#imagine all of the crack possibilities???

[alastwhorez]

Southern drawl

♡ pairing: Human!Alastor x Reader

♡ Summary: you can't help but love Alastor’s southern drawl

♡ Warnings: 18+, MDNI, sleepy Alastor, voice kink, unprotected sex, southern drawl, sleepy voice

♡ An: quickly written, not proofread, possible spelling errors, poorly written.

Can't stop thinking about Alastor’s sleepy voice..

Imagine Alastor working late at the radio station or having a late night “hunting” and coming home just to fall asleep on the couch.

Imagine the next morning you find him. Head tilted back, legs spread, one thrown over the back of the couch the other hanging off. His glasses are hanging low on his face and his hair is a mess.

Imagine crouching down beside him and gently shaking him awake. “Al, baby time to wake up”

Imagine him groaning and cracking open one of his eyes, a goofy smile on his face as he takes you in and says your name slurring the word. “‘ive more minutes darlin'”

Imagine him closing his eyes again and rolling over and into a ball on the couch. He's way too tall to be sleeping there but he's too comfortable to move.

Imagine him talking in his sleep, his voice is raspy, his southern drawl more prominent and speech slightly slurred laced with sleep.

Imagine him not actually being asleep, he just knows what his voice does to you when it sounds like that.

Imagine him using this to his advantage. Always trying to rile you up and get a reaction out of you.

Imagine him with a hidden smirk on his face as he hears your breath hitch when you hear him talk.

Imagine him “waking up” just to talk dirty to you in that voice. “Wanna fuck you so bad darlin’. Bend you over the table and Have my way with ya.”

Imagine him knowing exactly what he is doing to you. Holding back a laugh and trying not to smirk “Aw darlin’ somethin’ the matter? You're all flushed. Look at you rubbing your legs together”

Imagine him actually Doing it. You're bent over the coffee table, nightgown thrown up over your hips as he thrusts into you. He's bent over you back whispering the naughtiest things you've ever heard. “Fuck, cunts so tight sweetness. was made for me. Left a permanent imprint of my cock. Look at you takin’ me so well.”

Imagine him putting his hand on your stomach feeling the Bulge of himself going in and out. He takes your hand And puts it there pushing down. “Feel that sweet girl? Feel how deep in you I am?”

Imagine after he is done with you his voice is somehow even more raspy and his southern drawl even worse. “Let's get ya cleaned up darlin’”

Imagine him giving you the sweetest aftercare, running you a bath and cuddling up on the couch as you listen to jazz on the radio.

[victorie552]

Kind of a weird AU but hear me out:

Finwe marries Indis, right? Most controversial thing Finwe ever done and that includes leading elves from their ancestral home to a new continent to live with gods. Silmarillion says that it happened because he fell in love and I believe it BUT what Silmarillion doesn't tell you is WHEN Finwe marries Indis. I saw posts that say the canon is inconclusive and Tolkien probably changed his mind a lot, and half of what of what Tolkien wrote is thrown from the window by fandom, so.

Anyway, one of the versions said Feanor was at least a teenager when Finwe/Indis happens (I think). What Silmarillion states is that Feanor married VERY young by elven standards, and that Nerdanel was below his station (classism? in elven society? apparently!).

Last thing before I get to the main point: Fingolfin marries Anaire, a Noldo lady, who I saw often enough written as a noble or a court lady, perfectly fine that, no idea if that's canon. And Finarfin very much marries Teleri princess.

...I don't know guys, it feels very convienient. For princes to fall in love with exactly the kind of women who would be approved by royal court and strenghten political ties with other elven factions. If it was anything else than silm, I would call political marriages.

Time for crack: based on what I wrote above I propose an AU where it was FEANOR who was supposed to marry Indis. For politics! Vanyar are the most important faction in Aman! Let's marry into that!

But the MOMENT Feanor became an adult and they could process with courting without making it creppier than it already is, Feanor runs off to elope with his coworker and there's nothing they can do. Well, that's what Finwe tells Ingwe when Ingwe rages about it to him.

Finwe loves Feanor, he wants him to marry for love, and that's exactly what happens. But, uh, all Vanyar are pissed that there's no political marriage when they were promised one (they mad cause they look stupid now), and, well. Finwe decides to bite the bullet. For his son.

It's not true of course. But imagine family dinners after that.

[novaursa]

The Last Fire

- Summary: You survived the fall in the desert, and now it's up to you again to decide where your story leads or ends.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen

- Note: This part contains two new possible endings that were requested. Pick your poison. These events happen after The Last Flight, and these two short stories are part of The Broken Crown series. For all parts in one place, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

Ending where Y/N survives the fall, but still dies.

The last thing you remember is the unbearable pain, the world spinning out of control as you and Tesaerix plummeted toward the unforgiving sands below. Her agonized roar still echoes in your mind, a terrible sound of agony and desperation. The impact had been a blur of fire, darkness, and then nothing at all.

When you wake, it is to the sensation of a dull, throbbing pain that pulses through every inch of your body. The air is thick with the scent of herbs and smoke, and your mouth is dry, lips cracked. Your eyes flutter open, struggling to adjust to the dim, unfamiliar light. Stone walls loom around you, cold and unwelcoming. A Dornish castle. Your heart sinks.

Your first instinct is to move, to fight, to escape, but your body betrays you. Sharp pain lances through your side as you shift, and a low, involuntary groan escapes your lips. Everything hurts. Every breath is a struggle, every thought fogged with the weight of what has happened. You reach for your belly, your hand trembling as it finds the emptiness where there should be life. The child is gone. A sob rips through your throat, raw and jagged. The loss is a hollow ache, a void that you cannot fill, no matter how hard you try to pull the shattered pieces of yourself together.

A guard standing at the door turns at the sound, his expression a mix of surprise and something darker—satisfaction, perhaps. His armor gleams in the dim light, the crest of House Martell emblazoned on his chest. He watches you struggle with an impassive gaze, offering no words of comfort or aid.

“How long?” you manage to rasp, your voice barely more than a whisper, rough from disuse.

“Eight days,” the guard replies, his voice flat. “You’ve been unconscious for eight days.”

Eight days. The weight of it settles over you like a shroud. Aegon must think you are dead. The thought of him mourning you, believing you lost, brings a fresh wave of pain. You try to imagine what he must be feeling—the grief, the rage. It’s almost too much to bear.

You attempt to sit up, but your body refuses to cooperate. Every movement sends sharp stabs of agony radiating through your limbs. The guard takes a step forward, a warning in his eyes.

“Stay down,” he commands, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re under orders not to leave this chamber.”

“Orders?” you ask, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. “From whom?”

“Princess Meria Martell,” he replies. “You are to be held here until he decides your fate.”

Your fate. The words chill you to the core. You are a prisoner, a trophy to the Dornish princess, held captive in the land that has stolen so much from you. Your dragon, your child. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the hopelessness is overwhelming. You close your eyes, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.

But you cannot afford to break. Not now. You have to survive. You have to find a way out, a way to let Aegon know that you are alive, that you are still fighting.

The days pass in a haze of pain and frustration. You are too weak to move, too broken to plan an escape. The guards change shifts, faceless men who bring you food and water, who watch you with the wary eyes of those who know they are in the presence of something dangerous, something they do not fully understand.

One evening, as the sun sets below the horizon, you hear it—a low, distant rumble. Your heart skips a beat. It is a sound you know well, a sound that has haunted your dreams since the day you fell. Dragonfire.

You push yourself up, the pain almost unbearable, but you force yourself to ignore it. You stumble to the small, barred window, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The sky is a dark canvas painted with flames, the unmistakable black silhouette of Balerion the Black Dread soaring above, his jaws spewing torrents of fire that rain down upon the castle below.

“Aegon,” you whisper, your voice breaking. He has come. He has come to avenge you, to burn this place to the ground in his wrath. But he does not know—you are still here. Panic surges through you, cold and sharp. You pound on the door, shouting with what little strength you have left.

“Help! Someone, please!” But no one comes. No one hears. The guards have fled, the castle descending into chaos as Balerion’s fury turns stone to ash and sand to glass.

The flames grow closer, the heat becoming unbearable. The walls of your chamber begin to crack, smoke seeping in through the seams. You cough, your lungs burning as you struggle to breathe, to think.

You have to escape. You have to find a way out. But there is no time. The fire is everywhere now, the heat scorching, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning flesh and wood. You stagger back, your legs giving out beneath you as the ceiling above begins to splinter, molten rock falling like rain.

In your mind, you see Aegon’s face—his eyes dark with grief, his jaw set in that way that you know means he is barely holding himself together. You want to reach out to him, to tell him that you are still here, still alive. But the words stick in your throat, lost in the choking smoke and searing pain.

The door to your chamber bursts open, flames licking at the edges, and you know this is the end. There is no escape, no hope. You close your eyes, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you surrender to the inevitable.

“I’m sorry, Aegon,” you whisper, the words barely audible over the roar of the fire. “I’m so sorry.”

The flames engulf you then, and the world fades to black.

The great hall of Aegonfort was cloaked in an uneasy silence. Servants moved quietly, casting nervous glances at the somber figure of the King. Aegon Targaryen sat on his throne, a shadow of the man he had been. His face was pale, eyes haunted, the lines of grief etched deeply into his features. Each breath felt like a burden, each moment a struggle to maintain the stoic facade he had been forced to wear since that day.

He had returned from Dorne victorious, or so it seemed to others. But victory felt like ash in his mouth. The fury that had driven him to lay waste to Sunspear had given way to a hollow emptiness. The cries of the dying, the smell of burning flesh—all of it haunted him, because none of it could bring you back.

It was then that a servant approached, holding out a small, sealed scroll with trembling hands. “A message from Princess Meria of Dorne, Your Grace.”

Aegon took the letter, his fingers almost numb as he broke the seal. His eyes scanned the parchment, and as he read, his blood turned to ice. The words blurred, but their meaning was unmistakable. You had been alive. Captured, held prisoner. And he had—without knowing—burned you alive in his wrath.

He staggered back, the letter slipping from his grasp and fluttering to the ground like a dying leaf. The world spun around him, his knees buckling as the weight of the revelation crashed over him. His vision dimmed, and he would have collapsed, had Visenya not been there, her strong arms wrapping around him, steadying him.

“Aegon!” Her voice was sharp, full of concern, cutting through the fog that clouded his mind. Rhaenys was there too, her face stricken, rushing to his side.

“Aegon, what’s happened?” Rhaenys asked, her voice trembling. She reached for him, her hands gentle but insistent, trying to draw his gaze to hers. “Please, tell us.”

He could barely speak. The words lodged in his throat, a jagged knot of guilt and horror. His body trembled uncontrollably, a tremor that started in his hands and spread through him like a plague. His eyes, wide and filled with unspeakable anguish, locked onto the faces of his sisters, searching for something he could not name.

“I—I killed her,” he choked out, his voice breaking on the last word. “I burned her alive.”

The silence that followed was absolute, the kind of silence that is born from disbelief, from horror too deep to comprehend. Visenya’s grip on him tightened, her face ashen, her eyes reflecting a grief that mirrored his own.

“No, Aegon,” Rhaenys whispered, shaking her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “That can’t be true. You wouldn’t—”

“She was there,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “In the castle. Alive. And I... I didn’t know.” His words faltered, breaking under the weight of his confession. “I thought she was gone, and I...” He buried his face in his hands, a raw, strangled sob tearing from his throat. “Gods, I killed her. I killed them both.”

Rhaenys’ hands flew to her mouth, a sob escaping her lips as she stumbled back, her legs giving way as she sank to the floor. Visenya’s face hardened, though her eyes shone with unshed tears. Her grip on him remained firm, as if trying to hold him together when everything else had shattered.

“Aegon,” she said, her voice breaking through the haze of his despair. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known.”

But her words felt meaningless, empty. There was no solace to be found in them, no absolution for what he had done. He had let his rage blind him, had let his need for vengeance consume him, and now the price was beyond bearing. The child—your child—gone forever, as he believes it was taken by his own hand. And you... you, whom he had loved more fiercely than life itself, gone because he had failed you in the worst way imaginable.

His body shook with the force of his grief, tears he could no longer hold back streaming down his face. “I killed her, Visenya,” he whispered, his voice a broken thing. “I killed her and our child. I... I’ve destroyed everything.”

Rhaenys reached for him then, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him close as though she could somehow hold the pieces of him together. “Aegon, no,” she wept, her voice a soft, desperate plea. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

But the truth of it was a knife twisting in his gut. He had believed you dead, and in his fury, his pain, he had become the very thing he had sworn to destroy. He had let his grief turn him into a monster, and in doing so, he had taken everything that mattered.

Visenya knelt beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder, her touch a steadying force amidst the chaos. “We will get through this,” she murmured, though her voice shook. “Somehow, we will.”

But Aegon knew there was no coming back from this. No battle to fight, no enemy to conquer. The enemy was within him, a darkness he could never escape. The flames of Balerion’s wrath had claimed more than just stone and flesh—they had taken the very heart of him, leaving nothing but ashes and ruin.

And so he wept, there on the cold stone floor of Aegonfort, his sisters by his side, but no comfort to be found. The King of the Seven Kingdoms, broken by his own hand, mourning the woman he had loved—and lost—twice over.

Ending where Y/N survives the fall with her dragon near Sunspear.

The air was filled with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, the heat of battle suffocating even in the high sky. Tesaerix’s wings beat heavily, each movement strained, her breaths coming in labored, ragged bursts. You could feel her pain through the bond you shared, a deep, searing ache that tore through your side as if it were your own. She had been struck, the harpoon lodged deep in her flank, just beneath her wing. Her roar of agony still echoed in your ears, a sound that would haunt you forever.

“Hold on, girl,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you leaned forward, your hand pressing against the warm, slick scales near the wound. Blood, dark and thick, oozed from the gash, and your heart clenched with fear. “Just a little longer.”

Tesaerix let out a low, rumbling growl, her muscles tensing beneath you as she angled downward. The ground rushed up to meet you both, but her descent was controlled, her movements careful despite the pain wracking her body. You clung to her neck, every jolt sending fresh waves of agony through you both, but you held on, murmuring soft words of encouragement.

The landing was rough, her massive form crashing down onto the rocky terrain outside of Sunspear with a jarring thud. The impact jarred you from the saddle, sending you sprawling onto the ground. Pain flared through your side, and you gasped, your hands instinctively moving to your swollen belly. The baby. The fear that gripped your heart was cold and sharp. You forced yourself to take a breath, wincing as you struggled to your feet, pain lancing through your body.

“Tesaerix…” You turned to her, your heart breaking at the sight. She lay on her side, the harpoon still embedded in her scales, her eyes half-closed, her breaths shallow. You stumbled toward her, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch her snout, your fingers brushing over her warm, familiar scales.

“We made it,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “We’re safe now.”

But even as you said the words, you knew they were a lie. The sound of approaching footsteps and the clatter of weapons made your heart sink. You turned, your body tense, as a group of Dornish soldiers surrounded you, their spears raised, their faces hard and unyielding. Behind them, riding in a litter shaded by silks, was Princess Meria Martell, her gaze sharp and calculating as it swept over the scene.

“You are far from home, Targaryen,” she said, her voice carrying over the tense silence. “And in no position to bargain.”

You straightened, ignoring the pain that shot through your side, your hand still resting protectively over your belly. “I am Queen Y/N Targaryen, wife of King Aegon. I demand safe passage for myself and my dragon.”

Meria’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Demands, is it? You are in no position to demand anything, child. You and your dragon are prisoners of Dorne.”

You glanced at Tesaerix, her body still and trembling with pain, her deep red eyes flickering weakly. Chains were already being brought forward, heavy iron links that were meant to bind her, to keep her grounded and helpless. The thought of her, proud and fierce, being chained once more like a common beast made your blood boil.

“Please,” you said, your voice breaking despite yourself. “She’s wounded. Let her be treated, and I will come with you peacefully.”

Meria studied you for a long moment, her eyes narrowing. Then she gave a curt nod. “The dragon will be tended to, but she will remain under guard. And you will come with us, now.”

The soldiers stepped forward, and you forced yourself to stand tall, even as fear and pain threatened to overwhelm you. Tesaerix let out a low, pained growl, her eyes locked on you as the soldiers approached, her body tensing as if she would rise and fight, despite her injuries.

“No,” you whispered, your voice firm as you placed a hand on her snout. “Stay, Tesaerix. Stay.” She let out a soft rumble, her massive head lowering to the ground, her eyes closing as if to conserve her strength. You turned back to the soldiers, your heart aching, but you forced yourself to move forward.

They escorted you into Sunspear, through winding streets that echoed with the murmurs of the people, curious and wary as they watched the procession pass. You kept your head high, your gaze fixed forward, refusing to show any sign of weakness or fear.

They led you to a chamber in the castle, its stone walls cool and unyielding. The door closed behind you with a heavy thud, the sound of the lock sliding into place echoing through the room. You were alone now, a prisoner in an enemy’s stronghold.

The days blurred together, each one filled with a growing dread. Your thoughts were consumed with worry for Tesaerix, chained and wounded outside the city. You paced the confines of your chamber, your mind racing with thoughts of Aegon, of what he must be feeling, believing you lost. You could only hope he would find out the truth before it was too late.

On the fifth day, Meria visited you. She stood in the doorway, her expression inscrutable, her eyes lingering on your belly before meeting your gaze. “Your dragon will survive, though her wing may never fully heal,” she said, as if discussing the weather.

Relief washed over you, though it was quickly followed by a fresh wave of anger. “And what of me? What do you intend to do with me?”

Meria tilted her head, considering. “You are valuable, Targaryen. As long as you remain with child, your life is safe. But know this—I will use you to ensure Aegon’s compliance. The war has cost too much already.”

You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your voice steady. “And if I lose the child?”

“Then your fate will depend on my whim,” she said simply, her eyes hard. “Do not try to escape, Y/N. Your dragon may be chained, but even a wounded beast is dangerous. And if she dies trying to save you…” She let the implication hang in the air, the threat clear.

Rage and fear battled within you, but you forced yourself to remain calm. “I will not try to escape,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue. “But if you harm her, there will be no place in this world you can hide from my husband’s wrath.”

Meria’s smile was thin, humorless. “We shall see, my lady.”

As she left, you sank onto the hard bed, your body trembling with exhaustion and despair. The days that followed were a blur of pain and uncertainty, your thoughts constantly turning to Aegon, to Tesaerix, to the fragile life within you. You had to survive, for their sake. You had to find a way to endure.

Outside, you knew the chains that bound Tesaerix were a constant reminder of your captivity, her pain mirroring your own. But you were both still alive, still fighting, even if only by clinging to the hope that Aegon would come, that he would find you before it was too late.

And when he did, you swore to yourself, you would make them all pay for what they had done. For every wound, every chain, every day of fear and suffering. You would see Dorne burn for this. You would see them all kneel before the fury of the Targaryen fire.

Princess Meria Martell sat in her chambers, the heavy stone walls of Sunspear pressing in around her like the weight of a great, immovable burden. She drummed her fingers on the polished wood of her desk, her eyes scanning the letter she had penned days ago. She had offered the King a simple exchange: your life and freedom in return for Dorne’s autonomy. It was a calculated risk, a gamble meant to end the bloodshed that had ravaged her lands and threatened her people.

But the answer she received was not what she had expected.

The messenger had barely finished delivering the news when a sudden, deafening roar echoed across Sunspear, shaking the very foundations of the castle. Meria’s heart froze. She shot to her feet, her blood turning to ice as a servant burst into the room, his face ashen with terror.

“Dragons, Your Grace! They’re here!”

Panic seized her. She swept past the servant, her silks rustling as she hurried down the corridors, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The stone walls seemed to close in around her, her mind racing with fear and confusion. Aegon wasn’t supposed to come, not yet. Not like this.

Reaching the balcony that overlooked the city, she pushed open the doors and stepped out into the blazing sunlight. The sight that greeted her was one she would never forget. Balerion the Black Dread hovered above the city, his massive wings blotting out the sun, casting a dark shadow over Sunspear. Below him, Vhagar and Meraxes circled, their screeching cries filling the air as if announcing the coming storm.

And there, on the edge of the city, near the main gates, was Tesaerix. Her golden scales glinted in the harsh light, her massive form still and tense, the iron chains that held her stretched taut. But Balerion was descending toward her, the great beast’s eyes glowing with a dark, dangerous intent. With a mighty roar, he landed beside her, his immense claws tearing through the chains as if they were no more than threads.

Tesaerix let out a guttural snarl, her wings unfolding cautiously as the last of her bindings fell away. The sight of the great dragon, wounded yet still fierce, stretching her wings and shaking off the restraints, sent a shiver down Meria’s spine. She knew then, with a clarity that burned like ice, that she had underestimated Aegon Targaryen. This was not a king who would bargain or yield. This was a man who would see the world burn before he let anything be taken from him.

Meria turned, heart pounding, as she saw the three figures approaching the castle. Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys dismounted just outside the gates, the air around them shimmering with the heat of their dragons’ breath. The ground trembled beneath their feet, the power of their presence undeniable, terrifying.

She forced herself to move, to descend the stairs and meet them at the entrance. Her guards flanked her, their faces pale, their hands gripping their spears as if holding on to the last shred of their courage. She stepped forward, lifting her chin, though her heart raced like a caged bird.

Aegon’s eyes met hers, and the fury she saw there was like a living, breathing thing, coiled tight and ready to strike. His face was a mask of barely contained rage, the lines of his jaw clenched so tightly she thought it might shatter.

“Princess Meria,” he said, his voice low and cold, as if he were spitting the words through gritted teeth. “You dare to hold my wife captive and then try to negotiate with me?”

Meria swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I offered you peace, Your Grace. An end to this war. Dorne in exchange for—”

“For my queen? For my child?” he snarled, stepping forward, the raw power radiating from him like heat from a forge. “You think you can trade lives with me, like some merchant haggling over goods? I am no man to be bargained with.”

Visenya’s eyes were like chips of ice, her hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, the sword gleaming wickedly in the sun. “You will release her, and our unborn nephew or niece, now,” she said, her voice a quiet, deadly promise. “Or Sunspear will burn until it is nothing but a memory.”

Rhaenys’ usually warm, vibrant presence was overshadowed by a seething anger. “Do not mistake our patience for weakness, Princess,” she said, her voice taut with restrained fury. “You have made a grievous error.”

Meria raised her hands, trying to project calm. “I do not wish for more bloodshed. I swear to you, Y/N is unharmed. She and the child are safe.”

“Safe?” Aegon’s voice was a roar, his eyes blazing. “Chained like a beast, held in your dungeons, with her dragon bound outside like a common animal—that is your idea of safety?”

Meria took a breath, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “I needed to ensure that Dorne would not be crushed under your might. I needed leverage.”

“And now you have none,” Visenya cut in, her tone sharp as a blade. “Release her. Or I swear by the gods, your city will burn until there is nothing left.”

Meria hesitated, her mind racing. She had known this moment was dangerous, but she had thought she would have time, that she could control the situation. Now, looking at the three Targaryens before her, their dragons looming like harbingers of death, she realized just how badly she had miscalculated.

She nodded, slowly, her voice quiet. “She will be brought to you. Unharmed.”

Aegon stepped forward, his face inches from hers, and she could feel the barely restrained fury radiating off him like a physical force. “If I find one scratch on her, one sign that she or my child has been harmed…” He let the threat hang, his eyes burning into hers with a promise of utter destruction. “I will reduce this city to ash and bone.”

Meria shuddered but nodded again, turning to give the order. As she did, she glanced back at the dragons, at Balerion, who stood protectively near Tesaerix, the massive beast’s eyes glowing with a deadly intelligence.

She knew then that there would be no mercy, no second chances. If she failed to deliver, if she tried to deceive them even slightly, Sunspear—and all of Dorne—would be lost to the wrath of the dragons.

And so she prayed, silently, that her people would not suffer for her misjudgment, and that you would be returned to your king unscathed. Because if not, there would be no place in this world that could hide her from Aegon’s vengeance.

[starlightsuffered]

Do you think you could write a timmy fic where "it just doesn't fit" like, it hurts whenever they try, how gentle they are.

A/N - I’ve done ones like this before but here :)

It Just Doesn’t Fit

Info - angst, frustrated reader, oral/fingering (female receiving), virgin reader, big dick, using lube, unprotected sex, a bit of praise kink

“Just give it up,” I said, the feeling of sadness overwhelming me.

After a hard month of a difficult work environment and Timothée being gone often, I wanted to feel in control of something. My boyfriend suggest I pick the day we have sex for the first time.

We’d talked about it extensively over text. He would be my first and though many people had told me otherwise, I expected it to be magical. Timothée had promised he would make it as lovely as possible.

Now I felt like shit I lay in my own sweat and rose petals. I was hot and my hair was everywhere. It had started romantic until I’d cried out in pain Timothée had started to push in. It didn’t matter how many angles we tried. We were both grunting and frustrated.

He had offered to finger me or eat me out. We’d already done that and I wanted something new. I wanted one, just one of my plans to come through correctly. I didn’t want to feel like a failure in every aspect of life.

“Don’t bother, it’s just too big,” I sniffled. Suddenly, I was crying. I covered my overheated cheeks as the tears flowed. I tried to stop desperately but it just made my eyes well even more.

“Hey, no, baby,” Timothée said with concern lacing his tone.

“I just wanted one fucking thing to go right this month,” I snapped. I wasn’t angry with him, just the situation.

“Mon amour,” his voice was nearly a whisper that cracked with emotion. I heard a gulp from him and he laid his head on my chest. My hand automatically went to his hair. I made myself breathe more slowly.

“I thought, ‘well maybe even if my boyfriend is gone most of the time, I can at least give him some bomb pussy when he’s around’.”

“Oh baby,” he said mournfully. He pressed a chaste kiss to my exposed nipple. I shivered a bit.

“Look, I don’t want to force you, but I bet I can loosen you up a bit, and I’ve got lube,” he offered in a small voice.

“I want it,” I nodded.

“I know you’d imagine we’d get right into it, but you just need some prep baby, that’s expected. Don’t you dare worry about it, I’ve got you,” Timothée was smiling as he nearly blabbered.

“I want to make it good for you,” I said as I squeezed the last tears out.

“Honey, just let me take care of you. It is your first time. You’ve been going through hell. Let me help you,” he whispered.

I let him maneuver me. He gently spread my legs and kissed my inner thighs. His deft thumbs rolled circles on my nipples. I was already arching and relaxing. I was used to this, I didn’t feel a need to make it explosive because it was good every time.

“Yesssss, yes,” I gasped breathily. Timothée tongued at my clit for a bit before covering his fingers in the warming lube.

“Oh!” I jolted, my legs nearly closing as I felt the slick and tingling lube.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Timmy calmed me like a scared animal. I closed my eyes so I could relax again. His lips kissed up my stomach. He was leaving kitten licks and pecks. My breathing was getting to that familiar pant he made me do.

He nibbled at the place on my neck that made me crazy. My walls squeezed his long fingers. I let out a wanton whimper. My hands were all over him. Finally, his lips touched mine. I dove into the kiss.

I was pressing myself against him as much as I could. Somehow he was putting all of himself into this. I felt the warmth of his love and satisfaction with me. I could have cried. I’d been so lovely and anxious lately. He was making me completely melt.

He was kissing me with such adoration I hardly noticed when his hand changed over to his cock. He was milking the lube onto himself. I was shuddering at sounds of wetness.

“Want to try again?” He asked in a voice low and rumbling with need.

“Yes,” I gasped.

To my surprise he slowly, but surely, was sliding inside me. It still pinched a little but he seemed to adjust himself every so often so I wasn’t in so much pain. Finally, I felt his balls bump gently against me and I knew he’d bottomed out.

“You did it princess,” he breathed the praise. I couldn’t believe how wide I was smiling, in fact I was giggling. Timothée pressed his forehead against mine. He began to pump ever so slowly.

“Yes, yes, fuck yes,” I heaved in whispers of desperation and love.

“You feel so good. You feel like heaven,” he moaned. I loved the ways his brows furrowed in absolute pleasure.

“Fuck babbbbby,” I whined. I wrapped one leg around his waist and thrust upwards.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh,” Timothée grunted as he plunged inside me.

“So glad I could take your cock, so fucking happy I have this,” I groaned and threw my head back in bliss.

“My love, my girl,” he exclaimed and then he was all over my neck. He kissed and bit, giving me marks all over. I wanted to be littered with them. I wanted everyone to know who I belonged to. On those lonely nights when I felt like I could do anything right, I’d caress these bruises and remember this night.

“My cock belongs to you, my body, my heart, my soul,” he promised. His thrusts became faster as he fucked me. His hips snapped as he buried his face in my neck. He was mumbling praises and love into my ear.

“Gonna come,” I whispered.

“Let go on my dick for the first time,” he practically begged.

“Yes, oh fuck, my love, I’m fucking coming!” I cried out and arched against him. I felt my whole body tighten and then delicious release. I saw stars as every part of me exploded with intimate exhilaration.

Wetness and his own release mixed together. He was kissing me over and over as if it were all he knew. He had orgasmed as well, filling me with his gratification.

We were laughing now, all the stress falling away. It was sweet breathy kisses and whispered thanks to one another. It was like we were afraid to break the golden moment and the dreamy haze that surrounded us.

“Thank you my love. If you need it, I’ll carry you around tomorrow you will likely be sore,” he explained. He took my hand in his as he began to pull out.

“Cocky bastard,” I teased in a tight voice.

“I’m so happy I got to do that with you, so you can call me whatever you like,” he told me as he got the cloth to clean me and him up.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[the-lord-of-the-things]

a better view of the design for that Corrupted By Chronos Zagreus cause most of it got covered up in the first pic various spoilers for Hades II under the cut as I ramble about this whole general idea

The basic jist for how I imagine this au/idea playing out was Chronos having trapped Zagreus in time and forced to relive the basic events of the first game- discovering his parentage, trying to escape and inevitably dying- over and over and over until it effectively broke him.

With his recollection so utterly distorted, Zagreus was left consumed with rage and hatred towards his own loved ones over the suffering he endured while trapped in the hell of Chronos' making. From there, it was easy for Chronos to manipulate him into the perfect loyal servant. A formidable weapon that could be brought to bear against all who would oppose all who would oppose him, including his own flesh and blood. The inspo mostly came from a mix of the Asphodel level Chronos tries to trap Melinoe in, a line from Chronos about how he'd "break you too", and the fact that, as of writing, after you beat Chronos you exit through Zagreus' room, prompting Mel to go "You--" before the damage sound effect plays and you return to base.

Which is why I like to say this is a Crack Theory Until Disproven. We don't know that it can't happen, yet.

Joke aside, it'll certainly be debunked with full release, but its still a fun AU to ponder. Especially the possibility of how he could be snapped out of it, cause no matter how thoroughly Chronos has him brainwashed, Zagreus is incredibly willful as we all know, and there'll always be cracks in the story.

[fairyrcts]

dreams, fairytails, fantasies , n.d.

by fairyrcts contents - intended lowercase , 3rd person , use of y/n , unprotected sex (not recommended) , cursing , praising , semi-public sex , male masturbation , virginity loss (not mentioned) , mommy kink , overstimulation, breeding

(an - ik y'all said you wanted chris fic first but i was too eager to write the nate one)

y/n walked up and down the rows of seats as she tidied up after the hockey game.

her father was the coach, so she always stayed later after the games to pick up anything left behind and help her dad with whatever he needed.

she'd bent down to pick up a foam glove that was left. her light blue mini skirt rode up her thighs as she reached down.

nathan, who was taking off his gear in the bench area, had thought everyone including y/n had left.

he'd always see her with her dad during the pre-game pep talks, sometimes she'd sit and watch them at practice, or just cleaning up after everything had been finished.

although the only thing he knew about the girl was her name and father's name, he had the biggest crush on her.

he'd glance over at her in her skirts and lacy tops or tight, soft colored dressed that made him want a taste of every curve on her body. her innocence and naivety made him want him for himself even more.

nathan stood up with his skates and pads in his hands. he walked out of the closed in area and into where the seats were. he glanced around for a sec before his eye's landed on y/n.

unknown to him, y/n had a slight thing for him too.

when he'd take off his helmet and his hair would stick to his forehead as he panted. or when he'd take his jersey off after playing and he'd be left in his white tanktop, his mucles shining due to the sweat.

she'd direct her gaze towards him every time she'd watch the team play or practice. seeing up get sweaty and angered out on the ice had the be one of the most attractive thing ever.

she was bent over, picking up things from the floor. her skirt was way up and her pink lacy panties caught his attention.

he was in a state of shock for a moment as he stared at the unaware girl in front of him.

he walked closer, decided to speak to her.

"hey, y/n. i didn't know you were still here." nathan spoke in breathy tone, causing y/n to whip around.

"hm? oh, yeah. no, he left a little bit ago but there was still stuff to be cleaned up. you did really good by the way. my dad says you're pretty talented." she gave him a toothy smile as she talked to the brunette.

nathan's grin became wider as those words came out her mouth. "thank you, really."

"yeah, anytime. well, i'll be here for a bit longer, so if you need anything just let me know." she was a very generous person.

generous enough to help with the ache in his pants? no, no, he shouldn't be thinking that stuff.

"will do. nice seeing you." he reciprocated her smile and made his way toward the locker room.

nate immediately yanked his clothes off, tughing his pants off as quick as possible.

he sat on the bench in the locker room as he pulled his boxers down to his ankles. his tip leaked pre-cum, it dripping down his length.

he balled his hand into a fist and began stroking himself. he was so sensitive just his own touch caused him to moan out loudly.

he let a line of drool leave his mouth and onto his dick. "mm, fff-uck, y/n. i- holy shit, keep goin'."

he imagined y/n's mouth on his cock, her throat stuffed and her lips puffy from his length.

y/n finished cleaning the bleachers and made her way towards the garbage can that sat beside the entry to the mens locker room.

she threw away all the trach she'd collected and was getting-ready to leave til' she heard her name being called.

"mm, y/n. jjust like that, yes ma'am."

she tightened her thighs together to keep her mind away from the wetness in between them.

she cracked the door open slightly, nate's head turning the second he heard the creak of the hinges.

"i- i'm sorry, i didn't know you were in here. sorry." her words were rushed as she shut her eyes abruptly.

nathan panicked to get his boxers back on. "no, shit. no, uh, youre good."

"uh, were you calling me?" she asked, her voice unintentionally innocent as she opened her eyes slightly. her eyes went wide at the sight of his dick, fully visible from his boxers, a small wet stain were his tip sat.

"uh, nope. wasn"t callin' ya. must've been like, uh. i dunno." nate's eyes looked everywhere but her as if trying to take away the attention.

y/n let out a soft giggle at the sight of him awkwardly trying to end the damn conversation. "i mean, it's alright. you're not very quiet. do you, uh.. need some help?"

her tone sent aches through his body, his cock pulsing through his underwear. "i-i, i'm sorry? say what now?!"

she chuckled once more at his stuttering voice. "c'mon, just sit back. let me show you."

nate thought he was living one of his own fantasties as he wobbled back onto the bench beneath him.

y/n undid the bow in the back of her shirt and pulled down the skirt she wore with it. she was left in her bra and panties, which she took off slow and seductively.

she now stood naked in front of the brunette boy. nathan's eyes just stared at her as he was frozen and stiff. if you squint, you could see his dick get even harder under his boxers by the second.

she scooted closer to him. "wanna take it off for me?" her voice was low as she played with the waistband of his underwear.

"i-yup." his obedience was so attractive. she knew he'd listen well.

he quickly yanked them off before sitting back on the warm bench.

y/n straddled him, his dick not in her cunt quite just yet. she began sucking on his neck to get him just a bit more excited before finally letting her hips move down onto his soaked cock.

the sound of her dripping pussy and his absolutely messy cock made nate's mind fuzzy.

he let out a loud, guttural moan at the new feeling. "holy fuck, mommy- fuck! i-"

he couldn't even form a coherent sentence just one pump in.

"just relax. i've got you." her words were hushed as she whispered into his ear.

she slowly moved her body up and down his length, going all the way off and back on him each time.

the feeling of her tight cunt on his absolutely aching dick was already too much for him.

"mo-mmy, no, please keep goin'."

y/n couldn't say no to her handsome boy. happily, she obligiged, bouncing herself up and down on his dick.

after only a few minutes, nate was so close. "fffuck, i c-can't no more. pleasepleaseplease."

"nuh uh, you can keep going, be a good boy for mommy , hmm?"

her voice sent him over the edge. he just couldn't anymore. he needed to release and make a mess inside of her.

"pleaseee, i need to. i-i've been good!"

he had behaved and listened fine the whole time. she debated wether or not to let him or have more of her own fun.

she ultimately chose to let him for his benefit. she'd enjoyed teasing the boy enough.

"mhm, go ahead." and almost instantly, he came all inside her. the moan he let out was louder than before as he let his juices release in the girl's pussy.

"goody boy." she whispered softly in his ear before she stood up, nate wincing lightly.

"b-but, i didn't get to make you feel good."

"some other time, baby."

[stitchwraith-stingers]

(some-what of) an analysis on patty possom(?)

inspired by this post on the PE-AZ yes this episode is my fave yes i unironically love patty yes i was a fnaf kid yes i am utterly deranged

some of these r incoherent because its midnight and i wanna post this as fast as possible before i go to bed and wake up at the crack at dawn

yayyy patty ^_^

one of the first things ive noticed post becoming alive like the next frankeinstine is that her eye wasnt fixed by the mechanics, which as ill discuss later imply a sort of negligence (? i think) to the properly, i however dgaf and like to interperate this as her having a lazy eye <3

she seems to be a genuially nice person!!!! um . i dont know how to continue this paragrapth pretend theres something here thats interesting

imagine being born into the world and already having a dreadful fear of being abandoned. crazy, mustve impacted her very hard

though this probably means it gave her fake memories or she was already sorta vaugely away of whats happening?? like psudo sentient?? if that makes sense, how the hell do you know this girl, you havent BEEN to the devils sacrament

the way she goes about it and the ending shows that she has no clue on how to socialize or their cues at all, or just cuz of the pov its intentionally shown as more creepy (which it probably is, you could hear her go "where r u going :(" in a sad tone), shes a massive werido and i love her for that

point is, shes nice but has no idea how to say "nooo dont leave me haha" normally cuz she just appeared 2 seconds ago with no idea of proper communication, does that make sense..... help

heres the thing i love about this the most, shes at the end of the ep shes seen dragging background character #47 in the same tone of voice and hes seen uncomfortable. PAN TO THE NEXT SLIDE IN WHICH THEY SEEM OK IN THEIR PRESENCE

LIKE . THE GUY JUST ACCEPTS HER HAND TO HOLD WHEN SHES SHOCKED..... THEY R BESTIES AND IM TIRED OF PPL OVERLOOKING IT, and the fact that i dont think we get to see him again (cuz they couldnt fit him anywhere in the background? i think) makes it better for me, balding old guy notices furry twice his size scared of being left alone so he decides to stay here just for her.... MANNN

the general area

lets see, were right off the bat were introduced to a good few places, the fun tunnels, the game zone, a claw machine thats rigged, the place with the signature snack which i wont go over because thats kinda of its own gag but its sticky and probably unhealthy, and the main stage

i assume the fun tunnels are made with a holograpthic effect inuniverse, and i think theres some LED lights in there to make it glow, i was going to say its polyethylene plastic but i dont think that exists google stock photos lied to me, also not related but it looks like a horrible spray paint job was done on this thing lol

also acording to the lyrics theres supposed to be 3 more members, a raccoon, cat and turtle . i dont think we see craggle in photo though rip (if theyre not a sphyinx ill be dissapointed), tyrone seems to have a 60's? aesthetic going on, rascal has a punk aesthetic going on and patty has a more modern aesthetic ? i think, the spiked collar is throwing me off

from winns dialouge in the start implying that they havent been here in a good while ("when i was little" ur in 5th grade) and the fact that their instruments are still there, then this was probably a recent desicion, or atleast long enough for a 10 y/o that hasnt been here in awhile to be upset by this and for patty to be immediatly spawned in with abandonment issues

along with a rigged claw machine and the snack i think it implies that the people over there who own this establishment are probably really cheap, and the fact that the PRAMBY snack is really sticky is definatly going to cause some health issues down the line, something something fazbear entertainment

oh and also, theres like a split second frame where this shows up, obviously its just there as a morbid joke but atleast it shows us this establishment is atleast old enough to have someones decaying body be bone by now, which after writing that makes me sound stupid because skeletonization might not take as long as i thought it would ("3 weeks to several years" depending on the surroundings)

whoever was there seemed to have been stuck for 25 days at least and has gone undetected, which means this place is linked to one unsolved missing persons case and they dont have a clue (most likely), also theres ballpit balls inside this thing i fucking guess?? theres no actual ballpit in the place idk what this kid was doing

i have tried to make up a map of how the place looks but im always bad with rooms ? and i had to take a fewwww small creative liberties with this cuz i couldnt figure out where theyd be but close enough👍👍

[kenvamp]

may I humbly request more Four :D (maybe him with shadow?)

Shadow teaching Vio the acts of villainy (ft. The cain of Pacci)

[infinizero]

Demon Twin AU but Damian has been seeing ghostly visages of his twin slowly growing up with him

So, the Danny Damian Twin AUs! They're fun!

But what if, when Danny fakes his death/is killed, he actually dies and becomes a halfa as a kid? Danny because he is Danny, has the great idea to live a double life upon figuring out he can be both ghost and human!

As a human, he goes to America where he gets adopted by the Fentons and live as Danny Fenton

I headcanon that halfas are very adaptable and basically get powers according to their needs. So he figures out how to portal.

As a ghost, Danny stays around Damian and helps him out. Sometimes he slips up and Damian sees Phantom right next to him.

To Damian, this is the Pit Ghost of his brother who has come back to haunt him, made even worse when he realizes that Danny is also growing exactly at the rate he was despite being dead. He thinks that Dannys last wish was to grow up with Damian that's why he's doing that.

It gets even worse for Damian when he realizes the ghost of his dead twin brother has been helping him invisibly the entire time and it's possible that that's why Danny's staying around

Now, I need you to picture one of the Batfam seeing Danny

Imagine them asking him about it

Imagine Damian having to explain that the ghost of his dead brother sometimes accompanies him

Of course, on Danny's human side of things, the Fentons finally made that portal and he has to take up being a hero in Amity Park. Meaning he has less time to look over Damian.

What does this look like to Damian?

It looks like his brother is fading away slowly because Danny's decided Damian is now in a safe place

This all comes to a head when Danny disappears for a long time, long enough for Damian to think he's gone gone

And then Danny comes back and he's injured or maybe he has a baby Ellie and for the first time in years actually talks to Damian and asks for help

[toadlilyaus]

Incredibly self-indulgent quick sketch of the ot3 rare pair (trio?) that is Jean/ Neil/ Andrew; cause I feel like y'all ain't seeing the vision lol

If it ends up winning the poll maybe I'll get around to cleaning this up a bit and adding color and such, but for now this is all we get 😘🦊🦊🐦‍⬛🔑

[killerdykepdf]

[whitmore]

charlie slimecicle slash lore very clearly knows codeflippa isn’t juanaflippa somewhere inside of him. the specific avoidance of questions with codeflippa points us in that direction and is further confirmed by the direct questions he asked juanaflippa today during dia de los muertos— are you safe? are you in a happier place? he’s not in any level of denial barring performative, he’s just willing to settle for a codeflippa rather than no flippa at all, and that’s paraphrased but he’s said something very akin to it out loud. plus today he realized that if the missing eggs don’t have ofrendas they’re likely still alive, and i think to some end even after really processing that his current flippa isn’t the original juanaflippa, he’d still want her around emotionally to cope with the possibility of bearing witness to everybody else’s real egg reunifications. mariana isn’t around, his entire family was fundamentally gone at one point. he doesn’t want to have nothing again. and if codeflippa leaves, he’s left with nothing. again.

[phantompages]

Same Age AUs are so fascinating to me, and of the ones I've seen I really like them. In particular if we have Reigen and Shigeo both as middle schoolers because instead of an older mentor figure Shigeo is ending up with another kid. He gets to have a friend his age who gets to drag him around to do stuff and it's nice, really nice to have a friend he can relate to. Meanwhile Reigen has soooo many ✨issues✨ but hey he's great at bullshitting and is getting Shige to open up some more, while on the flip side he's also getting a friend and can go out and do more now that he has someone to do stuff with. Plus they make great business partners so this is going amazingly :D

Another version I like is if this is the result of some time travel shenanigans, mostly because I like seeing a more stark contrast between kid Reigen and adult Reigen, especially through Shigeo's eyes because... this isn't his shishou, not exactly, because kid Reigen doesn't have the years of life experience that helps his words hold more meaning, even if kid Reigen is still a great talker and bullshitter. He can't say everything right that Shige needs to hear and its a bit off putting, especially if kid Reigen has different views on being "special" and whatnot (considering... "I want to be someone"). But there's still elements there that is just so Reigen in the way he talks and the way he moves that its like. Yeah, this is a kid, but it's the same person and everyone can see just how Reigen is, this is how he started. He's not Shigeo's shishou but he's still Reigen.

[positivityjediprince]

Bo-Katan asking Din where he was when Mandalore fell cause she has no idea how old he is opens the door for some golden mandolorian comedy/crack.

Like how many times do people completely misplace how old someone is? Like we have oh no they're hot memes when mandos take off their helmets BUT what about:

"Oh gods you're a child! Isn't it past your bed time! Go home! Here's some choccy milk!"

"Oh my ..you're like much older...I um thought you were my age...oh it's definitely not a deal breaker!!"

"A bAbY!!???"

"A MILF??!!!"

"Hmm..." "What?" "You're so annoying I just assumed you were a really skilled 17 year old" "IM 37!!!!!!!"

So many possibilities for nonsense!

[chirpsythismorning]

☎️🎲 🤼‍♂️ ✈️🚪 ➡️ 🫀🎮⌛️

Slipping Through My Fingers by ABBA

previous ⏮️ now playing ⏭️ next back to playlist

[salsa-di-pomodoro]

Girlies and pals of all genders i have come to two possible conclusions; i either have some form of PMS or submas angst is taking a worse toll on me than i realized,

(for not strictly legal reasons this is a joke. I have no idea what having pms looks or feels like so this might just be a normal girl thing. God do i wish i could get rid of it though it's real hard to filter content in a way that allows you to consume it at the right time to avoid triggering a (minor) depressive episode while hiding it when you cant handle it. I'm tired. I've taken to just avoiding scrolling the tag at all sometimes out of anxiety. I can't even read my followed fics sometimes out of fear of angst.)