#alice can write

[aliceinxreaderhell]

Drabble

Thinking about Soap and reader who are just brats with too much energy. And Ghost grabbing you like grabbing the scruff on a kitten. And dom ghost

Nsfw, including porn and alcohol ghoap x fem!reader

You've been saying Soap for a while now and it's great, you love him. And he comes home great, well as great as he can be after missions. But he's more focused he can pay attention more, then time goes on and you two just are brats to each other.

You start worry about an incompatibility between the two of you. Sex is great, but intense. And it's just so much for the two of you, it dwindles the longer he's on leave.

But then you meet his team, specifically he lieutenant. The meeting fun, some bar, booze is flowing and the Captain is covering the bill. Win-win situation.

But you start to notice little things as the night goes on. Johnny starts to bounce off the walls but Ghost steps in and tells him to settle. It's demanding, not harsh. Put him in his place.

He's good at it. You've never seen Johnny stop so fast.

Dom energy, you think. You move your glass to your lips, trying to hide your chuckle.

"What's so funny Bonnie?" You boyfriend asks.

"Don't worry about it" you smile.

You glance over to Ghost. With the mask you barely see his face. But it's undeniable the look he give you.

Behave, don't be cheeky.

It's so hard not too.

So you don't. Too many drinks have passed and your bolder. Attached to Johnny a little bit more, lips a bit looser few more swears few more innuendos.

Johnny and you stagger home. Ghost- no, Simon behind to make sure you don't fall into a river or blow something up.

Simon forces the two of you to the couch. He hands both of you waters to attempt to sober you up.

"Drink." He says, "don't spill anythin' and make a mess"

He's standing behind the couch, practically looming over the two of you. You can't tell if he's annoyed or amused taking care of you.

It's bad, it's makes you so wet how he commands. Your too drunk to even realize what your body is reacting to.

"Don' worry, I can't make a mess, I only know how to swallow," you wink at him as Johnny laughs, spitting his water all over himself.

"Well Johnny might need some practice, he's always been a messy eater." You laughing with him now.

He leans down, grabbing Johnny by the back of his Mohawk, pulling him back.

"Back home and at base huh? Always so fucking messy ain't you Johnny?" It's playful, dominate though, he's asking to be answered.

You know that look in Johnny's face. He's enjoying this. Even if he wants to deny it, the bulge in his pants won't help his case.

You thank whatever God that's listening. You know sober you would have more question, be more apprehensive. But it's been a good night. So really, why stop?

You curl up onto Johnny's side. Giving him a small peck on his neck.

"He's very messy, I think he just needs some practice." He moans, loudly, as you place you hand over his clothed cock.

"Yeah? Wanna practice on your little birdy, show me how you clean up?" He hand slides from the back of his neck to his throat, not loosing eye contact.

You can't help yourself, desperate for more of anything you start to undo his pants, pulling his aching cock out.

"Oh? Maybe little birdy wants to show me how much of a mess you'll make?" You could hear the smirk in his voice. "You want em' too? You'll have to ask."

You move down, desperately wanting to suck off Johnny. But Simon catches you by the back of you neck before you can get far.

"Johnny, ask nicely." You love hearing him being put into place.

Your head feels so nice and fuzzy. In part of the alcohol and the other part of you slipping into a sub space.

God you want to hear him beg.

"Tell er' you want your dick sucked til you cum, baby" you hope this night never ends.

"S-suck me off birdie" His voice already sounded so good to your ears, begging though? Like angels have blessed your house.

Simon pulls your head up to face him.

"Boy's being good, get on your knees."

~~

Oops wrote this at work, idk where this came from lmk if you want more

[tomahachi12]

Meet the Doormans!

see I'm working on AU stuff lol

still no name for it though, but I'll figure that out eventually

Info about them down belooooow

Cyn "Cynthia" Swapped with - Uzi Age - 18 She was 6 years old when her mom died and the trauma from the event caused her to shut down and stop talking. She learned sign language from Noah so she could communicate. For anyone else that doesn't understand her, she'll either use text on her visor or a projected text box. She doesn't interact with anyone and prefers to keep to herself, the only one she really opens up to is her brother. He's the only one who can call her by her actual name, she'll ignore everyone else. Inherited her solver from her mom, which activated after her mom's passing. She's scared of Khan.

Noah Swapped with - No one! Rewritten for story Age 25 7 years older than Cyn. He was 13 when his mom died. No one knows why he's so tall. He took care of Cyn after their mother died. He learned sign language and taught it to Cyn. He's a member of the Worker Defense Force. Loves doing anything! boi stop hiding your pain and get help He wants his dad's approval, not only for himself, but for his sister as well. Does not have the Solver at least not yet

Khan Swapped with - No one! Rewritten for story. Leader of the Worker Defense Force and Outpost 3. Very stoic and closed off, especially after Alice died. After his wife died, he completely threw himself into his work, neglecting nearly everything else (including his kids ): ) Because of Cyn's strong resemblance to Alice, he can't bear to even look at her. He killed his wife.

Alice Swapped with - Nori Huge fukin nerd. Western movies were her favorite. Her pet-name for Khan was "Sheriff" She loved to play "dress up" especially with her kids. She was still part of the Solver Experiments, but did not cause the implosion, that was still Nori's doing. She had pretty bad Solver Moment when it took her over and she slaughtered an entire apartment block. She couldn't stop herself and begged Khan to kill her. She was 33 when she died.

[bbygirl-aemond]

Aegon was the son Viserys always wanted, the son he slaughtered one woman and raped another for, the son he neglected his daughter for. And yet he did not love him.

Helaena was the dragon dreamer Viserys had always hoped to be, the holder of the Valyrian magic he so revered. And yet he did not love her.

Aemond was the lover of dragons, the eager student of history, the kindred spirit Viserys was never able to find in court. And yet he did not love him.

I will rage forever at how much Viserys should have loved these kids. He should have loved them so fucking much. Every single one of them embodied one of his deepest hopes and dreams. And yet he spent the rest of his miserable life punishing them for his own goddamn decision to bring them into this world.

[hezekiahwakely]

Now that Alice has had her own traumatic supernatural experience, maybe Gwen can return the favor and show her some small act of kindness to comfort her, which would serve as a narrative parallel and also push the two of them closer together so they can realize that maybe they have more in common than they originally thought and then they start to team up and trust each other despite their remaining deep 'dislike' for each other and

[sunfyrisms]

me personally i will never forget how rhaenys called out alicent for subjecting herself to the will of men. supposedly. and i say supposedly because she did the exact same thing! she was willing to give her twelve year old daughter to her much older cousin because her husband demanded it. she let her son, her only living child, marry into house targaryen, knowing how dangerous it was (it supposedly cost him his life). she supported rhaenyra’s claim in honor of her husband, while under the impression that rhaenyra had a hand in said son’s death (and her anger about it is just never bought up? to rhaenyra nor daemon). her husband constantly overstepped himself and was willing to do anything to get more power (including essentially leaving his children to the wolves), while justifying it as him wanting to avenge rhaenys’ claim. while rhaenys herself made peace with the crown being passed over her!

her, of all people, telling alicent (who was a child bride whose children through marital rape) literally anything about the topic is so hypocritical and weird. but it’s not meant to be hypocritical and weird. it’s meant to be this girlboss, feminist moment that fans, for some reason, gladly ate up without thinking about it for more than a second. it didn’t make sense for rhaenys’ character but the writers didn’t care. in that moment, she was nothing more than a self-insert for the writers to loudly and annoyingly voice their personal opinions into the show.

it’s so fucking weird and i haven’t liked rhaenys since. you deserve better writing girl.

[lavenderfables]

Sudden bursts of creativity smothered by persistent exhaustion. My real nemesis tbh.

[meanqueens]

thinking about how "History will paint you a villain. A cold queen... grasping for power, and then defeated." could be considered rhænyra threatening alicent that she will control how history remembers her and make sure it won’t be good. alicent once again having no agency over her own life. alicent just goes along with it, because this isn’t anything new.

[comradekarin]

the consistent “peacekeeper cheerleaders” narrative for characters like rhaenyra, alicent, helaena, rhaenys and baela is not actually good writing, nor is it actually indicative of their relationships with one another, it’s just soft misogyny. the female characters in this show are being failed, and I’m tired of pretending they aren’t

[just-a-multi-fandom-mess]

alice daisy tonner has always found pack to be the most important thing. her various definitions of "pack" have changed over the years, but really, "people who are like me" has always been at the center of it.

first there had been calvin. he was pack before she even knew what that was, the only friend either of them had. back then, she'd thought that pack was people who were together against the world, even when the world is against them too. calvin and daisy (although she was still just alice back then) had stuck to this until she'd failed to protect him, then he'd changed, then she'd changed, and then he wasn't pack anymore.

she didn't have any pack for a long while after she'd killed calvin.

later, with the police, there was basira. basira was tough, and daisy liked how she could see what to do next in any situation, liked the way she could see how to hunt the next target, liked that she could see ways to stop everyone else knowing what daisy did to the people who'd done wrong. daisy liked a lot about basira. basira seemed to like daisy, too, but she didn't show it much, so it was a bit hard to be sure. most of the time, they were happy as hunting partners, and that's what really mattered. when she was with basira, daisy felt like pack was people who know each other to the deepest depths of each of their hearts. sometimes, though, it felt like basira knew too much, and daisy nowhere near enough.

basira was pack for a long time. still is, really. they'd been closer in the past, but since the coffin she's seemed distant to daisy. daisy's been distant too, so she can't really blame her very much. she's still pack though, probably, even if daisy isn't quite sure that they knew each other all that well in the first place.

even though daisy and basira have been distant since the coffin, jon has always been right there. she hadn't thought of him as pack when they first met, quite the opposite. she'd thought of him as prey. still, he'd trusted her, and he'd pulled her out of that horrible crushing hellscape which had held her captive for those eight long months. she is grateful for that, grateful to have someone who trusts her, who knows what the prison of crushing earth had been like, who feels the same hunger as her and who could help her resist.

she knows now that thinking of him as pack is dangerous, that by defining her relationships that way can only lead her further into the crushing jaws of the hunt. nevertheless (his fancy talk is even starting to rub off on her), she can't help but count him as one of her own. that's what pack is, she thinks, people who understand each other's struggles and can be together in pain.

jon talks about martin, sometimes. as they help tease out the knots in each other's hair, constantly matted due to never taking care of themselves, he tells her stories of when they were first in the archives. sometimes he can't think of anything good to say, and daisy puts the archers on for them to listen to before he starts to spiral into self loathing again. even through all of jon's stories, daisy never talks about basira. it feels rude, seeing as she's right there, and besides; they don't have as many good memories as daisy always thinks they do.

sometimes they don't talk, don't listen to anything, don't do much at all. they just lie on the floor curled up together, in the middle of jon's office, trying to stave off the hunger. being together helps. basira doesn't really like it when they do that, says they aren't being "useful" enough, but daisy just gives her a look, and she leaves them alone.

she's not exactly happy, but anything is better than how it used to be. jon knows her, probably even Knows her, and she knows him. they understand each other. it's just them against the world now. she is someone who is like him, and he is someone who is like her. it's nice. it's pack.

[jubshead]

Okay, this is for the Lilia and Patti stan's;

What kind of kinks do you guys want to read with Lilia??

I’m about to start the Lilia x Reader I promised and I want to know what would you guys like

Also, if you don't want to comment your kinks, but still want to answer, just send me an anonymous ask!!

[aegonomics]

I FOUND MYSELF THINKING OF YOUR OWN MOTHER TODAY.

[silver-dragonborn]

"B-but Aegon would never treat his brother like that! He would never do something like this!"

No.

Aegon II has already done something like this and will continue to do something like this because he can. Now that he has a crown on his fat fucking head, he will resume his torment of Aemond because now that he's the most powerful man in Westeros, no one, not even Saint Alicent, can stop him from torturing his family and exposing their humiliations to outsiders like his frat house Kingsguard.

[hiseverywish]

begging every Armand Is Alice truther to convince me of this theory with their best points. they don’t even have to be canon, as i am easily swayed. just make it click for me somehow ❤️

[bisexualcherdegre]

D:BH Rarepairsweek 7 | @dbhrarepairs

Day 1 - North/Kara

[hearteyedfeelings]

fix-it fic writers we need you now more than ever, give us a Nyra running away with Alicent longfic slow burn of them on their journey to wherever they’re gonna go all while hashing out their hurt and then finally becoming lovers

a classic friends to enemies to sorta friends to lovers if you will

[heartstringsbloom]

Hear me out

Lightning McQueen of Hearts

I’m about to get a little fantastical with this

Willy’s Butte is known for its desert sands. It’s also home to tulips and cacti. One should always be careful. What it isn’t known for is mysterious roses popping up on the edges of those cacti. The single bloom is so brightly red it’s almost cartoony, or so Lightning thinks as he drops into the patch for a closer look. His recent obsession with flowers only fuels his curiosity, but it’s almost as if he couldn’t look away if he tried. He doesn’t remember if he tried . . .

It’s velvety to the touch. Surprisingly thick and strong. Light plucks it, careful of the cacti surrounding, though his finger slips either way. A thorn?

Ow.

Suddenly the world dips. His vision wavers, swims. He doesn’t feel himself fall, thankfully doesn’t feel the cactus needles, because he’s out before they touch him.

He’s waking up, someone says.

He blinks himself to consciousness. It’s not the first time he’s woken up in Doc’s clinic. Usually he remembers why, though.

Bluer-than-the-ocean pours into his field of vision. Sally cups his face. Something worries her. Light reaches out to return the gesture, even brush some blue behind her ear, but he freezes as soon as his fingers reach her.

Thorns.

His arm is covered in them. Jagged, winding vines that curl up and around his forearm and wrist. Black, red markings. Covered in thorns.

Sally follows his gaze and presses her lips together. They had noticed, she says.

Then she hands him her mirror.

Oh.

Where strawberry-dusted gold had been, there now was a deep red. Rose red. As if someone had bled all over his scalp and it painted down the rest of his hair. The thorny vines have curled up his jaw and around his eyes like the memory of some weird, tattooed mask. Barely there yet unforgettable.

He can’t take his eyes off of his reflection. Sally rubs his back soothingly.

They both turn when the door opens and in steps Doc, who’s scrutinizing a file as if it’ll confess that it’s been in the cookie jar.

He can’t make heads or tails of the situation. Mcqueen’s vitals are fine, though his heart is a little more active. His pupils are blown, too, and—Doc lets out a laugh of disbelief. Maybe anxiety.

What? Lightning grips the medical bed.

Didn’t you see the hearts?

Sally holds the mirror in front of him.

Oh.

Centered in his dilated pupils was a matching set of small, red hearts.

A sudden wave of emotions runs through him, twisting around his veins and lighting up his heart. Everything burns and everything sings. He wants to scream and he wants to smile. Nothing makes sense.

He feels mad (he feels mad). In the frenzy of his heart he remembers, all of a sudden.

Through his teeth he asks about the rose. He thinks it was painted red. He wants to play croquet. (He wants to play croquet?).

He only asks about the rose. Neither of the other two can tell him where it even came from. Roses show up in the desert sometimes, but never have they seen one on a cactus.

He hadn’t known better. He wouldn’t have touched it, had he known the outcome. His nails bite into the leather bed, and it’s as if his touch itself contains a dozen thorns.

He didn’t mean to tear it. What’s gotten into him?

He sways on his feet as Sally helps him down, Doc’s advice of plenty rest and maybe some water following them out the door. He stumbles but Sally rights him every time.

He feels like he’s losing his head. He feels . . .

He’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

(He dreams of half-painted roses and croquet gardens).

Eep.