#crimsonwrites

[crimsonvictory]

repent

just a lil angst. switched it up a bit.

tw: mentions of panic attacks, PTSD, nightmares, small mentions of combat, self-loathing, religious trauma, childhood abuse, suicidal ideations

simon believed that he was cursed the moment he turned earthside. something was wrong with him. not an ounce of benevolence within his vessel. teeth always bared sharp, ready for a fight. had made peace with clawing his way out of the grave that slowly unearthing beneath his feet.

his faith was feeble, a shaky foundation that was revisited every once in awhile when the caress of death lured him in. growing up catholic, his conviction was strong. beat into him until he bent, allowed resurrection to seep into the cracks of his wounded body. it was used as a comfort, something he wasn't nourished with as a child.

he was forced to recite verses until his lips cracked and bled. knelt in the living room on frozen peas, knees aching for relief. the old testament was his favorite. god was relentless, and merciless, just like he. his mother knew there was something evil within him. she had been acquainted before - when she married his father. his father had struggled, and lost. let the darkness consume him. became a vile creature, fingers itching to snuff out any sliver of joy.

joy was to be hidden. never a sight nor sound allowed to even echo in that house. that god-forsaken house. simon had escaped. by the grace of god or whoever, he fled as soon as he was able to. something deep inside missed the familiarity though. a routine, drilled into his skull, slowly unraveled and left him wandering aimless in the metaphorical wilderness.

he found solitude in the army. found comfort again in being told what to do. was able to quiet the chatter in his brain. didn't have to think, just kept his nose down and did what he was told. that's what he did best. the darkness inside him rested well after a bloody day. fingers stained crimson, chest heaving in the metallic scent of life withering away. enjoyed watching the last flicker before the eyes went blank, vacant. lucky bastards. each and every one.

simon longed to switch places. tired of fighting. would pray when it got too malicious. prayed for forgiveness, hot tears burning his eyes. choking on the sobs - heavy, aching and wet in his chest. price saw the turmoil within him. gave him his first safe space to just- be. approached him as if he were a wild dog - which he was. had him kneel, the motion flashing simon back to the hard wooden hearth. nearly moaned in relief, familiarity. placed the dark balaclava over his eyes and waited. watched as simon’s breathing slowed, the trembling in his fingers subsided.

one of his first known panic attacks. price had tutted softly, placed a heavy hand on simon’s head.

“better?” he had asked.

simon was nodding before he even realized, arching into price’s touch like the dog he was. he had pet the side of his head a few times.

“‘re alright,” price grumbled, voice soft.

let him stay there until the darkness released its hold on him. leaving him weak in the knees. it became a routine - when it became unbearable again, simon knew where to go, loyal feet leading him to price’s office floor to rest his weary body.

it got easier. for awhile. simon was able to finally breathe, his lungs able to expand and get a full breath of air. it was so unfamiliar - and simon doubted. it had to be a mistake. men like him weren't allowed reprieve. he relapsed about four years later. when he was promoted to lieutenant. couldn't be responsible for others’ when he didn't want to be responsible for himself. went into battle ready to die. wanting to die. it had changed. everything had changed. he had others to look out for now.

he did it well. made sure his team got out alive every single mission. slowly started to take pride and immense guilt into the new role he was molded into. it was two sides to the same coin. a feeling in his stomach that pulled the same way it did all those years ago. the taut clench of his nerves, breath quickening, palms sweating as he took blow after blow from his father’s hand.

the sharp strike of a flat palm against his face forcing him to inhale through gritted teeth. blood dripping down his nose and staining his teeth crimson. not realizing he was laughing until his father had him flat on his back, writhing as unavoidable joy bubbled up and over his lips - begging for him to finish it.

he was never lucky enough. always left on the precipice, forced to pull himself back up, repent for his sins, lips against the splintered floor as he spoke his prayers.

when you came along, Simon knew this had to be a sick game with god. someone as soft, knowing, and sure as you shouldn't step within a lifetime of him. were you being punished too?

you were patient. kind. the complete opposite of what simon knew. never raised your voice. always compassionate and understanding of his flaws. he hated you at first. he would later repent, spending hours praising your soft skin under the guise of night.

slowly, you broke him down. mending to his broken body - a servant of empathy. the incident that allowed you inside - wound up with you finding him in your hall closet, bathroom towels, cleaning supplies, and other necessities strewn out on the floor - an attempt to get somewhere small and make himself a part of it. a conglomerate of PTSD nightmares interlaced with a nasty panic attack. it had scared you, not knowing what to do. you'd never seen simon like this before. the wild, faraway look in his eyes - it broke your heart.

simon was kneeling, frozen peas under his knees, muttering verses with his face pressed into the carpeted floor - too soft for a wretched thing like him. it took you nearly 40 minutes to bring him back to you, slowly coaxing him back from wherever he was. you hadn't known price’s trick at the time.

another 25 minutes to get him out of the closet. his body had taken over, brain fogged with panic. didn't even realize what he had done. it was embarrassing on his part - he hadn't done a good enough job of keeping you away from this unfortunate side of him. he had lost control of the ugly side of himself - letting it crescendo up into an unmanageable wave of panic.

his self-soothing techniques he had learned in the years of being in the field had not been able to ground him back down, the wave already lapping at the base of his neck. he was going under, whether he liked it or not. he didn't. never did. despised the bloody feeling. the feeling of not being able to get a good lungful of air, the uncontrollable trembling, the pins and needles in his extremities, and worst of all - the ingrained guilt coming back up for a vengeance.

his balaclava wasn't able to be found in time, at least not to his panicked state. he did grab something cold - peas and placed them in the familiar groove of his knees. pain and pleasure mixing into a somewhat soothing fix.

all he remembers is the mission going sideways, not being able to get to anyone in time. Gaz, Price, Soap - all MIA. and for whatever reason, you were here too - his worst fucking nightmare. his sweet dollface, in the ugly throws of battle. somewhere you should never be. the pained look in your eyes, sweat dripping down your forehead, and the blood. where did that come from?

your face turned white, shock making your lips fall open in a gasp - but no sound comes out. simon looks down and his stomach turns. you're bleeding out - multiple exit wounds staining your pretty skin crimson.

he had called out your name, his own voice faint in his ears. reached a hand out to try and stop the bleeding. he was too late, unable to prevent the nightmare from unfolding.

"simon." you had croaked.

tears blurring his vision, he can't get them to clear. he can't see you anymore. where were you? his teeth gritting in desperation, looking for you blindly, reaching out on some thin ounce of faith that you were still there. god please.

"simon." his name again, softly called. the voice sounds familiar, but he can't pinpoint as to where it's coming from.

maybe his time was coming. he begged. begged for someone to put him out of this hell. he didn't want to be a part of it anymore. what was he doing? where was he? where were you? oh right. dead. dead. dead.

"simon!" the shrillness of your voice startles him.

he's not in combat. he's somewhere dark, small - a peak of light coming in. he finally takes a deep breath, just realizing he had been holding his own. feeling his lungs gulp as much air as he could - reminding himself to slowly pull in, not too fast. feels the grounding pain of the peas digging into his knees. his face pressed into the floor, the spot between his eyebrows aching with how hard he had pushed. he slowly lifts up, his vision comes to and there you are. soft light haloing around your head, just barely visible to him from where he is.

maybe he did make it to heaven after all.

simon's brows furrow - confusion etching its way onto his scarred face. your small hand is resting on your ankle, thumb circling absentmindedly on the skin. his gaze finally falls on your sweet face, red and puffy with tears still falling down the curve of your cheek.

he’s as still as a statue - not wanting to startle you. the sudden change in his breathing alerting you that he was conscious now. your lip trembling with uncertainty, you pull away from him - evident fear on your face. his chest clenches, the inevitable happening - him losing you to himself.

"christ," he croaks, voice dry.

your eyes flick up to meet his own, pupils blown wide with adrenaline.

"I couldn't get to you," you mumble.

the confusion on simon's face makes you angry. your brow furrows in thought, mouth pulled in a tight line. he hates seeing such an ugly emotion on your face. something he caused. you huff through your nose, shaking fingers coming upwards to push your hair back from your face.

"I couldn't get to you, simon. It took me forty minutes."

"price usually puts somethin’ over my eyes," he sputters, tongue heavy as he tries to get his words out.

your brows furrow again before standing up, releasing another huff of air. simon’s panicking again, you're leaving. he's shown too much. he squeezes his hands into tight fists in an attempt to control his breathing. fuck fuck fuck-

you're back a moment later, kneeling in front of him and placing something soft over his eyes. he nearly wails in relief, biting back the trembling of his lips.

“breathe,” you instruct.

he focuses on your voice, letting out a shuttering breath. sobs threaten to strangle his throat, causing it to tighten up.

“you're safe.” you say.

simon reaches a large hand to place on your shoulder, squeezing tightly.

"breathe." a reminder.

simon sits stunned, silent and perplexed that you're handling this so well. sweat drips down his back, cooling as the adrenaline slowly unfurls from his body.

"m'sorry," he murmurs.

you're pulled close against his chest. simon's soaked with sweat. his large arms wrap around your waist as he burrows his face into the crook of your neck.

"i though' i had a hold of it. losin' you is my worse nightmare. tha's what i was havin'. a nightmare. about you," he explains.

you sniffle, chest squeezing at his words.

"never had someone to care for. or about for tha' matter," he murmurs, soft words leeching into your skin. "you're my everythin'."

"si-," you start.

He shushes you, rubbing soft circles over your sleep shirt.

"'m sorry." he says, again and again - placing soft kisses on your skin.

repenting to you, his one and only. he hopes you can forgive him. a wretched thing - not worthy of your kindness. wetness pools at your collarbone and you realize that he's crying, shoulders shaking with the effort to keep himself quiet.

"oh, simon," you choke out, squeezing him tight. "you've gotta talk to me. that's what i'm here for."

he stays silent for a few moments, processing your words. let's your touch soothe his tired body. the soft rise and fall of your chest comforting his worried mind.

"i'm so sorry," you whisper. "i didn't mean to yell. i was just worried. i love you, y'know?"

a tight squeeze lets you know. he knows.

edit: updated a bit more and went a different route!

[nitewingbabi]

↳ a pretty mouth             ⚤ ghostface x female!reader  【 18+ ONLY — Minors DNI 】 warnings ⇢ drinking, sexting, knife play, fingering, oral (m receiving), swearing, orgasm denial, pinning, mentions of blood/killing, degrading,  ✉ taking requests first part  ▻  please respond…i showed you my cock

It had been days since any kind of attack or sign of ghostface. You almost believed he had disappeared, but it was still in the back of your mind. You never responded to his messages that he sent, and he never came to see you. Not that you really wanted him too. 

He was psycho. But there was something about his voice and not knowing who was behind that mask that just made your stomach flip the right way round. 

You had multiple missed phone calls from a private or blocked number. You had the upper hand for once.

➤ you can’t ignore me ➤ i’m not going to stop  ➤ you can try to shut me out, but i’ll find a way to get back in ➤ and when I do, i’m going to bury myself in that sweet pussy

His texts turned you on the more he sent them. All laced with dirty things you tried not to enjoy. 

Clearly you needed to give him something to make him chase you harder. Your parents would start to get suspicious of the large water bills coming through, and the last thing you wanted to give up was your shower head time every night. You felt possessed almost, turning yourself on as you dreamt of him climbing through your window of the night, holding a knife to your throat as he fucked you in ways you haven’t experienced before. 

Your legs began to rub to get friction, you needed to stop putting these thoughts in your head. He was a serial killer. The last thing you needed was to be fucking the town’s killer who had threatened your life countless times as well. 

When you finished school you went over to your friend’s house to get ready for a party that was happening over the weekend. All day you had multiple messages from him. Nothing new, that was until. 

🟪 Gfce23 sent you a snap 

The purple box told you everything you needed to know. It was video, with audio. You excused yourself from her room, heading into the bathroom. Opening the video it was once again his cock in his gloved hand, his body more in view this time for you to get a better look. Eyeing over his pale skin. 

“Ughnf—this is all for you.” Your clit throbbed at the sudden moaning that came from your phone. Walls tightening at his words. ‘This is all for you’. You licked your lips at the sight of the red tipped cock on your screen that thrusted into his leather glove. 

“F-f-fuck y/n.” Hearing him say your name mixed with a whimper as he pumped himself, stomach flexing every time he gasped and his movements picked up just a little more. You found yourself with your fingers dancing between your legs again, toying with yourself. The video ended there. No big finish for you. Your flustered state calmed down when you returned to reality and remembered where you were. 

“Jesus, fuck!” You hissed, running fingers through your hair as you tried to finish getting ready. You knew it was wrong but you couldn’t help lusting after him. Evening came finally and it was time to get drunk and enjoy your weekend. No school, no studying, no homework. Just alcohol and boys. Walking into the house it was already crazy, everyone dancing and rubbing themselves up against each other. 

A few mindless games of spin the bottle, truth or dare, and many more kids games. You found the keg, pouring yourself a drink before feeling a tap on your shoulder. It was the same guy whose been chasing after you since the first grade. 

“Hey y/n, long time no see. Feel like we never talk anymore babe.” You cringed at the pet name he gave you. You liked princess better anyway. 

“That’s because we aren’t even friends, I don’t talk to people who aren’t my friends.” You snipped back, walking away from the over-confident jock that didn’t want to take no for an answer it seemed. You swung your head back and downed the drink in the red solo cup. 

“Look, y/n. Just give me one chance and if you aren’t into it then I’ll leave you alone.” He chased you. But not in a ‘I’m gonna kill you’ way that you for some reason missed. You felt bad that you never did give him the time of day, and the alcohol was already going to your head. So what was one dance? You allowed him to grab your hand and take you to where everyone else was dancing, rolling your hips against him and allowing yourself to just relax. 

It was hard too when you were so sexually frustrated, after what felt like forever of dancing you found your friend. Letting her know you were leaving and going home, she was too busy dancing with a group of guys to care. You thought about walking home but chose to Uber instead. 

It was just up the road but in your tipsy state, in a short skirt and with a killer on the loose? What could go wrong? 

Your parents were once again gone for the night, using the time away to connect and get their marriage back on track. You didn’t turn on the lights, leaving the house dark and making your way upstairs to your room. Opening the door you didn’t know what you were expecting, but seeing it dark and just as you left it was disappointing. You walked over to your vanity, turning on the lamp and eyes looking into the reflective surface. 

Your eyes shot open and you sobered up at the sight of a white mask and dark cloak leaning against your clothing dresser. Your heart began to race and you stood up, turning around to face the masked figure who had been on your mind day and night. 

“Surprise princess.” His familiar voice had you buckling at the knees. You wanted to drop to them and suck the one thing he had been teasing you with the last few times you spoke. 

“Get on the bed. Now.” A sharp piercing feeling was against your leg, looking down you saw the knife he held in his hand against the flesh of your exposed thigh. Hard enough to indent your skin but not to actually pierce you. 

You nodded as you walked backwards, sitting on the soft surface and using your elbows to keep you elevated. Eyes looking into the dark black mesh that hid your mystery killer’s eyes. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see you dancing tonight princess. Open your legs.” You did as you were told and audibly gulped. You never saw ghost face at the party, you wondered where he could have been for him to be able to watch you in such a crowded house. Your thigh was met with a cold, metal against it. His knife slowly dragging up from your knee all the way to the crease where your pubic region met your leg. 

He looked down between your legs, eyeing off the cute short skirt and red panties you had on. The same ones he loved seeing you in when you first tried them on. He let out a low groan before swiftly flicking his wrist so his knife teared at the delicate lace. 

$60, down the drain. But you didn’t care. You just wanted to feel him against you, touching, rubbing, sucking. Your breath hitched as he lowered himself, the mattress dipping on each side of you as he positioned himself between your legs and removed the lacy garment blocking his view. He tilted his head to the side, muttering a ‘fuck’ as he saw your creamy hole gaping. How he wanted to fill it. His leather covered fingers reached out and began to rub at your wet folds, moving the creamy arousal over your clit and labia. Teasing your core with soft, slow touched. You gasped as he dipped a finger into your cunt, a thick ring of cream engulfing his finger as he entered you. 

He began pumping, curling his finger each time to graze against your sensitive walls. You began letting out soft mewls at the sensations in the pit of your stomach. A sensation you had only been able to get from a shower head and your own touch. Without warning, he added another two fingers, thrusting harder and quicker now and watching your hips bucking to meet his every movement. 

“Look at you, this pink pussy is aching to be touched. I’ve barely started and you’re almost unravelling under my fingers. How many can you take before I have you begging for more?” He hissed as he added his thumb to your clit, watching you let out a squealed whimper and jerk your body under his touch. He chuckled darkly at your reactions, watching your fingers grab at the blanket comforter underneath you.

Your orgasm was building quickly and you wanted to let go. But ghostface, had other plans for you. Before you could even mutter a ‘I’m gonna cum’ he removed himself completely. Hearing you almost cry from pain at the loss of pleasure. 

“Oh no, you don’t get to cum yet princess.” You let out a whine at his words, squirming under his arms. He grabbed your wrists, pinning you to the bed and grinding his cock against your core. It was hard and only made you beg for more. 

“I want to hear you say you would’ve been honoured to have been killed by me. That it makes you wet and turned on that I could kill you right here, right now. And no one could stop me.” Excitement mixed with panic filled your stomach as you thought about how he would react if you didn’t say it. 

“It turns me on, that I’m so helpless and weak, that you could kill me right now and no one would help me…or stop you.” You had to admit to yourself sheepishly, that it was erotic. 

“Such a pretty princess, with a pretty pussy. And a pretty mouth. I think we should see how good it feels.” He pulled you to the floor with a loud thud, your wrists hurting from being held in place for so long. He undid the black cloak, the velcro ripping and revealing black jeans. His member pushing against the rough material just dying to get out. 

You decided to unbutton his jeans and pull his dick out. It was just as you remembered, pink, swollen and veiny. His tip ached to be touched, a drip of precum oozing out his slit and and running towards the edge of his head. Your eyes met his mask, his hand came to your head and pushed his member past your lip and into the warm embrace of your mouth. 

He moaned loudly for the first time, and it made you ache all over again. He thrusted his hips, fucking your throat feverishly and throwing his head back in pleasure. Muttering all kinds of vulgar words under his breath at the sensation he had been chasing since the first time he saw you. You gagged and coughed at the sharpness and uncomfortable feeling of him hitting the back of your throat. 

Spittle running down the corners of your lips and chin as he relentlessly unleashed his strength onto you. 

“Fucking take it princess, don’t forget how many people had to die for me to feel your pretty lips around my cock. Take it all. Fucking cock-slut.” His degrading words only sparked you to work his member harder, bobbing your heads in rhythm with him now and swirling your tongue around your mouth in no rhythm at all. He didn’t chase his orgasm, your pussy was his endgame. 

“On the bed and get on your hands and knees.” He growled, annoyed at himself for not reaching his own high. 

“What should I call you?” You asked innocently, big eyes batting at him as you stood to your feet and moved back onto the soft, plush mattress. 

“Call me your master.” You moved onto your hands and knees, feels his gloved hands curl around your ankles and pull your legs further apart, in response you also arched your back even more. 

“This is gonna be fun.” 

[crimson-luna-writes]

My first work for Monsttober 2024! I stayed up til 12am finishing this lol 😭

[lapseinrecs]

Loyalty, Family, and Snarkiness

By CrimsonWriter @rubythecrimsonwriter

On Archive of Our Own

Status: Complete; Oneshot; 3,841 words; 3rd part of Fury’s Stresses series

Summary: Demigods are protective of their own. It's a fact of life. It's not one that Director Fury really appreciates, though. Especially not when there's a Norse demigod in the midst of all of this.

My thoughts: Very tell not showy because it mostly focuses on trying to explain demigods and the mythological world to Fury, but it’s also pretty funny.

[freddie-77-ao3]

fic recs!!! mainly bc @ebony-reine-vibes is getting an ao3 account now and some of these fics really add to my personal headcanon or i reference them a lot

writers (as in i read EVERYTHING they write, adore it all, highkey rec but that would add like. 150 bullet points to this post):

caffienatedflumadiddle,

IzzyMRDB,

WardofWinters,

TheTimeTraveler24,

JustALilSnail,

and

shelfthe_reader

Short fics (under 30k):

Godly Parenting 101 series by Azei,

Thalia Grace's Foolproof Guide To Punching Luke Castellan In The Face by melimarron,

the miscalculations of lightning girl by stopiwanttotalkaboutcheese,

our ceiling is your floor series by mallsthemyth,

faces, voices, memories; by sobremesavpetrichor

The Ghosts Can Sing and They Ache to be Heard by skatefast_eatgrass

i'm the one you tell your fears to; there'll never be enough of us by anthropologys

In the Amber of a Moment by Rynna_Aurelius

War and Death aren't synonyms (but they're not antonyms either) series by miniongrin

fractured chesspieces by nerdling_queen

and

the anatomy of a hurricane by barbarianprincess

medium fics (30-100k)

the darkness of the depths is forgotten in the surf by poisedwalrus

camp counselors au series by buoyantsaturn

trading tomorrow by darkmagyk and loosingletters

Argonauts by RainKiss

Long fics (100-300k)

the grace of the gods is a grace that comes by violence series by californiannostalgia (have to have ao3 to view)

All Together, Cousins by CrimsonWriter

Trade of Trickery by Faeriekit

PJO Arranged Marriage/Royalty AU by Gates_of_Ember

the grace of the gods is a grace that comes by violence series by californiannostalgia (have to have ao3 to view)

All Together, Cousins by CrimsonWriter

Trade of Trickery by Faeriekit

To Preserve Or Raze 'Verse series by FoxyAtlas (again, have ao3 to view)

Extra long fics (over 300k)

august by cordeliarose

constellations series by liketolaugh

so collect your scars and wear them well series by yrbeecharmer

[suresha]

@crimsonwrit​  //  script  starter.

                       You  reek  of  vampire.  New  in  town?

[wistcrias-arch2]

@crimsonwrit​ said : ❛   god ,  it’s  brutal  out  here .  ❜ janis sarkisian ➵ cady heron 

          ❝ 𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬... 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞, ❞ cady said tentatively. she glanced around the cafeteria, wincing as a seat was stolen out from under a sort of nerdy looking kid with oversized glasses. he swallowed and tried to laugh it off, but the blush across his face sold him out.

❝ but... yeah. you’re right. it is. ❞ and she was glad then, to have janis. and more so... to have regina. the plastics. even if they were apparently not to be trusted... they did keep her safe. and cady liked being safe. it was a dog eat dog world here in high school –– could you blame her for wanting to be at the top of the food chain? 

[spectrophobias]

“I wonder if I still have that ouija board…” rosalie @ alice

"you do!" alice says after only a fraction of a moment, her eyes lighting up with excitement. she tries not to get too ahead of herself, finding the mystery of things like that to be a big part of the fun, but her power does come in handy for finding lost things. she's willing to cheat there, at least. already bouncing a little, it's clear that there's no way for rosalie to get out of this now, and she grins as she grabs one of rose's hands to squeeze in both of her own. "top shelf of your closet, behind the brown sweater. i'll get some candles, meet me in my room in five!!"

and with that, alice dashes off and up the stairs to commandeer a few of esme's candlesticks and holders and set up in her room, because if they're going to do this, they're going to do it right. this house is so fucking haunted, just look at it, and alice will prove it if it's the last thing she does.

@crimsonwrit

[moonshinaes]

✨

Send ( ✨ ) if we haven’t interacted yet, but you want to.

hey, babes! feel free to tag me in any starters or send memes! <3

[aladysweapon]

"I've never met a royal like you before." -sansa for janei

@crimsonwrit

"Most likely because I am not a royal.", Janei pointed out, her lips forming a thin like while her gaze lingered on the young lady. "Queen Cersei has married into the royal family, meaning her kin does not belong to it." It also meant that she was stuck serving her cousin in the Red Keep, instead of constantly enjoying its luxuries.

[crimsonvictory]

Just thinkin’ of Simon being a big meanie. :(

THIS IS FILTHY GOD

Teases you all day - little brushes of his fingers across the small of your back, the back of your neck. Loves holding you in place as you walk alongside him, thick fingers wrapped around the top of your spine - an impromptu leash. Never lets you out of his sight. Can’t let a pretty thing like you get away.

Pulls you in his lap just so he can get a look’atcha. You’re just in one of his tees and a pair of panties. His fuckin’ dream. Dark eyes glittering with mischief as he adjusts his hips. He doesn’t even hold in the huff of a laugh when the tent in his pants bumps against your clothed pussy. :(

“Jus’ admirin’,” he sighs, eyes lazily gliding down your form.

Has a tight grip on the fat of your hip, pads of his fingers slowly brushing your exposed skin. Swirls absentminded patterns as he focuses past your shoulder on the movie quietly playing in the background. Squeeeezes when a pretty pout forms on your face and a soft whine leaves your lips.

A soft ‘tut’ falls from his lips, grin pulling one side up that shows his sharp teeth. Acts like he has all the time in the world, that the movie is more interesting than you sittin’ in his lap. :(

You try your best to stay still. Huffing softly after waiting so patiently for him to notice you. You cross your arms over your chest, puffing out your perky tits to try and get his attention. Wetness pools in your underwear, causing the fabric to stick to your folds. Any touch of his has your pussy weeping, aching to be filled by his fingers or his cock.

He’s really mean today, brushing you off as he sinks further into the couch, the warm weight of your body relaxing him even further. You want to cry in frustration, his hands barely itching the burning scratch of pleasure rippling under your skin.

“Si,” you pout, fluttering your eyelashes at him - begging for him to move goddamnit.

His eyes flicker over to your own, dark irises nearly swallowed up by his pupils. You can almost see your reflection in them. How pretty you look, sittin’ all dolled up in his lap and he’s not even payin’ attention to you. :(

Simon doesn’t answer you, just watches. Loves watching you squirm in his lap under the scrutiny of his gaze. You’re nearly trembling with want, pouty lips all bitten red and he’s barely touched you.

“Please,” you whisper, reaching a delicate hand out to rest over the one that’s circling your hip.

His resolve almost crumbles. Almost. Little bird beggin’ so nicely. But you catch it, the wicked glimmer in his eyes as he decides to keep you waiting just a bit longer. His fingers move slowly, brushing upward and under your thin shirt. They rest just under the swell of your breast, dry pads of his fingers lightly touching the skin there.

A hot flush burns down your neck, turning your skin a pretty pink. A soft sound building in the back of your throat. You don’t dare move - afraid he’ll go back to ignoring you again. Your breath stutters to a halt, wide eyes watching his every move. Simon’s fingers slowly glide upwards, brushing against your already peaked nipple. Goosebumps appear on your skin, body reacting to his soft touches.

He pinches your bud with his thick fingers, a sharp, sudden pleasure pooling down into your stomach. His eyes are on you now, predatory as he rolls the little bud around, watching as your eyelids flutter and the breath you were holding leaves your lips. He does this for a while, releasing his hold and watching you squirm before doin’ it all over again. The denim of his jeans rubs perfectly against your folds, pressing into you every time you squirm. :(

“Sit still,” he grumbles, placing his other hand on your hip to hold you in place.

A pathetic whine leaves your lips, tears pricking at your eyes. Your little nose turns red, snifflin’ away the inevitable run that threatens to fall as you get all worked up. Poor little thing - pussy puffy and throbbin’ - beggin’ for just a little relief. Simon grins when the first tear falls, cooing softly as you come undone in his lap.

Now he’ll touch ‘ya. Just has to break you in a little. You learn how to sit still, conditioned to sit all pretty until he’s ready. His large hand slides down the slope of your torso, slipping into the waistband of your panties.

“Fuckin’ drippin’,” he hums, the approval evident in his deep voice.

Simon takes his thumb and brushes it over your little pearl, laughing softly when you arch into his touch.

“Needy little thing,” he nearly mocks, pressing slow circles into the bundle of nerves.

Fire licks down your spine, the touch of him fueling your want even more. Arousal gushes out of your neglected hole, dripping down your thighs. He alternates between swirling his thumb and pulling away suddenly, loving the way you arch and cry when he abruptly neglects your abused clit.

Mean. He’s so mean.

Your lip quivers as you hold onto his broad bicep, grounding yourself as the pleasure starts to pull you away. Your hips stutter in his lap, legs shaking as your first orgasm burns hot. A moan chokes its way out of your lungs, eyes fluttering shut as you writhe against his touch.

“Barely touched ‘ya and you’re comin,” he gruffs out, fingers not letting up on your sensitive bud.

You whine, trying to push his hand away but he doesn’t let up, keeps polishing that little pearl between your thick thighs. His index and middle fingers reach out to pull your soaked panties to the side, lookin’ at your cunt.

“Look,” he coos. “She’s cryin.”

He pats your pussy then, three thick fingers smackin’ your clit. Dark eyes watching as your arousal drips down your thighs and pools on his jeans. :(

“Makin’ a mess,” he scolds, sliding his fingers down and tracing them through your slippery folds.

“Simon!” you cry, pretty little face puffy with tears.

His thick fingers dip down into your hole, arousal making them slip right in. A soft moan rumbles out of him, and you feel his cock twitch against the backside of your thigh.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he coos again, lust softening the mean streak in him just a bit.

He almost forgets just how mean he was being, thrusting his fingers up into you, tight walls clenchin’ around them. He gives you a little bit of leeway, pumpin’ you full while he watches. You writhe on his fingers, especially when they curl against that spongey spot that has you seein’ stars.

“F-Fuck,” you cry out, voice wobbling with how tight your throat is.

You feel another familiar burn in your stomach, chasin’ to fuel the fire and set you over the edge. Just when you’re about to come, Simon pulls his fingers out. You burn hot with rage, sobbing out in frustration as you’re left clenchin’ around nothin’.

“We got all night, sweetheart. Why ‘ya rushin’?” he mocks, accent thick with lust.

You sob then, truly sob as somethin’ in you breaks. You just want to come. You’ve been such a good girl and he’s bein’ mean to his little bird.

“You’re bein’ mean,” you sob, exasperation leeching into your tone.

The pooling of your tears have your cheeks shiny, illuminating the blush spread across your skin. Simon loves it. Doesn’t think he’s ever seen anythin’ prettier.

“Aw, lovie,” he sighs. “Feelin’ neglected are ‘ya?”

You nod, trembling when his hand squeezes your hip, thumb brushing over your clit. He tuts softly, thick fingers slowly pushing back in, watching them slowly disappear. You moan in relief, clenching around his fingers again.

“There we go,” he murmurs, watchin’ his pretty girl bounce in his lap.

It lasts a moment or two before he’s pullin’ his fingers out again. A wail climbs out of your chest, tears pourin’ freely down your face as you lose that burning pleasure yet again. You don’t even notice him moving, lifting you up and layin’ you down on the couch before spreadin’ your legs.

His thighs push your own open, stretchin’ your hips wide as he pulls your panties to the side and gives your pussy another slap. You squeal, scramblin’ to reach out and grab his broad shoulders. Simon’s pulled himself out of his jeans, thick cock bobbing up against his soft belly. You nearly drool at the thought of havin’ him inside you.

“Please,” you whine again, nose stuffy from cryin’.

Simon’s dark eyes glint with that meanness again, smirkin’ as he takes the base of his cock in his grip and guides the velvety tip through your puffy folds. The smackin’ sound of your juices is filthy, allowing easy passes of his cock. The head bumps against your clit, causin’ your toes to curl.

“Fuck,” he groans, eyes glued to where the two of you meet. “Look’atcha.”

His pretty girl is all doe eyed, dumb as fuck from the pleasure. You’ve got drool in the corner of your mouth, looking up at him like he set the sun. A laugh huffs out of his broad chest at the sight of you. Gorgeous. :(

Simon loves his pretty girl. Loves bein’ mean and makin’ you stupid with his cock. He slides the tip down, groaning as it catches against your puffy hole. You swallow him up, pullin’ him in and clenchin’ around his length.

“Goddamn.” he grits out, one hand clenchin’ your hip like a lifeline.

The other rests on your throat - a placeholder. His hips snap forward, nestling deep inside your cervix. You’re cryin’ again, chest heavin’ with the pleasure that sets your nerves alight. The sight of you has his cock twitchin’ - nearly bustin’ and fillin’ you full of his come.

Simon thrusts in and out slowly, milkin’ you for all that you have. Your thighs stretch in a delicious burn, wrapped around his own as he keeps you close. His large frame cradles you, keeps you formed where he wants you to be, as close as possible as he whispers sweetness in your ear.

You’ve got him now, got him nice and pliant and sweet talkin’. Your hands rest on his face, cooin’ and moanin’ against his plush lips. He grinds against your hips, tip of him bullyin’ your cervix. :(

“So fuckin’ tight.” he groans. “So perfect f’me,”

Words tumble out of his mouth, so pussy drunk he doesn’t even know what he’s sayin’. All he cares about is the warmth of your womb, keepin’ him close to his doll baby.

“Simon,” you gasp. “I’m gonna come.”

He groans against your skin, neck pressed into the softness of your neck.

“Come f’me Angel,” he murmurs, biting down at the junction of your shoulder.

You do. How can you not? The perfect mix of pain and pleasure ripplin’ down your body as you arch against him. Simon holds you close, pumpin’ his pretty baby full as you come down from your high. You gasp at the fullness, whimpering as he nestles closer. Not leavin’ anytime soon.

[nitewingbabi]

see you there

[crimson-luna-writes]

A little (late) thing I wrote for DimiDue fest! I'm glad I was able to get this out before just abandoning it in frustration 😅

Hope yall enjoy 🙏

[kingalfrcd]

@crimsonwrit asked: “ i’m going to miss these little talks of ours. “ from sansa

it was common knowledge in king’s landing and beyond that alfred was dying. his illness had gotten progressively worse since he’d been crowned king, and he knew he didn’t have much time left. it was depressing to think about, but nevertheless, it was reality, and he just prayed to the gods that his death would be painless.

“so am i, sansa,” alfred replied truthfully. ever since her father was executed, he’d been sort of a father figure to her. a hand came to rest on her shoulder. it was hard to say goodbye; what was he supposed to say when he knew he’d never see her again? “you have come so far. i am so proud of you, and your father would be, too.”

[kingalfrcd]

alfred had seen her from afar. he wasn’t stupid; he could spot suspicious activity from a mile away. she was probably one of cersei’s spies. she was looking to usurp his throne, and had been looking for years now. saving her from the cart was the perfect opportunity to find out who she was.

as soon as she spoke, her accent stood out to him. a northern accent. when the breeze blew off her hood, revealing her red hair, he knew exactly who she was. but what was she doing here? “lady sansa.” alfred quickly reached for her hood, pulling it back over her head. “you must not be seen here. queen cersei longs for your head.” he looked into her eyes. they were so bright, almost brighter than any he’d ever seen before. it was a telltale sign. how long until she was recognized? “you should not be here.”

@kingalfrcd​ asked:  push :   my  muse  pushing  your  muse  out  of  the  way  of  danger.

Sansa cried out in reflex more than any genuine pain as she was shoved aside, away from the cart that had just nearly ran her over. Pulling her dark hood lower to hide every telltale lock of red hair she could, she turned to thank the person kind enough to save her life. Surprise momentarily stunned her into silence, seeing the King standing before her, after a beat Sansa remembered her manners and sank onto the sidewalk in a low curtsey. 

“Thank you, your Majesty, for saving me just now. I was careless. I deeply appreciate your kindness.” Sansa looked back up, still curtseying, before a breeze drifted by, blowing her hood down and exposing her face and hair, known well as the last remaining Stark. Freezing, forcing herself to keep composure, her lips turned upward in a tight smile. “My name is Lady Sansa of Winterfell, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

[suresha]

[ @crimsonwrit​ ]

      UNLIKE  HER  BROTHER  VISERYS,  Daenerys  had  never  expected  some  royal  fanfare  after  arriving  in  the  West.  In  fact,  aside  from  the  people  of  Dorne,  no  one  had  sent  so  much  as  a  raven  welcoming  her  to  Dragonstone.

     It's  fine,  she  thought.  At  least  I  know  where  I  stand.

     And  where  she  stood  was  a  far  cry  from  where  her  brother  proclaimed  they  might.  No  one  gave  seven  hells  about  the  young  dragon  queen  and  if  her  scouts  had  heard  correctly,  the  only  whispers  upon  their  tongues  was  fear  that  she  might  finish  what  her  father  started.  Not  the  start  she  was  hoping  for,  but  it  was  what  Barristan  had  prepared  her  to  endure  all  the  same.

     Conquering  Westeros  had  never  been  her  dream  and  yet  after  Viserys'  death,  she  felt  obligated  to  carry  on.  His  death  and  that  of Rhaego's  would  have  been  in  vain  were  she  to  switch  courses.  That  along  with  her  team's  unwavering  loyalty  was  why  she  found  herself  making  a  home  out  of  the  old  family  keep  of  Storm's  End... at  least  for  now.  Her  dragons  came  and  went,  but  were  content  to  be  at  a  place  suited  especially  for  them.  Drogon  was  perched  high  upon  one  of  the  towers  when  a  scout  came  calling.  It  was  from  the  North  which  surprised  all  parties  in  the  room.

     ❝ A  Lady  Sansa?❞  Dany  asked.  "Is  she  Queen  in  the  North  or  merely  acting  in  the  wake  of  her  brother? ❞   Because  there  had  been  rumors  that  the  north  named  the  bastard  of  Ned  Stark  as  king,  something  Dany  found  odd  if  he  was  supposedly  Lord  Commander  of  the  Night's  Watch.

     ❝ We  have  a  lot  to  catch  up  on,  your  grace, ❞   Barristan  noted,  ❝ but  for  now,  you  must  accept  her  invitation  to  Winterfell. You  have  no  other  allies  and  the  north  has  every  reason  to  be  disgruntled  with  Queen  Cersei.  They're  honorable  people  your  grace.  She  would  never  pull  a  Walder  Frey. ❞

     With  Jorah  also  in  agreement,  a  hastily  written  letter  was  sent  by  Raven.  In  three  day's  time,  Daenerys  along  with  a  small  entourage  of  her  people,  ventured  north  for  a  meeting  she  hoped  would  not  begin  with  a  icy  reception.