#always eating and not understanding my surroundings

[serendipitous-imagines]

Can you do a Homicipher Mr Gap x transmasc reader smut fic? Maybe w him eating the reader out? Perhaps?

cws/tws: female genitalia verbiage, oral, fingering, begging, edging

omg,,, my first homicipher request!! i have been so in love with all of the characters in this game and it has been so fun playing through all of the routes! i do get easily jumpscared bc i am a coward but hey, fear and adrenaline adds to emotions I am pretty sure ;> as always~ the fun stuff is under the cut~

Where were you again...? Oh, right, you were stuck down here, running around mindlessly, looking for an elevator that may or may not bring you back to your world... And everyone surrounding you was a creature that was almost beyond human comprehension. But... they were kind, kinder than anyone had ever really been to you, and they cared, they cared so much about you, about how you felt, about how your body ached and reacted. Sure, it could have been because they wanted to do experiments on you, maybe even take your arms, but it being cared for like this felt so nice. Honestly, it would be a waste to leave everyone down here. How would you even live life normally again after meeting everyone? A soft groan escaped your lips as you rolled over on the bed, flopping your head down into the pillow that had definitely been untouched for a while, but it was better than laying on the ground. You could not imagine how it felt for Mr. Chopped- where even was he? Where was anyone? The room suddenly felt far more cold and empty than it had before. Anxiety crept into your chest and in an attempt to comfort yourself, you pulled the white blanket up to your head, wanting to hide from the vast empty echoes of the labyrinth where you found yourself confined. ... Why did it feel like you were being watched...? Lifting the sheet up hesitantly, you tilted your head downwards, unknowingly holding your breath as you glanced down at your legs. Nothing... You set the sheet down and let out the breath you had been holding, looking around the room. You were just being paranoid because you were alone, there was nothing to worry about, you were sure Mr. Crawling would be around at any moment and you would feel better. Shaking your head, you lifted the sheets to lay back down and- "AHHHH!!!!" Your whole body jumped, a scream involuntarily coming out, legs pressing together as you made eye contact with Mr. Gap smiling up at you from under the covers. "When did you get here?!" you yelled, fingers trembling as you held the sheets up, eyes wide.

"I help..." Mr. Gap mumbled, a smile on his face, his visible eye upturned with small crinkles in the corners of them. "Is there a reason why you are smiling so hard?" you asked, a smile on your face, wondering what organ or part of your body he was going to ask to take. Mr. Gap tilted his head, not understanding your question, his smile still ever-so-prevalent. "Give?" he asked. "Me want have." Mr. Gap repeated, his voice a little more firm. You could feel his warm breath hitting the insides of your thighs, goosebumps appearing on your skin from the warmth in the cold room. "Want what?" you asked, thighs shifting to close from the embarrassment of Mr. Gap's head being so close to such intimate areas. "Want you." Strong hands wrapped themselves around the inside of your thighs, pinning them open despite your attempts to force them closed. "M-me?!" your voice squeaked in surprise as your pants were ripped clear off of your legs. Mr. Gap's face leaned forward, huffing your scent, his fingers digging deeper into the squishy flesh of your thighs. "Smell good. Smell like. Want. Want. Want." Mr. Gap repeated, massaging your thighs in his palms obsessively, his words melting into mere mumbles as his teeth caught the fabric of your underwear, ripping them off (though you were unsure if he ate them or dropped them onto the bed, they were destroyed anyways). "Mr. Gap..." a breathless mutter came from your lips as Mr. Gap's mouth wrapped around your pussy, his tongue frotting against your clit. Your hips lifted at the sensation, a small whine leaving your lips as Mr. Gap's tongue started to speed up, greedily lapping up the arousal that started to drip from your vagina. How did he even know how to do this? Your hand slid beneath the sheets, wrapping your fingers around his hair as his tongue buried itself inside of your pussy, rubbing against your insides, easily gliding around in your arousal. Mr. Gap let out a low groan, a noise you had never heard him make before as his hand slid up your thigh before hovering just below his chin. His lips wrapped themselves hungrily around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves as two of his fingers circled around your soaked and sensitive entrance. A moan of pure desperation and a need like none other you have felt before came from your agape mouth, tugging on Mr. Gap's long hair, which had started to become knotted between your fingers. Your gazes caught one another, and you could see and feel his smile get wider before he sunk his fingers without warning into you. Your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, walls clenching around Mr. Gap's unforgiving fingers that slid deep inside like he was going to pull your internal organs out from you. Your hips rocked, riding his fingers as his tongue pressed against your clit, flicking up and down as he sucked. Those calloused fingers provided a much needed texture, curling inside of you and forcing your walls wider open. Hearing such beautiful mewls coming from you, and feeling your hips starting to tremble, closing in on your orgasm, Mr. Gap cruelly slid his slick-covered digits out of your pussy, rubbing your hole as you gasped and looked at him with eyes that could only be described as downright pathetic. In an action even more cruel, he pulled his mouth away from your swollen and throbbing clit. Your head lifted, your eyes wide in surprise as he rested his head on your thigh and just smiled at you, a taunting, cruel smile. "You know exactly what you are doing..." you whined out, rolling your hips towards his face. "Me funny." "No," you retorted back with a pout on your lips. Mr. Gap laughed, fingers still mindlessly rubbing your opening, which was now soaking the sheets beneath you. "Me funny. You cute." Mr. Gap looked up at your face, which was twinged pink before he pushed three of his fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out of your hole far rougher than he had before. At full force, your orgasm hit your body at full force, crying out Mr. Gap's name as your cum squirted into his mouth and he greedily swallowed it.

FANDOMS ~ MASTERLIST ~ COMMISSIONS ~ REQUESTS

[butterfliesinthestorm]

I never expected to grieve this much when one of my cats died. I knew it would hurt, but not to this extent. It's been seven weeks now, and I have been crying every three days.

Skye came to us unexpectedly. She was an outdoor cat when we adopted her, already two or three years old. My son called one day and asked if I could take her in. His friend's family, who had raised her from birth, could no longer keep her and planned to rehome her. When she arrived, she made the most sorrowful sounds for the first two weeks, as if she were in pain. It broke my heart because I knew she was just confused, trying to understand her new surroundings.

We did everything we could to help her adjust, and she didn’t seem to mind our other cat—maybe their presence brought her some comfort. Skye was a beautiful, plump tortoiseshell with striking green eyes. She hated being picked up and growled whenever we tried, but she loved being petted and groomed. Often, she’d lie on her back, watching us from the floor, her green eyes following us as we moved around. My daughter even taught her to sit on command and give paw-fives when she wanted a treat.

What Skye loved most in life were simple joys: eating and being outdoors.

Her Happy Place

When we lived in an apartment on the second floor, she had to settle for the balcony. It wasn’t the same as the freedom of being outdoors, but it seemed to work for her. Our view of the woods gave her something to watch, especially at night. She’d meow to go out as the sun set and stay there until dawn. I’d check on her multiple times during the night and find her sitting regally, one paw over the other, gazing out into the trees.

Years later, when we moved to a townhouse with a fenced-in yard, it felt like we’d given her a piece of her old life back. At first, I worried she’d try to escape, so I put a tracker on her collar. But she never jumped the fence. Instead, she delighted in running through the grass, half-heartedly chasing squirrels and birds—never fast enough to catch them. Mostly, she’d perch on the picnic table, quietly observing. It was her happy place.

Skye didn’t like coming inside, but when extreme heat or cold rolled in, I’d insist. She’d protest with growls and the occasional spray to mark her displeasure. I learned to let her come in on her terms, except during storms or unbearable weather.

At night, I’d look out the window before bed and see her sitting on the table under the moonlight. I don’t know what she was watching, but whatever it was, it brought her peace.

The Final Week

The week before she disappeared, Skye started doing something odd. She began meowing to come inside on her own, something she rarely did. For four nights in a row, she came in around 10 p.m., laying at the foot of my bed or nudging my hand for head rubs. After an hour or two, she’d meow to be let out again.

The last time I saw her alive was early in the morning. I looked out at the yard around 5 a.m. and saw her sitting on the table, as usual. Something about it felt bittersweet. She seemed so alone, yet content. I went outside, called her name, and she turned to me, meowing softly. She blinked slowly, then turned back to face the trees. I sighed and went back inside, not knowing it would be the last time.

Goodbye, Skye

By 8 a.m., Skye was gone. Her tracker showed movement across the street, but despite following the signal and hearing the familiar tune it played, we couldn’t reach her. She moved from bush to bush, evading us for hours. It wasn’t until the next day that I finally found her in a wooded area, lying under a tree.

She looked so peaceful, resting her head on her paws in that regal way she always did. But she was gone.

The vet confirmed there was no sign of illness or injury—she simply went to sleep and didn’t wake up. In her final days, Skye had said goodbye in her own way. She came inside, seeking comfort, before wandering off to pass in the quiet solitude of nature.

Grieving a Family Member

We had Skye for eight wonderful years, and I pray we gave her the best life we could. But it still breaks my heart that she was alone at the end. I know some cats instinctively seek privacy when it’s their time, but that knowledge doesn’t ease the pain.

She wasn’t just a pet; she was family. And now, there’s an emptiness in our home and hearts that can’t be filled. I hold onto the hope that there’s a special place for pets in heaven—a place where sunlight, birds, and trees surround Skye forever.

She was so much more than a cat. She was my companion, my comfort, and my joy. Skye, you are loved and missed dearly.

Closing Reflection

Losing a pet is losing a part of your family, your routine, and your heart. Grief for them is real and valid, and it doesn’t follow a timeline. If you’ve experienced the loss of a pet, know that you’re not alone. Your love for them honors their memory, and it’s okay to cry, to miss them, and to remember them in everything you do.

In time, we learn to carry them with us, in the quiet moments and the cherished memories. For now, I carry Skye in my heart, hoping she’s at peace, just as she brought peace to me.

[hoonclub]

[flowers-and-pollen]

Sometimes i forget how beautiful the place i live in really is. A few days ago i was walking back home through the shaded path and i looked back at the path and went 'wow' bc i was suddenly hit with realization that the place i live in is fucking beautiful and i never want to forget that

(You can see a bit of my house's green fence on the right side of the photo)

honestly the human brain is so small that you *will* forget how much beauty there is out there to experience unless you leave your house every three days. ik its fucked up but i promise its true

[ramonathinks]

Fuck it, Guess We Both Ain't Shit — GOJO

summary: as meg said, “quit asking when imma leave my n*gga, knowin’ you still with your bitch”

cw// 18+, MDNI cheating, sex, fingering, oral, risky sex, geto slander, squirting, choking, slight impact play, sappy moments,

tagging -> @satorubi @sunasbon haha. dividers by @/cafekitsune word counter: 1.1k just a little thirst/drabble :p

“he’s your best friend” this was a conversation almost twice a week, with him on his knees looking right at your puffy clit, spreading your legs wide enough so he can fit through, though just barely.

“and she’s your roommate” he huffs out a laugh, kissing the bud and you flinch back, legs trembling.

“ah– fuck… fuck you.” even with saying that, you open your legs more, waiting and wanting for him to have his fill of you. his fingers, his tongue, his cock was all you could think of most days and you hated yourself for it.

“me and suguru always loved to share our toys. but you just want me all to yourself right? only me, hm? so why not just break up with him?” gojo’s fingers are on your clit but they roam, teasing your slit — almost inside but steadily running up and down, your breathing hitched and shook as you spoke. 

“why not break up with her?” you counter, grinding your hips to his palm. you hated how he always made you fight to get a touch from him.

“nah baby, tell me… humor me? make me understand or I’ll stop,” he looks in your eyes, stares deep into them until all you can see is blue surrounding you. “i won’t let you cum.” he’s doing the thing now to tempt you…sliding his fingers inside, curves them just well enough that you can taste your orgasm and pull away.

“he’s just …” your throat closes up but he slows his pace, he wants to know the truth… the rivalry he and Suguru had was always different, something twisted in his head; best friends but deeper and worse. it wasn't hatred and it wasn't that he even wanted to be him, but he wanted everything that suguru had and it was torture... evident that he was still a child at heart. a selfish needy child.

“he can’t make me cum, okay? especially…” you’re gasping. “especially like you do, satoru. he’s not as big and he just doesn’t feel right… i..--”

he’s shoving his face into your pussy, slick and saliva sliding down his face as he eats you out. throwing your leg over his shoulder for a better taste. “actually, i don’t think i can wait any longer, need to be inside you.”  his shirt's on the floor and he's smiling at you, sliding the head of his cock around your slit.

"so why me over her?" you ask, gasping when he settles inside of you and he hisses feeling your tightness around him.

“this fucking cunt is the reason, so fucking pretty and perfect.” he says, with you squeezing him tight he feels like he’s going to cum, his cock twitching and your juices sliding down his length, sinking himself lower and fucking inside of you hard. you’re swatting his chest, overwhelmed at him hitting a particularly gooey part inside of you. “c’mon baby, i know you can take it for me. you always do, come on.” pressing his hand against your stomach to feel himself inside of you, you both smile. “fucking stuffing you, aren’t i?”

he sped up his pace, dragging himself in and out of your pussy so slow that it almost hurt whenever he slipped out and it made you wrap your legs around his waist and to hold him close against your chest. he slips out, slides in and his cock strokes your inner walls at a dangerous pace, his hand on your hip. he moves to kiss your lips and  you turn your head, away from him.

“still won’t let me kiss you? that’s too far for you, hm? can’t be cheating if i haven’t kissed those pretty lips, is that what you think?” he’s laughing and it makes your chest hurt a bit at how mean he’s being. “those pretty lips suck my cock and you dirty those knees for me, but can’t kiss me… scared you’ll fall deeper?” his thrusts are harder and deeper, you’re gasping until he wraps a hand around your throat. 

he slaps your throbbing cunt, once and watches the clear waterfall of your squirt drip like a faucet with a smirk, tapping the head of his cock on your slap, fascinated at how more comes out. there’s a smile on his lips as he fucks more of it out of you, rolling his hips enough that it angled his cock to a new position, the tip nudging that spot again and fucking it ever so slightly. your moans breathy and loud, as if you didn’t care who heard which made me laugh at you. 

you’re dizzy and your body is humming, your mind so light that your thoughts are clouded with fantasies that won’t come true; him taking care of you and providing, not even just sex but more… your heart is thumping with excitement and awe, a droopy smile touches your lips. “do you really want me?” you sound far away and muffled, your tongue heavy. “or am I just another conquest for you, sa–toru..”

he sounds close, you can feel his body radiating heat against yours, a laugh on the tip of his tongue: “i never wanted anyone as badly as i want you, suguru has good taste, but i plan on making you mine.” he kisses the palm of your hand, peppering kisses up your arm until he’s at your shoulder, licking up your collarbone. his lips graze yours but he pulls away. “will you let me kiss you this once?”

“just this once.”

neither of you hear the bedroom door open, neither of you realize suguru is there, standing there and looking until he laughs. “here i was trying to be a good boyfriend and bring your favorite snacks since you've been sad all week and here’s satoru, who comes to see you before he even announces that he made it back from his trip and…” he laughs again, throwing the food on the floor. “and, you were only this sad because he was gone so why am i surprised that you’re fucking him?”

“sug–” you didn’t mean to, honestly… you regret not ending things but regardless if you did, getting with satoru after being with suguru would only raise the same questions. 

“no.” he’s leaving, moving fast trying to get out of the door. 

“please, suguru just listen.” it’s satoru who’s talking now and for a moment he does stop, turns around and he scoffs.

“he’ll break you, you know that? like he does with all the girls he’s been with.” he’s talking to you, looking over satoru’s shoulder and looking you in your eyes with a deep look of disgust and disappointment. then he’s looking at satoru, “you make me sick.” he’s huffing away, slamming the door when he leaves.

the permanent weight in your chest subsides and a rush of happiness comes for a split second, you even see satoru’s shoulders slump.

 until your roommate comes in.

no part two.

[losersiren]

𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k 

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots. 

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ��Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.”  The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath. 

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.” 

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.” 

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough. 

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession. 

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable. 

 “Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that? 

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them. 

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.  

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires 

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back…he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that 

“Ambrose…” 

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.”  The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with. 

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.” 

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”  

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed. 

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh. 

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord. 

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible. 

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun  Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”  

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad. 

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

 “Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it. 

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to. 

 Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?  

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!! 

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 09

Jason the Toymaker x Female Reader - Cockwarming/Waxplay

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Creampie, vaginal, cockwarming, wax play, desperation, begging, wax dripping as a punishment, pain and pleasure, teasing, forced restraint, orgasm denial

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.7k

A/N: First time writing Jason!!! Ate him up fr

Jason was a very busy man.

His life was full of quick calculations and harrowing demands, unrest always eating away at him to finish whatever project he was up to.

His only relief? You, his perfect girl. In his eyes, you were chosen. His perfect playmate, his girl, exactly what he had been searching for.

You were hesitant at first, understandably so, but he brought out the best in you and coaxed out the reciprocated feelings he knew you had. It didn’t take long, the universe had already made up its mind: you were made for him. Jason spent all his time searching for the perfect playmate, testing so many girls that had let him down countless times, but you held. So, of course, being separated from you was incredibly difficult.

Running errands, collecting supplies, tidying his workspace- the redhead kept you by his side no matter what out of instinctual fear of losing you. Jason had searched his entire life for a girl like you, someone to be his perfect playmate; it would take hell or high water to get you away from him now.

So, of course, you were perched in his lap while he worked at his desk. Your head rested on his shoulder, body shifting and wrapping around him every time his hands moved to work on the tiny wax figurine he had in front of him. The fireplace was lit, fire crackling and popping in the brick hull, the lateness of the night surrounding you both in warmness. It would have been so wholesome, so comfortably domestic, if not for-

“Jason…”

The fiery redhead smiles.

“Yes, my lady?” He tries to hide the smirk in his voice, focusing on carving out the features of the doll he’s working on, the wax molding easily under his tools. You cling onto his back, nails digging into that pretty waistcoat he always wears, his muscled back sat straight as you tag at his white buttoned shirt. He can feel your thighs shake and tense as you try to adjust, to let some weight off of your knees as you straddle his lap. He knows you’re trying to be discreet, holding out the best you clench your gummy walls around him, a subtle hint. “What’s the matter, dear?”

“You know what…” You huff, burying your nose into the crook of his neck and taking deep, calculated breaths, trying to recenter yourself. Jason tilts his head, eyeing down at the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing that covers the pretty view of your body plastered against his. Maybe he likes to be a tease, to hear you say it instead of hiding your face in his neck.

You’ve both been here for about an hour, your body so heavy and tired from holding this position that you could cry. Every time you try to force yourself up, just enough to feel the swell of Jason’s cock nudge your insides, he grips your hips and holds you back in place. You try it again, rutting your ass just a little to nudge the divot of his cockhead against the swell of your cunt, but his low hum of warning stiffens you back against his chest.

Stupid doll, stupid Jason.

You’re nearly dizzy, your walls fluttering and clenching against him, but left unsatisfied altogether. “Are you done yet…? M’so tired…”

When he asked you to come sit with him while he finished working on his project, you didn’t expect to be hauled onto his lap with slacks unbuttoned and heavy cock lying against his hip so expectantly. You were giddy, placing your hands on his shoulders and slowly sinking down, but losing all of that excitement when he didn’t let you come up, holding you there as he began carving and smudging his metal tools on the toy.

That felt like forever ago now, your pussy gushing and twinging with need every time his length twitched with excitement.

“I’m nearly there, you’ll be alright for a little longer.” But you didn’t know if you would be, back aching and hips stuttering just to flinch upwards, knowing the movement would be useless. “Jason, please…”

The redhead huffs, setting his tools down and pressing back against the workbench chair, forcing you to sit up and look him in the eyes. The adjustment made you moan, his cock nudging just a little deeper inside, rubbing sweetly against that pocketed nerve. He rests his grimy hands on your hips, patting at your shaky thighs with an annoyed glare.

“My girl. You know you’ll get what you want, you just have to be patient.” He talks sternly, eyebrows furrowed just enough to make his harrowing green eyes bore into yours. You huff, trying your best to discreetly shift your legs a little wider to push him further to the hilt, rubbing against your g-spot.

Jason takes notice, snagging your upper thigh and holding you there as you groan, pleading with him. He lets out a hearty chuckle.

“Right. Seems we need a little incentive to stay still, huh?” Ruffling the bottom of your shirt up, Jason hauls the heavy fabric over your head, exposing the entirety of your naked body. You flush, embarrassed redness high on your cheekbones as he examines you. “Having a hard time listening today, dear?”

You shake your head, groaning a little when large hands press against your back to force you against his chest again, back into your original spot. You whine when his cock slips a little, tugging against your swelling entrance and beckoning for more. You stare into the fire behind you, the flames crackling and popping and warming your now exposed skin as you claw against his shirt.

You hear things shuffling, tools moving, and draws opening against his workbench, but you stay seated- defeated and all too pent up.

Until you hear the flicks of a lighter, the sparks snapping against the metal as Jason flicks a flame. You try to turn, to see what he’s doing, and his free hand presses you back firmly against him. “Jason?”

“Shhh, quiet, my dear.” Anxiety pools in your gut, unsure of what intentions he has as the lighter sounds extremely close to you and your bare skin.

“I want you to listen now, alright?” He cooes into your ear, widening his legs and shifting your weight a little as you nervously wait. You hear a subtle drip, drip, plopping against the wooden table behind you, the noise so ominous until you feel his arms press closer.

“Every time you move, try to sway those pretty little hips-” A sharp sting on your back has you jumping, clawing at his shoulders as the liquid- wax- runs down your exposed shoulders and onto your shoulder blades. “This’ll be your little punishment, alright?”

Another drop, then another trails onto your skin, hot stings of scalding wax dribbling and then hardening on reddened flesh. Jason has collected the excess wax from the doll he was working on, rolling it all together and holding the lighter underneath to melt the stuff right onto you. You shrieked, arching your back away from the sensation when you tried to flinch away again.

Until you sat still, forcing your chest against his, did he finally take the droplets away, setting the lighter back onto the workbench. “Good girl. See? You can listen.”

You panted into his neck, taking deep, settling breaths of his scent and centering yourself back. You didn't want to admit it, didn’t want to let him win over you- but as the wax dried and crusted onto your skin, you realized just how good it had felt.

After the initial shock, the initial wave of pain, the sting was euphoric and fun. You sat for a moment, contemplating just how serious he was as you felt him get back to work on his project. Did you dare?

But when you felt his hard cock twitch inside of you, flinching against your swollen walls, you knew you physically couldn’t restrain yourself any longer.

Pressing your hands against his chest, you dared to shift your hips, pressing your ass back far enough to shallowly ride him back and forth. Jason huffed, a tsk leaving his gritted teeth as you felt him reach for the lighter again, flicking the flame to life.

Before the first drop could even reach your skin, you shakily forced your hips up, snapping your ass back down with an obscene slap that echoed in the small workshop. Jason choked, your shrill moans as the wax dripped achingly slowly onto your bare shoulders, soaking their way down to your spine. You forced yourself back up, the redhead’s hands too occupied with the wax and lighter to force your hips still.

“Fuck- fuck, you little brat.” He groans, digging his heels into the floorboards as he tries to forcefully ignore the way his cock twitches and rings with excitement every time your ass makes contact with his bony hips. “I said-”

And then you’re sliding your hips up and down, snapping your ass back as you ride him with such depravity it leaves the redhead choking out a moan. He grits his teeth, wax sharply dropping lower and lower onto your back until the drops reach the plump curve of your ass, colorful liquid decorating your red skin. “S’too good, Jason- F-fuck you’re so- hah-”

His cock is swiping across your sweet spot, pressing in so hard you can’t help but let the tears pooling at your waterline trickle down your cheeks, face so puffy and red from built-up frustration. Jason seems to have lost some hold on the tools he was using to reassess you, the wax dripping across the swell of your ass and trickling down onto his clean slacks, staining the fabric. The sting is euphoric, every pinch of the burning liquid egging you to bounce your pretty ass faster.

Above you, Jason is lost, teeth gritted so tight he might chip a tooth at just how good the swell of your cunt feels constricting and tugging his veiny cock. He’s soaked inside of you so long you’re all warm and gushy, your arousal glistening down his length and pooling on his hips. He was satisfied just warming himself inside of your pretty cunt, but now that you’re moving and riding him as you need him, it’s all he can do not to give in to your minxy little rebellion.

“Jason- please, please. Just wanna- wanna cum so bad-”

Shit, the sweet sound of your tired voice sends chills all down Jason’s aching body, gnashing his teeth to withhold your desperate claws down his shoulders.

“[Y/N].”

“Jason-”

Using the last of his restraint, the redhead flames the light across the remaining stick of wax as close as he can, forcefully heating up the stick to a high degree. You’re bouncing on him, taking his cock all the way to the hilt each time, your thighs screaming for rest as they work over and over. Dropping the lighter onto his desk, Jason wraps around the small of your waist, holding you still for just a moment as he presses the stick of gooey hot wax right in the middle of your shoulder blades.

You cry out, pressing your bare chest as close to his as you can, and moan gutturally through the striking wave after wave of flashing pain. It’s only reasonable that he leaves you with a mark, the skin already turning red and blistered as the rest of the liquid dribbles down your spine and onto your flushed ass. It’s such a sight, your whines and labored cries moving closer to his ear as you nip at his neck. Jason groans, your lips pressing behind his blushing ears and sending chills down his body.

“Don’t cry when I give you what you want, my dear. I won’t- hah- I won’t stop now…” Wrapping his arms tight around your waist, Jason spreads his legs, digging his feet into the floor as he shifts your hips up onto him. You smile sickly, letting out a hearty moan when you feel his hips begin to snap up into yours, his cockhead ramming your cervix with cruel intent.

You gush around him, cunt shining with the sheen of your arousal and staining his nice clothes, the squelching, and slapping of built-up neglect obscene to listen to. The redhead claws against your back, fingernails digging into the trails of colorful wax and smearing the crusted liquid across your skin further. You huff, sobbing into his shoulder with every heavy thrust he delivers you, an even better punishment than the one before.

“Hah- Is it worth it? To be such a brat?” He pants, snagging a handful of your ass and digging his nails into the excess skin. You smile into his shoulder, sniffling your tears as the ache from your back subsides with the immense pleasure from your gut.

“Yeah.” You hum into his ear, nibbling the skin of his earlobe to make the man choke on his words. You dig your knees again, bouncing your ass down in time with his cock curving into the swell of your cervix and abusing the nerve over and over again.

Jason’s face is flushed, cheeks nearly matching the redness of his hair as his balls tighten and strain with every slap against your ass, his harrowing pace faltering just for a moment when you arch into it, tightening your gummy walls onto his veiny length. “Hn- My dear-”

Tears stain into his white button-up the same as the juices from your pussy stain his slacks, your cunt fluttering and constricting terribly tight around the hilt of his cock. Jason can feel his hips ache, his gut swell and knot every time the divot of his cock nudges your sensitive g-spot. He knows you’re close too, each bounce of your hips leaving you shaking for just a moment before you force yourself up to meet him again.

He leans close, sweat building across his brow as he pushes fiery strands out of his face to whisper close, “C’mon, dear, you wanted it so bad, now let me feel you cum with me inside, alright?”

It only takes a few more calculated thrusts up into your pussy before you’re snagging your fists into his hair, holding on for dear life as wave after wave of nauseating orgasms wracks your body. You cry into his shoulder, thick globs of tears staining your cheeks as your cunt clenches something awful around the thick girth still fucking its way inside you.

“Inside- inside, Jason- You’ve been in this long, don’ pull out now-” You choke, snarling into his neck.

That's all the poor, utterly feral redhead needs to cum. He’s clenching his eyes shut, digging his nails into the small of your back to force your hips impossibly closer down onto his cock as he delivers pulse after pulse of globs of cum up into your messy cunt. You rut your hips, riding out the crashing high that has Jason gripping you by the arms and forcing you off of his chest, staring with heavy, droopy eyes at the mess he’s made of you.

He trails his bright eyes down to the absolute mess of stains as his cock flinches and pulses, buried so snugly inside of you. You dizzily glance down, thighs still shaking as you’re met with the lewd sight of your pussy being absolutely stretched, lips so puffy and red as they grip so tightly around his girth. The sight is enough to make you moan again, weakly trying to sit your hips up and slide him out of you, desperate to see the mess he’s made inside also.

Until fingers dig into your hips, forcing you back down to the hilt and keeping you pistoned right there, unmoving. You feel the warmth of his cock back inside, cum soaking into your gooey arousal. “I’m not done just yet, my lady.”

Pushing you back against the workbench, Jason reaches for the lighter, another stick of wax held tight in his other hand. It’s not a moment before the droplets of fiery liquid are dripping onto your chest, running down the curve of your tits. His hips flex, nudging his cock in and out at a terribly infuriating pace, just barely reaching as far as it was.

“I say another round’s in order, don’t you, dear?”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[mydadleft471]

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Summary: Messmer decides to surprise you in more ways than one.

Spoilers for both Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings tho, just me loving my fiery redhead.

MESSMER LOVERS COME EAT!

I finally got the courage to upload the fic I was working on! Everyone was so nice (and starving for Messmer content) so I folded lmao. Please enjoy and understand that I have never written anything like this, especially with ye olde English. It's a pain.

“I have something I wish to show thee.” Messmer’s low voice cut through the silence reverberating in his chamber.

“What is it?” You look up from patching a hole in one of his cloaks.

“I cannot say. It is a surprise.” His eye twinkled with something akin to mischief. You put down your needle and gently fold his cloak, putting it on your chair to finish later.

“A surprise for me? Are you feeling alright, My Lord?” You smile at him from where he towers above you. 

“Shush. Wilt thou follow?” 

“Always,” you say.

He leads you down countless flights of stairs and through the castle’s corridors. Down a hallway, you follow him as he steps into a lift that takes you to a part of the castle that is unfamiliar to you. You assumed you had explored everything by now, but it seems you were wrong. Messmer had given you permission to freely roam the castle, and you had spent a lot of time exploring the various rooms. You had gotten lost many times within the many twisting and confusing hallways, but the castle staff always led you back to your quarters. 

The path from the lift leads out to a part of the castle almost entirely flooded. This seems like a place that hasn’t been occupied in many years. Some of the buildings you can see appear to be collapsing and debris litters the area. The water churns uneasily below you, as if something lurks in the depths. Taking a few steps away from the ledge, you stare out into the water that swallows surrounding buildings.

“What is it?” Messmer asks. He senses your trepidation in going any further, though you don’t think you have much to worry about with a powerful demigod at your side. Still, this place sets your nerves alight and has you on high alert.

“I’ve never seen this place before. Where are we?”

He speaks as if it’s common knowledge. “The Church District.”

“What happened here?”

He takes a second before he responds in a flat tone. “It does not matter.” Noticing your face falling slightly, he gives you a small smile. “Thy surprise is near. Come.”

You continue to follow him, your footfalls mere echoes of his much heavier ones. You wonder where he is taking you, and why he decided to surprise you. Though you have gotten much closer to him throughout your time in the Realm of Shadow, you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he wants to show you something himself. So many unanswered questions, though Messmer brings about many of those. Still, you cannot complain about how well he treats you now after you’ve earned some of his trust. You are safe within his walls, and you are welcome.

Though you wish he’d let you into his heart and mind more often, you take what you can get.

Finally, he stops in a room with a large, and complete, statue of Queen Marika. Many throughout the Realm of Shadow have been beheaded, sending icy chills through you when you first arrived, but this one is intact. The only signs of damage have been from the apparent age of the statue.

“Dost thou trust me?”

His question catches you off guard. Looking up at him, he looks vulnerable and almost uncomfortable. 

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have followed if I didn’t.” You smile at him to ease his tension.

He relaxes slightly. “Of course. I will ask thee to trust me again.”

You shoot him a puzzled look. How could you trust him any more than you already have?

“Close thine eyes. I shall lead thee, hand in hand.”

The prospect of him holding your hand makes heat rush to your cheeks, but you comply. Closing your eyes, you hold out your hands, and a few seconds later, he grabs them in his much larger ones. He holds them delicately, as if you might break if he dares to squeeze your hands. His skin is surprisingly smooth and warm. 

“I will ensure thou dost not fall and injure thyself..” 

“I’d appreciate that.”

He chuckles at your comment, a sound so rare and pleasant you want to hear it again and again. He begins walking, gently guiding you down a hill and you soon feel sunlight on your skin. The air feels lighter and there is a pleasant smell of lavender and fresh grass in the air. You wonder where you could possibly be. You haven’t seen much greenery in the Realm of Shadow.

After a few minutes he stops and lets go of your hands. You instantly miss his warmth, but you soon feel the heat of him behind you. You keep your eyes closed out of obedience and trust; you know he would not harm you.

His hands gently find your waist and he moves you a few steps to the left. Satisfied, he lowers a hand over your eyes to ensure you will not open them prematurely.

“This place is sacred. Inviting thee here was not a spontaneous act.” His voice is a mere whisper in your ear. You can’t tell whether to be scared or excited for what he will soon allow you to see.

He moves his hand away from your eyes, but they remain closed. You will not sully his trust. 

You can hear the smile in his voice. He’s pleased by your obedience. 

“Open thine eyes.”

You do, and you are immediately greeted with a grassy field speckled with vibrant flowers. You’ve never seen so many in one place. You think it would take all day to identify them. Trickles of gold sit suspended in the air like shattered stained glass and the sunlight kisses your skin sweetly. Not far up a hill is a small village made up of a few wooden houses. They look old and mostly abandoned. You take in the beauty before you. Not even Leyendell was this spectacular.

“Thou’rt pleased, I take it?” His voice wavers slightly with uncertainty.

“This is a most wonderful surprise, My Lord. Thank you for bringing me here.” You look up at Messmer, whose golden eye seems to shine brighter in the sanctity of this place.

“Forget formalities here.” He sits down in the soft grass and you are soon to join him. He looks relaxed, even happy, here.

“May I ask where we are now?” You idly skim your fingertips over the silky petals of the flowers swaying in the breeze around your skirt.

“Mother’s home. Her village before she became a God.” 

Your mouth hangs open in shock. It takes you a few moments to gather yourself enough to speak. “Queen Marika lived here?”

“Yes,” he answers. “Long ago.”

You wonder if Marika wanted Messmer to guard her old home, or if he does it out of love for her. You’ve seen the state of other Shamans within his infirmary, his medics working day and night to try and reverse the torture they’d went through. You knew Marika was a Shaman herself, but you’d never realized this place was originally her home. Your heart hurts for the God-Queen. Behind all her power was a girl who wanted her people safe.

You sigh, and Messmer shoots you a curious look. “This is the first time I’ve seen Marika as a person. Knowing she lived here, knowing she suffered… I understand now.”

Messmer reaches up and takes his helmet off, gently placing it to his side. “Mother desired revenge for her peoples’ suffering, and I became her instrument to do so here, in the Land of Shadow.”

“Did you want this?” 

He closes his eye. “Mother has endured what a thousand people could not. I will ensure she receives her long-awaited deliverance.” He dodged the question. He does not want this, but he desires to avenge Marika.

“I know you won’t answer me truthfully, and we don’t have to talk about this anymore. But know this: you are not ‘The Impaler’ to me.”

“Thank you.” His response is so quiet you almost can’t hear it, despite being right next to him.

As promised, you change the subject. “Have you brought others here?”

He looks away and you can see a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“I have not. The first to lay eyes on this place is thee.” He admits.

“Why?”

“I-“ he begins. “Surely thou must know thy importance to me, yes?” 

The realization hits you. 

This is his way of saying he loves you.

You scoot closer to him and lay your head against his arm. You feel him tense, then slowly begin to relax. One of his snakes gently perches itself on your shoulder. You smile.

“You can touch me, you know.” You reassure him. “You won’t break me.”

Silence hangs in the breeze as you wait for him to respond.

“Dost thou understand my reason for bringing thee here?”

You nod against him. “I think so.”

He moves away from you, earning himself a confused look, then he slowly grabs your hands and pulls you closer until you are comfortably sitting between his legs. You look up at him and see that his face is almost as red as his hair. He is adorable when he blushes.

You could get used to this.

“You will forgive me if I am too presumptuous. I am… not accustomed to touch, yet I want thee closer.” His soft, silky voice makes your heart melt.

“I want you closer too. It’s okay.” You cup his face with both hands, and though it’s a simple gesture, he relaxes into your touch almost immediately. His eye closes and you try to memorize the look of peace etched on his face.

“With thee, I am content.” He whispers to you.

“Then I’ll see to it that we’re never separated.” 

His eye flutters open and he hazily looks down at your lips. His hand engulfs your cheek and you feel the warmth radiating from his palm.

So many have met their demise from the man sitting in front of you now, content and complacent, and that thought sends shivers down your spine.

“No man nor God could tear thee away from me. That is a promise.” 

He leans forward and kisses you. His lips are soft and he pulls you closer to him and his hands are splayed possessively over your face and back. You don’t want to pull away, and you get the feeling he doesn’t want to either.

You are his as he is yours.

[nuemanfilms]

PLEASE? S.W

Content warning smut, piv, no plot, unprotected, creampie, sub and dom dynamic, sub!sam, demon kink? Demon!reader, dean comes back at the end, no italics..

PWP.

16+ recommended, wrap it before you tap it! Smut below the cut

This was wrong. Dean knew it was wrong, Sam knew it was wrong. But Sam practically couldn’t resist you, it wasn’t about the blood. That’s what his brother first thought. And it wasn’t about the vessel.. well part of it was. But you just always teased him- and flirted.. you gave him what he always wanted from a woman.

Your hands gripped at his hair, Dean was out at a bar. Sam’s head was buried between your legs. Licking and sucking at your wet pussy. He was rutting his hips against the bed at the taste of you.

“You like eating my pussy, Baby?” You coo to him teasingly, and he lets out a moan. He’s never been this submissive in bed before.. Usually he was taking charge. But with you.. it was different.

His jeans had a wet stain on them from his arousal, and he lapped up all of the juices you provided him.

“Please- I need..” He didn’t finish. He couldn’t believe he was actually begging you, a creature known for violence.. a creature known for darkness, a demon. He couldn’t help but find it even more attractive.

“Need what, Sammy? You wanna fuck my pussy?” Your lips curled up into a teasing smile, and he couldn’t help but nod. God, his cock was aching against his confines so bad. The way you were looking at him, gasping at his eagerness against your clit.. he felt as if he might explode.

“I need to fuck you, Please—I’ve been so good.” He whined, looking up at you with a pleading expression.

“What if Dean saw, hm? Saw his little brother rutting his dick against me?” He swore he could see a look of intention in your eyes. But he couldn’t help it! His cock ached so bad.. he’d been needing this for a while.

“I… I don’t care. I need to be inside of you—Just please let me fuck you..” He gave you his puppy dog eyes. And it didn’t even phase you, not one bit. You were the first woman who didn’t fall for it. Yet you ended up giving in anyway because you could see how hard he was. Straining against his jeans.

“Fine, you can. But no cumming until I say so, understand?” Sam nodded hesitantly, hurriedly removing himself from his bottoms.

He lined himself up, looking down at you for permission, he let out a small whine.

“Go ahead, Hon.”

He pushed past your folds, groaning at the sudden tightness and warmth surrounding his cock. You couldn’t help but let out a moan yourself, He was much bigger than you thought.

He waited a minute, and you nodded.

“Yeah, c’mon.. fuck me, Sammy..”

He started to move, his mouth parting, he’s never been this vocal. But you felt so damn good squeezing his cock like that.

“F-Fuck.. you’re so- tight, Shit!” He let out noises he didn’t even know he could make, mixed with grunts, and moans. Your lewd sounds weren’t quiet either. And the motel room quickly smelled of sex, and filled with the sound of skin on skin.

“Yeah.. just like that- You’re so good, Sam.. you’re so pretty.” You praised, and he whined in your neck. Pressing chaste kisses to your supple skin. Trying to muffle his sounds of pleasure.

He was getting close so fast, and the thought of holding it made him whimper.

“Please.. Can I cum? Please let me cum inside your pussy- I’ll make you feel so good.” He pleaded, his fingertips trailing down to rub against your clit.. And he was satisfied with your own moan. He felt you tighten around him. And he didn’t think it was possible for him to get even harder, but he did.

“Fuck, okay, okay.. yeah- yeah. You can cum, Sweetheart..” He let out a whine, his cock throbbed, and he was filling his seed inside of you. Low whimpers of pleasure hidden by your skin.

“Did so good, so good for me.. Sweet boy.” You smiled down at him. He pulled out, and you moaned at the loss of him. You helped him put his boxers back on, and he laid down beside you, hiding his face in your neck that he knew was flushed.

The motel door opened, Dean turning the lights on before speaking, “Evil bitch.” He groaned, “Really?! I go out and you guys.. do this? Sam?!” Sam didn’t answer, he was too tired to respond.

“I’m just providing him what he asked for, Dean. I don’t see a problem.”

“You fucked my little brother and he’s practically a lovesick puppy for you.” Dean sighed, putting his hands up in defeat. “Whatever.. just not when i’m around, I don’t wanna see that stuff.”

[shnarky-blogs]

𝚂𝚆𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶-

Oc x ftm! Bunny reader

𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚈: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎♡♡

You were taken in by Javes a few months ago, he has been so kind to you these past few months staying with him, he's so gentle, caring, and understanding.

You almost depend everything on him because of how much he spoils you, always giving you what you want because you're just so cute for him, it gives him a heart attack from the cuteness!♡

He loves the way you'd always behave, sitting on his lap to warm him up on cold nights together whenever you both watch a movie, giving him gentle and sweet kisses that make him scream inside his mind and just overall being a good boy in the house.

_______

Javes was currently on his laptop, doing some reports for his job, until you came up to him and began nuzzling up against his body, instantly grabbing his attention.

"Yes sweetheart?"

He asked out softly, gently pulling your head to lay on his chest.

"I want master to play with me"

You looked up at him with those innocent eyes, he really wanted to play with you but his work was distracting him from playing with you.

Honestly, he had some perverted thoughts about breeding that beautiful cunt of yours.. he wants to feel it surrounding him.. warming his cock up, he immediately shook those thoughts away, sighing softly as he caresses your face.

"But I'm busy my dear"

You let out a soft whine, looking up at him with a disappointed look which made Javes feel guilty.

"w-we can be quick though.. please master?"

You whimpered out, kneading his thigh to get his attention, the sight of you all needy just to play with him made him want you more, he was trying so hard to hide his boner from you, he just wanna fuck you right there on the couch.. he could feel his cock throb at the sight of you nuzzling up against him while letting out your adorable noises.

It was as if you were Begging to get fucked by him.

Suddenly, his hand gently held your wrist, a soft warm smile present on his lips but with something else present in his eyes.

"Dear, wait for master in the bedroom, sit on the bed and wait for me okay? I'll be there shortly after this"

He smiled, rubbing his palm on your waist, you nodded happily, skipping happily into his bedroom.

You were so excited to play with your master, thinking about every idea of what you two were gonna play, this made your fluffy cotton tail wag happily at the thought and excitement.

When he came in, his aura felt strange.. but you didn't mind, you shot him a smile.

"Master! Master!"

You yipped out almost adorably, fluffy ears perked up at the sight of him.

He just smiles and gets on top of you.

"Shh, my little boy seems so excited to play with me, hm?"

You nodded immediately, showing how happy you were which made him laugh a bit.

"Can you behave for me, baby? Stay still alright"

You nodded in understanding, and soon he gently took your shorts off which surprised you, you looked up at him with confusion and unsureness.

"It's okay hunny, its okay"

He smiled, pulling you in a gentle hug he pulled your shorts off and shows your now visible boy pussy, his cock twitched happily at the sight of your cute hole in Infront of him, and he couldn't help but dove in and began eating that pussy.

Your ears perked up in surprise as you looked down at him, your face slowly turned to one of pleasure, shyly hiding your moans which made it more adorable.

Later on, once your pussy is already soaking wet, he pulled his hard cock, pressing it against your wet hole, you let out a nervous whine, clinging to Javes which made him smile.

"Shh baby.. I'm here don't worry sweetheart.."

He smiles softly, kissing your face lovingly as he thrusts in, his tip immediately kissing your cervix inside your boy pussy.

"Doing so good baby boy.. such a good boy for me huh? Taking my cock like a champ"

He whispered into your ear lovingly, kissing your neck in the process, he held your hand gently while he thrust into you, letting out soft grunts of pleasure.

"M-masterrr~ f-full.. feel so full~♡"

You whined out, clinging to him tightly, he smiled at your words, and his thrust began to go faster but still gently to not hurt his poor boy, soon you came, staining both of your tummies in the process

"you take my cock so well my pretty boy.. you look so cute stained with cum.. but I'm not done yet hunny, master also needs to cum.."

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

Guide for manifesting weight loss:

So an Anon asked me to make this and here it is, it will help others too.

As we all know that we often struggle with achieving our weight goal,doing workout,keeping a strict diet and eating healthy etc...

All of this was created by man, a man-made creation like Times, Machines, names, studies, science and many more.

And of course this was all coming from the imagination.

But i'm here to tell you that nothing is set in stone, your beliefs/assumption are the true fact.

Don't do things that you don't want to, just for you to loss weight ,because some non loa-believe people told you to.

Do whatever you want! Cause you make the rules and you control your own reality.

And you should be grateful that you discovered loa out of BILLIONS OF PEOPLE that are living miserably, believing that they should work hard to have what they want, following society rules.

Knowing your true power:

You need to understand that you are what we call God ,an Infinite being that could do anything without limitation.

You Can be whoever you want, get anything you want and more, even manifest the most illogical things, and this all because you're a consciousness that Can decide whoever version of themselves is gonna be.

But does God need to follow the rules? Does god need to do method? Does god need to do challenge? NO!! ABSOLUTELY NOT! YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOUR MIND TELLS YOU TO, HELL! EVEN YOU CAN CREATE YOUR OWN RULES AND METHOD.

YOU ➜ God (imagination) ➜ create your own rules and method and Can manifest anything you want into your reality.

You Can be a model, having that pretty face, being a billionaire, living in that penthouse, having a yacht, fancy car, being with your handsome/pretty SP, having that perfect body. Having superpowers, having a little fairy, having a Magic portal in your room and swimming in money and MANY MORE.

All of that with what? Without even Lifting a single little finger, everything you ever wanted already EXIST, there's many versions of yourself with your desires, and with just that pretty powerful mind of yours.

Understanding the Law:

The law of assumption indicate that whatever you assume to be true will Harden into fact with persistence.

Manifesting your desires into the physical reality just requires you to change your inner self so that the outer World will follow.

The 3d is a mirror ➜ changing your self (4d) ➜ persisting ➜ the 3d will reflect your 4d ➜ yay! You have your desires in the physical reality.

It is very simple and easy.

All of this just needs discipline and having faith in yourself and your true power as a god.

Now the important part of this post.

How to manifest weight loss while ignoring the 3d:

We do know that manifesting weight loss might seem difficult for the most of us.

While you're manifesting and there's the people that surround you Always ALWAYS complaining and pointing about your appearance, your weight and that might get you very pissed off and angry.

I am myself suffering from this, my parents Always pointing at my appearance,saying that i look fat (and that not true they are just exaggerating things, my Friends told me that i have a beautiful body but i hide it with over-sized clothes cause i'm insecure), and they force me to go workout when i don't want to (cause obviously i hate sport and socializing) and which caused a HUGE ARGUMENTS with them, and i Lost it (cause i have anger issues) but they didn't listen they told me it for my own good🙄 my ass, so i had no choice but to listen to them but i'm DONE FOLLOWING SOCIETY RULES AND BELIEFS.

So yeah i'm not listening to anybody but my personal beliefs cause i'm the only one who knows the truth, the cheat code to life.

you Can eat whatever you want and with the belief that you won't gain a single weight and it's will become a fact.

Your beliefs and assumption matters and don't listen to anybody.

Okay so now you might wonder how to manifest weight loss while interacting with the 3d every single day and it very simple:

➜ firstly choose what desired weight or body you want to manifest.

➜ secondly knows that you do already have it in imagination and creation is finished, you're already that version of yourself that is skinny or muscular.

➜ thirdly you need to keep persisting no matter what the 3d tells you cause that will make the subconscious really believes you're that desired version of yourself.

➜ and lastly dismiss the 3d, if the people surrounding you keep pointing at your appearance just ignore them and affirm in your head that you already have your desired weight or body and knows that the 3d will change.

You really need to throw Logic in the trash Cane, Logic won't get you anywhere but imagination will.

"Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world." Albert Einstein.

"Logic will take you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere" Albert Einstein.

"You believe in God? Believe also in your imagination" Neville Goddard.

You want to have that perfect body? Yes you Can, you want to have that Chinese standard Body? Yes you Can! You want to be muscular and lean? Yeah you definitely Can.

Just pick and choose, fulfilling yourself in your imagination and accepting it as fact and the 3d will follow.

Seriously it is really simple, just don't overcomplicate it.

Just have faith and trust in yourself and you'll definitely do it.

I don't want anybody sending me Ask in my Inbox After this post.

Go apply and you'll definitely thank me for it. (Read this one)

I advice you to read these post they're really Amazing and it will surely make it click for you:

This, and this, this and this, this one, and this one, this, this, this, this,this one, and this, this last one.

And lastly you're the only one that Can change your reality, no one Can do it for you, you're already a master manifestor and void master and you're on the pedestal.

You were meant to change your life and live in happiness and wealth.

_ Xoxo, Eli

© Scentedpeachlandcreator

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Daemon/Rhaenyra Targaryen w/Rhaenyra's Twin!Sister Headcanons (Poly!Romantic)

❝ — 🐉 lady l: this is weirdly long but I needed to get it out of my head! This is based on a concept they sent me a while ago. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: incest, slight nsfw, obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, mention of pregnancy.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!daemyra x rhaenyra's twin sister!reader.

You were Rhaenyra's twin, born a few minutes after her, and because of that, she always had a strong instinct to protect you, to take care of you and she always does. All your life, it was you and Rhaenyra against the world. And this arrangement always left you satisfied, you loved your sister and she loved you fervently in return.

Rhaenyra has always been very persuasive and for as long as you can remember she would convince you of anything; breaking rules, running away, stealing cake from the kitchen and getting into trouble. She didn't care, she valued you deeply and wanted to spend all her time with you.

Aemma and Viserys sometimes went crazy with the two of you being so naughty, but in the end, they always joined you. Aemma tried to be a little tougher with you both, but she always gave in eventually. Viserys didn't even try.

Rhaenyra was very possessive too, because you were her twin sister, she always felt entitled and that you belonged to her. After all, you shared the same womb and were born together, you belonged to her, in a way.

She was always quite bold and direct, and was often reprimanded for it. Rhaenyra knew she loved you more than she should have, but you were Targaryens, according to the traditions of your house and family, there was nothing wrong with her being in love with you. It was just the Targaryen way.

The only problem was that you were a woman. Not for her, that would never be a problem, but for others it would. She couldn't marry you and have you officially and it tore her apart inside.

That didn't mean she hid what she felt from you, because once she knew what she felt, Rhaenyra went to your room, which was next to hers, and confessed to you. It was embarrassing and a little awkward, but she was being sincere and it touched you.

You felt the same way about her too and it was eating you alive not being able to tell her, but she took the first step and you felt grateful. You didn't have any kind of experience, but you knew some things. The first kiss was sloppy and a little awkward, but it was understandable given the lack of experience between the two of you, but it was a precious moment,

You just kissed and hugged for a while, not knowing how to proceed. Until Daemon returns to King's Landing after winning the war in the Stepstones. You always liked your uncle, even though he caused a lot of trouble, he entertained you. And the feeling was mutual.

Daemon knew there was something between you and Rhaenyra, he very quickly noticed the looks and subtle touches you exchanged. It wasn't something platonic, he knew that and he wanted to know more.

During the night of Daemon's return, you had gone to Rhaenyra's room, as you always did, and there you found, along with her, some clothes left by your uncle and a note. Although your mind was full of doubts, you changed and followed your sister, who seemed excited for some reason.

Meeting up with Daemon, you explored a bit of King's Landing and before you knew it, you were in a brothel. You observed your surroundings with curiosity and interest, men and women doing intimate things.

When Daemon kissed Rhaenyra, you felt mixed feelings; surprise and jealousy being the biggest one. You would maybe scream at him when he kissed you, his experienced and strong lips yours, leaving you weak. You felt a desire rise within you.

His touches were strong and good, he knew what he was doing and you felt numb as he explored your body with his hands. Rhaenyra watched everything curiously. But something had changed inside him, as Daemon decided to stop touching you and left you and Rhaenyra alone in the brothel. You wanted to kill him here.

You and Rhaenyra returned to the Red Keep, sneaking out so you wouldn't be found and you both knew you wouldn't be able to sleep after witnessing what you saw. So, it was that night that you went further and had sex for the first time.

It wasn't something shy, but rather intimate. You had no experience, but it was good. Rhaenyra touched your body with care and her tongue loved your most sensitive parts, she quickly learned how to pleasure you. You reciprocated the pleasure as best you could, with your face buried between her legs, eliciting sighs and moans from her.

The following days were tortuous. Viserys had found out about your escapade and Daemon had been exiled and Rhaenyra was forced to marry Laenor. You would also have to get married, but your husband had not yet been chosen. Your sister's wedding was a painful time for you and her, the two of you constantly exchanging glances and Daemon had returned to the wedding, widowed and with your father's very reluctant permission, you and Daemon had gotten married.

After the wedding, you were forced to separate from Rhaenyra and you lived in Pentos with Daemon. You had learned to love your husband and he loved you, so it wasn't bad. Your heart ached to be away from your twin sister, but you were happy with your husband.

Daemon wasn't that bad, at least to you. He was loyal and treated you with kindness and respect, loving every part of you and comforting you when you were in pain. His kisses were more demanding and dominant, just like sex. Although very possessive and sometimes annoying, Daemon took care of you the best way he could.

Daemon had a lot of experience and knew how to please you, his fingers dipped between your legs and his mouth on your breasts or when he was buried in your heat he made you scream with pleasure.

You and Rhaenyra exchanged letters and a few years passed and children were born. You had two daughters with Daemon, twins, and Rhaenyra had had three sons. You met again at your cousin Laena's funeral, and a weight was lifted from your shoulders when she pulled you into a hug and held you, not wanting to let you go.

The three of you found yourself in a part away from all the whining and all the longing was broken. Words were exchanged, mainly between Daemon and Rhaenyra and when there was nothing more to be said, the clothes were removed and you made love on the floor, the longing prolonging the reunion.

Unbeknownst to you, while you were sleeping, Rhaenyra and Daemon met and actually talked. They knew they both loved you deeply and wanted you and were willing to cooperate and the best way was for you to get married in a traditional valyrian ceremony. With the plans made, Laenor was "eliminated".

You were shocked and saddened by your cousin's death, but you felt relieved because it now meant that Rhaenyra would be free.

During one afternoon, you, Daemon and Rhaenyra were married in a traditional valyrian ceremony, where you could be officially married. You became Rhaenyra's wife and she became yours and Daemon's. Finally you were complete and when the kiss was given, sealing the union, you knew there was more to this marriage.

The wedding with your uncle and sister would prove to be one of your fondest memories after the tragedy that followed over the next few years.

But for now, you would enjoy your possessive and protective husband and wife as much as you could, because only the gods know it won't be for long.

[alwaysobsessed777]

WE FELL IN LOVE IN OCTOBER - P.B.

warnings: none

words: 1018

summary: reader wants to ask out Paige, and when she does, Paige says yes

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

“Paigeeee,” I whined, pulling her towards the fair. Paige and I have been friends since the beginning of college. Running into her in a coffee shop was the best accident to ever happen to me. The awkwardness of the encounter becoming a friendship I might ruin in a matter of minutes.  

Since we’ve became friends, becoming more and more comfortable, I've slowly fell in love with her. Now, here I am, dragging her to a pumpkin festival, planning on asking her to be my girlfriend. Did i think she was going to say yes? No. But what’s wrong with trying?  

She laughed, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts, “Y/n, calm down. It’s still gonna be there in five minutes.” 

I rolled my eyes, “Okay, I want us to go in the corn maze now!” 

She chuckles, “Whatever.” She let me drag her to the entrance, I buy both of our ways in (After much arguing about it). We walked in, my gaze locked on the maze. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, I just needed to get myself to do it.  

“Come on, this way!” I managed to get us both straight to the maze. Knowing we’d have to bolt past the concessions, Paige would keep us there all day.  

“Wait, we shoulda stopped and grabbed food,” She pouts, I hold back a smile. Sometimes, it got progressively harder to stop myself from kissing her right then and there. When she pouts, that’s the worst.  

“Stop pouting, I’ll buy you something after the maze,” I finally slowed my walk, my grip on her wrist loosening, and my mind starting to race. 

“Why’d you want to come here so bad, I mean the maze?” Her face held concern. I wanted to just do it, ask her, but my nerves were going crazy.  

I shrugged, playing it cool, “I don’t know, it’s the best part of the fair.” Wrong. The rides were; everyone knew that. 

“Uh, that’s completely wrong,” She ran her hands through her hair, “What made you say that?” 

Could she not ask questions right now, as much as I love to hear her talk, not right now. “I don’t know, change of heart maybe.” 

“Whatever weirdo,” She glanced around, taking in her surroundings, “I don’t understand why people enjoy trapping themselves in a maze for long periods of time. Like, why?” 

I snickered, her mind always intrigued me. The way she thinks, it was something else sometimes.  

“I’m not joking! Like, please answer that question,” I spun around, deciding to just drop it on her now. 

“After you answer my question,” She smirks, one of her eyebrows raised.  

“Yes ma’am, now what’s this question of yours?” I felt my throat close. I couldn’t breathe, let alone talk.  

“Can I say some stuff first?” She nods, “I just wanna say how amazing our friendship is. Paige, you’re like the best person to ever come into my life. You’re always there for me, when my parents weren’t talking to me, when I almost flunked out of school, when...just when I needed you most. I’ve been falling for you, and I can’t say that I hate it. The one person who has made me happy for the last four years is you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love with somebody in my life.” 

There was the face I had expected. Confusion was what I thought I was going to get from her. The next bit, not as much.  

“Y/n...I don’t know what to say...” I cut her off, “You don’t have to.” 

“No, I want to,” She paused, grabbing both of my hands, holding them in hers, “Y/n, I didn’t know you felt any way towards me.” 

“Can I ask my question?” She nods, “Will you be my girlfriend?” 

She smiles, “Yes, a hundred times yes.”  

I couldn’t contain myself. I threw myself at her, wrapping my arms around her neck. Her hands landing on my waist, slightly pulling me closer. Never did I think I would say the words ‘Paige Bueckers is my girlfriend,’ but here I am.  

“You wanna get something to eat?” I asked, pushing away from her body ever so slightly.  

“Oh my god, yes. I’m glad you asked me at the beginning of the maze rather then the middle,” I gave her a confused look. “Oh, I saw the messages between you and Nika. You really think she keeps quiet about anything?” 

I blushed, “Nika told you?” 

“No, she was blabbing about it to Aubrey. I walked in and overheard all of it.” 

I hide my face in her shoulder, “Stop, I was so nervous too.” 

She chuckles, “I know, babe.” 

“Then why didn’t you just say something?” 

“I needed to know that it was real, that you were falling for me as hard as I was falling for you,” Her face flushed red, she was second guessing it too. 

“I think I couldn’t be more in love with you than I am right now,” I mumbled into her, a smile spreading onto her face. 

“I think I might love you more,” I raise my head to look at her, “What’s with that look?” 

“I’m literally the one who asked you out...I love you more.” 

“Nope,” She shook her head. I gave her another look. 

“Yeah, come on. I’ve had this massive crush on you for like two years.” 

“Try four, sweetheart.” 

My eyes widened, “Four?” 

She nods, “Yep, I’ve always liked you. The day I saw you in that coffee shop, I literally couldn’t take my eyes off you. I’ve never been so consumed with the feeling of infatuation so strongly in my life. The way you talked so nicely to the barista, the way you smiled, the way you covered your mouth when you laughed, the way your cheeks tinted pink when you got a small compliment, just...everything.” She paused, “I wanted to ask you out then and there, but I had been staring, and completely forgot if you were to turn around, you’d bump right into me.” 

“And I did.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t move.” 

“Me too.” 

a/n: lowkey like it...lowkey hate it

[marauroon]

hihihi

would you be open to doing a request for my favourite boy remus <333

Potentially something surrounding the reader being jealous, but she's too proud to say anything about it, so it just eats away at her and makes her moodier and moodier until Remus calls her out for it.

lots of love!!!!

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY — REMUS LUPIN!

you love that remus loves his friends, but maybe he loves them a little too much.

remus lupin x fem!reader | angst | 2.4k | masterlist!!

part one. | part two.

a/n — say it with me now, miscommunication ruins relationships

You didn’t mind it at first.

“Hey dollface, mind if we nick Remus for a bit?”

It was sweet to know Remus had such close friends.

“Sorry sweetheart, we need to borrow Moony for the evening,”

But they were maybe a little too close.

You weren’t even sure it was intentional.

After all, it was only every now and then that Remus was pulled away by his friends - it wasn’t all the time.

You’d been dating for four months, and you trusted Remus. Of course you did. He was sweet, and kind, and affectionate.

He was also completely devoted to his friends.

But you couldn’t help but miss when the two of you used to spend the evenings curled up together in the library.

Or sneaking off after class to a secluded corner of the castle where you could steal a few precious moments alone.

You missed his hugs, and his warmth, and his scent...

But most of all, you missed having him all to yourself.

You don’t remember when it started, exactly, the festering jealousy that curls in your chest like a fist, squeezing tighter each time you see him laugh with someone else.

It’s stupid.

You know it’s stupid, but you can’t help the way your eyes follow him across the common room when he’s too busy to notice you.

The worst part is that it’s not even a secret you’re jealous of his attention. Well, no, maybe not the worst part—that’s the way you can’t say anything about it. You won’t. You don’t dare.

It’s just... the way he talks to James, all that easy, effortless camaraderie that makes you want to throw something. They have a thousand inside jokes, jokes you don’t understand, not because they’ve ever tried to exclude you but because they have a history that doesn’t include you.

You weren’t there for all the pranks in first year, the secret escapades sneaking out to the kitchens at midnight, or the long summer days spent on Quidditch pitches and lounging under the sun.

You came later. The new addition. The outsider.

You’re always on the edges of their conversations, and Remus—Remus always tries to pull you in, you know that. He notices when you don’t speak up, when you’re lingering a little too far from the fire, or when you force a laugh at something you don’t understand.

He smiles at you, and it makes your chest ache, because you don’t want to be the one who needs inviting. You want to be the one he turns to first, the one he laughs with without hesitation, the one he seeks out with that soft look in his eyes like you’re something worth paying attention to.

So you keep quiet. You don’t make a fuss when Remus spends hours talking to Sirius about something you don’t understand—some Muggle band that Sirius loves and Remus pretends not to.

You don’t say anything when they all throw an arm around Remus’s shoulders and walk down the corridors together, a trio of arms and laughter and secrets that you’re not a part of.

It’s fine. It’s fine. You tell yourself you’re just being silly, immature. You’re not his only friend. Even if you were his girlfriend. Why should it matter if he spends more time with them than he does with you?

But it does matter. It eats at you.

The jealousy burns hotter and uglier the longer you try to hide it. You try to ignore it, you really do, but it gets harder and harder when you see how Remus lights up around them, when he laughs at one of James’s jokes and doesn’t turn to share a private smile with you.

You start to snap without meaning to. It’s little things at first. A muttered insult about James when he makes a show of scoring during a quidditch practice you’d been dragged along to, a rolled eye when Sirius talks too loudly in the library.

You scoff when Remus gushes about the new Defence Against the Dark Arts book he’s found, your voice clipped as you say, “Not everyone’s as obsessed with books as you are.”

Remus pauses, eyes narrowing slightly, but you just turn away. It’s easier to walk away than to see the flicker of hurt that flashes across his face.

It’s not just the words, though. It’s the way you’ve started to withdraw. You don’t linger in the common room as much anymore when the four of them are there, joking and chatting like they don’t even notice you’ve slipped away.

You bury yourself in your schoolwork in the library instead, disappearing for hours until you can barely remember what it’s like to sit by the fire with them.

You tell yourself it’s better this way. You’re doing everyone a favour by staying out of their way, by not making them uncomfortable with your ridiculous jealousy.

Except, of course, you’re not really staying out of Remus’s way at all. You keep an eye on him from across the Great Hall at meals, pretending not to care when he laughs at something Sirius says.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter when he waves you over to their table and you pretend not to see, burying your nose in your Potions textbook instead. It’s easier that way, safer, to keep your distance so he doesn’t realize what a mess you are inside.

You don’t even realize how obvious it’s becoming until one evening in the common room. It’s late, almost curfew, and most of the Gryffindors have already gone to bed.

You’re sitting in the corner, flipping through the same page of your Transfiguration textbook for the fourth time when you hear Remus’s voice from across the room. He’s with James and Sirius again, and they’re talking about the next Quidditch match.

You don’t mean to listen, but you can’t help it. Every time Remus’s voice rises above the others, you find yourself gripping the edge of your book a little tighter.

“—and if you pull that move you practiced last week, Gryffindor’ll have a real chance—” Remus is saying, his eyes alight with excitement, and something in your chest twists.

You can’t stand it anymore. Without thinking, you slam the book shut and get to your feet, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Remus’s voice cuts off mid-sentence, and you can feel their eyes on you as you stride towards the stairs, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Hey-!” Remus calls after you. “Where are you going?”

“Bed,” you mutter, not turning around.

“Wait,” he says, and there’s a sharpness in his tone that makes you stop. You freeze, one hand on the bannister, and suddenly the room feels too small, too suffocating. You can’t do this. You can’t look at him.

“Are you all right?” he asks, and you don’t know if you want to laugh or cry because of course you’re not all right. You haven’t been all right for weeks, but you can’t tell him that. You don’t know how.

You’ve been so careful, so determined to keep it bottled up, to keep your jealousy locked behind a wall of silence and forced smiles.

“I’m fine,” you say through gritted teeth, and you hear Remus shift behind you, the sound of his footsteps approaching.

“No, you’re not,” he says quietly, and your heart clenches because he sounds so calm, so steady, like he’s trying to understand something you’re not ready to admit. “You’ve been... off, lately. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you snap, but your voice wavers, and you hate that he can hear it, that he knows you well enough to catch the lie. “Just leave me alone, Remus.”

He doesn’t. You can feel his presence at your back, warm and unrelenting, and when you don’t move, he steps closer, his voice low and insistent. “Talk to me. Please.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you say, and it comes out sharper than you mean it to, a knife’s edge meant to wound, but Remus doesn’t flinch. He never flinches. He just waits, patient and steady, and it makes you want to scream because he’s not supposed to be the calm one. He’s not supposed to make this so damn hard.

“Why are you so angry all the time?” he asks, and his voice is so soft, so gentle that it makes your chest ache. You swallow, staring at the bannister because you can’t look at him, not now, not when everything feels like it’s about to break apart.

“I’m not angry,” you say, but the words ring hollow even to your own ears.

“Yes, you are,” he insists. “You’ve been distant, snappy, and—look, if I did something, I want to know. I want to make it right.”

“It’s not about you,” you blurt out, but it’s a lie, of course it’s about him, it’s always about him, and you can’t take it back now. “I just—I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? Just drop it.”

“I can’t,” he says, and his voice is firm now, insistent in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but I can tell it’s eating you up. Whatever it is, I want to help.”

You want to tell him it’s fine, that you don’t need his help, that he should just go back to James and Sirius and leave you alone, but the words stick in your throat.

There’s something in his eyes, something raw and worried, and suddenly you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath your feet.

You don’t want to do this, you don’t want to admit it, but you can’t hold it back any longer. It’s tearing you apart from the inside out, this stupid, suffocating jealousy, and you don’t know how much longer you can pretend you’re okay.

“I just...” you start, and your voice breaks. You shake your head, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “It’s nothing, okay? It’s stupid.”

“Tell me,” he urges, and his hand is warm on your shoulder, grounding you, and you can’t hold it in anymore.

“It’s you and the bloody ‘marauders’!” you burst out, and the words are loud and desperate and angry, echoing in the empty common room. Remus’s eyes widen, but you don’t stop. You can’t. “It’s you and James and Sirius, and how you’re always together, and you never need me, you never look at me the way you look at them, and it’s stupid because I know you’re allowed to have friends, but I just—”

You choke on the words, your breath hitching, and you don’t know if you’re angry or relieved or just plain exhausted from holding it in for so long. Remus’s face is unreadable, his eyes wide and startled, and suddenly you can’t stand to be here, to be this vulnerable in front of him.

“Forget it,” you mutter, turning away, but Remus doesn’t let you go. His hand tightens on your shoulder, and when you try to pull away, he steps closer, blocking your path.

“No,” he says, and there’s something fierce in his voice now, a determination you’ve never heard before. “No, I won’t forget it. I didn’t realise... I didn’t know you felt like this.”

“How could you not?” you snap, and your voice cracks on the last word. “I’ve been miserable for weeks, and you didn’t even notice.”

“I did notice,” he says quietly, and you hate the sadness in his eyes, the way he looks at you like you’re breaking his heart. “I just didn’t know why. You—you’re important to me. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re not.”

“Well, you did,” you say, and you can’t stop the tears that are spilling over now, hot and angry down your cheeks. “You did.”

Remus’s face crumples, and he steps closer, his hand moving from your shoulder to cup your cheek. It’s too much, too intimate, and you want to pull away, but you can’t. You’re frozen, trapped in the warmth of his gaze, the gentleness of his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and the sincerity in his voice is like a knife twisting in your chest. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you don’t matter. You do. You matter so much to me.”

You shake your head, trying to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. He holds you there, his thumb brushing away your tears, and you hate that you want to believe him, that some part of you aches to hear those words and hold onto them.

“Please,” he says, his voice barely a breath. “Don’t push me away. I—I want to understand. I want to make it right.”

You don’t know if he can, if anything can fix the tangled mess of feelings inside you, but when he looks at you like that, so open and raw and real, you find yourself nodding, just once, a hesitant, fragile thing.

And when he pulls you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest, you let yourself break, just for a moment, and cling to him like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s falling apart.

— part two!!

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Alicent Hightower X Prostitute!Reader: Secret touches

Warnings: smut, oral ( f receiving), face sitting, Alicent being kind off inexperienced, female anatomy, female reader, no use of y/n, Crispy Cole makes an appearance (a brief one), nipple play, cum eating.

Word count: 2K

You’re not used to being in the Castle. In reality this was your first time stepping into these halls. You tug at the neckline of your dress. You aren’t used to being so covered. Being a worker in the street of silk meant you often found yourself with as minimal clothes as possible. After so many years you’d grown used to being bare most of the time. But you couldn’t walk in such a sacred space with such little clothing so you’d opted for a dress that covered you better. 

You trailed behind the guard in silence, eyes taking in your surroundings. You wondered why you’d been called here. You’d lain with the Targeryens before but always outside of the castle walls. That's the way it was supposed to be. The royals prided themselves in being discreet about these things. Or at least they thought they were being discreet about it but in reality everyone knew of their trips to the street of silk. 

The guard stopped in front of a door, knocking on it. You waited for a moment before a voice rang through the hall.

“Enter.”

You recognized the voice instantly. Alicent Hightower was behind that door. Your eyes widened a bit at the realization. For some reason you’d expected to have been called over by one of the men of the castle. But the longer you thought about it the more it made sense that Alicent has been the one to request you. She was probably after secrets her children kept from her. And who better to answer her questions than someone like you who dealt with secrets on the daily. 

You walked into the room, eye scanning the place until your eyes fell on Alicents red hair. You heard the door close behind you, telling your the guard had left. Alicent turned to face you, her eyes looking you up and down. 

“Your Grace.”

You gave a small bow, knowing it was better to be formal than to suffer the consequences. Alicent walked around the room, nervously picking at her hands. You stayed still, awaiting any command from her. 

“You work in the street of silk.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“So you’ve been with men.”

“Yes, Your Grace. Many men have come for my services.”

Silence filled the room for a moment as Alicent thought of how to make this next question not so obvious.

“What about women?”

Your brows furrowed for a moment, trying to understand why Alicent would ask something like that. But then she turned around to face you and you caught onto the look on her face, understanding immediately. You gave her a small smirk, eyes switching to a more sultry gaze.

“Yes, I've pleasured women before, Your Grace.”

You could see the way Alicents breath hitched a bit at your words. The action pleased you greatly. You always adored the effect you had on people. Especially important people. Alicent stared at you for a moment, trying to decide if she was really going to do this. You were already here, it would be a waste not to.

“Take your clothes off.”

You smiled at Alicent, hands moving to remove your dress. It took you a bit longer than it usually did because of all the layers that made up your dress. Once you had finally managed to remove the layers you let them pool on the ground. You stepped out of the pile, standing before Alicent fully nude. You watched Alicent take in the sight of you.

“Do I please you, Your Grace?”

Alicents throat went dry at the question. Words seemed to get stuck in her throat, not allowing her to answer you verbally. Instead she nodded her head at you, her hand moving to grip at her dress. You caught onto the action, beginning to move towards her.

“Would you like me to help you get undressed?”

Alicent looked startled for a moment and you couldn’t help but think you’d misunderstood her intentions with you. But before you could dwell on the thought for too long Alicent managed to open her mouth.

“Yes.”

The words came out in a breathy whisper, making it clear the effect your naked body had on her. You moved forward, closing the gap between the two of you. Alicent turned around so that you could unlace her dress. Your hand moved over her skin gently, causing goosebumps to appear on her arms. As her skin was revealed to you you leaned down to kiss it. The action caused Alicent to close her eyes and suck in a breath. You could feel the tense way her body shifted.

“Have you been with a woman before, Your Grace?”

“No.”

“Don’t worry, I'll be very gentle.”

Remarkably your words seemed to calm her a bit, her shoulders relaxing against your touch. Once you’d removed her clothing completely you took a step back. Alicent felt you retreat from her, her head moving to the side so she could look at you. She seemed a bit shy,a blush coating her cheeks as she felt you stare at her.

“May I see you, Your Grace?”

“Are you not already?”

You gave her a small smile.

“I mean I wish to gaze at your eyes as I look at you.”

You wanted her to turn to face you but you could tell she was still in new territory and that started her.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing I haven't seen before.”

Your words seemed to remind Alicent that this was just a job to you. There was nothing happening here that you’d consider wrong. You would not judge her, just as she did not judge you. That thought calmed her, allowing her to step into her more confident self. She turned to face, proudly displaying her body to you. Your eyes lingered on her frame, moving over her body as you took in her beauty. You moved forward once again, your hand resting on Alicents waist. She watched you sink onto your knees before her, your head tilted up so you could gaze at her.

“You’re stunning, Your Grace.”

Alicent gasped as you placed a kiss on her stomach. You wound your hands around her, your tongue moving over her skin. You rose your body slowly, kissing the valley of her breasts before moving to take her breast in your mouth. Alicents hand moved to grab onto your head as you sucked on her breast, your tongue circling around her nipple. You felt her body fall back a bit as your hands moved to caress her body. Alicent grabbed onto the dresser behind her to steady herself. You’d barely even touched her and she was already having a hard time standing. You noticed this, causing you to unlatch your lips from her chest.

“Would you like to lay down, Your Grace?”

“That might be best.”

You moved away from her making your way to the bed. Alicent watched you climb onto the bed and settle down. She eyes you curiously, not understanding what you were doing. 

“Come take a seat.”

She did as you asked, climbing onto the bed and moving to sit next to you. She gazed at your relaxed frame for a moment before looking at your face. You had a smile plastered on your face.

“Have I done something amusing?”

“You could say that.”

“Well whats so funny?”

“When i asked you to sit i didn’t mean on the bed.”

Where else would you want her to…

Oh. Oh.

Alicents eyes widened as she understood. Her face turned a deep shade of red and all you could do was keep smiling up at her. It took her a moment to gather herself. Once she did she looked at you.

“I’ve never done it that way before.”

“First time for everything isn’t there?”

She supposed you were right. A year ago she would have never imagined herself doing something like this, yet here she was. Alicent climbed onto your chest, her legs resting on either side of you. She looked down at you for guidance. You placed your hands on her thighs, holding onto her. She lifted her body a bit, inching herself up until her nose was close to touching the wall. You tugged her down onto your face.

The moment Alicent felt your tongue on her she couldn’t help but moan. You lapped at her pussy with great expertise, tongue moving  in a manner that brought Alicent great pleasure. She grabbed onto the headboard, resting her forehead on the wall as she took in small breaths. She was trying to be as quiet as possible, knowing there were guards outside, but you weren't making it easy on her. Her body moved forwards on its own, hips humping against you. The motion caused your nose to rub against her clit perfectly and in a couple minutes she was reaching her orgasm. 

Alicent's cum coated your face as she reached her high. Her body sagged slightly against you. You continued lapping up her juices until she winced and placed her hand on your head to stop you. Slowly she moved off your face. Your chest rose and fell as you tried to regain your normal breathing.

Alicent watched you with dazed eyes. Before she could totally understand what she was doing, her body began leaning down. You felt Alicent's lips come in contact with yours in a sweet kiss. You let her take control of the kiss, not wanting to overstep and upset her. She broke away from you, licking her lips to clean off the cum that had caught onto her skin. 

You watched her get off the bed, wobbly legs making their way towards the place her clothes were on the floor. You pushed yourself up, inching yourself off the bed as well. You made your way to Alicent, your arms wrapping around her waist. You felt her let out a breath as she felt your body on hers.

“Did I please you?”

“Very much.”

“I’m glad. Want help with your clothes?”

“Yes.”

You helped Alicent get dressed, making sure she looked as put together as possible. Once she was decent you moved to dress yourself. To your surprise Alicent made her way over to you. You felt her hands move against your bare skin for a moment before she leaned down to place a kiss to your shoulder. She helped you tug on your clothes. When she finished you turned to face her. She looked at you in silence, almost as if she was trying to commit your face to memory. You gave her a smile, bowing slightly before knocking on the door. The guard opened the door, his eyes catching on Alicent before looking at you.

“Ser Criston please make sure she is escorted back to the streets safely.”

The guard nodded at Alicent, moving out of your way so that you could exit. The two of you walked in silence until you reached the castle gate.

“I can make it back to town on my own.”

“Your Grace told me to company-”

“Trust me, I'm doing you a favor. My place of work is not suited for a man such as yourself.”

You gestured to his white cloak with your head. He understood your words immediately, eyes widening a bit at the implication. You merely smiled at him and turned to go on your way.

“My lady!”

You turned back to look at him.

“Yes?”

“What did Your Grace require of you?”

You gave him a small laugh.

“That's for me to know and for you to be curious about.”

You could sense the small disappointment in Cristons face.

“If you truly need to know, perhaps you should ask Alicent. I’m sure there will be no consequences.”

He could tell you were being coy so he opted to not give you an answer. He watched you turn around again and make your way out of the castle. Once you were far enough down the path towards the town Criston turned around and made his way back to Alicents quarters. He knocked on the door and waited for Alicents command for him to come in. When she gave it he opened the door, closing it behind him. His eyes found Alicents frame.

“Well? Did she say anything?”

“Not a word, Your Grace.”

“Good.”

Alicent gazed out the window, a small smile making its way to her face. You’d kept your exchange a secret, proving your loyalty to her. She’d have to keep you around. There were still many things she wanted you to teach her. 

[thistlecatfics]

Talking about Incest in Public

(both the painful traumatic kind and the hot fictional kind)

As it turns out, lots of the people who read and write taboo fiction have survived some deeply fucked up shit. After talking about incest with other survivors on the Moon, Sun & Stars discord and answering questions, I decided to share more about my experiences and the things that helped me survive and the things that helped me heal, because there are a lot of us, and a lot of us feel very alone, and maybe there are other people who aren’t incest survivors but who might want to know more to better support the survivors in their life.  

–

Incest is not just a sexual act between two family members -- it's a larger system of absence of boundaries within a family, and it's almost always part of multiple incestuous dynamics, even if only one might be the obvious or explicit dynamic. 

If you’re an incest survivor, you’re almost certainly not the only one in your family. 

-

“The true characteristics and dimensions of incestuous abuse have been masked by the taboo and silence that have surrounded its occurrence. Recent research demonstrates that incest occurs regularly in our society, perpetrated by individuals who, for the most part, would otherwise be regarded as fairly normal. The taboo on incestuous relations is a deterrent to some would-be perpetrators but not to others. The taboo contradicts the reality of incest prevalence, a fact which led Armstrong (1978) to comment that th taboo has been on the open discussion of incest and not on its perpetration.”

-Christine Courtois, “Healing the Incest Wound: Adult Survivors in Therapy” 

–

To use my family as an example - 

My (similarly aged) brother did sexual things to me as a kid, and I had a range of reactions to it including pleasure and enjoyment. And confusion. And fear. I do not think he is bad or even what he did was bad. I think we were both two kids who existed in a family with incestuous dynamics, and we were both shaped by those dynamics and trying our best to survive. 

From a young age, I existed as a physical comfort object to my mom (when she was sad she'd get into my bed to hold me until she felt better while I dissociated), and I took on the idea that my role in the family was for my body to be used to make other people feel good. The sexual behavior by my brother felt like an extension of how my mom held me. 

My mother was the victim of incest from her uncle, and her parents sided with her uncle over her when she spoke out about it (even after he was facing legal consequences for his behavior with kids outside of the family) (even after he fled the country). She didn't know how to emotionally regulate herself, and I don't think she had (or has) the capacity to understand a child's need for physical autonomy and boundaries because her own were never respected. 

There were other incestuous behaviors and dynamics within my family which I'm continuously discovering and unpacking. I think my mom’s uncle abused my grandmother too but I’ll never know for sure. It’s deeply uncomfortable to look back on a happy family story or a childhood nickname and see something sinister underneath and wonder if you’re being paranoid or if it’s actually that bad.  

–

Things that have helped: 

Long term relational therapy (5+ years). EMDR. Adopting a cat. Adopting more cats. Antidepressants. Reading about incest (realistic, terrifying, academic). Reading about incest (fictional, hot, amateur). Being a competitive athlete. Getting a graduate degree. Going on long walks late at night. Telling my family I had Covid so I could skip a family vacation. 

These books specifically: Healing the Incest Wound by Christine Courtois, The Myth of Normal, Dissociation Made Simple, Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, The Narcissistic Family Unit, Clementine Morrigan’s writing x1000. 

The protector parts: Eating disorder. Self harm. Drinking. Perfectionism. Depression. Suicidal ideation. I’m grateful to these imperfect protectors I’ve leaned on over the years. 

Things that have not helped: 

You will be shocked to hear that people on the internet yelling about how people who find fictional incest hot are disgusting and bad and dangerous did NOT in fact help me unlearn the belief that experiencing incest made me disgusting and bad and dangerous. Luckily, I’m built of spite. But it certainly did not help. 

(If I think about my vulnerable pre-teen/teen self reading those things, I become deeply angry. How dare you hurt her in the name of protection.)

- I don’t cater to all these vipers Dressed in empath’s clothing God save the most judgmental creeps Who say they want what’s best for me Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I’ll never see

-Taylor Swift, But Daddy I Love Him

-

After I discovered fanfiction in middle school, and then after I realized that there was a world beyond OFC/Draco Malfoy fic, I read a lot of Blackcest. I devoured any I could find, hopping through rec lists on LiveJournal. 

Reading Blackcest fics, first Bellatrix/Sirius then Sirius/Regulus mostly, allowed me to see my experiences reflected. Those fics gave me a way to contextualize my family and my role in it. I hate the expectation that kids who experience bad things should go to a safe trusted adult rather than find art that romanticizes their experience. The whole point is that there isn’t a safe trusted adult. The whole point is that I needed the art. I got to hold the romanticized narrative until I got far enough away that I could put it away in a box until I had enough therapy that I could safely open the box and build a new, more honest story. 

Obviously plenty of people love incest smut and fic and art. It’s taboo! It’s angsty! It’s a classic! Probably most of those people don’t have direct personal experience with incest in their families. I’m glad they read and write fics too. 

But for me – have you ever experienced something you believe so strongly you will never be able to say aloud? That any time you see your secret referenced it’s in shock and disgust and revulsion? You can pretend – you’re very good at pretending – but you know it’s real, and you know it’s your secret you’ll hold onto for the rest of your life while the world reminds you how disgusting you are? 

Then you find that people are writing about what you experienced in a thousand variations that all contain some nugget of your truth.

I cannot express in words how important it was that I found those stories at that time. 

I never commented on a single fic. I never made a single account on any of the sites I read fanfiction on. I clicked the “yes I’m 18” box without hesitation every time. I wish I could go back in time and have my adult self articulate the enormity of my gratitude for each and every author who helped save me whose work exists on sites I can only revisit with the Wayback Machine. 

I understand why people might feel horrified at the idea of a 11-12 year old reading smutty incest Harry Potter fanfic. People aren’t wrong for feeling that way. 

That said, I truly don’t care what people who aren’t incest survivors think.

I’m so proud of that child for finding a way to survive. She might have hated herself, might have fantasized about death, but she survived and kept the truth of her experience wrapped up in a fictional world where it could be safe to explore and kept it there until years and years of therapy made it possible to engage with it in reality. 

- I’m a real tough kid I can handle my shit They said, babe, you got to fake it till you make it And I did

-Taylor Swift, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart -

No one is writing about incest the way Clementine Morrigan is right now. I’m so grateful for her. I’m not sure this little tumblr post would exist without her essay series. 

"Incest functions as a spell of unreality. A structure of nothingness. A completely normal and unremarkable family life in which something unnameable is ominously and terrifyingly wrong. You know in the summer when you can see the heat making the air go squiggly? Imagine those squiggles as an indication that in the seeming nothingness, there is something there. Incest is like that. Subtle, pervasive, unthinkable, unnameable. But present, felt.

As a teenager I came up with this metaphor: Imagine you are in a house full of bugs. There are bugs crawling all over all the walls and all the furniture and in your food and even on the fork you are lifting to your mouth. And you feel disgusted, you feel like something is really wrong. But your whole family is acting completely normal, laughing and eating and talking as bugs crawl over their faces and into their mouths. When you tell them you think there are bugs in your food your family says it’s just pepper and not to worry about it.

There is no way to talk about incest without feeling that you are lying. This is because incest lives in the realm of unreality and everything in the realm of unreality cannot be thought or said or named. When you speak of things that happen in the realm of unreality it will always feel like a lie and be treated like a lie. You are breaking the fundamental rule. You are not allowed to talk about what goes on in the realm of unreality because it isn’t real."

Read more and pay for her writing if you can on her substack.

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Without a doubt, the not-explicitly-sexual incest from my mom fucked me up more than the explicitly sexual incest from my brother, but I only feel confident claiming the incest survivor label because sexual stuff was done to me by a family member, and I still feel like I’m lying sometimes because it wasn't bad enough to count. 

I’m a literal mental health clinician who can map out various incestuous dynamics within my family and who has clear memories of a family member doing sexual stuff to my child body, and I still feel like I’m lying. 

I believe you if you feel like a liar because I bet you do. I believe you if the incest never included anything directly physical. I believe you if you enjoyed it. I believe you if you don’t remember but feel like it’s true. 

I love us. 

If we’re monsters, I love our courageous monstrosity.

If we’re liars, I love the way we make up stories to survive when reality is impossible. 

If we’re an uncomfortable truth, good. 

-

It still impacts me. I’m not over it. 

It’s very difficult for me to imagine love that does not include violation. To be loved and to be allowed to maintain a self. 

But I’m open to learning otherwise, and that openness is new. 

-

I was so, so good at living in unreality. I could make myself perfect, such a flawless object until I couldn’t think of anything except killing myself, but even then I still maintained the image of perfection my family expected. 

It’s cool I never actually killed myself. 

I find it hard to be around my family now. There are advantages of living in unreality. I drink a lot more when I’m around my family than I ever did before, but I don’t think about killing myself nearly as much. Reality is worth it. Being able to exist as a person is worth it. 

- I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

-Sylvia Plath

- I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. (I insist.)

It didn’t kill me then. It’s not going to kill me now. (I remind myself.) 

My life is worth living, and there are fights worth fighting, and it is undeniably true the world is full of horror, but it is good to write and create and be alive, and it is good to try. I’m a little afraid to post this, but the fear and shame isn’t mine to hold, and I never should have been the one holding it. 

Consider this a thank you note sent out to the universe in the hopes the sentiment echoes towards those authors who saved me then and to all the writers who are saving people now. Your art matters. No matter how weird or niche or dismissed or hated it is. It matters. 

Thank you.