#RIP king we didn't deserve you

[hwashitape]

"Kumeyuri."

[the-carlos-cow-eyes]

What Bellamy Blake deserved: NOT FUCKING THAT

[theghostinabadbook]

My children!! Look at them!! They are together again!! And happy!!

[barbieaemond]

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn’t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting  to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos." 

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror. 

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Twenty-Nine} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader} Request {Anon}: Daemon with 1, 7 and 22...

♡♡♡ Angry dominant Daemon is just soooo hot~ ♡♡♡

2k words - Kinks: dubcon, overstim, breeding kink, possessive behavior, wall sex, angry sex, slight dom/sub ...

"What have I told you?" Your husband's voice was dark, his anger palpable as he stood in the doorway. He was still dressed for battle, armor covered in the blood of his enemies and his face splattered with it as well. His hand was clenched tight around his sword, as if ready to strike you. "What did I say before I left?"

"That I was to remain in the castle until you returned." Your voice was quiet, submissive as you averted your eyes to the floor. You tried to hide your smile as you looked down, you couldn't help that you found the fire in him enticing. He was always so gentle with you, so careful. But this? This side of him was exciting.

"Yet I hear you've been running around the town, spending time in the tavern with men who don't deserve to even look at you." His voice was dangerous, as he closed the door behind him and started taking off his armor. He was slow about it, almost methodical as he placed his sword beside the bed and set his chest plate on the table. "You disobeyed me."

You let out a chuckle at his words, he wasn't usually so possessive, and he enjoyed your wild nature. It was one of the reasons you'd caught his eye, your refusal to submit to his whims. "You know how much I hate being cooped up in the castle." You looked back up at him, meeting his gaze as you smirked. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"Sorry?" He scoffed as he removed the last of his armor, leaving him only in his breeches. He stalked towards you, reaching a hand out to roughly grab your chin. "Sorry won't save you from what I have planned." His voice was a purr as his other hand moved to your corset. "I'll keep you locked up here with my child, remind you what a good little wife you are."

"Child?" You were surprised by his words, he'd never once expressed the desire to have children. In fact, the two of you had been avoiding the possibility since the night you married. Neither of you wanted to deal with a squalling child, not when there were other pleasures you could partake in. "Daem-"

He cut you off with a harsh kiss, teeth pulling at your bottom lip as his hands tore away the laces of your corset. He didn't break the kiss, instead he pushed into the small of your back, drawing you close against his hard body. He was rough, and you couldn't deny the heat that rushed through you. He wasn't usually like this, but it was a welcome change.

"It's time, don't you agree? We have to produce an heir." His voice was soft as he spoke, moving to kiss down your jaw. "You can't be so reckless with our child inside you, can you? You'd be more careful, I'm sure."

You couldn't tell if his words were meant for you or him, but they were a comfort. He was afraid of something happening to you, and this was his way of assuring himself that wouldn't happen.

His hands were rough, yanking and tearing at your dress as if he couldn't wait another moment to see you. The fabric ripped and you gasped, pushing on his chest as you tried to get away.

"That was new, Daemon!" You were annoyed with him, the dress had been expensive and made by the best seamstress in King's Landing.

"And yet it's in pieces now." He responded, a smirk on his lips as he pulled you back to him. He didn't give you the chance to respond, his mouth finding yours again as he lifted you up.

His hands gripped the underside of your thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin as he pressed you into the nearest wall. The cold stones caused you to shiver, and you felt him smile against your lips.

He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, and you moaned at the taste of him. He was sweaty and musky, the smell and taste of war still clinging to him. You loved it, loved the way he smelled like a man should.

He broke the kiss, moving to nip and suck on the sensitive skin of your neck. He quickly unplaced his breeches with one hand, using his knee to keep you propped up against the wall.

"Do you have any idea what I wanted to do to those men when I heard?" His voice was a growl as he spoke, pressing his hips into yours. "What I should do to them, for daring to touch what's mine."

"They didn't-" Your words were cut off by a moan, as his cock rubbed against your cunt. He was hard and hot, the tip already leaking as he slowly slid into you.

"Quiet," He was slow as he entered you, stretching your walls. His voice was breathy as he spoke, his own pleasure evident.

He was slow at first, taking his time as he moved his hips. He was still kissing and sucking on your neck, marking the skin with a trail of red bruises. He wanted everyone to see, to know you were his.

You could feel the way he was holding back, the way his body trembled. He was fighting the urge to be rough, the animalistic side of him threatening to break free. But you didn't want him to hold back, didn't want him to treat you gently. You wanted him to let go, and fuck you like a wild animal.

"Am I not allowed to be admired by others?" You were taunting him, hoping to push him over the edge. "Am I not allowed to enjoy the company of handsome men?"

He chuckled at your attempt to provoke him, but it was a hollow sound. "You are not." He said simply, his grip tightening on your thighs. He increased his pace, pounding into you harder as he spoke. "I want every man in this city to know you're mine, to know you'll always be mine."

You whimpered as his words, your back arching against the wall as his cock rubbed against your sweet spot. You were already so close, and his words were doing nothing to help.

He noticed the change, the way your cunt clenched around him. He hummed, a dark smirk on his lips. "No, you won't cum until I allow it."

"Please." You whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his brutal pace. He was relentless, hitting the right spot every time.

"Not yet." He whispered, his voice dark and commanding. "You'll take what I give you."

Your eyes widened at his words, and you knew he wouldn't relent. You bit down on your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. He was punishing you, and you weren't sure how much longer you could take it.

"Will you put your heir inside me, my prince?" Your voice was a whisper, your fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders.

His only response was a grunt, and you felt him twitch inside you. Your words were working, breaking his unshakable control. He was losing himself, and you couldn't wait to see him snap.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his thrusts becoming erratic and his breathing heavy. Pounding into so hard that your head hit the stone wall, your hips slamming against it with every movement. Pain and pleasure blended into one distinct feeling, and you knew you wouldn't last much longer.

He was chasing his release, his own pleasure the only thing on his mind. There was still a rage simmering under his skin, a fire that threatened to consume the both of you. And you couldn't help but think how beautiful he was, the way the moonlight caught his sweat slick skin, the way his muscles rippled and tensed beneath his skin.

His thrusts were brutal, his grip on your thighs almost bruising as he chased his pleasure. You could feel the way his body was trembling, the way his breathing was labored. Soft little moans caught between his lips, his face contorted in a mix of lust and anger.

And then you felt it, the way his cock pulsed inside you. The warmth of his seed as it filled you, and his hips stuttered as he pressed deep inside you, holding you still. His head dropped onto your shoulder, his breath hot on your skin as he panted.

You waited, his seed already leaking out of you, but his cock was still hard. He wasn't done, not yet. He held you close, carrying you over to the bed, his cock never leaving the warmth of your cunt.

He was careful as he laid you down, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing more of him.

He began thrusting again, slower this time, and deeper. His movements were calculated, each roll of his hips perfectly aimed to bring you both the most pleasure.

His hand moved between the two of you, his thumb finding your sensitive nub. Rubbing in tight circles, and you knew it wouldn't take long. Not with the way he was pounding into you, the way his cock filled and stretched you.

"Come," He commanded, his voice low and breathless. "Let me feel you."

And that was all it took, your back arched, and your nails scratching down his chest, leaving bright red welts in their wake. Your cunt clenched around him, drawing a moan from his lips.

He followed after you, his hips snapping forward a final time, his seed filling you once more. He collapsed on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his body a solid weight pressing you into the bedding.

You ran your hands through his hair, gently combing the silky locks. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful. He was so beautiful like this, but you couldn't help but wonder what had brought on his rage, his need.

You'd heard the whispers of course, the rumors of his behavior after a battle. Some said he went mad, killing anyone in his path, while others said he used the bloodshed to fuel his lust. But only you knew the truth, with every swing of his sword, he thought of you. Worrying about your safety, his love and affection for you was what kept him fighting, what kept him going. And now he was using that passion, that fire, to claim you as his own.

He was never a man of words, his actions speaking louder than any pretty poem or flowery sonnet. He didn't have the ability to explain his feelings, but he showed them with every look, every touch.

"Do you really wish for a child?" You whispered, your voice barely audible.

He let out a soft grunt of agreement, his body shifting as he rolled off you. He laid on his side, his arm draped across your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

"You should get some rest." He whispered, his words muffled by your hair. "I plan to keep you occupied tomorrow."

"Is that so?" You asked, a smirk on your lips.

"Yes." His voice was thick with sleep, his body relaxing into the bedding. "I have to make sure I've bred you properly, after all."

You rolled your eyes, his arrogance still intact, even when tired.

"Don't roll your eyes at me." He murmured, his hand resting on your stomach. "I've seen the way you've looked at the other children, and the way the mothers gaze upon you. You're jealous, and I aim to give you what you want."

"I didn't know you were so perceptive." You teased, your eyes closing as his warmth surrounded you.

"I choose not to be." He whispered, his voice fading into nothing. His breathing was soft, his body limp as he fell asleep.

Your husband was a complicated man, and his behavior was unpredictable. But it was moments like these, when his guard was down and his thoughts were clear, that you truly saw him.

And you liked what you saw, his heart, his soul, the good and the bad. The beast, the knight, the man. It was all just him, and you wouldn't change a thing.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[yanmuffins]

Imagine if in the DC vs. Vampires universe, Reader dies shortly before Damian is even there? Dick having a lot of guilt and that's partly why he wants to turn Damian. So this baby sibling doesn't die. But Phineas Reader, Damian, Perry, and Doofenshmirts accidentally hop on over and Vampire King Dick becomes yandere? Especially when he finds out that, in a timeline you survived, his alternate neglected Reader.

Vampire Dick tries to bite us and turn us into a vampire. This registers to us as a murder attempt and we recognize the behavior in our Dick when he goes yandere? Reader just going, "He's suddenly nice to me. He's manipulating me to kill me, just like he did in the other dimension!" And Tim, who's babysitting Reader this time, flips and asks what we're talking about. "Oh. It was a really weird dimension. Dick was the Vampire King, slowly gaining power by turning all his friends and teammates into vampires, saving the Bat Family for last. But he immediately bashed your skull in after he ripped out Bruce's heart. He killed Cass and Steph and turned Damian, but the kid escaped. He tried to turn Jason, but Jason refused and the transformation didn't happen, killing him. Duke and Damian were leading the resistance against the vampires. So I helped make an invention that reversed vampirism."

Dick calls Reader cute enough to eat and reader is suddenly using aerosolized garlic like pepper spray.

i'm doing good, thank you!! ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

warning: spoilers for dc vs vampires universe.

so, assuming there was a reader in this universe who was not neglected and they're dead because of non-vampire-apocalypse-related reasons, p&f! reader's arrival causes quite the reaction. terrible timing, with the vampire quandary and all, but they're not unhappy. however, the most they can do is help p&f! reader and damian be safe and have someone with them at all times.

but i don't think dick would immediately try to turn reader. too unpredictable, plus he'd risk blowing his cover. so he wait. kills the batfam, he tries to turn reader and both damians since, well, there was an extra one so why not? but they manage to escape with only the og vampire damian being turned. and vampire king dick is so sad :(( why do none of his little siblings want to hang out and overthrow humanity with him?? :((((((

in his head he's thinking that since his alternate version couldn't appreciate his sibling (and how negligent do you have to be to not notice their inventions on bruce's backyard?), he doesn't deserve them. they should just stay here, in this world, let him turn them into a vampire so they can stay by his side! that's obviously the universe giving him a second chance.

so, when they manage to defeat him and return to their dimension, reader (and damian!) are following dick around, watching out for any signs of vampirism. tim recounts what reader told him about the vampires, and dick gets a good laugh out of it. come on, he would never do any of that!

but when dick's yandere-ness starts showing, reader will avoid him like the plague. he'll catch them eyeing him suspiciously while whispering to damian in a corner of the manor. he might not be a vampire, but sometimes there's something about him that's really unsettling...

[mur4sak1]

Elves with an insecure reader (part 1)

A/N: I apologize in advance but for this time I preferred to divide the story into two parts because I really wanted to deeply analyze this aspect of insecurity which I care a lot about. For this reason, putting them all together would have been too long and chaotic. There will be 4 characters in this one and 4 in the next one, who do you think they will be? (Remember that English is not my first language so I hope I wrote in the best way <3)

For the following part click here -> Part 2

Characters: Galdor, Maedhros, Maglor, Glorfindel

Galdor: I think we can all agree that with Galdor by your side it would be IMPOSSIBLE to feel insecure. The brown elf is so loving and caring that, whenever you have any insecurity, he would shower you with sincere and affectionate praise, making you feel like the most precious creature in all of Belerian. He would never allow a doubt to creep into your heart, especially when it comes to the way you see or perceive yourself. If your insecurity issues were purely aesthetic, I can assure you that he would never make you doubt your beauty. In his eyes you are an angel, a pure soul that only deserves to be preserved and he would be the last elf in the world capable of making you compete with anyone else. He wouldn't look at any woman and would never do anything disrespectful towards you, so it would be more unique than rare to have this kind of insecurity with him. However, as regards non-aesthetic problems, which therefore come from you, he would be by your side like no other person could. Even before you could say anything, he would already be working on it. In fact, Galdor would have a natural talent in capturing the moments when his beloved is feeling down. He would notice it from the little things; the way your breathing becomes shorter and more held, your gaze lowering, or your body movements becoming slower and less confident. And promptly, as if it were written in his DNA, he would have the most suitable reactions to comfort you and bring you back to him. Even in moments of panic, where you could become aggressive and seemingly intractable, he always managed to make you calm down and realize how far from reality your paranoia was. One thing guys, he would NEVER judge you, he would NEVER belittle any of your fears, he would always and only try to make you understand how distant the monsters in your head were from real life, from you. He was always so kind, so reassuring, so perfect that it seemed unreal. Any praise he would offer you would be genuine, not dictated by the need to make you feel better, but because, in his eyes, your qualities are evident. And it hurts him so much every time to see how much pain he causes you needlessly. How can you not see how perfect you are? He would really like you to see yourself through his eyes…

Maedhros: I firmly believe that with Maedhros, your insecurities would definitely come from his role and family situation. Being the first son of the king he would certainly have countless expectations behind him and his role would require many responsibilities which would inevitably fall on you too. Most likely you didn't come from a noble family, you didn't have a large inheritance and in addition you weren't even a pure elf, so this created quite a few insecurities and shortcomings that couldn't be calmed. However, this did not interfere with your love. Maedhros has always been by your side from the first moment, supporting you and making you understand that he did not want any woman other than you, even if that other met the requirements expected from the wife of a future elven king. There had certainly been some attempt on Feanor's part to match his son with an elf of noble lineage before you were accepted by him, but without success. In fact, he always feared that you wanted his son for money and power, and he was indignant that, not being able to offer anything, you only wanted to rip out his heart and exploit it. But he soon realized that, despite the benefits that marriages between powerful people could provide, the feeling would be in vain, and therefore a useless force (on the other hand, remember that Maedhros never married, so I imagine that was not of vital importance for Feanor). It took a while to change his mind and make him realize that you really cared about him, and when that happened the situation calmed down slightly. Feanor's strong and greedy character was difficult to identify and you never understood if he had ever really accepted you or if he just tolerated you, and not being fully appreciated by him made you suffer a lot. But the fact that he knew how deep your love for his son was, was enough. Furthermore, the redhead would become even more sensitive and sweet after Angband. He himself had fought against his insecurities after his imprisonment and the pain caused by the loss of his hand... precisely for this reason he understood more than anyone else what it meant to feel vulnerable. You had always been by his side, you had never judged him for his fears and weaknesses, giving him all the strength he needed, so he would never have allowed himself to let you suffer alone. Maedhros would be patient, never forcing you to talk about your insecurities if you don't feel like it, but always remaining by your side, ready to offer you his comfort when you are ready to open up.

Maglor: Maglor would be very capable at dealing with an insecure person. Although he wasn't the eldest brother, he was certainly the most mature and empathetic in the family and for this reason he often found himself having to deal with little crying pests or giving them strength when they didn't feel up to Feanor's expectations. I want to clarify one thing, because I believe that in Maglor's eyes, having an insecure person alongside would be a great fortune. In fact, if on the paternal side traits such as strength, determination and pride were strengthened, on her side, Nerdanel placed great emphasis on maintaining humility and humanity, love for life and the attempt to preserve it. Their mother was in fact against all the atrocities that her husband wanted to commit and it was she who had kept his impulses in check for the first period of their marriage. However, when he urged the Noldor to abandon Valinor, she refused to follow him, remaining faithful to his values. The separation, however, caused great pain to Maglor who, in part, felt responsible for following them as the "only maternal and reasonable figure" who could stand by her brothers. He never wanted to leave his home but he was afraid of what could happen to them in the hands of his father's violent obsession with power. Consequently, for him it was like being able to always keep a part of your mother and all of her teachings alive in you, not having to always be forced to pretend to be "detached" to gain respect in a world much crueler than he would have ever imagined. In fact, when your insecurity arose, helping you overcome it made him feel good, made him feel useful. Maglor was also very unsure of himself, not in terms of his diplomatic or artistic skills, but in terms of feeling valid, feeling necessary. In fact, he thought he was not usefull and was a simple secondary character without any fundamental role... but when he helped others he felt important, as being someone's support, as his mother had taught him, becomes the necessary condition that allows your sun to shine, and you surely were all his light.

Glorfindel: Despite his imposing figure and status, Glorfindel would be very attentive to the feelings of the person he loves and would make it his main goal to eliminate even the smallest traces of insecurity or worry in you. But the way he would do it, oh boy, would it really make you laugh. Given how deep the love and the respect he has for you is, just to see you smile and stop the cold tears from staining your face, he would go so far as to embarrass himself; he would never worry about appearing uncomfortable in public if it meant making you feel better. In fact, very often, Glorfindel would resort to gestures that are both exaggerated and unexpected. Imagine finding him in the middle of the square in Gondolin telling some awkward joke or improvising some stupid interaction with the world around you to try to make you smile. If someone looked at him with perplexity, the blond elf wouldn't worry in the slightest: the only thing that matters to him is seeing your face shine again. And if that meant putting aside his heroic and dignified figure for a few minutes, he would do so without hesitation. His clumsiness is not just an attempt to distract you, but also a way to show you that you are much more important to him than his reputation or pride. And when he finally sees your expression relax and your eyes shine again, he would approach you with a disarming tenderness. "You see?" he would say with a playful smile but a very serious tone, "If I can make fun of myself to make you feel better, then no doubt or insecurity should ever faze you. You are much stronger than all of that."

[munstysmind]

BIRTHDAY CAKE - CHRIS EVANS

WARNING/S: Implied smut, Chris being adorable… that needs a warning, right??

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

MAIN MASTERLIST

please let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list

A loud crash comes from the kitchen, ripping you from your sleep. As soon as your brain registers its sudden return to consciousness, you groan loudly in protest and rub your eyes before reaching over to get phone from the bedside table and check the time.

It's just after ten.

You let out another groan as you stretch your entire body out before relaxing back into your boyfriend's king-sized bed.

You came back to Boston with him at the start of quarantine. Both of you were out of work with the film, and basically every other nonessential, industry being shut down so there was no real reason you had to stay in LA.

That was three months ago now and honestly, you both love living together. So much so that last week he asked you if you wanted to make it permanent. Of course, you'd said yes. The two of you had just slotted into each other's routines and quirks so seamlessly it was like you'd been living together for years. Your two-year relationship has never been stronger.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by another loud crash.

"Damn it" you hear him say, sounding extremely frustrated.

"What the hell is he doing?" you say to yourself as you get up and throw on his shirt from yesterday before heading out to see what all the commotion was about.

Pressing your lips together, you hold back a laugh as you lean against the door frame and take in the sight in front of you.

The kitchen is a complete disaster. Flour is everywhere. The floor, the counter... Chris.

Lord knows what he's trying to do.

"What happened in here?" you ask, causing him to jump and quickly try to hide what he's doing behind his back.

"I thought you were asleep" he says, brushing away the flour from the front of his shirt.

"I was"

"Fuck... I woke you up, didn't I?"

"Yeah"

"I'm sorry"

"It's OK. What are you doing?"

"Nothing"

"Then why are you trying to hide baking supplies behind you?"

"Well... it's your birthday"

"Go on"

"I'm trying to bake you a birthday cake"

"Chris...

"I don't remember it being this hard when I helped Ma as a kid"

"That's because Mama Evans is an amazing baker and did all the work while simultaneously making you think you were helping"

You make your way over to him and brush the flour he's somehow managed to get in his hair before sitting on the bench opposite him.

"You, my love, are a man of many talents but cooking and baking isn't really one of them" you tell him as you rest your arms on his shoulders and play with the hair at the back of his neck.

"I make a mean pesto egg, everyone loves them" he says, wearing the cute pout you love.

"They are an exception"

"I should have just got a box mix, I know I can't fuck that up"

"You went to all this effort just for me, you have no idea how much that means"

"We're stuck in lockdown and your family's on the other side of the country. I just... I wanted to make your day special"

"You make all my days special" you tell him quietly as a smile spreads across your face. You've never met anyone as loving as him. You don't know what you did to deserve him in your life, but you thank whatever greater power is responsible every single day that he is.

"I wanted today to be extra special. It's not every day that you turn thirty" he says with a shit eating grin that makes you roll your eyes.

"Urghhh, don't remind me"

"Hey, how to you think I feel, I'm the big four zero next year"

"I thought we were talking about me"

"We are, I was just saying"

"I can help, with the cake"

"Nope, it's your day".

"Is that so?"

"Yes"

"So does that mean I get to do whatever I want?"

"Yep"

"Then, I'm going to remove my boyfriend's shirt in the middle of the kitchen so he doesn't make a mess on the way to the bedroom".

"And why am I going to the bedroom exactly?"

"Because it's my birthday and I want my man to eat me out then rail me into the bed until I can't remember my own name"

"Well, in that case" he says with a smirk as he lifts his arms up like a child, making you laugh before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head.

You lean forward and kiss his chest as he takes his shirt from you and blindly throws it over his shoulder into the pile of flour on the counter.

He takes your face and kisses you, hard, before sliding his hands down your back to your hips and pulling you close, your chests flush with each other.

You let out a quiet moan as he starts pressing open mouthed kisses up your neck, wrapping your legs around his waist when he sinks his teeth into your skin before tracing it with his tongue to soothe the sting.

He knows exactly what to do to make you come undone in 0.5 seconds.

"Fuck, Chris" you gasp, threading you fingers into his hair as he sucks a bruise onto your flesh. You pull his hair, bringing his face back to yours and kissing him.

He pulls away with a grin, making you whimper and follow him, trying to lock lips again.

With a chuckle he puts his hands under your thighs and lifts you off the bench, throwing yo over his shoulder.

"Chris!" you squeal as he starts heading towards the bedroom, Dodger following right behind him.

"No Bub. Trust me, you don't want to see what I'm about to do" he tells your fur baby, slapping you ass as if to prove a point, making you squeal again.

It's about to be the best birthday ever...

GENERAL TAGLIST: @aussieez @rookiemartin @babeyyemor @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @chickensarentcheap @dhoruwolfie @themaradwrites @cali-nyc5 @darsynia @diamondoftheball @wewannasaygoodnight @sweetbunnyliddle @kingliam2019 @angelcavill66 @mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @secretdream2 @identity2212 @fanfics-r-us-official @km-ffluv @dream-beyond-the-fantasy @ktficworld @juliaorplI78 @henry-cavs-tudor @red-write-hand @queenzee27 @kandis-mom

[epickiya722]

"Had Yuji listened to Sukuna---"

ABOUT WHAT?!

What exactly had Sukuna ever actually said to Yuji that would make Yuji trust him?

Yuji may have had the choice to eat that Cursed Finger (mind you, to save people and we know damn well Kenjaku would have found some way for him to consume a finger regardless), but nothing from that point Sukuna actually proved himself to be someone for Yuji to trust.

Let's not forget Sukuna also made choices that he himself could have not made.

He may have been an unwanted child, but does that excuse him in present day to torture Yuji? Does it?

Him waking up in Yuji's body and immediately going "I wanna cause a massacre" is a trauma response? HE LAUGHED ABOUT THAT! Sukuna was ready to kill innocent people! And later did so!

What's the excuse for the Hasaba Twins? "They ordered--" They begged! They begged him for him to help and he chose to kill those girls when he could have just ignored them and walked away. They didn't attack him! They were literally bowing to him!

The Shibuya Incident?! Oh, so some of you are going to forget he showed Yuji the destruction left to break the kid? I could have sworn Sukuna was smirking in that scene.

Is there an excuse for him to kill Tsumiki (while Yorozu possessed her body)? He did that to break down Megumi's soul, who he is practically holding hostage!

Sukuna is downright evil! Let's acknowledge that!

Sukuna responds to his challengers and does however he sees fits, but there are times he had no excuse to do whatever he does to Yuji, who only challenged Sukuna once because he ripped out his heart.

Of course, Yuji would ignore him! And it's not like Sukuna actually tries to talk to Yuji in a way that would get Yuji to like him in the slightest. We all seen and heard what Sukuna has said and done to him!

What would be the "sad reason" behind Sukuna ripping out Yuji's heart right in front of Megumi? Laughing in his face after Yuji begged him to help with Junpei?

If Hana and Angel could have a mutual respectful relationship, why couldn't Yuji and Sukuna?

Because Sukuna is pure evil. He chose to treat Yuji the way he does.

We don't know much of Sukuna's past but what we do know is that people were terrified of him. He killed many. People held festivals for him. He got the name "King of Curses" that he doesn't even deny unlike Yuji would doesn't care for the title "Tiger of West Middle".

I'm a Sukuna fan, but I say he does deserve whatever is coming to him by Yuji's hands because Yuji Itadori is the person he has wronged the most ever since Yuji swallowed that finger, which is the only wrong choice Yuji made (but Gojo... could have been faster, just saying...).

Also, uh... Yuji was born to be Sukuna's vessel... he was practically cursed since before he was born and Yuji didn't ask for that! So regardless, Yuji would have suffered somehow because Sukuna's involvement (and Kenjaku's).

Like, ain't no way Sukuna's misdeeds are being watered down like that and Yuji is being blamed for "not listening" to him and wanting to kill this man. Same kid who is willing to die just as long as Sukuna is dead.

Him bringing Yuji back to life that second time wasn't even prompted by Sukuna himself, in Shibuya. Jogo and the Hasaba Twins fed an unconscious Yuji those Fingers.

Sukuna never brought Yuji back to life without some selfish reason.

You're telling me him saying this isn't worth trying to stop him?! Keep in mind the new Tengen was supposed to be Tengen and humanity combined... Sukuna pretty much said he's going to kill humanity. People who don't even know what's going on? Families, children... that doesn’t make you go "Oh, he gotta go"?!

[ripleylove]

Safe in my embrace.

requested by anonymous saying: I love your writing and no pressure. Would you be comfortable writing a story about reader protecting Don from Liv. You can have full creative control. I just need something to get my mind away from the ick. But like I said if you're not comfortable, no worries.

pairing: Dominik Mysterio x fem reader.

genre: fluff and a bit of angst.

summary: With Liv pulling her usual stunts,you finally had enough of her uncomfortable advances to Dominik,and you decided to teach her a lesson to protect your boyfriend.

warnings: the whole liv and dom storyline,mention of SA,reader fighting liv

A/N: I hate this storyline I hate this storyline I hate this storyline

(this is based on the raw events of july 1st also lets pretend dom won and rey didnt)

⋆ ˚｡⋆𔓘⭒๋࣭

It all started with that kiss.

You knew Dominik wasn't at fault in all of this,hell,he was the victim.

He was the one that didn't consent to this at all,he was the one who wasn't liking this one bit and he was the one being a victim of sexual assault from Liv.

And this got worse every single week.

This week though, you really had enough.

While watching Dominik and Rey's match backstage,you felt someone's shoulder colliding with yours,almost making you lose balance.

"What the fuck?" You said,trying to look for the culprit,that you quickly found.

In fact,in front of you,there was Liv Morgan with her championship belt slung over her shoulder,while wearing a "Daddy Dom shirt".

She turned to you and smirked,while waving her fingers in a 'goodbye' motion.

You were already raging,but now you just wanted to kick her ass.

Also,even her shirt pissed you off; and if tonight she dared to make one of her stupid moves on Dominik, you weren't going to hold back.

As the match your boyfriend had kept going,you suddenly hear the familiar "watch me",and you stood from your sit,ready to storm off in the ring to give her a good old beating.

Dominik slid out of the ring,and his father decided to take action,by kicking him in the back of the head.

Thanks to the kick,Dominik landed on Liv Morgan,making them fall on the floor while they had their arms wrapped around each other.

The panic in Dominik's was evident,and that was your last straw: you rushed out in the ring,ripping Liv off Dominik.

"Leave Dominik alone!" You shouted,while punching her face nonstop.

Everyone was shocked,even the commentators,that,in fact, gasped in the microphone.

"No way Liv is getting her ass beaten by Dominik's girlfriend!" Michael Cole said,and Corey Graves,that was here to take the place of the absent Pat McAfee,laughed loudly.

"I must say,that this wasn't on my 2024 bucket list,but I'm enjoying this!" Corey Graves said,while you still kept on slapping and kicking Liv,the whole scene being shown on the big screens.

Soon enough,medics and referees arrived to take you away from Liv,but you still weren't satisfied.

With one last slap,you got off her and went to Dominik,who won his match against Rey.

"This was-" He started,and he laughed to himself. "Definitely something".

You both laughed,and you continued: "It was deserved though, I hope she won't dare so assault you again,or else we all know what might happen. C'mere,baby."

You opened your arms,and he happily complied with a smile on his lips adorned with the iconic mustache.

"I love you,mami. Thank you for stopping all of this." He whispered,since you all were still in front of the cameras,and he embraced you even more tightly.

"It's nothing,love. Someone would have done it sooner or later,right?" You said and he laughed.

"Also,getting to beat her up was what I have been waiting since,if I'm not wrong,the king and queen of the ring tournament. So yeah,I hope she has learned her lesson,and if she hasn't,I won't hesitate to do the same thing I did today." You continued with a smirk on your face,and Dominik pulled away,giving you a chaste peck on your lips.

"You're right,mami. You always protect me,and I'ma do the same for you." He said while pulling you close to him. You smiled and said,

"That's right,remember,you'll always be safe in my embrace."

After this,you both celebrated his victory,with Liv Morgan still passed out on the floor,while you proudly held up your boyfriend's arm,just like a referee would do.

taglist: @stellakiddsblog @bibibi-tchx @p-mp @teenagedramaqueenlisa @thegalacticnacho091 @judgementdaysunshine

[niniane17]

I mentioned it in the tags earlier, but I feel this deserves a post.

This may be a bit of an unpopular opinion, but I really liked that Adar chose not to reveal his Elf name. Sure it is a bummer that we won't ever know, but I loved it so much that I don't care. Adar's refusal to tell his old name symbolizes his rejection of his old Elvish identity in favor of his new one.

It's not like he doesn't remember being an Elf -he clearly does! He remembers his name and his old language and his old face! And he still rejected them! He could have kept the ring for himself, and tried to buy his way into the Elves again, but he didn't. He put on the ring, saw what it had to offer him, what the Elves (NOT Sauron) had to offer him, and he said "thanks, but no thanks". Why did he reject the power of the Elves, again? To stay an Orc. Sorry, an Uruk.

This is an incredibly powerfuI and brave decision from the show: it would have been easy to tie Adar's healed look into a "redemption" in which he immediately loathed his past as an Orc, especially since the show chose to use the idea that Orcs are descended from corrupted/tortured Elves. But they didn't! I will always love the show for this alone.

In a world where Elves are seen as the Best of the Best and Orcs as the lowest of the low, he chose the latter, not out of self-hatred or a shallow sense of power, but out of pride, honor and yes, even love. He loves being an Uruk, and he loves his children as Uruks. He's not trying to turn them into Elves, like a reverse Morgoth. He just wants a home for them, where they can live in peace. He clearly believes this is possible. And, for a while, they do too.

It is no accident he started to lose them the moment he began acting like Sauron, treating them as pawns and things to be sacrificed for his revenge. That doesn't excuse the Orcs' betrayal (like guys, come on!!!) but it does explain it -if they are going to be treated like shit, they may as well be treated like shit by the most powerful guy around, so they resorted to what they know best: backstabbing.

You know, I was going to make a joke about how the Orcs can't handle Daddy having a bad day, but then I realized it's not a joke at all -they literally can't! They never had a leader like that before! So they panicked and chose the old familiar pain Sauron represents. The curse of abusive cycle strikes again.

This is why Adar's death is so tragic: he was killed like Sauron was, but, unlike him, he sincerely wanted the best for the Orcs, or, at the very least, didn't want them to be slaves. The worst thing is that, as far as canon goes, this is be the last time someone truly stands up for them, and the Orcs will subsequently in enslavement for thousands of years.

RIP again king. You shall be missed.

(Also he and Galadriel should have kissed at some point and the ring scene between the two is clearly a marriage proposal but that's beside the point)

[viktorpartner]

✨ THE DAN AND PHIL LORE pt. 3✨

CHECK OUT PART 2: https://www.tumblr.com/ashleyeveerson/760707933651746816?source=share

Phil ALSO comes out! (yeah no i'm not crying what? not them feeling comfortable enough to be themselves yeah). 2019 also brings us the adoption of a fish named Norman (a cutie) AND they also post pictures about their recent trip to Japan [the photo of Phil looking up to Dan behind the camera? yeah i am so normal about it, i swear]. There is hope in the horizon still for a Dan and Phil comeback...

BAM! A certain virus runs wild and forces everyone to stay at home. Phil continues to upload solo videos which distracted so many of us during these dark times. Dan, however is AWOL and the only pic we have of him is a shitty screenshot of him in glasses and a mask helping Phil rescue an injured pigeon (lockdown was WILD).

Also, my boy Dan post a cryptic tweet that leads to the announcement of a self-help book named YOU WILL GET THROUGH THIS NIGHT (because you will <3). Nah but I can't count how many times I've sobbed reading it, just him trying to help out others who have also struggled with mental health... istg i love this man

Hey so THEY BUY THEIR FOREVER PHOUSE TOGETHER they're gonna kill me one day istg. "Dan and Phil just decided to pay a mortgage together", top 10 sentences that would kill a 2016 phan. They are slaying, they are glowing... also rip Norman the fish you will not be forgotten

So during 2014 the fates (aka a random youtuber) foretold that Dan and Phil would be married in 2022. Since that clearly didn't happen the meme PHIVORCE united the phandom once more. ALSO Dan is out there shitting on youtube (as he should) and going on his solo tour WE'RE ALL DOOMED! Which i love with all my heart and also Phil being there for him every step of the way... AHHHHHHHH

Anyways a certain video called Dan and Phil finally tell the truth hits the internet and let's just say GOD DAMN. This also starts a wonderful trend amongst Dan and Phil in which they make fun of their audience (we deserve it ngl) and absolutley SHOCK US with new information about bonkers shit from their past [apparently they were offered a threesome MULTIPLE TIMES???]

It's the end. They've decided to give up their channel "Dan and Phil Games" forever... let's take a moment and silent and mourn with a compilation of Heart eyes Howell

...

SIKE! We're back baby and we're better than ever!!! The goodbye video turned out the be an ANNOUNCEMENT of their comeback. They are back, Dil Howlter is here and Phil confesses to having dyed everything green in the house when Dan went on tour bc he missed him (OH GOD). Also, the Halloween baking video introduced us to the icon that is.... *drumroll please*

SISTER DANIEL, the queen of making everyone reconsider their sexuality... she is the moment, she is an icon and she is serving astronomical levels of cunt at all time [jokes aside, Dan being comfortable enough to do drag in public, fuck they've come so far i'm so proud of them <3].

And here we are in the future, it's present day and they are queerer and happier than ever. THE PICTURES I CAN'T ISTG. Also Dan's Birthday stream is beyond iconic. First of all my unproblematic kings make it a charity stream to donate to the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund (using their public influence for good hell yeah)... And how did they raise the money you ask? WELL BY HITTING IS WHERE WE'RE WEAKEST. Sister Daniel makes a spectacular comeback, FATHER PHIL is introduced and Dan even dyes his hair red to be more Good Omens coded... which timeline are we living in again? like how is any of this real?

Also them drawing the PINOF whiskers on their faces again... they're literally growing old together I'm gonna go sob in a corner. Also the fake apology video bc they have no fashion sense in the Sims 4 is hilarious as fuck. HOW CAN THEY POSSIBLY BE SO MUCH HOTTER ON THEIR THIRTIES EXPLAIN??

anyways the phandom is still speculating wether they're erasing "i love you's" at the end of their text when they show them on videos... guess some things never change. Nah but the vibes are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT NOW, they are more open than they've ever been and participate on the phan culture FULLY to the point that they're the ones terrorizing us now.

QUICK DETOUR TO TALK ABOUT PHIL'S FAMOUS BAD LUCK (and then they wonder why he's always dying in the fanfics). Nah but my poor man has had his fair share of medical problems, the most recent being...

OH GOD WHY WOULD YOU ANNOUNCE SOMETHING LIKE THAT THIS WAY?? nah like using humor as a coping mechanism and all but do they wanna gives a heart attack?! iconic i fear however

So yeah the video where they talk about it is WILD (funniest shit about the whole ordeal is that a nurse mistook Dan as Phil's son). Also I saw a tweet speculating about Phil having a hickey like... first of all what is it? 2009? Second of all IT'S MOST LIKELY A POPPED VESSEL FROM LOSING ALL THAT BLOOD YOU KNOW

They still were able to go on their vacation (aka the rodent boy summer) which gifted us with this iconic pics... ALSO they dropped a new Dan and Phil beats for summer go check out the names of the tracks istg they wanna kill their fans.

Nothing is sacred anymore, they've infiltrated twtphan, they're actively reposting memes and writing fanfiction about themselves. It's the wild west, everytime you get a notification is like playing Russian Rulet. Cringe is dead and Dan and Phil ARE COMING NEAR YOUR CITY on a tour named "Terrible Influence" where Phil's spent 300€ on silicone. It's a wonderful time to be a phan.

OKAY SO here's some stuff that didn't make the cut but that i find too hilarious to not mention. In no apparent order: DAN DRESSING UP AS A CATBOY, Dan and Phil playing technicians 1 and 2 on Big Hero 6 and two brothers on the Lion King (wtf was that also they gave the gorilas matching fringes), Dan dressing up as a golden pig (my boy has RANGE) and finally Dan being too embarassed to admit he stalked Phil and telling a reporter he was only asking for "editing tips" if you know what i mean

Also a short compilation of Dan and Phil losing the idgaf war against eachother THEY ARE SO THOUGHTFUL ABOUT EVERYTHING. Special mention to Daniel's 🧡 when Phil praised "We're all doomed!" and Dan's ranch metaphor to describe their relationship (just go watch the mukkbang video OH LORD)

SO, in conclusion... Dan and Phil's refusal to belittle their past and instead embrace it as part of their story while actively moving into the future alongside the phandom YEAH THAT SHIT MEANS SOMETHING. They're simultaneously healing our inner child while embracing us as the adults we've become i have many feelings about them

So what are they?

They're just Dan and Phil.

[gachawolfiebloom]

A Grumpy Troll and A Prince

Chapter 1: Lives of Misery and Joy

Tags: Comedy, action, adventure, and romance

Once upon a time...

In a happy forest, in the happiest tree lived the happiest creatures ever known...

The trolls!

These cute and tiny creatures loved nothing more than to sing, dance, and hug, dance, and hug, and sing, and dance, and sing, and hug, and dance-

Well you get the idea -_-

But then one day the trolls were discovered by a bergen!

The bergens didn't know how to sing, dance, or hug. They were the most miserable creatures in all the land. Once they saw how happy the trolls were, they wanted some of that happiness for themselves.

Eating a troll made them feel so happy that they started a tradition...

Once a year, every year, the bergens would gather around the troll tree to taste true happiness.

On a holiday called...TROLLSTICE!!!

—

The king of the bergens was fast asleep until the door slammed open. His son, prince X was already up and had come to wake his father up.

"Good morning dad!"

It was very early in the morning so it was going to be quite hard to get him up at this hour. "Dad wake up!" He was quite pestering, but since he was just a kid it was perfectly understandable why X had so much energy.

He began jumping over the bed as he just kept shouting "Dad! Dad! Dad!" If this exhaustion continued then they might miss this special day. With not a second to lose, the prince grabbed the king's chest hairs and ripped them clean off at full force.

"AHHHHHH!!!!" The king's eyes shot open and he yelled "X! What time is it?" The young prince squealed as he replied "It's trollstice!"

The castle doors flew open as the king yelled out to all of his kingdom "Trollstice! Our one day to be happy!" All of the bergens didn't spare a second as they all hurried to the troll tree that was in the middle of town. They all chanted "We want trolls! We want trolls! We want trolls!"

As they all gathered around the troll tree, a familiar voice addressed the crowd.

"Please give it up for your keeper of the trolls. Your master of happiness. Your royal entertainer..."

The figure that the voice belonged to turned around to find that it was...

"Me."

It was none other than the TV Adware, Mr Puzzles himself. All the bergens cheered, which pleased  him very much. He did love a good show after all. "This is a very special trollstice as one of us has never tasted a troll before." The young prince in the crowd gasped. "He's talking about me!" Mr Puzzles stuck a hand out to X .

"Prince X, your time has come." The king gave a warm smile to his son as he reassured him that he had been quite the nervous one when he had his first troll. The prince nodded and took his royal entertainer's hand.

"I present you to the ways of true happiness."

He opened the gate to the tree and pointed to a flower that was sitting on a branch. "I have chosen a extra special troll for you." He took the supposed "troll" and bent down to the little bergen.

"The happiest, most positive, sweetest troll of all...and because every prince deserves royalty, I give you the one they call prince Smg4!"

In pure excitement, X snatched the troll out of Mr Puzzle's hands and whispered "Please make me happy Smg4." He stuck him in his mouth and began chewing. The ominous TV man watched with a smug and curious grin.

"What are you feeling?"

Suddenly, the prince spit out the troll in disgust. "That's rotten!" It actually wasn't a troll at all. Mr Puzzles examined it to find it was only a wooden replica of the actual prince. "It's...fake!?"

"FAKE!?"

Mr Puzzles turned towards the tree in shock and kicked it, causing thousands of copies to rain down, teasing the entertainer for being tricked like that. X started to get worried as his breath quickened. "They're gone!?" The king's anger started to rise as he sternly asked "Where are they..."

Mr Puzzles stuck his hands out defensively and said "Don't worry. I'll find them!" The prince could hear some kind of disturbance in the ground as he placed his head down closer to the ground. It sounded like...the pitter patter of little feet?

Underneath the tunnels, all the trolls were hurrying to escape this hellhole of a kingdom. "Here comes Smg4!" The trolls passed along the little prince up to his father. He had just been born and it was very crucial that the poor little troll was protected at all costs. The king of the trolls breathed a sigh of relief when his son was safe in his arms. "There's my little prince."

One of the trolls informed him that some of the others couldn't keep up. The king had sworn to make sure that none of the trolls were left behind and he was intended to keep that promise. He scooped up any troll that couldn't make it and generously used his clothes to cover mud puddles.

It started to become increasingly harder to catch up as the tunnels were broken into by shovels and pickaxes. What could be going on up there? That question was answered as all the bergens were ferociously digging away on the surface while the king yelled out "DON'T JUST STAND THERE! MAKE MY SON HAPPY!"

Mr Puzzles grabbed a pickaxe and yelled back "HE WILL BE HAPPY!" as he threw it into the ground. As the tunnels were collapsing, that very tool used to slash the ground had caught the king and he was stuck. A shovel was about to block the path so in a flash of heroism, he threw the injured trolls he was carrying to safety.

Luckily they all had made it to the end with the others, but one thing was missing. Where was the king?

"I don't think the king made it..."

They all gasped as it was fair to assume that their heroic and brave leader was dead. He had sacrificed himself for his kingdom. Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a voice echoed through the tunnel.

"When I said no troll left behind, I meant it!"

The king was okay and...*ahem* uh lacking some body coverage.

One of the trolls realized someone was missing as he piped up "Wait! Where is prince Smg4?" The king gave a reassuring look and said "Don't worry. He's safe." He pulled the prince out from his hair as the cute baby chanted "No troll left behind!"

"Awwww." That was the most adorable thing they had seen all day. The king got back to the matter at hand as he ushered all his subjects away from this terrible place. "But we'll be a lot safer the further we get from bergen town." The trolls had all successfully escaped and were off to find a new place to call home.

Meanwhile at bergen town, the bergens had formed an angry mob and took away Mr Puzzles. "That's right! Take him away! Get him out of my sight!" No matter how much this adware struggled to escape, he could not break free from the angry grasps of the citizens.

"YOU ARE HERBY BANISHED FROM BERGEN TOWN FOREVER!!!"

When the overcome could not be achieved by physical force, Mr Puzzles tried to convince them to give him a second chance. "We can all be happy again! I'll find the trolls!"

They tossed him into the dirt and closed off the passage into the kingdom. Getting up and wiping mud off his face, Mr Puzzles was very irritated on losing his status and reputation. He had a broken antenna and a glitching screen while replying with a cold expression "And I'll shove them down your ungrateful throats..."

Poor X watched the chaos outside as he went up to his dad to ask him a question. "Dad...I never got to eat a troll. What's going to make me happy now?" The king's servant, FM, who was just as old as the young prince, watched the conversation while cleaning the floor.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You will never be happy."

X sulked and wallowed with one final reply. "Never?" His father nodded and the realization sunk in that he would be miserable for the rest of his life. FM couldn't help but feel sorry for the prince as there was a strong feeling that just wanted to make him comfort that young bergen. With nothing but cleaning duties to do, FM sighed and got back to work.

_

After days of searching, the trolls finally found what they were looking for. A beautiful forest that was filled with luscious resources. The king looked at the sight and announced to his citizens "Here! This is where we will rebuild our civilization! It has everything we need. Fresh air, clean water, and...SWEET ACOUSTICS!" The prince took out his cowbell and began banging it as a catchy rhythm began to play.

~20 years later~

The prince had just finished reading this very story to some troll children. "Twenty years ago today, the king made us safe and now every troll is free to live in perfect harmonyyyyy..." The kids joined in on the sweet sounding key. "That's why we hug every hour!" One of the kids cheered. "Yup!"

"I wish it was every half hour." One of the other kids replied. "So do I, but that wouldn't leave much time for singing and dancing would it?" Suddenly, a question of curiosity entered this innocent child's mind as they shyly raised their hand. "Prince Smg4? Do the bergens still want to eat us?"

"You bet!" They all gasped. Dang. Very subtle to drop that statement on a bunch of young children after reading that terrifying story...

"But just because it's the only way they'll ever be happy."

"Isn't there anything else that will make them happy?"

The young trolls tried to think of solutions that could solve this problem. If it still hadn't been resolved for 20 years then it seemed very unlikely to easily clear that up.

"What about having birthday parties?"

"Or slumber parties!"

"Or staring at your parents while they sleep."

"..."

"I don't want to be food!" Four came over and comforted the frightened little troll. "Don't worry. No troll ever will be." Now back to the more positive side of things as there was a special event going on tonight. "That's why we're celebrating with the biggest party ever! Everybody is going to be there!"

One of the trolls piped with interest about a certain someone. "Everybody...?" The prince was quite confident that  "everybody" would be there and he was going to make sure of it. He took out the cowbell that he had ever since he was a baby and began banging it with excitement. The leaves of the plant that they were in, opened up as Four did what he did best.

"Everybody, move your hair and fell united! Ohhh!"

He danced down the staircase and began sliding down a stem as he used his hair to flip himself into the air.

"Everybody, shake your hair and feel united! Ohhhh!"

He began making dramatic poses that models do as the music pumped him up.

"Yeah!"

Four started to hand out invitations from a basket he was carrying for the big party.

"Everybody's coming to the celebration. Imma hook you up with your invitation. Let your hair swing and party with me. No bad vibes just love, you'll see."

He and Bob began to pull out some wicked dj skills on top of some kind of bug-like creature.

"Do the D-A-N-C-E. One-two-three-four fight! Stick to the B-E-A-T. Get ready to ignite!"

The bug creature exploded into hundreds of butterflies as Four and his friends all danced together with all the trolls and all the other creatures that seemed to live with them in the forest.

"You are such a P-Y-T. Catching all the lights. Just easy as A-B-C. That's how you make it right!"

Meggy pulled out a sick beatbox trap as she danced some fancy footwork.

"It ain't hard out here when you're doing it right. Put a smile on blast. That's the troll life!"

"And I'm here to help you through it! Come on Boopkins, I know you can do it!"

Boopkins was trying to lift a huge dumbbell as Four's confidence made him shoot it high into the sky. Using this as an opportunity, Four took the basket of invitations and dumped it down for all the trolls to collect one. Mario wanted to take a picture of his pet, Mario Junior with the invitation. He framed the picture on the wall and tapped his chin in thought.

"Still needs something..."

Luigi got an idea as he took some glitter and threw it on the picture. Mario stood in silence until he turned back to his brother and stared intensely at him.

"That's gay!"

Four and all of his friends, Mario, Meggy, Luigi, Bob, Boopkins, Tari, and Melony were singing and dancing on a leaf that was sliding down the same stem from earlier.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop the beat! I can't stop, can't stop, can't stop the beat! I won't stop, won't stop, won't stop the beat! Go!"

The trolls all began to hold hands as they danced and sang around the forest.

"Everybody, shake your hair and feel united! Ohhhh!"

Turns out troll hair could do a lot more than we knew because the trolls had made their hair blue and wavy to resemble and ocean while using leaves to make the boat while poor Boopkins was stuck as the sail.

"Sunshine day! Everybody's singing! Sunshine day! Everybody move your hair and feel united! Ohhh!"

The trolls began stacking themselves on top of each other with displays of rainbows, hearts, flowers, and of course...glitter.

"Yeah!"

They all breathed heavily as that performance was quite a mouthful. However, not everyone thought it was terrific...

Case in point, one troll was slowly clapping with an disapproving expression on his face. It was Smg3, the grumpiest troll in all of the village. He had quite the faded tone of skin and hair, a prickly beard, and of course, the sourest expression out of all the trolls. Unlike the others, the thought of singing and dancing made him disgusted and he hated all the trolls...especially the prince.

"Unbelievable guys. Really, really great. Good job. I COULD HEAR YOU FROM A MILE AWAY!"

"Good. I was worried we weren't projecting enough."

"Four. If I can hear you...so can the bergens."

The others all rolled their eyes and groaned in annoyance. Three was always complaining about the bergens and how they were going to come back to eat them all. It really made you wonder why he was the only one who was so concerned about this.

"Oh boy."

"Here we go again...🙄"

"Oh Three..."

"You always ruin everything."

"Warning us about the bergens."

Three looked confused. He didn't do it that much. Did he? Turns out he had ruined a birthday party, wedding, and even a funeral with that stupid bergen talk of his.

"Oh come on. We haven't seen a bergen in 20 years. They're not going to find us."

"No. They aren't going to find ME! Because I'll be in my highly camouflaged, heavily fortified, bergen-proof survival lair."

"You mean you aren't coming to the party tonight?"

The others tried to hype up and encourage him to come.

"But it's going to be the biggest..."

"LOUDEST..."

"The craziest party ever!"

Three couldn't believe these idiots. He never showed up to these things for the fear of what risks he was taking if he did. 

"Big? Loud!? Crazy!? YOU'RE JUST GOING TO LEAD THE BERGENS RIGHT TO US!"

Mario was getting sick of this guy's attitude as he leaned over to Four and whispered "Are you sure you want to invite this party pooper to poop all over your party?" Four responded with a much more positive tone, despite these two being total opposites of each other.

"Yes! I think everyone deserves to be happy!"

"I don't do happy."

"Three, I know there is happiness inside you. You just need our help to find it."

He pulled out a creative looking invitation that had a little Three, holding a heart that said "Three you're invited!" The mini version of him sang "Celebrate freedom from the bergens!" Three didn't look impressed. That annoyed expression stayed stuck on his face, even when the card spit out glitter all over his face. Four on the other hand, looked at him with a willing face in hopes he would say yes.

"What do you say?"

Three's expression relaxed as he took the card, but then he threw it on the ground and stomped on it as hard as he could.

"Oh my god." Boopkins replied in shock. Nobody expected that, even though Three always acted like a jerk to them. He wiped the glitter off his face while making it perfectly clear to them (for the millionth time) that he would never attend one of these stupid parties.

"I wouldn't be caught dead at your party, but you will be. Caught and dead."

Suddenly, another troll came down from the sky with a more relaxed tone.

"Whoa whoa. Let's calm down here Three."

Tag6 hopped off a firefly that was carrying her, and embraced the sweet bug. "Thank you for my safe passage here. Goodbye." She waved farewell as the firefly flew off. Now let's clear things up shall we. She turned back to Three and said "Okay, first of all, thanks for sharing your unique perspective of things...again."

Mario and Meggy snickered a little as they exchanged glances with each other.

"But just for now, why don't you try a little positivity okay?"

Three sneered at the sweet, polite troll. He always had a grievance with her as she always seemed way too friendly with the other trolls. Not only that, but Four kind of seemed to like her and that only deepened There's hatred. He always tried to tell himself "Why should I care. It's not like I'm jealous or anything." Despite that, something bugged him about seeing those two get closer together.

"Okay fine. I'm positive that you all are going to get eaten."

A glint sound of chimes began to ring as it turned out that their hug time bracelets were going off. "Hug time!" They all squeezed together to include everyone, including Three. He tried to squirm his way out when Luigi wrapped his arms around him. That was the last straw. He pushed out and said to Four "Someday, when the bergens find us and the survival of every troll is in your hands, I sure hope the answer is singing, dancing, and hugging because that's all you know how to do!"

Mario tried to stand up for his friend as he shot back "That's not true! Smg4 can also make memes!"

Three looked angrily into Four's eyes and said one last thing that really hurt his feelings.

"I can't believe you're going to be king one day."

He then walked off with a bunch of sticks that he had collected for his evil villain lair of protection. Four sighed glumly as Tag6 went over to comfort him.

"Don't listen to him. He's just mean and toxic. Some of us just don't want to be happy."

"...I guess."

"You guessed right. Boop."

Tag6 booped his nose as Four smiled and they all went off to get ready for the party. Little did they know, a fearsome foe would soon make his arrival.

Chapter 2: An Unwanted Visitor

[misschinablue]

i'm so disgusted with a certain subset of british society.

what's being lost here is that three little girls - children with ages in the single fucking digits - are dead because of a sick individual who was born in cardiff and happens to be of rwandan descent.

which is entirely irrelevant. what is relevant is the southport stabbing was an attack on - very, very specifically - children.

the quiet part that's not being said out loud is that it was primarily an attack on female children.

but that gets lost, doesn't it?

it gets lost when someone decides that this welsh born man is a Muslim immigrant (which is untrue but still irrelevant even if he was). it gets lost when blatant disinformation is being spread by many many dodgy sources but dave the gammon willfully decides to take it as gospel anyway. it gets lost even when the suspect's name and identifying information is released, despite him being a minor, in the public interest, to stop this misinformation being spread.

it gets lost when dave the gammon has an "excuse" to take to the streets. it gets lost when dave the gammon starts parroting "stop the boats" (he doesn't know what it means) and "we want our country back" (because this ailing island belongs to him personally). it gets lost when dave the gammon gets to unleas all that misplaced and hatred fuelled anger by throwing a brick at a mosque or two. because in dave the gammon's mind - something's given him an excuse to tell us who he is.

it's given him an excuse to attack the Muslim community who are just trying to live their lives. to attack the refugees who are escaping horrors that dave the gammon is lucky enough to never be able to imagine.

how the FUCK are we twisting this violent, senseless and misogynistic act to make it about immigration?? how the FUCK can these people be so cruel to the families left behind who are going through unimaginable pain already?

how the FUCK has it come to this?

violence against women and girls has - finally - been declared a national emergency in the uk. i don't see any of these "protestors" even acknowledging that. i didn't see anyone rioting last month after the bushey attack which was fucking horrific. because the perpetrator was a white british man perhaps?

were there violent riots when white british incel jake davison killed five people including his own mother and a three year old girl in 2021?

dave the gammon doesn't care about the female victims of violence in this country. he "wants his country back." he wants the "foreigners to stop taking our jobs." he kisses his posters of nigel farage and andrew tate every night with tongue.

dave the gammon catcalls women on the streets. dave the gammon asks what she was wearing. dave the gammon finds rape jokes hilarious. dave the gammon asks what she did to deserve it.

dave the gammon drives all the hatred in this country. towards refugees. towards the Muslim community. towards women.

dave the gammon can't see that he's the problem.

of course we should be angry. but that anger needs to be directed at a society that enables and permits hatred and violence towards women and girls. towards refugees and immigrants. towards ethnic and religious minorities. towards sexual and gender minorities.

i am angry. i have never been so angry in my life. you should be too.

RIP Elsie Dot Stancombe, Bebe King and Alice Dasilva Aguiar. please don't forget the names of these innocent little girls in all of this.

[tipsyscone]

for the dbd ask game: 2, 14, 21 ♡

2 - fave episode

Oh boy, probably episode 7! It has so many interesting character beats to me, and I get too distracted watching it when I have Dead Boys going in the background. To start with, I love Crystal's storyline starting with her being so adamant to also go to hell to save Edwin. We all know that their relationship has gotten off to a rocky start and I feel this really solidifies her care for Edwin and shows they have their own friendship outside of Charles. She is so worried about not knowing who she is that I feel she has failed to noticed she has already made her own found family.

The scenes with Niko and the Night Nurse really showcases Niko missing her dad and is another of great addition to the episode. For me it's the only explanation of why the group didn't wonder why Niko wasnt a ghost- she obviously passed on to be with her father, right? (Truly heartbreaking to me that they don't even know to look for her at this point.)

George Rexstrew's performance this whole episode is superb imo. The scene with Simon is so heartbreaking (shout out to Gabriel Drake!) and really hit me in the queer feels. I feel like many queer people have had that feeling when we are younger of being wrong, and to have these two boys help each other to move on healed something in me. Follow this up with THE STAIRCASE- the way Edwin's breath catches as he confesses and the fragile look on his face; the collar bone touch from Charles gets me every time. And I'm so thankful for Charles response. Payneland until I die, but it is perhaps the only pair I ship that if it stayed a QPR I would still be okay with it.

14 - plotline you would put into S2/any future season

I really want to see more Edwin and Crystal friendship and for them to pair up on a case together next season! I think it was an unappreciated duo and I would love to get to see them be mean girls together. I think they would be iconic verbally ripping apart a rude client.

I also need Monty to return asap. That poor little crow boy deserves another chance and I'm heartbroken that they just left him in that house. I hope he somehow becomes besties with Jenny- a crow and a goth together at last. I would also love if somehow Monty and the Cat King both came to London as a duo if we are to get cameos. It could work so well for them to have bonded in the absence of the other characters and now they need the dbda to take a case for them.

It would make my little heart so happy for Monty to get any happy ending but I hope he gets a boyfriend please and thank you.

21 - something in the show that made you happy

I really appreciate that the show made women fully fleshed out characters. It would have been easy for them to have Niko be the positive attitude character, but I think we can all relate to her a lot more knowing she struggles with fitting in and is dealing with the loss of a loved one. Jenny could have been all about the pithy oneliners, but instead we found out about her having to learn a business that was left to her by her father and her struggles to find people to connect to. Even the Night Nurse goes on a journey to learn empathy for humans. Truly a shout out to all the woman writers, actors and crew on this show for having such nuanced characters when other supernatural shows in the past haven't bothered.

Also I really love Kingham and Litty and I hope they stick around for awhile next season so I can enjoy more of their savagery. And maybe they can learn to not be dicks ❤️

Thanks for thinking of me @plutosheaven! I'm usually just the one screaming in the reblogs of everyone else's posts, but I want all of the artist and writers in the fandom to know I appreciate you and you're amazing!

[asa-do-your-thing]

Headaches

aegon x f!reader

fluff / cockiness / aegon will be aegon / Aaaaaand smut of course. Minors DNI, as usual.

"There she is, the greatest maid of all time." Aegon was, regrettably, in a feisty mood this evening. You were Helaena's closest lady in waiting so him calling you 'maid' was a bit humiliating.

Rolling your eyes, you poured him some more wine and sat down on the edge of his bed, kicking off your ornately embroidered slippers. You knew exactly why he had asked for you to tend to his 'headache' instead of a maester. "What an honour, my Prince. I had almost thought you would call me a whore after all of our drunken ... encounters."

Grinning, he lifted his chalice and winked. "Well, you'd be a whore if I paid you." Shaking your head, you reached for your own glass of wine and took a big gulp. "Can we just change the subject, please." Resignation tainted your otherwise cheerful voice. "I'd do anything for you, Aegon. Don't... Please don't show me that you only feel lust when you see me."

Raising a silver eyebrow, he finished his cup and sauntered over to you, nonchalantly pushing you onto his bed. "That is for me to decide, my beauty", he growled and pushed up your nightgown. Heat rose into your cheeks. Was that the wine or the fact that you actually enjoyed getting absolutely ripped to pieces by him?

He tucked his unkempt hair behind his ears and, as if to check if everything was still in place, pinched your nipple. Your little shriek made him chuckle and to your utmost surprise, he fell onto his knees and pulled your hips up to the edge of the bed.

"You're soaking wet", he whispered and gently kissed your thighs. "Everything... for... you...", You managed to stutter, fisting the sheets beneath you. He was unusually gentle and astonishingly, he actually played with you, instead of just drunkenly hammering his seed into your cunt.

"You know,", he said quietly, his finger circling your clit, " I was wrong to call you a whore. Or a maid." You gulped, trying your hardest not to make a sound. On the one hand you already felt as though you could cum in any second and on the other it was rare that he would talk to you without both of you being paralyzed by your drinks.

"You are the best mistress one could have", he breathed out, licking your juice off his finger and pulling of his pants. You nervously looked at him, trying your hardest not to pull him down on top of you. "I... Thank you, Aegon." He placed a finger over your lips and positioned his cock, pushing it gently into you.

Smiling at your flustered, blushing face, he gave you a small kiss on the cheek. "Let me show you how you deserve to be fucked", he mumbled against your burning skin and gave you the softest thrusts. It felt magical and you gave him a small smile in between your moans. He didn't slap you or fold you in an awkward position, he didn't ask you to swallow his spit - he just gently made love to you until he grunted and collapsed on top of your twitching body.

Clinging to each other, it felt like half an eternity had passed before he cleared his throat. "Why do you do what you do? Is it because Mother asked you to do so?", He whispered in your ear. You furrowed your brows. "Aegon, whatever do you mean?" He shakily pushed himself up and gave you a sad look. "You listen to me. You make sure that I know that you are there for me simply as Aegon, and not as the future King. You... You make me feel loved and accepted."

Without a second thought, you gently put a hand on the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss. "Because I care for you. I love you, Aegon." Smiling, he pecked your head and pushed himself up, quickly picking up his pants. "So, mistress it is then. Mistress, fill up my chalice please, I think I am getting sober again."