with the basics. Forget what you’ve learned with the knights and their heavy blades. This style isn’t about brute force. It’s about precision, timing, and reading your opponent.”

Luke’s brow furrows as he shifts into the stance he’s been taught, but it’s rigid, his grip too tight on the hilt. You circle him, the soft clink of your sword against your thigh the only sound between you.

“Relax,” you say, tapping his shoulder lightly. “Your sword isn’t a hammer. Loosen your grip. Feel the flow of the blade, not the weight.”

Luke adjusts, trying to mimic your posture, but it’s awkward, his movements still tied to the way he’s been taught to fight. You stop in front of him, reaching out to gently correct his grip, your fingers wrapping around his wrist as you guide him into position.

“Think of it like a dance,” you instruct. “You move with your sword, not against it. Watch.”

You take a step back, lifting your own sword. With a fluid movement, you swing the blade in a graceful arc, slicing through the air with precision and speed. It’s a dance, each movement flowing into the next, your feet shifting lightly on the stone floor. Luke watches, mesmerized by the ease with which you wield your sword.

“See?” you say, coming to a stop, the sword resting lightly at your side. “You let the blade guide you. Don’t fight it. Let’s try again.”

Luke nods, determination etched on his face. He takes a deep breath, mimicking your movements as best as he can, but there’s still hesitation in his swings. You step in close again, showing him how to shift his weight, how to flow through the movements instead of forcing them.

“You’ll get there,” you assure him, seeing the frustration flicker in his eyes. “This isn’t about being perfect right away. It’s about learning how to adapt, how to use your opponent’s strength against them.”

For the next hour, you guide him through the basics, correcting his stance, showing him how to strike with precision rather than power. There’s sweat on his brow, but he doesn’t complain. He listens, he watches, and slowly, you begin to see the change. His movements become less stiff, more fluid. There’s a natural grace in him that surprises even you.

"Like that?" he asks, a hopeful glint in his eyes after a particularly well-executed swing.

You nod, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Better. You’re learning quickly. But remember, this isn’t just about the sword. It’s about the mind. You have to stay calm, even when the battle rages around you.”

Luke nods, his expression serious. “I’ll keep practicing. Thank you, Y/N.”

You sheath your sword and place a hand on his shoulder, giving him an approving look. “You have the heart for it, Luke. That’s what matters most. But don’t forget to take your time. Don’t rush what you’re not ready for.”

As you speak, the familiar sound of footsteps catches your attention, and you turn to see Rhaenyra approaching from the far end of the courtyard. She’s draped in black and red, her long silver hair billowing slightly in the wind. Her eyes fall on you first, and then on Luke, her expression softening as she watches the two of you together.

"Mother," Luke greets, sheathing his sword and offering her a small smile.

Rhaenyra’s gaze lingers on him for a moment before she turns to you, a faint smile playing on her lips. “I see you’ve been giving Lucerys lessons. Did he beg, or did you volunteer?”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “He asked, and I couldn’t say no. He’s determined. He wants to protect you.”

Rhaenyra moves closer, her gaze flicking between you and Luke. There’s pride in her eyes, but also a deep, unspoken worry. The war is heavy on her shoulders, and she knows what it means for her children. She steps closer to Luke, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“You’ve made me proud, my son,” she says softly, her voice filled with warmth.

Luke looks up at her, the boyish smile returning to his face. “I’ll keep practicing, I promise.”

Rhaenyra kisses his forehead, then turns to you as Luke takes his leave, retreating to practice on his own. The courtyard feels quieter now, the air between you charged with a different kind of energy. Rhaenyra’s eyes meet yours, and there’s a softness there, a connection that has grown stronger with each passing day.

“You’re good with him,” she says, her voice quieter now, intimate. “He looks up to you.”

You step closer, close enough to feel the warmth of her body in the cool evening air. “He’s strong, Rhaenyra. He has your spirit.”

Her eyes search yours for a moment, and then, without hesitation, she closes the distance between you, her hand coming to rest on your arm, fingers trailing lightly over your skin. There’s a softness to her touch, but also a weight—a trust that goes beyond words.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “In this war, in this chaos… you’re my constant.”

You reach up, gently brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering there, caressing the soft curve of her jaw. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, your voice firm but tender. “I’ll fight for you. Always.”

Her lips curl into a soft smile, and then, slowly, she leans in, pressing her forehead to yours. There’s a peace in this moment, a stillness in the midst of the storm that rages beyond these walls. You close your eyes, breathing in the scent of her, feeling the warmth of her so close.

“You are my heart,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin. “And I am yours.”

You don’t need to say anything in response. The bond between you is deeper than words, forged in fire and blood, stronger than any sword. You stay like this for a moment longer, lost in each other, before she pulls back slightly, her hand still resting against your cheek.

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asks softly, a playful glint in her eye.

You smile, your fingers brushing over her hand as you nod. “I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, she turns, the lightness in her step a stark contrast to the heavy world that surrounds her. You watch her go, the warmth of her touch still lingering on your skin, knowing that no matter what battles lie ahead, no matter what enemies rise to face you—you will always stand by her side.

The Past Lives

The winds howl across the dark, jagged cliffs of Dragonstone, but you barely feel the cold. Standing at the edge of the precipice, the sky overhead is filled with swirling clouds, dark and tumultuous. Your eyes, however, are not on the present, not on the sea crashing below or the distant lights flickering from the castle behind you. No, your thoughts are far from this place, far from this time.

You have lived many lives. Far too many.

The weight of it presses down on you now, like an invisible chain that has grown heavier with every passing century. There was a time when you had felt invincible, when the bond between you and your Banshee was something you had reveled in. Immortality was not something you had feared—then, it had felt like freedom. The blood ritual that had sealed your fate had been your choice. You had chosen to bind yourself to your Banshee, chosen the power and the bond that came with it.

But time changes everything. You had no idea, back then, what it truly meant. You couldn’t have.

Your mind drifts to the ancient ruins of Valyria, now long turned to ash, but once an empire of impossible might. You were there when the Freehold ruled the skies, when dragons cast shadows over cities, and sorcerers shaped the world with fire and blood. Your people, the Dragonslayers, had been the last stand, the ones who resisted the dominion of dragons. You remember the battles fought in the sky, the screams of dragons as they fell to your blades and the primal terror they felt at the sound of a Banshee's scream. 

But your people are long gone now, consumed by the same fires that once forged them. You watched as the Doom swallowed Valyria, watched as your homeland crumbled under molten rock and fire. You fought, you survived, but the world you knew died that day. And with it, everyone you had once called kin.

Empires rose after that. You saw them all—the Free Cities, the Rhoynar, even the rise of Oldtown and the Reach. You fought in wars, watched as kings claimed thrones and lost them, as cities were built and then turned to rubble. And you never changed. The world around you shifted like the seasons, but you remained. Unaging, unyielding, bound to your Banshee, your soul entwined with hers.

At first, there had been others like you, remnants of your order who had survived the fall of Valyria. You remember them vividly, their faces, their voices, their laughter. You remember the brothers and sisters you had once fought beside, who had shared your bond. But even they could not withstand the toll of immortality. One by one, they had fallen—some to madness, some to the blade, and others to the slow decay of time. And you had been forced to watch it all.

You close your eyes, the weight of centuries pressing in on you. The names of those you loved haunt your thoughts. Faces flicker in your memory, faces of people long dead, faces you cannot forget. It is a terrible thing to love when you cannot die. To watch those you care for grow old, wither, and pass on while you remain. It is a curse as much as it is a blessing, this immortality.

A sigh escapes your lips, and you feel the presence of your Banshee nearby. Her glowing green eyes watch you from the shadows, her dark, leathery wings folded against her massive body. She is a part of you, and you of her. The bond between you runs deeper than blood, deeper than any love you have known. Yet even she cannot ease the pain of loss.

You think of the lovers you have had, the fleeting moments of happiness in an otherwise endless existence. There had been many over the centuries—strong, beautiful souls who had entered your life like flashes of light. But they were always temporary. Mortal. You had loved them fiercely, but they all left you in the end. Not by choice, but by the slow march of time. You remember holding their hands as their eyes dimmed, feeling the coldness creep into their skin as life slipped away. And you, left alone again, unchanged.

Until her.

Your thoughts drift to Rhaenyra. She is different, and yet she is the same. The moment you met her, you felt the familiar pull of love, the warmth that you had thought long gone. You had tried to resist it at first, tried to keep her at arm’s length, knowing the pain that would come. But Rhaenyra—stubborn, fierce, and full of fire—broke down your walls, just as others had before her. Now, you are bound to her, not by blood or ritual, but by something deeper.

But Rhaenyra is mortal. Like all the others. And you know, in your heart, what that means. You know how this will end.

A part of you wants to run, to leave her before the inevitable comes. You know that one day, you will have to watch her wither, to see the light leave her eyes as it has with so many others. You will have to endure the agony of her loss, just as you have with everyone else you’ve loved. The thought of it terrifies you, more than any battle, more than any dragon. 

You hear the soft rustle of footsteps behind you, and you turn slowly, already knowing who it is. Rhaenyra stands at the edge of the courtyard, her silver hair catching the faint light of the moon. She looks at you, her eyes searching yours, as if she can sense the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind.

"Y/N," she says softly, her voice gentle, yet filled with concern. "What troubles you?"

You don’t answer immediately, instead letting your eyes trace her face, memorizing every detail—the curve of her lips, the strength in her gaze. You wonder how long you will have with her before time claims her as it has claimed so many others. How long before you are left standing alone once again, the cold shadow of immortality your only companion.

Rhaenyra steps closer, her hand reaching out to rest on your arm, her touch warm and grounding. "You’ve been distant," she whispers, her brow furrowing slightly. "Please, talk to me."

For a moment, you are tempted to pull away, to retreat back into the safety of solitude. But her eyes hold you, her presence a balm against the ache in your heart. You sigh, your voice low and rough when you finally speak.

"Do you ever fear time, Rhaenyra?" you ask, your gaze distant. "Do you ever fear the years slipping away, taking everything and everyone you love with them?"

Rhaenyra frowns, tilting her head slightly. "Of course I do. Time spares no one. But that is why we must live now, in the present. Why we must cherish what we have, for however long we are given."

You look at her, your heart heavy. "But what if time spares one of us, and not the other? What if I must watch you wither and fade, as I have watched others before you?"

Rhaenyra's hand tightens around your arm, her expression softening with understanding. "You have seen more than any of us can imagine," she says quietly. "But that is not our fate. Our fate is what we make of it, here and now. You have me, Y/N. And I have you. We cannot fear the future, not when we still have each other."

Her words are a comfort, but the ache remains. You close your eyes, leaning into her touch, allowing yourself to feel the warmth of her hand against your skin, the steady beat of her heart. For now, she is here. For now, she is yours.

But in the back of your mind, the shadow of time looms, reminding you of what is to come. Always watching. Always waiting. 

And you, immortal and unchanging, will face it again.

The Rogue Prince

The sun hangs low over Dragonstone and the courtyard where you stand, gently tending to the Banshee. Her massive form is hunched, wings folded tight against her body as you move your hands over her dark leathery skin, inspecting every inch. The creature is quiet, save for the soft rumble of her breath, her green eyes glowing faintly as she watches you with an ancient understanding. There's a bond between you, one forged in blood and ritual, something deeper than words or time. A connection that goes beyond mere companionship.

But that connection, that understanding, is not one shared by anyone else. Especially not by those who feel the primal fear that the Banshee's presence invokes. She is a thing of nightmares, a creature bred to strike terror in the hearts of dragons and men alike.

You hear the soft crunch of boots on the stone behind you and know, without turning, who it is. Daemon Targaryen, always light on his feet, his presence unmistakable even when silent. He has an aura about him, a sense of command that fills any space he occupies. Still, you sense a hint of hesitation in his steps as he approaches the Banshee, something unusual for the Rogue Prince.

“You must have lost your nerve, Daemon,” you call over your shoulder, the faintest hint of amusement in your voice. “I never took you for a man who hesitated.”

Daemon’s voice, rich and low, carries a mocking edge as he replies, “I don’t hesitate, Y/N. I’m simply weighing whether or not I want to be torn apart by your little friend here.”

You laugh quietly, running a hand along the Banshee’s side, feeling the strength of her muscles under her skin. “She wouldn’t tear you apart—at least not if I told her not to.”

Daemon steps closer, his eyes fixed on the creature before him. Even for a man who rides Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, there’s a certain respect—or perhaps a deep-seated fear—in the way he regards the Banshee. Caraxes is terrifying, yes, but the Banshee is something different. Something older. Something darker.

“She looks like she crawled out of the Seven Hells,” he mutters, folding his arms as he studies the beast. “Is there any part of her that doesn’t scream death?”

You glance at him over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips. “She’s not so bad once you get used to her. A bit like you, I imagine.”

Daemon chuckles, moving even closer. He stops just a few paces away, the distance between him and the Banshee still deliberate. Her green eyes flicker toward him, a low rumble vibrating through her chest, but she doesn’t move. You can sense her wariness, her innate mistrust of anyone but you, but there’s no aggression in her stance. Not yet, at least.

Daemon’s eyes shift from the Banshee to you, his expression turning playful. “Does that thing even have a name? Or do you just call her ‘Beast’?”

You roll your eyes, returning to your task of checking the Banshee’s wings. “She has a name. But you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”

Daemon raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Wouldn’t I?”

“Not with that Valyrian tongue of yours,” you tease, glancing up at him. “It’s an old name, from my people’s language. Far older than any of your words.”

Daemon watches you for a moment, clearly intrigued. “Humor me. Let me hear it.”

You pause, running your hand along the edge of the Banshee’s massive wing. It’s a name that few have heard, fewer still have spoken aloud. A name passed down from generations of Dragonslayers, from a time when the world was different, when your people stood against the might of Valyria itself. You hesitate, knowing how the sound of it might unsettle even the most fearless of men. But then, Daemon is not most men.

You murmur the name softly, almost under your breath. It rolls off your tongue like a whisper of the wind, ancient and guttural, a sound not meant for human ears.

Daemon’s expression shifts as he hears it, his usual bravado tempered by something quieter, more thoughtful. “I see what you mean,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “I doubt I could manage that without a few drinks.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I told you. But she knows it, and that’s what matters.”

Daemon’s gaze drifts back to the Banshee, the massive creature still watching him with glowing eyes. He inches closer, almost imperceptibly, as if testing his own courage. He reaches a hand out, hovering just shy of the creature’s leathery skin, as if waiting for some signal from you—or perhaps from her—that it’s safe.

“She’s not like a dragon, is she?” he asks quietly, his voice no longer teasing.

You shake your head. “No. She’s older than dragons. The Banshee is a predator, made to hunt them. Her instincts are sharper, more calculating. But she’s loyal, in her way.”

Daemon lowers his hand slightly, his fingers brushing against the edge of the Banshee’s wing. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t move, accepting his touch with a kind of reluctant tolerance. You watch him carefully, knowing that this moment is not just about him facing the creature—it’s about him conquering the fear she inspires. And for a man like Daemon, fear is not something he allows himself often.

“You know,” Daemon says, his tone lighter again, “I’ve always thought dragons were the pinnacle of terror. Now, I’m starting to think there’s something worse.”

You smirk, folding your arms as you lean against the Banshee’s side. “Oh, trust me, Daemon, there are worse things in this world than dragons. Much worse.”

He glances at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Like you?”

You tilt your head, your eyes meeting his. “Perhaps.”

There’s a moment of silence between you, the air thick with unspoken understanding. Daemon is many things—arrogant, reckless, fierce—but he is also perceptive. He knows of your relationship with Rhaenyra, has seen the bond you share, and yet he does not object. Perhaps he respects the connection, perhaps he knows that you and Rhaenyra are tied by something deeper than even he could touch. Or perhaps it is simply that he, like you, understands the burden of being more than what the world expects.

“You’re a hard one to figure out,” Daemon says, stepping back from the Banshee and folding his arms again. “But I suppose that’s why Rhaenyra loves you.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “And you’re not?”

Daemon laughs, the sound rich and genuine, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, I’m an open book, Y/N. But you—you’re something else entirely.”

You shrug, turning back to the Banshee. “Maybe. Or maybe you just haven’t figured out how to read me yet.”

Daemon grins, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “Give me time.”

As he walks away, leaving you alone with your Banshee once more, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Daemon Targaryen may be many things, but fearful is not one of them. And perhaps, in some strange way, he understands you more than anyone else—because like you, he walks the line between power and fear, life and death.

And though the Banshee watches him with her glowing eyes, she too understands.

The Dragon Queen and her Dragonslayer

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was silent, save for the soft crackle of the torches lining the walls. The Iron Throne loomed before the gathered court, its jagged edges a testament to the power it represented. And seated upon it, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen—first of her name, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. She had worn the crown for years now, her reign hard-fought and blood-soaked. The weight of it showed in the lines that etched her once-youthful face, in the silver hair that had begun to streak with gray. But there was a strength in her still, the fierce fire of a Targaryen queen who had battled for her birthright.

Today, however, her thoughts were elsewhere. Far beyond the hall, beyond King’s Landing, beyond even the lands she ruled. They were with a memory—one that had haunted her for years. A memory of you.

The court was in session, lords and ladies arrayed before her, but she barely heard their voices. Her mind was with the last time she saw you, so many years ago now. You had saved her children, stopped the ships of the Free Cities at the Gullet, and then... vanished. You had promised to return, yet the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, and still, you had not come back. Rhaenyra had waited, even when reason told her that you were lost. And still, somewhere deep inside, she had never stopped waiting. But now, so many years later, even the hope had begun to fade.

Until today.

“Your Grace,” a guard interrupted her thoughts, stepping forward with a slight bow. “There is a visitor at the gates. They claim to be a close friend of the Queen, though they come from distant lands.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed, her gaze sharpening as she regarded the guard. “A close friend? Who?”

“They would not give a name, Your Grace,” the guard replied. “But they were insistent. Said you would know them.”

Rhaenyra’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she felt the familiar pull of hope, a sensation she had long buried beneath the weight of her duties and losses. She composed herself quickly, her voice steady, though her pulse quickened.

“Bring them in,” she commanded, her tone betraying none of the sudden storm inside her.

The court murmured softly, curious at this unexpected arrival, but Rhaenyra paid them no mind. She sat taller on the Iron Throne, her hands gripping the arms of the seat, her breath catching in her chest. Could it be? After all these years?

The great doors swung open, and the guards entered, flanking a figure draped in the travel-worn garb of distant lands. Your steps were measured, slow, as you crossed the hall. The torches flickered as you passed, casting shadows on your face, but Rhaenyra’s eyes never wavered. She knew you. She had never forgotten.

It was you.

You looked exactly as you had the day you left her—unchanged, untouched by time, your features sharp and ageless. Your eyes, those eyes she had known so well, gleamed with the same strength and wisdom that had captivated her so long ago. Your movements were graceful, as they had always been, as if the weight of the world did not cling to you as it did to everyone else.

Rhaenyra’s breath caught in her throat as her world tilted, the very axis of her reality shifting with your presence. Her mind struggled to grasp what her heart already knew—that you had come back. You hadn’t aged a day, while she had grown older, while years of ruling, of loss, had worn her down. And yet, here you were, as if time itself had no claim over you.

You stopped before the Iron Throne, your gaze meeting hers, and for a moment, the years fell away. You bowed your head slightly in respect, but there was a knowing smile on your lips, a look that spoke of secrets shared, of a bond that had never truly been severed.

“Your Grace,” you said, your voice like a familiar song, one Rhaenyra hadn’t realized she had been longing to hear. “It has been a long time.”

Rhaenyra’s fingers tightened around the arms of the throne, her heart racing as she fought to find words. “You...” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, disbelief and something more—something raw and painful—tangling in her throat. “You’ve come back.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” you said softly, your eyes never leaving hers. “I always keep my promises, Rhaenyra.”

At the sound of her name on your lips, something inside her broke. She rose from the Iron Throne, descending the steps slowly, her eyes locked on yours as if afraid that if she looked away, you might vanish again. The courtiers, the guards—none of them mattered. In this moment, it was just you and her, and the years that had stretched between you dissolved like mist.

When she reached you, she hesitated for a brief second before raising a hand to your cheek, her touch tentative, as though testing if you were real. The warmth of your skin, unchanged, made her heart ache with a mixture of relief and pain. She had waited so long.

“You haven’t aged,” she murmured, her voice low and filled with awe. “Not a day. How...?”

“I told you, Rhaenyra,” you replied, gently taking her hand in yours. “The bond with the Banshee—it comes with a price. Time doesn’t touch me the way it does others.”

Her eyes searched yours, filled with emotions too tangled to name. “And yet... you left. You didn’t return.”

“I had to protect your children,” you said softly, regret flickering in your voice. “And then, I couldn’t come back. There were things I needed to see, places I needed to go. I didn’t want to drag you into the curse of my immortality.”

Rhaenyra’s breath hitched as she heard the pain in your words. She had lost so much—friends, lovers, even family. But you... You had been her constant, her anchor in the storm. And now, here you were, offering her a path she had never imagined.

Your fingers gently entwined with hers, your grip steady and warm. “Come with me,” you whispered, your voice filled with the weight of centuries, with the promise of something beyond the world she knew. “I’ve seen worlds beyond this one, Rhaenyra. Places that would take your breath away. Let me show you.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze dropped to where your hands met, and for a long moment, she was silent. She thought of the realm she ruled, the Iron Throne that had been her father’s, her birthright. The crown that weighed so heavily upon her head. But then she thought of the years that stretched ahead—of the loneliness, the losses yet to come. Of the children who had grown, who no longer needed her in the same way.

Slowly, deliberately, Rhaenyra reached up and removed the crown from her head. It felt heavier than it ever had before. Without a word, she dropped it at the base of the Iron Throne, the clatter of metal against stone echoing in the silent hall.

She turned back to you, her lips curving into a smile that was filled with a rare lightness, a freedom she hadn’t felt in years. “I’m ready.”

Without hesitation, you took her hand, your grip firm as you led her away from the throne, away from the court, away from the world that had bound her for so long.

And that was the last time anyone ever saw the Dragonslayer or the Dragon Queen. The court whispered of their disappearance, of how the crown was left behind, a symbol of the queen who chose love and freedom over the weight of a kingdom. Some said they went east, to lands beyond Essos, to realms where dragons and gods walked side by side. Others said they were never seen again because they left this world entirely, into places where neither time nor death held sway.

But in every corner of Westeros, in every whispered legend, one thing remained clear—Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, had found her heart once more. And she had followed it beyond the edge of the world.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Listen, don’t tell canon Sukuna hold your back from delulu. But what if .. what if he lost someone?

Someone that was killed and whose weakness was they loved him? Like his s/o murdered in retaliation for his actions?

The shame and the guilt that he felt and that was the first and last time Sukuna let love distract him. I imagine a more naive Sukuna… during his youth and maybe not as established as a national menace.

I mean his s/o would be accepting of his actions and views but they found home in his heart because they loved him for him and not his power uwu

oh my god, anon your brain is so wrinkled and beautiful. (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Sukuna would have been convinced he was unlovable if not for you. If not for your soft words and gentle touches. His childhood friend who saw past the feral boys snarls and found the soft puppy there underneath.

You never clipped his claws or filed down his fangs. No, quite the contrary, you sharpened them. You stood tall next to him as he eviscerated his abusers, and firmly behind him as he took what the world owed him. Due payment for the pain he was forced to endure.

You showed him a different kind of strength. One that couldn't be built through training and fighting. You showed an emotional strength he wished he had. The ability to not only understand, but to harness and control your emotions. A strength he coveted.

He thought he would keep you by his side forever. His Queen, His Darling, His Lover. His Love. In your arms was the only place he found peace. The only place where he could ever feel truly safe. Your arms were his home.

Maybe he shouldn't have shown you off so proudly. Maybe he should have never left home that day. Or maybe he never should have dragged you into any of this shit in the first place.

He when he thinks back on the event now he remembers it in flashes and feelings. Feelings he desperately wanted to run away from. He remembered the stiffening feeling of your blood on his hands as he tried to stop your bleeding. He remembered cursing the bastards for not even having the decency to make it quick.

He remembered how your eyes glossed over. He could still feel your icy hand on his cheek. Could still hear your whisper.

"Don't stop fighting my Love."

He remembered you going limp in his arms. Still feel his hands shake the way they did as he tried desperately to bring you back, please. please just come back you cant leave him like this. He remembered the clap of thunder that shook the palace when he realized you weren't coming back.

Or maybe that was his scream.

He hadn't felt much since then. The cold hard steel of indifference being far more favorable to him than the sharp poison of an open heart. Love was a fucking joke anyway. He couldn't believe he was so naive. So foolish as to let himself be dragged around by his cock, it was pathetic. Love was pathetic. Love was an inherent risk that he would never take again.

Still. Sometimes late at night, when the rain pours down and he's forced to remember if was your favorite kind of weather, he can't deny the now foreign feeling in his heart. When he closes his eyes its your perfectly sweet smile that visits him at night. and for just a second, he feels himself crumbling again.

And then he snaps out of it. He doesn't have time for love. He has to get back to fighting.

[izzymissi]

Blood And Shadows. Alcina x Femreader (Occult Noir/Detective Fanfic)

Chapter 1: The Lady In The Shadows

(notes: the reader is refered to as "agent winters" winters being your last name not your actual name, that can be y/n)

The rain pounded relentlessly on the slick streets, each droplet ricocheting off the pavement like a reminder of the night's weight. The city was shrouded in darkness, save for the occasional flicker of a neon sign or the dim glow of a streetlight struggling against the downpour. You pulled your coat tighter around your frame, the cold seeping through your skin as your eyes traced the lines of the alleyways, searching for the café. It was one of those nights where everything felt heavy—thick with secrets, drenched in tension.

You glanced through the cracked window, and there she was—impossible to miss, even in the gloom. Alcina Dimitrescu. The name alone stirred rumors and half-forgotten whispers in every dark corner of the city. She belonged to the occult agency, which made her an anomaly among people like you. The FBI dealt in facts, in blood and fingerprints, in the cold steel of handcuffs. Dimitrescu? She dealt in something darker, something that swam beneath the surface of reason. And now, she was your partner, whether you liked it or not.

The bell above the door gave a tired ring as you entered, the warmth of the café doing nothing to shake the cold from your bones. The place was a dive—greasy tables, flickering lights, and a handful of patrons who looked like they’d given up on life long before they’d ever set foot inside. But in the corner, Alcina sat, commanding the shadows like they were drawn to her, a queen in exile.

She was tall—no, towering. Her trench coat was black, tailored perfectly to her long frame, cinched at the waist with a belt that accentuated her already impossibly sharp silhouette. The collar was turned up, and nestled against her chest, you could see a single black rose, tucked just beneath the lapel. Her skin was pale, unnaturally so, made all the more striking by the crimson lipstick that curled around her smirk. Her eyes glinted in the low light, predatory and knowing, as though she could see everything about you—the secrets you carried, the ones you wished you could forget.

As you approached, you noticed something else—a necklace around her neck, the chain delicate but sturdy, holding a pendant with a strange, arcane emblem. It shimmered faintly in the dim light, its symbols indecipherable, but there was something about it that felt wrong. Ancient. Dangerous.

“Agent Winters,” she purred, her voice sliding over you like velvet. Her lips curved into a smile, the kind that made you feel like you were already caught in her web. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost in this dreadful weather.”

You slid into the booth across from her, trying not to make it obvious that your hands were still trembling from the cold—or maybe something else. You fumbled for a cigarette, striking a match, only for it to flicker out before you could bring it to your lips. Dammit.

Before you could try again, Alcina reached across the table, her long fingers brushing against your hand, plucking the cigarette from your grip with casual grace. Her lighter clicked open—a sleek, silver relic—and the flame danced between you, casting brief shadows over her face. As she leaned forward to light it, her smile widened, and you caught the faintest glimpse of what could have been fangs.

“There,” she said, the flame snuffing out with a sharp click. “No need to struggle.”

You took a drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs, grounding you in the moment. Her presence was unnerving, to say the least, but there was something magnetic about her, something that made it impossible to look away. You knew who she was—what she was, some said—but there was no denying the power she exuded. It hung in the air between you, thick and tangible.

“We’ve got a very gruesome case on our hands, Agent Winters,” Alcina said, leaning back into the shadows, her eyes still fixed on you. “Even by this city’s standards.”

You exhaled, watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling. “Gruesome’s a given in this town,” you replied, the weariness seeping into your voice. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise, right?”

Her laugh was low, dark, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Quite right,” she said. “Though I must admit, I’m curious how someone like you ended up assigned to someone like me.” Her eyes gleamed, playful yet dangerous. “You must’ve made someone very unhappy.” “or maybe, it was destiny”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you took another drag, thinking about how this city seemed to have it out for you from the moment you set foot in it. The cases were always bloody, always brutal, but this… teaming up with an agent from the occult? That was a new low, even for the Bureau.

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, flicking the ash into the tray between you, “this city isn’t exactly known for its kindness.”

Alcina’s smirk deepened, her red lips a slash of color against her pale skin. “No, it isn’t. And neither am I.”

Her words hung in the air like a threat, but there was something else beneath them, something… inviting. You’d heard the stories—everyone had. Alcina Dimitrescu wasn’t just dangerous because of the cases she handled. She had a reputation for being more than human, for being something ancient, something that thrived on the darkness that seeped into every crack of this godforsaken place.

But right now, sitting across from her, watching the way the dim light caught the edges of her features—the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the faint glint of her necklace—you didn’t care. You didn’t care what she was or what she could do. All that mattered was getting through this case.

“We need to get to work, Agent” she said, her voice soft but commanding, as though there was no room for argument.

You nodded, taking one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette. “Lead the way,” you said, trying to ignore the tightening knot in your stomach.

As you stood, she rose with you, impossibly tall, her presence looming over you like the shadows that followed her. She gave you one last look, a smile that was equal parts alluring and dangerous, before heading for the door. You watched her go, wondering just how deep into the darkness you were about to wade.

The rain greeted you as you stepped outside, colder than before, as if the city itself knew what you were about to uncover.

And in the back of your mind, one question gnawed at you: Were the monsters you were hunting out there in the streets, or was the real one walking beside you, smiling like she knew a secret you could never hope to understand?

-any feedback is welcome-

[whereserpentswalk]

Beings are sorted from youngest to oldest. Attempt to seduce at your own risk.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Karlach Carrying Astarion - Drabble

//Cause I see this a lot and I luuuuv it.//

Fluffy, but I could ship it.

- Yes, Astarion is absolutely a drama queen when it comes to long journeys. Especially climbing. He’s a complainer, he makes his minor inconveniences everyone else’s problem, and somehow he has the energy to monologue but not get up the damn hill.

- Everyone is irritated, other than Wyll who is happy to quip with the foppy vampire. Shadowheart tells Astarion to shut up, which just eggs him on. Lae’zel might threaten to close his mouth for him—actually she doesn’t, because that would shut him up. The rest of the party just climbs up without him. 

- Karlach is a simple gal with a simple solution. She takes the pretty little perfectly composed vampire—and tosses him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. And continues right up the hill. 

- Astarion reacts like a cat who doesn’t want to be picked up, but he can verbalize his sass. He might even say he’ll bite her, to which Karlach says something like don’t threaten me with a good time, Fangs. 

- Of course, he still lets her climb the cliff for him. 

- But as soon as they’re at the top, he squirms free and goes to tell Karlach off. The audacity of her. 

-But the thing is, if anyone knows how to give a tongue lashing, it’s Astarion—and he isn’t even trying. Because it’s Karlach. And Karlach looks about as a repentant as a Great Dane scolded by a Corgi.

- He huffs that it’s indignant for him to have his arse in the air like that. “Oh, that it then? Just want more flair, pretty boy?” Karlach says brightly, sweeping open her arms with a little bow. Before promptly scooping Astarion up bridal style. 

- There’s a moment of hesitation, on both their ends. Karlach wondering if he’s alright this. Astarion steeling himself against the feeling—because he can’t bare to enjoy the warmth of her touch if it’s going to be ripped away. 

- But when neither balks, Karlach takes a step. And Astarion makes himself comfortable as they catch up to the rest of the party. Daring anyone to say anything untoward with his blood-red gaze. 

-Apparently vampires can indeed blush. 

[fallershipping]

idk if i mentioned this yet on this blog, sorry if i did it again but

Have you battled the PIKE QUEEN before? When she's in a good mood, they say she uses these three POKÈMON: A POISON-type FANG SNAKE POKÈMON, a BUG & ROCK MOLD POKÈMON, and a WATER-type TENDER POKÈMON.

Have you battled the PIKE QUEEN when she's serious? When she's seriously annoyed, they say she uses these three POKÈMON: A POISON-type FANG SNAKE POKÈMON, a STEEL & GROUND IRON SNAKE POKÈMON, and a WATER- & FLYING-type ATROCIOUS POKÈMON.

Notice how she uses a Shuckle and Milotic for her Silver Symbol: her good mood, using sweethearts like Shuckle and Milotic along her coveted Seviper.

When you fucking piss her off by being a kid that beats her, she uses a GYARADOS AND STEELIX. THE ANGRIEST SERPENTS IN POKEMON AT THAT TIME.

[stickytrigger69]

tfp dom Airachnid x sub mech reader, bondage and masochism/sadism

TFP Dom Airachinid x Sub Mech Cybertronian Reader

NSFW minors DNI!!!

Mech reader

Use of he/him pronouns

Sadist Airachnid, Masochist Male Reader

BDSM Elements!!

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

Your lover has left you all alone, bound, and on the hard floor. Servos behind you, pedes under you, and mouth coated beautifully in the webs spun by your dearest lover. Though you're mildly uncomfortable, you can't help the excitement racing through your spark. Just thinking of those fine pointed pedes and slim black legs leading up to perfect hips and chest plate makes you giddy, and your spike pressurize just enough to make you dizzy with lust. Airachnids slim but curved frame is one you could recognize while blind folded. Her fine, glossy lips hiding the cutest fangs make your throat dry. The poison laced on those lips, you're going mad.

And how she's bragged about you, her own pride and joy embodied in the frame of her favorite mech. You were made for her, the well of sparks, and Primus worked together to take one spark and split it in half and mold the perfect frames to match. You're hers, and she's yours equally. What's she doing that's taking so long. You miss her, miss her frame, miss her valve, the way it drips with want as she bites and claws at you. Shocks and smacks, hisses in your audials as she takes you apart. You start shaking, spike pressurizing by the second. Shouldn't have let your thoughts go astray, but you can't help it. The promise of reward causes you to act as though you are insatiable in your want.

You groan out loud in frustration, in need. When she comes back, you're gonna....

"Darling?" The door whooshes open and in steps your queen. Her purple optics glow devilishly. Any strong thoughts you had of being dominant are thrown to the wind. Your spike throbs underneath your array, and a small groan leaves you. 'Please,' you think to yourself, 'please use me, I'm your little toy.' She smirks at your pitiful state, lubricant leaks out from the seams of your array panel. She stalks forward, heels clacking painfully on the steel floor. You vibrate with anxiety.

Your helm points upwards as she stands before you, long, thick legs, slim waist, large chassis, curved derma, angled optics. You choke on a ball of thick lubricant, olfactory on overdrive as the sight of her teases your senses. 'Primus, forgive me for the sin I am about to commit.' You pray, knowing the vile things she will do to you and make you do. She releases your legs from their confines on the hard ground and spins you a small collar and leash from her silky web. She tugs and pulls, forcing you to your pedes. "Come on! Faster! That's it, 'atta boy." She praises as you stand to tower over her. Your fans whirl and hum warmly, "Come." She commands as she turns a heel towards the berth. You follow stiffly, joints locking from sitting for so long, but fast enough to still be a good boy.

She sits on the edge of the berth and immediately tugs down to have you on your knees again. She holds the sides of your face in her dainty servos, observing the heat coming from your cheeks, then slowly starts peeling the web from your derma. A taunting swipe of her glossa leaves you whining, "Now, now, this is supposed to be a reward, not a punishment. Be good. Be patient." She whispers. She smiles sweetly as her array panel swipes away, valve dripping and glossy. Immediately, you try licking it up. She slaps your face away hard, making you groan in painful pleasure. "Patience, you're my good boy, right?" You nod slowly, vents increasingly getting hotter.

"Please." You whimper, your array slips away, spike bobbing out and leaking, "Oh please." Her smile widens.

"So cute when you beg, sweetspark." She tugs at a wire in the back of your neck to turn your face up so she can bite into the sensitive cords on the side.

"Ahhh" you moan, spike twitching.

"Going to overload already, my love?" She teases.

"Please." You whine again. Giving her a pleading look, optics look so big with want. She only chuckles before grabbing hold of the leash once again and scooting up, heels locking into the edge of your shared berth. Knees spread wide, exposing her perfect valve with an inviting look on her faceplate. She tugs once, and you dive right in. Kissing, licking, and sucking on her sweet, lubricated valve, the taste of her making you groan as she moans, closing her optics softly. Your glossa flicks over and circles around her node, making her jerk her hips.

"Oh, my good boy, mmm, just like that." She takes hold of your helm and keeps you in place. You nibble slightly at her node, and she pulls you off to slap you again. "No." She says sternly and pushes your derma to her valve again. You just look up at her for a moment before nibbling again. "I said no." She forces you back and stands up over you, grabbing your face forcefully making you whine. Her servo grasps your neck as she pulls you up to stand before her. You look down at her, wanting more pain for the rest of the pleasure, and she can see that.

"I see, then, should have said something, baby boy." She turns you around to sit on the berth, servos still around your throat as she kisses you, grip tightening and other servo trailing down to jerk at your spike. A painful tug jolts through your spine to your processor and is followed by tender touches as she jerks your spike, rubbing the tip, smearing the lubricants around as she bites your derma, drawing energon. You moan deeply as her claws dig into your neck, touching and scraping at sensitive nodes and wires.

With a moan, she pulls away to look at your pretty face, energon leaking from your derma, dribbling down your sharp chin and onto your strong chassis. "You really are gorgeous, sweetspark." She praises her favorite toy. She looks down to stare at your spike in her small servo and feels heat pool in her gestation chamber, "mmmm, such a fragging unit." She groans deeply, sounding predatory. "Servos." She demands, so you rip them from their confines, webs dangle from your wrist joints and forearms, the off-white contrasts your paint job. She loves seeing it, and marking you makes her swell with pride. A servo goes to your chassis, the other firmly at the base of your spike, and scratches a deep mark into the strong metal, pulling a growl from you. "Pick me up, good boy." Your larger servos wrap gently around her waist to lift her from the ground with ease. Her legs spread wide, and you pull her close, valve aligned with your spike.

Slowly, you begin to lose your patience as she licks and kisses at your bite wounds. She hums happily and then bites down hard on your neck as she slams her hips down, spike plunging deep into her tight valve. You moan loudly and overload into your beloved spider. She feels hot lubricant jet into her and immediately starts bouncing onto your hard spike, moaning and whining with each fall of her hips. The tip of your spike pokes and prods at her gestation chamber, making her bite harder onto your neck. She pulls away and pushes you down her pedes flat on the berth as she straddles you, wrapping her servos around your neck as she rides you, keeping the air from circulating through your ventilation systems. You feel as though your spark has been destroyed, processor being flooded with too many senses, her smell, the pain, the pleasure.

You can feel how tight her valve is, how hard it squeezes around your spike, and how warm and wet she is. Subconsciously, your servos squeeze around her waist tighter and tighter as you take the wheel and push and pull at your pace. She gives you a second to breathe to take your servos into hers instead, then traps them above your head in more webs. She does the same on your legs and midsection, successfully trapping you to the berth. She steps up and off of your leaking spike, making you whine and groan disappointedly. She gives you a small scratch on the side of your faceplate while she moves to grasp it, making you writhe in your place.

A heel moves up next to your helm as she stretches across your larger frame. "I don't know whether to treat you or punish you." She coos then sucks through her denta, "I rrreally want to just punish you for nibbling on my node earlier, but you have been such a good boy." Her optics soften, your silvery face so blue and hot, your optics droop, you're exhausted from the teasing, overload, and all the waiting.

She hums softly and then makes her decision. She spins around to put her valve in your face and takes your large spike in her servos. First, she licks and kisses at the head and shaft while pushing her hips down on your face, your glossa sticking out to provide friction for her to grind down on. She takes your spike into her intake slowly at first, then starts ramping up in speed, sucking hard as she lifts her helm upward. Her goal is to suck your soul from your spark, and she'll be damned if she doesn't. She wants a taste of that sweet lubricant as you eat it from her valve.

Your processor has gone numb and optics blurry. You've been waiting so long for this, and now you're hardly conscious as you lap up your mixed juices. You don't realize until she gets oof of you that you've overloaded once more from her intake. "Mmmmmm, my good boy tastes delicious." She wipes at her derma to lean forward and kiss you. "But I haven't overloaded yet, so I hope that you have more to give, baby." She rubs your sensitive spike tantalizingly slow.

"Oh, please, I can't..." You beg.

"Tut tut my sweetspark, you'll be okay." She bites you again, injecting you with a special serum she came across on another planet. She loves using this stuff on you and how it changes your optics to a pretty pink color. And how hard it makes your spike. Suddenly invigorated, you sit up a little and smirk at her. You thrust forward a bit, spike rubbing against her node, making her gasp.

"Use me up, baby. He's still standing at attention, I need you." You pull her into a deep kiss, lifting her up and pushing her down onto your sensitive spike. "I want to feel you wrapped around my spike for cycles after this, even if you're not there. Break me." Your last comment makes her smile. She's going to spin you up in her net and use you for as long as she wants,

"Are you sure you're alright?" Knockout asks.

"Fine, thanks." You walk out of the medibay admiring new scars she left. You can still feel her, her claws, valve, chassis, spark. A shiver runs down your spine as you recall that night. "Can't wait till she breaks me again." You whisper to yourself as you walk past Breakdown who only makes a sour face, not that you saw. Otherwise, you'd ask what his problem was.

"-but his energon that night was so sweet." Airachinid finishes hee long droning as she presses a key or two into the computer in the main hull of the Nemesis. "I can't wait to break him again. I can still feel his spike throbbing and filling me up." She starts exciting herself. "I think I just might right now." She turns to walk down the halls to find her sparkmate.

[the-unspeakable-tsar]

Superhero Timeline.

10th Millennium

First appearance of humans. Some super powered. 

Proto Avengers (heavily altered humans, primordial gods, and mutant). Celestial tampering happens on countless planets. (Tamaranians, Skrulls, Kree, Eternals, etc) causing multiple humanoid aliens to exist.

Myths concerning “Elders of The Universe” and proto-tangible beings are formed by early life.

Vandal Savage, Immortal Man, Anthro, King Kull, Kyra Arg, Gnarrk. Hippolyta (first life).

Grak (neanderthal politician)

Cotati, Kree, and Skrulls discover eachother.

Atlantis forms.

“Ulysses” Bloodstone

50,000 B.C.E (Thurian Age)

Inhumans created by Kree scientists. 

King of Atlantis, Kull.

Doctor Mist.

Darkhold creates some of the first vampires.

Atlantis and Lemuria Sink.

Amazon Race born.

Selene Born.

Hyperborian Age.

Conan

Kulan Gath

Red Sonja

753, 785- BEC

Ancient Greece

Ancient Rome

Golden Gladiator

Alpha Centurion.

Rome forms a colony in South America. Nova Roma.

Rama Tut

En Sabbah Nur was born.

Wizard Shazam empowers Teth Adam.

Mad Pharaoh discovers an alien Scarab and claims to have created it.

6th Century

One of the Camelots (for there are many and they are nebulous)

Etrigan

Merlin (Merlyn)

Arthur

Shining Knight

Silent Knight

Black Knight (Sir Percy of Scandia)

Mordred the Mystic (not arthur’s mordred)

Earth was briefly invaded by Klyntar. 

New Genesis and Apokolips forms, set in a higher plane of dimension.

7th Century

Tang Dynasty was contacted by aliens the likes of Fin Fang Foom. They take advantage of their advanced technology

Jong Li Green Lantern

Viking Prince

8th Century

Brotherhood of the Shield was formed in 750.

9th Century

Diablo (Estaban De Ablo).

12th century

Crusades, the mutant Bennet Du Paris meets Eobar Garrington and clan akkaba.

Belasco born at the tail end of the century.

14th Century

Mutants immune to the black page die in the sea.

X’Hal ascends to godhood.

15th Century

Intelligent gorillas form Gorilla City.

Manhunters deviate from original programming.

Zemo barony formed

16th Century

The Black Pirate

Andrew Bennet becomes a vampire.

17th Century

Gotham City founded

Romeyn Falls founded

Metropolis founded.

1700s-1800s

Tomahawk

Uncle Sam

Frankenstein Monsters

Jonah Hex

Atlas City formed.

Hellfire Club formed

Trigger Twins

Rawhide Kid

Carter Slade

Red Wolf

“Firehair”

Irene Adler and Raven Darkholme

Sherlock Frankenstein

1859 Nathaniel Essex begins experimenting on Mutants.

1882 Wolverine Born

1900-1920s

Morpheus Imprisoned.

Tom Strong born

Balloon Buster

Mister Cakewalk

Jazzbaby

Enemy Ace

Freedom’s Five

Cult of Blood formed in Zandia

Krypton destroyed

Kal El Lands in Kansas

Doc Steele, Tazara, The Crimson Fist

Ghost Hunter, Baron Von Fang

1930s - World War 2 

Batman appears

Superman first appears

Wonder Woman appears

Captain Marvel (Billy Batson) appears.

Invaders. Captain America 1-3

Based on Project Rebirth, Vought develops Compound V, empowering Soldier Boy. Germany empowers Stormfront using a duplicate.

Justice Society of America was formed.

Seven Soldiers of Victory

Freedom Fighters

Liberty Squadron

Black Hammer Squadron

Doctor Star

Abraham Slam

Sgt Rock

Sgt Fury and the Howling Commandos

Haunted Tank

GI Robot

The Losers

Albrecht Strong born.

Magneto

Charles Xavier

Golden Gail (spawn of a shazam protege)

1950s (Silver Age Beginning)

Billionaire Oliver Queen is stranded on an island.

Hal Jordan inducted into the Green Lantern Corps

Astro-Naut dies and Astro City is named after him.

William Burnside and Jack Monroe become Captain America and Bucky.

Hero Licensing Agencies were formed in Japan, one of the first being formed by Dragon King. “Former” villain of the JSA and Acrobat.

J’onn Jonnz teleported to Earth.

Barbalien, a contemporary of J’onn’s arrives on Earth.

Colonel Weird.

1960s

Peter Parker was Bitten by a radioactive spider

Blue Beetle (Ted Kord)

The Confessor

The Midnight Mink and Chippy (Short lived Batman inspired criminal)

Jessica Jones falls into a coma.

The Question

Fantastic Four

Challengers of the Unknown

First Family

Max O'Millions

Suicide Squad.

The Flash (Barry Allen)

Black Canary II

JLA formed

Teen Titans formed

X-Men founded

Captain Marve (Mar-Vell)

John Stewart Green Lantern

Avengers Formed

SHIELD

Black Rapier

1970s

Luke Cage.

Iron Fist (Danny Rand)

Shang Chi

Silver Agent framed and is executed

Outsiders

Glamorax

Putrid Punk

Black Lightning

Black Hammer I

JLI formed.

Aaron Aikman becomes a doctor and is murdered by Morlun.

Doom Patrol

Winged Victor

Original Batman Dies

Mister Unknown, inspired by Batman becomes a vigilante crimefighter in Japan.

1980s

Suicide Squad II

Checkmate

Spiral City is almost consumed by eldritch Anti-God.

Gangbuster

Daredevil

Nightingale and Songbird

All Might receives his Quirk.

The Samaritan prevents The Challenger Disaster.

Tesla Strong born.

1990s

Vought America begins to push its corporate superhumans. Their minds are twisted by Compound V. Vought refuses to seek alternatives.

Jon Kent, Cir-El Kent born. 

Christopher Kent adopted

Superman Dies.

Unteens (not super long-lived)

Hal Jordan goes evil and dies.

Kyle Rayner.

Spider-Girl

A-Next

Stormwatch

X-People

Skulldigger

First superhuman reality TV show, Youngblood.

They’re immediately met a year later by Vought’s onslaught of Superhuman reality TV shows.

2001-2019

Black Hammer II

The superhuman civil war in america.

Japanse Military creates Big Hero 6 in response to Hero Agencies.

The Super Young Team forms an act of social rebellion by the children of Japanese superheroes who reject the Hero Agency route while despising government work like Big Hero.

Little do they know, they are integral to humanity's further evolution into the super-world.

Peter Parker dies. Mantle was taken up by Miles Morales.

Skrulls invade earth.

Black Hammer II

Black Rapier retires

Jiro Osamu, the replacement for Mister Unknown becomes "The Batman of Japan"

Young Avengers Form

The Authority was formed after Skywatch and IO were exposed to the world

 Izuku Midorya receives the One-For-All quirk

The hero agency system in Japan has cracks forming and they’re big.

Green Door Opens.

Miss Marvel (Kamala Khan)

Multiverse opened up.

China formed the Justice League of China, followed by its very own Lantern Corps.

2020s

Izuku becomes a superhero once again.

Black Hammer II becomes a mother.

Miles Morales becomes a vampire.

Team Titans

First Krakoan age. Mutants who have been dead for decades return.

Hulkling unites Skrull and Kree to form a new galaxy-spanning empire.

2030s

JLA Beyond

Bishop Born (Good Timeline).

The Future State. Corporations begin to create private security to crack down on superhuman threats. Especially in light of corporate superhero projects repeatedly failing.

Superman’s dynasty ascends to the stars. 

2099

Corporations Dominate the World.

Age of Heroes is Over.

Spider-Man 2099

Avengers 2099

Franklin Richards ascends.

Superman’s Dynasty returns to Earth. It’s an ancestral land. It is in ruin.

Compound V-descended humans begin to activate their powers en masse but after 100 years of development, their minds can handle it.

30th Century

Legion of Superheroes

Centuries of Mutants, Compound V Descendants, Inhumans, Metahumans, and alien-influenced humans have fundamentally changed the definition of a baseline human.

Humanity is almost there. The rest of the universe is inching toward it too.

Golden Lantern

853rd Century

It’s a superhuman universe. 

The Justice Legion, influenced by their literal and metaphorical ancestors patrol all sections of the known universe. 

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes (Affinity Series)

Alpha!Bucky x Sweet Little Omega!POC!Reader x Alpha!Steve

Wordcount: 3990

Summary:

You celebrate your first Halloween together as a mated pack.

Warnings:

Gratuitous Smut, Smut, Shameless Smut, Halloween Costumes, Porn With Plot, Voyeurism, Pole Dancing, Lapdance, Lap Sex, Threesome, Double Penetration, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Mating Bond, Mating Bites

Notes:

Hello Heathens! It's time for some sexy Halloween shenanigans with our favorite pack! Happy Reading!

Bannner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

Another year, another Halloween bash thrown by Tony at the compound. This year you had the added benefit of not one but two Alpha’s on your arm. Not to mention the lovely claim marks decorating your collarbone.

You couldn't be happier that the boys went along with your costume choices for the night. Preening over how sinfully handsome your Alpha’s looked. Both of them grew their hair out for the event. “Anything for our sweet little Omega.” They both stated upon your request. 

Bucky looked otherworldly dressed as a vampire, devilish fanged smirk and all. The contacts you purchased him turning his steel gaze, cold as ice. The subtle clenched jaw was even working in his favor.

Steve was almost unrecognizable. His blonde shaggy locks dyed brown and a full thick beard covered the lower half of his face. A couple well placed bloody cuts, dirtied up, torn clothing and a set of top and bottom fangs completed the werewolf ensemble. 

Then there was you. Dressed as Queen Akasha herself, sans the neck piece. You wanted to show off your claims, not hide them. It took some serious convincing and time on your knees for your Alphas to agree to let you wear the barely there costume. Based on the looks the three of you were receiving as you made your way through the crowd outside, it was well worth it. 

“I need a fucking drink. All these eyes on you are making me twitchy.” Bucky grounds out.

“Oh Sarg, they aren’t all on me.” You stop, turning your back to Steve as you face him, running your fingers down his Adam's apple. “I can practically see knees weakening watching your tall, dark, mysterious frame walk by.” 

You place a kiss to his chin and pivot to look up at Steve. “And you my dear Captain. You’re perplexing them all. Who knew America’s Golden boy could look so unruly.” You nip his Adam’s apple and head towards the bar inside, to gain some much needed warmth.

“I want to be angry, but for the life of me, I can’t think straight when she looks like that.” Steve states.

“Fucking little vixen.” Bucky shakes his head. “C’mon Stevie. Best not leave her alone too long. Trouble loves to follow her round.”

Drinks had been partaken, conversations shared and the party was starting to wind down. Only the team and those closest to them remain, congregating in the common room. As a joke, or maybe not, Tony had a stripper pole placed in the middle of the couches. 

The girls were curious as to your excitement at seeing the pole and you divulged that you used to choreograph for your sex worker friends for extra cash. “Plus it's a great workout in general. You really should give it a try.”

“You can’t tell us something like that and then not show us.” Wanda blurts out.

“I have to agree.” Nat nods along. “What level of routine were you choreographing for your friends? How do we know you’re not just trying to impress us with your words?”

With the rum still slightly running through your veins you had no qualms about educating them on your skills on the pole. “I know your goading me to get a free show but I really can’t back down from a challenge.” You smile devilishly. “Go ahead and take a seat, bring the men over too if you wish.”

“Oh I’m so game for this.” Maria exclaims, grabbing Wanda’s hand and pulling her toward the couches, currently occupied by Bruce, Clint, and Sam.

“Where’s the smoke?” Clint asks as the women take their seats.

“We’re about to get a lesson on how to work a stripper pole.” Nat explains.

“Yo!” Clint yells to Tony, Thor, Steve and Bucky at the bar. “We’re about to have some entertainment of the sexy variety. You might want to make your way over here.”

They all shrug and head over to the couches. Your Alpha’s noticing that you are not among the women sat waiting. A haunting beat begins playing as they spot you sauntering towards the pole. Almost recreating Akasha’s walk from the film. 

“Is she about to pole dance to Forsaken from Queen of the Damned, dressed as Queen of the Damned?” Sam questions.

“I have no idea what this Queen of the Damned is but I am most enjoying where this is going.” Thor imparts. “Once again Barnes, and not to now exclude you Rogers, I am very impressed by your Omega.”

“Shush. We’re trying to enjoy the show.” Nat hushes them. 

Unbeknownst to the team you could do this routine in you sleep. It’s one of your favorite go to's when your feeling yourself and need a little outlet. And yes you have taught your two best friends this routine for when they need to hit the pole as a side hustle. You even taught a class using a variation of this routine to bored housewives.

You can't help the way your body caresses and moves around the pole. As always the beat takes over you, turning you into a siren of the flesh. You're flawlessly doing sunwheels, corkscrews, and ballerina spins. Intermingled with inverted splits, a cross knee layback, and secretary sits. You’re sure to show off a bit of floor work as you perform an assisted shoulder stand down onto all fours, whipping your hair around as you sit back on your heels. You smile smugly at the girls' slack jawed faces before continuing on. 

Your boys are transfixed by how you have captivated the attention of everyone in the room. The prideful Alphas can’t help the satisfaction they feel knowing that you’re all theirs. Brazenly showing their marks to the world. They may have to put a pole up at home, make a whole naughty playroom for your enjoyment.

“Another!” Thor proclaims as you land on your feet and bow to the small applause of your super friends. 

“I always knew there was something you were hiding. That sweet face, so unassuming. No typical Omega could handle having one supersoldier Alpha, let alone two. Let me guess, you're proficient in lap dances as well?” A tipsy Tony inquires.

“But of course.” You smile mischievously at your Alphas. “Friday. Dim the lights and play Unholy by Sam Smith and Kim Petras.”

You confidently strut over to stand between Bucky’s legs as the lights lower and the song begins. Your hips bounce to the beat, sinking low, using his powerful thighs for balance, leaning forward into a body roll, pulling back until you're upright. 

You slowly lift your left leg into a standing leg extension, holding it for a moment before releasing it and straddling both of Alphas thighs with a cheeky giggle. You grab onto their shoulders, throwing your head back and quickly whipping your hair back and forth. Snapping back forward and throwing your hips up and back, bending over for all to see. 

You eye your Captain, as you spin on your heels, swaying your hips side you side you back up into his lap. You roll your body against his, running your right hand up the back of his neck, weaving your fingers in his silky locks and gently pulling as you grind your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Omega.” He growls in your ear.

“Shhh, Captain. Just enjoy your dance, Alpha.” You tease.

“You're lucky you’re already mine, doll. Doing this with everyone watching, testing our patience.” He nips behind your ear. “Risky business. Making your Alpha’s want you so badly. Just look at Bucky.”

You turn your head, still working Steve over, as your eyes lock with the dilated pupils of Bucky's. You lick your lips and swallow as you feel your slick begin to soak through your thong.  

You feel Steve inhale, as Bucky’s nostrils flare, both clearly scenting your arousal. “Everyone out.” Bucky growls to the room.

“Excuse me, this is my compound.” Tony snaps back.

Ignoring him, your Alpha continues on. “You all have 30 secs to get the fuck out before your stuck watching Steve and I take our Omega apart.”

“I would quite enjoy viewing you ravage such an enticing Omega as I am not allowed to partake per your Midgardian customs.” Thor declares. “A shame really.”

You turn over to straddle Steve’s lap, continuing to dance, lost in the combined scent of your Alpha’s. “I don’t even think these two would notice right now.” Tony quips. 

Bucky leans in, gripping your chin. “That right ‘mega? You getting floaty already?” You subtly nod your head. “Want me to kick everyone out or do you want them to truly see who you belong to?”

“Depends on who’s staying.” You whisper out.

“Apparently just Thor and Tony” He quickly scans the room. “Everyone else seems to have found their way somewhere else.”

“Probably to go work out all the sexual tension you guys have been putting out.” Tony snarks.

“Most certainly. I saw Natasha practically dragging Bruce behind her.” Thor agrees with a chuckle.

You look up to see the room clear of everyone but the Demi God and the Billionaire Playboy. “What do you think Captain? An audience of two, okay with you?”

He nuzzles into your neck. “I don’t care either way. I just really need to have you squirming on my cock.”

“I need a verbal yes or no, Alpha.” You respond. “I’m not about to have you get all possessive and violent because someone other than Bucky is getting turned on watching you split me open.”

You feel the growl emanating from his chest deep in your core as he leans back and looks you in the eye. “Yes, Omega. They can watch how good you take my cock.”  

“You heard the man.” Bucky addresses the two men. “Don’t take this opportunity for granted.”

Zoning in on the Alpha you’re sat upon, you lean forward, running your hands through his shaggy hair, kissing him deeply. You're granted the taste of the whiskey and Asgaurdian liquor he’s been sipping throughout the night on his tongue. The scent of him around you combined with his current taste has you grinding your slick soaked thong all over the font of his pants. Making quite the mess. 

A devilish smile appears on his bearded face as he wraps his fist in your hair and pulls your head back. Forcing you to look him in the eyes. "Unzip my pants and pull me out." He quietly commands.

Without hesitation you undo his pants and pull out his thick length. Subconsciously licking your lips at the sight of his precum already leaking out of the tip. 

“Pull that flimsy piece of fabric to the side and sit on my cock, Omega." Eyes glazed over, hindbrain kicking in at the order you lift yourself up enough to pull your thong to the side, exposing your leaking slit. You place his tip at your entrance, sliding down onto his thickness, filling yourself up inch by inch. 

Hand still in your hair he pulls you down into a heated kiss, tilting his hips up as your pelvis’ meet, getting as deep as he can. Pulling away, he wraps a hand around your throat, groaning as you involuntarily clench around him. "Now be a good girl and hold on to my shoulders." 

Once your hands are securely placed, Steve begins to piston his hips up into you. Practically using your body like his own personal ‘rutlight’. You start to bounce along with him, meeting in the middle with a grind of your hips. 

His hand tightens around your throat, the sweet pressure muffling your screams as you notice cool metal fingers trail along your spine. "That's it Omega. Look so pretty taking your Alpha’s cock.” Bucky whispers in your ear. “Fuck. I bet you're squeezing his dick real good, huh, baby girl?"

You can feel yourself ready to explode, his words adding fuel to the fire. You feel more than see, his flesh hand traveling down your torso, stopping at your mound. He takes the opportunity to play with your clit, rubbing tight little circles against the sensitive nub. You bite your lip from the overwhelming sensations of being surrounded by your Alpha’s, right on the knife edge of control, rapidly hurtling towards the cliff of your climax. Not to mention the fact that you have an audience, witnessing your destruction. 

"Oh baby you're so close. Can feel your sweet little pussy trying to pop my knot.” Steve grits out. “Gonna cum all over my fat cock?" 

You moan and nod your head yes, lost in a haze of lust. "I can’t hear you, Omega. Use your words. Do. You. Want. To. Cum. On. Your. Alphas. Cock?" He punctuates with his thrusts.

"YES! Please, Alpha. Want to cum all over your cock. Want to make a mess just for you." You manage to whimper out.  

Bucky groans, nipping your shoulder. "There's our sweet ‘mega. Always so good for her Alphas." He increases the pressure and speed on your clit. Making your grind against Steve all the more. 

"Now! Cum for us right now, Omega. I want to feel this little tight pussy of yours clamping down on my dick like a vice." Steve commands, setting off your orgasm. Throwing your head back, you let out a deep guttural moan, writhing on his dick, as you ride out the climax.

Unwilling to knot you and have you stuck on this couch for who knows how long, but still needing to remind the room who you belong to, Steve removes his hand from your throat. Within seconds each Alpha has latched on to their respective marks and bit down, freshening up their claims.

Like the turning of a switch, you melt into Steve, losing yourself to the lovely feeling of Omegaspace. Floating in a haze of pheromones, enveloped in the safety of your Alpha’s arms. You could care less who was left in the room other than Steve and Bucky. 

“You can put your tongues back in your mouths now boys.” Steve addresses the awestruck duo frozen to their seats. “Thank goodness you didn't pull your dicks out at least.”

“I was tempted to.” Tony blurts out.

“If I had, I would not have been able to refrain myself from trying to partake in the festivities.” Thor confesses. 

“Been there.” Steve agrees with a chuckle. “Anyway, have fun getting rid of those, boys. We’re going to go knot our sweet little omega til she passes out. See ya in the morning.”

“You’re staying here?” Tony asks.

“There is no way in hell I can last til we get to our place before I knot her properly.” Bucky growls out. “So yeah, we're staying in our apartment here. That a problem?”

“Not at all. I'll have Friday double the soundproofing and warn Sam.” He squeaks out.

“Thanks Tony.” Steve responds, scooping you up and walking down the hall to the apartment they keep on the compound.

You're undressed and placed down on what you know to be Steve’s king sized bed, based on the scent wafting up from the sheets. You sense them on either side of you as you burrow your nose in the pillow beneath your head.

“Feeling good, Omega?” Bucky asks.

“Mmmhmm” You nod your head in response, opening up our eyes and catching the steel grays to your right.

“Need more? Or are you good for the night?” Steve queries.

“More. I know you both didn’t come.” You quirk a brow at them. “Can’t have that.”

“That right ‘mega?” Bucky teases.

“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’ for emphasis.

“Okay.” He caresses your chin. “Can’t disappoint our sweet little Omega now can we. What do you have in mind, babygirl?”

“I want to ride my Captain while you fuck my ass from behind Sarge.” You calmly state.

The supersoldiers let out simultaneous growls at your request. 

“I want to be stuffed full. Need you both to use me for your pleasure. Please.” You can’t help but pout as you plead for what you want.

Bucky runs his metal thumb across your bottom lip. “No need to pout, sweet ‘mega. You’ll get what you want. Stevie, toss me the lube I know you keep stocked in your nightstand. You heard what she wants. Let her ride you some more while I prep that glorious ass.”

You smile triumphantly as you throw a leg over Steve’s naked waist. Somehow you just now realized that you’re all undressed, naked flesh on full display. You tease his turgid length, re-coating him in the fresh slick leaking from your cunt until you feel the vibration of his growl against your thighs as he stills your hips with one of his massive hands. With the other, he grabs his dick, teasing your clit with the tip, pulling a whine from you that is cut short as he lines up and thrusts, sinking his cock deep inside you. 

Your head falls back and your spine arches as you push yourself up and undulate your hips, burying him even deeper. Your Alpha’s following your every move, entranced by the way you swivel and bounce, losing yourself in the ebb and flow of your own little private show being put on for their eyes only. 

Worked up and ready to be inside you himself, Bucky, having sufficiently lubed up his cock, climbs between Steve’s spread legs. Placing a hand to the middle of your spine he kisses up your throat until he reaches your ear.

“Be a good Omega and lean forward for me so I can join in on the fun. You don't look stuffed enough yet.” The cool palm in the middle of your back helps push you down until you're laying flush against Steve’s chest.

He then proceeds to run his lube covered fingers along your stretched out lips, gathering the slick that continues to pour out of you with one hand as the other grabs a cheek and spreads you out, exposing your puckered little hole. Running his coated fingers around your hole teasingly, slowly adding more pressure until he is able to get the first one, then two fingers inside you. Opening you up little by little, as you gently roll your hips back and forth, grinding down on the Alpha beneath you.

“You’re doing so good for me ‘mega. Gonna add another finger. Open you up a bit further so you can take me nice and deep. Want you to focus on how good my fingers feel.” Bucky instructs you.

He works his third finger into you and proceeds to scissor them all and open you up further until you can take them with ease and are a whimpering mess. As he pulls them out, you whine at the feeling of emptiness left behind. 

He grabs a cheek in each hand and spreads you out, signaling Steve to still your hips. Lining himself up he breaches your tight little hole. “Relax, ‘mega. Take a deep breath for me.”

You do as you're told and on your exhale your tight ring of muscle relaxes, allowing Bucky to sink right in. “Fuck. So tight. How ya feeling, Omega?”

“Full.” You moan out. 

“Good.” Bucky grits out.

That is the last thing you are able to comprehend, as they begin to pull out and thrust into you, never leaving you empty. As one retreats the other pushes in, playing you like a well strung violin. Pulling moans, whimpers and orgasms from you like notes on a page. Creating a sinful melody to feed their carnivorous appetites.

You can feel the haze of overwhelming pleasure start to take over your body. Your senses are so keyed up and overloaded, that it doesn't take long before you are crying out and clenching down on the cocks lodged inside you as you crest over the edge into a blissful climax. Head buried in Steve’s chest as tears begin to flow from your eyes at the overpowering ecstasy. 

“That’s it, Omega. Love it when you squeeze me so tight, trying to make me pop my knot, lock me in place.” He lifts your head from his chest and places a tender kiss to your forehead as they slow their thrusts, allowing you a moment of reprieve. 

He wipes a stray tear away with his thumb. “How are you feeling?” 

You’re just coherent enough to get out a few words. “So good. Need more. Want your knots.”

“I couldn't dream of denying her anything right now.” Bucky states.

Your pussy and ass squeeze around your Alphas, as you imagine being filled with their hot cum, causing them to start to lose their rhythm. Pounding into you erratically as they chase their own highs. 

“Fuck. That’s it ‘mega.” Steve grunts out. “Take my cock. I’m so fucking close. Gonna pop my knot and paint your insides white. Gonna lock you to me as you take every drop.” 

As Steve’s words hit your ears, you instinctively squeeze around Bucky, setting off a frenzied pace in the Alpha as they race to the finish line. 

“Fuck Steve, you make her clench around me like that again and her pussy wont be the only thing getting filled.” Bucky groans out.

Having them talk about filling you up like you're not even in the room is the spark that lights the match on the fire that is your impending orgasm. You detonate in a blaze of pleasure, almost blacking out from the sheer force of it, taking both of them along with you.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Bucky loses it first, hips stuttering until they still, popped knot resting against the outside of your ring of muscle as he groans and empties his balls into your abused little hole. Gripping your ass cheeks so hard you're sure he left bruises behind.

As he slowly pulls out his still hard member, your hole clenching trying to pull him back in, Steve lifts his hips and lodges himself deeper into your cunt. He pulls you into an intense kiss just as his knot pops, making good on his promise, as he shoots rope after rope of his seed deep into your womb, coating your walls white, triggering a minor orgasm of your own. “Can’t get enough of filling you up. Especially when it sets you off again like that. Come on, ‘mega, milk your Alpha dry.”

He grips your hips, grinding your clit along his pelvis until you come one last time for him, biting down on his shoulder as you undulate against his chest. 

You feel cool metal and warm flesh dance along your spine as you come down from your final high. Removing your head from the crook of Steve’s you turn to look upon the satisfied face of your head Alpha.

“Hey there sweet Omega.” You smile at the softness in the rough Alpha’s voice. “You did so good, baby. Made your Alpha’s feel amazing.” 

You preen at the praise, cuddling closer to Steve’s chest. “So so good. Go ahead and rest, doll. You’ve earned it.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re starting to drift off, listening to your Alpha’s speak around you.

“You know, last year, I knew you had her locked on your knot while we watched Scream.” Steve confesses. “Even though you were trying to be quiet, I heard you going at it before I came out. Might have even gotten off to it so I wasnt coming into the room hot.” He chuckles.

“Steven!” You jolt upright, to smack him on this peck.

“You dirty fucking dog. Just couldn't help yourself could you?” Bucky shakes his head. “Bet that wasn't the last time you jerked it to us.”

“That night wasn't even the first.” He replies with a shit eating grin as he pulls you back down, locking you in his arms. “Certainly won't be the last.”

[bright-side20]

Ruhn & Lidia ✴️🔆

With a sparkle of Elriel because I can't not talk about them duh

While rereading CC2 I focused on Ruhn and Lidia because the last time I was focusing more on Quinlar and I've missed details.

Snow Queen:

I believe the retelling of The story of Ruhn and Lidia will be inspired by the snow queen story.First because of the story Lidia told Ruhn and that actually was about her :

there lived a young witch in a cottage deep in the woods. She was beautiful, and kind, and beloved by her mother. (...)

As she ran, she pleaded with the forest she loved so dearly to help her. So it did. First, it transformed her into a deer, so she might be as swift as the wind. But his hounds outraced her, closing in swiftly(...) But the prince was a skilled archer, and he fired one of his iron- tipped arrows.” “The forest turned the witch into a monster before she hit the earth. A beast of claws and fangs and bloodlust. She ripped the prince and hounds who pursued her into shreds.”

“ one day, a warrior arrived in the forest.(..) . She set out to slaughter him, but when the warrior beheld her, he was not afraid. He stared at her, and she at him, and he wept because he didn’t see a thing of nightmares, but a creature of beauty. He saw her, and he was not afraid of her, and he loved her.”.... “His love transformed her back into a witch, melting away all that she’d become. "

The Snow Queen is known as a villainous character, yet we don't know anything about her backstory or motives. What if she's also cursed? What if she also needs someone like Gerda who will truly see and love her to break the curse? That's what Ruhn did; he saw Lidia for who she truly is, loved her for it, and made her remember who she is. That she's not the person she's been portraying. Opened to her about his secret and insecurities they both saw each other. He'll accept her for who she is, even after discovering her true identity and job.

I really like that this is a parallel between them and Elriel, because they also saw each other for who they actually are and fell for each other for it. For me Elain represent Gerda's power, and the fact that Az thinks he's unworthy of her because of he's job, but she already called he's scars beautiful, she'll also accept him for who he is.

Second, descriptions of Lidia are all related to the Snow Queen:

"I think I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be myself. I think I’ve lost my true self entirely. To destroy monsters, we become monsters."

“You remind me of the wind.” He tried to explain. “Powerful and able to cool or freeze with half a thought, shaping the world itself though no one can see you. Only your impact on things.” He added, “It seems lonely, now that I’m saying it.”

(that's literally a description of the snow queen, powerful yet lonely)

“There’s no place for that in this war. The sooner you realize it, the less pain you’ll feel.” “So we’re back to the ice-queen routine.”

Mating Bond

First, it is obvious that Lidia and Ruhn are mates because he was able to reach her mind without the crystal. After the mental sex, their scents merged, though it remains unnoticed because they haven't accepted the bond yet.

This also shows that Az being able to smell the bond in Lucien's presence, to the point where he can't stand it, is indeed weird.

Secondly, Ruhn walking blindly to his death to save her is typical mate behavior, but the thing is this:

He’d kill him. Slowly and thoroughly, punishing him for every touch, every hand he’d put on Lidia in pain and torment. He had no idea where that landed him. Why he wanted and needed that steel-clad wall between him and Lidia, even as his blood howled to murder Pollux. How he could abhor her and need her, be drawn to her, in the same breath.

Isn't it interesting that he confirmed to Bryce that she and Hunt are true mates, and now, he's experiencing the same instincts but fighting them. The easiest thing to do is oh I know she's my mate I have to accept her, but No! This shows how Sarah writes about mates; the bond isn't the sole reason to love each other or choose to fight to be together. He'll take his time to process things, they'll talk, love, and accept each other for who they are, and then they'll come to the part of the mating bond.

That's why Lucien telling Elain she's his mate right after she'd been into the cauldron is enough to know they're not endgame. In fact, the plot of the mating bond suits Elriel better because with Az showing mate behaviors towards Elain, they also took time to get to know each other and fell for each other.

Power

_Ruhn:

I think he will learn more about his power, especially now that Bryce is with Rhys and Feyre. And he has already questioned if he can do more with his power:

If he were to follow her that way, would he wind up in her mind? See the things she saw? Look through her eyes and know who she was, where she was? Would he be able to read every thought in her head? He could speak into someone’s mind, but to actually enter it, to read thoughts as his cousins in Avallen could … Was this how they did it?

And he has already managed to slip into Lidia's mind:

Ruhn slammed into a wall of black adamant. Time slowed, bringing with it flashes of sensation. No images, all … touch. Bones grinding in her left wrist from where it was being squeezed tight enough to hurt; it was the pain that had awoken her, pulled her away from the bridge.

So I think there will be some development in his abilities. Like, bro, you've got a cool power break some bones, shatter some minds, manipulate the hell out of them.

_Lidia:

I think she might have also inherited some power from her mother, as she referred to herself as a witch in the tale she told Ruhn.

_The fact that she smells like hypaxia:

And her scent had been familiar from the start because Hypaxia was her half-sister, he realized. Family ties didn’t lie. He’d been wrong about her being in House of Sky and Breath—the Hind could claim total allegiance to Earth and Blood.

_Or maybe some fire power, Ruhn was veiled by stars, because of his starborn power, while Lidia was veiled by fire:

Had his mind instinctively shielded him? Or was this what he was, deep below the skin? Was this fire- being standing thirty feet down the mental bridge what she was, deep below her own skin? Or fur, he supposed.

The Hind paused on the threshold before she left, though. Peered over her shoulder at Ruhn, her silver necklace glinting in the sunlight trickling in. Her eyes lit with unholy fire.

That's it, I'm really excited to know more about Lidia and see how their story will unfold, and I'm so ready for January 30th 🌙

[ftafp]

Protip: If you ever get burned out on the awfulness of the world, try to imagine it filtered through the perspective of a bronze age peasant

We live in an age of wizards, where even the poorest beggars are lettered scholars, and the violet robes of kings can be bought with a few hours of a commoner's daily wage. Steel horses gallop past on hooves made of tree gum, upon stone roads that rise into sky like tangled ribbons or nests of snakes.

Near every man, woman and child owns a magic mirror of polished obsidian. It feeds them with visions and songs of distant lands and times, and carries within a library greater than that of alexandria. and they are only the product of a thousand other wonders. Its face is made of crystal orbs which glow like the sun, shone through rubies emeralds and sapphires that are said to flow like liquid while still a gem. Its brain is a magic circle made of polished copper, decorated all around with lightning runes carved in tiles of clay. They say these eat lightning released by burning dragon bezoars and blood, or from metals from tartarus that radiate hellfire and plague

There are other lands beyond here the likes of which can't be fathomed. Though they are distant they must be seen to be believd.

beneath the waves lies a world both beautiful and dying. In cities of coral the octopodes live, using magic to take the forms of forests, fish and sand. There are deep valleys where darkness weighs as much as a mountain. Hideous monsters dwell in this darkness, using dim lights to spring their trap. The gods of the fish drift across the sky of this world. To approach when they are singing causes one to die and stream blood from their ears. When gods do die their titanic corpses rain from the heavens, and from their flesh the fish carve their cities

Off in the south their is a great sea of trees, it is a vast battlefield both above and below. In one men lead menageries of of steel beasts to carve away at this ocean, bearing swords powered by dragon blood which have grown sharp, gnashing teeth. beneath their feet tiny battle companies of six-legged men ride battle each other in black plate armor, and use not swords but their fangs. These tiny soldiers are said to have no minds of their own. instead a queen thinks for them, and leads them to fight with her perfumes

There are still farther lands men have not yet seen among the stars. celestial spheres of endless skyies that rain diamonds and acid and rivers of metal rush molten unbidden through dead worlds, and great clouds sparkle, in colors human eyes cannot see

This world is horrible, wonderful, awful and beyond description. One only needs to remember it for the wonder that it is.

[ashleyfableblack]

Chrysalis purred, looking up to Twilight from the dining hall floor. She lay on her shell in a come-hither pose. Her lips curled behind her fangs into a coy, playful smile. "And just what do you think you're doing, my little pony?" Queen Twilight chuckled, eyes narrowed, wringing her hooves with mischievous menace. "Opening my Hearthswarming present, of course."

A shiver of excitement buzzed through the chitinous plates of Chrysalis's body. "And what makes you think that you have the slightest notion of where I'm keeping your present?" Magenta light snaked from Twilight's horn and curled around the changeling queen's limbs. Chrysalis's snake eyes went wide as the coils gripped her with an alicorn's strength. "Because you always keep my present in the same place." Chrysalis gasped in excitement as the coils of magic gripping her extremities pried and pulled, stretching her out like the petals of a blossoming flower. Her normally commanding voice quavered as her pulse quickened. "But Lilac-" she teased, batting her eyelashes "it's Hearthswarming... and we aren't even beneath the mistletoe..." She looked to the rafters above them and paused at a surprisingly strange sight. Tied securely to the festive garlands circling the room was a familiar artifact of Equestrian History. Her eyes narrowed and her fanged smile took on a inquisitive flavor as she pondered the gleaming silvery curiosity. "We're beneath... the platinum horseshoe of Setzer Gabynako...?" The priceless treasure had belonged to the most famous gambler of pre-tribal pony history. History described him as something between Daring-do and the Flim-Flam brothers, a dashing rogue of legendary exploits and prowess in all his lurid endeavors. The horseshoe had been securely locked away in the royal museum. When did Twilight sneak it out? How? Had she prepared it in place all for this most intimate moment between them? Twilight regarded the ancient artifact. The azure chrome token reflected brilliantly like a diamond. "Mnhmmm." She returned her gaze to Chrysalis's prone, splayed form. Her shallow, deliberate wingbeats slowed, lowering her closer to her wife like a spider approaching her ensnared victim. The magical bindings flexed like corded steel. Her smile had become a leering smirk worthy of Applejack at her most cider-driven passion. "But don't we need mistletoe for Hearthswarming, my love?" Chrysalis pleaded. Twilight drew close. The puffed up crest of her chest-fluff glided across the chitin of Chrysalis's barrel. Twilight purred as she nuzzled around the pitmarks of Chrysalis's long, serpentine neck. "We would only need mistletoe if I wanted to kiss you." She softly touched her lips to the wound-like marks. "But I want... to get lucky." Chrysalis erupted in the strangest horny laughter of all her ancient existence. That was either the worst wordplay she'd heard in ages or the most unbelievably clever and erotic wordplay she had heard in an eternity. She almost voiced her question when she suddenly had to bite her lip to silence a moan as Twilight chuckled and began gnawing at the nape of her neck. A nearby fire crackled with dozens of rows of tiny stocking-socks framing it, all filled to the brim with candies and treats. The hive mind was at rest, their drones slumbering peacefully. Their larvae were all nestled, snug in their creche. Dozens of lovingly decorated boxes awaited their changeling children beneath several nearby trees. The mothers' work was done. This was the time for lovers. And the lovers happily did as lovers do.

[theterribletenno]

Warframes even Ballas was ashamed of

Vote for your favorite [here]!

Max the Monster Truck Warframe: Half machine and half beast the creature whose name need only be "Max" lived as entertainment for the Orokin. Less than human, he shall have no civil and proper weapon, no sword nor shield shall he wield. Let his iron fists be his weapon, let him show where man, machine, and monster meet. Maximum strength, maximum fury, maximum execution was served in the arenas by the monster of steel, Max! Embody the spirit of bloodsport with the armored heathen, the gravedigger, the abominable gladiator Max! Max! Max! Max! Max! Monster and machine! Soldier and entertainer! Maximum carnage! Maximum brutality! Maximum dominance! Max! Max! Max! Max! Max!

Saluuknir the Telekinetic Warframe: A brilliant mind is a terrible thing to waste. Better to send those great minds to the warframe project than to rot in a cell or a penal colony. Such was the fate of many a fallen Archimedean, whose gifts for science run from their brilliant minds through their defiled veins, pulled out by the helminth seed and woven through every fiber of their being. The warframe Saluuknir is one such warframe, born from a great and terrible mind and blessed with dominion over the laws of physics themselves. He enters battle with an enormous object, a perfect cube of gleaming metal, and with the power of his mind throws it to and fro just as easily as he does his foes, reducing them to red paste with a mere flick of his wrist. Defy the laws of nature and make physics themselves your weapon as Saluuknir the master of telekinesis!

Ariel the Duviri Beastkeeper Warframe: The stories of Ariel are not written in any tome or tablet, only spoken word can tell her story. A heroine of the past, master of beasts. With every telling her story becomes more fantastic and incredible. Is it true? Did she command every beast of the land? Did her familiar truly shapeshift from bird to ram to hound at her whim? In the gestalt egregore lands of Duviri the stray thoughts of Ariel's story give her life, a warframe and her shape-changing animal companion for the Drifter to encounter. Discover the true power of the beasts of Duviri - the Paragrimm, the Tamm, the Kexat, and the Krubie - and awaken the power of their master Ariel. Make her real, Tenno, bring Ariel the beastkeeper of Duviri to life!

Tsurugi the Greatsword Master Warframe: The Tenno love for melee combat is more than abundantly documented, and so to suit the needs of the Tenno operators warframes were made specifically to suit their bloody needs. Tsurugi, the lady of the greatsword, was tailor-made for Tenno brutality, a master of the heaviest of melee weapons. Clash and smash with greatswords, hammers, and other super-heavy weapons to unlock Tsurugi's potential and discover a new equal to the venerated Excalibur. Tsurugi advances with reckless bloodlust and crashes into the battlefield like a falling star.

Shamir the Wyrm Queen Warframe: The ravening mistress Shamir is queen of the golden maws, summoning them at her feet and commanding them to crush her foes in fang and coil. Shame of the Orokin, Shamir was kept the most hushed of secrets but nothing made of ivory and gold could be hidden forever. Though she exists in the enmity of the empire that made her she is a necessary evil, queen of the corpse-eaters and muck-rakers, keeper of the horrid worms and tamer of their gnashing golden maws. In her true form Shamir ascends from worm to wyrm, limbless dragon of the empire's final fury. Take the legend of Shamir and rise from the dirt, Tenno, the queen of worms sits upon a throne of death.

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

"You're so pretty."

Victoria's movements are soft, half formed, as though she'd not quite thought the action out before it started. She feels her ears heat up with embarrassment. It had been happening more often lately - moving before she can think clearly, as though dealing with two separate entities within herself, brain and heart. Perhaps Jennyanydots' amused diagnosis of "twitterpated" was not too far off the mark; there had certainly been enough reasoning to back it up.

Plato blinks, slow and confused, as though being pulled from a dream. And perhaps he was; he'd been staring at Victoria for the better part of an eternity, focused, but very clearly somewhere else. He did that sometimes - disappear somewhere she couldn't quite follow him, eyes hollow and dark. Victoria wishes she knew where he went; perhaps one day he'd tell her.

The staring, she couldn't fault, however; she'd been staring at him right back.

"What?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Pretty," Victoria signs again, submitting to having been caught, exaggerating the movement so he'd get it. Perhaps he'd been half paying attention, and only seen the tail end. "You're very pretty."

Plato wasn't much for laughing, Victoria had come to know - smiling, yes; Plato had developed such an easy smile over the year spent with them when they could coax it out of him. Laughing, on the other paw, not particularly, though he was never able to put quite into words why that was. Perhaps he was self conscious of the way it sounded; perhaps he hadn't much in regards to a sense of humour.

Be that as it may, for some reason, that affirmation plasters bewildered scrunches between his brows and his eyes practically disappear under his eyelashes. It even gets that odd, wheezing noise he'd make when particularly amused.

The queen could only be partially annoyed and a teeny bit embarassed - he was very handsome when he smiled, afterall, one fang hanging slightly lower than the other. An in consequential flaw that did nothing, Victoria thinks, flustered, than make him even prettier.

Victoria huffs. "What's funny?"

Plato tosses the motion back haphhazardly, as though brushing the thought aside. "You're funny."

"Not funny." Victoria frowns. "I'm serious."

Plato sobers immediately, smile gone as quickly as it came - it's like a candle being blown out; a night and day difference. The temperature in the clearing seems to cool as he continues to study her. There is an undeniable feeling creeping at the back of Victoria's neck that she may have mis-stepped somewhere, but all she'd said was...

She presses on, feeling an ache begin deep in her chest. She repeats herself, motions firm. "You're very pretty."

"I am not," he says after a long moment. There is an expression on his face that is difficult to read - he does not look embarrassed or pleased, even humbly so; he almost looks as though he is about to cry.

"Yes you ar-"

"You-" he points at her firmly, cutting her off, jaw set. The motion towards her is quick and harsh as a result, unsheathing his claws in the process. He startles as she does, horrified, staring at the space that has swelled between them; he is a breath away from scratching her.

"You," He points to her again after a moment, claw carefully pulled back this time. "Are very pretty. Not me. Look." He motions to the whole of himself, as though that were enough to dissuade her feelings. It only steels her resolve further.

"You look-" she insists, touching her paw pads to the delicate skin of his cheek to demonstrate. Plato flinches as though she'd hit him in retaliation; it looks to have been a struggle for him to resist moving away, but the desire is clearly there. There is fear burning in his eyes -anger and remorse and upset - like a bird trapped in a cage of teeth, waiting for its bones to snap in on themselves after the hunter had toyed with its prey.

Victoria pulls back, tangling her paws in her lap. The ache becomes a gnawing hurt. The fear in Plato's eyes burns hotter, guilt shining just beneath the surface.

"Please." Plato sets his jaw, and the fear fizzles slowly - forcibly - last of the flame suffocated. But he does not get near her again. He is gone to that place she cannot follow. "I cannot...do not lie to me."

"I am not lying," she manages, tears at the precipice of her eyelashes. The silence grows even heavier between them

"Then," he continues at last, breath hitching eyes wide and astonished, and Victoria feels ice settle at the base of her spine. After a moment, his expression dulls again. The smile on his face returns in a flash, a plaster over a wound, but it is bitter, cool. Empty. "You are being cruel? I did not think you had it in you."

[adventure-showdown]

What is the greatest Doctor Who story ever told?

Wow, we are now down to a measly 256 stories

as before everything has been put into groups of 32 (as fairly as i can manage). Every day I will post the matches for one group, with Friday's off. At the end of the round groups will be paired up and mashed together to do it all again. That means the order the matches below are listed in has no baring on what they'll be against next round

You can still submit propaganda for posts here

ROUND 1 ROUND 2

ROUND 3

Day 8

Death of the Doctor vs Miracle Day

For Tonight We Might Die vs Small Worlds

A Day in the Death vs The Mark of the Berserker

Day of the Clown vs The Temptation of Sarah-Jane Smith

K9 and Company vs The Nightmare Man

Adam vs Ghost Machine

Everything Changes vs Reset

Exit Wounds vs Children of Earth

The Curse of Anubis vs Dream-Eaters

Out of Time vs Detained

The Curse of Clyde Langer vs Co-Owner of a Lonely Heart/Brave-ish Heart

Fragemnts vs Captain Jack Harkness

The Wedding of Sarah-Jane Smith vs The Custodians

Dead Man Walking vs Countrycide

Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang vs Goodbye, Sarah-Jane Smith

Fear itself vs The Metaphysical Engine or What Quill Did

previous and future days under the cut - unfortunately i will have to get rid of the links after each day because there will be too many and the post will break, however they will all be tagged #round 3 (I think this is the last round I'll have to do this)

Day 1

The War Games vs The Gunfighters

The Daleks vs The Edge of Destruction

The Romans vs The Sea Devils

The Invasion vs The Time Meddler

The Green Death vs The Daleks' Master Plan

The Curse of Peladon vs The Aztecs

Terror of the Autons vs The Web of Fear

The Chase vs The Enemy of the World

The Daemons vs An Unearthly Child

The Power of the Daleks vs The Time Monster

The Dalek Invasion of Earth vs The Macra Terror

The Ark in Space vs Inferno

The Three Doctors vs The Evil of the Daleks

The Horns of Nimon vs The Tenth Planet

Spearhead from Space vs Dr Who and the Silurians

The Sensorites vs The Mind Robber

Day 2

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances vs Rise of the Cybermen/The Age of Steel

Day of the Doctor vs The Stolen Earth/Journey's End

Partners in Crime vs Gridlock

A Good Man Goes to War vs Turn Left

Blink vs Amy's Choice

Planet of the Ood vs The Runaway Bride

Utopia vs The End of the World

The Time of Angels/Flesh and Stone vs Dalek

Midnight vs The Doctor's Daughter

The God Complex vs Smith and Jones

The Eleventh Hour vs The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords

The Girl Who Waited ve Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead vs The Impossible Astronaut/Day of the Moon

Father's Day vs Fires of Pompeii

The Waters of Mars vs The Doctor's Wife

The Beast Below vs Vincent and the Doctor

Day 3

The Fifth Citadel vs The Scarlet Empress

Camera Obscura vs The Book of the War

Lungbarrow vs The Cars that Ate London

Unnatural History vs Vampire Science

Mad Dogs and Englishmen vs The Creeping Death

The Eleven Day Empire/The Shadow Play vs A Photograph to Remember

The Scorchies vs Alien Bodies

The Forgotten Village vs I am the Master

A Full Life vs Interference

Living Legend vs Solitaire

The Year of Intelligent Tigers vs Human Nature

Peri and the Piscon Paradox vs No Place

The Lumiat vs Rhys and Ianto's Excellent Barbecue

Square One vs Gallifrey IV

The Last Post vs Death and the Queen

The Adventuress of Henrietta Street vs The Bekdel Test

Day 4

posted alongside day 3 to catchup on an earlier missed day

City of Death vs Trial of Time Lord

The Keeper of Traken vs The Brain of Morbius

Earthshock vs Castrovalva

Planet of Fire vs Survival

Enlightenment vs Paradise Towers

The Mark of the Rani vs State of Decay

The Pirate Planet vs Battlefield

The Key to Time vs Remembrance of the Daleks

The Curse of Fenric vs Warriors' Gate

Snakedance vs The Face of Evil

Horror of Fang Rock vs The Stones of Blood

The Deadly Assassin vs The Robots of Death

Genesis of the Daleks vs Mawdryn Undead

Vengeance on Varos vs The Five Doctors

Logopolis vs Ghost Light

The Androids of Tara vs The Caves of Androzani

Day 5

Whatever Happened to Sarah-Jane vs The Halloween Apocalypse

Listen vs Hell Bent

The Pandorica Opens/The Big Bang vs Under the Lake/Before the Flood

Last Christmas vs The Pilot

Mummy on the Orient Express vs War of the Sontarans

Village of the Angels vs Oxygen

Dark Water/Death in Heaven vs Time Heist

Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror vs Husbands of River Song

World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls vs It Takes You Away

Spyfall vs The Haunting of Villa Diodati

Flatline vs Eve of the Daleks

The Woman Who Fell to Earth vs The Magician's Apprentice/The Witch's Familiar

Thin Ice vs Fugitive of the Judoon

The Power of the Doctor vs Demons of the Punjab

Face the Raven vs Extremis

Flux vs Heaven Sent

Day 6

Time Crash vs Space/Time

Unnatural Selection vs Shada (webcast with 8)

Space in Dimension Relative and Time vs Doctorin' the TARDIS

Farewell, Sarah-Jane vs P.S.

Downtime vs Dr Who and the Daleks

The Flood vs Old Friends

Nothing at the End of the Lane vs Dalek Weetabix advert

The Land of Happy Endings vs An Adventure in Space and Time

Night of the Doctor vs Step Into the 80s/On Through the 80s

12 Doctors 12 Stories vs Pond Life

Merry Christmas Doctor Who vs Clara and the TARDIS

Shada (animated reconstruction) vs The Zero Imperative

The Star Beast vs Dimensions in TIme

The Room with All the Doors vs Scream of the Shalka

The Devil of Winterborne vs The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot

The Terror Game vs The Curse of Fatal Death

Day 7

The Chimes of Midnight vs The Company of Friends: Izzy's Story

The Red Lady vs Albie's Angels

Absent Friends vs The Holy Terror

Ship in a Bottle vs The Kingmaker

Scherzo vs Jubilee

The Greatest Show in the Galaxt vs UNIT Dating

Storm Warning vs Human Resources

Seasons of Fear vs Day of the Master

To the Death vs Dragonfire

The Love Vampires vs Zagreus

Horror of Glam Rock vs The Natural History of Fear

Neverland vs Caerdroia

Doctor Who and the Pirates vs Robophobia

The Marian Conspiracy vs The Silver Turk

Better Watch Out/Fairytale in Salzburg vs The Happiness Patrol

The Grey Man in the Mountain vs A Death in the Family

[iironwreath]

PROMPTOBER!!

@solfell created this writing -ober back in 2020 and I've been doing it every october since (with varying success year by year). I still plan on using prompts from the original cards but thought it'd be fun to make more b/c I love words. ty el for giving me the template to use

text of the words below the cut (LONG):

CARD ONE:

WITCH

CANDLE

SILENCE

ELEMENTAL

HOT

SECRET

BURY

VEINED

COAST

NIGHTFALL

QUEEN

WOVEN

CATHEDRAL

LAUGHTER

DISGUST

SHELL

BROOK

GLASS

ALCHEMY

LOCK

LANTERN

DANGER

CHAIN

CORAL

SPIDER

WOODEN

PATTERN

CROWN

SCRATCHING

POWER

SKULL

CARD TWO:

WOUNDED

TURGID

BEVY

SLAYER

PALATABLE

BLOOM

KITH

RUN

BRACKISH

SNAKE

STITCH

SUNLIGHT

HIDDEN

MYTH

CLEAVE

WRATH

SMOKE

CULT

NUMB

LEAF

BLITHE

BUMBLE

MATCH

EMPTY

UPWELLING

SMITH

LIE

PUCKISH

STEEL

ENVY

THORN

CARD THREE:

APPLE

REDOLENT

CREATURE

POCKET

LEATHER

INSOMNIA

TERRENE 

BOUND

SHEAF

HEALER

EDIFICE

PEARL

PIGMENT

IVY

PALM

LOYAL

REMORSE

RUST

POOL

LOWER

BLUSH

AMITY

EMBER

CORRUPT

PATINA

KISMET

KEEL

STOOP

BOOK

ANCIENT

ONYX

CARD FOUR:

LAUREL

TRELLIS

LAKE

CHARCOAL

ERUPT

GRACE

NARROW

OCHRE

BRUISE

TEASE

BURNISH

KVETCH

LODESTONE

AQUILINE

CANVAS

FLASK

IVORY

CHARNEL

JADE

QUOTIDIAN

CAIRN

LABYRINTH

ECLIPSE

PITH

ORCHARD

WINTER

TIPPLE

FANGS

INTIMATE

HONEY

ZEPHYR

CARD FIVE:

APRICOT

CURTAIL

LURID

KELOID

FUR

LUKEWARM

CANOPY

FORMAL

BITTERSWEET

FRAGMENT

LIMPET

KNEEL

RIPOSTE

FLORAL

SMILE

HIKE

STAVE

APOGEE

DRAIN

EFFIGY

DENUDE

CARAFE

POUCH

GINGER

SOAK

AUBERGINE

DEARTH

APHOTIC

BECALM

SIGN

WALTZ

CARD SIX:

ALONE

FORGOTTEN

SILK

WHET

BRITTLE

POEM

PORT

NETTLE

ASKANCE

HARP

CHOKE

RUTILANT

MILL

SEVER

CRAVE

CHISEL

BEREFT

SERRATED

DALLIANCE

BESET

FOMENT

CHASTEN

WEALTH

FAVOURITE

BEGUILE

COMPROMISE

OAK

LACQUER

WILD

AMPLE

HALLOW