#and there is no need to spread the word if the word has already been spread.....

[ultramaga]

", a pew research center study found that 60% identify as moderate or liberal" Not linked, no definition supplied, Leftists call anyone not a Leftist a Nazi - or if they feel generous, they might, as you did, say Nazi-adjacent. "Liberal" is an empty noise where a word used to be, with contradictory definitions. Meanwhile, even Leftist propaganda outlets are conceding the tide is changing.

"parties such as Emmanuel Macron centrist party have taken more progressive views" Progress towards what, exactly? Because Progress used to mean the inevitable spread of America across the globe. Then the Marxists said Progress meant the West would fall to communism before the East. Then Progress suddenly became the castration of children. Progress is a buzzword, a space where ideas used to be. It is undefined, like "woman". "In Spain's socialist party(PSOE) which has once been considered center left" By WHO? You keep making claims with no substantiation. It is a socialist party. For it to do socialist things, like declaring that socialism means everyone can sit about and the work will somehow do itself, is par for the course. Socialists promise whatever it takes to get into power, because the foundational statement is "Reality is a Social Construct". That is, control people's minds and you control reality. Consensus is all. Which is why you get absurdities like arguing that 2+2 might equal five and that humans have an infinite number of sexes. Socialism has no interest in what humanity regards as truth, it only cares about power, and sees everything as involved in power only. The personal is political because EVERYTHING is political. Which is why all Leftist art devolved to dull propaganda.

Imagine there is a gif from the game Concord here. Tumblr doesn't have one. BECAUSE EVEN SOCIALISTS DON'T PLAY SOCIALIST GAMES. SOCIALISM MAKES FOR STUPID AND BORING ENTERTAINMENT, BECAUSE IT DEMANDS EVERYTHING BE A BORING SERMON.

But the numbers don't lie. Overwhelmingly, the numbers can be seen on Steam etc. Socialist games fail, capitalist games succeed.

Socialism inevitably fails - the only achievement it ever has is in destruction, and that only succeeds up to the point where it alienates people so successfully that they shoot socialists on sight.

Frankly, I don't think that is far off.

In fact, a quick look at the Leftism tag finds post after post inciting terrorist attacks. Leftists want, they demand, blood. Because they can't win without violence, without killing all those people who use logic and evidence.

Leftists declared they would punch "Nazis", despite the NSDAP being dead long before any of them were born. They just assaulted or killed anyone they deemed an opponent - and mostly, only if they could catch them alone and unarmed. The rioters steered far clear of the States where citizens could defend themselves. Leftists NEED the citizens to be helpless before they can succeed. Antifa is already a terrorist organisation in many countries. How long until they are shot on sight in America?

Donald J. Trump

@realDonaldTrump

"The United States of America will be designating ANTIFA as a Terrorist Organization."

I think people's patience is running dry. The declaration by Leftists that they will be sexually targetting children was a step too far, and their inability to talk to anyone outside their bubble means that they can no longer stay in contact with mainstream humanity.

When Leftists insisted that children attend their sex shows, it became clear that this had nothing to do with gay rights and everything to do with perverts seizing power.

Perverts in charge of nuclear arsenals. Thanks to Leftism.

https://www.houstonchronicle.com/lifestyle/article/houston-designer-says-ex-biden-staffer-stole-17803723.php

Now, don't get me wrong, Biden's Pardon Party means many Leftists will never be charged for their crimes against humanity, but the People aren't going to forgive the folks who raped their kids that easily, nor will they forgive the ones who covered for them. Remember when mentioning Hunter Biden's laptop would get your account closed on social media, because it was official policy that only a Nazi would claim that Hunter Biden did drugs? And now Daddy Biden pardons him for year after year of crimes. After years of saying he wouldn't do it. I understand that the corruption and decadence of Leftism will take years to sweep away, but you know what? The brooms are being readied. Pronouns are already disappearing from bios in the Democrats. OAC was just ahead of the curve.

The Young Turks suddenly abandoned Leftism, although Ana had clearly been unhappy with it for years, and had clearly cheered on Trump as the votes began to tally.

Go back and watch Ana the first time Trump won, and compare that to the second time.

Across the globe, the tide is turning.

I have said it before - I think Leftism is escalating, and it will inevitably become just another terrorist organisation, like The Weathermen. What's that? You've never heard of them? Because they escalated to violence, and then were shot? Yes. Nobody cares about The Weathermen, and soon, nobody will give a damn about the Leftists. Their day is done.

I understand - there will always be evil in the world. It will revive in some new form. But the castration cultists always had a timer ticking. There's no future in a movement that tries to stop the birth of children. Humanity will not agree with its own destruction.

if you voted for trump, block me. you're a horrible fucking person.

[kiwriteswords]

Omg based on the gifs you reblogged with our man and his tight shirts, could you write a story (maybe christmas) where Reader keeps buying Hotch shirts that are too tight and hes like why? and has to explain lololol

He's a little bit older...got a bit of a dad bod [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: >1k|| AN: omg YES. YESS. YES. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. The title is a nod to Sabrina Carpenter's Christmas Song! xoxo

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, dad bod Hotch, Hotch x His Tight Button-Ups, Christmas Morning, Christmas activities, Gift Giving, Established Relationship, BAU Reader, mentions of weight changes/body changes, Jack is present, age-gap relationship

Summary: You really...really love Hotch in his tight button-ups, so you choose not to size up this Christmas for his gifts.

Aaron Hotchner woke early on Christmas morning, the subtle glow of winter light filtering through the curtains. The tree in the living room twinkled with lights, the gifts beneath it carefully wrapped. Hotch was always the first to rise, a habit from years of early morning cases. Today, though, it was the excitement that nudged him from sleep. This Christmas was special—not just because of the holiday, but because he was sharing it with you and Jack.

You stirred beside him, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you felt him shift. "Morning," you murmured, your voice thick with sleep but bright with the day's joy.

"Morning," Hotch replied, his voice low. He watched as you stretched, the corners of your eyes crinkling with a smile. "Ready to see what Santa brought?"

You laughed, the sound as warm as the blankets piled around you. "Only if I get coffee first."

Hotch grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed to start the coffee. By the time he returned with two steaming mugs, Jack was already rummaging through the stockings, his excitement palpable.

The morning passed in a flurry of ripped wrapping paper and joyful exclamations. Hotch couldn't help but feel a profound sense of contentment watching you and Jack. You had integrated into their lives seamlessly, bringing a lightness to their home that Hotch hadn't realized was missing.

When Jack finally settled down with his new video games, Hotch found you in the kitchen, tidying up the remnants of the morning’s chaos. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Thank you for the shirts," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "But I think I might need a bigger size these days."

You turned in his arms, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh? And why is that?" you teased.

Hotch chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Well, it seems I've filled out a bit more than I used to." He wasn't ashamed of it—his body had changed, but he felt strong, healthy. And if the way your gaze lingered on him lately was any indication, you didn't seem to mind the changes either.

Your smile widened, and you reached up to trace the collar of his shirt, the fabric taut across his shoulders. "I've noticed," you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. "And I have to say, I really like it. The way your shirts fit now... it’s incredibly attractive."

Aaron Hotchner felt a familiar warmth spread through him, a warmth that had nothing to do with the coffee or the fire crackling in the living room. He was acutely aware of the changes in his body over the years. He wasn't as lean as he had been when Jack was born, or even when you first met him. Getting older, his fitness routine was not quite what it once was; he sometimes worried about how these changes were perceived, especially by someone younger like you.

"Yeah?" he asked, a part of him needing to hear more, to understand how you saw him.

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his jaw. "Yeah. It suits you. It’s…really hot," you confessed, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Hotch laughed, the sound rich and full of genuine happiness. He pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist. "Well, I'm glad you think so," he said, and then, softer, "because there's no one else's opinion I care about more than yours."

You blushed at his words, your eyes shining with affection. "Good," you said simply. Then, with a teasing poke to his chest, you added, "Maybe Santa should bring you some more of those shirts next year."

Hotch pretended to consider it, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Only if Santa agrees to keep making comments on how hot they look on me."

"You have no idea," you laughed, leaning in closer. "Sometimes, at work, it's honestly a little distracting." Your voice dropped to a playful whisper, "There are meetings where I'm definitely more focused on your...shirt situation than the case briefings."

Hotch's eyebrows rose, his lips curving into a smirk at your confession. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone equally teasing.

"Absolutely," you affirmed with a nod. "Especially when you're up there giving a profile, all serious and command-mode with your suit jacket off... It’s a lot to handle," you grinned, poking him again gently.

Hotch's laughter filled the kitchen, deep and heartfelt. He pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist. "Well, I'll have to make sure take the jacket off more often then, just to keep things interesting," he quipped.

"I'd appreciate that," you said, your eyes alight with mischief. "Maybe I'll even start a personal rating system for them. You know, to provide feedback."

"Looking forward to your reviews," Hotch replied, the warmth in his voice reflecting the warmth in his chest. This easy banter, the shared smiles, they made everything feel right.

This Christmas, like all the moments since you'd joined his life, felt complete. Hotch knew there would be challenges ahead, cases to solve, and long nights. But with you by his side, sharing whispers and stolen kisses between cups of coffee and Christmas lights, he felt ready for anything.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

@iyskgd

[namism]

lost | seishiro nagi

➳ categories: canonverse, breaking up, angst, communication problems, gender neutral reader

➳ word count: 1.7k

➳ summary: Nagi breaks up with you nonchalantly and you're wondering where it all went wrong.

➳ notes: this may or may not have been based on experience and i may or may not have gone through war flashbacks while writing this but it's a-okay!

➳ cross-posted on ao3

You got up from bed 28 hours ago. Nagi broke up with you 5 hours afterward.

Now that the clock strikes 1 in the afternoon, you can't tell whether or not the substance you're drinking out of your personalized coffee mug—which, by the way, was given to you by Nagi on your sixth monthsary—is water, coffee, or Red Bull. You have been officially up for 28 hours with nothing but this mystery substance to fuel your brain, but even not-water, not-coffee, or not-Red Bull can take your mind off the sinking anxiety that floods your system.

Thus comes the sudden urge to walk to the nearest convenience store and buy the first alcoholic drink your eyes land on. Although best boy Yoichi Isagi is already on speaker as he talks you out of doing so, in fear that your insomniac body will crash in the middle of the street with no guidance or a merciful civilian around to rush you to the hospital. He speaks in a hurried tone, almost panting, like he's on his way to your flat so that he can stop you before you ride the elevator four floors down to the building lobby, where the exit doors await your presence—but the sad truth is, he's in München, Germany, for work-related reasons, so all he can do to lend a hand is to stop whatever he's doing and focus on talking you out of doing silly things.

"I just need to sleep, Isagi," you tell him weakly, clutching your wool blanket closer to your chest as you lay on your couch in a fetal position. From the looks of your ongoing FaceTime call, Isagi is in his apartment, well-groomed and dressed in simple house clothes, and fresh out of the shower after a morning gym session. He has an AirPod in his left ear, while the other is probably somewhere in his apartment, wedged between tight spaces or buried under heaps of laundry. You wiggle your toes as the air conditioning restarts, feeling the cool air blow on your feet. "A Strong Zero will do it. They also have a new flavor, ha-ha."

"No, it won't. Sit tight and wait until Chigiri comes," he advises sternly. He called your mutual friend Hyoma Chigiri ten minutes ago upon FaceTiming you and learning about the terrible news that he never would have seen coming. Isagi was terrified by the sight of your bloodshot eyes, deepened eye bags, and unruly hair that spread on your couch pillow. When you began to cry, he knew that calling for backup was the best route. "I just… don't understand. Why did you break up?"

"He broke up with me," you correct. He mumbles a passive apology. "I don't understand it either. I mean, I kinda do, but my brain isn't making any sense of it, or maybe it just doesn't want to."

"Nagi is unreadable. I get it."

You groan.

"You see, it's not even that."

You turn on your side and lay flat on your back. You situate the phone on your chest, so that Isagi has a rather unpleasant view of your chin. He mimics your actions by flopping on his bed and lying on his back, inclining his phone perpendicular to his torso.

"Most people can't read him, but I can. I can tell if he's bothered or hungry, if he's annoyed or upset. We were doing okay until yesterday."

"Maybe there's a part of him that you can't read after all," Isagi suggests, then he realizes his indifferent tone. "Crud. Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine," you mumble with a frown. "I might as well get used to reality."

You fear that Isagi might be right. While you were always confident that Nagi was more loose around you (save for his childhood friend Reo), there could have been some part of himself that he kept hidden.

In that case, you wonder why. As far as you can remember, Nagi never had any trouble voicing out his feelings to you.

"What did he even say?" asks Isagi.

"He said some things," you answer.

"I'm going to assume that he didn't elaborate." He sighs, disappointed in the turn of events. "How did it sound to you?"

You think about it deeply. Nagi, a man of a few words, in fact, did not elaborate much on his breakup speech, but from the many years you knew him, you caught on to his reasoning. The way it happened and how it turned into a breakup just didn't make sense.

"Let's break up," he said out of nowhere as you were getting yourself a glass of lemon tea. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you put down the glass on the counter. "Sorry. It's random."

"Are you serious?" you asked quietly. When you turned around, Nagi was already looking at you.

He nodded.

"I think," you begin, "I think he fell out of love."

Isagi stares at the virtual image of you on his screen, jaw slightly ajar as he finds the right words to say. You beat him to it, though.

"He didn't say much, but he could have been embarrassed to admit it because all this time, I've-I've been..."

"You've been loving him for God knows how long," Isagi finishes.

Tears well up in your eyes, and you turn to your side again. Your whole body hurts as you're hit with a new wave of emotions. Falling out of love? It happens to couples all the time, for many reasons. Usually one gets fed up by the other, or one ends up not being good enough for the relationship to move forward in the long run. Your heart sinks.

Suddenly, you're finding certain moments in your relationship with Nagi that can support this thought, and they don't stop coming even when Chigiri is knocking repeatedly on your apartment door.

Isagi is the one who alerts you of your friend's presence, but you're bundled up under the blanket as the shitty feeling resides in you. You need alcohol. Badly.

Chigiri manages to break into your apartment using a key that you have hidden on the upper ledge of your door. When he finds you rotting on the couch, he embraces you in a warm hug and uses a couple of back pats to snap you out of your senses, but they don't work.

Isagi has to go to work, so he hangs up the call after bidding you goodbye and giving an empathetic look that you don't notice. Chigiri sits with you in silence until you're ready to speak.

"Chigiri," you croak.

"Hm?" he hums.

"Did Nagi ever think I was horrible?"

He sighs.

"Of course not."

You snuggle your head into your hands.

"Then why are we in this situation right now?"

"As much as I want to help, you're the only one who can truly answer that," he explains.

"Could it be because I don't play the games he plays?" you mutter. Chigiri is quiet. "Or maybe because I wasn't too big on football when we met?"

He shakes his head.

"That's stupid. Nagi didn't even get into football until high school."

"But when we started out, I learned that we were much more different than I thought we were, so I was always catching up with him and his friends," you admit. "I didn't know how to play his games, so I tried to get into them just so we could spend time together even though I sucked and he looked happier playing with Reo and his girl. I couldn't understand football language until a few months of dating, either. No offense, Chigiri, but I couldn't understand any of your lingo and I would just sit and stand in your celebrations while nodding my head just to fit in!"

"You can't doubt your relationship because you don't game the way he does," Chigiri reasons, "and Nagi never expected you to know football like that."

"But wouldn't those be reasons to get tired of someone?" you ask. "What if... just what if he thought that it would have been nicer if he had someone who had the same interests as him?"

Chigiri sighs.

"Look. You've been awake for more than a day, so your brain isn't braining correctly. How about you get some sleep and we can talk about this again when you wake up?"

"But—"

"No buts!"

Standing up from the couch, Chigiri tugs the wool blanket off your body to force you up on your feet. Once successful, he drags you to your bedroom, where your pillows and comforter are sprawled on the mattress, just the way you left them a day ago. He forces you under the comforter, which you obey pretty quickly.

He fetches your water bottle from the kitchen and cranks up the room temperature. He doesn't leave until he's sure that you're asleep, but your mind stays running long enough for Chigiri to doze off first in your mini sofa bed by the door.

With the background sound of Chigiri's faint snores, you're left with even more time to think about what went wrong with your relationship with Nagi and how you can possibly move on. Every aspect of your life for the past few years that you've been together has had Nagi involved in it in some way. With the presence of the man you're no longer with appearing in every recent memory you have, how is letting go anywhere achievable?

By the looks of it (and your personal gut feeling), perhaps Nagi did get tired. Although the extent of this certainty falls a little below 50% because he didn't explain his reasons as well as you wanted him to.

Using the strength you have left in your drained body, you grab your phone from the nightstand and open your messages. You type a message that comes to mind as soon as you see his contact.

You hey, can we talk? Read 1:43 PM

Nagi reads the message fairly quickly. You're nervous upon realization. A few minutes pass, and the read receipt stays as it is until a small bubble pops up.

Nagi okay can we talk later?

The same nonchalant Nagi that you love is the same person who just replied.

You sure. as long as we get to talk, please

Nagi mhm of course

Whatever is about to happen, will happen. If he can explain as well as you want him to, then you're happy to accept it and move on. If he's sure of losing you, then maybe you should, too.

[florencebirdsong]

The Only Gift I Need Is (The Smell Of) You

Kate Bishop x Reader

summary: what better present to give to your horny girlfriend then fulfilling a kink of hers

or, kate loves the smell of your cunt

tags: scent kink, masturbation, fingering, praise kink, light degradation, top reader, bottom Kate

authors note: short kate bishop fic for kate bishop season :) 🎄❄️

reader is wearing Kate’s boxers

ao3 | masterlist

“Kate!” you call out from the comfortable spot against the headboard.

“Yeah?” she walks in curiously.

“It’s time for your present,” you say.

She looks around the bed eagerly but can’t find a wrapped gift. Until her eyes land on your hips and she realises you’re wearing a pair of her purple boxers.

“Is it a sex thing?” she asks eagerly as she climbs onto the bed.

“It is a sex thing,” you don’t try to hide your amusement. You stop her from climbing on top of you. “No. Just watch.”

“Okay,” Kate says, curiosity, nervousness and excitement all wrapped up into one.

She settles between your ankles and her eyes fall immediately to your clothed cunt. Instead of teasing her like you normally do, you trace a hand down your chest. Her eyes immediately latch onto the movement and she raises slightly on her knees. You make a warning noise and pull your hand away. She immediately settles down again.

“Watch,” you remind her.

She nods hurriedly. You trail your hand over the waistband of your stolen boxers and then down. The cool, silky fabric causes no friction as you rub your clit over it. The way Kate watches you has you heating up faster than you usually do and you have to stifle a whimper. You start with gentle circles and Kate can’t help leaning a little closer. You press more firmly when you’d normally move on to a different tease and Kate turns wide eyes on you when she realises what you’re planning. She quickly looks back down when you spread your fingers out to press the fabric tightly down to show off your hard clit, a wet patch starting to form below it.

“Watch,” you warn as her hand travels down her own waistband.

She whimpers but doesn’t risk disobeying, wrapping her hands tightly around her thighs instead. You watch the way her long fingers curl around her own flesh and turn white. You picture them deep inside of you. A whimper finally escapes you and Kate jerks like she just stopped herself from moving.

“Good girl,” you gasp and she whines. The desperate sound goes right to your clit. “Fuck, baby. You’re such a good girl. You’re gonna make me come. Gonna watch me come like a good girl-”

Pleasure crashes over you and your words turn into moans. Lightning flows through you as you watch Kate barely control herself as she watches you soak your underwear.

You pull your hand away from your sensitive clit and she licks her lips. Her hands finally touch you as she grabs your legs, planning to pull you down the bed towards her.

“Wait,” you say and she whines, “you’re going to miss the rest of your present.”

You don’t give her time to ask. You pull off the boxers and throw them at her face. She gives you an incredulous, hopeful look and you nod. She buries her nose in them and whimpers, a hand diving into her shorts. The rough, jerky movement of her wrist tells you she’s already fucking herself.

“You really are a perv,” you say just to watch the way she curls. You know the exact way she would tighten around you if you were the one inside of her. “You’ve definitely done this before.”

“I haven’t,” she gasps.

“No?” you watch the way she grinds down on her own fingers, how her pace never wavers and the cloth never falls from her nose. “You’re huffing it like you have.” You can practically see the way the shame curls around her, and how it makes her drip. “I bet you’ve been through my dirty laundry.”

Her head jerks up and she looks up at you with wide eyes. Which tells you she has been. Her fingers have yet to stop so you latch onto it. “Yeah? You’ve gone through my dirty laundry?” She nods hesitantly and your heart races. “You must have been so desperate to go scrounging around in there. Did you even find anything with my cum on it?”

She nods pathetically, still buried in your arousal-soaked boxers. You thread your fingers through her hair and pull her head back. You grip her wrist and pull the boxers away from her face.

“Maybe you don’t deserve this. If you’ve already been stealing it.”

“No, no, no. Please?” she pulls her puppy-eyes and you bite your lip to stop yourself from giving in immediately. 

Or biting her. 

“How close are you?” you breathe.

“Close,” she whimpers, her eyes shining in the way they always do when she’s desperate.

Releasing her hair, you twist her around and shove her onto her back. You pull her hand out of her pants and replace it with your own. She’s soaked and you relish the way her heat wraps around your fingers.

She stares up at you with wide eyes, mouth open in a silent moan.

“You have until you come,” you tell her.

Confusion turns into shock turns into desperation. It’s almost comical how quickly she shoves the boxers back to her nose. You hate them a little, for hiding so much of her face, but you can still see her eyes. And the way she arches as you curl your fingers. She comes pathetically fast and loud, like she’s on her third orgasm and not her first. You make gentle circles around her clit to help her through it. You enjoy the way her muscles jump under her skin. 

When she finally relaxes back onto the bed, you rip the boxers out of her hand and throw them across the room. She gapes at you and you can’t help smiling.

“I said until you came,” you reminded her.

She pouts but you avoid its power by laying on top of her and snuggling into her shoulder.

“Remind me to come in my underwear more often,” you say.

You definitely want to see her like that again.

“I will,” she says and surprises a snort out of you.

“I’ll have to put a lock on the laundry basket. Can’t have you stealing treats when you’ve been bad.”

“Okay,” she says smugly.

“And steal your lock picks.”

You can feel her pouting again and muffle a laugh in her neck. 

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Collars Of Duty 4

MalinoisHybrid!Simon x reader

- Chapter 3 - (Chapter 5)

Simon's gone and you're left to deal with his sudden absence. But maybe it's not all over yet.

~ 8,3k Words

Content (might contain spoilers): reader being mean to themselves in their thoughts, hybrid AU, mention of past injury, hints at past attack, mentions of therapy, biting, blood

A.N: I messed with the COD timeline here. I know that some of the things I mention don't happen during this time and don't fit with the canon but it's my AU so shush. Curious if you lot catch the cameo. Have fun. Also not my best chapter but I poured a lot of heart, time and effort into it.

It’s been almost a week since Simon’s transport back to England. A week that you’ve spent at home again. The day you arrived at work to find Simon gone you went back to medical leave. Now as you sit on your couch and look out through your living room window you wonder if that was the best decision.

Simon’s sudden absence left you hollower than you anticipated. You spent barely a week by his side, most of which he was unconscious. So how come you care so damn much already?

You go through your usual routine. Making food, going outside, meeting friends, attending therapy, working on your mind and body. You do everything you did the past few weeks that helped you get back to your feet after Phillip but the worry for Simon won’t fade. It’s always there in the back of your head, a nagging feeling that leaves you thinking about him way more than you probably should.

Is he okay? Are they taking good care of him? Do they take it slow and take his trauma and needs into consideration? Does he have a handler that knows how to help him? How are his wounds?

You feel silly for caring so much about the large hybrid but another pitiful part of you whispers that it might prove that you’re a good person. Caring so much about someone you barely know surely proves that you have a good heart.

Then there’s another part that admonishes you for thinking that. No truly good person would think about whether their actions or thoughts make them a good person and you grow ashamed again. You try to shove all those thoughts somewhere in a corner of your mind where you don’t have to hear them constantly. The back and forth driving you insane without coming up with any conclusive answer.

You worry about him. That’s how it is. You care There is nothing you can do to change that except try not to think about him so much. But honestly you don’t want to stop thinking about him. Something about Simon struck your heart and you feel the need to figure out what.

You sigh as you nurse your mug with your favourite hot beverage in it, taking another slow sip savoring the taste. Has Simon ever had a drink like this? You sigh. Here you go again, thinking about the malinois hybrid without pause.

You let your head fall back against the backrest of the couch, staring at the ceiling. When did your home start feeling more like a self inflicted prison? There’s a restlessness growing in you. It’s starting deep in your stomach and spreads its way through your limbs making you bounce your knee until you almost spill your drink jerking your head back up to safe it at the last second.

Why did you go back to medical leave? You had been more than willing to return for Simon’s case. But as soon as he left you went back home like a snail hiding in it’s shell. You rest your elbows on your knees and let your head hang forward the muscles of your neck stretching uncomfortably.

You’re a damn coward. Resting at home. It doesn’t feel like healing anymore it feels like you’re running away. Running from the center and all the hybrids it houses. You hate it, hate Phillip for ruining all dog hybrids with just one attack. Why does he have the power to make you afraid of all of them. It’s not fair.

Do the others think you’re a coward as well? Hiding at home again after you came back for a week. What is management thinking? That you could return for an emergency but not for the relative calmness of every day? What will happen if you don’t come back quick enough for them? Will you lose your job? Would they actually fire you over something like this?

Just like that sitting at home feels like wasted time. Every minute spent on your couch is a minute you could be working and trying to get over your fear. And suddenly your certain that you have to return to work if you want to make further progress.

Additionally to your sudden urgency to just do something instead of sitting at home and licking your wounds the thought of everyone secretly judging your return to absence makes you feel itchy. But it’s your own judgment makes you the most uncomfortable. You can’t escape your own thoughts that remind you how cowardly you’re behaving. How you’re wasting away thinking about a hybrid who never even was your charge.

Thinking about a hybrid who you foolishly put a lot of hope into.

It makes no logical sense that you feel like Simon was your way back to working with hybrids. You had been sure that working with a problem hybrid would be the worst thing that could happen to you. You had been sure it would make you feel worse and undo everything you’ve achieved in therapy so far.

Now it feels like anyone other than the problem hybrid will hinder your recovery.

For a moment you feel selfish for wanting to gain something out of helping a hybrid. How can you think like that? Even if working with one stops your progress it would be worth it if you could help them. It’s not their job to help you. You’re supposed to help them, that’s what you’re being paid for, dammit. Helping them without gaining anything should be all you want.

Still it would be the best case scenario if working with one would also allow you to slowly get used to them again. It would be nice if the hybrid could help you too. And you decide that you can allow yourself that little bit of selfishness.

But even if that best case scenario were to happen. Before you can get anyone elses help you’ll have to want to help yourself.

The days of peacefully sitting on your couch letting the world outside continue to turn while you exist in your own little reality that consists of your home and the doctors office are over. You’ve had enough time off. It’s time to return to work. If you don’t your own thoughts that continue to run in circles will drive you insane.

No matter how often you dissect what happened with Phillip it won’t change what happened and maybe it’s time to accept that.

It’s probably best if you go back to the center today, before you lose your drive. And what better way to return than just going for lunch. Nice and casual. Nothing scary. At least that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself of as your palms immediately begin getting sweaty.

It’s tiring always being scared and even if it scares you more to go back, at least you’re doing something. You can’t take another second of sitting at home waiting to feel better while doing nothing.

A sudden burst of energy has you rushing all over your home while you get ready and sprint out of your front door before your nerves catch up to you.

You try your hardest not to second guess yourself as your unsteady hands hold the access card against the entrance of the compound. It opens with a beep and you rush through. When you stand in front of the main building you freeze. Your hands are shaking and you will yourself to breathe deeply.

There will be a lot of hybrids at the cafeteria, and suddenly your feet wont take another step. Flashes of teeth, dripping with vicious saliva, snapping and tearing at you appear in your mind. You’re certain that there’s an aggressive hybrid growling behind you but when you turn there’s no one there. Wincing you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to make you feel some semblance of safety.

You’ve already managed to come here and turning around to go back home feels like defeat. You can already taste it’s bitter tang just from thinking about not going through with your plan. For a moment you chew on your lower lip, indecisive then you look up at the building. Liz should be working right now. Maybe she’s willing to have her break with you.

Taking two steps at once, you rush up the stairs hoping you don’t meet anyone, especially no hybrid before you reach Liz’ office. Your heart pumps hectically while you strain your ears to make sure you’ll hear approaching steps over your harsh breathing. You’re lucky, getting there without running into anyone and you quickly slip inside without knocking.

Your heart swells at the way Liz positively beams at your appearance. It should not surprise you as much as it does when she immediately takes her break so she can go to the cafeteria with you. The way she links her arm with yours is so easy and natural that it makes you gulp suppressing the strong urge to hide behind her.

You grow more and more tense the closer you get to the cafeteria. Liz chattering fading to the background even if it’s her attempt to distract you. There are two hybrids and their handlers joining your direction. Luckily they’re concentrated on their handlers and the promise of food after training. The two of them don’t even give you any attention besides a quick glance.

When you realize that they won’t attack, you relax minutely. Everything is okay, you’re okay. The hybrids at the center are all friendly. Usually.

Aggressive Hybrids are very rare and they’re usually kept on leash. There’s various reasons why a handler might decide to keep their charge on a leash and none of the handlers here would let an aggressive hybrid roam free.

You almost manage to gain some control over your fear until you hear a sudden bark behind you. It’s loud and startling and you can feel your heart jump painfully in your chest.

You rip your arm away from Liz, whipping around. Fear clogs your throat and you can feel your eyes watering in sheer panic.

A golden retriever hybrid is running at you his steps slightly uneven. Where his left leg should be is a prosthetic attached but it does nothing to slow him down. His handler is further down the hallway and from the leash that loosely hangs from the hybrids collar it’s evident that he ripped himself free from his handlers hold.

His ears are perked up and flop with every step, his face lit up with obvious joy but it doesn’t help the terror that floods through you at the sight of him running at you. A very faint voice reminds you that you know this hybrid and he wouldn’t hurt you, but that voice is easily silence by the dread that overpowers everything.

He stretches his arms out to the side and Liz takes a step forward.

Before he reaches you, or Liz can step into his way you thrust out your hand out in front of yourself in sheer desperation.

“STOP!”

Alex skids to a halt like he just ran against a wall, having to shift his weight so he doesn’t fall. The prosthetic makes an awful screeching noise as it scrapes over the floor. His ears droop and his tail halts mid wag, uncertain what just happened. You’d feel bad at the obvious hurt in his expression if you weren’t so desperately harnessing your fear to shove it back into the dark corner it crawled from.

Panic squeezes your lungs and denies you access to your own breaths. You think you hear Liz tell Alex’ handler to wait when he goes to grab Alex’ leash but you concentrate on regulating your wheezing breaths, your hand still outstretched to halt Alex.

The golden hybrid looks at you and takes a few small steps on the spot he’s glued to. His nostrils flare and he cocks his head at you.

“You’re afraid of me?” He half asks half states and the devastation in his voice rips your heart right in two. A whine makes its way from his chest and you shake your head. You panic retreating at the need to reassure and calm the hybrid. He did nothing wrong and here you are, hurting him by panicking.

“No! I’m not scared of you.” You say even if you’re not sure whether that’s true. But you need to say something, anything to stop the hurt in his eyes. He cocks his head at you in question.

“Just got spooked from the way your ran at me.”

He visibly perks back up at that, his tail slowly starting to wag again even if it’s decidedly less enthusiastic than before. Then it slowly gains momentum, getting quicker and stronger until his entire body wriggles with his joy and the sight steals a small smile from you.

“I only wanted to hug you. I haven’t seen you in forever. I promise I won’t rush. May I hug you?” He asks with so much hope in his voice that you can’t say no.

Briefly you scan his body language, finding nothing but excitement and restraint so you nod even if the way your blood rushes through you is almost painful.

Alex stays true to his word, slowly steps forward, opening his arms for you and waits until you mirror the gesture. Then he wraps his bulky frame around you, squeezing you to his chest. Immediately he pushes his face against you and takes a deep breath, smelling you. His mustache tickles you and you squirm giggling inadvertently.

He rumbles deep in his chest, huffs in displeasure at your movements which only makes you giggle and squirm more. Your fear slowly retracts its claws from your chest, hissing in displeasure at your entire being remembering Alex as safe.

You can feel him relax right along with you. Until all that is left is warmth and contentment. The close contact to him after weeks of staying away as far as possible from any and all hybrids fills your chest with warmth choking you up slightly. After you allow yourself to bask in his hug for as long as you deem acceptable and after you swallow your tears back down, you step back and shake your head at him fondly.

“You know that this is exactly why you’re still on leash. Always so easily distracted rushing off to investigate whatever scent you caught. Although I’m honored I’m the distraction this time.”

He folds his ears back and the chuckle of his handler reminds you of his and Liz presence. The man, Chad, steps forward and gently cuffs the back of Alex head. The hybrid playfully snaps in the direction of his fingers. You nearly flinch until you remind yourself that this is Alex and he’s just playing.

“Lucky for him we’re not training right now and you’re a very special distraction. It’s good to see you again.”

You remember the day you left Alex as his charge, a mixture of pride and pain in your chest. You’d worked months with Alex after he lost his leg in an explosion during a mission. You’d helped him regain his agility and confidence and it was only normal that you developed a deep bond with the hybrid.

It was always a happy occasion when a hybrid got to go back to having a work handler and you shake Chads outstretched hand with a warm smile. As you make your way into the cafeteria you try to concentrate on Alex and his handler, who’s taken his leash in hand again.

“We get to go back to the real work next week.” Alex tells you puffing his chest and pride blooms in your own chest. You know how much his work means to him and it will be great to see him leave the center after a year and a half of working hard to get back in shape. Still the thought stings a little.

You’ll miss him. He’s been one of your favorite charges and even after you left him in Chad’s capable hands - so they could work and train to become a team while Alex fully regained his abilities - it was nice to meet him in the hallways and outside on the training grounds.

You try to concentrate on the joy instead. He’ll get to go back to doing what he loves and you wonder when you’ll be able to do the same. With the way you currently need to check every hybrid around you for any sign of aggression you don’t see any possibility of you taking on a new charge soon.

With Simon it had been easy. He’d been an emergency which left not enough time to think, to doubt, to get lost in your fear. Now that he’s gone you have too much time to cook up all the worst case scenarios in your head again.

While you try to have lunch without always looking around like a spooked rabbit you get to watch Chad and Alex interact and their easy camaraderie and banter makes you jealous. It makes you overly aware of the fact that you’re unable to interact with a hybrid like that at the moment.

But you love this job. You love working with them and helping them and developing all these bonds. Harshly you stab your fork into the food. Even if it takes forever, you will be able to do it again.

As if to mock you the scar on your shoulder throbs at the aggressive movement and you subconsciously reach up, pressing against it. Alex turns his head towards you from his place besides you. You give him a small tight lipped smile.

He says nothing, but under the table he moves his leg until his thigh touches you and you stare down at the contact.

The next day you join Alex and Chad while training at their insistence the day before. They’re all too eager to show off their hard work to you and it’s almost mesmerizing the way they clear the obstacle course together.

The centers agility course is a jungle of platforms that are raised over the ground with obstacles in between. The platforms vary from the size of your hand to a square meter and some are slanted to test the balance.

They can be roughly divided into two heights one being a few centimeters above the ground while the second level is mostly at two meters with platforms of varying heights in between. There is no designated path through the course which allows a handler to challenge a hybrid with new angles at already well known obstacles.

The slight tugs Chad gives on the leash help Alex to find the right footing while he concentrates on sniffing out the hidden object. You.

You’re crouched behind an obstacle that’s on the second level, keeping out of sight. You peek at the pair of them moving through the course stopping at a point where you doubled back to confuse Alex.

The single minded focus of the hybrid is admirable but also dangerous out in the field. In the field concentrating on nothing besides what he’s supposed to sniff out means running into the line of fire, stepping onto a contact mine or whatever other horrible things wait for them in the field. That is why he’s connected to Chad with the leash.

You almost shout a warning, your heart leaping into your throat, when Alex lifts his head to track your scent not watching the small platforms under his feet. You can already see his foot miss the next platform but Chad gives a gentle tug and Alex rights his direction without looking down.

His foot finds the platform and you exhale heavily with relief. You can only continue watching in awe. You’d known that Chad was a good handler. While working with Philip you had often seen the two of them train but you always had your own hybrid to concentrate on so you never got to appreciate the incredible team these two make.

Alex finds you easily while Chad watches over him, clearing his path, making sure he doesn’t get hurt while he concentrates on his work and when Alex finds you in record time, you can’t help but clap and holler in excitement.

Chad ruffles Alex hair and the golden retriever hybrid beams with pride. His tail wags a mile a minute and when you’re all back down on the ground he does a few silly circles on the spot giving an excited bark which makes Chad laugh.

A deep feeling of peace settles over you. This is what it’s supposed to be like. A soft smile sneaks onto your lips. Watching Chad and Alex is weirdly healing, reminding you of what a healthy hybrid handler relationship looks like. You have been able to build one with every charge you’ve had besides Phillip. And with him it wasn’t because you didn’t try.

For the first time fear isn’t the first emotion bubbling up when you think about Phillip. This time it’s sadness. In his chase for his independence he sold his soul to someone else. But you don’t think that the proud hybrid realized that. He probably didn’t realize that the gesture of attacking you was empty considering the reasons for it. It proved jack shit. But hey at least he got what he wanted in the end.

Even that thought doesn’t chase the sadness away. So you concentrate back on Chad and Alex and you realize you’re a little less frustrated with yourself when you go to bed that evening. You got to work with a hybrid again and it had went well. Things will get better after all.

After the day you spent with Alex you come back to work for good. You do not have your own charge at the moment but you try to be useful in every way you can. Instead of working with a hybrid you start helping with the equipment, running errands and giving the other handlers advice that you feel not qualified to give considering how long you’ve been absent and the reason for your absence.

The way you try to avoid running into hybrids makes you feel ashamed of yourself once more but you don’t have it in you to just casually cross paths with them. It’s so stupid, the way one hybrid ruined every hybrid for you. You’re determined to change that, to not see a threat in every hybrid but maybe… maybe not today.

You duck around the corner as you spot a hybrid walking down the hallway with her handler and press yourself against the wall counting down from ten to calm yourself. It’s frustrating as hell that interacting with Alex didn’t magically heal you.

Why could one hybrid not heal the wounds of one other hybrid? Your pulse still jumps at every hybrid you see. You still try to hide instead of normally passing them. And you grow frustrated with yourself. Healing sucks. It’s hard to understand why books and movies always seem to picture it as this magical beautiful journey when most of the time it feels like running in circles and standing in your own way.

How would things be if Simon was still here? Would you walk the hallways unafraid with his large form looming next to you? Maybe if he’d become your charge you would feel better already.

You shake your head. Thinking about that doesn’t help you, you try to remind yourself. Simon’s in England and there isn’t anything you can do.

You peek around the corner, seeing that the hybrid is gone you continue on your way, glad that the tiles help you hear when someone’s approaching. You look at the stack of papers in your arms and almost scoff at yourself. Running errands instead of doing what you actually get paid for.

But with Simon gone you don’t know how you’re supposed to jump into the deep end and take the position as a handler again.

You should have known. You should have known it would come back to bite you in the ass that you didn’t sign the handler agreement. Maybe with that you could have been transferred with Simon and stayed by his side for the time it will take for him to be able to go back to active duty.

Apparently the Doc had asked for the papers that prove that Simon is your charge so she could have you called to the center before he left. When she called the office they had to tell her that no such papers were signed.

You’re lucky that the Doc hasn’t told anyone that you lied to gain access to his medical report. At least you don’t think she has or someone would have approached you about it by now. It still might happen and you’re unsure whether you should talk to her about it before you possibly get a lawsuit.

Thinking about that does nothing to calm your racing heart and you almost flee inside Liz’ office when it comes into view as if her presence will shield you from your own thoughts and feelings as well.

You drop the stack of papers on her desk and she sighs, pushing up her glasses and meets you eyes.

“I should probably thank you but honestly, how dare you bring this to me instead of accidentally spilling coffee all over them.”

Hearing Liz who enjoys the office work say something like that startles a laugh out of you and she grins.

“One of those days?” You ask and she nods, stretches her arms over her head and groans when her back audibly pops.

She takes her smoothie and slurps it through her straw. “You know I looked into it for you. But there is no way for us to obtain any information on Simon’s well being. I’m sorry.”

You plop down into the empty chair before her desk and crane your neck until you’re staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. I already expected that. If only I had signed those damned papers.”

You catch Liz shrug out of your peripheral vision. “Well with the English laws being the way they are it’s not certain that would have done anything either.”

Lazily you let your head roll forward. “Hm?”

“Ah, right. You only do the hands on work. The hybrid-handler laws in England demand the hybrid to sign an agreement too for the handler-hybrid relationship to have legal effect. So your signature alone would probably not give you any information on him anyway.”

“Oh.” You think about it. You know the English laws are different but you never looked into it since they don’t concern you, at least they never did until now. Either way you will never know what’s become of Simon and it frustrates you.

“Well, it is what it is.” You say resigned and put your hands on your knees to push yourself up. If only you could mean that. “Back to running errands I go.”

Before you can leave the room Liz’ voice stops you. “You have to take on a charge again at some point.”

You half turn to her smiling, even though you don’t feel like smiling at all. “Exactly. ‘At some point.’ That point is not now. It’s barely been a few days of me being back.”

She shakes her head at you and you’d be embarrassed or angry at her disappointed expression but you know it’s because she cares. “Why are you so damn hesitant? You were fully ready to take Simon as charge?”

You purse your lips in thought, turning to her fully. “With him it was easy. I didn’t have time to imagine all the things that could go wrong. Just ‘bam here’s this hybrid you have to take care of’. Now that he’s gone I have too much time to think about what it means to take on a new charge.”

Liz clicks her tongue. “Maybe I’ll just drop a hybrid at your doorstep so you don’t have time to think.”

You gasp in mock offense. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” She says dryly and you’re not sure if she’s still joking. So you laugh it off while fleeing her office before she decides to make any more valid points.

That better have been a joke or you’d strangle her. And then thank her because thinking about it - dropping a hybrid at your doorstep might actually work. Your close the door, turn to walk back down the hallway and almost walk into Meg from HR.

“Oh good. I was looking for you.”

You gulp. Oh no. Did the Doc rat you out after all? Would they fire you? Shit. You rub your palms against your pants. Did you do anything wrong? What if she knows you lied to get the Doc to talk about Simon? Would they file a lawsuit because of something like that?

“Follow me.” She says curtly and you nod, too startled and scared to get a simple yes out. Walking behind her through the hallway makes you feel like you’re walking to your own execution and you thank whoever is listening that you don’t run into any hybrids. You’re not sure your heart could handle any more anxiety.

The clicking of her door closing while she indicates for you to sit down at her desk sounds like a threat and when you sit you rub your sweaty palms against your thighs.

She sits down on her side of the desk and clicks something on her computer then she looks at you seriously and you feel like you’ll be in serious trouble in a few second. Hopefully you won’t cry, that would be embarrassing.

She sighs. “Do you remember the aggressive hybrid you were called in for from your leave?”

You nod and this time you manage to weakly say: “Yes.” Oh no. Oh no no no no. Pleas no.

She taps a pen against her chin and studies you. “You know we really hoped you could take another charge soon so management isn’t the happiest about it but we were promised a substitute and compensation so we decided to leave it up to you.”

Is she doing this on purpose? Dragging it out? What substitute? What the hell is going on?

“We got a request for you from the center in England he is currently at. They want you to work there with him for however long it takes to get him back on his feet. You’re one of our best even if you’re currently not exactly fitting your job description. I heard you got along well with him.” Something in her gaze softens at her last statement and you release your held breath a heavy weight dropping off your shoulders.

She doesn’t know about the papers. It feels like your heart can finally get a break. But then everything she said hits you and you start nervously bouncing your leg. They requested you? You’re sure they have more than enough handlers at the center he’s currently at. Surely they have competent personnel?

“Why… did they request me?” You carefully ask, not sure you’re allowed to ask any questions. Which is absurd if you think about it because of course you’re allowed to ask questions if she specifically called you to her office to give you a choice.

She purses her lips and twirls the pen in her fingers. “Apparently he’s giving them trouble. They don’t know what to do and found out he was more comfortable with you. Usually they would just give a problematic hybrid like him a medical discharge from his duties but apparently he’s a big enough asset for them to reach out to us.”

You nod trying to understand. What happened? Things hadn’t looked that bad. What had happened that Simon is once again deemed a problematic? Are you willing to go to England for an unknown amount of time because they ask you to? It might be months until he’s rehabilitated.

Your thoughts return to the few moments you had with him. You remember him in the bath, the way he’d let you dry his hair. The way you felt like you might overcome your fear with him. Maybe you don’t have to try with another hybrid. Maybe Simon is meant to be your charge so you can both help each other. This might be what you’ve been waiting for without knowing.

You’re a bit unsettled by how quick you’ve come to your decision. You should probably think this through more but you’d sign the handler papers in a heartbeat. That reminds you…

“What about him? Don’t the laws in England demand that he agrees with me being his handler?”

She nods, rifles through a stack of paper on her table and finally finds what she’s looking for. She folds the stapled stack of papers open on the last page and slides it over her desk towards you. At the bottom two lines for signatures sit.

“He already signed signed.”

You stare at the line where his name sits in neat block writing. You can’t help yourself but run your finger over it. Your heart thumps hectically in your chest. He already agreed to you being his handler. All you have to do is sign as well. You try to come up with all the logical questions and things that should make you hesitate.

“What about housing and stuff?” You hate how you say ‘stuff’ like you don’t know what you’re talking about. Your thoughts are rushing. You have a hard time getting a hold of them. Taking care of contracts and the whole organizational stuff was never your strong suit. Your strong suit is working with hybrids, at least you thought so until Phillip. But the fact that Simon apparently wants you as his handler makes the smallest bit of confidence grow.

They want you in England because whatever happened makes them think you can help him. Whatever he said makes them think you’re who they have to turn to. You can do this. This is also what the hybrid wants. What will happen to Simon if you refuse?

Meg rips you from your thoughts. “They board and lodge their staff if they chose to live on site.”

You nod and then hold your hand out for the pen.

“Are you sure?” Meg asks and hesitantly gives in to you. You scribble your signature on the line next to Simon’s.

“Yes.” You say. Actually you aren’t sure at all. It’s probably stupid to sign so quickly when you haven’t asked a lot of important questions but if you don’t sign now you’ll think about it and then fear will claw at your chest and prevent you from going for it. Maybe it’s stupid and reckless. But it feels right.

Meg shrugs and takes the paper with your signature back. “Alright. Simon Riley is officially your new charge. They want you over there as quickly as possible so you should take the earliest flight you can. We’ll prepare your papers and request your substitute.”

Liz is gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles are stark white. Your knee is bouncing again and she glances at you from the corner of her eyes every now and then. She insisted on driving you to the airport and you’re very thankful despite arguing at first that she doesn’t have to.

“What is it?” You ask and now both your legs are bouncing.

Her hands shift on the wheel before gripping hard again. “Are you sure about this?”

You sigh and put your face in your hands. “No.” You mumble. She has the audacity to laugh at that. You shoot her a look and then start laughing too. What the hell are you doing? You’re about to fly to a whole other continent for a hybrid you don’t even really know.

She shrugs but her hands relax. “We can still cancel it all. I’ll kidnap you, no one will ever know that you tucked your tail and ran.”

That makes you laugh harder and you shake your head resting it back against the headrest. “I feel insane for this but I couldn’t say no. Maybe I’ll end up regretting this but maybe… Maybe everything will work out? What if this is what I need? A problem hybrid in a whole other country who wants me as his handler.”

Liz purses her lips. “I don’t know. I’ve never known you to be so impulsive but if you feel like you have to do this I won’t stop you. But if I receive word that you want to come back and don’t want to do this after all, I’ll terminate the contract and personally come get your ass back to the US.”

You snort at that but something in you calms down. Despite her joking tone you know that she means every word. You look at her for a while and it hits you that you don’t know how long you’ll be in England. Who knows when you’ll be in the same room as her again.

“Thank you.” You say quietly and Liz just nods.

The rest of the ride is comfortably quiet.

At the airport she squeezes you tightly and helps you with your luggage. Before you know it you’re on the plane and taking off. Your whole body starts getting jittery with nerves. You breathe deeply remembering one of the exercises your therapist gave you. She offered to keep holding your sessions online and you’re incredibly thankful for it.

You manage to calm down during the flight and even sneak in a nap, waking up with a racing heart to the announcement that the plane is on approach. As soon as you touch ground and have permission to use your phone you text Liz to let her know that you landed safely.

Half an hour later you’re in a cab going for the rehabilitation center you’ll stay at for an unknown amount of time. You wipe your hands on your pants thankful that the cab driver doesn’t try to make conversation so you can look out the window at the darkness of the evening.

It’s weird to think about how much more of the day Liz has left while it’s already very late evening here.

The street lights illuminate parts of the road and you feel like you’re dying inside from all the uncertainty of what is to come. You wish the drive would never end so you can’t arrive at the center. Alternatively you’d be happy with a concise list of what exactly will happen and who exactly you’ll meet. You get neither an endless ride nor a list. Sooner than you’d like the cab stops and you’re left with your gigantic luggage on the sidewalk.

You sincerely hope no one watches the awkward waddle you do while dragging your heavy bag with you to the front gate. Your wishes go unnoticed because someone approaches you quickly and you straighten up your heart jumping into your throat.

When the person is finally close enough for you to make them out clearly your breath hitches and you can’t help but look at him with wide eyes. He’s a snake hybrid. You’ve never seen one before and even if you’re aware of how rude it is you can’t stop staring.

“Welcome! You’re the handler from America, right?” He greets you and you gape at him nodding. He has a split tongue. The street lamps illuminate him dimly and if you aren’t mistaken the faint outline of scales is visible at his temples and his jaw.

He waits a moment and then slightly squirms under your scrutiny. “Ah. Am I your first snake hybrid?”

That manages to shake you out of it and you nod mumbling an apology. He easily hoists up your baggage onto his shoulder and opens a door in the gate with a key card.

“Don’t worry. I get that reaction with most people. We’re all really happy that you’re here. Simon has been… difficult to say the least.” The snake hybrid goes on and you can’t help but wonder how he knows so much. Who is he? Is he the companion hybrid of one of the handlers here?

You’re staring again while you follow him and his shoulders tense. “Oh! I forgot to introduce myself. How silly. I’m Nathair but please call me Nate.”

You give him your name in return and he stops for a moment to extend his hand for you to shake before continuing his way towards a large building. Before you can get a good look at the way it’s structured Nate leads you through the entrance door and towards a reception desk.

Smoothly he slides behind it sorting some papers and putting them in a folder then he gets a key card and stands again. He extends the folder to you and you take it before Nathair rounds the desk again, takes up your luggage once more and makes his way down a hallway. You hurry to follow.

“Those are some papers we need signed, some information like a map and the rules of our center. I also included Simon’s file.”

Suddenly your interest is piqued. “Where is he?”

Nate turns down another hallway and you already know it will take a while before you’re comfortable with the layout of the center. Thank god for the map.

“He’s being kept in a safety room where he will stay until he is ready to join you.”

“Join me?” You have to jog a few steps to keep up with Nate’s quick pace and when he notices he slows down. Here in the light of the building you can get a good look at him.

He’s magnificent. Broad shoulders, copper coloured hair and a dusting of dark reddish brows freckles that get denser towards his temples and fade into a few scattered scales. His skin is pale and along his jaw fading down his neck you can make out some more scales.

His eyes are big and round and something about them is slightly off. You can’t say exactly what it is though. The hands which are holding up your luggage are strong but slender and on the back of them you can once again see reddish brown scales disappear under his sleeves.

“Yes. Join you. Hybrids and handlers share their rooms here but with Simon being the way he is we didn’t deem it safe enough to bring him to the general housing wing yet. “

Suddenly you feel stupid again. You really agreed too quickly without enough information. You didn’t even know about the rooming situation. You straighten your shoulders. It’s too late now and it’s not like you would decide differently if you were given the choice again.

“This one’s yours.” Nate finally stops in front of a door. Right on the door, engraved in a small plastic plate, is your name. You swallow nervously as Nate unlocks it and puts your baggage down inside against the wall next to the entrance.

You walk in and a small smile blooms on your face. It’s cosy. Not so small that it feels cramped but not big enough to make you feel lost in it either. The curtains are drawn over the windows and there is even a small kitchenette cramped into the corner next to one of the windows.

On the right side nestled into a corner is a decently sized desk and on the left opposite to it is the bed pushed against the wall.

You walk in looking through an open door on the right side at the end of the room. It’s the bathroom. At the far end of the tiled room you see another door. Once you’ve scanned every corner you turn back to ask Nate about the door and you catch him with his split tongue out. He blushes a brilliant red under his freckles and lifts his hand to rub the back of his head.

“Ah… sorry. I was just smelling the room.” He sheepishly admits and you cock your head at him in curiosity.

“I smell better with my mouth and tongue than I do with my nose and I wanted to get your scent.”

You laugh at the embarrassed expression on his face and he turns even redder which makes you shake your head and put your hands up. “No, no! I’m not laughing at you!”

You take a step in his direction. “Nate, I work with dog hybrids for a living. I’m used to being smelled.”

He seems taken aback by that then he grins. “Do you mind then?”

You shake your head and Nate takes a step closer his split tongue testing the air for a few moments before he steps back and nods. “Thank you. Not knowing how someone smells feels like I don’t fully know who they are. Like I never saw a their face.”

You nod. “If I say I understand that I’d be lying because I obviously do not experience these things like you do. But it makes sense, no need to be embarrassed.”

He seems happy with that and looks around the room. His eyes settle on another door in the middle of the right wall. He steps towards it.

“Through this you’ll get to Simon’s room. It’s exactly the same as yours just mirrored. His room also shares the bathroom with yours.”

Ah that’s the other door you noticed in the bathroom. Curiously you open it and look into Simon’s room. Just like Nate says it’s a perfectly mirrored version of yours. But it’s empty and suddenly you can’t stay a moment longer here without having seen Simon. You need to make sure he’s okay.

“Nate. Where is Simon? Can I see him?”

The snake hybrid once again scratches the back of his head. “It’s already late.”

“Please. I need to know he’s okay. I came all this way specifically for him.”

Nate looks at you for a long moment and whatever he sees in your expression makes him sigh and relent.

Your ribcage hurts from the violent beats of your heart as you follow Nate through the building. He leads you down so many turns that you’re sure you won’t find your way back on your own.

The fact that all the hallways look basically the same doesn’t help your orientation but all you think about is seeing Simon again. He’s probably mostly healed by now. Will he be excited to see you? After all he signed the agreement first.

Nate leads you down the corridor to a seeming dead end but when you get closer you see that there is actually a door at the end. You both stop before it and the snake hybrid gets his key card.

“Would you like me to go in first and make sure he’s calm?” He asks and you immediately shake your head.

“It will be fine.”

Nate presses his lips into a thin line but nods and unlocks the door. You wipe your palms on your pants the excitement of seeing him again almost overwhelming you. You’re here and he is here and everything will be fine.

The door opens and you step into the room. Simon’s on his feet at the other end and oh, he looks spectacular. You’ve been separated long enough that his health noticeably progressed during that time.

His ears perk forward and Nate slips into the room besides you, closing the door.

Seeing Simon standing on his own without any struggle fills you with relief and your eyes with tears. Physically he already looks so much better than you remember him and the joy of that realization almost makes you shake.

“It’s you.” He rumbles and you cannot restrain yourself anymore taking hasty steps in his direction. Giddy that he’s alive and on his feet and looks well. Everything will work out after all. You’ll take care of each other.

You realize your mistake too late, blinded by the happiness. Time seems to almost slow to a halt. For a moment Simon’s eyes widen, then his tail bristles and his ears press against his head, his lips peel back revealing his dangerous canines.

Your heart stops but you’re mere steps from him and before you can stop the malinois hybrid charges the last steps that separate you.

“No!” Nate shouts somewhere behind you but you barely hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Simon barrels into you, throwing you to the floor and your head cracks against the tiles making pain explode all over the back of it. Simon’s honey coloured eyes are narrowed in aggression and his growl rattles your bones. His big body presses you against the cold hard floor uncomfortably. Every bone aching from the fall.

His teeth flash and you barely have the time to throw up your arms, crossing them in front of you to shield your face and neck. His fangs sink into your forearm. The intensity of the pain almost makes you cry out and you grunt.

Your eyes widen as you look up at Simon’s expression, nose scrunched as he grinds his teeth deeper into your arm until you feel like he’ll break right through your bones. He’s growling like he wants to kill you. His broad shoulders block out the room behind him. All you can see is his vicious snarl and angry eyes.

For some reason it’s the trickle of blood running down to your elbow that catches your attention. How funny, you think, that your own blood can tickle you like this.

[randomcreator-09]

Small Heath's Songbird: Christmas Eve Special (Thomas ShelbyxOCY/N)

(GIF ain't mine > I forgor ack pls dm me if it's yours)

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS SCENE MADE ME WANNA EXPLODE XD

Part One - Part Two

>>>MINORS DNI<<<

✨Pure fluff, Lil Angst, No Grace, Smut >:D [pnv (wrap it before you tap it), slight choking, bottom!dom Tommy, switch!dom reader, overstimulation(m&f)] Happy Ending ^^ (cuz I've had enough bad endings irl TvT)✨

🐧Hoe Hoe Hoe all of us HAHAHAHAHAHHA XD. I hope ya'll getting laid this Christmas Eve cuz, I aint X"D. Anyways you do not need to read part one... this can be just a one-shot itself, but fair warning you might not understand who our OCY/N is so... yeah... go read part one XD Tried to make it as short as possible since it's just a special but seemingly failed :"D but ey... Merry Christmas ^^!!!🐧

Own character description but it's Y/N POV

3.2k words

REBLOG TO SPREAD ADDICTION and kudos are appreciated too thank you ^^

Enjoy reading ^^

Part One - Part Two

-----

It has been more than a week since your last encounter with the owner of Arrow House, Thomas. Your first kiss with him last December 15th was something that kept you giddy to work as soon as the morning sun rose and before Miss Florence could knock at your door to wake you up, your room was already empty.

You went with your usual routine of sweeping off dust on paintings and sculptures, careful not to break or tear anything. This wasn't the first house you became a personal maid for someone, you've basically worked as a royal made once before getting kicked out by the head maid for "Eloping" with her man (which you didn't. The man was just accusing you because you said no to all his advances, which ended up with you on the whore house with 'Missus'). Humming as you cleaned and twirled, Miss Florence saw you and turned away with a smile.

-----

However, as fast as you were giddy that day, it was also punched right out you when you were called to attend to one of Thomas's whores.

"Ah! Y/N?" She slutterly (is that even a word??? XD) mentioned your name as she walked around you with the same dark coat Thomas had placed upon your shoulders to keep you warm yesterday.

"Yes." you muttered between gritted teeth, trying not to yank the coat away from her filthy body.

"Mmm... Mr. Shelby kept mentioning that name in our session." She said with great despise. That information had your body in tingles. 'My name? in sex? in a normal convo? with another woman?' this came up to mind as the whore walked away after wafting her hair and up the stairs to Thomas's room, possibly to regain his favours to her.

Questions bursts out your mind to the thought that was left behind. "...Mr. Shelby kept mentioning that name..." but why?

-----

After that day, you have never seen Thomas again in Arrow House. Miss Florence said he was on a business trip somewhere and would not be back till Christmas. That gave you time to think and to reflect on the kiss. AND to that whores last comment on their 'sessions'. Weird enough you thought that maybe she just heard it wrong, if not wrong then... why?

That had your mind busy for the rest of the week. Although with all the chores in hand, it made you forget Thomas easily. Suddenly remembering that the audition to the Garrison bar was going to be held on Christmas Eve. You had asked Miss Florence to be excused for that day, which she allowed.

-----

"Y/N!" a familiar voice called out to you through the swirling snow. You turned and saw ‘Missus,’ bundled in her thick, patched-up coat, her breath visible in the cold air as she waved enthusiastically.

“Missus,” you greeted her with a smile, tugging your own coat tighter around you as the wind picked up. Despite the chill in the air, her warmth was contagious.

“Still don’t know why you’re wastin’ that voice of yours on dusty houses. Tonight’s your chance, love. Show ‘em what you’re made of!” she declared, stepping closer. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the cold or the drink she’d likely had before venturing out, you couldn’t tell.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you teased lightly, though you were secretly glad to have her there.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replied, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, let’s get inside before we freeze to death.”

The two of you entered the Garrison, the warmth and chaos of the pub hitting you like a wave. The air was thick with smoke and laughter, and the smell of ale lingered heavily. At the center of it all was a rather tone-deaf singer, standing on the makeshift stage, belting out a rowdy tune. Her pitch was so off that even the drunkest men in the room winced occasionally.

The pub owner, Harry, stood near the bar, shaking his head. “Alright, that’s enough! Off you go!” he barked, waving her down.

The woman staggered off, her cheeks burning as the crowd erupted in laughter and went back to their conversations. Harry rubbed his temple, muttering to himself as he reached for another pint.

Missus nudged you forward with her elbow. “Go on, love.”

You hesitated, your nerves getting the better of you, but Missus had no patience for second-guessing. She marched you straight to Harry. “Oy, Harry!”

The man turned, clearly unimpressed. “What now?”

“She’s here for the audition,” Missus announced proudly, gesturing to you like you were already a star.

Harry raised a skeptical brow, his eyes raking over you lazily. “You sing, do ya?”

“Yes,” you replied, your voice firmer than you felt inside.

“Sure, why not,” he said with a shrug. “You lot are all bloody awful anyway. The men are drunk enough, so go ahead—ruin my ears like the rest of ‘em.” He waved a dismissive hand toward the stage.

Before you could argue or even steady your nerves, Missus grabbed your arm and practically dragged you toward the stage. “That’s my girl!” she shouted, her voice echoing over the clamor of the pub. She plopped herself down at a table near the front, pint in hand, cheering you on with the enthusiasm of ten people.

You stood on the small stage, feeling the weight of every eye in the room—except for the ones you wanted most. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Thomas and his brothers seated in the far-right corner, engrossed in their own conversation. Thomas was leaning back in his chair, cigarette in hand, his expression unreadable. His brothers were equally disinterested, laughing at some joke you couldn’t hear over the din.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to the piano and sat, your hands trembling slightly as you placed it on the notes. The room began to quiet down, curious about the new face on stage.

>>>>MOOSIC<<<<

As the first notes of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” left the piano chords, the pub seemed to hold its breath. As you started to sing though that's when everyone was in awe. The soft, ethereal melody floated through the room, starkly different from the raucous atmosphere moments ago.

"It came upon the midnight clear,

that glorious song of old,

from angels bending near the earth

to touch their harps of gold:

"Peace on the earth, good will to men,

from heaven's all-gracious King."

The world in solemn stillness lay,

to hear the angels sing."

You glanced around as you sang. Some of the patrons were swaying gently, their mugs forgotten for a moment. Harry stood behind the bar, his usual gruffness replaced with a look of mild surprise. Missus was, of course, beaming at you, her pint raised high in salute.

And then your gaze landed on Thomas. He was no longer leaning back in his chair, his cigarette halfway to his lips, forgotten. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on you, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the pub had melted away.

His brothers seemed to notice his sudden silence, exchanging glances before following his gaze to the stage. But Thomas didn’t move. He simply watched, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper—something that sent a thrill through you as you hit the chorus:

"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,

from Heaven’s all-gracious King..."

Your voice grew stronger, more confident, as the room continued to listen in hushed awe.

"Still through the cloven skies they come

with peaceful wings unfurled,

and still their heavenly music floats

o'er all the weary world;"

Your voice rang clear and steady now, weaving through the smoky air like a hymn in a sacred hall. The clamor of the pub had ceased entirely, save for the occasional clink of a glass or the creak of a chair as someone shifted to get a better view.

"Above its sad and lowly plains,

they bend on hovering wing,

and ever o'er its Babel sounds

the blessed angels sing."

Your eyes swept across the room as the words spilled effortlessly from your lips, each note carrying a haunting beauty. The drunkards, their mugs poised mid-air, watched you with wide eyes. Missus raised her pint higher, tears glinting in her eyes as she mouthed along with the words, clearly as proud as any mother watching her child’s first recital.

But it was Thomas’s gaze that kept pulling you back. He was leaning forward now, his elbows on the table, his piercing blue eyes locked on you with an intensity that made your heart falter mid-note. His brothers were as amused as Thomas was, their quiet singing along going unnoticed by him as he remained transfixed.

The pub faded into a blur around you, and for a moment, it was just you and him. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, not quite a smile, but something softer, something rare. It made you feel both seen and exposed, like he was peeling back every layer of your soul with just a look.

You closed your eyes, letting the final verses of the carol guide you.

"For lo! the days are hastening on,

by prophet bards foretold,

when with the ever-circling years

comes round the age of gold;

when peace shall over all the earth

its ancient splendors fling,

and the whole world give back the song

which now the angels sing."

The last note hung in the air, delicate and trembling, before dissolving into the stillness.

The room erupted in applause, shattering the quiet spell you’d cast. Missus was on her feet, cheering loud enough to make up for anyone who wasn’t clapping. Harry nodded approvingly from the bar, a rare grin on his face.

And then there was Thomas. He didn’t clap, didn’t cheer, but his eyes said enough. There was something unspoken there, something electric that left you breathless as you stepped off the stage.

Missus grabbed you the moment your feet touched the floor, pulling you into a bear hug. “That’s my girl!” she hollered, spinning you around.

-----

As the noise swelled back into the room and the drunken revelry resumed, you glanced toward the far-right corner one last time. Thomas was no longer were he was, you looked around to see his brothers were eyeing you. John was grinning from ear to ear as he tipped his hat to you, you gestured with a soft smile. Arthur, visibly high from whatever he took, winked at you, making your soft smile widen a bit at the gesture as you shook your head continuing your drink with missus.

"Got a voice young lady, you ain't no whore like missus here ain't you?" Harry asked as he passed you your glass of water (you don't drink, taking care of your voice).

"No sir," you said in a hushed tone as missus and Harry glared knives at each other, clearly having a mental fight.

"Alright! you got the gig, every Saturday at noon. Don't be late." he huffed as he tended to other customers on the pub.

You beamed as you silently squealed with Missus. You now had enough jobs to be able to earn and go for an adventure; now it's just time to earn until-

Your reverie was cut short when a sudden familiar voice lingered behind you.

“Looking for me, darling?” His voice carried that familiar gruffness, the edges softened by something you couldn’t quite place.

You turned, startled but delighted. “Thomas,” you breathed, standing instinctively. His sharp blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, the entire pub seemed to dissolve around you.

“You’ve got a voice, Y/N,” he said, his tone quieter now, almost reverent. “Had the whole pub hanging on your every note. Even Arthur stopped his nonsense to listen.”

A faint blush crept up your neck at his words. “Thank you,” you murmured, your gaze falling briefly to the floor.

“I mean it,” he pressed. “Didn’t know you had that in you. If I’d known, I’d have dragged you to sing long ago.”

You smiled shyly but then felt the weight of a lingering question pull you back. Gathering your courage, you glanced up at him. “Thomas... about something the other day…”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

You inhaled deeply, your words tumbling out before your nerves could catch you. “That woman. Back at the Arrow House. She said you... mentioned my name. During her... visit.”

For the first time, you saw Thomas falter. His jaw tightened, and he cleared his throat, glancing away. “Ah, bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair.

“Well?” you prompted, your heart pounding.

He sighed, cursing himself softly before meeting your gaze again. “I did,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “She said somethin’ about loyalty or... some nonsense, and your name just... slipped out.”

“Slipped out?” you repeated, your brows arching.

“Can’t help what’s on my mind, love,” he said with a sheepish grin. “After our kiss in the kitchen that night I couldn't stop thinking about you, I couldn't possibly have you on your knees all of a sudden," he paused as he huffed another batch of his cigar. "You-your were a lady when I first saw you. Not a personal maid, so I fell for your soul and well voice now too and it’s going to be bloody distracting now that I have these in mind.”

He paused yet again, seemingly trying to recall all his thoughts, which were now visibly in jumbles. "I like to get to know you," he said as he stubbed his cigar dead on the ashtray. "It seemed like I've known you for years when we had just met that very day, and I won't be able to stop thinking about you now."

Your cheeks burned at his confession, and you averted your eyes, a small, flustered laugh escaping your lips. “Well, I... I suppose I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” you confessed, your voice barely audible over the noise of the pub.

His grin widened, the rare softness in his expression making your heart stutter. “Then we’ve both been fools, haven’t we?” he murmured, stepping closer. “Let me make it right. Take you out. Like a real lady.”

Before you could answer, Missus yanked you back by the arm, her eyes narrowed. “Not so fast, lover boy,” she said, pointing a finger at Thomas. “I’m takin’ her home, since you two might start shagging when she goes back to Arrow House today.”

“Missus!" shocked by her boldness but not surprised as she was already dragging you toward the door.

“Tomorrow, then!” Thomas called after you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

-----(Present Day, December 25th)

The warmth of the fireplace cast a golden glow over the living room as your daughter sat cross-legged on the floor by the Christmas tree, her curious eyes fixed on you. “But Mommy! Missus says she did no such thing!” she exclaimed, giggling.

You shot a playful glare at Missus, who was sitting comfortably in the armchair by the fire, sipping her tea. “Oh, did she now?” you teased, shaking your head.

Missus laughed, her graying hair framing her face. “Don’t listen to her, love. I was just keeping your mother out of trouble.”

The room filled with laughter until a familiar voice interrupted. “Baby, Daddy needs Mommy for a while, yeah? Why don't you go and play with Missus for a while.” Thomas said, stepping into the room.

Your daughter lit up and nodded. “Okay, Daddy!” she chirped, running over to Missus with her toys in hand.

Thomas extended a hand to you, his expression as unreadable as ever but his eyes warm. As soon as you were in the hallway, he leaned closer. “What were you tellin’ her?”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Just the story of how we met. You know, the softer version.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Softer version, eh? Did you leave out the bit where I killed Luca Changretta for your hand?”

A laugh bubbled from your lips as you shook your head. “No, it’s a bit too brutal for a five-year-old, my dear Tommy.”

He smirked, his hands sliding over yours. “In time, then,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection. “But for now…”

Without warning, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you effortlessly toward the stairs.

“Thomas!” you squealed, laughing loudly as you clung to him.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he whispered, his grin widening as he carried you up, your laughter echoing through the house.

-----(Thomas's POV)

Thomas scooped you into his arms, holding you close as though you were the most precious thing in his world. He started up the stairs, his steps steady yet unhurried.

“You don’t have to carry me, you know,” you said, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

He looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Oh, I do. You’re my princess tonight—and every night.”

Your cheeks flushed as you playfully swatted his shoulder. “You’re so cheesy, Thomas.”

“Only for you,” he replied, leaning down to brush his lips against your forehead.

As he entered the room, he nudged the door shut with his foot and gently placed you on the bed. The golden glow of the fairy lights illuminated your face, making you look ethereal. He slowly placed you down onto your shared bed and paused, taking you in as if committing the moment to memory.

“You’re staring,” you teased, your lips curling into a soft smile.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You’re breathtaking.”

Your smile faltered, replaced by a look of vulnerability. “You make me feel that way,” you murmured.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “That’s because it’s true,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours.

He began to trail kisses along your cheeks and down your neck, his movements slow and deliberate. “Tell me if I ever do too much,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm and comforting.

“You could never do too much,” you replied, your voice steady but filled with emotion. “I trust you.”

His lips curved into a smile against your neck. “I’ll make sure you never regret that,” he said, his tone serious yet filled with love.

As your connection deepened, you let out a soft laugh. “You’re so gentle, Thomas. It’s like you’re afraid I’ll break.”

“I’m not afraid,” he replied, his voice a mix of playfulness and sincerity. “I just want you to know how much I adore you—every part of you.”

As he said those words, his lips were now down to yours. Tickling your lower abdomen with soft kisses and slowly licking your clit from top to the bottom, making you hiss in pleasure.

He couldn't get over the taste of you, finer than the whisky he drinks and the cigar he smokes. He can forget Ophium, when you are one addicting woman.

"Fuck... I love you Y/N" He mutters as he laps his wet tongue through your slit and holds your hips as you were twitching heavy. His thumb on your clit drawing circles slowly and at rhythm to his tongue.

When he hears you scream his name like a prayer his pants suddenly felt tight and he couldn't let it wait any longer, he had to make you cum on his mouth now or never.

"Cum for me baby. Please... Oh God Please let me taste you" as he enters his tongue in you and his nose nuzzled on your clit and fingers twisting your nipples, fast.

"Th-Thomas! I-I'm Ah!" and release you did. However that didn't stop him and he kept his ministering to you until you could feel that satisfying release on the depths of your stomach.

"Thomas! I... I might make a mess..." You plead him as you trashed on his grasp without avail for his biceps were locked on your hips and legs. "Then make a mess. I'd love to see you make a mess for me, love"

And you squirted on his mouth. As he slowly pulls himself away and smirks looking at your majestic image, "Fuck, love you look gorgeous".

He was about to come back down and devour you once more but you won't let that happen this Christmas day. So, when you took control, he couldn’t help but smile up at you as your fingers traced the sharp angles of his face. “You know, I don’t think I say this enough,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s that?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips as he gazed up at you, completely captivated.

“I love you,” you said simply, your words carrying the weight of your feelings.

His eyes softened, and a slow smile spread across his lips. “You don’t have to say it all the time. I feel it every moment I’m with you.”

When you finally lay side by side, your breaths still mingling, Thomas turned to you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re my everything, you know that?” he said softly.

You smiled, your eyes glistening. “You’re mine, too,” you replied.

He chuckled, his voice warm and low. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas, Thomas,” you whispered back, as you kissed him softly on his lips.

Thomas groaned, a low sound of pleasure, as you shifted your position, straddling him. Inserting his cock to yours, His hands instinctively found your waist, holding you steady as you began to move. His breath hitched, and he looked up at you with an expression that was equal parts awe and adoration.

“You’re going to be the end of me,” he murmured, his voice strained yet teasing, as his hands tightened slightly on your hips, guiding your rhythm.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “I think you like it this way.”

A chuckle escaped him, though it quickly dissolved into another groan as you continued. His head fell back against the pillow, exposing his neck as he surrendered entirely to you. Your fingers slid to his jaw, tilting his face back toward you.

“Look at me,” you said softly, your voice firm but full of affection.

His eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours as your hand moved to his throat. You applied the slightest pressure, watching as his breath hitched and his gaze darkened.

“Is this okay?” you asked, pausing briefly to ensure he was comfortable.

Thomas’s hands slid up your sides, his grip reassuring. “Perfect,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

You continued, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring the moment as much as he was. His hands roamed your body, occasionally tightening as he got closer to the edge.

“I’m not going to last,” he murmured, his voice strained.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips as you whispered, “Then don’t hold back, baby.”

Moments later, the tension in his body gave way, and he groaned your name, his voice heavy with release. You followed shortly after, your body trembling as you reached your peak.

Breathless, you collapsed onto his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. Neither of you spoke for a while, the only sound in the room being your steady breaths mingling together.

Thomas finally broke the silence, his voice soft and full of contentment. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You smiled against his chest, your fingers drawing lazy patterns on his skin. “Merry Christmas, Thomas.”

----

🐧Hopefully I ended that well :"D aha... mhen :"D I just wanted it to be cute and all since its christmas aha~ so merry christmas everyone ^^ have a happy holiday ^^🐧

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Part One - Part Two

[chrizrizz]

Imagine telling Chris you love him for the first time but it's in bed...

MDNI !!

Your thighs are burning. Tonight is one of the rare times Chris has just laid back and let you ride him.

He looks absolutely mouth-watering. With one hand behind his head and the other lazily laid on your hip, he is watching you with a soft look.

"You are so beautiful," he sighs.

Even though you have been bare in front of him for quite some time already, this is the moment your cheeks start burning. You lower yourself and nuzzle your face into his neck in an effort to hide yourself from his look.

"Come here."

He slides his hand from your hip over your back to your scalp and gently tugs on your hair. You lift your head just a bit, but that's all he needs to join jour lips in a slow, lazy kiss.

Neither of you is really focused on the kiss, just wanting to touch each other as much as you could.

You feel the pleasure building up, slowly spreading from your belly to the whole body all the way to the tips of your fingers. The sudden wave makes you dig your nails into his chest. His hips jump at the feeling.

"Chris- I-" you whine out cut by your own moan. "Fuck... You make me feel so good. I- Fuck- I love you."

It just slipped out. You have been thinking about saying the L-word for a bit now, but you have been waiting for the right time. It just slipped out.

The effect of your words is immediate. Chris whined, his hips buckling into you as he filled you up.

☆☆☆

It's fair to say he was surprised and maybe a bit embarrassed by his sudden orgasm, because he always tries to make sure you cum first, but you certainly won't be left high and dry, I can promise you that.

He will replay your words in his head over and over for days to decipher if you really meant it. He is too anxious to ask, though, fearing your answer. You will have to tell him again and you know that time will come.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

You're Already Mine

aegon x f!reader // irrelevant!male x f!reader for 2 secs

au-ish where there are other dragon houses/families in westeros (kinda giving valyria ig) but targs still rule 👑  bc why street race in the modern world when you could dragon race in this fantasy world 

Summary: You finally meet a rider worth your time at a race in the Kingswood. Having no care for the consequences, you spend the night with him and you both hope it won’t be the last.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, vulgar language, drinking, public(dragonback), fingering, oral(f), p in v, a fake wedding, ’whore’ is somewhat a term of endearment?, mention of pleasure houses and brothels

Authors Note: save me aegon the magnanimous save me 🧎🏼‍♀️ we were robbed of sunfyre and egg 🫠 this was supposed to be chill but i forgot i don’t know how to be chill w him 

Word Count: 6.7k

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You’ve been secretly seeing the son of one of your fathers vassals for a couple months now. The rumors of you both have been causing tensions at family meals and you couldn’t be more delighted. Your mother reprimands you time and time again that you need to stop dragging the family name through the realm or it’ll ruin your chances to marry into a house of equal or better standing. You couldn’t care less of the house's standing but whether the man had a dragon or not and the son of the vassal has a dragon. 

That’s all that he has going for him. He’s not even set to inherit his family seat, not that it was much anyway, but when he flew to your Keep you had to have him. He wasn’t the only one in his family to have a dragon but the way he carried himself drew you in. At first he seemed ever the perfect gentleman but after you bedded him, he started acting differently. He seemed to only use you for your cunt and you in turn only used him for his dragon. The past couple of months he’s taken you to different dragon races and you use these meets to see if you can find a better suitor. You know it’s vain and you shouldn’t use him but he’s using you. 

So now you wait patiently on your chaise for the vassal's son to come and sneak you out of your chambers. He said he would meet you after moonrise and the moon has been high in the sky for well over an hour now. As the minutes tick by you become more annoyed and rise walking to the table to pour yourself a glass of wine. You down the cup and tap your fingers against the bottle debating on filling your glass once more. When you begin to tilt the bottle there’s a rapid knock and you sigh with relief as he slips through the door.

“Gods I thought you would never get here.” you place the bottle on the table abandoning your glass. “We’re gonna be late.” you pout and he chuckles pulling you out of your chambers. 

“You know I’m the fastest flier there is.” he puffs his chest out and you roll your eyes. 

“Yes, of course.” you pat his arm as he tugs you down the dark halls. He’s nowhere near the fastest flier in the realm let alone this city. 

“Up you go.” his hand lands on your ass and you scoff before starting your ascent up the side of the winged animal. You take your seat and chuckle as he takes his seat behind you and pulls you against him. “I love that you refuse to wear riding leathers.” his fingers dance up your bare thighs. 

“If you make us late I’ll make sure to never wear a dress around you again.” his hand lands on the inside of your thigh and you gasp. 

Before you can turn around with your retort he has you both climbing to the skies. You hold tightly to the saddle as you pull further off the ground. A smile spreads across your face as his dragon launches you forward and the wind whips through your hair. This is the reason you stay with him. You’ve never been able to find a replacement for the freedom riding a dragon offers.  As he starts your descent your eyes search around the forest floor to see if you spot any new dragons. 

Aegon watches as you slide down the side of some losers dragon and groans as he watches your dress slide up showing him your stockings and thighs. He decides you’ll be his by the end of the night no matter what it takes. He watches as you ignore the rider and look around with wide eyes until they stop on Sunfyre. He smirks knowing he has you now. Aegon chuckles as you tug the rider's arm and point to Sunfyre excitedly and he watches as the rider starts to frown. 

“And what’s so special about her? Besides the fact that she’s obviously here with someone.” his friend follows his eyeline to you. 

“She likes Sunfyre.” he drags his eyes back to his friends as they offer him a cup of ale. 

“How have you decided this?” one of them laughs. 

“She was looking at him.” he takes a sip. “All wide eyed.” he nods and his friends start to chuckle. 

“He’s gold. Of course she’s going to look at him.” Aegon waves his friends off and downs his cup. 

He walks over to Sunfyre and pats at his chest as he curls his neck around him. His dragon chuffs as he scratches at his scales. Aegon chuckles as Sunfyre starts to circle around him. When his tail swishes past his head you’re standing in front of him with a smile plastered across your face and a fuming male rider behind you. He bats Sunfyre back who sits behind him as he approaches you. 

“He’s so very beautiful.” you coo looking up at his dragon. Aegon smiles at your tone and sees the rider flare his nostrils. 

“I’m sure he’s blushing hearing that coming from you.” your eyes flick to his and you look over the silver haired rider and sigh. This rider and his dragon are absolutely devastating. 

“What’s his name?” you step closer and Sunfyre purrs, craning his head down towards you. 

“Sunfyre.” Aegon offers the name and your face softens. 

“Sunfyre.” you hum. “Because he’s as golden and as beautiful as the sun.” you muse as the golden dragon hovers a couple feet above you. 

“He’s very sweet.” Aegon smiles watching you reach up toward him. 

“If you touch his dragon I’m leaving you here.” the vassal's son grits through his teeth. 

“Sunfyre doesn’t mind giving a ride home to a beautiful woman in need.” Aegon smirks at you and watches you mirror his expression as you reach your fingers higher for his dragon. 

“Such a sweet boy.” you hum as Sunfyre presses his snout into your hand. “So handsome.” you hum as he lowers his head and you bring your other hand up to him. 

“You’re a whore.” the vassal's son's voice is dripping with hatred. You snap your head back to him and as you open your mouth Sunfyre’s rider speaks. 

“Aren’t we all?” Aegon raises his brow and you turn your attention back to him. 

“Then you can have her.” he waves off both of you and stomps away. 

“Who might my new ride be?” you tilt your head at the silver haired man. 

“Aegon.” he watches with a smile as his dragon curls around you as you offer him your name. 

“Not like the Aegon?” you can already tell this is the Prince from how finely his riding leathers are. 

“So you’ve heard of me?” he tilts his head looking at you.

“Unfortunately my parents made me study with the septa everyday so yes, I know of you, my Prince.” you make a show of bowing lowly. 

“I might prefer you a little lower.” he purrs and your eyes flick up to his. 

“How would you like me? I’m yours to command.” you blink up at him, nibbling your lip.

“Preferably on your knees.” he watches your face spread with amusement before Sunfyre pushes you towards him. He reaches out and steadies you and you look closer at him and feel your cheeks heat. “I didn’t know whores blushed.” the words come from his mouth automatically and he is so scared you’re going to turn and leave him but then you laugh and everything changes. 

“I can’t believe you said that.” you wipe away the tears as you hold your stomach still laughing. 

“I can’t either.” he scolds himself for his voice wavering. 

“It seems as if whores get shy as well.” you hum brushing your fingers against his blush. After the words leave your mouth he knows he’s never letting you go. 

“Do you want to fly with me tonight?” he watches your pupils dilate.

“You’ll let me ride with you when you race?” a smile spreads across your face. “Really?” you search his eyes.

“Did he not let you ride with him?” he scrunches his brows looking at you as you shake your head.

“He said it would slow him down.” you nibble your lip. 

“You’ll ride with me tonight.” he nods his head and your heart begins to race. “Do you have riding leathers or?” he stands back and looks at your dress. 

“I don’t like wearing them.” you look up at him. “Will it be too distracting for you to have my skirts up to my waist?” he smirks thinking about the way you’ll be pressed back against him as he races through the sky. 

“I’d be okay if you just took it off.” he says lowly and your tongue darts across your lower lip. 

“You’d have to keep me warm.” you step closer to him. 

“That’s not an issue.” he pulls you flush against his chest and smirks that you melt into him right away. He feels your hand reach for your dress laces and he groans, stopping your hand.

“Mm, too scandalous for you?” you smile up at him. “Are you a maiden, my Prince?” you whisper as his eyes grow wide. 

“No, I just- 

“I’m sullying the perfect, pure prince with my whorish ways.” you sigh and he grabs you pulling you against him. 

“I just want to show you off to my friends before I fuck the words out of you.” he says lowly watching your cheeks slowly flush. He grabs your hand and starts to lead you in the direction of his friends spread around the massive fire. 

“You stole her away from that rider already?” a man with blonde hair looks up at Aegon incredulously. 

“She came to me.” he corrects. “I told you that she liked Sunfyre.” Aegon rolls his eyes, waving him off.

“When did you tell them this?” you ask with a smirk on your face. 

“Gods the second you slid off that dragon I thought he was going-

“That's enough.” Aegon nods and grabs the flagon and fills two cups. 

“But I want to hear this.” you accept the cup with a smile and sit on the ground with his friends.

“You saw the drool coming from him when her skirts lifted up right?” another one of his friends jokes with the blonde from earlier. 

“How Sunfyre needed tending to right before a drinking game.” another male chimes in and Aegon groans taking a seat next to you. 

“He did.” he glares at his friends over the lip of his cup.

“Are you blushing again?” you chuckle and he turns his head quickly to you as his friends start to giggle. 

“Gods not you too.” he rubs his face. His friends all start talking over one another and you lean against him.

“I need tending to.” you whisper in his ear.

“Is that so?” he whispers back, his lips brushing against your ear sending shivers through you. 

“If you put your hand up my skirts you’ll know what I need.” he swallows and turns to look down at you looking up at him innocently. As he’s about to respond a horn sounds and the riders start to walk towards the announcer. 

“Later.” he pats your thigh before rising off the ground. 

He holds his hand out for you and brings you with him to the gathering riders. You cling against him as you enter the crowd while he leads you both to the front. The announcer claps Aegon on the shoulder and brings you both up next to him. You feel no better than a man as you lean against him watching all of the women look at him with soft pouts. Your hand slides up his back to his hair almost possessively and he chuckles looking down at you. 

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be holding you like a metal.” he whispers down to you. 

“I’m not stopping you.” you grin up at him. You gasp as he pulls you against him and presses his lips to yours. As quickly as his lips are on you they’re gone and he’s looking down at your red cheeks. “One more?” you pout and he presses his lips to yours quickly. The announcer clears his throat and Aegon turns back towards him. 

“I wanted to make it clear that attacks and burning are not permitted.” Aegon rolls his eyes. It was once and he didn’t even start it. “With that, to your mounts.” the announcer claps his hands together. Aegon leads you back over to Sunfyre keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. 

“Are you ready?” he pulls you in front of him. 

“I’m a little nervous.” you chew on your cheek. “I don’t want to slow you down.” he rolls his eyes. 

“Trust me you won’t.” he smooths your hair back. “If anything I’ll fly faster just to impress my sweet whore.” you playfully push him back. 

“Well help your sweet whore up or it seems we’ll be left behind.” you nod to all of the riders on top of their dragons already. 

“Let’s go,” he smiles. “I wouldn’t want you to go home with another loser.” he gives you a quick spank pulling a gasp from your lips as you start your ascent. He helps you to climb up keeping his fingers dug into your hips as you straddle the leather. He watches your skirts ride up exposing your stockings and bare thighs to him once more. You lean forward to offer him more space and he groans when you arch your back as he presses in behind you. “Just like this.” he pulls you back roughly and lifts your dress more. 

“Aegon.” you shiver at the breeze and his hand trailing up your thigh. 

“It seems as if you do need tending to.” he smiles hearing your whimper as he trails a finger up the center of your small clothes. You squirm in his arms as he starts to press his lips to your exposed neck. “You’re gonna have to hold on tight.” you nod your head and reach out to grab onto the saddle. He watches as your knuckles turn white as his fingers slip under your small clothes. 

“Yes,” you cry out at the soft swirl of his fingers against your bud. 

Aegon fists the reins in one hand as you push back into him. The whimpers leaving your mouth make him want to abandon this race but Gods the thought of you coming on his fingers as he wins this has him straightening his back and getting into position. The horn bellows and you push back into his chest as Sunfyre shoots into the sky. 

One moment you’re rocking against Aegon's fingers the next the ground his meters below. You sigh as his fingers leave your small clothes but it’s soon made up as the wind slips through your hair. Sunfyre gives out a cry and pushes forward faster. You turn your head to the side and see the other dragons falling behind. You smile and peer up at Aegon who’s concentrating on keeping course. 

The sounds of your laughter cause Aegon's chest to tighten. The way you lean with him when he starts to turn brings a smile to his face. You can feel the confidence and energy pouring off of Aegon and it’s exciting you to no end. You’ve never flown this fast before and you get lost in the freedom of it. The winds shift once more as he turns back as you make your final stretch of the race. There’s a couple dragons behind but they are quickly forgotten when he slips his fingers back into your small clothes. 

“Fuck Aegon,” you whine as his finger start to quickly circle your bud as he presses you closer against the saddle. He feels your hips roll against his hand and he slides his fingers down and slips them into you. He groans into your ear at the feel of you squeezing his fingers before he starts to pump his fingers. His thumb comes to circle on your bud once more and your body trembles beneath him. “Please.” you squeak. 

Aegon tightens his grip on the reins and jolts Sunfyre forward faster. You gasp leaning back into his chest and he smiles as he sees the smoke rising from the fire. He starts to move his fingers faster and Sunfyre starts to dip back to the ground. Your heart races as you chase your high and feel yourself falling. The second Sunfyre touches the ground Aegon slams his fingers faster and your pleasure snaps. 

“Aegon.” you moan loudly and heads start to turn your way as your chest heaves until more dragons begin landing behind you. He chuckles listening to your soft whines as he continues to slowly pump into you. 

“We won.” he whispers as he pulls his fingers out. 

“You can have me as your prize.” you pant and he pulls you back against him. 

“You’re already mine.” he brings his fingers to his mouth to clean them off. “Let’s go celebrate.” he hums, helping you off of the saddle. When your feet touch the ground you sigh seeing the vassal’s son approaching. 

“Are you coming home with me?” you can’t help the laugh that slips out. 

“No, she’s coming home with me.” Aegon pulls you to his side with a grin. 

“What do you think your parents will say? They’ll know you’ve been sullied then.” you blink at him as if that mattered to you.

“They’ll be glad it’s by a Prince and advocate for a betrothal.” you bite your lip to hide your smile. “They’ve been begging me to get rid of you for some time now anyways.” you watch his face drop and Aegon chuckles. 

“And you’d marry him?” he glares at you. 

“I’ll at least fuck him.” you shrug and his mouth drops. “He’s already made me come and that’s more than I can say about you.” his face gets red before he turns and leaves.

“He never made you come?” Aegon looks down at you with scrunched brows. 

“No.” you feel your cheeks heat. 

“Never?” you shake your head again. “Has anyone ever made you come?” he tilts his head. 

“You.” you look up at him. “And my fingers.” your voice barely audible and he groans.

“Use my fingers next time.” he smiles watching you flush. “Or my tongue.” he steps closer to you, keeping his voice down. “Or my cock.” he runs his fingers down your arm before he presses his lips to yours. His arms slowly wrap around you pulling you against him while you cling onto the front of his riding leathers. He smiles at your soft gasp as he licks along the seam of your lips. When he pushes his tongue into your mouth you completely dissolve into him. 

He groans hearing his friends approaching voices and cheers and reluctantly pulls back watching you look up at him with parted lips. His friends tug him from you and jump all over him congratulating him on his victory. He pushes them off playfully before pulling you back to his side. You both follow his friends back to the fire and one of them fills up cups and passes them out. 

As the night grows older the more you lean against Aegon. Most of the other riders and dragons are gone, allowing the atmosphere to settle. You don’t think of the consequences you’ll face in the morning, only of how the night will end. Aegon feels you scooting closer and he wraps his arm tighter around you before resting his head on top of yours. You grab his hand, studying his fingers and rings. You move and look up at him and he smirks. 

“I want to use your fingers.” you whisper and he clears his throat. ”Please,” you slightly pout your lips. 

“Let me just-

“So when is the wedding?” one of his friends says pulling you both out of your bubble and you flush seeing his friends watching you both with smiles. 

“Hopefully by the end of the week.” Aegon smiles squeezing your side. 

“Aegon,” you roll your eyes lightheartedly. 

“You’re right. Why wait? We should get married now.” he nods and you smirk up at him. One of his friends clears their throat dramatically and rises pulling your attention to him. 

“It would be my honor,” he bows ridiculously deep. “To be the high septon for you both tonight.” Aegon looks up at him with a toothy grin. 

“And I, the witness.” the blonde stands. 

“Shall you be our flower girl then?” you nod your head at his remaining friend and they laugh. 

“Yes, yes,” Aegon giggles, nodding his head and you turn to him at the sound seeing his face light up. “Then it’s settled. Get to it. Tell us when our ceremony is ready.” you watch as his friends jump to their feet and start moving things around. 

“I didn’t plan on getting married tonight.” you look at Aegon who is already watching you. 

“Oh Gods.” he buries his head in his hands. “You’re getting cold feet?” he looks up at you as you try to hide your smile. 

“I’d say tepid.” he groans and leans back until he’s laying on the ground. 

“You wound me, my betrothed.” he pulls you down onto his chest. He brings your lips to his and you scoot further up to press yourself against him. His hands find your ass and dig into it pulling a gasp from your mouth. 

“This seems like coercion, my Prince.” you mumble against his lips. He chuckles, bringing one of his hands up to your hair and bringing you back down to his lips. 

“Now, now, no fucking until its official.” his friends let out small giggles and you begin to untangle. “Come all to witness the Prince marry the one he has claimed.” you both chuckle seeing his friends gather closer to the fire. 

Aegon helps you up and leads you over to his friends and they begin to move you both around. You walk with one of his friends to the end of the gravel walkway and wait until Aegon is next to the false septon. Aegon whispers to his friend with a smile and he pulls back and looks at him with scrunched brows. You hear a loud exhale and watch as he winces before he starts to talk again. 

“I’ll now have you all turn your attention to Aegon's chosen whore.” you cover your mouth as you begin to laugh. Aegon watches you with a smile and holds his hand out towards you. His friend next to you tosses grass around while you walk up to Aegon. 

“Your chosen whore?” you look up at him with a grin. 

“Let the Gods look down and bear witness to this union. Bless them with many orgasms and drinks. Many sleepless nights and hungover mornings. Gods if you can hear this please bless this woman’s cunt from how thoroughly the Prince is going to fuck it tonight.” you can’t stop your snort of laughter and Aegon pulls you closer. “With the Gods as my witness I now announce you man and wife.” Aegon's lips smash to yours as he lifts you into his arms. 

“Pick a ring.” he holds up his hand to you. “Just for now. I’ll get you one tomorrow.” he mumbles against your lips. You grab the ring closest to you and slip it on your hand and he slowly sets you back down. 

“I don’t have a ring for you.” you look up at him. 

“Let me have your small clothes.” he sinks to the ground. 

“Aegon.” you softly scold. He smirks as you flush above him. He disappears under your skirts and starts to pull your small clothes down. He places a soft kiss on your slit before pulling them down to your ankles and having you step out. 

“Thank you.” he wraps them around his wrist and his friends cheer and laugh watching the exchange. Aegon grabs your hand and tugs you away from the fire and spins you around the open field. You look and see his friends leaving the both of you and going back to drinking. You rest your head against his chest as he sways you under the moon. “What if I’m the one who begs for a true betrothal in the morning?” he mumbles, holding you closer so you can’t look up at his flushed face. 

“Aegon.” you chuckle hearing his heart's rapid beating. 

“Let me court you at least.” his hands squeeze your waist. “Please.” he presses his forehead against yours, finally taking in your eyes. 

“Why do you want to court me?” you roll your eyes. 

“Cause you’re my chosen whore and you laugh with my friends.” you raise your brows. 

“Wow Aegon. I didn’t know your expectations were so high.” he hears your laugh but it doesn’t have the same ring to it. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” he stops swaying with you to really look at you. “I just- I don’t know, I think you're perfect and funny. You’re so beautiful. You like Sunfyre and want to race with us. You don’t think I’m some pig.” he rambles before seeing the grin form on your face. “Fuck,” he groans shutting his eyes. “I don’t know what to say without sounding stupid.” he looks down when you lean your head against his chest once more. 

“I think your stupidity is endearing.” you smile as he holds you closer. 

“Then let me court you so you can be around my stupidity more often.” he starts to regain some of his confidence. “You’ll be closer to my cock too.” you pull back to look up at him with a smile. “I can arrange it so your chambers are next to mine.” he nods. 

“I don’t even know if I like your cock yet.” you purse your lips. “What if it’s tiny? What if you don’t fuck me the way I want?” you watch his eyes light with amusement. 

“Then let’s go back to the Keep.” he starts tugging you in the direction of Sunfyre.

“Why?” you chew your lip with a smile, almost jogging to keep up with his pace. 

“So we can find out if you like my cock or not.” he turns to take in your red cheeks. “And it’s our wedding night.” he pulls your hand to his mouth as we start to pass his friends. 

“Enjoy bedding your wife.” one of his friends calls out and the rest of them laugh. 

“I’m sure the rest of the Keep will enjoy hearing it.” another calls out and he laughs helping you climb back up Sunfyre. 

Aegon helps you sit and smiles at your soft whine when your bare center meats the cold leather. He scoots you up and you whimper his name as his hands trail up your thighs. Sunfyre lifts you both into the sky and begins the journey to King's Landing. Aegon wraps the reins around the handles and brings his hands to you. His hand slips beneath your skirts and you push back into him. 

“Does that feel good, my wife?” he smiles feeling your body start to tremble. “Do you like the way my fingers feel when they play with your wet cunny?” he circles his fingers around your bud faster. 

“Oh Gods, husband.” you whine rocking against his hand. “Yes,” your soft whimpers have him turning your head and capturing your lips. You gasp into his mouth as he moves faster. 

“Gonna come again for me?” you nod your head as your legs start to shake. Your lidded eyes slide up to his as your pleasure washes through you. You wrap your hand around his wrist as he keeps swirling his fingers. “Need a break already?” he chuckles as you jerk against his hand. He pulls his hand out and leans you back against him. 

“Thank you.” you squirm as he presses his lips against your neck. 

“Once I get you in bed there will be no more breaks.” he bites down softly, smiling at your whimper. 

As Sunfyre circles the city you look at the streets still filled with people. Aegon watches your face light up and has Sunfyre soar over the city once more before landing at the pits. As you slide down into the cave you turn as Aegon starts to remove his riding gear. When he’s left in his tunic and trousers he walks over to you grabbing your hand. 

“Shall we go home?” he presses his lips to his ring on your hand. 

“Yes,” you nod looking up at him. “Let’s see if your cock is to my liking.” you hum and he starts tugging you down the stone halls. As you exit the dragon pits you look down upon the city at your feet. Aegon watches as a smile forms on your face and pushes away his desire, ready to parade you through the city and show you anything you want. 

“Do you want to walk back?” he watches you chew your lip in thought but your desire outweighs everything.

“Take me to bed now and show me the city later.” he’s pulling you to the carriage his guard is standing in front of and whisks you inside. When the door snaps shut he pulls you onto his lap and presses your lips together. “I’ve been dying to ride another dragon.” he groans as you start to pull at his trousers. 

“I’m not fucking you for the first time in this wooden box.” he grabs your wrist chuckling as you pout. He pulls you back down to his lips, letting you grind against him. You let out small whines as you feel his cock press into your bare center. He sighs in relief as the carriage comes to a stop and he pulls you off of him. As you step out into the night air he chuckles as you crane your neck up at the Keep. 

“Don’t laugh at me.” you squeeze his side. “I haven’t been here in years. My parents don’t come to court often.” you purse your lips. 

“I’ll show you everything later.” he pulls you in through the main doors and you trail after him looking around at the art on the walls. He leads you through the dim halls and up the stairs before he comes to a stop in front of a set of double doors. 

“Are these our chambers, husband?” he has you sealed inside before he responds and you take in his thoroughly lived in chambers. “You’re a little messy.” you nibble your lip trying to hide your smirk. 

“I don’t usually have anyone in my chambers.” he scrunches his brows. 

“Then where do you take your pleasure, Aegon?” you walk over to him and he blushes wondering how you got the upper hand at this moment. 

“Brothels and pleasure houses.” he mumbles looking down at you. 

“Will you take me to one?” his eyes widen at your request. “Not tonight.” you chuckle patting his chest. “Maybe when you sneak me out of my chambers that will be next to yours? We can see and try new things together.” Aegon's mind goes blank at your words. 

“Yes.” he nods his head quickly. “Gods yes. Please marry me.” you laugh and he’s pulling you to his chest and quickly starts to unlace your dress. He pulls it down your shoulders and leaves it discarded on the floor and stands back to look at you. “Gods I’m thankful that man never made you come.” he walks over to you letting his fingertips coast over your skin. 

“Why?” your voice shaky as you tremble under his touch. 

“Cause you left him for me.” he says with a smirk. “And I get to show you what real pleasure is.” you pull at his tunic as he starts to press his lips to your neck. He starts to kiss down your chest to your breasts while his fingers tease the underside of them. 

“Aegon,” you whine as his tongue glides across your nipple. 

“I’m sure he never offered these the proper attention either.” he circles the hard peak before blowing on it. He smiles watching you clench your legs before he sucks your nipple back into his mouth. When your fingers travel to his hair and softly tug is when he brings his hand between your thighs. He teasingly trails one finger down your slit and your fingers tighten in his hair. 

“Please,” your soft plea goes straight to his cock as he licks over to your other nipple. 

“I didn’t know whores begged.” he chuckles and you pull his hair tightly. 

“Maybe I should’ve picked a rider who could be quiet.” you purse your lips looking down at him and his hand lands on your ass. 

“No one else could ever make you feel as good as I can.” he bites teasingly next to your nipple before he backs you up to the bed. “Has anyone ever licked your sweet little cunny?” he lays you back watching a flush spread across your chest as you shake your head. “Can I?” you nod quickly and he kneels on the floor and slowly spreads your legs pressing his lips to the insides of your thighs. 

“Mm,” a soft moan falls from your lips and you watch him lick the sides of your slit. When his tongue pushes into your core your eyes fall shut. His tongue is slow and deliberate as he listens to how you react to each swipe and flick. Each small jerk of your hips spurs him on to keep showering you with pleasure. You arch off the bed when his tongue circles your bud and pulls you flush against his mouth fully devouring you.

“Aegon,” you gasp as your hand flies to his hair. “Oh Gods,” you rock against his mouth as his tongue lashes against you. Every noise that comes from you goes straight to Aegon's cock and makes him move his tongue faster. Your stomach tightens and you hold his face against you feeling your high quickly approaching. “Please, yes,” you cry out as your thighs slam around his head. Aegon moans into you, licking at you as you shutter above him. 

“Did you like that?” his tone teasing as he lifts up from you with a wet chin, licking his lips. 

“Yes,” you nod, still trying to catch your breath. You watch as he stands and starts to pull off his tunic and trousers. Your eyes travel to his cock and your legs spread a little wider.

“Is my cock big enough for you?” he fists himself watching you squirm up his bed as he walks towards you. “Do you think your little cunny will hug it nicely?” he taunts as he crawls over you on the bed lifting and scooting you up towards his pillows. He leans down and presses his lips to yours as his tip slides between your slit. “Does that feel good?” he chuckles watching you squirm as he slowly rocks his hips.

“Please Aegon,” you whine arching up into him. 

“What do you want?” he presses his lips against your neck. 

“Fuck me. Please,” you feel his cock twitch between your legs. “Aegon, please,” he lines himself up and slowly starts to push into you. “Yes.” the softest plea he’s heard comes from you as he rolls his hips. He repeats his actions a little faster to hear your noises. 

“You feel so good.” he groans as you wrap your legs around him. 

“Harder.” you hear his low chuckle before he snaps his hips into yours. He starts a harsh pace and pulls back to watch your pleasure take over your body. When his thumb brushes against your bud it takes you so unexpectedly that you pulse around him. “Aegon.” you cry out holding him tightly. “I’m-I, please,” your pleasure continues to wash through you as his pumps slow. 

“You did so good.” he hums, rocking into you once more. You peel your eyes open and look up at him as he presses into you slowly. “Taking me so well.” a small whine comes from you at his words. “Hugging my cock so tightly.” he presses his forehead against yours. 

“More.” the word barely audible. You jerk your hips up and he smirks, hammering back into you once more. “Thank you,” your small gasps start to come out more high pitched as he snaps into you. “Please,” your body goes taut as waves of pleasure wash through you. 

“Fuck,” Aegon groans, burying his head in your neck as he spills his pleasure into you. You pull his lips down to yours while you both softly rock into each other. He pulls back and watches your face scrunch with pleasure as he keeps rolling his hips into you. “So?” he looks down at you. 

“Hm?” you raise an eyebrow. “Aegon,” you whimper as his hips continue to push into you. 

“You said our marriage depended on my cock. How’d I do?” you blink up at him as you still feel every inch of him buried in you as he chuckles. “Tell me.” he presses his lips to your neck.

“You fucked me so good,” you breathe out and he smiles hearing your soft gasps. “Fuck me again just so I know you can do that more than once.” you smirk as he lifts up and looks down at you with a raised brow. He pulls out of you and flips you over quickly. 

“Oh my sweet wife,” he chuckles, lifting your hips. “That was only the beginning.” he watches you fist the sheets as he slams into you. He leans over you slowly snapping his hips into you listening to your moans. “How does this feel? Hm?” he whispers in your ear as he keeps pushing into you. 

“Aegon,” he chuckles, hearing his name slurred on your tongue. He slows his thrusts and you whine rocking your hips back. 

“I asked how it was, not who was fucking you so thoroughly.” he smiles feeling you squeeze around him tightly. “Tell me.” he snaps into you once before slowly grinding you into the bed. 

“Please,” you arch your ass up into him and gasp when his hand lands on your ass. 

“My little wife, if you don’t answer my question properly I won’t let you come again.” he smiles hearing the frustrated whimper come from you. 

“Feels so good, Aeg.” you pant. “So fucking good. Please, husband.” he kisses your shoulder before lifting up and pounding into you. You whine as his fingers dig into your hips and you feel your high building. 

“I feel you squeezing me so tightly.” he chuckles, moving his hands to dig into the soft flesh of your ass. “Is your little cunny wanting me to fill it again?” he watches your elbows give out as you slide against his sheets with every thrust. He listens to your soft pleas and whines and the second you pulse around him he’s filling you. “I’m never letting you go.” he groans, pulling out of you. 

“I want to do that again.” you pant, turning your head to him as he collapses next to you. 

“I’m nowhere near done for the night.” he turns to you with a lazy grin. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

um do i make a couple more parts to this? yes or yes 

taglist ✍️

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19

[1425fivefive]

On the kinky Tumblr fic wish list, I'd love you forever if you'll write anything with nortrell, specifically 16 or 27 (possibly paired with some 29, if you're open to combinations)

cockwarming (27) for nortrell, set right after 2021 sochi gp while max and lando are living together (from the kink prompt asks)

Lando’s moping around the flat, buried in an oversized sweatshirt, hood pulled up. He barely pays attention when Max speaks to him, just looks at Max with a flat expression and goes back to his phone, probably scrolling through comments about his drive, about how he’d fucked it by not switching to inters at the right time. How it shows he doesn’t have the mentality to fight with the big dogs.

Max sympathizes, he really does. But it’s also fucking infuriating watching Lando beat himself up over it, watching Lando lie on the sofa all day, forget to eat until Max tells him to, only shower if Max shuts him in the bathroom.

When Max walks into the living room on the third day to find Lando curled up on the couch, biting his cuticle and scrolling through Reddit threads about himself, Max can’t take it any longer.

Max walks over and snatches Lando’s phone out of his hands.

“Max,” Lando whines, glaring up at him. “Why’d you do that?”

Max just rolls his eyes and tosses the phone onto an armchair, out of Lando’s reach unless Lando gets off the sofa.

“You need to get out of your head,” Max says. “You’re making it worse.”

“M’not,” Lando grumbles, curling in on himself.

Max doesn’t dignify that with a response. He just takes a seat next to Lando on the sofa, spreading his thighs wide.

Lando’s breath hitches, eyes going wide. But he doesn’t move, stays burrowed up in the cushions, chin tucked into his hoodie.

“Come on,” Max says, nodding to the floor between his legs. “You know what to do.”

Lando lets out a little whimper but he shakes his head. “Don’t need it.”

Max wants to shake him. But he manages to keep his voice gentle as he says, “You do, Bob.”

Lando’s face flushes and he squirms a bit, tugging at the hem of his hoodie. Max’s mouth goes dry as he realizes Lando’s probably already hard, already leaking into the tiny little shorts he insists on wearing around the house.

“Come on,” Max repeats, soft but firm.

Lando whimpers again, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Max thinks Lando will keep fighting him and Max tries to work out what to do next, how to convince Lando that he needs this. But in the end Lando pushes himself up, sliding off the couch and landing in a little heap on the floor.

“Good,” Max murmurs, voice slightly strained, dick firming up in his sweatpants.

Lando doesn’t say anything, just shuffles in between Max’s thighs, staring at Max’s crotch. Max can already see Lando’s brain slowing down, eyes going hazy and blank.

Max always tells himself he does this for Lando, that if Lando didn’t need it Max would stop in a heartbeat. 

But it’d be a lie to say Max has never gotten off to the thought of Lando on his knees, Max’s cock buried in his mouth, his arse. There’s one memory in particular that Max returns to nearly every time he gets himself off. Max had been playing Tarkov in his room and Lando had come in wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie, crawling into Max’s lap without saying a word. Lando had already opened himself up and Max had just tugged his sweatpants down past his dick, tried to bite back a moan at the feeling of Lando working himself on Max’s cock, letting out breathy little pants against Max’s neck. They’d stayed like that for over an hour, Max playing Tarkov while desperately trying to ignore how outrageously tight Lando felt around his cock, the tiny, helpless sounds Lando kept making against his neck.

It’s still the only time they’ve gotten off together, Lando grinding on Max’s dick, rubbing his cock on Max’s t-shirt, spilling all over it with a devastating little whimper. Max had fucked up once, twice and come with a moan, dropping the controller to grip Lando’s arse, hold him down as Max filled him up. They hadn’t used a condom and Max felt like he was floating outside of his body as Lando stood up on shaky legs, a trickle of Max’s come running down the smooth skin of his inner thigh. Max had sort of wanted to lick it off him, but Lando had taken off before he could, leaving Max with nothing but a soiled t-shirt.

Lando whimpers at Max’s feet, pulling Max back to the present, to the sight of Lando blinking up at him with wide, wet eyes.

Max nods down at his sweatpants. “Can you get them off or do you need me to help you?”

“Help me,” Lando whispers.

“God, you’re useless,” Max says, but he can hear the fondness in his voice as he shoves his sweatpants and boxers down freeing his cock.

Lando’s mouth drops open and Max slides a hand into Lando’s hair, dragging Lando forward. Lando lets himself be dragged, easy as anything.

“Come on,” Max murmurs, choking back a whine as Lando wraps his lips around Max’s cock. “There you go.”

Lando sinks down with a moan, jaw relaxing, eyes sliding half-shut.

Lando’s mouth is absurdly good, soft and warm and wet, and Max has to breathe through his nose to keep from coming immediately. Has to remind himself that’s not what this is about.

Max ends up putting footy on the telly, barely paying attention as Lando drools around his cock, letting out small, pleased noises. Max wonders if Lando knows he’s doing it. Reckons he probably doesn’t or he’d stop.

By halftime, Lando’s shifting a bit on the floor and he lets out a whimper that sounds more pained than pleased.

“Alright?” Max asks.

Lando garbles something around his cock, something that sounds vaguely like knees.

“Sorry,” Max says, chest aching at the thought of Lando being uncomfortable. He tips forward, dropping a pillow next to Lando, poking it into place with his foot.

Lando makes a relieved noise, face going slack, drool slipping from the corners of his mouth onto Max’s cock.

“Jesus,” Max murmurs, carding his hands through Lando’s hair. “You really needed it, didn’t you?”

Lando doesn’t say anything, but he lets out a long, high whine, looking up at Max with desperate eyes.

“That’s right,” Max breathes. “You need me.”

Lando makes a low, gut-punched noise and takes Max a little bit deeper.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Epilogue

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 1.3K

TWs: Just a little dirty talk really.

A/N: Well, this is the end! Thanks to everyone who has interacted with this fic - it was a labour of love and I have cherished every single comment, reblog and message 💕

When Tegan wakes the next morning she feels the events of the night before in her body before she remembers them. As they start to come back to her, slowly at first and then more and more rapidly she feels a smile spreading across her face. She’d enjoyed last night. A lot. She rolls over to find Elvis already sat up in bed, reading. Groaning and stretching, she tries to wake herself up properly. It’d been really late when Jerry had finally left their bed for his own; they’d spent hours talking together about all sorts of things. 

“Mornin’ sunshine.”

Elvis closes the book and puts it down on the bedside table, looking at his girlfriend as she peers back through half-open eyes. 

“Mmmm. ‘Raur.”

“How ya feelin’?”

She closes one eye and squints at him through the other. “Thoroughly fucked.”

That earns her a belly laugh, one of her absolute favourite Elvis reactions. “Well that’s coz ya were, baby.”

She closes both eyes and puts her face in her hands, giggling. “I loved it,” she admits, still hiding. 

“Hmmm. Well it was a damn good Christmas gift, considerin’ ya didn’t even know Jerry was comin’ until the night before.”

She looks up, cautiously. “You think I’m a slut, for doing that? I only just met the guy…”

Elvis shakes his head, leaning down to kiss the top of hers. “Baby, I used ta fuck a different girl every night on some tours. Met ‘em, liked ‘em, made ‘em cum. Plus I know ya only jus’ met ‘im, but Jerry’s been my best friend fer years.”

Tegan thinks about this as she slowly sits up. “You ever do this with Stella?”

He blinks in surprise. “Uh… no.”

“Oh.”

“I uh… she wanted the picket fence life.”

She shifts to lean against him. “What kind of life do you want?”

“One with you in it, honey.”

She smiles against his pyjama top. “Me too.”

“But, uh, not one with Jerry… y’know…”

“I’m not sure I do know.”

Elvis sighs. “Yer makin’ me say it, again.”

“I mean, last night you told me you and Jerry used to take it in turns to fuck women you met on tour. And now you’re going all shy again?”

“I was a little drunk last night, darlin’.”

Tegan looks up at his face from her position with her head against his shoulder. “What’re you trying to say, ‘raur? Spit it out.”

Another deep sigh. “Last night was fun. But I don’t want Jerry as a permanent fixture in our bedroom.”

Tegan raises an eyebrow. 

“I don’t want him fuckin’ ya all the time!” Elvis snaps, exasperated. “Yer mine. I don’t mind if he borrows ya, under supervision… on special occasions y’know. But not…” he sighs again and waves a finger around in a circle. “This… ain’t a thing.”

Tegan smiles at his possessiveness. She feels like she ought to be offended by him talking about her like she’s a rare library book, but instead it makes her feel all warm inside. 

“I enjoyed last night a lot,” she begins, wrapping her arm around him. “I’m glad we did it. And if you and Jerry want to do it again before he leaves, then I’d be down. But I don’t want anything more than that. One boyfriend is enough.”

It’s Elvis’ turn to raise an eyebrow. “Ya wanna do it again?”

She giggles into his shoulder. “Mmm. Yeah.”

“Well, we’ll see about that, little girl…”

***

Elvis, Tegan and Jerry have fun together again more than once, but after Elvis’ massive New Year’s Eve party Jerry goes back to LA, and although they both miss him they’re glad to be back to just the two of them for a while. They get professional photos taken of the two of them with Coffi, and the best one - where they have forgotten the camera and are just staring into one another’s eyes, giggling over some shared joke or other - hangs with the other family shots on the wall in the living room of Graceland. They share their time between the mansion and the apartment, and despite Elvis’ best attempts to persuade her to give it up, Tegan continues working at the recording studio, though she drops down to three days a week as a compromise. She finally takes her grading seriously, and by the end of the year she’s a purple belt. Elvis is proud of her, but he still thinks she could practise more at home. 

He travels less for work now, feeling content staying in Memphis for months at a time. There are still times when he has to pay one of the studios on the other side of the country a visit, and Tegan can’t always take time off work to go with him. He misses her like crazy, but she’s secretly a little relieved to have time to herself, though of course she doesn’t tell him that. 

One day after a trip to Kansas, he presents her with a big box with a pink bow on the outside. 

“Jus’ somethin’ for ya for next time I’m away.”

Tegan’s mind boggles at the possibilities, but nothing she thinks of is what she eventually finds in the box. 

“It’s…a bear?”

“Squeeze ‘im.”

Tegan puts both hands around the middle of the teddy and squeezes.

“Daddy misses ya, Tegan bach.” The teddy bear says, in Elvis’ unmistakable drawl. 

Tegan squeals, then giggles, then squeezes it again to see if it does the same thing, which it does. 

“He’s from build-a-bear,” Elvis explains. “Got ‘im from the second store in the country. Ya make ‘im yerself, put a little heart in him…” he smiles, bashfully. “...an’ ya can record a little thing for ‘im ta say. Got them ta open the store in the middle of the night fer me so I didn’t get papped doin’ it.”

“Aww ‘raur!” Tegan throws an arm around Elvis’ neck, cuddling him close and holding the bear out to the side slightly to avoid squashing him. “He’s adorable. You’re adorable.”

“Glad ya like ‘im, honey.”

They pull apart and she looks down at the bear again. “He needs a name.”

Elvis’ arm slips around her waist and he presses his lips to her ear. “Why don’tcha call ‘im Elvis?”

Tegan pushes on his chest, laughing. “Don’t be filthy now! This is a nice, cute bear!”

“Me? Filthy? I don’t know whatcha mean, Queenie.”

He’s desperately trying to keep a straight face, but Tegan can see his eyes shining with amusement. 

“You’re giving me a bear to keep me company when you’re away, and you want me to name him Elvis?” Her eyebrow is raised and her hand is on her hip, but she’s struggling to keep from laughing, too. 

“Uh huh. Ya can cuddle up ta him in bed when I’m not there.”

“Right, right, yeah of course. That’s all you meant.”

“Sure.” His lip is quivering at this point, as he tries desperately not to grin. “I mean I wouldn’t want ta get between a girl an’ her bear, and whatever else she might wanna do with him when she’s missin’ me…”

“Elvis Presley.” Tegan uses her best school teacherish tone, but eventually the pressure of trying not to laugh gets to be too much and they both burst into peals of laughter. 

“What?!”

She hits him with the bear, inadvertently making the voice go off and their hysterics even worse. 

“Hey, you’ll hurt ‘im!”

“I’ll hurt you in a minute!”

They keep giggling as Elvis pulls her in close, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“Yer always makin’ me laugh, little darlin’,” he breathes. “‘M glad I came ta teach that karate class.”

“I’m glad too, ‘raur.”

“Don't know what I'd do without ya, Queenie.”

She smirks. “Well I can get you your own bear if you really want…”

***

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy

[karl-von-moor-official]

Um das mal ein für allemal zu klären:

Bitte, wir müssen das klären. Ich bin sonst noch ewig mit meiner Mitbewohnerin auf dem Kriegsfuß deswegen.

[tumbwr]

my apologies if this has already been posted here but im sharing this. here is what someone said on twitter along w this image:

the central image text reads: “@everyone I I have been reliably informed guardian journalists are snooping around asking for trans people to talk to them about diy hrt. They are particularly looking for under-18s doing diy. Shouldn't need to be said, but do. Not. Engage. Spread widely. Do not engage. We need this notice spread out via every grassroots support group and social circle in the country.

Urgent. If they get even one to take part it becomes a national conversation. Top alert.

(@accessible-tumbling Thank you for the accessible text)

Guardian journos are apparently asking trans people about DIY. Trans followers: DO NOT SAY ANYTHING TO THEM. NOT A WORD.

I also know I’ve got cis mutuals who have written for the Guardian. Please know I’ve always thought less of you because of that.

- https://x.com/TownTattle/status/1781045092049928551

[falesten-iw]

When I first joined Tumblr, I had no idea what I was walking into. There’s no manual for navigating this wild, untamed corner of the internet. My first moment here? I was greeted by an image completely naked, no warning, no explanation. It was just there, bold and unapologetic. That’s when I realized: Tumblr is a place where anything can happen.

But for all its chaos, Tumblr has become something far greater than I ever expected. For us Palestinians, this platform isn’t just a space to scroll through memes or vent about life. It’s a lifeline, a place where we’ve taken the raw, messy energy of this site and turned it into a battleground for survival. Here, we tell our stories, raise funds, and fight for our lives.

I’ve seen campaigns soar past their goals, bringing hope to families barely holding on. But I’ve also seen campaigns like mine, ones that fight tooth and nail for every single dollar, every reblog, every addition, and every ounce of hope. My family’s lives depend on this.

It hasn’t been easy. Zionists flood all Palestinian words with hate, twisting truths and spreading lies. They aim to discredit us, to make people doubt us. It’s exhausting. Some nights, I sit with my phone in my hands, wondering if this fight is too big for me. But then something beautiful happens: a donation comes through, a kind message appears, or someone I’ve never met reblogs my story with words that feel like a warm embrace.

And through it all, people are starting to see the truth. The hate doesn’t drown us; it sharpens our voices. Every day, more people step forward to stand with us, to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I’m with you.” It’s those moments that keep me going.

To everyone who has already helped, whether through verification, donating, wrting post , reblogging, or simply sharing a kind word: thank you. You’ve done more for my family than I could ever put into words. But the reality is, we’re not there yet. My family is still waiting for a chance to breathe, to live without fear, to fill their empty stomachs with warm food, and to wrap themselves in clothes thick enough to keep out the bitter cold. They’re hungry, they’re freezing, and I can’t do this alone.

This fight is hard, but it’s not hopeless. Strangers have become friends, and friends have become family. Some of you have shown up in ways I never imagined, treating my family’s survival as if it were your own. That kind of solidarity? It’s powerful.

Tumblr might be chaotic, unpredictable, and sometimes downright bizarre, but it’s also the place where we’ve built something extraordinary: a community that refuses to look away from injustice. With your help, we can take this fight all the way. My family’s lives are within reach, and together, I know we’ll get there.

This campaign isn’t just about me. It supports 26 people, including two orphaned children and an injured family member suffering from hemiplegia after being hit by shrapnel during a bombing. Surgery is desperately needed to replace the infected and failing plates. The needs are urgent, and the future of 26 lives depends on your support.

The video showing the injured family member is shared before in this post: Link.

Please help us ! Donate and reblog this post to spread our story.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead. Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 100 SEK is equivalent to 10 dollars, and 200 SEK equals 20 dollars and so on.

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe

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[kurooh]

FILL ME UP ! — BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

⊹₊˚. he thinks you look so pretty with his cum dripping from your pussy.

⟡ feat. aged up! midoriya izuku, bakugō katsuki, kirishima eijirou, dabi, takami keigo.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, oral [f receiving], cum eating.

⟡ xoxo, juno: i’m sorry this is so short ): the past 72 hours have been horrible hahah

— MIDORIYA IZUKU.

unsurprisingly, he wants to get you pregnant someday; he cums the hardest whenever he thinks about filling you up with his cum and picturing your swollen belly.

“ah, baby, i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum— fuck! where do you want it?” izuku stutters, hips jerking wildly as pleasure zaps through him like lightning.

“inside, ‘zuku..”

“a-are you sure?” his voice rises in surprise and he doesn’t know where to put his hands when you thrust your ass into his pelvis. your eyes are hooded when you turn, tossing him a look over your shoulder that has him spilling inside of you with a desperate whine.

izuku cums so much that it starts to run down the length of his cock, so he collects the excess on his fingers before rubbing his sticky fingers against your clit.

you moan lowly, “fuck it deep, izu.”

with a shaky nod and a tight grip on your hips, he complies, thrusting into you hard. despite having cum already, he feels his cock throb, eager to fill you up again.

“can i cum again, please? need to fill you up!”

— BAKUGŌ KATSUKI.

he fills you up because he has a possession kink.. in his mind, cumming inside you makes you his. he’ll take photos/videos of you dripping with his cum and jerk off to it later.

“s-shit, your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight,” katsuki grits out, pressing into the backs of your thighs to make the mating press a little closer. your ankles rest on his shoulders, feet dangling, gold anklet with a ‘k’ he gave you catching the afternoon light through the window.

you grin up to him, before pleasure washes over your whole body and your face falls as you moan. “go ahead and fill it up, kat.. i need it so badly.”

“shit, you’re not on the pill.” crimson eyes are full of worry and thoughtfulness.

“i don’t fucking care,” you groan, your eyes rolling back when the tip of his cock presses deep inside you, in just the right place.

katsuki doesn’t doubt you, or object — after all, he wants to fill you up. but why are his balls clenching at your words, his cock spilling cum deep inside you so quickly?

you feel his cock tighten inside you before heat is gushing all over you, sending you right into your own orgasm. he pulls back to stare, watching wide eyed as his cum drips out of your fluttering hole.

“fuck, you’re so good. i’ll never be able to pull out again, god.”

— KIRISHIMA EIJIROU.

he loves to make you as messy as possible, and then he’ll lick it all up.

“mmmh, ‘m still sensitive eiji..” your words come out as a soft mewl as your boyfriend spreads your legs open eagerly.

“wanna taste,” eijirou mumbles, eyes hooded as he notices your hole clench on nothing as he licks smeared cum off your thigh. “i also wanna make you cum again, yeah?”

“y-yeah,” you stutter when he drags his tongue along the sides of your pussy, collecting your squirt and his own cum on his tongue. eijirou swallows, kissing your clit with a quiet moan before he’s licking a stripe between your folds.

when he hears you whimper at the light touch, he fights off a smile and dips his tongue inside you easily. he tastes the bitterness of his own cum and the sweetness of your slick, and lets out a groan as his cock throbs against the bed beneath him.

“god.. ‘s good.” he doesn’t hesitate to pull back, pressing his tongue flat against your clit. then he slides his fingers into you, looking up at you eagerly. eijirou’s eyes meet yours, and he grins at just how shy you look.

“don’t worry baby, i’m gonna make you squirt again, yeah? focus on me.”

— DABI [TODOROKI TŌYA].

whenever tōya’s feeling jealous, he fills you up and makes you cry.. sometimes he likes to fuck you on top of a building or in an alleyway during pro-hero hawks’ patrols.

“you gotta scream for me, doll,” tōya hisses before biting into your shoulder while his grip on your neck gets tighter.

face burning with horniness and head spinning, you let out a long whine, and it echoes in the secluded alleyway. “fill me up and make me yours, tōya!”

he ignores the rustle of feathers from above, and only fucks into you harder. a thin sheen of sweat gleams on the darkened skin of his chest, the staples shining even more in the light.

tōya thinks you look beautiful like this, back against the wall and oh so pliant — letting him bounce you on his cock, or fuck your hole until all you can slur out is his name.

“louder. let the whole city know who’s fuckin’ you, doll.”

— TAKAMI KEIGO.

though he’s human, his bird-like quirk influences so much about him, such as his food choices, interests, and the way he likes to fuck.

vermillion wings rustle beneath you as you ride keigo’s cock into oblivion. his head is thrown back, golden tufts spread out on the car seat around it; above, your holding down both of his wrists tightly.

“lemme touch you, dove, come onnn.”

“no,” you gasp after a particularly deep stroke, “you’re just g-gonna bounce me up ‘nd down, and i want to ride you.”

your eyes close tightly as you languidly drag yourself up and down, pussy squeezing him so tight he feels like he’s about to burst. slowly, he feels himself thicken, approaching his high.

it’s as if a switch is flipped.

without even holding your hips and waist, keigo slams his hips upwards into you, stretching out your pussy almost mercilessly.

“keigo! that’s not— fuck!” your voice breaks off into a gasp, tits bouncing as he fucks you hard.

“g-gotta fill you up, dove.” his golden eyes are dark, swirling with some kind of breeding instinct. his wings are fluttering now, beating the air so strongly that goosebumps rise on your skin.

keigo’s entire body lurches beneath you as he chokes out a groan, “nghhh— i’m cumming, shit..”

his cock spills inside of you, effectively filling you up. however, he makes no move to pull out. when you start to sit up, he stops you.

“mm mm. let’s let it sit for a while, ‘nd i’ll stay inside, alright?”

[makismei]

in the same universe as this :,) cw: toy usage, hint of brat taming, hints of sadism & machoism, 18+ content, overstim, dubious consent, soft :(

“you’re doing it again,” he deadpans, knocking your thighs open, “keep. them. open.”

pearly slick oozes from your cunt, soiling the newly washed sheets and sticking to your inner thighs. toji sits in front of you, a blank look on his face but you know how he’s truly feeling from his eyes.

lidded and intently focused on your poor, leaky cunt, he mindlessly goes through a small box on the bed, feeling around for what feels interesting.

it’s your box of sex toys. the ones you used before you started dating the man in front of you. it’s been a while since you’ve reached for them, since it feels like toji knows your body wayyy more than you do, and also because he gets you there, he doesn’t let you escape until you’ve gone brainless from all the orgasms he’s blessed you with. why would you ever need to do the work again?

but toji isn’t all too familiar with adult toys. of course, he knows about the basics—dildos and vibrators, but when he accidentally stumbled upon this little treasure box of yours (his own words), curiosity took over him. he’s never seen pieces of silicone and plastic look so lewd, and the look on your face was so precious, he just had to try them.

“hmm,” lowly, he calls your name, “what’s this?”

heavy eyelids blink open, registering what’s in his hand before you shoot up, attempting to scurry away but your bed isn’t that big and his reflexes are out of this world—

“that’s a reaction,” he grins, eyeing the small red toy, shaped like a flower. “you used this one a lot?”

you shake your head, cheeks burning and eyes welling up with tears. crocodile tears, toji raises a brow, beckoning you to continue.

“‘s too much, it..” you trail off, breaking your gaze, but his hand guides you back, gently thumbing your cheek.

“you’re in control baby,” he whispers, “i won’t do anything you don’t want, you know that.”

of course you know, that’s why you let him do whatever the hell he wants with you. and frankly, him using that cursed little rose toy is making you more excited than you thought.

“it… made me squirt for the first time…” you squeak, speeding up with each word spoken, “i only used it a few times because the first setting was already too m—hold on, waitwaitwait—”

“this?” he drags you back, spreading your legs to make room for himself, “m’ gonna have fun with this.”

“toji,” you weep, anticipating, and he knows, a soothing hand caressing your thighs and waist, “m’ nervous.”

and toji knows he’s sick and utterly deplorable, because your reaction is turning him on. he’s excited, out of the few he’s tested already and the others yet to come, he has an inkling of a feeling that this one will be his favourite.

“s’ okay,” he coos, “what’s your word, gorgeous?”

“ginza…” the city you met him in. a little corny, but it works.

he hums, smiling. “you ready?”

you nod, shyly looking up before correcting yourself, “yes.. m’ ready.”

it doesn’t take him long at all to figure out the buttons. there’s only two after all, the power button and the other one that controls the settings.

the buzz makes you tense up, but you relax slightly under your boyfriend’s loving touch.

he spreads your lower lips with a thumb and pointer finger, whistling lowly. he lazily collects your juices, smearing it over your clit.

with bated breaths, you let out a quiet cry when the suction latches onto your swollen clit. back arching almost immediately, toji’s shocked by your reaction. he grins, amused. cute, he thinks, watching you drool and squeal.

you’re surprisingly still, muscles tense and lost hands trying to find purpose.

would it be too much if he started fingering you?

you let out a long wail, head jolting to look down at him. he’s smirking, pleased with your shocked expression.

but he’ll be nice, for now, only sliding in one finger as he eyes your reaction.

it hasn’t even been long, maybe just over two minutes, but by the telltale squeeze of your cunt on his finger he knows you’re cumming.

“already?” he laughs, crooking his finger just right, “no way.”

“i—i told yooouuuu!” you’re absolutely gone when he presses against that little spot inside of you, screeching as your body locks up. toji feels his finger being pushed out, a stream of liquid following, splashing lewdly from your cunt.

and god, just at the sight of you, the sounds you’re making—he’s about to lose it. but he grits his teeth, using a free hand to quickly hold himself off.

he takes the toy away, turning it off, but still stimulating you with his thumb. your body starts quivering from all the pleasure and it’s been a while since he’s seen you cum like that; he worries for a moment that he pushed you too hard.

but he lets you ride it out, quiet sobs of pleasure filling the room. your head is turned to the side, shaking hands covering your face. he praises you softly, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to the inner side of your knee.

when he sees you’ve calmed down, he gently moves your hands away, pressing a kiss to your tear soaked cheeks, both sides, before kissing you deeply. you moan, throwing your arms over his shoulders.

when he pulls away, he cradles your face in his hands. “how was that?”

it feels like a fire ignites beneath your skin, his stare rapt and focused only on you.

your eyes shift away, meek and ashamed, “i liked it…”

“don’t get all shy with me doll,” he grouses, “i gotta know how you feel.”

your hips are still twitchy, eyes glazed over. “toji,” you whine softly, tears pooling in your eyes yet again and this time he’s actually worried. “m’ not lying… it felt so good, but i’m really embarrassed.”

“baby,” he coos, chastely kissing your lips, “s’ okay, s’ nothing you need to be embarrassed about.”

he turns you both over, so you’re laying on his chest. you listen to the sound of his heartbeat, steady and true. the warmth of his body is soothing, his fingers tapping up and down your spine.

“toji,” you call, meek and unsure. he hums.

“i love you,” you mutter, raising your head, “i know we don’t say it a lot, b-but—”

he smiles, all the way from his lips to his eyes. his entire face lights up, “if i knew making you cum real hard makes you a softy—ow! okay! don’t bite me!”

he’s laughing, hand brushing the hair from your face. “i love you. more than you’ll never know, doll.”

it’s resolute, he’s so unashamed that it’s annoying.

you grumble, hiding your face in his chest. your breath stutters when you feel his cock poke your leg.

“sorry,” he chuckles, “he likes you.”

“shut up,” you mumble, hand reaching back. it’s searingly hot and heavy in your hand. you can feel one of his veins pulsing under your touch.

“sweets,” he panics, “s’ okay, jus’ leave it… holy shiitttt..”

you whine, thighs quivering at the feeling of his leaky tip pressing against your slit.

“tojiii,” you drool, looking up at him, “i want it.”

he rubs a hand over his reddening face, unsure. need is taking over him, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold back. “baby, can you handle it?”

you nod, “yes, yes please,” you call his name, drawn out and needy and fuck, he’d be a shit boyfriend if he doesn’t give his lady what she wants right?

[eowynstwin]

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

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