#innuendos galore

[calilk]

well that’s a sentence and a half

[theheartneverliez]

Reese’s bread

Nom nom !!!!

[hart-on-my-sleeve]

Ace: "I can't bite the hand that feeds me, man." (talking about Roddy) Gene: "I think it might be the hand that uh, pinches you on the... keester." Ace: "Gene, Gene, Gene... Everything with you is so sexual! You sick little man you!!" Gene: "Don't be hitting him in the queue." (Gene PLZ)

Ace: "Okerlund, if I was going to give you money, you know where I'd shove it? I'd shove so much money you'd have to walk on stilts for the rest of your life." Crowd person: YEAH NAIL HIM, ORTON!! Ace: "I'm standing here with my stick in my hand, so to speak."

6 18 1986 TNT

[a1ecmcdowell]

dean winchester x angel!reader — innocence is a virtue.

or, how on earth is he supposed to corrupt you? you? or, dean's newest passenger princess is killing him slowly and violently.

cw, fluff but with sexual elements. mostly fluffy though. reckless driving DO NOTTT do this!! professionals only!! dirty minded!dean. honestly just horny!dean really. innuendos galore.

word count : 2.9k

notes, guys can i be so honest i have not even gotten to the seasons where angels come into spn. this is all based on the lil bits n pieces i know of the future stuff ok. ik i'm a fraud but BE GENTLE IF IT'S OOC OR ANYTHING < /3

req. by anon & in honor of kas's dean & angel fics bc i LOVEEE them

★ ˚⋆

dean, honestly, had never met someone quite like you. when he'd told cas in passing that he was about the most naive, innocent thing he'd ever met, all he did was give him one of those looks he reserved only for dean. he thought, then, that it was just because he was being a bit of a shithead, and cas was telling him without telling him so.

very quickly, he found out how wrong he was about both of his assessments.

the day you came down to earth and graced everyone, literally, with your presence, dean was smitten. never before had he met someone so sweet. so honestly pure. until you, he thought that purity was nothing but an ideology based on impossible feats. a pipe dream and a half for the faithful. no, the reality was that he just hadn't met you yet.

sam was pouring himself into research, too focused to realize that dean was all but whittling away in his starvation, so when he offered to go grab some cheap shit from the diner a few minutes from the motel, all he got in response was a mumble of agreement and a wave of his hand from him.

but you, who'd been sitting on the motel bed, stiff as if you had something stuck up your ass holding you in place, turned to him and asked to come with. that struck dean off kilter immediately, because he hadn't been asked for anything in a long ass while. sam just usually assumed he'd be writing shotgun wherever they went. john — no, he'd never ask his son anything, usually buried that sentiment in harsh demands and orders. cas asked him lots of questions, but permission was not often one of them.

and when he looked at you, read over your features and saw the genuineness in your wide, expectant eyes... god, how could he say no?

so you sat there in the passenger seat. dean had to buckle you in with a joke that flew right over your head — another joke you would not get, even though he was fucking killing it with them right now — about not wanting to send you flying if they got into a wreck.

you proceeded to unbuckle and buckle and unbuckle again a few times, seemingly fascinated with the click of the mechanism. dean wanted to be annoyed. genuinely. if sam had started pulling this shit, dean would have pulled over and drove a few feet ahead as a warning to cut it the fuck out.

but with you, it was adorable in its own right. god, it was! somehow it surprised you, every time it clicked, even if you'd already done it eight times. like, how did anyone expect him to get pissy at you when you were doing those sharp, surprised gasps every few seconds? a few more times and he'd be pulling over to give you something to gasp at, he thought idly.

and then winced, scrunching up his face, when he realized how deep in the gutter his head was. no, he wouldn't touch you. wouldn't even try to plant that idea in your pretty little head.

dean didn't want to corrupt you. if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he wanted to keep that pretty little head as clear as his nose was, alright? he wasn't going to be the one to break you into what this world was, its hardships and its cruelties — and its more deviant pleasures.

but fuck, you made it so hard to keep his head straight.

you did this thing, he realized too, on that silent, clicky drive, where you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth when you were in deep thought. thought about what, fuck if he knew, because if you said something to him in the moments that he watched you do it, he'd never know. he was watching your mouth but not to listen.

dean was about to start reprimanding himself in his head, for what must have been the third time already, when you said something, nearly making him slam on the brakes in his surprise.

"how are you doing this?" you asked, as if that wasn't the vaguest question he'd heard in his entire life.

dean blinked a couple of times as he waited for elaboration that never came. he switched hands on the steering wheel, resting his right loosely over the gearstick. "doing..." he trailed off, shaking his head slowly in a gesture to make you keep talking, "what, exactly?"

you did not catch the hint, and he was probably a fool for expecting you to. it took a few more seconds of you staring very intently at his thighs for you to speak up, and by then, he was fucking squirming in his leather seat, trying to not let it get to either of his heads that you were so blatantly staring at his dick.

"this," you answered, twinges of frustration evident in your tone. he couldn't blame you. he was getting frustrated in this car ride, too. "making it move."

christ. he was going to hell. he was going to hell again, this time because of his own drifting thoughts.

"you're gonna have to be a little more clear, dove," he managed through his teeth, voice strained, "'cause i don't think we are on the same train of thought right now."

another blink, and another few seconds pass. your hand shot up in his direction and he flinched, honestly flinched, convinced from the filthy thoughts circling in his head that you were about to grab him by the—

"this," you repeated, and he almost bristled at the attitude, almost told you off about virtues or whatever, when he finally got it. your arm stuck out in gesture to his legs, which pushed the gas pedal and rested against the doorframe, as he drove.

dean closed his eyes briefly, metaphorically swapping his metaphorical wrist for his headspace. he was not, was not, the person that should be introducing you to this world.

dean shifted again, bringing his left leg closer to the leather seat as he readjusted into more of a comfortable position. he hadn't even realized how tense he'd gotten on this short car ride until now. he was as straight backed as you were, and breathing just as slow. "driving?" he asked anyways, like an idiot.

"driving..." you repeated, like the word was as fascinating to you as the process was. "how?"

the diner sign was right there. it was teal and glowed, retro in style, announcing benny's bistro as open.

he drove past it.

dean knew that you did not sign up for a driver's ed course with him with your question, knew even more that he was risking his baby for a pathetic attempt at flirting with someone who did not even know the definition of the word, but to hell with it. you'd asked to come along with him, and therefore placed yourself in his hands for his guidance. the least he could do was make some sort of effort, couldn't he?

"c'mere," he grumbled once he'd pulled baby off into an unassuming back road, parking it dead in the center. you'd need all the open space. he patted his spread thighs a couple of times.

your stupidly pretty pink lips sucked into your stupidly straight teeth. fuck. "why?"

"just—" he cut himself off when he realized he was about to get snippy. you didn't deserve snippy. he was just hungry and horny and you were pretty and he was...

he was pathetic. looking for reasons to get you into his lap. he'd already been to hell, what are they gonna do, drag him back by his ear?

"just do it," dean finished on a sigh, his hand dropping to the front of his leather seat, grabbing the handle and shoving the seat back as far as it could go. there you were, staring at his dick again, making him feel hotter and more bothered.

he felt his heart stop solidly in his chest when you started to climb over the middle console, so oblivious to the faceful of ass he was getting. dean was practically praying to god at that point. he knew he'd been a shit until then, and definitely a sinner by every means, but if he could grant him a little fucking strength—

you plopped your happy little ass right between his muscular, jean-clad thighs. you were warm, was his first thought. he was screwed, was his second.

"what now?" you asked him, that innocent lilt to your voice as you did, and he felt like a dirty little freak for wanting to bend you over the steering wheel moments before ( who was he kidding? for still wanting to bend you over the steering wheel ).

dean took both of your hands and placed them on the steering wheel. once he'd closed your fingers around the wheel, he dropped his hands to your thighs.

"this one," he patted the left one, and nearly went molten behind you, when you lifted that thigh and placed it on his palm. "nuh uh," he tried to lightly correct, "this one you don't use. jus' keep it out of the way." dean's voice was strained in his ears, in his throat.

you slipped your thigh out of his grasp, pressing it up against the inner of his own thigh, your foot tucked around his ankle. you were so trusting and compliant. he was so, so screwed, and so, so awful for thinking about breaking that sweet naivety.

"this one," he said, patting your right thigh, and when you didn't move it this time, he smiled, just a little, to himself. "you use to make it move."

the flush on your cheeks that followed his tease was so damn pretty it took his breath away.

he lifted his leg, not able to reach the pedals with you sat between them and his seat all the way back. he pointed his boot at the left pedal, knowing you were watching each of his movements intently. "that's the stop pedal. push it down to stop." he repeated the process he'd done with your legs, boot pointing at the right pedal as he explained it. "that's the ignition."

pause.

"that's the go," he corrected, sparing you any momentary confusion and any more questions, he hoped. dean could not keep sitting here idle with you between his legs. "makes the car drive. harder you push, faster it goes."

hell, hell, hell. he wasn't going to hell, because he was already in it, strung up and burning.

"i'll handle the gears," he added quickly, when he caught your head turning downward to the shift stick. "don't wanna overwhelm that pretty little head of yours, dove, with too much at once."

dean rested his right hand on the gear stick, his left hand gripping the handle on the driver's door for dear life. he needed the support; you were driving him up a wall with his claws out, and you were about to be driving him. driving his baby. it took a lot of coaxing from sam for dean to let sam behind the wheel. all you did was ask how do you make it move? and he was letting you drive.

you. who did not even know what a car was. who was learning how to drive literally that moment.

god help him. he'd prayed more in this fifteen minute drive than he had in years.

you pressed down on the gas pedal, and the car revved all pretty and loud. dean watched with bated breath as the response to your efforts registered in your head, the way your eyes lit up in that curious glimmer, the fucking teeth biting on your lip.

once you let up, he pushed on the gear stick's release, and tugged it down from park to drive. the car slowly began to move down the dirt path.

you slammed the brakes so hard that his head knocked into the back of your shoulders. "fuck, dove, gentle."

and you were, when you shifted your foot over to the gas pedal again. you pushed it down on it tentatively, the car starting to glide down the dirt road, the sound of pebbles grinding beneath the tires.

"better," he mumbled in your ear, leant forward to keep his eyes on the windshield. it's not that he didn't trust you, he just... yeah, he didn't trust you. "just like that, dove."

the praise, though, goes in one ear and out the other, because the gentle ease of baby's tires along the road is interrupted by you slamming the gas. the tires squeal. clouds of dirt and dust puff out from behind the car as it takes off.

dean's heart went from in his ass to in his throat in a manner of a second. "whoa, whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed, a nervous laughter bubbling out of his throat. "slower, slower, will ya? crashin' in the middle of nowhere is the last—"

you hit the brakes again, still hard but less this time. just enough to send his head knocking into your shoulder again as the car slowed.

slowed, but still headed toward the ditch. "right, see your hands?" he asked, chin nuzzling into the plush spot between your neck and your shoulder so he could see better. "twist 'em. nice n' gentle for me, to your left, yeah, good girl. makes the whole car move, yeah? jus' keep it on the dirt, not off "

you follow his instructions, and dean feels a swell of pride at this. maybe he should have gone into driver's ed or some shit. he was a good ass teacher.

"like this?" you asked, drawing him out of his self glazing. your voice, soft and hesitant, breathless with your excitement, has his chest heaving.

"yeah, dove, jus' like that," he rasped, his left hand moving from the doorframe to rest where your thigh met your hips. the car kept its slow pace down the long dirt road, and for the first time since you'd gotten your hands on the wheel, his heart doesn't feel like it's pounding in his throat. "no, no, don't stop. keep goin', you're doing so good for me."

his phone starts to buzz in his pocket, and like that, his self indulgent driver's ed lesson comes to a screeching halt. "you jus' keep on going like this, alright?" he asked you, patting your hip with his hand before he reluctantly let go.

he definitely answered the phone with more attitude than necessary. couldn't help it. he was having a great time. "what, sam?"

"everything alright?" sam asked, and then dean felt like a prickhead for giving him shit at all. "s'been thirty minutes."

dean sighed, his eyes lifting again to look out the front windshield. a stop sign was quickly approaching, and you didn't even need his guidance for that. you were slowing to a stop all on your own. he was so fucking proud, it was sick. "all good. long line at the burger place."

it was dead empty, four miles back.

"we'll be back in a few, alright? chew on one of your books or somethin' while you wait, make 'em useful."

"dean—"

he hung up before he could hear sam's sighed response.

his hand fell to your waist again, squeezing lightly to stop you from lifting your foot off of the brake just yet. "play time's over. calvary's callin' us back."

dean pushed the gear stick into park again before he moved both of his hands to your hips, helping guide you back into the passenger seat.

he adjusted the seat again, his hands finding their typical place on the wheel. he did a very illegal u-turn at the four-way intersection and headed back down the road that you'd driven him down.

"have fun?" he asked after a beat, eyes flicking over to see you. you looked so pretty in the orange glow of the sunset, your face lit up in deep gold.

you turned to meet his eyes, and he had to look away quickly, the bright glimmer of adrenaline in them knocking all the wind out of him. "yes."

"good." dean meant it. there were so few things he'd risk everything for, but that toothy smile of yours jumped to the top of that list.

"dean?" your voice rung out again, earning him another glance your way in acknowledgement. "what part of the car was in my back the whole time?"

dean faltered, eyes blinking in a bout of surprise and lips parting, searching for a response he did not have. his eyes dropped down to his lap for a second, dread and embarrassment pooling like ice water in his stomach at what he hoped wasn't— yeah. yeah, it was.

"i dunno, dove," he mumbled through his teeth, staring straight ahead, fingers tapping on the steering wheel, doing basically anything to not meet that curious look of yours. especially knowing you'd have your lip in your teeth all over again. "might have t'take it to the shop, while we're in town... get it checked out or somethin'..."

he was so damn screwed.

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4nicholas @deanswidow @deansbite

[luveline]

I love your writings about the marauders, and I recently had a thought about the boys first coming in contact with a vibrator or any sex toy really. Not even a like smut thing but just then walking into a muggle sex shop or they made a friend with a muggle girl and they stumble upon in some way lol idk, just a funny thought that’s been making me giggle a bit. If you have any thoughts I guess?? Hope you have a good day :)

this isn’t smut but it is explicit - mdni please! fem, 1k

“What is that?” Sirius asks.

You get yanked back. “God, sorry,” James says, letting go of your hand. You’d been in a weird fugue state of joy with his fingers twined in yours; it’s the first time he’s held your hand. You can’t tell if it’s platonic or romantic, you can never tell with the boys. “Wait, what is that?” 

“What’s what?” you ask, trying to follow their gaze. You’re on a crowded high street divided by a two way road. It’s so loud you can’t hear yourself think, and stopping as you have has diverted foot traffic around you poorly. 

“There’s a cock in the window.” 

Remus yelps a laugh. You smile, befuzzled, as he takes your shoulders into his hand and turns you bodily to the right shop window. “Oh,” you say. “Oh! There really is.” 

There is a vast array of the aforementioned appendage in the window, and in a variety of sizes and colours. A mannequin in dark lingerie holds a fifty percent off sign to the left, while a poster brags a multitude of ‘stimulating pleasures’ to be found inside. 

“What am I looking at?” Sirius asks.

You forget sometimes how sheltered they all are. They’d gone to a rather elite boarding school, and they all lived in rural England and Wales for their summers. This is as city as they’ve ever been, and you’d thought they’d seen everything there is to see by now, but apparently not. 

How are you supposed to explain a sex shop? Better, why is fate making you? They all turn to you for an explanation. 

“Remus, you’re twenty three,” you say hopelessly. 

“We’ve only recently relocated,” Remus argues. 

“You’ve known me for six months. You’ve lived here for eight.” 

“And yet we’ve never seen that,” James says, pointing at the lingerie. “You’re such perverts in the city. Why are there rainbow cocks in the window?” 

“Can we stop saying that?” you ask. 

“Sorry,” James says quickly. “Lovely girl, why are the dicks in the window?” 

“They’re toys,” you say, feeling a little part of yourself shrivel away in shyness, their eyes like heat from your face and neck. 

“For kids?” Sirius asks, disgusted. 

“No! God, no, they’re for grown ups.” You shake your head uselessly. “Are you messing with me? You’ve really never seen them?” 

“We’ve seen some rather tasteful underwear in our time,” Sirius says, to James’ delight and Remus’ derision. 

“Stop,” Remus says. 

“We have to go in. I must understand these toys,” Sirius says, ignoring him with ease. There’s something to his usually nice smile you don’t know, some burning excitement that will likely end in innuendos and teasings galore for you. 

You make your way into the sex shop, shoes dragging, cheeks hot. James and Sirius seem as though they could burst into laughter at any second, but Remus is more understanding. He offers you his hand when he realises you’re behind them. You don’t have the strength to refuse him. 

They’re the weirdest friends you’ve ever had, but also the best ones. They love holding hands and crossing legs and laying half on top of each other when they come around to watch a film. You’re pretty sure you saw James and Remus kissing a few weeks ago, but they’ve yet to say anything about it to you, so what do you know? You’d been jealous, but each boy has continued to love on you just a little too much considering the parameters of your ‘friendship’. 

This lies firmly outside of your parameters, you decide. 

Sure, you’ve thought about them sometimes as more than friends, but they don’t know that. Can you be blamed? They’re all so handsome in awful ways —Remus classic, Sirius Grecian, and James devilish. James. You shake your head in an attempt to dispel thoughts of their good looks while in close proximity to lacy knickers, turning your attention to the ridiculous gasps of awe the two idiots are letting out. 

“What is that?” Sirius asks delightedly, knuckling at a row of plastic sex toys, all with different functions. 

“That’s a…” You blow a breath up your face in an attempt to cool down. “Read the label, Siri.” 

“Most of this stuff is for girls?” James asks you. 

“I guess so.” You poke at the pink packaging of a glass massage wand. “I mean, not always. I think anybody can use all this stuff too. Or most of it.”

“What about that?” 

James points at a vibrator in clear blister packaging. “A vibrator? What’s that do?” He turns to you with a surprisingly innocent curiosity. 

“It vibrates.” You don’t want to say anything else, but they’re your friends. They’re nice to you, and they respect you, so it’s not like you think telling them these things will put you in an uncomfortable position. “You know how girls have a harder time finishing sometimes?” 

If they’re surprised to hear you say it aloud, they don’t show it. “Not in my experience,” Sirius jokes. 

“So the vibration helps?” 

“It’s very intense. It makes the… climax come much quicker,” you say. 

Remus seems very grateful for the energy your explanation takes, giving you a caring smile. He’s about to say something when Sirius interrupts, and asks, “Do you have one?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Remus says, hitting Sirius in the arm. “She doesn’t have to answer that, don’t ask her stuff like that, it’s private.” 

Sirius’ eyes go wide. “I’m sorry,” he says to you, all joking gone from his face. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just forget sometimes that you have boundaries we don’t have.” 

You’re not expecting such a genuine and sudden apology, because maybe Sirius shouldn’t ask, but you totally understand what he means. You feel like you’ve known them all your life. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I know what you’re like.” 

“So it’s a good time, hypothetically,” James says. 

“What do you reckon that feels like?” Sirius asks, already moving on. 

“Sirius,” Remus pleads. 

“Sweetheart, can I ask you, hypothetically,” —Sirius taps his converse to yours, grinning— “what do you mean, it’s quicker? How does that even work?” 

You frown, “You don’t know how it works?” 

Remus and James laugh like bellows beside you. They laugh so much the woman behind the counter glares at you all, undoubtedly tired of people coming in here for a laugh. 

“Awful girl,” Sirius says, frowning. 

You smile back. “It just stimulates the nerves, Sirius. I don’t know how to explain it. I guess it’s kinda like magic or something.” 

“Magic can’t do that,” James says. Remus elbows him hard, and you’ve no idea why. 

[sugarushwriting]

exotic dancer lee minho x reader

you just ended a relationship, your friends try to cheer you up

adult content featured, read at your own discretion

too lazy to proof read sorry

“come on it’ll be fun!”

“momo, you’re talking about male strippers!”

“ah ah, exotic dancers!” momo tsked.

momo and your three other friends dragged you into the strip club where the exotic male dancers were.

background context: you were just dumped by your fiancé of 6 months, who claimed he didn’t love you or wanted to be with you.

you both had dated on and off for 3 years, before he finally proposed 6 months ago. turns out he felt pressured and didn’t want to actually be with you anymore.

3 days ago you found him out in public with his new girlfriend. who yunjin did some digging on, and found your ex had been seeing her for 3 months.

while you two were engaged to be married.

it hurt you. you tried so hard to act like it didn’t, because truth be told, you weren’t actually happy with him. you also felt pressure and the need to be married.

you were in your late twenties, the only thing you had were your career and cats. although that was enough to you, it wasn’t enough for your parents. it wasn’t necessarily that they wanted grandkids, but someone who would take care of you once they pass on.

although you were independent, your parents didn’t want to see you grow old and alone.

inside, the club was all dark lights, poles galore, and shirtless men even more.

before taking a seat, you all stopped by the bar to grab drinks.

you weren’t complaining about the view, it’s just something you weren’t used to—or ever did.

“what am i supposed to do?” you asked lost, looking around.

momo led you and your friends to a booth, a pole and stage in the middle.

“relax, let the men dance for you, and tip!”

“do i touch them?”

“only if they invite you to.” momo winked.

you looked at the pamphlet on near the booth’s table, “it looks like this dancer’s name is, cat daddy?”

“mhm, he can be the daddy of my cat, any day.”

“sana, you don’t have a cat.”

“yes i do, and she’s purring right now.” sana laughed, mina, nayeon and momo joining in.

it took you a while to understand the innuendo, and you joined in the laughter, you all quickly quieting down when a man with cat ears came into view near the booth.

with a smirk, he bowed, his muscles showing off in the black sleeveless top he had on, and the tight black pants showing his strong thighs.

“i’m cat daddy, how can i help you beautiful ladies this evening?”

sana and mina fanned themselves, momo engaging in conversation with a pout, “our friend here just went through a terrible break up and could use a great distraction.” momo’s hands were on your shoulder to let the man know who it was.

“i’m sorry to hear that miss, but i can be of great service to distract you.”

“mhm, would you be a great service and give her a private dance? on me, of course, i’ll pay.” momo smirked, catching you off guard as your eyes went wide.

“mo—,” you went to say but she patted your bare thigh to get you to hush.

“of course, is the lady okay with that?” he turned to you, an eyebrow raised up. almost a little taunting or dare for you to say no.

“oh, yeah, i’m okay with that.” you replied.

with a smile, he grabbed your hand, your friends cheering in the back ground. the man led you in hand to the back, where many private rooms where, accompanied by a couple of guards by the main entrance.

“should i call you cat daddy? or is there another name i can use? or maybe you would like to know my name?” you rambled off. you ended up telling the man your name.

with a chuckle, he turned around to face you, a big smile plastered on his face. “i’ll all you kitten. fitting to my name, right?”

“i mean yeah—,”

“and you can just call me daddy.”

your eyes once again went wide, your body rigid at his words. not only your heart thumping in excitement, but also down south.

he pulled you into a vacant room, closing the door behind him, after turning the sign on the door, to say ‘occupied.’

he gestured for you to sit on the chair of the bed in the room.

you choose the bed as it looked the comfiest. “see, uh, i’ve never been at a place like this, so i don’t know what to do,” you rambled as you sat.

he never took his eyes off of you, like a predator stalking his prey.

you kept rambling, unaware of (or trying to ignore) him getting closer to you, soon his face right in front of yours, almost nose to nose.

“lay down kitten.”

“what—,”

you gasped when he forcefully laid you down, you suddenly sitting up on your forearms to look at him like he lost his damn mind.

that thought quickly went away, when he took off his shirt, almost teasingly, rolling his body as he did.

he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs so he stood in between them. grabbing your hands, he held them against his abs, your fingers scratching along, his head tilting back as he moaned lightly from your cold touch.

he guided your hands up to his chest, and around his neck, as he leaned down to your ear. “if you let me, i can make you forget and feel real good for whatever that ex of yours did.” he whispered, sending shivers down your body.

he leaned back to look you in your eyes, you lost in his. he looked so innocent with those eyes of his, but you had a feeling, deep down, he wasn’t so innocent when it came to bed activities.

you smirked, “as long as the ears stay on.”

he smiled back knowingly, “mhm, kitten, i knew you had a side to you that was masked by that innocent act.” he kissed your neck, and whispered, “call me minho.”

minho kissed you once, before his hands grabbed yours again, this time to his pants, wanting you to help him take them off.

you didn’t expect your girls day to turn into a girls night, let alone a night where you end up at an exotic male dancers strip club.

you didn’t expect tonight to become so entranced by a man you didn’t know, to want to know his secrets, wants, and find out why he chose this job or life.

you for sure didn’t expect to have helped a man undress, leaving on his cat ears, and he undressing you of your short skirt and top.

and lastly, you didn’t even think tonight would end up with you on your back, in said club, in a private room, having said man licking between your folds like it was his last day eating on earth.

“oh—oh my,” you gasped then moaned, your hand shooting to minho’s fluffy hair, your back arching off the bed.

his tongue worked between your folds, nose nudging your clit, fingers used to spread you more open for him.

minho hummed and moaned, quietly showing his appreciation for letting him between your thighs.

for the way he was making you feel, you wanted to thank him. ex definitely forgotten, your mind focused on minho’s tongue, the noises, and the grips his hands now had on your thighs to keep you open as you kept threatening to close the closer you got to coming on his tongue.

“minho, i’m—i’m,”

“i know kitten, let go for me, mhm?” he hummed kissing your clit, before his tongue burrowed deep in your opening, you soon becoming over sensitive.

“fuck!” you gasped out, hand gripped tight on minho’s hair, as you tried to calm your racing heart, your chest up and down.

minho kissed up your stomach, to your naked chest, deciding against overstimulating you. for now.

he licked one free nipple, then the other. he continued his way up to find your neck, his teeth latching the skin for a teasing bite.

minho sat up, knees on either side of you, you reached up to his calvin klein boxers, your fingers teasing the band. it sent chills through minho’s body, his dick becoming harder with the touch.

“don’t tease me, kitten.” he warned through a moan.

you smiled, taking out his dick from the tight black boxers, him hard and tip red, already leaking a bit of precome.

with a lick, you lightly brush led your tongue against his tip, before leaving a kiss. you pulled away, your thumb rubbing circles on the tip.

no hesitation, minho scooted closer as smoothly as he could with his boxers around his thighs, and shoved his dick in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with a gag.

you quickly adjusting yourself to his thickness, and grabbed minho’s ass in your hand as he did the work by rocking and rolling his hips against your mouth.

“that’s it baby, take all of me.” he moaned quietly, you getting wet by each second. you were ready for him to just ruin you between your legs. to leave his everlasting mark.

with spits of curses and moans, it didn’t take much longer until minho stilled and came in your mouth.

pulling out, some leaked from your lips, minho quickly running his tongue against the side of your lips before he kissed you, tongue forcing itself inbetween your lips, in your mouth.

spit mixing, sloppy and wet, minho slipped the boxers off of his thighs, never detaching his lips from yours. he laid over you, his tip teasing your folds and clit.

you bit his bottom lip, tugging it between your teeth. “ruin me. distract me more.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, as minho plunged his dick into you, no waiting for adjustment.

you let out a gasp at the intrusion, but the gasp was of pleasure, and minho hummed, loving the sounds from your lips.

“i’ll make you forget all about past men you thought could please you, kitten.” minho rolled his hips, to aim deeply into you as much as he could. he wanted to be slow first.

the way he rolled his hips, and whenever he did, hit the right spot in you.

“minho,” you squealed, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“mhm that’s it kitten, scream my name. minho—daddy, will make you forget all about those pathetic excuses of past mistakes.”

you could speak, so you just nodded. eyes closed, as tears threatened to spill at how good he was making you feel.

minho suddenly changed his pace from slow to rough. his hips snapping back before forward, your thighs wrapped around him, thigh on thigh skin slapping.

minho pulled out, getting off the bed, before he tugged you along with him.

you brain was gone dumb, as he guided you to the chair, you gripped one of the arms of the chair, minho lifted your right leg to rest on the chair as the other stayed flat on the floor.

minho plunged into you from behind, the new angle, literally causing your own pussy to squeal along with you. you gasped, mouth wide open, as minho rocked his hips from behind you, fucking into you from behind. cheeks clapping, his hand wrapped around your throat, his veins on display, as his index finger forced its way into your mouth.

you sucked on his finger, his pace never faltering, you felt your pussy leaking from all the wetness coming from you.

his other hand snuck around your body, so two of his fingers could start adding pressure to your clit, sending you to the edge.

you didn’t mean to, but you slightly bit his finger, before screaming out his name. “minho!”

your brain and mind really turned to mush, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your vision going dark.

you came hard around his dick, sure leaving a ring of white around the base.

but minho’s thrusts became rougher and sloppier, as he chased his own. he was finally overstimulating you into oblivion and submission.

one of your hand gripped the chair’s arm tightly, the other gripping minho’s forearm, he gripped your chin so your head rested against his chest, your eyes facing him the best to your ability.

your body was in a position you didn’t know was possible, back arched so much, minho loved the sight in front of him.

he loved watching his dick disappear between your folds, your ass hitting perfectly against his hips.

with one last thrust, minho grunted, pulling out to leave his come on your backside. thick and warm, he breathed heavily, as if he ran a marathon. you nearly collapsed on the chair, but minho caught you to help you back to the bed, placing you on the bed.

he grabbed some wet wipes that were placed on a table in the room (next to the condoms you both ignored) and wiped his come off of you, and wiping between your thighs gently before he cleaned up himself.

“how, how am i supposed to walk out there like nothing happened?” you groaned out, struggling to sit up.

minho laughed, “you don’t, you do the walk of shame.”

“there was nothing shameful about that.” you grinned. “other than maybe fucking in a club.” you rolled on your back, laid out.

no time to rethink life choices or reminisce about what just happened.

you had to first put your clothes (and find your underwear), then think of how to exit while steady on your feet.

it wasn’t that you were in pain, but more so still over stimulated losing feeling in your legs.

“there’s an exit out back. you can tell your friends to pick you up there if you want to avoid lookers.”

you nodded. “best idea.”

minho, back dressed, cat ears still on, he walked out to find your friends. you quickly dressed, still not finding your underwear, but did your best to look presentable.

minho walked back to the private room. “they’ll meet you out back with a rideshare. is your place far?”

you shook your head, “we rented a hotel a block away. we live about 2 hours away from here.”

“different city to avoid people you may know?”

you nodded shyly. “yeah.”

minho walked closer to help you stand up, “kind of disappointing you live so far from me kitten. i would have loved to see you again.”

you felt hot, nearly blushing. “um, you don’t need to sweet talk me. you made me feel better and distract me.”

minho’s finger went to your chin, you lift your head up to look into his eyes, “kitten, if you think i do what i just did with you, with anyone, you’re mistaken.”

he kissed your lips tenderly. “why me?” you whispered.

minho shrugged. “honestly don’t know.” he smiled when you initiated a kiss this time. “promise to come see me, again?”

“mhm, maybe.” you teased. minho gripped your hips, and you chuckled, “okay, yes, i will.”

“good. especially since i know you’ll want your blue underwear back.”

[suzypfonne]

I mean, he did offer to toss him for Edinburgh. 😏🥗

Why Crowley? What other plans did you have for your...effort? Where exactly do you feel both your efforts wouldn't be wasted hm?

[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader)

PAIRING: CHARLIE WEASLEY//YOU

PLATONIC: Fred Weasley/You, George Weasley/You, Bill Weasley/You (if you squint) Interested in Bill Weasley instead?

And I could see you being my addiction/You can see me as a secret mission

Summary:

After witnessing your cousin's beautiful and picturesque wedding on the shores of Nice, France, you return home with some sort of nuptial fever. And you aren't even afflicted by the worst of it. Your mother, Narcissa Malfoy, is consumed by the thought of you walking down the aisle. Your father, Lucius Malfoy, is no different (albeit less gentle).

Getting your parents off your back proves no easy task, and in typical (Y/N) Malfoy fashion, you get yourself in a predicament with your smart mouth. Now, you have to find a boyfriend in two weeks. With slim pickings, and a first-choice in Bill Weasley out of commission, his younger brother, Charlie Weasley falls into your lap. Almost. Literally.

Will this task of fooling your parents be as easy as it written on Romanian parchment, or will Charlie's hot and heavy demeanour ruin everything - you included?

A/N: Someone asked for more Charlie Weasley love and I had to answer to it. As you can see, I am easily persuaded. If you haven't read long hair & tattoos (Bill's version of this trope), please do. I imagine Charlie to be more flirty, forward, physical and way more devious early on, so here's hoping it'll manifest in this series. I hope you'll enjoy the callbacks to long hair & tattoos, and the subtle references!

Tags: romance, faking dating, no-Voldemort-AU (the Malfoys are still awful though).

Warnings: slight age gap, sexual innuendos, tropes galore, nudity, pureblood politics, smut, sex or descriptors of sex (indicated by *) minors DNI!

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

23, still crazy (updated September 8, 2023)

faster we're falling (updated September 19, 2023)

in too deep (updated October 5, 2023)

boys in the blue (updated October 25, 2023)

electric politics (updated November 1, 2023)

partners in crime (updated November 29, 2023)

partners in contract (updated December 31, 2023)

tea time (you’re so vain) (updated February 9, 2024)

the passenger seat* (updated March 22, 2024)

you don't own me (updated April 03, 2024)

winter wonderland (updated May 31, 2024)

mister & missus (weasley) (updated December 02, 2024)

white christmas

the loneliest hour

the best of me

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

Headcanons/ random facts with my MC and the obey me characters!

I'll write more if I can think up of other things😁

My MC licks Levi randomly knowing fully well it embarrasses him and that he gets turned on by her tongue piercing

My MC purposely teases Lucifer and becomes a brat to her best ability to get a reaction out of Lucifer

My MC is a freak and will make that shit known. Sexual jokes and innuendos galore(all consensual).

My MC cusses a lot and tries very hard not to around diavolo and barb but it does slip out from time to time.

My MC purposely tells Mammon dirty shit or embarrassing things because she likes seeing him blush.

My MC absolutely adores naps with Belphie because she sleeps a lot and enjoys her sleep a lot.

My MC despite being a freak often times gets irritated by asmos constantly touchy feely ways since she has to accept a certain person to become as unhinged as asmos to allow that shit.

My MC simps heavily for beel and everyone is annoyed by it. Beel is too oblivious so it's constant.

My MC will purposely start shit or feed into the brothers antics just to watch and entertain themselves.

My MC is very upset by diavolo's dislike of pickles and will eat them infront of him on purpose.

My MC despite all the flirting and touchy shit is very self conscious about their body so for anything sexual to be done she has to really trust who she's with.

My MC fully ogles any character if they are her type(almost every damn character)

My MC is heavily into goth/alt/rock fashion and wears fishnets, platform shoes and many other items such as graphic tees and jackets.

My MC does not wear much makeup only on her eyes which is heavy eyeliner.

My MC purposely tries to learn every spell possible resulting in many rebuilds of the house of lamentation.

My MC would be torn between devildom and the human world only because of her close family and certain friends other than that she is more than willing to stay.

My MC absolutely hates the heat and makes it everyone's problem.

[n0r]

WHY IS GAVIN THE WAY HE IS?

A character analysis

Redacted Audio is a channel full to the brim with interesting and developed characters and events that keep you on the edge of your seat with every post, however, a character that I find left me with one question Gavin, why is he the way he is?

Presented as an arrogant incubus, we meet Gavin at a 7/11 on our way to D.A.M.N. He’s teasing upon our first interaction, a harsh, almost cruel kind of teasing. He immediately labels us as a “voyeur”, and then somewhat when we ask for directions due to it not being on Google Maps, “Maybe you are as simple as you look”.

Despite this, he becomes someone the listener cares for and vice versa. When shit hits the fan with Vega, Gavin starts the audio, ‘The Cost’, his usual flirty self, attempting to watch a movie with Freelancer until Caelum shows up tired and distressed, and he immediately jumps to comfort the daemon. There's also a protectiveness for those he cares about, immediately jumping to be the line of defence when Vega shows up. Even under Vega's threats, Gaven holds his ground, stating, “I’ve been fueled by high octane freelancer energy for days now” instead of Vega, who’s practically exhausted himself chasing after Caelum. His time with the listener isn’t fueled by the need to feed, nor is it transactional; he’s with them because he wants to be.

Gavin is very drawn and motivated by those he loves and cares for, though hesitant to be open even then. He does open up to Freelancer about what aria was like, stating “I want to be a person, my own person,” that being an individual is frowned upon among incubi because he’s “supposed to exist purely for the desires of others because that’s what keeps me alive.” A struggle for identity and wanting to simply live instead of being an object of desire. He wants to love and be loved. “Gavin is the name I chose for myself,” He identifies with this, as this whole new person stating that Vindemiator is “someone else.”

He states himself that he is ‘evasive to the end.” often redirecting topics and conversation to flirting and innuendos galore. When he meets Huxley, Damien, and Lasko with freelancer for mostly the first time, freelancer asks if he’s nervous and observes that he’s tense. He immediately attempts to swerve the conversation to a sexual manner, “tense? Well, you’re welcome to help ease the tension if you’re looking to be fashionably late.”

I don’t believe Gavin is sex driven or that he thinks of it constantly. While he is something who feeds off it and someone who enjoys it, he still treats freelancer as an equal, as someone he loves and respects; as human. He left Aria because he wasn’t treated as a person, but as an object for pleasure, but upon meeting freelancer and the rest of the D.A.M.N crew, hes treated as he longed to be; human.

I think Gavin is the way he is, in all of his suave, teasing, protective, and reliable self because he’s grown used to it. He’s used to deflecting and using innuendos to lure people in because he’s been told lost of his life that that is his purpose, but we see him evolving and growing as a person the more time he spends with his “deviant” and their shared friends. More than that, we see him being treated the way he longs to be, being loved and loving others in every sense of the word love; he loves freelander deeply as both a romantic and sexual partner and a friend, we see him bug Damien (from a place of love and friendship of course), we see him bond with huxley, tease lasko, and love all 3 (4 including laskos partner dear) as both friends and family. He’s built a network of people who love and support him that he can rely on. He’s his own person, an individual now.

Analysis question offered by @breezysuffers

Proofread by @porters-fangs <333

[kickingitwithkirk]

Paschal Moon

Summary: Jensen finds crossing the tracks isn’t always a bad thing

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Astronomer!Reader

WC: 2358

Warnings: some angst, really bad punning(sorry) divorce, cheating, innuendos, cursing, reader says shit like I do IRL 😅

A/N: 10/24-I’ve fixed the grammatical errors and expanded this part, cause you know me, I can be chatty and I've written a sequel!

Square Filled: @winchesterandbeyondbingo -midnight @spnmixedbingo -secret dating @spnaubingo -wet dream @j3bingo -camping @howbadcanitbebingo -cliche galore

*Moldavite

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*no Beta-all mistakes are mine

*photos found online

It was Thursday night, and once again, Jensen found himself the proverbial third wheel. The Padalecki’s meant well, dragging him everywhere with them since he filed for divorce, wanting to keep him from brooding with a bottle when not with his kids.

And it wasn’t that Jensen didn’t mind socializing. It was knowing the evening would be filled with repetitive I’m sorry, and the look of sympathy that sent him straight to the open bar first for many a shot nowadays. 

Feeling the slight buzz he needed kicking in, Jensen put on his game face and, with another tumbler of liquid courage in hand, made the rounds, chatting amicably with various groups and catching up with old friends.

Things were going pretty well until some dumb fuck turned to Genevieve, loudly blurting they’d heard Danneel making the rounds with guys with more sizable assets was the reason for the divorce pissed off her moose-sized husband, who bellows shut your unprepossessing cake hole causes a momentary distraction allowing Jensen to escape out a nearby door before punching the sonuvabitch with the double entendre himself. 

Slamming it shut, he stomped to the riverside view, wrapping both hands around the horizontal guardrail and squeezing like he was wringing a chicken's neck when the simultaneous swish of fabric and a hand holding half a glass of liquid appeared.

“Looks like you could use this more than me.” 

Jensen’s eyes met those of the tall drink of water he’d noticed throughout the evening. Looking at the glass again made her laugh, “I’m not slipping you a Mickey.” Lifting it to her lips, he watched her throat ungulate as she drank and felt Jen Jr. rising to attention. “See, Peaches, I’m not some crazy stalker.” 

Jensen takes the glass and feels a spark when their fingers brush. “Thanks, I wasn’t thinking..that.” Throwing back the rest, he appreciates the liquor's smooth slide down his throat. “It’s been a pretty shitty evening.”

“Preaching to the choir, Peaches! I came ‘cause my second cousin on my mama’s side girl broke up with him, and now I know why.” She bends over and retrieves a bottle, giving Jensen a fantastic view of her breasts artfully showcased in her cocktail dress, and pops up, pointing the bottle at him.

 “That motherfucker thought he could pimp me out for a promotion! What the hell is it with people having a ring on it?” She grabs his left wrist, tilting it so the outdoor lights glint off the wedding band he hasn’t removed yet, “Acting like this means absofuckinglutely nothing?”

“Now you’re preaching to the choir. My soon-to-be ex was doing that while I was working in Vancouver and telling everyone it’s because I’m lacking.” Jensen couldn’t stop self-dissing since catching Danneel and one of his closest friends together.

“Hoooly shit!  You’re the guy whose wife runs around saying you couldn’t find her clit with a map, GPS, or fucking bullseye paint on it!” Jensen’s eyes widened at her audacity. “Hell, most gals just use a vibrator if they wanna get off that bad. And did you just admit your package is..?” She wiggles her pinky finger while refilling the glass, “Don’t get me wrong, no shame if you know how to use it.” 

She finally noticed his expression slapped a hand over her mouth and mumbled, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry! My mouth doesn’t know how to stop once I get started. Blame it on my upbringing.” Jensen took a drink to cover his humiliation, and a stiffener for no telling what she’d say next asked, “Upbringing?”

Removing her hand reveals a guileless smile: “You know what they say, you can take the girl outta the trailer park.” Bewilderment crossed his face to her self-deprecating response. “Yeah, I’m that relative they always warned you about.”

“Little late with the warning, sweetheart.”

She burst out laughing, and Jensen found himself doing the same.

Later

Jensen couldn’t believe it. 

In his profession, showing unscripted emotions was a sign of weakness many would exploit. Yet, here he was, a forty-three-year-old man usually in control, sitting outback of this building with a woman he’d never met before, who’d upended that control.

She was the distraction he needed before knowing it; he did something he’d never do under normal circumstances, told her everything, and got a response of, “That sucks balls, and not in a good way!”

“Kicker is; she wants alimony.”

“What a gall darn minute. You caught your almost ex doing the beast with two backs, right?” Jensen hums in response. “Peaches, I’m no lawyer, but I’d say that ain’t fucking happening,” She tips the second five-finger discounted bottle over the glass he’d again drained. “And no offense, your ex makes those whores back in Ratchet City look almost pious. Most have the decency not to fuck in your bed.”

Jensen rubbed his face, “I can’t believe I’ve told a stranger about my marital problems.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to unburden yourself to someone you don’t know.”

“I haven’t even told my family or Jared!”

“And Jared is?”

“The guy who has my back no matter what.” She ponders his response for a moment. “That’s probably why. You’re afraid that if he knows what happened, it’ll diminish how he sees you.” Jensen appeared confused. “Guys POV... if I caught my wife fucking around and saying it’s cause I couldn’t keep her satisfied in the sack, I’d not wanna discuss it either. But I know it’s,” wiggles pinky again, “Horseshit.”

“How?”

“You dress left, and I’ve never had an iPhone stand up to say hello.” Jensen struggled to formulate a coherent response. “Ahh, come on, Peaches, you know you’ve given many people wet dreams about the Ackelconda.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Cause you’ve got the juiciest peach of an ass, and I wouldn’t kick you outta bed for eating crackers,” she says, winking at him, but before he responds, they hear a booming, “Jensen!” Jared appears out the side door, walking towards them. “Fuck, man, I’ve been looking all over for you!  We need to get going; it’s almost midnight.”

“Well, pooh, and here I thought I was going to get lucky,” she says as they stand up; a ringing church bell echoes across the river twelve times. “Guess it’s time to leave the ball and head back to the pumpkin patch.” 

Walked past Jared, she nodded and was almost to the open door when Jensen yelled, “Wait!” She paused as he ran over, “You can’t leave this way. I don’t even know your name.” She held out a hand, “Give me your phone.” He unlocked it and noticed her smirk while she was typing. “Give me a ring if you ever cross the tracks, Peaches." 

Both men appreciated her retreating form when Jared asked, “Who was that?” Jensen doesn’t answer until she disappears in the crowded room, then glances at the screen and gets his you’ve got to be kidding face.

“Cinderella.”

****

Weeks later

One afternoon, they were hanging out watching football, and Jared, tired of nagging Jensen about getting back on the horse and calling her, pulled out the big guns, telling him if he was going to act like a girl, maybe he should put on a skirt and call himself Jane.

That irked an inebriated Jensen, who fumbled his phone out of his pocket, pulled up her contact info…and chickened out again, tossing it on the couch. Jared saw her number on the screen and tapped call, knowing he risked getting kneed in the nads. Two rings later, her voice came through the speaker. 

“Peaches, you’re slower than molasses crawling uphill in January giving a girl a holler.” Hearing her voice mellowed Jensen, and they agreed to meet on Friday at a hole-in-the-wall for lunch where he wouldn’t be recognized.

That lunch became dinner. Dinner became bar hopping, and after indulging in one too many, they sneaked into Blue Hole Regional Park, went skinny dipping, and did things that would scare fish. Afterward, she takes him to a Waffle House, somewhere he hadn’t been in years, for a bowl of 4 AM chili.

****

Monday morning, coffeeholic Jensen grumpily fumbles around the shoebox-sized kitchen in her hundred-year-old farmhouse, searching for a mug while waiting on an aged percolator to finish.

Bending over to look in the dishwasher, he discovers one with a rainbow-maned unicorn flipping the bird, saying, I Run On Caffeine Sarcasm & Cuss Words.  Straightening up, Jensen bangs his head on an overhanging cabinet and finds the last two words apropos. Finally brewed, Jensen steps out onto the shady front porch, sipping on the dark roast, and sits in one of the old rockers, contemplating if he’s having a midlife crisis.

They were barely acquainted twenty-four hours before they got together, in the biblical sense. He heard Dean's gravelly voice telling him to stop being a dumbass, that he deserved this after the shellacking Danneel delivered the last few months.

What astounds Jensen is that when his heart broke harder than he knew it could, she was the solace he craved, and he began to believe it would mend with her.

Jensen was nervous because tonight was extra special.

A few months back, she bounded into his home excited about an upcoming celestial event and field trip her astronomy class was taking. She really, really wanted him to go, even though they agreed to keep their relationship secret until he’d finalized his divorce. It struck Jensen that it would be the perfect night to do something he’d wanted to do since their first date, so he said yes while mentally making other arrangements for the night.

****

“Peaches, this isn’t the way.”

“We’re not going there sweetheart.”

“I realize that Captain Obvious! What I want to know, wtf?!  Are you trying to get me fired? I have a class...."

“That Dr. Carnegie is graciously covering.”

“Why is..what did you do Jensen?”

“I went to the head of your department,” she groaned, “And inquired if someone else could supervise because I’d planned a special night with my girl.”

“What happened to us keeping on the DL? Carnegie is the biggest blabbermouth! Everyone on the planet’s gonna know about us by morning!”

“My divorce was finalized this morning.”

“WHAT!” she indignantly squawked. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” Jensen bemusedly listened to her ongoing rant, eventually picking up her hand and kissing its back, entwining their fingers as he drove on for another hour to Inks Lake State Park. “Since when do you camp out?” She asks when he pays for an overnight camping permit. “Cause the one time I asked, you gave me stink face at the mention of a tent.”

“Since the day you bounded into my home all excited and asked me to come with you. I wanted to make tonight special.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I sincerely appreciate you compromising your creature comforts for me.” Jensen scratched the back of his head, “Well, it’s not technically camping out. I got an air mattress that fits in the truck bed.”

“I know it’s a yearly thing, so what makes this one so special?” Jensen asked as he gazed up at the moon awash with a vivid pink hue. The question made her lift her head from the telescope’s eyepiece, and an amused expression crossed her features.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson? Or do you want me to paint you like one of those French girls?” Jensen peers down at his unintentional position: one hand tucked behind his head, bowed legs splayed, one knee slightly bent, his other hand lying near the sliver of skin peeking out between his dark henley and well-worn jeans.

 “What makes this one so special?” She walks towards the truck, setting foot on the back bumper, gripping the tailgate, and hopping over it onto the mattress. “It is the moon's proximity to the earth.” She crawls forward, placing her hands on either side of his shoulders and slung a leg over Jensen’s hips, slowly sitting down. “Plus, being ultra-close, the color is so vivid that whatthehellisinyourpants!!”

Jensen quickly sits up, about to grab her waist so she doesn’t hit the sidewall, but she scoots down his legs. “That’d better be a sex toy in your pants and not Peyronie’s disease.” Jensen gave her a bewildered look. “What can I say? I like your cock as is. Curves just right for my pleasure.”

“Your mouth is gonna be the death of me..” “..but what a way to go?”

Jensen flopped on his back, groaning, “This isn’t how I imagined tonight going.” She smiled and crawled back over him, “So let’s pretend we’re on set. I’ve flubbed the scene and do another take.”

“That’s why I love you,” reaching up, Jensen tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The fact that everything that pops into my head comes flying out of my mouth?” Jensen chuckles at her question. “Yeah, I like you, just as you are.” He reaches into the pocket she sat on, pulls out a box, and opens it, revealing the ring he’d chosen. “And would be the luckiest man alive if you’d marry me.”

Taking her left hand, he slides it on her finger, feeling apprehensive at her silence. It is almost deafening, having never known her without any response. “Getting nervous here, sweetheart,” Jensen says as he sits up. "Look, I know we’ve only been together for a short time. I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way to answer right now.”

“What’s the stone?”

“Umm... it’s a Moldavite.” She gets that expression he still isn’t sure what to make of it. “I know it’s not conventional, and if you want to pick something else,” Jensen breaks off, watching her eyes fill with tears.

“You gave me this not ‘cause you’re being cheap. The stone, you knew what the significance of its origin would mean to me.” She cupped his cheek, “You’ve never put on airs with me, never been anything other than yourself. A genuine, caring, funny-as-hell doofus with a beautiful soul and I’m saying yes!”

Paschal Moon 2.0-coming 10/24

SPNTAGS:  @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva @lassie-bird  @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987   @smoothdogsgirl @deans-spinster-witch

[sgiandubh]

It's Innuendo Week

All the factions of this fandom are being served an extra helping of it - food for thought sterile speculation, low cost solution. Costs/impact ratio -> over the roof.

In the jungle, the mighty jungle, we have a tropical themed update (why?). The new playground is populated with inflatable animals galore:

... much ado about what probably is a coat and part of his costume, NOT a random dress...

This one could very well fit the bill, for example:

Solid innuendo always requires a sidekick and a tiny fic, too. Monkey to the rescue:

[Dear God, not That Driver again 🙄]

Impact:

Mordor: 'it's for Someone Else's Child' (nudge-nudge, wink-wink: have these women considered boring, but discriminating parameters like, for example, age of said child?)

Disgruntled Tumblrettes: ' it's to hide his Real, Gay Life under the radar, Ha-wa-wee 🐰 vibes on top' (have these women ever met a gay before?!)

Shippers (raise your hands, ladies 😉): ' it's a child's birthday', ' it's for the Blonde Bambino(s)', 'family time on set' (that is a sweet one, not to be entirely discounted, for many, many people on our side).

Fencers, at 2 PM local time (any time zone considered): ' it's for a child, but whose child?'/ at 5 PM local time: ' it's for Boo Whatever'/ at 8 PM local time: 'it's Norouzi's idea/ at 10 PM local time: 'read it through the grapevine it's the driver's granddaughter's birthday' (not substantiated) /at 1 AM local time, next day: 'will look around a bit more... I don't know what it is'/ at 2:45 AM, next day: 'zzzz' (jungle themed nightmare, pursued by an inflatable grinning monkey who sings the Skye Boat Song).

What if...

it was just the birthday of a child actor/extra on set?

it was just something for/about WWF?

it was just playing around with this entire fandom, bearing in mind Droughtlander is a reality AND boosting clicks & interest in the process?

I can understand where the family quality time on set theory might come from. I really do and no judgment whatsoever. But I would be quite reserved about S sharing something so personal, so openly, ever again on his socials. At least at this point in time.

Wide open innuendo seems to be the New Trend. Busy brains do not ask uncomfortable questions.

[loycspotting]

21. Ewan McGregor Movie Review: Down with Love (2003)

Genre: Comedy/Romance

Rating: PG-13

Director: Peyton Reed

Starring: Renée Zellweger, Ewan McGregor, Sarah Paulson, and David Hyde Pierce

Synopsis: Aspiring author, Barbara Novak, trades her small-town life for the Big Apple in order to promote her new book, "Down with Love." The book stirs up controversy with its message to help women achieve equality by saying no to love and yes to sex. When Catcher Block, resident playboy and New York's #1 journalist, is personally affected by this shift of the sexes, he plots to expose Barbara Novak as a fraud by getting her to fall in love with him.

Ewan Review: Ewan plays the character Catcher Block. Catcher is famous for being THE socialite of New York City. Women want him, men want to be him, and he's highly respected in his field as a journalist. Yes, life is perfect for him...until Barbara Novak shows up out of the blue and turns society on its head! His pride and reliance on the status quo can't bear to see this happen. So, he does what any logical man would do: wage a battle of the sexes! Ewan surprisingly speaks in his Scottish accent for this role! He also speaks in a southern accent which isn't any good, but I'm going to give him a pass this time because of the context. He has two shirtless scenes and LOTS of kissing scenes. I'm talking straight up making out, y'all. There are sex jokes galore and he gets to make his fair share of them. He doesn't have any sex scenes but he does have an implied erection scene. Lastly, he has a stellar song and dance number. His acting performance is incredible. I also just want to add that he is outlandishly handsome in this movie. I don't know how to explain it, especially because he's handsome in practically all his roles. He's a naturally handsome guy, but the way his attractiveness was amplified ten-fold in this movie did not go unnoticed by me. Please tell me if you understand what I'm talking about.

Screentime Percentage: Ewan is on screen for a grand total of 47/102 minutes making his SP 46%.

To Ewan or not to Ewan: Is the movie worth watching for Ewan in general? 1000% YES! Is it worth watching in general? Yes!

Where to Watch: "Down with Love" is available for rent on Amazon Prime Video, YouTube, and Google Play Movies and TV. You can watch it for free on soap2day.

Closing Thoughts: This movie is an homage to the sex comedies of the 1960s and is played out like one. It takes place in 1962 and the way it transports the audience back to that time is nothing short of fantastic! The costumes, editing, set design, manner of speech, soundtrack, everything down to the last detail was dripping in nostalgia and it was a blast! I feel the need to stress though that this a SEX comedy. It's about sex. It's all the characters talk about, it's the driving force of the movie, and dirty jokes/sexual innuendos are the foundation of it. Just think it over before popping it in for family movie night.

[theunholyrogue]

the guys find out you have a mask k!nk (21+ minors dni!) bayverse turts! x reader

i have not fallen off the face of the earth! i have just FINALLY found the time to write after my classes ended for summer and even though it’s not something i’d normally write, i think it’s… fitting. :) ~ + it’s not because i’m also obsessed with ghost and konig from cod haha what

⚠️: mature themes; minors dni, mentions of an obvious mask kink, sexual innuendos, the devils tango doesn’t happen here sorry guys :( #notactuallysorry, characters are all of adult age (18+)

💙Leonardo💙

You and Leonardo had always been straightforward and open, from the moment the two of you became acquaintances, to best friends, to now partners. You both felt that communication was key— a key that was necessary to keeping your relationship alive and full of excitement as well as respect (along with the other vital roles!) So, when the time came that both of you were comfortable and ready to go all the way with one another, you both had a conversation about what you were both into, not cool with, possibilities, etcs, and that was that.

Except one thing.

You had been embarrassed to admit to a certain turn-on due to the fact that you didn’t think that Leo would understand.

Masks.

He wore one everyday, how he possibly understand?

The thought drove you insane until one night, when the two of you were getting freaky and Leonardo started to undo his mask, you boldly piped up.

“Leave the mask on.”

He stared at you, almost in bewilderment before his lips twitched into a smirk. He was onto you.

He didn’t question you on it right then— oh how dare he kill the mood! No, he waited until the two of you had gone four rounds and laid next to each other, panting.

You curled up into his side and he now draped his arm over you before opening his mouth.

“Again?”

“No.”

“Alright….”

Silence.

“A mask kink, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“All I’m saying is, I could’ve gotten so much more by leaving it on than by taking it off this entire time and you didn’t tell me!”

❤️Raphael❤️

It was summertime and you had managed to be able to snag a couple of nights off to be able to spend some time with your lovely partner, Raphael.

You two had been dating roughly after the technodrome and Kraang paid a visit to NYC, and not much longer after that is when you two started going at it ya freaks. You were both secure in the relationship, both had a healthy intimate life with one another and with yourselves if times were tough.

You being you, you had an unhealthy habit of not clearing your search history after naughty content, and will tend to forget about it until you need to search something on your phone— which isn’t that common with Donnie around.

So, whilst in the midst of spending one of your summertime eves with Raphael in the confinement of your apartment, you get up to go to the bathroom while he is watching a TV show on the television in front of you two. Confused by what the show had just ended on, he thought he had grabbed his phone to search the show for answers and whenever he pulled the browser up, his gaze was met of that which contained mask kink galore.

Raphael set your phone down, the website still pulled up as you hummed your way back into the room and once your eyes met the screen and then his, all he did was smirk and pat his lap.

“You got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

💜Donatello💜

You had always found it weird that you thought masks were such a sweet spot for you. You didn’t think that it could be considered a kink to like masks in the bedroom, or that the whole idea of kinks had just never been properly explained to you, so the conversations about them always made you feel awkward.

It took you a while to truly feel okay with just learning what you think you would like as far as kinks go, and once you found out that masks were a kink that others had, you felt a little less weird about the whole situation.

Not to mention that whenever you and Donnie started dating, you couldn’t help but imagine all the things he could do to you, simply because of the purple friggin mask on his face~. He never noticed how zoned out you would get around him until he had to draw you out of it.

Whenever he did find out was the time that the two of you finally decided to do the deed. He had felt like you wanted him to take his mask off, ironically, until you stopped him and asked him to keep it on. He didn’t think anything of it, but you overthought your request and had to explain it to him a few times that night that you felt like you were attracted to masks and needed a little bit a reassurance, which the turtle was very happy to give.

After finding that tidbit out, he was more than happy to surprise you every now and again with different masks to spice things up in the bedroom when he felt like his purple eye mask was getting too boring. (which it never was but-)

🧡Michelangelo🧡

You were not subtle in letting Mikey know that you had a mask kink.

You didn’t even know you had a mask kink.

The mask kink let you know that it had you.

Anywho, let me tell you the story.

Mikey was bragging about getting his hands on the newest copy of COD: MWII and had been playing it ever since he had gotten it.

You had been laying behind him watching tiktok during the time that everybody and their mother’s were falling head over heels for Ghost, König, or both, and making edits of them.

You had fallen into this trap and of course with your partner playing the exact game… you made him restart so that you could see Ghost in ALL of his glory.

Mask and ALL.

You had never once paid so much attention to a mask before until this very moment and made it known to Mikey that you really liked Ghost’s mask, and then you turned to Mikey.

Low and behold, he’s wearing a mask.

And goddamn you are turned on.

“Mikey, turn the game off.”

“But! I just restarted!”

“I said turn it off!”

“Okay!!!”

Mikay could not have been any less prepared for that evening than he was.

Mikey’s sucks I’m sorry—

[its-actually-minicika]

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 2;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader (rip king 🤍), Dark!Aemond x Reader (though it's very much one sided on his behalf);

Warnings: angst galore, mentions of SA, blood and gore, allusions and descriptions of death AND sex, book canon Aemond- need I go on?

Author's Note: The support received on the last part was insane :")) so here I am, writing another one! If this gets enough attention, I might just turn it into a series; Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy!

Also, this isn't proof-read; We die like men tonight :") Part 3 is out now! <33

(Y/N) and Ser Cain ride through burnt-down forests, scattered with ash and blood - twisted loyalties reveal their sick ambitions, and the girl is faced with a very tough decision.

"How'd you even manage to get into Harrenhal? Aemond may be blind in one eye, but he keeps an iron fist over who enters and leaves the Keep." Her hushed voice echoed through the empty forest.

Ser Cain looked at his lady with a glimpse of reverence, that could almost be confused with one of slight amusement.

"I must admit, I got plenty of help." He barked dryly, running a calloused hand through his blonde hair. "You may have had no friends among the Greens, but there was a certain wood witch that wanted you gone as soon as possible."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in momentary shock. Her mouth opened and closed back up again, before she finally managed to form a proper sentence.

"Alys? Alys Rivers?" She asked tentatively, amusement licking at her fair features.

"Us bastards always find a way to help one another," Cain let out a roaring laugh, that brought a level of warmth to the Lady's weary heart. "I wanted you safe, and she wanted you gone. We reached a deal very quickly after that."

"No way you struck a deal with Aemond's bedmate." The girl huffed out in disbelief, "She'll be in a lot of trouble if ever he finds out... There is hardly anything for her to gain from freeing a war captive."

"Aye, he will be mad..." Her sworn protector made a short pause, "Yet there's nothing that stirs someone on more than jealousy." The knight sighed, lost in deep thought. "She has everything to gain from this - the walls talk in Harrenhal, my Lady. And they... well, forgive me for being so blunt - speak stories on how the Kinslayer loses sleep by visiting you in your chambers at night."

The girl's cheek are caught ablaze; the innuendo was more than clear on Ser Cain's face alone. She stills her horse and throws him a jaded look.

"As you saw when you guarded my door, ser - he does intrude often. But there was never a moment where we..." As her words came to a halt, the girl huffed out in a discontented breath, "I would rather die than spread my legs open for the usurper's kin."

"I know." Cain reassured her, a wide smile plastered on his face. "With the way you were gripping that candle holder, ready to swing it at me, I can only imagine the hell you gave Prince Aemond."

"It wasn't nearly as much as he deserved. I'm afraid I failed to do Jace justice."

Wordlessly, Ser Cain reached for her saddle, and gave her shoulder a tight squeeze. His other hand came to grip the horse's bridle, forcing both mares into another sprint.

"We can't stay in one place for long." He wanted to apologise, but (Y/N)'s reassuring smile made him calm back down again.

"Trust me. If there is anyone who wants to put as much distance between them and that disgusting psychopath, it's me."

For a while, the only noise made in the smoked out forest was the gallop of the horses and their shallow panting. After a while, even that proved to be too little.

"I have to ask," The woman started, quirking her brow up at the knight, "Where are we going? Riverrun is hardly a safe space - Aemond will go there first, once he gets notified of my absence."

Following her own logic, (Y/N)'s eyes widen.

"My brothers. Father and grandfather...!"

"You needn't worry, my Lady!" Cain Waters assured the girl with a delicate brush on her arm, "We like to think that we thought of everything - and Riverrun has been emptied since the very beginning of the Kinslayer's wild attacks."

A sigh of relief etches it's way from the girl's throat.

"Your father raised your grandfather's army - he's marching to Dragonstone, with Kermit, to aid our true Queen. As for your youngest brother and grandfather, they're both in the Eyrie - where Lady Jane Arryn is expecting you, too."

"So that's were we're heading." (Y/N) concluded with a deep sigh. "We won't reach it tonight."

"No." Cain agreed, but soon added determinedly, "We'll probably reach the Saltpans on the morrow. We'll hide a while near the Trident and, when the time is right, march North towards the Bloody Gate."

"Gods be good, it will take us weeks." She exclaimed through a shallow breath. "We can't afford spare that much time. Aemond will be hot on our tracks, that much is for certain."

Cain's eyes softened at her outburst, and the robust man bit his inner cheek.

"We have to take this chance - for your safety, my Lady." He tried to encourage her with a crooked smile, "Do not worry about the Kinslayer. I'll kill him if he touches you."

The way in which he spoke oozed with honesty and determination. His eyes were like two silver daggers, scanning, searching for any danger that could put his Lady's life at stake.

Cain was a loyal knight, Lady Tully concluded, a trusted friend and fantastic travel partner. He was her sworn shield - and men, willing to devote themselves to a cause in the way he did, waiting for nothing in return, were very few and far between.

The tiniest shadows of a smile dance across her tired features. She takes in a deep breath, and allows her shoulders to relax.

"I know you will, Ser Cain." She confirms with a small nod, focusing her attention to the road ahead.

Still... when a dragon stands between a man and his duty, what brainless knight would ever rush to a lady's aid?

Aemond's footsteps echoed through the wailing keep. His armour fell heavy on his shoulders, and the sword in his grip was fully drenched in blood.

Of all the men slain by his hand that day, Simon Strong, the old fool, had screamed the loudest. He begged until his last breath for mercy of the Warrior and the Mother, for a chance to prove himself and his loyalty to the Crown, but to no avail.

Of all the guards assigned to Harrenhal by his darling mother, all but one died, as fallen victims to his endless frenzy.

"If the words you speak are truthful," Aemond mocked him with an airy laugh, "Then pick up this sword and clash it with mine. Should you be innocent, the Warrior will grant you strength enough to defeat me."

But no Warrior, and no other God, beckoned his call that day.

Instead, Simon Strong died with his head severed, and body still twitching with a sword in hand.

Now, it was Aemond's turn to wail and sigh at the sight before him - the last knight he kept alive, a boy as green as grass, petrified beyond belief.

When he spotted the One Eyed Prince, the boy all but fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness through tear stained cheeks and apish breaths.

"Your Grace, please, you must believe me!" He deplored helplessly, "I had no part in this - I didn't know!"

Aemond felt his lips quirk up in a cruel smile. The view below him was beyond pitiful; a most amusing glimpse into what the Conqueror himself must have experienced when he put Westeros through the judgement of steel and flames.

Still, even the most amusing jesters become ridiculous when faced with the passage of time.

"Exactly. You didn't know." His honeyed voice rang out into the cluttered room. The Crown Prince took a step forward, reveling in how the knight pressed himself deeper into the ground. The stench of piss flared up his nostrils.

The boy had shat himself.

His whimpers broke through the otherwise silent room. A mixture of "Please"s and "Your Grace, don't"s - it left Aemond dissatisfied and forlong, irked to no end.

"You say you have seen this knight around." He hummed in admission, "Pray tell, what was his name again?"

"C-Cain! Cain Waters! He was a broad man, with a straight stubble and long, blonde hair!" He shook his head after each and every word, desperate to prove himself. "He had a scar - right here, on his left arm! And a broken nose - it curved to the left side, and he said he'd gotten it from a brawl!" The boy blabbered incoherently, spewing as many things as he remembered from the immediate memory.

Aemond chuckled at his words, raising his hand out to stop the disordered boy. Wordlessly, he held his arm out, enouraging him with a curt nod to raise to his feet again.

"You have an excellent memory, do you not? It seems like you remember a lot of things."

The knight nodded fevereshly, trying his hardest to stop his limbs from giving out.

"Yes, yes, Your Grace! I talked to him countless of times, I can recognise his voice with my eyes closed!"

Aemond quirked his head to the side, and let out another curt laugh.

"Good, very good, indeed! And, tell me..." As he spoke the last of his words, Aemond Targaryen got closer to the shaking boy, "You call this level of interest... not getting involved?"

Without waiting for an answer, Prince Aemond let go of the soldier's hand, running his sword through his stomach in a simple, yet effective movement.

"Y-Your G-Gh..." He strained himself to hiss though his bloodied mouth, before falling on his knees, his hand placed atop his wound.

"You've proven yourself very useful." Aemond asserted dryly, "Just as you said."

The Prince turned back on his heel again, and began marching towards the open door. With a bored expression on his face, he threw the child one more dejected look, and added, "But I've simply no more need for you."

The knight's endless gagging filled the room with a paculiar sense of dread. Somewhere along his way, Aemond got a hold of a kitchen wench; he grabbed her with his bloody hand, and clicked his tongue in pure disdain.

"Clean that up." Was all she was instructed to do.

Daylight had long broken the sky in two, as Cain and (Y/N) finally reached the Saltpans of the Trident.

Tired, and famished far beyond belief, the two stopped at the gate of an ale house, dismounting their horses and knocking on the door politely.

A couple of seconds went by, until a small click of a key was heard on the other side. An old woman stepped outside, holding out a crossbow, that was still too big for her wide frame.

"I said, no more scoundrels, and ruffians, and thieves, and men! Away, away with you!"

Her wrinkled hands swished and flicked about, right under Cain's nose, who swallowed a small laugh, and gently raised his hands out in taciturn surrender.

"No ruffians, scoundrels or thieves sit in front of you, ma'am. ... Though, of being a man, I must admit I'm very guilty."

Upon hearing his words, the old lady shook her head, with a strength so great, (Y/N) was sure her eyes would pop out.

"Oh, no, no! I said, no more of those around here!" She repeated again, though she lowered her crossbow from Cain's face, upon hearing the sound of his mellow voice.

"Madam, I... We beg you to reconsider." The Lady's voice rang through the open clearing. As she glanced up at the old, plump woman, her features turned soft and pleading, begging for help, like a child would to her wise mother.

She gripped Cain's biscep with her left hand, ensuring that their host would see her amethist ring, that now rested upon her ring finger. "My husband and I are so tired from our long journey and... as you said, Madam, the streets aren't safe."

The house's owner squinted at them with a hardened look, but then, almost too suddenly, she stepped aside for the two to come in.

"You'll have to forgive an old spinster," The woman smiled tightly over her shoulder, "It's just that in these parts of the Reach, you don't know in who to trust."

"Aye, we hear that." Cain replied with a warm smile, leading his lady inside with a hand respectfully placed above her waist. "Great thinking!" He leaned in to whisper in her ear, congratulating her on the ability to adapt to their situation so fast. "If I didn't know any better, my Lady, I'd say you didn't need me to make the trip."

She gave her a polite smile, and sheepishly bowed her head.

"Perhaps you don't know any better, then." She laughed at him teasingly, before moving her attention back to the old maid.

"My husband and I travelled no small distance - we live near Bitterbridge, but we decided to join with our relatives near Crossroad's Inn." She gave Cain's hand a tight squeeze, and looked at him affectionately, before pressing on. "With with the war looming over us, nothing is more important than family."

The old lady smiled at them, showing off her three gold teeth. Her eyes held no malice now, and she shifted her weight from her left foot to speak. "Mine mother was from Goldengrove - a proper Lady. She was almost a lady in waiting for Brianna Tyrell."

Looking almost wistfully to the side, the inn wench let out a melancholic sigh.

"Oh, but what am I sharing these stories for?" She questioned jokingly, while clasping her hands together. "I'll prepare breakfast for you two. And a bed - to sleep in for the night."

Cain offered the woman a small nod, and smiled tightly in reply.

As she made herself busy with boiling some eggs, the man leaned in, muttering lowly to his lady.

"She didn't ask us for how long we'd stay. She assumed right away we'd be gone tomorrow."

Taking in his cautious words, (Y/N) hummed, as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

"And if her words are true about her mother, then she served as vassal for the Hightowers, as well."

"Do you think she's a Loyalist, my Lady?" The knight choked on his own breath.

"It might be too soon to tell."

The man's eyes fell back on the dirty window, that offered but a shallow peek into the outside world. His face contorted to one of great concentration - Much like it did years ago, (Y/N) mused to herself, before an important Tourney.

"We'll tread lightly. ... It might be a good idea to show our support to Aegon when we talk amongst ourselves at dinner."

"An easy conversation to over-hear, of course. Especially after a glass or two of wine."

Their little dialogue ceased a moment, and both travellers shot each other a warm smile.

"W-W-Wait, just because I brought the letter here, that don't mean I'm gon' speak to the young master, too-" The strained voice of a serving maid bounced off the stone walls of the black Crypt.

She looked around frantically, shaking her head with so much dedication, that her braid came undone onto her shoulders. The servants around her made no attempt to soothe the girl, or take her under their protection - for they, too, were scared of the wrath that resided deep inside of Aemond.

Still, a raven, who's beak carried a letter that spoke naught on the outside, besides it coming from an inn in the Saltpans, had come to Harrenhal that afternoon.

A more educated one from the flock of young maids tried to decypher its contents in the light of day, but to no avail. The letter had to be opened. And it had to be opened by their reckless Prince, first.

"H-How do we even know it's something important?" One elder girl chirped shyly. "What if it isn't, and Prince Aemond punishes us for wasting his Grace's time?"

A shuddering thought went through each and every resting body, that rang clear through their bodies, like a blade would on young flesh.

"And what if it is important?" Another spoke up, "We'll all be executed for not bringing it to him, sooner!" She sobbed into her hands.

"Bring what to Prince Aemond?"

The rise of the unknown voice elicited a scared gasp from each member of the pitiful assembly. Comically, they all turned on their heel at once, gripping their throats in horrified wonder.

None but Alys Rivers stood before them, her own hands resting on her hips and her cascade of black hair, fraiming her expecting face in a gruellingly gorgeous way.

"Seven hells! You had us scared to death, Rivers!" One maid or another chastised her deeply.

Upon hearing the lack of reverence in her voice, the Strong witch clasped her hands tightly together, and glared upon the crowd with a look full of disdain.

"You ought be careful with how you address me. You forget yourself, wench."

Her words were cutting and scornful, and yet, they had no effect on the defying servant.

"I should be careful with how I speak to you?" The tiny woman let out a small scoff, "'Tis you who should sooner not forget her standing. You aren't mistress of this Keep. You are naught above us in station."

Caught in the red, Alys scorned down at the meek, servant girl. Her back turned awfully straight, and she demured in a demanding tone.

"You will either tell me at once what it is you're hiding, or I will have my Aemond take all of your heads." She let out a small chuckle, and carried on, "You'll see how much power I have over this keep and you - for I carry the Dragon's son, and his fires already lick at my womb."

The possibility of Alys Rivers carrying the Kinslayer's bastard sent a shiver down their hollow spines. Soon, the girls threw each other a despondent look, and settled their eyes upon the floor.

"It's... a letter from the Saltpans... m'lady." The same maid who provoked her now spoke. "We don't know of it's contents, but..."

Silence fell over the windy crypt. Alys quirked up a brow in amusement, and extended her arm out in palpable anticipation.

"I'll carry it to him, then. Make haste, give it to me, and begone."

For once, her command was almost immediately executed. The plump girl that had brought the raven inside hurried to give the parchments to her, and scurried along the dark hall, making herself scarce and unseen.

Alys' green skirts kissed the grounds which the woman walked, leaving a rustling echo along the large halls with every calculated step.

She reached for Aemond's Quarters, and slyly made her way inside.

"My Prince," Her voice rang out, "A letter addressed to you has just arrived."

The eager polishing of Aemond's sword was the only noise in the room for a while. He hummed expectantly, putting an end to his endeavours, and getting a hold of the enclasped letter with two of his long fingers.

Silently, much like a predator would it's prey, he analysed its contents, feeling a smug smirk tugging at his upturned lips. He lowered it after a while, and looked out the window, lost in the depthness of his thoughts.

"My Prince, what does it say?" Alys inquired officiously, dropping her head over his thighs. "Is it of an important matter?"

Aemond let out a joyous laugh - and, whether it was due to his amusement over Alys' stupid question, or due to the contents of the flimsy letter, was up to anybody's guess.

"Tell those kitchen wenches to prepare for a grand feast for tonight. We have reason to expect very pleasant company."

The man rose from his chair and smirked to himself once more, before making his way towards the grand oak doors of his private chambers.

He stopped on his tracks, however, to assert the woman on his bed once more.

"Alys... should you come to my room unannounced again, I will have your head for it." He uttered neutrally, with a bemused rise of his brows.

"Do you think it wise to leave tonight?" Cain's pleasant voice rang through the girl's ears, as the two made good haste scarping down on the dinner they paid for.

"Tonight?" The girl hushed back at him, before taking a sip of her wine. "You don't trust the old lady, do you?"

"Aye, I must admit, I don't." Cain confirmed her laid out question, as he followed the woman's form into the small kitchen again. "I can't shake off the feeling that something bad is about to happen."

Placing her hand atop his in a pacifying manner, (Y/N) squeezed tightly, putting an end to his restless thoughts.

"Then we should leave tonight. Wait until she's fallen asleep, sneak out and mount our horses. We can sleep when we reach the Bloody Gate, or hidden away in the forest." She concluded with a stone faced look.

Cain bit his lower lip and clicked his tongue in distaste for the plan. "I'm sorry for making you go through this, my Lady. A young woman shouldn't be forced to sleep outside, under such pitiful conditions."

"But it's better to be safe than sorry," She assured him once again, "And I've slept in worse than grass and branches - you should know."

The knight's face twisted into pure rage.

"I swear to you, my Lady, I will have his head for all he made you go through. I will."

"There would be no one else I trust more with the task." She smiled at him happily, and a pang of sisterly affection surged through her bones. "Let's finish eating. Then we'll retire in our room and start packing up."

Cain nodded in agreement, and offered the girl one of his many placid smiles.

The evening went on with little to no commotion - the night displayed the hour of the wolf, when the two finally made their way outside their room, and onto the small corridor that led to the stables.

Still, their footsteps, however careful, alerted their horses, who'd grown so accounstomed to Cain's presence.

With a small huff of their muzzles, they rested their head upon the separating barrier, and shook their manes expectantly.

"That's it, those are my good girls." Cain hushed to them, untying their bridles from the putrid wall. "Let's go for a ride, shall we?"

In the same manner he did the night before, (Y/N)'s sworn shield helped her up the saddle, and secured her belts in place. Soon came his turn, and, before they both knew it, the pair was exiting the stables with tentative steps, stopping at the entrance.

"We'll take to the North road, but we'll travel slightly East. We'll be on Arryn grounds... and hopefully more safe."

"That sounds like a plan." Lady Tully agreed with a tight expression on her face. She let out a shaky sigh, opening the inn's gates with a strong jerk of her hand.

Cain clicked his tongue once, twice, three and four times, until both horses broke into a hasty sprint. With his hand over both bridles, he guided the horses over to the stony road.

The night was clear. The shadows scarce. And yet...

A looming figure washed up before them both, swallowing the light of the moon and shaking their foundations to the very core.

"Ha..." (Y/N) let out a laugh in disbelief, feeling her heart rising to her throat.

Cain's face tightened, and his knuckles turned white over the saddle's head. His body contorted in fear and disgust for the man above them, as he took in a deep breath.

"Run." He instructed dryly.

When a horse races with a dragon, which one of them wins? - It was a rather stupid question, for this was a race that the poor horse would lose everytime, no matter it's good breeding or strong muscle mass.

"TO THE FOREST, BACK INTO THE FOREST!" Ser Cain yelled out, turning both animals around, hoping for a chance of escape.

"Have you lost your mind?! He'll burn the trees down!" His lady's reply came and went, swallowed by the wind, and the ring of Aemond's cruel laugh.

"What other choice do we have?!"

That much was true, the lady admitted inside her head. Aemond was ruthless, and, chances were, they would both die either way. If there was even a slither of hope that they'll survive by confusing the man, they had to take it.

As the horses ran, Cain tried his best to untangle their bridles, but (Y/N) shouted after him.

"Don't!! Aemond won't burn me with his dragon, he needs me alive for my grandfather's banners! But he won't hesitate to hurt you, should we be separated!"

With one hardened breath after the other, the two made their way back into the forest, where Cain reached out to unbuckle his lady's saddle. His stiff fingers made slow work - the exhaustion, fear and speed with which they galloped made it extremely hard for the knight to see even three inches ahead of him.

"We get off the horses!" He alerted the woman, as beads of sweat rolled off his forehead. "From that distance, he can't see us - he'll think we're still on them! We'll have to run from that point on, but we must take the chance!"

(Y/N) replied in kind with his instructions, and both lady and loyal knight jumped off their horses' saddles, hitting the ground with a ferocious impact.

Pain surged through her limbs and bones, but Cain quickly grabbed her hand, and dragged her further into the forest, and farther away from Aemond's roars.

Their strained breaths and silent whimpers echoed through the quiet woods - they ran and ran, until their feet gave out on them, and the two reached a small cave.

"Come -" The man encouraged with a raspy voice, as his knees buckled below him.

For a while, there was silence. (Y/N) swallowed thickly, and whispered to her tired knight.

"We should stay here for a while. Maybe an hour, or... Shit, he won't leave either way, will he?"

"Aye, my Lady, not without you." His grey eyes came to clash with her (y/e/c) hues. A look of strange determination took a hold of his harsh features, contorting his brows in such a way, that they almost mended through themselves.

"From here we could go to Maidenpool. The forest covers enough a distance for such a feat."

"Maidenpool?" The girl's voice shook with fear, "It's nose to nose with King's Landing - going there is a death sentence!"

She closed her eyes tightly and kicked her leg into a nearby stone. "Shit, shit, shit - we were so close!"

"I shall challenge him to a fair fight." Cain mustered up to say. "The Kinslayer has no honor. But he still values the tradition."

The lady's eyes shot wide open, and her head shook to the side. "No, absolutely not. Aemond is well rested - you haven't slept in two days!"

"I must. What other choice do we have?" He repeated with a shaky voice, as he wobbled back on his feet again. His eyes trailed over the girl's small silhouette, and patted her back keenly.

"You stay here, my Lady. Should I arise victorious, I'll come back and find you."

With each word of their heated dispute, both companions raised their voices.

"No - not a chance. As your Lady, I'm commanding you; and as your friend, I'm begging you - let me come with."

"There should be no need for that." Aemond's deep voice rumbled out.

Cain wasted no time to place the girl behind his back, and unsheathe his sword with one swift movement.

"... How?" (Y/N) asked him in pure disdain and disbelief.

"Lady Alys sees many things. Before I left, she saw you in the fires of the kitchen, wasting away in this cave to rot."

The Crown Prince gave the girl a mellow smile, as he took a step ahead.

"At first, it made little sense to me. Especially since that withered whore sent me a raven, assuring me of your whereabouts in her inn." Hearing the calmness in his voice, the girl spat out a low curse.

But Aemond laughed at her display, and gently shook his head.

"The view you get atop a dragon, My Lady, is a very valuable thing. You can already guess my frustration when all I saw were pesky trees, but then... then I saw this cave."

Cain let out a low growl, and measured the One-Eyed Prince with his wild stare.

"None of that matters now." He spoke calmly, cutting him off, "We've to reach an agreement, Kinslayer. Pull your sword out now, and face trail before the Gods."

As his eyes trailed across Aemond's clean armour, the knight let out a strained snarl.

"Lest you be scared to, of course."

That seems to be the final drop for Aemond, who suddenly unsheathes his own Valyrian steel sword, and places it atop Cain's breastplate. "You'll regret ever taunting a dragon."

"We'll see."

Having said the last of their words, the men swayed on their feet, clashing steel with steel. When Aemond charged him, Cain moved barely fast enough to avoid the blade's sharp edge.

No sooner was Aemond's first slash blocked, that the knight made another - this time, the Kinslayer's armour proved to be pivital, as the sword rang though his breastplate, without making any damage to the warm body inside.

Hard and fast the cuts came, from low and high, from left and right, and each one Cain managed to block. The frustration in Aemond's eye etched itself into Vhagar's mighty roar, so barbaric and wild, that it sent a shiver of dread down (Y/N)'s spine.

Her knight caught one blow high on his armour, and a painted trout had lost its head. He countercut, and the Prince imposed his own shield, lunching in a fiery backslash.

Cain moved to his right, but the Kinslayer blocked him with a quick side-step, and drove him back the other way... towards the darkness of the cage, hoping to blind him and take his head.

The knight gave ground until he felt the shadows dancing on his back. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him what was way behind, and that recklessness almost cost him his head, when Aemond began his attacks anew.

One hit over his legs by (Y/N)'s dagger sent the Prince tumbling on his back, but he surged his way on his feet again with a rash counter-attack. He let out a wild roar, and his cold steel plowed into Ser Cain's flesh, where his shoulder joined his neck, stopping at the knight's breastbone.

The blood came rushing out in a hot, black gush - Ser Cain's knees folded slowly, as if for prayer, and when he opened up his mouth, only blood came out.

"NO!" The girl yelled out in a blood curling shriek, and she tumbled forward, trying to get a hold of the knight's bloodied cape.

With his last ounce of strenght, Ser Cain pushed the girl aside and slashed his sword up in the air - but Aemond spun like a turret, and blocked his mindless hack with a teasing smile on his face, discarding his sword to the side.

"I hope your God's a sweet one, Waters bastard." Aemond hummed through his hooded eyes, "For you're going to meet him shortly."

Wincing from the pain that was now licking at his opened flesh, Ser Cain spat over Aemond's boots, while gripping his shoulder to stop the endless rivers of blood, that were being eaten by the dirt.

Unamused, though still smirking, the One Eyed Prince raised his sword in the air, to deliver that one, final cut.

"STOP!" The Lady's voice rang through the tiny cave, grasping Aemond's attention.

Standing tall, she gripped Cain's sword in her own stilled hands, and brought it back to her own stomach.

"If you kill Cain now, I'll run this blade right through my insides!"

As if fallen under a spell, Aemond spat a low curse out, and rested his sword back on his hip. Wordless still, he pushed the knight down with the end of his Achile's heel, but raised his hands up in quiet surrender.

"I mean it!" She sobbed into the open space, her eyes never leaving Aemond's. "We'll see then what kind of support you'll receive from the Riverlords for your usurper kin!"

As if to accentuate her words, she pressed the sword deeper into her scorching heat, applying enough pressure to draw out a little cove of blood.

"Let him go. Let him live, and you can bring me back to Harrenhal, yeah?" The girl asked the Targaryen Prince tentatively.

"Hmm."

So very slowly, Aemond's feet carried him to (Y/N)'s direction. With one hand still raised in the air, he lowered the hilt of Cain's sword, pushing the tip away from her convulsing body.

His lonesome eye trailed low, enough to meet the poke of her clothes, and Viserys' second son let out a disappointed sigh.

His hand reached to cup the girl's jaw, and he gingerly turned it from side to side - inspecting it, just as he'd done when they first clashed wits in her prison cell.

"You've lost weight." He remarked through a furrowed brow.

Suddenly, his hand trailed lower still, all the way down to her neck, which he gripped gently, possessively.

"You are in no position to make demands. Do you think he won't come after you again if I let him live?"

"You all but severed his right hand - he will never fight again." The girl begged him with logic and fact, whilst swallowing thickly, as her heart hammered out of her chest.

"Let him live." Her hand ghosted above his tightening grip, her eyes frantically searching for his. "If you do so, I won't put up a fight ever again."

The final words of her vow caused a pleasant shiver run down Aemond's back. He falthered his grip on her throat, and moved both hands to cage her in between his body and the cold stones.

"Keep your... fucking hands... away from her." Cain hissed from his laying place, trying his hardest to get back up on his feet again.

Aemond's body tensed again, but, before he could move away from (Y/N) and do anything, the girl gripped his cheeks with both hands and brought his eye on her again.

"Stop it, Cain." She preleened through a shaky breath. "It's done."

Aemond's throat rumbled out in a purr of satisfaction, and he harshly grabbed the woman to bring her outside with him.

The monstrous Vhagar awaited them with open wings - and an open jaw -, which made the girl stop on her tracks and plant her feet into the grimy ground.

"I can't get on top of that-!" She uttered pleadingly, shooting Aemond down with a jaded look.

"You will watch your tongue, churl. That is Vhagar. And you will be riding her tonight." He pulled the woman near him and approached his dragon with four swift steps.

'The bond between a dragon and their rider it's a sacred thing.' Jacaerys' voice rang out in her ears.'The dragon always knows what the rider is feeling... Sometimes even better than the man himself.'

"You should be honoured." Aemond disrupted her trail of thought with an assertive remark, "Very few have been introduced to the Queen of the Dragons before."

His touch made her nauseous. Her head was swirling with a hundred unanswered questions, and the way Vhagar looked at them both only stirred her along more.

As Aemond reached for (Y/N)'s hand, the she-dragon let out a disapproving roar.

"Sagon gīda, Vhagar." He hushed gently, as if sharing a sensual secret with an old lover. "Rības issa udra. Umbagon nykeēdrosa."

His rough palm clutched the girl's one tightly, and he jerked her hand forward to touch the dragon's scales.

Restless, Vhagar tried to move away, rejecting the touch of the woman she didn't deem safe for Aemond.

'Dragons have a way of knowing how we all feel. If you wanted me dead now, Vermax wouldn't be so keen to please you.' Jacaerys laughed inside her ear.

But (Y/N) wanted Aemond dead. And of course, Vhagar knew that.

It came to no surprise that she was declining her touch. Still, Aemond persisted.

He moved behind the girl's small frame, and pressed his body against hers so harshly, that she tumbled forward, coming into full contact with Vhagar's scarred belly.

"Gīda, Vhagar." He whispered again, "Dohaeragon issa. Rȳbagon se rības."

Slowly, yet surely, the weary groans of the she-dragon ceased, as Aemond kept reassuring her.

When the Prince felt the bond satisfactory enough, he threw the woman over his shoulder, and began climbing to his dragon's saddle.

(Y/N) let out a disparaging heave, and she had to repeatedly remind herself just how close she was to a dragon's jaws, as to not hit Aemond over the head with all her strenght.

Once they reached the top, Aemond gently lowered her onto the saddle, making fast work on the belts around them.

His hand ghosted between her legs, in a feigned attempt to check the bindings, and the lady shot him a disapproving frown.

Whilst letting out a dangerous chuckle, Aemond shook his head and mounted himself behind her. "Are you ready?" He murmured into her left year.

Not even waiting for an answer, he rose his head and commanded clearly;

"Sōvegon!"

Thoughout the whole ride, the girl kept her eyes closed, despite Aemond's numerous attempts to make her open them.

They reached Harrenhall not even twenty minutes later, and the lady had to stiffle a bitter laugh as she dismounted the glorious beast.

If only her and Cain could have travelled faster; then nothing bad would have ever happened.

Cain...

She turned to glance at the ground, and closed her eyes for a quick prayer.

Though she believed not in the Old Gods or the New, her heart beckoned her to hope for his safety.

She let Aemond carry her back inside, not even paying attention to her surroundings.

He lost a lot of blood, her psyche echoed back to her, But there is a chance he made it out there.

The light click of doors closing grounded her back to her harsh reality. Peeling them from the ground, Lady Tully turned her eyes to the decour of the room, and took a step back once she realised this wasn't her old tower.

"You'll be sleeping with me from now on, My Lady." Aemond's velvety voice fell upon her deafened ears. "We won't have any other shameful accidents - not as long as you're under my protection."

The woman felt as if she could gag at any given moment. If Aemond thought, just for a second, that she'd bed him or become his whore, he'd be unpleasantly surprised.

She'd rather sleep on the floor. Or see herself rot back in the Dungeons.

Almost as if he could read her mind, Aemond let out a low hum.

He came before her, and scooted closer. His hand reached up, resting above her collarbones, and his breath hitched in his throat.

Timidly, his fingers came down to gently carress them, and the One Eyed Prince had to bite back a deep moan.

The contrast between his rough fingertips and her soft skin felt exquisite, and so, so right.

For a second, he thought about the kinds of sounds that might come from her haughty mouth as he slowly entered her. How her face would twist in pleasure, as he gradually, gently, taught her the art of the bedroom.

His lustful thoughts came to an end when he noticed how her face contorted in disgust and displeasure.

Familiar anger flared within him.

She was a whore. A lowly girl who, no doubt, spent every day spreading her legs to his bastard nephiew before, taking him into her sacred depths whenever he so wished to.

So why was she resisting him?

Did she not feel his touch as electrifying as hers was for him?

"Don't be scared. I will not bed you." He uttered near her swollen lips. "I take no pleasure in claiming what's not freely given."

An arrogant smirk tugged at the ends of his upturned lips.

He brought his thumb to brush over her lower lip, toying with it until he forced himself to let it go.

"But it's in a whore's nature to be begging for cock. And you will be pleading for mine before the Spring's end, I can promise you that."

Taglist:

@ohitsthemaster @bellameshipper

Translations:

"Sagon gīda, Vhagar." = Be calm, Vhagar;

"Rības issa udra. Umbagon nykeēdrosa." = Obey my words. Stay still;

"Gīda, Vhagar." = Calm, Vhagar;

"Dohaeragon issa. Rȳbagon se rības." = Serve me. Listen and obey;

"Sōvegon!" = Fly;

[the-cockroach-that-survived]

I’m watching the new titan manhunt video and I’m a little high and omg this is literally a video from 2021. Manhunt, Minecraft green screen George, DNF galore, soooo many unintentional innuendos, I’m gonna scream