#and of course our most recent release

[mariocki]

Peter Wyngarde guest stars as Dr. John Hallam, eminent physician - but also criminal mastermind - in The Champions: The Invisible Man (1.2, ITC, 1968)

[rafedarling]

𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

request: open

pairing: drew starkey x actress!reader

summary: new parents and beloved hollywood couple drew and you take to the jimmy kimmel live stage to discuss your latest movie project together, which releases in may. between balancing new parenthood and demanding film schedules, you two finds yourself sharing a funny, heartfelt stories about life on set with their baby girl, emma starkey. a viral behind-the-scenes video brings laughter to the show, as you discuss how parenting has influenced your lives and careers. based on today drew interview on jimmy kimmel live interview.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, humorous parenting moments, discussions of balancing work and family life.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy

gif: rafedarling

“Ladies and gentlemen, our next guests are not only Hollywood’s favorite power couple but also the stars of the highly anticipated romantic-action film Against All Odds, which hits theaters this May. And if that’s not enough, they’ve recently stepped into the chaotic world of parenthood with their baby girl, Emma. Please welcome Drew Starkey and Y/N!”

You can hear the audience roared with applause as Jimmy Kimmel welcomed his next guests.

You and Drew walked out hand in hand, smiling and waving to the audience. Drew’s free hand rested on your back as he guided you to the guest couch. The applause was deafening, with some cheers and whistles peppered in. You laughed as Jimmy gestured to quiet the audience.

“Wow,” Jimmy said, shaking his head.

“You guys have the crowd in a frenzy. I mean, Hollywood’s hottest couple and now officially parents? Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at the crowd. “It’s been a crazy year.”

“Yeah,” Drew chimed in, “between the movie and the baby, I’m not even sure what sleep feels like anymore.”

The audience laughed, and Jimmy leaned forward.

“Okay, we have to start with the most important question: How’s parenthood treating you? You’ve got a baby girl, Emma. How’s life with a newborn?”

Drew chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s… humbling, to say the least. Being a first-time parent is no joke. I don’t think I could survive it without this one,” he said, nodding toward you.

You playfully nudged him. “Oh, stop it. You’re doing great.”

Jimmy smiled. “Okay, Y/N, your turn. How’s life as a mom?”

“It’s amazing,” you said, your voice softening.

“I mean, it’s exhausting, but Emma’s such a sweet baby. Watching her grow and discover the world makes all the sleepless nights worth it.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “Sleepless nights? Drew, are you pulling your weight with those 3 a.m. feedings and diaper changes?”

Drew grinned, holding up his hands defensively.

“Absolutely. I’ve mastered the art of the one-handed diaper change. My record is forty-three seconds.”

The audience erupted in laughter, and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s not lying. But let’s not forget the time you forgot to put the diaper on at all.”

The crowd gasped with laughter as Drew shook his head, groaning.

“Okay, in my defense, I was running on two hours of sleep. And the burp cloth worked just fine… temporarily.”

Jimmy laughed, slapping the desk. “You’re officially a dad now, Drew. Forgetting a diaper is like a rite of passage.”

Drew nodded solemnly. “It’s a learning curve.”

Jimmy turned his attention back to you. “Now, let’s talk about Against All Odds. The trailer has everyone excited. What can you tell us about the movie?”

You leaned forward slightly.

“It’s a romantic-action film about two rival spies played by Drew and me who are forced to work together on a mission to stop a global threat. Of course, things get complicated when they realize they have a shared past.”

“Ah, a little romance, a little action,” Jimmy said. “And a lot of explosions, I’m guessing?”

“Definitely,” Drew said.

“The stunts in this film are insane. We’ve got car chases, hand-to-hand combat, and this one sequence where Y/N literally jumps out of a helicopter.”

The audience gasped, and Jimmy’s jaw dropped.

“Wait, wait. You’re telling me Y/N did her own stunts?”

You shrugged with a smile. “Most of them, yeah. The helicopter scene was terrifying, but the adrenaline rush was worth it.”

Jimmy turned to Drew. “And how did you feel about your wife jumping out of a helicopter while pregnant?”

“Oh, that scene was filmed before we knew about Emma,” Drew said quickly.

“But I still worried about her constantly. Every time she’d do a stunt, I’d be off to the side like, ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’”

You laughed. “He was basically my personal cheerleader-slash-bodyguard.”

Jimmy shook his head, smiling. “And Y/N, how was filming while pregnant? Did the crew make accommodations for you?”

“They were amazing,” you said.

“They adjusted the schedule so that I could rest when I needed to, and they made sure I always had plenty of snacks on set.”

“Snacks were essential,” Drew added. “She had a bag of trail mix with her at all times.”

Jimmy laughed. “It sounds like the two of you had a lot going on behind the scenes. Speaking of which, I have to ask about the viral video. You know the one.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. Drew laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh no. You’re not really going to show it, are you?”

“Of course I am!” Jimmy said, grinning.

“For anyone who hasn’t seen it, this is a behind-the-scenes video of Drew and Y/N on set. Drew’s building a baby crib, and Y/N is… well, just watch.”

The screen infront and behind you lit up with the video. The audience howled as they watched Drew hammering away at a crib while you sat on a couch with a breast pump. The rhythmic “whirr, whirr” of the pump provided the perfect comedic soundtrack as Drew worked intently. At one point, you casually scrolled through your phone, looking completely unbothered.

When the video ended, the audience erupted into cheers and laughter. Jimmy was wiping tears from his eyes.

“So my question is… is this what you do on set?”

“Well,” Drew said, still chuckling, “Emma needed a crib, and we didn’t have one on set. So, naturally, I decided to build one during a break.”

“And I,” you added with a grin, “was taking care of my part of the parenting duties. Multitasking at its finest.”

Jimmy shook his head, laughing.

“You two are the epitome of modern parenthood. Drew, do you moonlight as a carpenter now?”

Drew smirked. “Not yet, but give me a few more months of parenting, and I’ll be building treehouses.”

The audience laughed again, and Jimmy leaned back in his chair.

“Okay, last question: How do you balance it all? Filming, parenting, being a couple; what’s the secret?”

You exchanged a glance with Drew before answering.

“Honestly, communication is everything. We make sure to check in with each other and divide responsibilities as evenly as possible.”

“And coffee,” Drew added. “Lots of coffee.”

Jimmy nodded sagely. “Coffee and communication. Words to live by.”

The interview wrapped up with more laughs, and even a clip from Against All Odds. As the applause filled the studio, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the life you and Drew had built on and off the screen. together.

[omgellendean]

So, Sacha Baron Cohen recently endorsed Kamala Harris in a fittingly racist islamophobic manner, by bringing back his character Borat. Yes, it's 2024.

Anyway, here's a 2022 investigation of SBC's vile Zionism and connections to the USA and Israeli intelligence, as well as an insight into the role of the US-American cinema as a propaganda tool.

Article: https://www.mintpressnews.com/closer-scrutiny-reveals-close-state-power-sacha-baron-cohen-really/279355/

Archived link: https://archive.is/7dSTL

Some quotes:

When asked about the national security state’s role in shaping pop culture, the former intelligence officer [John Kiriakou] said that it is “far more cynical” than most people realize, explaining:

” There is a branch inside the CIA’s Office Of Public Affairs whose job is solely to work with Hollywood Studios. This is something that the FBI has been doing since the 1940s. They’ll cooperate and give the red carpet treatment to any Hollywood studio that’s willing to make the CIA look good. “ [...]

In the end, “Brüno’s” production company did interview someone they claimed was a terrorist (in the Letterman interview, Baron Cohen described the man as such eight times in the space of three minutes). However, the person in question – Palestinian grocer and NGO worker Ayman Abu Aita – vigorously denied he was a terrorist at all. He claimed that Baron Cohen had told him the interview would be about his peace activism and that his life and business had been destroyed as a result. Abu Aita sued for nearly $100 million. The case was settled for an undisclosed sum in 2012. [...]

Even from an early age, Sacha was reportedly obsessed with the Jewish state. “He was very Zionist, very involved in Habo,” recalled one friend, referring to Habonim Dror, a left-wing Zionist group of which he was a member. Others remembered him as “a very nerdy, very funny, Israel-oriented guy” who went to live on a kibbutz in his youth. He appears to idolize Shimon Peres, traveling to meet him in 2012 and sharing quotes from the former Israeli president on his social media accounts. Peres, of course, oversaw the genocide of Palestinians in 1948, attempted to sell nuclear weapons to Apartheid South Africa, and carried out the ethnic cleansing of the Galilee region. [...]

Unsurprisingly, Baron Cohen has also campaigned fiercely against the Boycott Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement, presenting it as viciously antisemitic. “Boycotting? Yeah, fantastic. As long as they are Jews, it is alright. I’m not a racist, but keep the Jews out,” he said, in an attempt to satirize their position. [...]

Much of the movie is actually spent “on location” in “Kazakhstan,” where Borat takes the viewer around an unimaginably poor-looking village, making fun of how backward “his people” are. There are no Western egos or ignorance being punctured here. In fact, it was shot in a gypsy encampment in Romania, where locals were paid around $3 each to be humiliated by a man who spoke to them in a language they did not understand. The villagers were told they were appearing in a sympathetic documentary highlighting their lives. “Borat” made over $262 million at the box office. [...]

The racism was further amplified with the 2020 release of “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm.” Within the first two minutes of the sequel, Borat informs us that Kazakhstan has canceled their traditional event, “the running of the Jew,” but fortunately his country still has Holocaust Remembrance Day, “when we commemorate our heroic soldiers who ran the camps.” Borat also received an award, which he stated will be “put in our national museum along with other treasure we have confiscated from Jews.” [...]

In actual fact, as many have pointed out, Kazakhstan was a haven for Jewish people during the Holocaust, not a perpetrator of it, saving thousands of Jewish lives by taking in people from Eastern Europe and other states of the U.S.S.R. Today, the country is commended by Jewish groups as a model of tolerance. It is also, notably, not a helplessly sexist nation; Save The Children ranked it higher than the United States in its list of best countries to grow up female.

This is a rather inconvenient truth for the Israeli state-building project Baron Cohen supports. Ironically, perhaps the most shocking and newsworthy case of exposing bigotry Baron Cohen has documented has never been revealed. While in character as Brüno in Jerusalem, Baron Cohen was beaten nearly to death by an enraged crowd of homophobic Israelis, who, angered by his camp and sacrilegious attire, started stoning him, on camera. Baron Cohen was reportedly “nearly killed.” Kiriakou told MintPress that Baron Cohen told him that a rabbi even spat on him. It was the only time in his career that he broke character and desperately yelled that he was an Israeli Jew, not a homosexual foreigner. The comedian fled for his life and found refuge in a nearby store bathroom. This footage has never seen the light of day. Perhaps it sends the “wrong” message.

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession (Part 3)

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Alicent’s idea of a procession to gain support for their wounded King, has quite the opposite effect. The smallfolk swam them, knocking the attending members of the royal family from their carriage and down onto the streets with them.

The Dowager Queen clings to Helaena and her daughter by law. With gold cloaks of the city watch forcing the crowd away from them. Making a path back toward the Keep.

Chérie watches in horror as it unfolds, amongst the sea of people, she spots a familiar face. One of Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting. “Elinda?”

“Chérie?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to deliver a message to Princess Y/N, from Queen Rhaenyra.”

“May the gods be with you,” Chérie remarks.

“Where is she?” Elinda asks.

Chérie points toward the center of the mob. Alicent, Helaena and Y/N covered by guards attempting to protect them. “There.”

“Give us the Queen!”

“We want the Queen.”

“Back, all of you!” The guards demand, preparing to draw their swords.

Y/N tries to step forward, give the people what they want.

“Y/N,” Alicent keeps a firm hold on her, shaking her head. “It is not worth the risk.”

“You drug me away from my husband’s sick bed for our people to see me.” Y/N reminds her. “Let them see me.”

Alicent releases her, against her better judgment.

The mass of commoners threaten to engulf the Queen, with the banner of house Targaryen held proudly in their midst. “We want meat.”

“The King makes false promises!”

“You feast in your castle as we starve!”

The shouting builds to a crescendo.

“Do you want my help, or simply to hurl insults at the crown?” Y/N waits until they fall silent before she continues. “Before the King’s coronation, I was told the realm would never accept a ruling Queen. I heard this same sentiment recently, as my lord husband returned from battle, grievously injured. Yet you raise my mother’s banner in my husband’s streets.” Y/N says, loud enough for all to hear. “War is a terrible thing, that costs us all that which we love. It drives a wedge between our houses, makes fools of us all.”

“Stop the war!”

“End the blockade!”

Y/N hesitates, “I have no more agency over that than any of you, I fear. But I believe, as I know my husband does, that our victory relies on the smallfolk. We take to the woods, this day. We will hunt for our meat and we shall feast upon it together.”

The smallfolk murmur to each other.

“Most of you are not trained for the hunt, to which I say, neither am I. But we must stand together, not tear ourselves apart. We are one people, we are one heart.”

Slowly, the townsfolk begin voicing their approval.

“Take to your houses,” Y/N instructs, “gather your weapons and join me at the gates. They will open for us or we will break them down!”

“If you want a word with the Queen, now is your chance.” Chérie whispers.

“And you?”

“I must stand watch over his grace, until her return. After what I have learned this day…he mustn’t be alone.”

The mob cheers as they disband, knocking Chérie and Elinda apart.

Alicent rushes Helaena inside as Y/N heads for the gates.

“She should not be alone.” Helaena says.

“No, she shouldn’t.” Alicent presses cups her daughter’s face in her hands. “Ser Criston.” She calls.

“Your grace,” he stands at the ready.

“You are to accompany the Queen on this venture.” She tells him. “Y/N is not to be out of your sight, no harm must come to her.”

“Of course, your grace.” Cole nods, excusing himself to meet the Queen at the gates. They remain closed as commoners fall in line behind her, pushing at one another as she fights her way to the forefront.

“Where is it you think you’re going?” Aemond asks his niece.

“To give our people meat.” Y/N sneers, spotting her husband’s dagger on his hip. Without hesitation she reaches across, staring him dead in the eye as she yanks the blade free of its sheath. “You are welcome to join us.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side, knowing he has the final say in directing the King’s guard, “open the gates.”

————————————————————————

When Daemon receives Rhaenyra’s letter, detailing her plan to secure Y/N’s safe passage from King’s Landing to Dragonstone, he believes it is a terrible idea.

What they need is for her to hold the throne, the moment she abandons it, any claim Rhaenyra or Aegon holds over it will be lost to the Prince Regent. He knows better than anyone that the realm will suffer if Aemond, one eye, rules.

Instead he plans to enlist help of his own to secure his grandchildren’s safety. With Y/N and Aemond out roaming the woods, taking over half the King’s guard with them, he finds his opportunity.

Whistling through the gates to one of the white cloaks, who harbors a strong dislike of the Hightowers. The man abandons his post, meeting Daemon at the bars.

“How would you like to make a year’s worth of gold in an hour?”

Blood swallows harshly, “what would you have me do?”

“You can start by opening the fucking gate.”

The man does as he’s told.

“Follow me.” Daemon leads him down the alleyway to another man, whom he calls Cheese. “This is an old friend of mine, tonight he’s going to be your friend.” Daemon tosses them each a sack of gold.

“You said a year’s worth.”

“Half now, half when the job is done.”

Blood and Cheese count their bags of coin before nodding their agreement.

“What I need of you is simple. Enter the castle, find my grandson, Aegon.”

“The King?”

“Prince Aegon. He is a babe with dark hair.” With his father incapacitated, they have a good shot at it. “If you cannot retrieve him safely, leave.”

“Is that all?”

“Be sure to scare the seven hells out of the maids while you’re at it. But you are not to cause harm. This is a ploy to increase protection of the Queen’s heirs. Nothing more.”

“What is it they need protecting from?” Cheese wonders.

“Do you want the job or not?” Daemon snaps.

“Y-yes.”

“I will be waiting to collect him at the north gate.” The prince informs them. “You have one hour.”

————————————————————————-

“Disperse and take your share, all of you.” Aemond gives the smallfolk his blessing. They scatter in all directions, desperate and searching.

Y/N sets off with a pack of them into the east woods. Cole follows.

Aemond stays with the masses, showing his good faith. Hoping to win back their support of his claim.

Y/N is the first to spot a deer, running from them, “just there.” She sets off toward is. “Who wants it?”

“I, your grace.” A man with silver, gray hair marches toward it.

“Very well!” Y/N praises, “everyone come round, be sure it does not escape.”

“Together, now.”

They take the first, with some difficulty. Each to follow becomes easier.

Aemond makes his kills alone, happening upon the group eventually. Just in time to see the gleam of the White Hart, watching on from a safe distance. Willing him to slain it, prove himself once and for all, as Y/N toils in servitude of the smallfolk.

“Your grace!” One of the men yell, pointing to the stag. “For you.”

“For us,” Y/N pats his shoulder before hiking up her ruined skirts, “for us.”

“For us!”

Aemond draws his sword, spooking the animal into hiding.

The Queen’s eyes widen.

“May the beast be slain by the true heir, as a sign of good faith.” He says, taking off in search of it.

Y/N runs after him.

“My Queen!”

“Stay with the Queen!”

She chases Aemond deeper into the woods, but the stag cannot be found.

In an instant, Aemond turns on his heels. Leaving the end of his blade pointed at Y/N’s belly.

She flinches as his sword grazes her cheek on it’s upward swing.

Aemond smirks, watching the blood bead on her skin as her eyes well with tears. “Behind you.”

The stag bolts away.

“Aemond!” Ser Criston calls.

The Prince Regent sheathes his sword. “It got away.”

Y/N’s knees buckle, she does not fight as she falls to the ground. It was him. He who would sooner shroud his brother in dragon fire than fight at his side. He who jumped the line of succession to turn the war in his favor.

“Your grace,” Cole moves to her as Aemond retreats. “You’re injured.”

Y/N holds a hand up between them.

“Let me help you stand.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, “each time I stand I am struck down.”

“Because you keep rising.” Cole tells her. “You know, I may not have fathered them, but I raised both Aegon and Aemond as my own. He would not want to see you this way.”

“He may never see me again.”

“I do not believe that is true.” Ser Criston sighs, “so long as you live, he will find a way. My responsibility to Aegon now lies in ensuring he has something to wake up to.” He says, pointedly. “You have not made it an easy task.”

“I overheard you call my mother a spoiled cunt once.” Y/N scrubs a hand over her face, “be forewarned, I am worse.”

Despite himself, Cole smiles. Something just beyond her catching his eye. “My Queen.”

She follows the direction of his finger.

“This will be the sign we all desperately need, they would fall in line behind you. There will be no further question.”

The White Hart stares back at her, unblinking. “Have you come to die for me too?” She pushes up to her feet, flashing the blade before the animal’s eyes in warning. But the stag comes closer, she strokes its bowed head, plunging the dagger clean into its heart, allowing the stag to collapse onto her. Rocking the creature as best she can. “Thank you for all you have done for me. Your sacrifice is not in vain.”

Cole carries the slain stag behind Y/N, trudging through the forest, covered in its blood. The smallfolk know what this means. There is no need for a Prince Regent, they have a Queen.

Aemond nods. She’s won the battle, but he’ll win the war.

————————————————————————-

With the smallfolk contented, Y/N retires to her rooms, allowing the bath water to soothe her muscles and her mind. Chérie is still about, therefore the Queen allows another of her ladies to scrub the dirt and blood from her skin.

“It is done, my Queen.” Livia nods, “should you like a towel, or to soak a while longer?”

“The water is filthy,” Y/N murmurs.

“We might draw you a new bath, your grace.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “Just the towel please.”

“At once, your grace.” She reaches for the plush cream fabric, holding it open for her majesty.

Y/N wraps herself in it, as her hair is rung out over the tub.

“Are you thinking of braids, your grace?”

No. Not in the least. “You may leave it hang.”

“Are you certain?” Livia blinks at her.

“Yes, help me dress in my nightgown, please. I am quite exhausted.”

Livia nods, scurrying to the dressing area and returning with a pale purple gown. “Is this to your liking, my Queen?”

Y/N smiles, “it is lovely. Thank you.���

The woman returns the gesture.

“You needn’t always address me so formally when we are alone. I wish for us to be friends.”

“A Queen is not expected to be friends with her servants.” Livia says, “my mother has served the dowager Queen Alicent for many years.”

“My mother was always kind to her ladies.” Y/N tells her. “That is the Queen I hope to be.”

Livia nods, easing the material over the Queen’s head, followed quickly by her robe. “I should like that very much.”

“I understand how difficult it can be, taking on a new role without knowing what’s expected of you. If you’ve questions, please voice them to me, I am more than happy to answer.”

“I have heard whispers from other ladies…that Chérie joins you and the King in your bed.” Livia stammers, “you are both very lovely, your grace, but I would not know how-”

“Oh no,” Y/N huffs a laugh. “Livia, that will never be asked of you. Chérie is very dear to the King and I, but that is not a task expected of my ladies.”

“Forgive me for assuming.”

“It’s quite alright, I am glad to clear the air between us. I would hate for you to be nervous in my presence over a misunderstanding.”

Livia exhales, “thank you for being so kind.”

Y/N takes her hand, “of course.”

“Y/N,” Chérie pants, having rushed past the guards. “It’s Aegon.”

Y/N moves, as if in slow motion, taking the bloodied dagger from the floor. Down the hall, to her husband’s rooms, shoving open the door.

“You’re hurt.” He says, taking in the sight of her, freshly dressed, hair still dripping from the bath.

She gawks at him. Willing her legs to move and dropping to her knees at the side of his bed, casting the weapon aside. Y/N rests her cheek against the coverlet, not daring to touch him.

Carefully he reaches for her, feeling the charred skin of his chest pull as his hand passes over her hair.

“I thought you were dead,” Y/N whispers. “Chérie rushed me out of my rooms to you. I thought you were dead.” She sobs, violently enough that any shred of anger Aegon harbors for the disregard of her own safety is forgotten.

“I’m going to look in on the children.” Chérie excuses herself.

Aegon whispers, as the doors close, “come round this side.”

“I can’t.” Y/N struggles to draw breath, shuttering as she does.

“I wish to hold you.”

“I will hurt you.”

“Hearing you sob on the floor, while I am no more than a foot away, is worse than any pain I am in. Let me comfort you.” Aegon insists, “please.”

Y/N stands, climbing carefully onto the bed, lying her head on the pillow beside his.

Aegon’s neck aches as he turns his head to face her, left eye swollen shut.

“I do not see where it is safe to touch you,” Y/N admits. The unmarred half of his face now rests against the pillow.

“Rest your head upon my shoulder.” Aegon sighs, “but let me look at you first.” He’s just taken milk of the poppy, enough to dull the sharp edge of pain.

“I am a mess.” Y/N lets out a watery laugh, dragging the back of her hand over her face, mindful of her graze.

“You are beautiful,” Aegon half smiles. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Y/N sucks in a breath, “the small council appointed Aemond as Prince Regent. The smallfolk were discontented in their hunger, I took them to hunt. I happened across a white stag and followed it into the woods. Aemond as well. He drew his sword once we were far enough out though Cole found us before anything happened. I think he meant to kill me.”

Aegon swallows, “you must stay away from Aemond, do you understand?”

Y/N nods.

“When I am well enough-”

“Has he done this to you?” Y/N needs to hear it plainly.

“Sunfyre and Meyles were locked together. There is no way of knowing what his intentions were, but it was Aemond who gave the command.” Dracarys.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You cannot.”

Y/N begins to protest.

“Listen to me now.” Aegon presses on, “I want you out of King’s Landing. I want our children out.”

“No, I will not leave you.”

“Go to your mother on Dragonstone.”

“No.”

“Shh,” Aegon gentles her. “I need you to hear what I am saying to you. This is the only way she can take back the throne. She wants Aemond’s head more than any. It will ensure your safety and the kill. I hate being parted as much as you do, but I cannot protect you here.”

“Who will protect you if I go?”

“My mother.”

“She would stand against Aemond, if it comes to it?” Y/N challenges.

“I do not want you here if it comes to that.”

“Why?”

“I will not have you stand between me and a blade. I will not allow you to be harmed or mistreated. I will protect you and our children at any cost.” Aegon says.

“The White Hart appeared for me,” Y/N is sure of it. “It fled from Aemond, returned for me and I killed it. For you, for our house and our people. I am not weak.”

“My concern is not because you are weak.” Aegon tells her, “at present, you are the largest threat to Aemond. He could end me now with a pillow held over my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen.

“I jest, I jest.”

“I will do it myself if you dare say that again.”

He chuckles, “ah!” The movement is horribly painful. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I promised the girls they could come visit you.” Y/N tells him, lowering her head to his shoulder.

“Are you certain that’s a good idea?” Aegon nuzzles against the top of her head. “They should not have to see me this way.”

Y/N sighs, “you are their father. They love you no matter what.”

“And you?” Aegon whispers, “you would have me still? They say I may never walk again.”

Y/N pulls away to stare at him with furrowed brows. “Aegon, of course I will have you. I love you.”

“I know that you love me.” Same as he would love her with roles reversed, “but will you…desire me? As your husband?”

Y/N presses her lips to his, oh so gently. “Of course. When you have recovered, we shall make up for lost time.”

Again he nods, not entirely convinced. “I should like that very much.”

“I speak true, husband.” Y/N insists. “Surely my body is different now than it was before our babes and you desire me still, do you not?”

“I desire you more.”

“We’re going to grow old together, you and I. In which time we will both surely change, that is the way of things.”

“Your grace!” Chérie calls, rapping her fist against the door.

“Come,” Y/N wills her.

The woman charges in, clearly distraught. “My Queen,” she says, without realizing Aegon is still lucid. The maesters warned his moments of waking will be few and far between. “Something awful has happened.”

“What is it?” Y/N springs from the bed.

“Prince Aegon…he’s been taken.”

“Taken where?” Y/N demands.

“I cannot say, the maids reported two men in hoods. They came with knives, threatened them and took the babe.”

“Bring us Dahlia, Visera and Laenor.” Aegon insists. “Send in the guards, they are to tear apart the Red Keep until my son is found.”

“Of course, my King.” Chérie bows.

Y/N steals the abandoned dagger, making for the door.

“Where are you going?” Aegon calls after her.

“To kill your brother.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark @lovelyteenagebeard @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @callsignwidow @hyde-jpg @novelswithariana @klutzylaena @ynbutbetter @ravenqueen27 @danart501

[ozzgin]

Some more dick-related brain rot…😘

We take the self serve dick bar and use monsters for the monster hotel. We are going to have that full “continental breakfast.” So we have a forest entity cumming maple syrup, a Minotaur cumming milk/creme, a yeti who cums slushies, a slime who cums various jams depending on whatever fruit we feed it, and any more monsters who we can utilize ☺️

When you were talking about your rats, it made me think of some rat-hybrid monster where reader can steer him via. his dick, like a reverse Ratatouille scenario 🐀

Having a robot/android partner, I could use his dick as a literal joy stick when playing video games. Also, if I have to charge robot/android, do you think his dick acts like a giant extension cord I could just plug into the outlet in the wall? Also does that mean he technically “eats” with his dick? I assume when traveling with him internationally, I gotta get a lot of compatible adapters so he can get plugged in successfully🕹️

A Hydra monster would be kinda funny to have sex with, cause maybe if you cut its “head” down south, two more will grow back 🤔

I think that’s all for now. Tell your man that he is very much appreciated, and it’s nice he’s in this club of debauchery 😉

-👘

This amount of thirst and depravity is exactly what the monster guests would come up with just to have Reader employee touch them. 😭 Content: gender neutral reader, rancid NSFW!!! (more white sauce I’m afraid), monster smut

The latest fad your centaur manager has been into is food cooked with bodily fluids. This has had several implications, all of them regrettably involving you.

While the idea has been gripping at his mind like a great plague, he can't possibly ask you to just...let go over his breakfast toast. He can already see how exhausted you return after being used by the starved guests. They stuff you just enough for you to wonder if you'll survive it, then make sure to clean up their mess, politely aiding your speedy recovery, almost as if they weren't the cause of destruction to begin with. The manager has heard it one too many times that your nether regions are numb from all the monstrous tongues and appendages.

Maybe a change of scenery will help.

"Kitchen staff? I thought I'm supposed to clean the rooms", you inquire, somewhat confused by the sudden proposal.

"It's not quite...kitchen duties, per se. We need someone to help with the hotel's breakfast. We have a new experimental menu, though not enough...hands."

You should've expected it. How bad could it possibly be, you told yourself, pouring some orange juice for the seated guests? You had your first suspicions from the big, flashy sign now propped outside the room: service provided by our esteemed and loved human employee. You didn't need to ponder much on its meaning. Once inside, your task became painfully clear. You were to milk the guests for the required ingredients.

Having their way with you is a treat in itself, but seeing you struggle with your small, human hands, trying to figure them out? Priceless. Well, for them, anyways. Despite your protests, you have left your morning shifts with a ridiculous number of tips. Maybe it's the way you look up through your lashes as you explain: "Of course I know your weak spot. You're one of my- our regulars." Or maybe it's the way you tease your favorites, wondering out loud, with a grin, if you should have some of the generous release for your own lunch later.

Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. The centaur head manager recently made the sheepish suggestion of having you at the receiving end of this new service, trying his best to sound convincing, and hiding the fact it’s been his most ardent wish for the past couple of weeks. Maybe he will get his breakfast topping, after all.

[Monster Hotel] | [More Monsters]

[undaughtered]

hi! i was interested in a topic and i realized you were probably one of the better people to ask. what resources would you recommend for studying the impact of christianity on sex and sexuality?

the oxford handbook of theology, sexuality,and gender is invaluable, but i'm unsure if there has been a new edition since 2014.

historical texts: if you are an absolute beginner, the chapter sexuality in christian traditions by adrian thatcher, in the cambridge world history of sexualities: volume ii is a good, solid overview. additionally: contextualizing gender in early christian discourse by caroline stichele and todd penner. christianity and sexuality in the early modern world by merry wiesner-hanks, sexual desire and love: origins and history of the christian ethic of sexuality and marriage by erich fuchs.

critical + liberation theology: god, sexuality and the self by sarah coakley, touching our strength by carter heyward, indecent theology by marcella althaus-reid, why women need the goddess by carol christ, sexuality and the black church: a womanist perspetive by kelly b douglas, enfleshing freedom: body, race, and being by m. shawn copeland, postcolonial imagination and feminist theology by kwok pui-lan, queering christ: beyond act up by robert e. goss, the good news of the body edited by lisa isherwood, theology and sexuality by susanna cornwall, queer theologies: the basics by chris greenough, our lives: a womanist queer theology by pamela r lightsey.

critical issues in sexuality: the making of biblical womanhood by beth allision barr, #churchtoo: how purity culture upholds abuse and how to find healing by emily joy allison, the cry of tamar by pamela cooper-white (NB: don't know why google books doesn't have the most recent second edition), jesus and john wayne by kristin du mez, catholic sexual theology and adolescent girls by doris m kieser, black gay british christian queer by jarel-robinson brown.

additionally, am extremely excited about the release of lower than the angels by diarmaid macculloch in april: i would keep an eye out for its release and try to read it if you can, as i suspect it's going to be an excellent, critical historical overview.

there are, of course, gaps in my recs, but everything i recommend here i consider essentially introductory. you'll find some of this work is focused more on gender, but we cannot discuss sexuality without also discussing gender; additionally, the majority of non-white theologies (womanist, east asian, indigenous) are engaging with gender rather than sexuality at this point in their respective developments.

[semischarmed]

Hunter, Part 2

In the past few days, you’ve turned your neighbor into your own hedonistic puppet. Hunter’s major life changes were a shock to friends and family alike, but they were ultimately supportive as they helped you, his “new boyfriend”, move into your new apartment together. It only turned you on even more to see them cheer and congratulate Hunter, when you maneuvered his body into leaning over to kiss you sensually while your hand cups his right ass cheek possessively. You drew that particular kiss out, partially because he just tasted that good, and partially to goad Hunter.

Next came everything else- bank accounts, social media, Hunter made you a piece of all of it. 

“You’re not gonna get awa-w….” Hunter’s body shudders before it lick’s its lips, laying a seductive stare on you. “Coming to bed, babe?” You knew that part always killed him. You make him watch as you don his recently used gym clothes, still reeking of his sweat and warm with his latest session. You take a quick whiff, enjoying the feeling of his sweat glide across your flesh and his scent permeate into you. 

The raw, sharp stench of his used compression clothing hung heavy in the room but it wasn’t like Hunter was any better. These past few days were some of the most tiring for him- you loved making his flesh work out, loved the scents and grime he caked himself with, and ultimately decided to keep his body from showering. Hunter probably reeked to everyone else, but he smelled perfect to the only person allowed to matter in his life.

You slide up to him in bed, forcing him to wrap tone arms and legs around you like a warm blanket of flesh. He holds his phone up to your face, letting it unlock as he loads up his Instagram. Hunter was still somewhat connected to his University’s frat, so you had many options.

You make him lick your cheek seductively. You shuddered. “I wanna know what it feels like… To take one of my bros, to watch the betrayal in their eyes while I jam them full of our seed.” Immediately, Hunter wrestles back control, only managing to whimper. Inside him, you can feel your joint seed- the worms you initially used to infect him writhe and wriggle in pleasure. 

You grab the phone, turning to the side as you continue to scroll through his Instagram. Meanwhile, you make Hunter touch himself, self-pleasuring until he reaches climax. You squirm in pleasure as he releases, feeling his body’s pleasure as an extension of yourself. His cum instantly solidifies. Instead of worms, your slithering offspring together expand in size, taking on a more snake-like appearance. You let one flow into your mouth, intending to let it settle in your body like a spring-loaded trap in case you needed a new puppet. You savor the flavor of the singular snake while forcing Hunter to swallow the rest of the serpents. Mmmmm. Tastes just like Hunter.

Hunter convulses as your offspring together reintegrate into his being. Without acknowledging his spasming form, you pull up one of the current members of his old frat. 

“Jake. Junior. Sports Medicine. ATO… Looks like he has a personal training course. What do you think?” You ask the shaking Hunter. You see the veins on his temples enlarge in struggle and his face flush red.

“F-F…. Fuck Yeah”.

- - - - -

“Hey man. You sure you wanna do this in the forest?” Jake asked. So far, that only emotion you've seen come across his face is mild disinterest.

“Yeah…” you reply coolly through Hunter. God it turned you on just hearing his voice relay your thoughts. Hunter gagged internally. He stewed in disgust at feeling his own body act so naturally despite your impure intentions.

You can tell from Jake’s willingness to accommodate, you must have been one of his first clients. It was pretty clear why. Though popular, he wasn’t particularly charismatic. He’s posted at least one or two others- members of his own frat, but you wonder how many other actual clients he had. It was likely not much, considering how easy it was to convince him to agree to start the session the middle of the forest. 

You readjusted in your seat, trying to hide your growing boner. Corrupting Hunter’s own secret spot into a trap laid out for Jake brought its own unique pleasure, but having to force his body to drive made it difficult to keep your own emotions at bay. You internally thank how little of your actual intention leaked. Hunter’s sincerity was one of his best traits, and you readily dispensed it at will, turning it into your own personal weapon.

Deeper and deeper, you drive Hunter to guide your party into the woods. Getting to the remote location felt even longer than before, perhaps due to your excitement. You look at your phone in glee as signal slowly dwindles. Eventually, your party stops at the water’s edge. You admire your handiwork as you look in satisfaction at the sheer stillness in Hunter’s Lake. 

“Uh, so you’re actually already pretty built but we can still work on bulking you up.” His lips follow a flat smile, but his eyes betray his lack of interest. “You said you wanted to get jacked? What about your friend over there?” You smile a little at his nonchalance. It was almost cute seeing him try to secure another client. Oh Jake, I can’t wait to use that tight bod to get ourselves some more ‘clients’.

“My boyfriend”, you correct him through Hunter. “Is just here to watch... I l-like it when he watches”. You anticipate Jake’s reaction to this bizarre response, but the only change in his somewhat bored expression is a slight raise in his eyebrows. Hunter’s face is forced to mimic your sinister glee. Too easy. 

“Sure bro, whatever floats your boat…” he relays back with a tone that feels like an eye roll. “Just saying, he could probably really benefit from this program.” Bored eyes survey your main body up and down. “I can make you strong, bro”. That brings a filthy smile to your face. 

“You’re about to”, you moan.

Jake looks slightly confused for second, but his attention immediately focuses on Hunter’s approaching form, hands placed across his flesh, raking every piece of himself in pleasure. 

“W-“ Jake is cut short as he is pushed several feet back into the lake water below. Amusement paints your face. Evidently, you underestimated the strength bound in Hunter’s body. 

In more emotion than you’ve ever seen him have, the frat bro seizes at the sharp drop in temperature, yelping before he feels his heart drop and face turn pale. Slithering. All over him. He looks around in shock at a mass of serpents, coiling and writhing beneath the once-still water. You could tell he had a sixth sense for their unnatural nature. Too little too late. 

Water splashes everywhere as Jake makes a beeline for shore. He chokes on the lake water a little and stumbles out but he does make it. Jake continues running inland despite being covered in snakes, hoping to flee into the forest. He slowly trudges to a halt, pinned upright as your snakes continue swirling around him.

True to Hunter’s name, you had booby-trapped the water during a previous visit, forcing his body to the brink as it deposited wave after wave of your joined semen. As soon as his seed left his warm flesh, it instantly solidified together, forming sizable serpents. Quite the upgrade from those worms.

Even now, you continue through Hunter, forcing him to pump his dick and blow out another load of your serpentine offspring. His eyes go glassy as they combine into larger forms. This time, they slither around Hunter’s flesh. His eyes fall on the helpless Jake, blinking once in sincere dread before you moan. As you do, his face twitches in discomfort until he is forced to moan as well, bringing a shaking hand back over his dick to pump out another load. And another still. Wave after tireless wave of snakes. Each wave adds to the one before, growing your snake larger and larger, until one several feet long is coiling itself around Hunter. 

You were up to your fifth wave of offspring now. Jake is staring in horror, trying to escape the writhing clutches of your previous trap. Hunter’s body is past its limits. He’s slack-jawed, mouth agape and chest coated in waves of drool. He exudes a thick, pungent sheen of sweat. Your eyes lazily fall back on the personal trainer. 

Jake too is drenched in sweat and struggle and slick with the hybrid cum of you and your previous hunt. He continues to look in fear at the barely conscious, tired beyond measure Hunter. Hunter is still reeling from what his body was just puppetted into doing. In this state, there’s no fight left in your “boyfriend’s” mind. He was only strung up into lucidity by the web of your cells in folds of his brain. 

You will your own body unconscious, feeding the full stream of your thoughts into your hot neighbor. Despite the refinement in control, you still feel the slightest lag, slight delay in each movement. But with this new level of control, you feel blood rushing into his sore dick. His height alone was already a shift from your previous body. Longer, stronger limbs at your beckoning. You feel them brimming with power. Every sensation, every breath through his lungs felt grounding. Without Hunter inside wrestling for control, every movement felt more precise, every sense more vibrant. Hunter’s body resonates with your mind, feeling more like an extension of yourself. You strip yourself, taking your time to enjoy the new sensations.

You blink through Hunter’s tired eyes, boring his hazel irises into Jake’s, and smirk. “Don’t worry. You’re so big… I bet you can take all of us.” You drop to your knees, laying the large serpent into the ground. 

You give Jake a show, starting to hump the air. With each thrust, your serpentine offspring begin to coil further and further around the whimpering Jake. “Please!” He screams. “What do you want? Money? I’ll give you anything, bro!” He shouts as he tries to shake off the snakes. “I-I don’t wanna die” he states in panic. 

You walk up and lean Hunter’s face up to his cheek, your puppet’s warmth like a blanket over his body. You breathe out hot damp air through Hunter lungs. Jake slightly winces at your proximity. “You’re not gonna fucking die, bro”. You lick the side of his face. Salty. “Would be such a waste of that delectable bod”. You can feel Hunter’s consciousness begin to reemerge. He tries to wriggle back control, his disgust apparent. He’s revolted at what’s become of him. Once kind. Once normal. Now depraved. Now yours. You wield him with little care. With a cockiness and a cruelty that paid no respect to the man he once was. “Look at this fucking hunk. This puppet. This meatsuit.” You let your Hunter-bound dick gently graze Jack’s abdomen while moaning out through his deep voice. “Does he look dead to you?”

“No, You’re gonna live. And I’m gonna live. With you… In you. Through. You.” With that, you position Hunter out of the way as your largest offspring slithers its way into the convulsing Jake.

Jake starts hyperventilating as it inches closer and closer into his bound form. You ball your Hunter’s hand into a fist. The snakes already surrounding his flesh tighten even further. He gasps as the first cum-drenched serpent pokes at his ass. He looks back as you start to feed it in, shaking as he tries to control his pleasure when it rushes past his prostate.  

With his mouth slightly open, you feed foot upon foot of yourself. He tries to retch, but that only gives more space for the snake to slip even further into him. 

Once half of the large serpent is comfortably inside, you will the rest of the snakes up his asshole. Jake shudders, unable to fully vocalize his screams. He falls to the ground in a dull thud, convulsing while his body is forced to accommodate the extra mass of your offspring. You hear creaks and groans in his flesh, chest and stomach distended and writhing with your offspring.

Jake is reduced to soft squelching noises when the last of the large serpent slips in, sealing his fate. His shaking hands grip his neck as he tries to fight off the intrusion. He’s far too late, however. He thrashes in the ground, kicking dirt as two snakes slip between his muscle fibers. You entrench yourself into the man, willing more serpents into the folds of his extremities before making them burst back into Hunter-enhanced cum. 

He whimpers, back arching in unnatural angles as you weave the largest serpent into the deepest parts of his body. He eventually quiets into stillness. Unable to move out of fear. It’s only for a moment, however. A splashing sound is heard from deep within his flesh as you explode the snake and coat most of his insides with your seed. You feel your cells begin to hijack his, merging and imposing you into his body. 

You feel your main body stir to life, panting. Hunter’s naked body immediately drops to the ground, unconscious. Controlling these snakes seems to take a lot out of you. You look back at Jake. You still lack fine control of his body. This body is strong too. You feel his muscle fibers fight you, defying your commands through sheer force of will. You lick your lips, causing the sleeping Hunter to do the same. Manipulating both bodies felt like its own workout, especially when they resist. You instead focus more attention on your latest capture.

You wrap one snake around one of his vocal cords and bite. A strand of drool escapes slightly parted lips as his mouth moves with sluggish rigidity. With other bits of control. you clumsily force him to strip. Veins pop around his neck and his face contorts in pain. As you wrap another snake around more of his vocal cords, he relents his voice to you. “I can already tell this body’s a fuckin alpha.” God it felt good to puppet Jake. He twitches in struggle and then pats his abs. They don’t move at all from his hand but they ripple intensely with the writhing of the flesh you lodged inside him. His lips quiver but he is eventually forced to smile- and then a cocky flex. It feels entirely foreign coming out of him. 

A few of your serpents slip into his balls, coiling and coating them with the mix of Hunter’s seed and your own. Hunter already had potency, but you could tell Jake was on another level. You wanted it. All of it. All of him. You inject yourself into every piece of his seed factory, and Jake seizes as he feels his future surrender to you. He feels a wrongness to his core, as you root into his very essence, his potential legacy. Jake sticks his tongue out in your delirious pleasure. He pulls up to your main body, grinding into you while smearing testosterone laden sweat all over your body. “That’s fuckin right. Get in me. All of it. This body- my baby batter’s yours. Inject us into my friends. My family…” He moans. 

Another snake wedges into the folds of his brain before biting. A mix of your cum and Hunter’s floods his mind. Jake grips his head in pain as he’s forced to surrender every thought, feeling, dream he’s ever had. You move your offspring in sync to perfectly imitate Jake. He starts to strip, letting you witness the full glory of his drenched body. ”I’ve always wanted kids. Your kids- Our kids are gonna be so fucking strong. Daddy Jake will make them strong”. He taunts himself as he feels his own body up. “I’m fucking delicious”. With your increased focus, he’s a bit easier to handle. A bead of sweat falls on your main body. Still fucking hard to pilot. “Cmon bro, this all you got?” You make him say to himself. Jake blinks away tears, betrayed by his own flesh and muscle. 

Suddenly, you see a tired Hunter wake, sickened to his core, but free. You instantly try to flex the pieces of yourself still embedded inside him but he resists. Your main body falls into sleep again to solidify your control over Jake’s body. The worn Hunter starts to scramble away before you rush him with Jake’s body, pinning him with your new strengthened biceps. Power. Hunter had good qualities, but Jake was a powerhouse. Raw, muscled power. He was brimming with it, body soaked in the stuff. And it was now yours. Jake’s face animates with your delight. “Oh Hunter…” you coo. “You’re a fighter, aren’t you? I don’t think you’re fighting your way out of this one,” You sake with Jake’s virile voice, opening your mouth so he can see a resolidified snake. It was larger this time, more menacing. You close Jake’s mouth again as his face is pulled into your smile. 

“Here, have a taste”, you make him say, as you pull Hunter into a savage kiss. You fashion your new mouth into a wide smile regurgitating the newly thickened snake. Hunter chokes on your serpent, eyes rolling to the back of his head. The new offspring you’ve forced out of Jake and Hunter’s genetic material is mighty. Dominant. Hunter’s throat expands to allow the intrusion. He’s still weary from the past few days and newfound freedom, and you feel just one of these snakes are enough for full control. Permanent control. The enhanced piece of you begins dissolving and weaving itself into Hunter’s flesh. "You're mine". You hold him in place as he jolts, body twisting and contorting to try in vain to fight it. As his trembling slowly subsides, you watch in glee as his sullen face slowly rise to meet Jake’s eyes, growing smirk on his face mirroring yours.

Your control slowly wanes when your main body rises out of its sleep. You bring Hunter into a deep, wet kiss, before placing your attention back on Jake. Hunter’s flesh moves to your command, just like before, but this time, any resistance is tamped down by your new Jake-enhanced cum. You are still slightly out of breath from controlling his body, but with nowhere near the difficulty you had before.

The triple vision causes you to stagger, but you quickly get used to puppetting two bodies at once. This time, it was Jake’s turn to form a resistance. His body jerks as he tries to brute force command of his own body back. You wrestle it back, forcing a shaking hand to grab his dick and start pumping. You bring Hunter’s hand over, supporting. Your two hands are coarse, and your control over them is somewhat rough. Regardless, you quicken to a breakneck speed, barely leaving time for Jake’s body to gasp.

Jake’s dick releases in a torrent of cum. It coats Hunter’s body, but with your control, he doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he moans, scooping it into his hands and bringing it up to your Jake body’s mouth. You make your frat bro slurp the mixture own seed, Hunter, and yours. Jake’s fighting the urge to vomit, but to you it tastes divine. You make him swirl his tongue inside his mouth, corralling every last piece of it deeper inside. 

Making Jake reinfect himself made all three of your bodies hard. Jake squirms in and out of control. He’s forced to grope his own muscles while he feels himself saturate with you, his own Adonis bod reduced into an avatar of your pleasure. He’s ready. You bring your newly infested puppet close. His deep chest heaves for you. Voice dripping with your perversion, “I’ll make you strong bro” you make Jake say in a corruption of his own catchphrase. “This is peak performance”. You can practically feel him fight with every fiber of his being. His bulging musculature spams. You drool with anticipation, pinning his body and yours to a tree with Hunter’s gyrating flash. ”Be one with me” you sing in Hunter’s voice. “O..On..with…. me“, you start to be able to reply back as Jake. “O-o-one…” His head shakes side to side, fighting you intrusion. You pinpoint your mind, like a hypodermic needle to his psyche. “One with me,” He gasps in ecstasy. 

“You fuckin freak….” Jake’s face pulls in a deep smile as he moans. You already have him acting atypically, it borders on unnatural as his lips pull into a smile wider than he’s ever made in his life. He now faces your main body, face closer than you ever would have dared to have it before. “Sin in my body….” He winces in one last bit of resistance, a small tear pooling in his eye. “Let’s make my parent’s cry…” He leans down to you for a kiss, letting you taste every piece of him with your main body for the first time. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he’s forced to suck out the snake you swallowed a few days ago. He gurgles a little before sending a Jake-imbued serpent, drenched in his testosterone and musk, down your throat. You make him pull back, looking at you with his signature bored expression, now tainted with your lust. “Own me”. His hand grabs yours, pulling it over his ass cheek and forcing a squeeze. “From now on… I am yours” 

- - - - - 

It took a few hours to make your way back but you finally manage. This time, Jake drove back. Drawing on the sleeping Hunter's knowledge. His car and the route back are second nature.

Jake places a hand on your inner thigh and smiles. Before long, your back in town and you send the aspiring personal trainer on his way.

You lay back in bed, curling up to your Hunter body. He still reeks but you can’t wait to start concocting your own concentrated Jake-flavored scent. You sigh contentedly, satisfied with your newest acquisition.

Doesn’t hurt to have a little test drive. 

Your two bodies peacefully lull into slumber as you flood the full force of your consciousness into Jake’s body. His face flashes in a split-second resistance before settling back. You fit the shape of your psyche to match his brain, slowly sliding into a deepened control. He has been carrying on as normal, so when you open his eyes as your own for the first time and gasp you first Jake-breath, you immediately adapt to his nonchalance. You survey your new surroundings.

He’s at the school gym, with what looks like one of his ATO brothers. It’s quite empty, probably due to how late it was. You pull one of his half-smiles. You couldn’t believe your luck at the fine man before you. You extract information from Jake’s mind.

A model, at least part time. Smart. Charismatic. “He’s cute, too,” You taunt Jake. “Thanks for the bro, bro”.

One of the snakes you have in his body coils in excitement, but you will it to be still. Might as well finish his routine. You can’t help but push Jake’s body past its limit as you barrel your way through his sets. 

You had a glimpse of his raw power previously, but it paled in comparison to this. As you smash through set after set in his body, you feel deeply in tune with Jake. His heart pumps mightly. Your cells already course through his bloodstream, so the action squeezes you into him further and only solidifies your bond together. His lungs are like engines, you’ve never felt so much energy inside you. You want to keep the charade of his normal personality up, but you can’t help but giggle. So good. So fucking good.

Hunter was dependable, and it felt amazing fully wearing his mind, but Jake was another beast entirely. You feel drunk in his body, in his vitality, in feeling his muscles conform to your thoughts. Your two bodies in Hunter’s apartment start squirming, leaking a bit of precum. Your mind is twisted and slotted into every piece of Jake's. His inner self winces as your very being, very sense of self leeches out of every crevice in his, neurons force-fed your commands. Your Jake-flavored thoughts course through his body, the perfect housing to your newly added self. This was truly being Jake. Wearing him in all senses but physical. And being Jake is a fuckin party.

It wasn’t just sensation. Thoughts themselves felt euphoric. Through his eyes, the world seems just a bit brighter. His mouth is intimately aware of the flavor of his own saliva. And his nose... you take a deep whiff of the perspiration caking his armpits, drenched in his musk. Divine. A moan escapes your mouth, prompting a quick turn from Dylan. God, we even sound good when we moan together. Jake’s face immediately reverts to its normal, dull demeanor. You raise your eyebrows slightly, just like Jake does, as you catch his eyeline, arousing no suspicion. Dylan promptly returns to his exercises, unaware of the danger wearing his best friend. You put Jake in the forefront, only for a moment, relishing in his sense of freedom before immediately straddling his psyche. You ride it as he is forced to bring trembling fingers up to his nipples. You give them a good rub. Oh my god. Another moan, but Dylan ignores it this time. That gets the two of you even harder.

You continue to straddle Jake’s inner sense of self as you work through his last set. It felt good to have him around, to witness how much more powerful he was when you were puppetting his bod. “We’re so fucking strong together,” you grunt in a proud aggression. Jake’s emotions felt far more raw than Hunter’s so it was difficult reining them in. 

Large dumbbells fall to the ground in a loud thunk. Jake’s body- your body is spent. His flesh cries in pain and soreness, but even that felt amazing through his bod. You are intimately aware of his tired flesh. It’s tender, but not for long. You feel the fibers of his being, coated in your conjoined seed getting buried in the folds of his growing muscles. Like all bodies after a workout, his body courses with growth hormones. Mass. His flesh condenses, builds itself stronger, unwillingly with you inlaid deep within them. You whimper in ecstacy. This is yours. He is yours. All yours. Irreversibly yours.

You roar, proud of Jake, of the new branch of your being. You will his tired form upright. He drools as his body whines in soreness. You lap it up, his face filling with determination as you prepare for your next hunt.

Your body is soaked, oozing with Jake’s sweat and scent. You pay no mind as you slowly walk towards Dylan, who had just finished his last set. You can barely mask your excitement through Jake’s normal demeanor. God you look even better up close. Your muscled hand reaches out, offering to pull him up. You ‘accidentally’ pull him too hard and into your awaiting hug. You laugh it off but you can tell that emotion alone was already offputting to Dylan. Fuck it, let’s be one already.

You waste no time, wrapping Dylan with your larger frame. Your ATO bro flails, trying to escape your clutches. He's far too weak to resist, post-workout. Instead you pull his head, up to your nose for a quick whiff of your future scent. Your eyelids flutter a little. He smells fancy.

You tug on Jake’s memories, “Bro, it was so fun getting to know you this semester. Gets me so hard just thinking about that tight little ass of yours.” You start grinding Jake’s body into Dylan. Letting him feel Jake’s hard on.

Dylan is stammering, clearly worried at the hybrid personality of Jake and your perversion. This person in front of him is Jake. It’s undeniably Jake, but it feels so wrong. Your muscled hand grips his chin, turning it from one side to another. “We’re gonna be more than bros, Dylan.” That causes him to struggle more. “You got the cutest face in ATO. Can’t fucking wait to wear it. Ready to be one?”

Dylan starts tossing himself around, as he sees the large snake slowly rising from Jake’s smile. You use your newfound muscle man to keep him steady. Another perk of being entrenched in Jake’s body. You waste no time, forcing Dylan to gorge himself on you, Jake and Hunter’s hybrid seed. 

He makes gurgling noises as you coil and worm into your new bod, and the last sight he sees is Jake pleading “sorry”. Dylan’s shaking stops, arms hanging lifelessly. Jake is still whimpering his sorrys as you brute force your bond into Dylan. It’s normally an arduous process, but being betrayed by his best friend turns his corruption into quick work. His mind succumbs to you easily, still in shock.

Jake is still sobbing “sorry” as he holds you upright. Your eyes slowly blink open, looking to Jake in confusion at first. He opens his mouth, wanting to ask if you were still you but you abruptly use your new body to pull him into a kiss. You force Jake to reciprocate, giving him a forbidden taste of his best bro’s essence.

“No need to be sorry bro,” you moan. “Actually... thank you, Jake. Thank you for stuffing this tight bod with his flesh.” You start to mock Jake by wearing your new body’s sincerity as you continue. “I’ve always wanted to be turned into a meat puppet. This was my deepest desire”. You hum.

Wearing Dylan was equally arousing and you feel Jake squirm in disgust at feeling his best friend’s growing hard on. You start to dance in Dylan’s tight bod, shaking more of your cells deeper in the process. “I’ve always wanted to be slut. And for my best, most trusted bro to be the one to infect me!” You cackle. “You feel him, don’t you?” You moan. “You can tell there’s no going back…”  Jake starts to shake as you resume control, this time dispersing your mind across both bodies. 

You pull back Jake to the forefront of his own mind, again strapping him to your own thoughts so he can fully watch and experience himself defile his best friend’s body. Jake’s body returns a hedonistic sneer. “Hell yeah brother…” You slam Dylan to the gym floor and begin stripping both frat men. “We can take the rest of ATO-“ both bodies briefly moan at the thought of corrupting their own brothers. “But, gratitude, bro. Lemme taste you first. Gonna stuff you so full of my cum, you’ll always have a piece of Jake inside of you,” You chuckle. “Well, more what's already there”.

= = = = =

Phew, another long one. But when have they ever not been long?

[syoddeye]

the gift that keeps on giving - part one, john

Every year, on each of their birthdays, you're delivered with a bottle of Scotch. Shared. Savored. Spoiled. cw: established relationship, everything is consensual, reader is shared between price+nik+kate, smut, rope bondage, gags, mild degradation, vibrators, alcohol, pet names a/n: AO3

"Is that–?"

"It is."

"And that–?

"Nikolai sends his regards."

John scrubs a hand over his warming cheeks and chuckles when he meets Kate's eyes. Her smile is sharp, wicked. The very same one she shares whenever a plan executes perfectly. She pats his back and lays a key card on the desk.

"Happy birthday, John. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She laughs softly as she leaves the suite. The door clicks shut after easing closed, leaving him alone with his gifts.

He stares, good manners slipping now that company's gone. He doffs his cap and shucks off his jacket, taking his time to place both aside. His breathing deepens as he peels off his shirt, the cool air a balm to his warmed skin.

"Look at you. Sittin' pretty. Much better than last time." He tugs off his belt and lifts a single brow. "Did our chat motivate you? Or are you on your best behavior 'cause it's my birthday?"

His pet doesn't answer, of course, not with the gag held between her teeth. She weakly whines as he steps out of his trousers, folding them with the same lack of hurry as the rest of his clothes. His lip curls at the sheen on her lips, the string of drool dangling from the silicone, and how her eyes drill far lower than his face. He cups himself over the cotton, sneering when her gaze snaps up.

"No, you care about the rules or my birthday, do you? You just want somethin' to gag on." John clicks his tongue, ignoring her protests, releasing himself to pluck the half-full bottle resting between her legs. Fingers curling around the neck, he guides the heft of it deliberately into her seam as he lifts it. He zeroes in on the damp revealed by its removal and the pink silicone tail peeking out from behind the gusset. He exhales hard through his nose. 

"You better be a good girl for Kate next time you're with her. She's spoiled you."

John pulls the room's armchair closer to the bed and pours himself a small drink. The bottle is an old tradition that he and Nik started. Kate's the most recent addition to the rotation, despite her deeming it unpalatable. But, sure enough, her initials and last year's date are etched in ink on the bottle's label.

He looks over their pet and the rope securing her limbs, ensuring it's only as uncomfortable as she likes. Her arms double-cuffed at her back, legs held open like butterfly wings, tied ankle to thigh. She's stunning like this. Always is.

Swirling the amber on his tongue, savoring the taste, he swipes through his phone to the clever little app, and starts her off at the halfway point on the scale. He sips, content to watch her try and remain still as the egg whirrs to life, tail twitching from where it sticks out of her panties. He knows some of the frustrated noises trapped behind the gag stem from the fact he hasn't ripped that frilly piece of lingerie off yet, that he can't see her pussy soaking itself. He's in no rush. After all, following one near-immediate orgasm, from probably being teased to high heaven by Kate, the silk conforms to her sex. He sees every fucking detail from the chair.

John's achingly hard, purposely ignoring his own needs. He plays with the settings through another orgasm, curiously trying out the new tap mode, sending occasional pulses to keep her guessing. Only when the aftershocks peter out, leaving her trembling and contracting inward, does he shut it down to let her slump inward. He sets his glass aside.

"There we go." He minds as he removes the gag dripping with her spit. "Status?"

"Green, could use water, sir." She whispers through several deep breaths, voice shaky.

"Good girl, telling me what you need." The reinforcement is pointless, more for him than her. Regardless, he finds her water bottle in the minifridge and watches her lips pucker around the straw. "I'm gonna take that out when you're finished. Need anything else?"

She swallows, then shakes her head. "No, sir."

The hot pink vibrator's sticky, coated, and its removal releases a little rush. They both groan, and it's all he can do to not tip her back and take her there and then.

"Kate's improved." He observes, one finger hooking under the rope wrapped around her upper thigh. She squirms, lips pressing together in a frown. "You don't think so?"

"I had to tell her how to do my legs."

"Did you?" John grabs one of the smaller pillows and tosses it beside the bed. He toes it into position, then reaches for her. "Proud of yourself?" He huffs when, instead of answering, she arcs toward his hands, eyes trained on his face. She's still feeling a mite bold, then. That bravado doesn't last. It never does. The second he puts her level with the strained fabric of his pants, her eyes drop. That slip of attitude bleeds into an affectation of the docility he likes. A practiced and put-upon yielding. She'll play along, for now.

"Conceited and greedy." John chides, reaching for his glass. He widens his stance, nodding once to cue her. A chuckle rumbles out as she buries her face into the cotton pulled taut across his cock. Nosing it first, dragging in deep breaths, then mouthing at him, wetting it, laving her tongue over its curve, then down. He hisses, watching her clumsily take the elastic band in her mouth. "Mind those teeth."

When she manages to drag the cotton to his base, he pushes it down his thighs further with his free hand, then settles it on the crown of her head. His cock droops, twitching at her soft, warm breaths fanning over it. A teaser.

She kisses his tip once, stealing a kitten's lick, before opening and offering his cock its cradle. He glides it over her tongue, letting the threads of his control puppet him along until he's as far as she can take. Into the wet sleeve of her throat, breathing hard through her nose. His head tips back, and a prolonged sigh leaves him as he simply holds there, listening to the choked gags of her attitude adjustment.

He starts slow. Kate's probably kept their pet's pretty mouth occupied for the weeks she's had her, but he's seen the woman's collection, and nothing's as thick as him. He picks up the pace, rocking his hips with some vigor when her tongue starts acting more deliberately, less reactionary. She's old hand at this by now. Takes his cock like a champ anywhere he sticks it.

His head tilts back down until his chin taps his chest to admire the sight of his pet working. Her eyelashes flutter over her cheeks, nose scrunching as his hair repeatedly tickles it. 

"Eyes open." He withdraws until just the tip sits behind her lips, before giving it a few shallow thrusts to knock the tears off her waterline. He licks his lips at the uneven lines of her smearing makeup. No waterproof shit. Kate really thought of everything. He shuttles her mouth down again, swearing at the squeeze.

When he pulls out, her tongue chases after, and he slaps his length across it to hear her whine. She lets it slip over her cheek to nuzzle his sack, and he nearly bites a chunk of his cheek out when she pays them her attention, suckling gently at the textured skin. Her swollen lips plant kisses. It takes the last of his drink and the last of his self-restraint to stop her. 

He'd rather not paint her face—not on the first round. 

John weighs his options. How much freedom she ought to have in what comes next. She turns her head beneath his hand, pressing a kiss to his wrist before letting her teeth graze lightly over the ridges of its veins. Then, when he doesn't make a decision quick enough for her liking, she nips hard. His nostrils flare at the sting, and then he moves, his decision made. It's time, he thinks, to unwrap the present right in front of him.

He makes short work of the rope. First her legs, then her arms, hoisting her onto the bed rougher than planned. The hotel bed groans under the sudden drop, but the indignant huff she expels is louder. The seconds he allows her to stretch her limbs as he kicks off his pants is his mercy. 

The mattress dips as he follows her toward the headboard, knees knocking hers apart. Her hand slides down her belly quick as a cat, spreading herself with two digits, and his single-mindedness nearly misses the 'J' and 'P' painted neatly on her fingernails.

"What's this?"

She smiles coyly. "Another present."

"Did I pay for it?"

"Yes, sir. They look better wet. See?" To illustrate, she shines them with her own slick, and she's right. They do. His gaze shifts between them to the entrance they frame. She's dripping like a tap, clit swollen under its hood and almost goading. The glittery paint catches the light.

"Look at that." He throbs at the sight of her hole clenching reflexively, then slips a finger between her own, groaning at the give and the heat. Her breath hitches as he buries it deep and crooks it. He knows every part of her body as well as he knows his own. Takes nothing to find the spot that makes her sing.

The ebbing of his near-orgasm is a minor tragedy, his prick practically begging to cram itself into her, but watching her squirm satisfies the torment. He relishes her whimpers, the wet squelch of her pussy sucking him in. The sight of her gripping the sheets and stuffing her painted fingers into her mouth, the sound of a muffled oh fuck escaping around them—never been a better show.

John works her up to two and briefly considers a third when her eyes roll, but he's fit to burst. Plenty of time between now and breakfast. He might try for a fourth when she's good and loose.

While he cleans his fingers, her legs hitch around his waist and lock by the ankle at the small of his back, heels digging in and urging. A demand sneaks out, too, though when he meets her eye, she's biting her lip in denial. All apologetic, but only when she's caught.

Spoiled, pampered pet. He's supposed to be the firm hand of the trio. She's gone and softened him up.

He drapes over her, arms bracketing her head. No quarter, no turning her face away. Front row seat to her pupils swallowing their color, tears pooling heavily on their lines. Her anticipation and frustration are raw, too big for her to hide. Her sweetness exists at the knife's edge, and too often, he finds himself on the wrong side of it. She knows just where to slot it between his ribs, when to twist. How much to give to make him ache for it. Turn both of them greedy.

Her hips wiggle, heat-seeking cunt in search of a cock, and another gasp puffs out of her when it works. The blunt head catches and, with pressure, notches. "Deep breath." He warns. From there, it's one languid thrust into her cunt. Worth all the teasing and toying, no resistance at all. She's snug, soaking, and fits him like a glove.

The first outward stroke pulls a deep groan from somewhere deep within him. Her heels tamp down as he builds a rhythm. Bullying him into bullying her. They let up when he plummets deep enough to brush her cervix, the muscles melding to his sides briefly seizing like she's touched an electric fence. Kicking when he keeps at it.

Her hands meet behind his neck, fingers lacing together. Later, she'll dig them into his back upon request. Kiss the marks they leave, too. The thought already makes his chest ache. For all the trouble she gives him, she's a good girl.

He and Nik got lucky.

They weren't looking for anything like this when they met her. They had each other, thought it sorted, no need for more. No one else. But then, out of every shop in the city, they had to pick hers. And she, with her effortless smile and charm, had to go and upsell Nik that first bottle. She didn't push, exactly, but the way she leaned in, the lilt of her voice—it was impossible to resist. She was under their skin in a heartbeat.

After that, they couldn't help themselves. The way they showed up to collect her after work, practically glowing. The fucking springs in their steps. Nik's arm over her shoulders, and John's around her waist, as if there was nothing in the world but the three of them, as if they'd known each other forever.

It was meant to be a one-time thing. Now she's got her own room and an allowance.

And then Kate got involved, and everything changed again, simplifying and complicating it all at once. New rules laid down to keep everyone happy and well, but flexible enough that everyone knows her availability if someone needs to eat her cunt.

He slips out to roll to his side, grunting approvingly when she hastily follows suit, arse pressing insistently to his front. His hand curls under her knee, lifting and prying her open, and hers reaches down blindly to guide him back in. The sound she makes is pornographic, pitching up a note in her used throat when he punches back in the second her hole slots over him.

"Needy fuckin'–"

"Please, John, I want–"

Beneath her head, the bicep she uses as a pillow bulges. He bends his arm further, snatching up one wrist and netting himself the other when she tries to free it. 

Like this, he can let loose. Fuck her with abandon. Give her what she really wants and what he needs. Something to stave off the steady march of time, help him ignore the new crop of silvers and grays above his ears. Stretch out the pretty girl on his cock and listen to her cry about it, and cry for more. 

His nose and forehead press to her temple, and she turns her head enough to give him the chance for a kiss. He doesn't hesitate, leaning in to claim her mouth. It's sloppy and desperate, but it's the softest she's been all night since choking on him.

Her leg lifts from his hold, sweat beading along her forehead at the strain. His hand falls automatically toward her clit, thumbing where the skin stretches first, feeling how thin it spreads on the outstroke. It makes him rut like a bull, feeling bigger than ever with how taut it goes. He pants into her neck, grinning wolfishly at how her pussy clenches around him when he briefly teases the bud between her legs.

She shifts, rolling her hips back to meet him, and he answers by turning her, then pressing her down into the sheets. One hand firmly clamps at her waist, the other settling at the nape of her neck. His knees take the brunt of his weight, spreading to stabilize his stance, before rebuilding his pace. He fucks her like this for a while, spearing over and over again, staring rapt at the core of her body. Listening to the slick glide of himself into where she's swollen and crying. 

He moves his mitt from her waist to the underside of her knee, spreading her further, driving in deeper. "Touch yourself." he rasps, a chuckle rumbling out of him at the speed of her compliance. One of her arms snakes under her stomach, and he watches four cute fingers poke out from under his cock to rub herself stupid.

Sweat clings to his back, matting the pelt of coarse hair on his chest and stomach, dripping steadily onto her as he shifts his weight. He leans more of his heft onto her, letting gravity aid the swing of his hips. Hammers down on her fingers. In a distant corner of his mind, he recalls his last birthday and the noise complaints. The concierge's face the next morning, tomato-red and warped with embarrassment, unable to meet their eyes as he explained.

A sharp whine snaps his eyes to her face. Her bottom lip is held fast in her teeth, and he releases her neck to drag a knuckle down the side of her face. He collects a bead of sweat and licks it off, humming at another delightful squeeze.

"Gonna come, sweetheart? Gettin' close?"

She nods, eyelids shutting halfway. Tiny stars dance in her pupils as her eyes roll in their sockets. They snap to him when his palm returns to her neck. It draws a groan out of his throat, that expression. Looking to him for permission. To come, to speak.

"Tell me how it feels."

"Good, 's good, sir. Fffuck! " 

Her wrist must be aching. He knows the rest of her is. "You want to come?" He presses a finger against her carotid, enough to encourage focus. "C'mon, words."

"Yes, please, sir—"

It's his day, but he lets her have it. She comes hard, choking his cock, forcing him to a furious grind and short, pointed thrusts. He follows not long after, hand slipping from her neck in a frantic, jerking motion, the last shred of control he has left before it overtakes him. When it does, it scours his thoughts clean, spills most of what's left into her, and she milks the dregs out. 

It's some time before he can ease out of her, and his length pulses with interest at the obscene sound of his exit. A filthy chuckle rattles out of him at the sight of his cum dribbling out after, freed by the suction. She's a mess. He adjusts, gets comfortable, and then digs his fingertips into the muscles of her upper thighs and glutes. Humming when she comes back online, panting, face buried in the pillow.

"Tired already?"

She manages to shake her head.

They'll take a break, for both their sakes. If the extra suitcase at the foot of the bed is any indicator, she's brought her entire toy chest with her. Enough to keep his hands busy in the downtime. Until morning. 

She's not too tired that she can't help him move her. He props himself up against the tufted headboard, its cheap fabric sopping up his sweat, and she drapes herself over his chest. Momentarily sated, temporarily sweet. Her hand splays across his chest, nails glinting like stained-glass windows. He stares at his initials—protected under a clear varnish, pristine and perfect. As fleeting as the calm. Branding her as his for a day. This only happens once a year. But seeing that 'P' stirs that old possessive streak. 

She drifts, her breathing evening out as her body recuperates. Won't take more than twenty minutes, tops. He could time it to the second if he cared, but he doesn't. He lets her rest, sprawled warm and weighty against him.

"Happy birthday, John." she sighs, her voice soft as a whisper over his chest, her breath blowing through the whorls of his hair.

Happy birthday indeed, he thinks, tracing a line between her shoulder blades.

She's the only piece of heaven he'll ever know. She's his. Theirs. But tonight, just his.

[temporarily-your-saint]

Dull Blades

benjicot blackwood & targaryen oc

UPDATED! First chunk of this just? Disappeared??? So, edited it to include the missing first part!

warnings: angst?? no warnings, really? fluff & drabble for now & soft ben ~

I got this idea for a drabble from S2 of GOT when Catelyn Stark finds her son in disarray after hearing of his father. After watching the last couple episodes of HOTD (and reading Fire and Blood recently), it’s hard not to think about all of the heartbreak between the two sides. This little drabble follows an OC I’m creating, Rhaenala, having a moment to really feel and let out her frustration and sadness. She wanders off to the woods on her own once settling into the Riverlands only to then be discovered by a certain Blackwood. Also, I know, I know, okay! I know our boy didn’t turn out to be our boy, BUT LET ME COPE, OKAY. : ‘ )

Also, part 1??? Thinking about making a second part to this…

—

Swing after swing the blade got duller and even more damaged. The log had had it. She couldn’t help it though. Everything was falling apart as she knew it. Her house, her family, everything. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

Her breath heaved as she swung her sword. In the distance, she could hear footsteps brushing along the grass and leather moving against each other as a voice called out.

She wiped her eyes, removing all evidence of frustrated tears.

“Hey!” She heard the voice as it got closer. It was a husky voice, perhaps a young lad.

“Hey! Princess!” Lilac eyes snapped up to meet the unknown voice. Her chest rose up and down quickly as she leaned over to rest. Who was this? This lanky, dark-haired man? Rhaelana was stunned by his boldness yet captivated.

Piercing familiar eyes met hers. “We need that sword, Princess. We need every sword necessary to end every life that defends the usurper. And…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning the blade in her hands. “You’re letting that one go to waste,” he finished his sentence softly as he slowly approached closer.

Blackwood. Benjicot Blackwood.

She remembered now. Head of House Blackwood. How could she be so dense?

The princess was sent by her mother to aid their allies with the battle against the Lannister army. Benjicot had sent ravens to the queen not long before asking for aid, so Rhaelana was drafted with Valax, her grown dragon with black onyx scales. The two were a formidable pair and more than capable of assisting their Riverland allies.

Her mouth parted with a bewildered cackle, laughing uncontrollably out loud. She couldn’t help it. This truly was a sightly scene for the young lord to find his princess, wasn’t it?

She sheathed the sword as she stood upright. “My apologies, my lord. I shall be more mindful,” her voice quivered on the last word, almost making her lose her composure. He could see that, of course. It wasn’t difficult to see that she was hurting, being torn apart in every direction. Most of all, she was grieving. Grieving for those that were already lost. Grieving for those that would welcome death soon enough. And what better way to let go than by hitting something? Oh, Benjicot knew that feeling all too well.

“Princess?” He continued to walk towards her, stepping slowly only inches apart now as they stood in front of each other.

“I should be going now. There’s people expecting me and—“ But as she began to step past him, an arm reached out, hand wrapping itself around her wrist.

“I wept,” he began to speak, answering the puzzled look on the princess’s face. “The first time I lay eyes on all the bodies. It was my first time on a battlefield and afterward I felt nothing but sorrow.” His words hung heavy in the air. “War is war, princess. And with family? I dare not imagine. But you have us. You have me,” he spoke softly while searching her eyes.

The young lord realized he still held her wrist and released her, snapping the princess harshly back into reality as he let her go.

“Benjicot Blackwood,” she spoke his name sternly. The young man straightened up, gaze never faltering hers.

“Thank you. I hope to see you at the meeting,” a hopeful gleam shined in her eyes as she spoke. Her body then glided past him, her shoulder brushing his arm as she passed.

The current state of her family was doomed. But her mother’s rightful place on the throne didn’t have to be. No, she was going to fight. She was going to fight with any and every weapon possible, dull or not.

A smile danced at the corner of the young lord’s lips as she passed by. His head bowed for a moment as he responded, “Of course, princess.”

Her figure walked away from him, towards the direction of camp. If there was one thing for certain, Ben knew they’d succeed with the princess at their aid. He recognized the look in her eyes all too well. The princess was proving to be all the more captivating than he could have hoped.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

AU where even after death our favourite Finwëions are being stubborn as ever so a new solution is found. Finarfin just wanted to help his grandson in law.

Fëanor and Fingolfin are being stubborn as ever

It’s been three ages, their wounds are healed, they’ve made up and understood most of their deeds

But they cannot for the life of them get along, and everyone, from Mandos to their children and people, know that if they’re released in their current state, things will go right back to how they were

Even if their people are kept in line by their kids, it’s a very explosive situation

And in all honesty, Námo feels like they’ve put poor Finarfin through enough without this addition

He can’t keep them here forever. The halls aren’t meant to be a permanent residence unless it’s by choice, and they’ve started causing chaos in here too

…but speaking of the sons of Finwë

Finarfin himself isn’t doing particularly well right now. He feels great guilt for his inaction over the last two Ages, especially as Tyelpë and Ereinion turned up with their own tales

Then of course little Celebrian

(Doesn’t matter how much everyone tells him they’d genuinely be lost without him and his actions. The Noldor especially would’ve been outcast and alone. They needed a stable ruler, not another revolutionary. And the work he’s done is more impactful than either of his brothers ever managed)

Not to mention he’s still furious at his brothers despite what he’s convinced himself of

…and misses them greatly.

Truth be told, the Valar owe him a lot.

So they offer him a choice.

Ereinion’s skilled with managing all kinds of people and people don’t have a problem with the kid, so for a time he’ll be the High King

Finarfin is overjoyed at the chance to help his granddaughter’s family. Elrond is dear to many across all factions, and his children too.

…He’s less overjoyed at the news his brothers will be joining him if he agrees.

Nevertheless desire to be of use for once wins out and he accepts.

He gets a week or so to say his goodbyes and prepare for the journey. Asking around, particularly asking the third age elves who’ve recently arrived and Celebrian most of all, gets him the clothes and supplies he needs to somewhat blend in.

They’re still his colours (though he has none) and his symbol is carefully hidden under the cloak.

And he heads to the Hall’s Opening.

“For what it’s worth, Arafinwë, I’m sorry for the additional baggage. We’ve asked much of you, but hopefully this at least will benefit us all.”

Námo is kind when he stands and opens the gates.

“I know you’ve missed them too.”

The soft whisper dissipates into the wind with the Vala and now two figures are walking out. Tall. Broad shouldered. Eyes shining with light.

Clad in their usual blue and red, weapons strapped to their backs and hips.

Fëanaro and Nolofinwë have returned at last.

Before he can say anything there’s a whirl of light and the three elves are swept away.

Aragorn did not sign up for this

A bright flash of light all but blinds him, leaving three figures in its wake.

Three very tall. Very Elven. Figures.

And if that’s not enough, they look strangely familiar. Like he should know them from somewhere.

“That damn Vala! He couldn’t have warned us!”

And now they’re speaking Quenya.

“He did. It’s not his fault you don’t listen to anyone but yourself,” the one clad in blue says viciously.

The third elf, the only one with blond hair, groaned and glared at the two others. Aragorn winced at the look, thankful he wasn’t under it, though neither of the others so much as flinched.

“You’ve been back how long?” He scoffed. “And here I thought I missed you.”

To his credit the one in blue showed some regret and bowed his head. Beside him, the red one huffed, but it was much less heated, and his hands clenched into the leaves around him.

“Forgive me, Arafinwë,” the blue one said.

Aragorn’s hand found his blade. It couldn’t be…

“Depends what you want forgiveness for, Nolo,” was the cold reply, tinged with hurt.

No way.

But it was there. The uncanny resemblance to the portraits he’d seen in his books as a young boy learning his history. This was no doubt Fingolfin, and beside him Finarfin. Which only left-

“My feud with Fëanaro has long tainted our relationship, little brother,” the blue elf- *Fingolfin* replied bitterly, glaring at the third elf. “I’d like to start again.”

“Well I’d like you two to shove your issues aside for once and try and get along!” Finarfin hissed back, and his older brother’s eyes widened. “How long will you keep fighting?! How long will you divide your people, your children! How long will you make them suffer for your egos?!”

Aragorn expected Fëanor to scowl, angrily proclaim his youngest half brother had no right to speak that way, but the elf only glared into the floor. Fingolfin stared into the trees and Finarfin turned away, eyes clouding with pain.

Only to stare right at Aragorn.

“Fëanaro, Nolo. Swords up.”

To their credit the elves immediately stood and followed Finarfin’s gaze to Aragorn. The Ranger carefully stepped into the light as the three sons of Finwë stared him down.

“It is not polite to lurk, stranger.” Fingolfin said in the common tongue and Aragorn vaguely wondered if he’d been taught it in the halls. He put his hands up, free of weapons, and lowered his hood.

“Forgive me, my lord Fingolfin. But I had to identify if you were friend of foe. You appeared in a strange manner wearing faces of old, and the enemy is skilled in his deceit.”

“You dare accuse us of being Sauron’s creations?” Fëanor’s eyes lit with a fell fire and Aragorn would have shuddered was he not accustomed to seeing much worse from his own father. Elrond could be… rather terrifying when he decided he’d had enough of his son’s’ shenanigans.

“He was being cautious,” Finarfin retorted. “Something you could learn from considering how your life ended.”

“I didn’t know what Balrogs were!”

“The great Fëanaro admitting to not knowing something, have the end of days come at last?”

“Some would say his presence here is an indicator of that,” Fingolfin muttered as Fëanor scowled at the blond. The scowl turned to him and he met it squarely. “I said what I said.”

The situation was fast unravelling and Aragorn had Nazgul on his tail. For all his training in Elrond’s house, nothing had prepared him for dealing with three Princes - Kings??? - of the Noldor at each others throats. Sending a prayer that this wouldn’t get him skewered, he whistled sharply and the three elves spun his way. He raised his hands in apology.

“Orcs and other fell beasts roam these lands, my lords. I’d advise a quieter argument?” He grimaced at the two stunned faces, wondering when it would turn to explosive anger that ended the line of Elros once and for all.

But Finarfin tilted his head, a small smile playing about his lips.

“It takes great courage to step between the arguments of the House of Finwë. What’s your name, stranger.”

The Ranger bowed his head.

“The trees have ears, my lord, I’d take you to an Elven safehaven before telling you that. But for now, you can call me Strider.”

[agroteraa]

The Best Friend in the Whole Wide Universe

Tenth Doctor x gn!Reader

My fic masterlist

Summary: Donna Noble helps you and the Doctor sort out your feelings, but only if you help her avoid becoming a bride once again.

Tags: fluff, mutual pining.

Word Count: 4,2K

"Doctor, where are you now?" a voice came from the phone, "I need you here and now!"

"Donna? He-e-ey! Hi, how are you? You won't believe where I've been..." the Doctor began joyfully, but a voice from the phone irritably interrupted him, "RIGHT. NOW!"

You were sitting on the couch in the console room of the TARDIS and looked up from your book in surprise, "Donna? Is this that Donna?"

"Oh yes," the Doctor goggled his eyes, "And apparently we're flying to her right now! I know that tone."

You were excited. You knew that the Doctor had traveled with her before, and for quite a long time. Longer than you? Probably, you didn't know for sure. But you knew exactly what you were starting to worry. They were friends, he said, but were they? Maybe they were more than that? Maybe there was still something? You would never have started thinking that way right away if you weren't having feelings for the Doctor yourself.

A few months ago, you were finally able to understand this and admit it to yourself. But did he understand something? Of course not. And you weren't going to confess to him, you didn't want to spoil this wonderful, fantastic, brilliant friendship between you. Because he was wonderful, fantastic and brilliant. You've had so many incredible adventures, and you hoped there was much more to come. You didn't want to, couldn't spoil and complicate it all with most likely non-reciprocal feelings.

And yet you began to think more and more about the warm looks he gave you, how he constantly hugged you and hold your hand gently but firmly. He used to do this during your runnings, but recently he had been doing it just like that if he led you through or helped you step up somewhere. Sometimes holding you by the waist. God. You would never let go of his hand if it was possible. His hand was warm, with the tips of his long fingers being slightly cold.

But you tried to stop yourself from thinking with that he was just a tactile alien, just a person who was used to communicating with so many people quite that way. Especially with his companions. It was stupid to think that he was less nice to them than he was to you.

So, the chance to ruin everything was much, much greater than taking the risk and confessing your feelings to him.

Ten minutes later, the Doctor was knocking on Donna's door. Opening the door, she happily opened her mouth, squeaking and throwing herself into the arms of the alien.

"Doctor!!!"

"Donna!!!"

He hugged her and spun her around in his arms. Releasing her back to the ground, he took a step back to you, proudly declaring, "Y/N, this is Donna Noble, my best friend in the whole wide universe! Donna Noble, this is Y/N… My, well... Y/N L/N."

The doctor looked puzzled, quickly looking from you to Donna, as if he didn't know what else he could say about you. Whereas he called Donna his best friend. In the whole universe. Oh. It hurt you. Maybe you need to go through even more time travels and trials, but you thought, you wanted to believe that there was something special between you, that it was you who could be his best friend. But it turns out that he didn't even call you just a friend. He probably didn't want to offend with such a comparison after all.

Donna grinned at him.

"Hi, Y/N L/N!" she said, playfully pronouncing your name and looking you over. But she quickly returned to the Doctor, ceasing to smile, "So, now let's get back to business."

"Get back to what? You haven't even told me what happened to you!" The Doctor complained.

"You tell me! Why is it that so long after our adventures, some alien knocked on my door this morning and told me that my hour had finally come and tomorrow I would be honored and taken to the wedding? What sort of wedding?? I've had enough of running around with you from other aliens in a wedding dress, you know!"

The Doctor frowned, "What alien? Describe them."

"It’s a turquoise semi-lizard. Just like on the planet..."

"Lacertius-3!" exclaimed the Doctor.

"Yes, that's right. Where you and I were captured by some local king or something..."

"Of course! And where I told him that you would become his bride, so that..."

"YOU SAID WHAT?!"

"... so that he would let us go! How do you think we got out of there?"

"Doctor..." you interjected, gently tugging at his coat sleeve, but he didn't pay attention to it given he was busy defending himself from Donna's attacks, "Doctor!"

"Hmm?" he turned to you.

"Do these lacertises have a crest on their heads?" you asked.

"Lacertonians, not Lacertises. But yes, they do. Oh, well done, Y/N, you're learning fast from me the cognition of the universe," The Doctor chuckled approvingly, but then frowned, "But how did you know?"

You silently pointed your finger to the side, where two such lizard people were standing, who began to move towards you, "It seems we should probably-"

"RUN!" the Doctor shouted, grabbing both of you by the arms.

"No, but tell me, WHY did you promise that to that lizard king?!" Donna asked indignantly, out of breath from running.

"To save us, I told you! Well, and I didn't "promise", I just said it! And if you didn't know, and you didn't, these creatures have a habit of choosing a new partner once every hundred years..."

You barely dodged the blue beam of the blaster, and the Doctor had to jump over the guardrail.

"...but who knew that those hundred years were already coming to an end!"

"Well, YOU should have known, Mr. Smartass!" snapped Donna, sweeping a cyclist riding towards her off the road. The blasters fired a few more times after you, but you managed to turn the corner after the others in time.

You were breathing heavily, hiding in a small corner.

"Are you okay?" the Doctor asked anxiously, lightly touching your cheek, "These were most likely stun blasters, not attack blasters, but nevertheless! Did it hurt you?"

"No, Doctor, it's fine!" you assured him, running your hand over his forearm and looking into his eyes. There was a slight pause.

"I'm fine too, if anyone cares! No, just won-der-ful! Except for the fact that they want to make me the wife of some lizard! Doctor, do something about it!" demanded Donna.

You spent the rest of the day running around London, hiding from the Lacertonians as they surrounded the TARDIS and Donna's house. You sneaked your way back to the nearby cafe, from where you started to spy of the window at the TARDIS and all the lizards surrounding it and try to come up with a plan of action. The Doctor was visibly relaxed, as the whole situation did not seem too serious to him against the background of saving planets and galaxies and even "just" someone's lives. Of course, he would help, but the whole adventure was perceived by him as more of a side quest, during which he allowed himself jokes about Donna's new lizard husband and simply demonstrated a good mood from meeting an old friend.

Right now, he was sitting with you across from Donna, with his arm thrown over the couch, and eating ice cream from your bowl.

"Doctor, enough!" you jokingly protested, "You've already eaten your own, go get another portion for yourself!"

He grinned broadly, scooping up another spoonful of sherbet, "You know it tastes better this way. Besides, I don't have any Earth money!"

You moaned, pushing his spoon away from your bowl with your spoon. He deftly fended off your attack, took your spoon aside and scooped up some more ice cream, "Don't even try. I don't like weapon, but I'm definitely better at fencing than you are!"

Before you could say something indignantly, he put that spoon in his mouth, smiling innocently, lights danced in his eyes.

Donna, who was sitting opposite with a stony face, asked, "Am I bothering you two? I can invite you both to witness my apparently future wedding."

"Sorry. So, what is our plan?" the Doctor asked a little more seriously, although the smile was still playing on his lips. Before Donna could say anything, he continued, "I've already thought of everything! That!"

"A spoon...?" said still-Miss Noble, puzzled.

"Yes... Melchior! In this cafe the kitchen utensils are made of nickel silver! This alloy should reflect the rays of the P-type in its composition! Let's take some trays..."

"And lure these lizards out step by step, reflecting their paralyzing rays back into themselves!" said Donna.

"Exactly, brilliant!"

It turned out to be quite long and tedious, but Donna coped with the task best of all, in the end even stunning one of the Lacertonians with this very tray shouting "I'm not going to marry your boss!"

Laughing, the Doctor ran into the TARDIS and hugged Donna, saying, "Isn't the legendary Donna Noble the best? Oh, how I missed this!" and went to set up the spaceship for the course to the planet of the turquoise lizardmen.

"I'm warning you, it's going to take quite a long time to fly there, so you go do something… Oh no," the Doctor groaned, "They damaged the defensive system while they were trying to get in here! We need to fix it before our stop at Lacertius-3! So definitely go and get busy with something, yeah?"

That was what you did, taking a walk around the TARDIS with Donna.

"I missed it. Everything is so familiar and at the same time... unusual..." she mused, running her hand along the walls of the spaceship, "When you stop traveling with the Doctor, it starts to feel like you don't belong here anymore, even though there is such a bittersweet feeling of nostalgia, as if you have returned to your hometown or school..."

You smiled slightly, "I think he's very happy to see you and even... ready to travel with you again if you wanted to?"

"What?" asked Donna, "Oh no, my time here is over, it's your turn to enjoy it. And you seem to be doing it well," she grinned, "The Doctor's favorite companion."

"What?" it was your turn to wonder, "Didn't you hear that he called you..." your voice trembled slightly, "The best friend in the whole universe?"

She laughed, "Yes, which makes me very flattered. And the Doctor is my best friend too, even if he is far away from me now. And?"

"And... and I'm his... Y/N? Y/N L/N, to be precise, as he said."

"Yes? Would you also like to be his best-best friend? I'm sure he greatly appreciates you as a friend too, of course! It's the Doctor! I can't imagine that this man would fall in love with someone without seeing them as a close friend!"

"He would WHAT?"

"What?" Donna was no less shocked than you were, "Aren't you...? Aren't you... a thing, the two of you?"

Looking at your speechless face, Donna had an insight, "Oh, did I make a mistake? I'm sorry, Y/N, it just seemed so natural.… I wanted to ask later, but it's good that it happened between us now. I thought you liked him, I'm sorry. Are you sure it’s not the case?"

"I..." you could barely mumble it softly, feeling your cheeks fill with heat, "Like him..."

"Oh...OH," and now Donna had a final insight, "This man. This SPACEMAN. Sure. I should have known. I'll go and tell him everything..."

"What? No, no, no, what are you going to tell him??" You barely managed to stop Donna in her determined stride back to the console room of the TARDIS, where the Doctor was still fiddling with the protective field settings.

"That he's the biggest idiot in the universe. In case he didn't know about it yet, but apparently he didn't."

"What do you mean?"

Now she stopped herself, "I didn't know it makes the two of you here… Are you serious right now?"

"Don't tell me he likes me too. I mean, likes me so much so that..."

"What do you think, Y/N? From the minute he introduced you, I felt there was some other energy here. And I sense it, believe me! You've been acting like a couple the whole day. The way he held your hand, asking if everything was okay.… Oh, and the cafe? Do I really need to say that I felt like a third wheel on your date? If this isn't flirting, then what is?"

You were embarrassed, "We were just chatting and sitting there… As usual."

"And how often does he usually throw his arm around you and hugs you?"

"He what? We were just sitting next to each other! His hand was on the couch..."

"... lying almost on your shoulder. Oh, please, Y/N." Donna twisted her smile.

You were visibly confused, "I can understand all this... probably… But nothing else is happening, right?"

"And it won't happen as long as the two of you..." she began, but was pushed back against the wall of the TARDIS with you. You heard the Doctor's voice, "We're here!"

"Please don't say anything to him now! Donna, I'm serious! I'll handle this on my own, okay?" you pleaded. You still couldn't believe what she'd said, and you definitely wanted to think about it some more.

But there was really no time to continue the conversation – you were immediately captured by a series of adventures on the planet Lacertius-3: you soon met a girl of another race, the adventurer Piich, who told you that you could try to appease the lizard king with an ancient treasure, showed you the way through the red lush jungles to the temple, where you had your daily portion of running through the traps (although the most dangerous thing was enraged Donna). The ancient treasure, of course, turned out to be a product of technology from a completely different forgotten alien race (but, of course, the Doctor knew about it).

Then Piich helped you get into the king's castle, where you were hiding from the guards, running away from the guards, and eventually tried to appease the king with the treasure, who immediately forgot about it after seeing an alien girl who helped you on your travels. But did she help?

To your great luck, Piich forgot about her initial plan and about her upcoming reward, which she wanted to get by giving Donna to the lizard king, because, to even greater luck, the lizard king forgot about Donna when he saw Piich, and decided to make Piich his new wife. Unlike the human red-haired woman, this alien girl was not at all opposed to marrying the king of an entire planet, albeit modest in its size.

Everyone was left satisfied and having their feet sore. And personally, you also got the vague feeling that the Doctor was acting a little strange and distant, communicating more with Donna the rest of the day than with you.

You were invited to a feast, but you all refused it. The Doctor, because he didn't like feasts, Donna, because she found out that the king has a crown prince and wouldn’t he just dare to lay his lizard eyes on her. And you, who didn't have an appetite and mood at all because of the whole thing with the Doctor and that interrupted conversation with Donna. You decided to finish it while the Doctor was chatting lively with Piich and congratulating the future newlyweds.

"See?" You said softly to Donna, pointing to the Doctor and how he nicely communicated with Piich and hugged her tightly, "I'm far from being the only one in the universe with whom the Doctor behaves like this. Plus, I know how many companions he had. I won’t believe he was any less sweet to them than he was to me."

"You've got to believe it. Moreover, there will be another proof soon. A-a-and… now!" Donna elbowed you lightly. At that moment, the Doctor, continuing his conversation with Peach and the lizard king, began to look around the room and finally saw you and smiled so broadly. You couldn't help but smile back, and he slightly but merrily jumped up a little on the spot and continued his conversation with two aliens.

"How did you know he was going to turn around??"

"See? Secrets of the Time Lords," Donna smirked, "Seriously, Y/N, it doesn't take a minute for the Doctor to look at you, no matter where you are! Don't you notice that? If that's the case, you can thank me and take it as a sign to act at last."

You stood there, amazed once again, and your slightly numb brain could only come up with, "Yes, but... Rose?..."

Donna paused, and then continued, "What do you mean? She was... a long time ago. And as I see it, he's finally happy now again, really happy. He allowed himself to be like that. With you. Do you understand, Y/N, how he looks at you? It's not just a gaze of a friend. He laughs, smiles like a child, a happy child. And all other things he does with you. Because of you. No, just... don't argue. I’ve traveled with him and have known him for a long time to say that he has never looked at others or me like that. And he won't ever. I'm just his best friend in the whole wide universe, after all."

She smiled.

"Now go and do something about it, you two."

You were finally back on the spaceship. Before launching the TARDIS, the Doctor was leaning against the frame of the open door, dreamily but slightly sadly admiring the view of the blooming red jungle with silver flowers. You knew what he was thinking, because he often told you about his home planet.

"Just like on Gallifrey..." he said with a mixture of nostalgia and longing in his voice and added softly, "I wish I could take you there."

Your eyes met, and there was silence. Your heart skipped a beat, making you remember the conversation you had with Donna before.

"Doctor, I..."

"Well! Let's go home, then!" he interrupted you, abruptly turning deep into the TARDIS, he went to the console, intending to take off. You followed him, not knowing what exactly you wanted to say to him, but you didn't want to left the dialogue like that. But the Doctor didn't seem to be paying attention to you, fiddling with the buttons on the console with slightly trembling hands, carefully avoiding your gaze.

"Hey, Doc, wait!" said Donna, "I want to walk around here a little more. It's not that I'm visiting another planets so much these days, you know," she winked and headed outside the TARDIS.

"Wait, wait, wait, Donna, I'm going with you!" the Doctor protested and was about to left with her. Well. He didn't even want to continue the dialogue and listen to what you were going to tell him.

But still-Miss Noble turned him and said through clenched teeth, "No, Spaceman, you stay here, I want to go for a walk ALONE. Do you understand me?" she scowled at him and before the Doctor could object, she slammed the TARDIS door shut, leaving the two of you alone.

The silence returned to you again, and the Doctor came back to the TARDIS console. Usually you did not understand most of his manipulations with technology, but even you already began to feel that his actions were meaningless at that moment.

"Doctor..." you started.

"So, now we'll set up a return route and I should probably do a condition check of the ship, in case something is damaged again..." he muttered.

"Doctor!"

He turned around, there was an almost unreadable mix of emotions in his eyes, so many of them were at one point in time.

You came a little closer, "Doctor, I... want to talk to you, if I may."

"Yes, Y/N?" his eyebrows started to rise up slightly pleadingly.

"You said that Donna is your best friend in the whole universe."

"That's right!" The Doctor smiled broadly, feeling slightly relieved, thinking that this was the point of the conversation, "She's brilliant, isn't she? Now you've seen it for yourself!"

"And then who am I?"

He stopped smiling for a moment, swallowed, and then a nervous wry smile began to appear on his face along with a red color on his cheeks.

"Y-you... well, you're also my… best friend, of course!"

"Isn't the point of a best friend that there can only be one?"

"Yes!" the Doctor readily agreed.

"Then how is this possible?" you wondered.

"Well, Donna is my best platonic friend," the Doctor replied, not realizing what trap he had just walked himself into.

"What kind of friend am I, then?" you asked.

"And you... are… not platonic..." he said slowly and softly, turning even redder.

You'd just noticed that with every question and answer you took a step towards each other, and now you were inches apart. Your own cheeks started to burn from that realization.

He was so close now, you looked at his beautiful face and once again wanted to count all the freckles on it. Your gaze moved from his thin nose to his thin but sensual lips, and then to expressive eyes of the color of a melted chocolate.

"Can you explain to me it better..?" You almost whispered, raising your eyes to him.

The Doctor brought his face close to yours with his mouth slightly open and his eyelids half-closed, lightly hugged your shoulders. You began to hear his breath and the beating of his two hearts, which became louder and louder. It was all happening like in a slow motion.

And then he kissed you.

It was a very gentle and careful kiss, you could feel the tingle from his warm, slightly electrified lips, which sent goosebumps through your whole body. He pulled back a bit to see your reaction, his eyes expressing a mixture of tenderness and incredible seriousness, bordering on the almost immobility of his gaze.

Your hands moved to his waist during the kiss, and they stayed there.

"Yes." was all you said, reaching out to him and kissing him back more firmly. With a loud exhale and a light moan, he deepened the kiss, which made you want to moan yourself, increasing the degree of emotion every turning second.

It was as if his lips were made for yours, as if they were pieces of a puzzle that had once been there. Like himself as a whole, it was one big piece of the puzzle that had finally come together, completely and irrevocably.

After a lips-to-lips kiss that seemed to last forever, he ran his tongue over your lower lip, asking for permission to go inside. Did he need that permission? Of course not, but you were glad that he asked it non-verbally anyway.

You opened your mouth slightly and the Doctor, sighing noisily, slipped his tongue deep into you. It felt like some sort of a human and alien heaven already, but now it had become absolutely impossibly good. Your tongues danced with each other as your legs felt weak, your whole body seemed to melt in the Doctor's arms. Your Doctor’s arms.

Your arms, which had been hugging his neck for a long time, moved to his hair, burrowing into it. Oh, how you'd wanted to touch them for a long time. Not to ruffle them jokingly like you'd done a couple of times before, but... like this. As if you had every right to do that. Now you probably really had it now, and that made your legs even wobblier.

You pulled his hair lightly, which made the Doctor moan slightly, and you felt his arms tighten around you. It seems that both of you were ready to split into atoms from all the feelings that overwhelmed you.

It was a wonderful feeling of the nucleating supernova of your love.

"Doctor, I..." it was all you could say after that, to which he just happily exhaled, smiling broadly, looking into your eyes and gently holding your shoulders, being not able to say anything himself.

You were amazed not only by what happened, but also by how quickly it all happened. Then it began to dawn on you. You smiled a little.

"Let me guess... Did Donna talk to you too?"

While the Doctor was taking a deep breath to give some long, babbling answer, at that moment the door of the TARDIS slightly opened, from where Miss Noble herself stepped inside.

"Of course. Because how else could you two figure it out?" she replied nonchalantly, "Now I have every right to invite you two to my future wedding. NOT with an alien husband, I emphasize, otherwise I'll put you at different tables, and you'll just sit here and only be giving Y/N all the hopeless looks again, Doctor. Waiting and dying for my wedding dance all day long, so that after it you can get to and finally invite Y/N to dance or something like that!"

You laughed happily with the Doctor, still holding together and looking into each other's eyes, realizing that this just sounded like the first plan for your future together, one of the many, very many plans in this whole wide universe.

[themodernmarriage]

A fun new toy

As a surprisingly 'vanilla' couple (besides the whole chastity thing obviously !), we don't really have much in the way on 'bondage / bdsm' gear, other than some simple wrist restraints. These were purchased when I unlocked him once for teasing and had to leave the room to fetch something and I came back and saw him making contact with my nub. I missed most of it but it looked like he had run his index finger from the balls all the way up the shaft to the tip, which is obviously against our rules. Since then, I have never trusted him to control his hands while unlocked, so they are restrained during all releases. I recently made a new 'toy' purchase after seeing it in a twitter post. This device is a simple black wooden 'stockade' toy called a 'Humbler'. You pull the male's testicles between his legs and insert them through a gap and then tighten the two pieces in order to trap them behind his legs. The ring of his chastity cage makes it quite easy to get his balls in the right position to tighten the screws, and once tightened the humbler and the cage make really neat little package.

The humbler is shaped in such a way that the sides press up against the back of his legs. This pulls his balls back sharply and makes it nearly impossible for him to stand up straight. This is delightful to watch, as it makes him move around in a constant 'bowing' position as if he's in constant deference to me - which, of course, he is ;). The humbler that I got has eye bolts on each side which you attach your male's wrist restraints to, so that they are firmly attached to his sides, and any attempts to move them pull sharply on his tightly trapped balls.

I have found myself using it fairly regularly - to the point where I’ve called it his ‘uniform’. If I feel like having him give me head before bed, I’m put on his new uniform and make him work really hard 😂. It’s super hot when he’s going down on me and his arms are tightly strained back and his back is arched to relieve pressure on his balls, which are beautifully presented behind him and within easy reach for a squeeze or slap. He quickly works up a sweat, and the amount of leaking from the chastity cage must mean it gets his juices flowing too, so to speak. It has made my think I need to get a dildo gag so that he can please me with that while still locked in the humbler.

I also use it every time I unlock him for teasing. He lies on his back with humbler on and his hands locked to the sides of the humbler. He needs to arch his back to relieve pressure, which is pretty hard work for his abs. In this position his balls are pulled far back and are out of the way with his nub cage presented beautifully forward. When I unlock the cage and he gets hard, it sticks straight up in there air like a flagpole with the nub skin very tightly pulled. This makes it very easy to tickle, stroke and whip, which is most ideal. After the teasing I leave him in this position until the stress and fatigue helps him get the nub back to cageable size for locking.

All in all, a really fun new addition!

[gayraeofsun]

i just really want to scream about this movie into the void because it was so well done, and i doubt anyone will really see this but i don't really have anyone i could have a deep discussion about this with.

trigger warning and spoiler warning ahead for the movie blink twice. content ahead discusses themes around sa, including r*pe, drugging, manipulation, and general physical/verbal abuse.

i don't keep up with any previews or recent movie releases much anymore, so i was going into this movie almost completely blind like i do with most new movies anymore. i had seen one preview, but it was apparently plain and simple enough for me to mostly forget about it. the irony in that will be made known a bit later on.

the movie automatically opens with a screen that displays a trigger warning, which is something that i had been seeing for the first time in any kind of visual media. normally these things are already listed by the ratings, but as a sa survivor who had no idea what this movie was going to be, it was a good thing to see so i could brace myself for what was to come. do i think this is necessary for any and every movie of this kind? no, it feels a little redundant (again, these things are typically included in the ratings). and, well, asking me to not watch if it would upset me is kind of a no deal, since i paid for a ticket and popcorn to see this on the big screen.

we're immediately introduced to our two main characters, two best friends, and it's hard to not immediately fall for their relationship with each other. so playful and silly and ridiculous, you can immediately tell they adore each other's company in their shitty job living in their shitty apartment, and you can tell that they're written by a woman who loves these characters and wants to portray them as relatable people. the interactions between the whole cast of girls, i think, was just outstandingly done. they felt realistic, not constantly shitting on each other and fighting for the attention of the men (though some jealousy of that fashion is still portrayed). they were all there enjoying the island and they ended up bonding together wonderfully. they were funny without being over-the-top rude or nasty or promiscuous, as is portrayed commonly in female characters in popular media. i can't and won't stop gushing over how much these characters felt just like real life girls that i was hanging out with.

this movie was really great at putting a pit in your stomach and slowly making it grow. of course, the trigger warning at the beginning spoils what's to come, so for me the pit was there from the start. any sensible person who's been socialized to be a woman will know, you don't ever just run away with some random ass group of men you don't know to the middle of nowhere with no cell service. but the little things that make the main character, frida, stop and question are so subtle, and so easily dismissed to start with. the used lip gloss in the drawer, the available clothes despite being an "unexpected" guest, the weird cleaning staff. but they increasingly get more odd. the island is full of venomous snakes and they all have to be killed on sight. something about these flirty interactions isn't quite right anymore, and he's talking about repressed memories. what day even is it? why am i always waking up with dirt under my nails?

who even knows or cares though, since we're all high and/or drunk 24/7. welcome to paradise!

it builds and builds until it begins to unravel, slowly and then all at once as the girls come to the realization of what happens to them every night when they get unbelievably high after dinner. the bond between the first two to piece it together was outstanding, and i love that there wasn't a cheap "find the phones and call authorities" plan. they worked out why that wouldn't work at all, because who would they believe? the "hysterical bitches" making claims without any kind of solid evidence, or the rich white man who's now a reformed soul and probably good friends with some of the cops?

the ending is not a happy one, in my eyes, though i believe it was probably supposed to be portrayed as one? two girls live and three girls die by the end. the ringmaster (ceo) of the whole thing ends up accidentally taking his own forgetfulness juice and suddenly doesn't understand what's going on and why all his friends are dead or have been otherwise brutalized. he knocks over lit candles and then trips and knocks himself out in his stupor, and the island burns down, the photographic evidence (that was later discovered) and all. i thought it was just going to end there and we would be left with the ambiguous ending, and that's never satisfying and feels very overdone anymore.

but instead, we're given a scene where our main character is now the ceo of the company, and legally married to the man who lured her away and horrifically abused her. twice. i interpreted this as her getting her own form of justice/revenge. i doubt she gives him half the treatment he gave her, but now she controls him and everything he owns and knew, and gets every bit of respect she wants. he killed her best friend and two other girls after overpowering the lot of them every single night. in a perfect world, he'd get tried and punished for his crimes legally. but all the evidence of it ever happening burned to the ground. so this is what she does to cope. in the final scene, she seems very satisfied, more than pleased to make her new husband's old crew squirm. she becomes the thing that destroyed her and so many others (but yk, most likely without the rapist cult).

one character i very suddenly grew interested in was the scrawniest boy in the group. he flies perfectly under the radar and doesn't appear in many of scenes that portray the gruesome sa. the one where he's in clear view, he appears to be another victim, trying to flee from one of the bigger men and receiving a black eye, which he would have no memory of getting the next morning. he's told by one of the girls that he smells nice, most likely referencing the perfume that was making them forget everything. it seemed very clear that he was in a victim role here as well, likely also being sa-ed. but he's never seen bound and gagged with the girls.

his final scene gets interesting when the ceo berates him for doing nothing to help the girls the entire time (yeah, the same ceo millionaire who's been basically orchestrating this whole sick fucking show in his perfect little getaway island). how he thinks there's a special place in hell for people who sit and do nothing in the face of evil. there are two very different ways to interpret this. 1) he wasn't actually getting drugged and abused with the girls, and was there as someone who didn't actively participate in abusing the girls, but also didn't do anything to try to stop it either. this could be blatant commentary on the two types of evil; while "not all men" r*pe and abuse people, not enough men will speak out against it or try to run to the victim's defense. or 2) the ceo was casting blame onto someone who was genuinely confused as to what was happening (which seems to ring true in both scenarios), and someone who was also a victim and stuck in a completely helpless situation. both could hold some level of truth, but ultimately i read him as the latter, thinking he was meant to represent the less common male victim. he gets killed by one of the girls, who wasn't specifically targeting him but also wasn't taking any chances, and that's the last we see of him. in my eyes he could either be read as the kind of evil that merely observes and therefore was rightfully murdered, or he could represent his male victims often get forgotten about or less acknowledged, which could speak as to why he was killed off so quickly never to be discussed again.

and i've gotta say, one thing i really appreciate about the scenes depicting r*pe is that it put a lot of the focus on the r*pists and not their victims. they were careful to not show any nudity or any shots of the women getting r*ped, but still showed them getting forced down when they tried to flee. i have not personally seen any other graphic scenes of this nature in other movies, but from what i hear a lot of it can get rather pornographic, and i feel like that's incredibly distasteful when you're trying to depict something that's absolutely vile. this movie does a great job of getting the absolute terror of the moment across without compromising any of the actresses by posing them seductively or showing off their bodies, and same goes for the men (if you don't count a couple of them being shirtless).

the writing is so wonderful, and the little clues as to what's happening beneath the surface are so good and plentiful. this is a movie that i don't think i'd ever be able to sit through again, but the sense of dread that continued to grow and grow will surely stick with me. it was very darkly funny in many places, which did great to break up some of the tension. for anyone who was able to stomach it, i would highly recommend watching through it once you're able. i think it was outstandingly well done and handled certain things as well as it could without watering any of it down.

[johnbrand]

Screen Froze

Podcasting had become inescapable in recent years. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on...well everything. Politics, world sports, cooking, an obscure movie from 1978 only released in a now-extinct language. If it could be covered, it would be. And one could find this content anywhere across the internet. Youtube, social media, even streaming services promoted their podcasters. Everyone was watching everyone talking. 

Of course, with so many different podcasters flying about, it was difficult to actually spot out talent. And from a sociologically micro perspective, it was even harder for individuals to find podcasters discussing the content they actually wanted to hear about. The more unique the niche, the less people one could happen upon to be talking about it during their recorded stream of consciousness. It was a simple formula, but it forced individuals to browse for hours or even days to find what they were searching for.

Sometimes though, people could not hold such patience. They would not wait for their new hero, a disciple preaching their values and morals to audiences around the globe. They would skip past one livestream discussing the economics of green villages in Switzerland to the next debating the potential existence between a minor character in two separate fandom universes. They could even perhaps land into a podcast like Sean’s.

“Most people just don’t understand the Soviet Union’s impact on architecture,” the measly, pale nerd innocently commented. A little shy in front of the camera, he was only able to relax a bit when discussing his favorite topics. Sean dressed in theme too, wearing a brutalist-like business casual outfit, a trait his small but dedicated fanbase adored.

“There were a lot of architects that really shaped this movement from all around the world,” Sean continued. “But today, we are just going to focus on those from the USSR.”

So what happened when one’s patience dried up? Well, everything was brought to a halt.

DragonHeart49: anyone else’s screen freeze? superduperloverboy: mine too <3bitsandmore: sean, I think ur glitching out

With the screen frozen, our impatient soul could now get to work. If one could not find the podcast they were looking for, then why not just create their own? Obviously, this did not mean constructing a podcast themselves, but rather alter the fabric of reality and completely realign another’s being to their preferred state. That was much easier.

Physical modifications were made first. A much larger body was necessary, something that demanded confidence and respect from others. Juicy pecs, rippling abs, sturdy legs. There was always something unreasonably fun in bloating the podcaster’s feet up a few sizes. An imposing frame to be craved by others, even when hidden underneath clothes, was priority. And speaking of clothes, those were quickly stripped down to less formal articles. Expensive branded tee, athletic shorts so small that boxer-briefs were visible, classic white Nike socks, all of it much more respectable than a button-up and tie.

This was not the impatient soul’s first time altering a podcaster to their liking, nor would it be their last. Physically at least, each of the end products were a little different. All alpha males, but just enough variation to not warrant any unnecessary rumors. This particular podcaster had his pre-American heritage redirected from France to India, the features in the screenshot tanning accordingly as a dark stubble acquainted itself along the sharper jawline. Of course, the bulge was accurately enlarged for geographical standards too.

Mentally however, all the podcasters could be considered copies. They each spoke of the same rhetoric, theories, and ideologies that our impatient soul wanted to hear. No matter how “backwards” or “hateful” their discussions were deemed as, nearly anything could be said by hulking bodies with undeniable charisma.

“These homos have no idea what they’re talking about!” Sanjay raged as the podcast restarted, his deep voice cocky and assertive. "Sure bro, I was just thinkin’ about a girl’s rack I saw earlier today but there's more to a girl than big tits. There's a tight pussy too!”

The chat section lit off with encouragement, their fates too having been altered.

MassiveFART69: you tell them fags bro! LOL XD crassmassschlongnator: we want to BREED THEM TOO!!!! <3TITSGALORE: JUST TALKIN ABOUT IT ALREADY GOT SANJAY GRABBIN HIMSELF AGAIN

Sanjay vacantly looked down, finding himself already subconsciously scratching at the thick bush within his shorts. He let out a hot protein fart followed by a laugh, his scratching slowly extending into groping his fat 8 inch babymaker.

“God, that was WET bros!” Sanjay applauded himself, his free massive hand swallowing the mic. “Anyway, I’ll catch you on the flip side dudes, gotta go hit the gym. Bros for life!”

There was a reason the traditional masculine movement was becoming stronger. Maybe it was because men were slowly aspiring to become the alphas’ equals, or because fags were beginning to submit to their nature. Or possibly, it could have been because each time a screen froze, reality was altered one click closer to traditional, normal masculinity.

[thegreengnome]

You could write something about aemond x wife pregnant reader. While she's asleep he starts talking to her belly and the baby starts kicking? :3

Of course! I hope you like it!

Hatchling

The mighty Targaryen prince had never felt so relaxed before, he dares not move for fear of ruining the peace. Here he lay his wife next to him, there legs entwined together. The fire in the chambers slowly dying down, the keep quiet as everyone slept and most importantly soft intake and releases of the women sleeping next to him lulling him into a sleep.

In their chambers and next to Y/N he was not a warrior, not the one-eyed prince that many feared, he was simply Aemond. The husband.

A shift in the bed next to him caught his attention. His wife lay asleep but no longer in content and peace. Her face had screwed up, a pout forming on her lips as she tried once again to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

Her growing belly brushing up against his side as she twists and turns. This pregnancy had come as a surprise to the couple. Having been married for two years the couple had not thought they would be blessed by the gods. Aemond had his love with him, if they could not add to their family, he knew they would be alright. They had each other, but the gods did decide to gift them a babe, a true blessing for the pair. A hatchling of their very own.

The sweet girl had recently felt the negative effects of this pregnancy. Her gowns had been too tight for the maids to fasten and the pains in her back had Y/N asking for daily rubs from her husband, the pregnancy had been hard on the first-time mother.

Aemond could recall the day Y/N had told him the news- the happy tears appearing in the crinkle of her eyes and the embrace between them that seemed to last a lifetime. It was a day that he would forever keep in his mind. A day his family became complete.

The shifting began again. The pout forming and the crease appearing between her brows. This would not do- Aemond could not lie in peace while his wife suffered.

Sliding is arm around Y/N’s back – drawing her body closer Aemond cupped the belly that was causing so much trouble. Soothing the taut skin by rubbing it back and forth. Aemond leans closer to his child, continuing his motions.

“Be calm ñuha riña (my child). You are disturbingmuña” The kick against his hand had him huffing out a laugh.

“We have waited so long for you”

Back and forth his hand went, never slowing the comforting rhythm.

“You are not even here and we love you so much” Aemond could imagine it now. Teaching his child to wield a blade, taking them out on Vhagar for daily flights. Reading them to sleep, and teaching them right from wrong.

Leaning further down towards the child “You have the most wonderful older cousins. Jaehaerys believes you to be a boy while Jaehaera thinks you to be a girl. Whatever you will be, you are a Targaryen, a member of a fierce and proud family, but most importantly you will be our child. Fiercely loved by your parents and the most special babe in this entire world”

The twists and turns had come to an end, the babe now still in their mother’s stomach. Their father quietly talked to them, informing the babe of their future life. Their mother is now awake. A twitch of her lips as she listened to her husband converse with their unborn babe.

[whumpmasinjuly]

Now introducing the prompt list for Whumpmas in July 2024! 

Thank you for patiently waiting! As a reminder, we will not be reblogging any creations on this blog and will instead keep this blog as a space to only post the prompts, tags, and relevant information. We will post the tag for each day, and we ask that you use two tags when filling prompts this year so that others may find your creations easily:  Tag 1 —> #wij24day__ (Fill in the blank with the appropriate day number for the prompt you are filling! For example, if you are doing the prompt for day 21, make sure to tag your post with #wij24day21.)

Tag 2 —> #whumpmasinjuly2024 Be sure to also tag @whumpmasinjuly-archive if you would like your posts reblogged to our new official archive account! Of course, feel free to use any other relevant tags too! You can also find a banner that you can use in your posts (if you want, not required) under the #wijbanner tag.

The prompts are divided into three categories: community (red boxes), question (green boxes), and creation (white boxes). Everyone is free to participate as much or as little as they want–there’s no completionist requirement! This list provides a preview of the prompts, but on each day a more detailed post will be released with more context and additional suggestions for each day’s task. Similar to previous years, all prompts and other important information will be found under the #infowhumpmasinjuly tag and #infowij24 for ease of access. This blog will also use the tags #wijquestion , #wijcommunity , and #wijprompt respectively for each post so that you can filter and find the type of prompts you’d like to do. 

Below the cut is a text list of this year’s prompts:

1. (Re)Introduce yourself 2. What are your top three favorite whump tropes? 3. "______ deserved it" 4. Post a whump prompt for someone else to fill on Day 28 5. Share a TV show, movie, or any media that gives you the whumperflies! 6. Left Behind 7. Post a link to your favorite whump fic of all time! 8. Describe your favorite type of whumper 9. Mind Games 10. Check out a new whump blog and drop them an ask 11. What songs/playlists are perfect for whumpy daydreaming? 12. Caught 13. Share some of your favorite niche whump tags! 14. Describe the ideal fic you've always wanted to read, but have yet to find/haven't written yet. 15. A Soft Reprieve 16. Create a whump meme! 17. What has been your most recent whump obsession? 18. "Or else" 19. Create a list of some of your favorite whump blogs to share! 20. What character do you wish to see whumped more in canon/fan-made media? 21. Abandoned 22. Find a story/author you've never engaged with before, and leave some nice comments! 23. What is your favorite type of whump setting? 24. Denial 25. Share a sneak peek of something you're working on 26. Describe your favorite type of whumpee 27. Delirium 28. Fill someone's whump prompt from Day 4 29. When did you get your first whumperflies? 30. "I'm here" 31. Who is someone in the whump-creating world that you admire and why?