#it's early in the morning bare with me fam

[misteria247]

No no no no don't do this to me don't make me love them too please I'm begging you-

Ughhhhhh-!! This isn't fair damnit-! Also-

Papa Time Link with his two sons and Twilight Link and Warrior Link throwing jabs at one another while their little brother looks so done. And finally-

These two are gonna become besties. I'm already calling it right now.

[pedge-page]

SARAH AND ELLIE GETTING PUT IN TIME OUT FOR THROWING A TOY DRUM SET DOWN THE STAIRS AND THEY BOTH GET PUT IN DIFFERENT CORNERS OF THE LIVING ROOM AND ALL JOEL HEARS IS GIGGLES FROM THEM AND ELLIE IS NOW ON THE FRONT PORCH WHILE SARAH IS ON THE BACK (this is a story inspired by me and my brother when we were around 7 or 8)

Please that's so funny 😭 here's Joel's reaction:

Joel Dealing with Fam: Time Out

- - - -

Joel is barely up bright and early. It's 8am, his day off. The girls are usually up by 7, so he's been trying to be awake with them for ridiculous morning routines. Like why did he have to take them for a walk at 7:30am?? And they had SO much energy. Yapping and clomping around in their light up sandles, talking about God knows what little kiddies talk about. Fortunately, they were finally at the age where Joel no longer needed to keep an eye on them 24/7 in the house.

Unfortunately, they were no longer at the age where he could keep an eye on them 24/7 in the house. Baby gates had come crashing down a while ago, and since both could walk and talk now, he couldn't possibly corral them in one room and keep them there for more than 5 seconds. So off they go within the confines of the house.

Hes sipping his bland coffee, having forgotten creamer and not caring one bit. The girls went upstairs eagerly after their walk, and haven't come back down since. Hes ready to doze off again, right here at the kitchen counter, when he hears Sarah's confident voice echo from the top of the stairs:

"Ellie, this is called gravity !"

No sooner does his eyes widen to full alert when the most godawful destructive bangbangbang! noises come barreling down the stairs and crashing at the bottom, pieces of something rolling along the hardwood.

Joel bolts from his seat to the house entry way, only to find a very torn up, bent over, hardly recognized remnants of Sarah's school drum she had been practicing with at home. He puts his hands disappointingly on his hips, glazing up at the two girls sitting at the very top of the steps, pointing down and giggling at what a scene they had caused.

It dawns on both of them a moment later that Daddy didn't find it nearly as cool.

-

Joel sighs, picking up coffee back up and taking another sip as he settles next the island again. It's quiet finally. The drum discarded into the trash bin. Girls....

His baggy eyes pick up once again, ears chiming in on the faint pitched giggles coming from the other room.

He walks into the living room, and suddenly everything is quiet: Ellie facing the south wall corner just as he put her, and Sarah facing the North wall corner on the other side, exactly as she was. Funny, how the room has been raucous with giggles just a second before his thunderous footsteps approached.

They could feel his eyes lasering holes in the back of their heads. After a tense moment, Joels footsteps leave the room.

The girls immediately launch into snickers, and that's when Joel catches them still chattering and making those crashing noises with their lips, laughing. Its like they have no clue that they're in time out, a punishment, for what they did.

He clenches his fist hard.

-

Your second favorite time of day is coming home for lunch. The girls are at the fun age where they want to tell you all about their morning, and it seems when dad is home, they always have quite a bit to say.

Although the first thing that strikes you as odd as you approach the house is Ellie sitting by herself in pretzel on the front porch. She's surrounded in the former baby gates, making a protective fence around her like a cage. You would be worried that she's out her all by herself were it not for spoon protectively guarding her (outside her little prison) and the front door wide open, having a direct line of view to her from inside.

You get up the stairs and stare at Ellie, who's pretending not to hide her mischievous grin. "Ellie B," you coo, titling you head to the side. "Whatcha doin out here."

"Nothin," she says innocently, playing with the flower buckles on her shoes. She really doesn't seem at all bothered. Though, you can feel something seething from inside. As if Joels aura was putting off high intensity anger hormones, and isn't affecting your little rambouncous girl in the slightest.

"Where's Sarah?"

"Back."

You walk in through the front door and through the house. Joel is sitting at the kitchen counter, back to you and not even aknowledging your presence. He did seem stiff though, and by the looks of his closed eyes, coffee in hand, you could tell he was trying his best to mediate through gritted teeth.

You'll deal with him in a second.

You open the back patio door and look to your left, and there's your oldest, sitting in comically similar position as Ellie was, hands holding her chin and elbows on her knees.

"Oh hi Mommy," she says calmly.

"Hi. Whatcha doin back here?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "Nothin much."

You raise your brow. There's no way the girls are just sitting on far ends of the house, confied to private corners for "nothin much."

You turn around only to be met by your brick wall husband, standing with a growl. All that mediation had no improvement, and you could definitely feel the steam still billowing off him.

Joel grasps your hand and leads you back down the patio. Sarah hollers to him: "Can I be done--"

"NO," he says sternly. Not even looking her way for any hint of negotiations before rounding the corner of the house with you.

"Alright mister, what's got the girls in trouble this time--"

Joel flips open the trash bin and yanks out a mangled bit of metal and paper, dangling all wrong as if dropped 15 feet from--

You cover your mouth in shock but then burst into laughter. Joel doesn't share your amusement, still scowling.

Your cackles fit can be heard around the sides too, because he can then hear Sarah AND ellie from either side launching into bitty uncontrollable giggles too with you.

- - - -

Taglist

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[notroosterbradshaw]

about: just some smut to fend off jetlag. i love sleepy Bradley, I make no excuses that I feel he does his best work in the early hours of the day. This was supposed to be a drabble… it’s not anymore. Sorry.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

masterlist.

The morning after the night before when Bradley met your family for the first time, you'd flown across the world to surprise your dad for his birthday and really, it luckily coincided with Bradley's time off. When you mentioned heading home for your old man's special day that usually kicked off your family's holiday season, you almost fell out of your seat when he said maybe it was time he met the fam face-to-face, not just making small talk over FaceTime. It almost didn’t seem fair that he was subjected to meeting everyone this way, but alas… here you were the next morning, jet lag kicking in while wrapped protectively in Bradley’s strong, golden arms and washed in the relief your family fucking loved him. You weren't overly surprised. 

Bradley's quiet, unassuming charm was just who your mum wanted you to end up with, he was into golf and surfing, so your dad and brothers thought he was the bee's knees. Your sister on the other hand... 

You had to fend her off more than you would have liked. You were confident in your relationship with Bradley, knowing he'd never allow anything to happen. "You're coming across a little desperate," you hissed after one or two drinks, which mortified her, and she apologised, admitting she was just happy to finally get to meet the guy who'd swept you off your feet. "Yes, my feet," you reminded her. When she pointed out how possessive you sounded, you didn't deny it. But she got it and gave you space for the rest of the evening. 

Ahh, sisters. 

Bradley felt your body writhe in the gentlest of movements against his and he sighed. Sleep hadn’t come easy for either of you and compounded with the food and booze you’d indulged in the day before, neither of you slept much. “You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered at God-knows-what-o’clock. 

“What time is it?” You asked softly.

“I dunno, baby. Sun is barely rising,” he admitted. “Can’t hear a peep in the house.”

Which was nice because yesterday was intense. Everyone was so excited to meet your new American boyfriend (fairly, it’d been about eight months, give or take with a few deployments), the incredibly handsome navy pilot whom you’d met one evening at a naval bar while travelling. You’d caught his eyes behind his sunglasses while he played the piano, the crowd around him as swept away with him as you were. The first half-smile in your direction, as he sang, had done you over in a way not one single person on the planet had before. 

He'd charmed you instantly. He still charmed you constantly. 

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked, biting back a yawn.

“Not really,” he peppered tender kisses into your shoulder blade and smiled into your skin as you pressed back into him, the oh-so-quiet moan made for his ears only waking him from his dreaded fog as well. “I’ll try and get a kip somewhere today. That fuckin’ flight murdered me.” 

“You were happy to fly economy,” you muttered. “I know you’re used to tight quarters, but fuck Bradley. It was 15 hours." 

“I know, I know I fucked up. I was looking at upgrades overnight. I’ll use my discount and stuff; we can do it flying home.”

“You sure?”

“Sue me for wanting to save a buck,” he sighed, with a tired, deep chuckle. “Flight was so full; people may as well have been sitting on the wings.”

“It’s Christmas. People travel.”

“You don't say,” he affectionately gripped your waist, rolling you to him and kissed you. “Good morning, I think," he nuzzled your nose against his and asked if you wanted some water or anything.

You shook your head, rolling back and snuggling into him as he adjusted his arms around you again, his nose buried in your hair. "I think Dad is gonna expect you for at least nine holes today." 

"I think so, yeah. Grill me and make sure I'm good enough for his little girl.” He murmured and if he was honest, he was the teeniest bit nervous. He’d never really been in relationships long enough to meet families… and who would he introduce anyone to, except for Mav?

"I think you'll be fine."

"He probably wouldn't be if he knew what a deviant I've turned his smart, beautiful baby girl into.”

You giggled quietly as you could feel the soft ends of his moustache curve into a smirk against the nape of your neck. "He'd send you back on the first flight to LA."

"I would believe that," he said softly. 

"I think yesterday went really well, Bradley," you confided quietly to him.

"You think? I was on my very best behaviour," he teased you.

"Yes, you were," you admitted. Not that he ever wasn't. Bradley was instilled with a remarkable set of manners. He was chivalrous and courteous to a fault, incredibly sweet and at times, pensive, even shy. Almost make believe that you were lucky enough to share his time. You wriggled back against him, and you could feel the hard-on straining through his boxer briefs. "Down, boy." 

"Can't help it," he sighed. "You know what you do to me with that ass. I know what you want. You're not that transparent."

You bit back your pleased smile as his wandering hands travelled down your side, fingertips toying with the hem of his old Navy tee that was now your bed shirt. At home, you were nude sleepers. At your parents' home during the holidays? You showed decorum and respect and you both hated it, preferring skin-on-skin of the other but alas, anyone could walk in at any time. 

“Have a thought about how we might be able to fuck this jetlag off…” 

“Oh, yeah?” at this point, you’d do anything and with Bradley’s travel for work, you hoped maybe he might have some insight. You had planned to just power through and try not to be the world’s most exhausted asshole. 

"You just move your thigh a little this way..." he murmured, his palm cupping your hamstring and you pressed back into him, grinning softly. “And I just slide up in here – ”

“Confident of you, don’t you think?”

“You’re always wet for me,” he whispered against your skin. “Unless you deny it.”

“Never…” you told him, reaching back to wrap an arm around his strong neck. “I just can't keep it down with you. Why didn’t you convince me to get the AirBnb?”

He loved how vocal you were during sex. Your moans, the hisses, the way you'd bite your lip when you were so close. That groan as you came, or the little squeal when you were too sensitive was burned into his brain as his favourite sounds in the world. 

"Just lemme hold you then, it's okay, sweetheart," he grumbled. “I’ll live if you can.” 

“Asshole,” you muttered as he chuckled. 

“Do you want a blowjob?” You nervously offered, turning back to him and he looped your thigh over his hip and perched you above him with such little effort on his behalf - you loved how strong he was but you knew what was waiting for you, Bradley made no secret he was turned on and you loved that you were able to have him on a knife-edge at all times. 

The one per cent, he’s told you once before. 

You’re so sweet to him as you slowly dragged your hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing more and more skin, cock springing free, slapping against his toned, tanned Adonis belt. Long, thick and dripping with precum already and he almost blushed at how eager he was.

“I’ll never say no,” he replied, “And I know you might be uncomfortable here. Your dad is right across the hall, baby."

“But my daddy is right here…” you immediately corrected him, and he smiled darkly to himself. You didn't use that term lightly, you couldn’t nfi fed to him he had the ability to bring out your innermost feral when you least expected it and he would do his utmost to encourage it (if you were comfortable). 

“Jesus,” his head was swirling, trying to keep calm and not blow his load the second you bared your tongue to him but there was absolutely nothing sweet about it. He was a preening mess when you went down on him. The night you'd told him you weren't overly experienced in blow jobs was the greatest night of his life, coaching you through what he liked and watching you perfect your generous technique time and time again. 

These days, you loved giving Bradley head. He gave you confidence, he made you feel sexy and not like it was only about him on the receiving end. He’s whispered and encouraged, and when it all got too much, he told you he was close. He was neither here nor there on the whole spit or swallow thing… until you and your preference but he was never left empty-handed.

"Shh," you hissed. "Not a sound." 

That one thing you did for him that absolutely made him come undone. And he'd bury his face in your pussy all day if you allowed him to show you how fucking grateful, he was for all the pleasure you presented him. Your sweet, tight wetness that he would eagerly drown himself in if you’d let him. 

Your honeyed tongue delicately tasted the flawless head of his cock, lapping up the precum as Bradley's eyes rolled back into his head and his big hands reached to knot into your hair as you went to work, swirling your tongue and looking up with your big, scheming eyes, knowing you had him at his most precarious. 

He was a weapon in his training, his mind and body were always primed to do what was asked of him, but you were the exception and it scared and excited him.

He could feel himself getting so close to painting the back of that beautiful mouth, and while it pained him to say it, the way your eyes softened told him he’d made the right choice. “Come on, baby, I want you.” 

You gently pulled away and asked, “You don’t want me to finish?”

“No, I wanna fuck, baby. Watch you lose control.” 

“Okay,” you said, your soft hand trading with your warm mouth to tenderly pump and tease him. 

“Gimme a sec. I don't have condoms close,” he whispered. “They're in my luggage.”

"Just pull out, sweetheart," you enticed him, wanting to feel all of him. It was so infrequent you fucked without protection, and of course, you both preferred it that way but after a pregnancy scare (or not, neither of you was really sure) a few months back, you'd both decided to stop tempting fate and ensuring there was a stash of condoms at his place, your place... the goddamn Bronco – Bradley understood that it was your body and you didn’t want to be on the pill. A condom was the least he could do, and he knew it. 

Bradley helped you move up his body and rest you above him. "Are you sure?" he kissed you, your gleaming teeth lightly stinging into his bottom lip with an affectionate nip. 

“I trust you,” you told him. "Cum where you need...”

Truth be told, he wanted to cum deep, but he licked back a wet smile and he moved to his knees to pull his navy tee over your head, bearing your beautiful breasts to him, full, round, nipples begging for attention. “On your back, baby,” he urged, guiding you under him, anticipating how wet you were for him, legs splaying open unashamed. He rested the head of his cock on your weeping cunt, his fingers spreading your bare lips and sweeping your slick across your clit, fascinated by that little peep of desperation from you. Your head fell back against the pillows, bliss sweeping through you as he sweetly pressed one finger into you. “Drippin’,” he reported, pressing in another finger and his thumb rubbing tenderly against your throbbing clit. “Gonna gush for me?” 

You probably would, Bradley’s ability to drag absolutely everything out of you blew your mind each time. “Need your cock. Fill me up, Bradley.” 

Pushing in, one delicious inch by delicious inch, licking his full lips as your back curved to take him as deeply as possible. He buried his face in your breasts, holding one in his calloused palm, eyes fluttering closed as he traced, left wet, open-mouthed kissed and tenderly bit the other, and the groan you let you made him clamp his palm over your mouth. “You’re so wet, baby,” he stared deeply into your eyes as he evened his breath with the first few rolls of his slender hips. "But you're gonna wake your parents if you don’t control yourself."

"Let them fuckin' hear," you muttered behind your hand (you’d die if they heard you though) as he chuckled and began his ruthless assault on your senses, one thrust at a time. 

"You're too good to me," Bradley reminded you in disbelief.  

"All for you," you confided, as you watched the beads of sweat break across his brow as you dug your nails into his well-worked traps, willingly knowing it would leave a mark courtesy of your fresh manicure. You raised your hips to meet his deep, plunging thrusts, fucking into you strong and deep. He felt incredible, you don't think anyone had loved on you as Bradley Bradshaw could. So thorough, and never one to leave you hanging. 

Too long, too sore? He'd pause and tenderly withdraw to hold you, reassuring you that it was fine, and your comfort was paramount. Too sensitive after coming too hard, he'd give you time to recover, finding other ways to bring you pleasure.

It was nice to be considered in your relationship, in your sex life especially. In the past, you'd been made to feel like a machine, if you didn't cum, partners still could, and you'd just deal with it. For a long time, that stuck with you and having someone consider you like Bradley would almost seem too good to be true at the start. 

But that consideration never lapsed. He was make-believe and you fucking hoped if this man and everything he brought to you was a dream that you’d never, ever wake up. 

Desperate to keep himself controlled, Bradley reached for the headboard of your old bed, gripping it for dear life as he tried so damn hard to avoid coming. He loved fucking you raw, and since birth control was completely your choice, you two had to stop playing this dangerous game. Because one day? It would beat you both.

"I need to cum, Bradley," you whined to him as he nodded, chewing his lower lip, and putting your delicate fingers in your mouth, not losing his rhythm. He knew. He knew how close you were. 

"Lemme see you touch yourself, baby. Get those fingers - " he gasped as you clenched around him. "Get 'em nice and wet and play with that sweet, tight pussy. Lemme see you fall apart.”

Before, language like that would embarrass you, but with Bradley, it only spurred you on. It was incredible the ways he’d helped you grow and mature as a friend, partner and lover. As instructed, and in the low early morning light, Bradley’s breath hitched, watching you touch yourself and you couldn’t help it, the beat of his cock against your g-spot, your fingers pressing rough circles into your clit and you started to come. 

“Yes, baby. Yes,” he urged, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering his sweet encouragement. “You feel so good, just a little mo – ” he forced his mouth against yours, kissing your pleasure to him, to keep the noise down. He wrapped his hand under your hip, lifting your waist to push harder into you as you trembled below him, your pussy clutching his cock, spasming as he shuddered against your lips. “Yes, baby.”

“Jesus, Bradley, fuck me,” you begged as his hips speed up like a piston, thrusting hard into your swollen, sensitive pussy, his hand clutching yours away from your strained clit and pressing intensely in your place, hoping to drag your orgasm out and as you fell, lifeless, back against the squishy pillows, pussy pulsating, Bradley grunted low he was coming and after his final few thrusts, he quickly withdrew and unloaded, stroking himself until he was spent, pearly ribbons of cum decorating your belly and breasts. 

He collapsed beside you, taking your cheeks in his face and kissing you wildly. “I love you. I love you, baby,” he kissed you again, and though you were spent, you returned his affections, because truly… you loved Bradley Bradshaw with your entire being. It was going to take a lot to change that. “Are you okay?” he asked, chest still heaving as he breathed, his pointer finger tracing through the mess he made on you.

“I’m good, sweetheart,” you assured him as he gave you one last, final kiss.

“Think that helped with your jetlag?” he teased.

“Makes me want another round,” you admitted as he chuckled and raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course you do,” he pressed a kiss into your pulse and lifted his lips back to yours, holding you close and just like horny teenagers, enjoying making out for a few moments in the afterglow. “Where’s that shirt gone?” he asked, peering over the side of the bed, and cleaning you up. “Jackson Pollack painting here.”

“Be less proud,” you told him as he snorted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect, but let me go pee,” you whispered as Bradley kissed you long and deep, he nodded into the kiss but was not quite ready to leave you leave him. 

“Go, clean up, baby,” he helped you up from the bed, your legs precarious and meandering like Bambi. “Careful,” he sighed, wistfully. But he knew it already, you were thoroughly fucked, just how he liked it. 

A few hours later and thankfully, a few more hours of sleep, your alarm woke you, the sun much higher in the sky and the heat of the day starting to rise. You’d showered and told him to come down when he was ready, you’d help your Mum with some brekky.

“You want eggs?”

“Anything,” Bradley admitted. “Famished.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” you cupped his face in your palms and kissed him lightly. “Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” he gave a small grin but didn’t much feel like lingering. After a quick shower, he dressed, annoyed he didn't pack any golf gear, at minimum the shoes that you gave him grief for every time he wore them, but maybe he'd treat himself and buy some at the course today. He rifled through his bag, clutching the velvet box in his palm tightly, convinced more than ever that this was real, this was happening and soon, he'd hope to have you wearing his mother's engagement ring too. 

Slapping on his CVN-71 cap, he knew you went a bit feral when he perched it backward. May as well leave you with good thoughts while he was out and about, asking your old man for your hand on the golf course. And if it went badly, it was also something to identify him when the authorities found him if your dad said no. 

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey gorgeous,

Would you be up for some angst ?

Maybe his niece (rhaenyras younger sister) was always the negleted child and after sometime she gets to be known as one of the greatest targaryens (she claims cannibal and is a beast when it comes to fighting and being a ruler) and she comes to the last dinner before her father dies and sleeps with daemon (who previously in her childhood made her feel worthless)

And when she avoids him after, he goes to her and shes like:

-Just so you know, that meant nothing

-what if it meant everything to me?

-not my problem

All I Ever Wanted

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The gods have weighed the scales, now you were only paying everyone their dues. It felt nice to hold the upper hand against your uncle for once.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: mentions/depictions of targcest (uncle and niece), fem!reader, mentions/allusions to sex, angst, bad fam relations, typos, etc.

A/N: idk im tired i hope you like it nonnie. i changed a bunch of stuff about the fic req so T_T i cant believe i managed to make it so long HAHHAHAHH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

Daemon could not believe it.

He could not believe that he woke up by himself.

He was soaking in his smugness, dripping with self-accomplishment and victory, eagerly rolling over to coo his musings of self-importance to his prey.

Yet you were gone.

And he did not understand it.

He did not appreciate the bile that was threatening to be regurgitated out of his pallet. A line grew between his brows as he ripped his blanket off. He roughly dressed himself in breeches and a shirt, then stormed out of this chambers.

Part of him was relieved to find you so quickly, another part was in pure offence to how nonchalant you acted in the gardens, eating a pear as you read a book.

"Skoro syt issi ao kesīr sīr early isse se ñāqatubis?" Daemon cut through your concentration on your page. You turned to him halfway through his sentence, full mouth slowing in its chewing.

"What do you mean 'why are you here so early in the morning', uncle?" you narrow your eyes, shaking the hanging foot from your crossed leg. The heavy, red velvet of your skirt barely moved at your actions.

Daemon walks over to you, unkempt long, platinum hair blowing with the morning breeze along with his loose shirt, "you should have woken up with me."

You watch him as he nears. When he reaches the bench you were sat upon, you bring your book to your lap, one hand in between the pages of where you stopped reading, "and why should I have done so, uncle?"

The tone in which you say this with simultaneously angers and excites Daemon. He adores a good challenge. You both know that.

The prince reaches out to your face, tilting your head up to him, "I'm not done with you, niece."

You roll your eyes. He chuckles as you stand.

You thoughtlessly discard the core of the fruit to the side and release your grip on your book in order to clamp it under your arm, "iksis ziry daor obvious bona iksan tetan lēda ao?"

Daemon stills. He watches as you, his sweet little niece, defiantly staring at him. You spat such words as 'is it not obvious that I am finished with you?' to him? Your uncle? Your star? He who you viewed as holy as the Seven you were so devout to? No. This surely was a jest. A game of cat and mouse.

Daemon's lips curve into a lopsided grin. He opens his mouth to join in the banter, and yet he was not given an opportunity to speak.

"I will leave now, since you're clearly persistent to bother me," you coldly say, moving past him in all audacity.

A scoff actually leaves him because of this. He catches your arm, lowly and dryly chuckling, "rūda lēda aōha tymptir, byka genes."

Quit with your game, little mouse.

"I'm not playing, and I'm not a mouse," you snip, pulling your arm out of his grip.

Now you were both looking at each other with furrowed brows, equally long and light air wafting with the wind.

"I got what I wanted from you, Daemon."

You word this so plainly, so carelessly, and yet it pokes at him, makes his insides churn.

"I've scratched my itch. I've satiated my curiously," you release the tension between your brows to contort your face into scorn, "I've unraveled you, and found you're just another man-- greedy, self-absorbed, and cannot show for all the talk they give."

Daemon scoffs, eyes narrowing. He steps closer, raising his nose as he lets your words get under his skin, "it is too early to toy with me like this."

The eyeroll you give strikes a chord in him as you mutter, "ah, kepus, ao sagon getting uēpa. Ȳdra daor ao jiōragon ziry?" Oh, uncle, you're getting old. Don't you get it? The hardness in his face falters when you continue, "there's no game between us. There's nothing."

Daemon pulls his head back. No. That's not you.

You slowly shake you're head, ratifying, "Iksan gaomagon lēda ao."

I'm done with you.

But who were you?

Last night, the young girl he used to braid the hair of burst into the hall, uninvited, with purpose. His decaying brother, Viserys, and the Hightower bitch was shocked, even your sister, Rhaenyra, was. Daemon, though, was amused by the the theatrics and whispered this your ear, telling you that you copied him.

It was clear when you replied, "except I was not exiled, uncle. I left and returned on my own will. Something you have never done and never will," that you were not that little girl anymore.

He watched you as you moved, as you carried yourself in the room with not a hint of reluctance. You came as... a woman. A woman.

His breath caught in his lungs as you recounted your stories with your beloved Cannibal, much to the aghast looks of others. He was not one of those who laughed at the notion your frailer version gave of claiming the dragon, and yet still, he could hardly believe the words that you surely uttered by your bitten lips himself.

Oh, your lips that then mused more private stories for his ears only later that night, your lips that he then took between his teeth even later, and that he then made to call out his name in the early mornings.

Who were you now?

That woman was not here. You were not the warrior that claimed the dragon, the vixen that clamed his soul, and, sure by the gods, not the little girl that claimed all eagerness to please everyone around her.

Who were you, you who was looking down at him, as though it was not he that read you bedtime stories, he that gave you treats under the banquet table, he that make you come undone beneath him last night?

How dare you discard him?

Daemon regains his gall, "I'm not done with you, niece."

You don't even look at him when you say, "I don't care," and walk away with that stupid book in your hands.

His nostrils flare. "Don't you fucking walk away from me," he quips, unwilling to chase, unwilling to bend or beg.

He watches as you make your way farther.

Against himself, in a brand of desperation, he hastens after you, grabbing your arm, pulling you back to face him. He heaves at your idle gaze, "you've worn my patience."

"It's only fair," you purse your lips, "you worn my time for nothing."

One of Daemon's eyes twitches.

"Bullshit," he chuckles.

You shrug and it enrages him.

It is bullshit and you both know it. And yet somehow, he's beaten to the punch again. He's left defenseless before his little niece and it's ripping at his seams.

"I honestly expected more from you, uncle," you pout, "but then again, I only thought so highly of you because I was a naïve child, just like you said I was all those years ago."

Daemon could not even respond as you hypnotize him by pushing his hair behind his ear, "I've met many men whilst my travels with Cannibal. Though I did appreciate your company, I'm sure you'd agree last night was as lack lustre as it was for me, right, uncle? Since you'd had a great many women yourself."

He watches you as you lean in. He can see the sheen, smell the remnants of pear on your mouth.

This was a trap. There was no real answer. He's been choked. You knew this. And now your lips were curving up.

"Your mind games don't work on me, child," Daemon finally gets to speak.

You laugh outright. You grab his arm as you sigh, "what? Is it so scary to reply to my words you evaded the question altogether?"

In another world, he'd have gone red faced at your words, but no, your mind games don't work on him.

But, oh, it does.

You got him piping like a kettle.

"Just so we're perfectly clear, uncle, so that I am certain we're on the same page," you clutch your book into your chest, "know, that everything, last night, meant nothing to me."

He speaks before he thinks. He can't even hate himself for it because he speaks like he can't even hear himself, "what if it meant everything to me?"

You knit your brows. You scoff out a chuckle, "now who's playing, Daemon?"

His breath audibly hitches. You hear it. You smile, "that's not really my problem, now is it?"

You horribly, so, so gently rub the pad of your thumb on his lips. He freezes as you turn back. Daemon watches you walk away for the second time. This time, he does not run after.

[bixbiboom]

@.marisha_ray: Creator Clash Fight Night Photo Dump.

📸 1-5 : @.mark_lomoglio_photo @.amaliearena

📸 6-10: @.caitlynmcgonigalphoto

Can’t believe it’s already been a week since stepping in the ring. After having so much of my life being about boxing the past year, the sudden downshift has been very bizarre. After taking some time, I think I want Boxing to have at least some small role in my life going forward. I’ve truly come to love it, and I’m so grateful to have had this experience to show that to me. With that, I wanted to thank the incredible people around me who helped make April 15th 2023 one of the greatest nights of my life so far:

To @.idubbbz and @.anisajomha for granting me this opportunity, and welcoming me into @.thecreatorclash family with open arms.

To my coach Josh, and my personal trainer @.danathletics and @.viciperf for being there every step of the way to hone my body and mind.

To @.manzirae for creating my wardrobe… an outfit so dope I truly felt like the badass from Dis that I hoped to be.

To @.themouthguarddoc for my custom mouthguard that truly completed the terrifying look!

To @.ramsiegel for not only being one of my biggest supporters, but for writing a walkout song that put Fred Durst to shame. And of course @.jessemckeil for this gnarly guitar riff and Peter Habib’s musical compositions to make “Pop Pop!” A legit banger of a song.

To @.stevefailows, for waking up early mornings and following me up mountains to document my journey. The final video piece he edited is a treasure that brings a tear to my eye every time.

To @.willingblam for being in my corner on fight night, and (let’s be honest) every night.

And last but certainly not least, my incredible husband @.matthewmercervo. His support was unwavering from day one. From the grocery runs to get me bags of ice for cold plunges, to making sure I had a healthy meal when I could barely lift my arms to cook. He was by my side every step of the way.

The truth is, this list could go on for miles. Everyone’s support is incredible and overwhelming. I hope everyone - from the fighters in the ring, to the fighters being the scenes, are extremely proud of what they accomplished. Creator Clash Fam for life!!

[sparklingchan]

The way I love you || Lee Minho (Stray Kids)

Pairing: Reader(fem.) X Lee Know

Word count : 4k+

Warnings : Sexual implications, making out, prostitution, mentions of alcohol, mentions of death, cuss words.

Genre : Romance, angst, royal AU, suggestive.

Description: He was a prince, bound by his duty. She was a harlot, longing for someone to love her truly. In stolen moments beneath the moonlit city, they dared to dream of a love meant to be.

A/N : HELLO MY TUMBLR FAM! I'm back again with the Royal fics haha. And this time it's my boi Lino<3 I hope y’all like this! It's one of my favorites!

And as I promised, I'll make a masterlist for all the Royal fics. Here is the link. Do check out the other fics in this series(the stories are not interrelated)!

Minho hates coming to the main market; he hates the sticky workers bumping into him, he hates the smell of burnt meat, he hates the sound of noisy instruments people play in the name of music.

The only things he does like about the market is the wine, and you.

"Here for y/n again, my Prince?" One of the courtesans-Taylor- asks him just as he enters the tavern. She wears the brightest of lipsticks and smells like jasmine.

"I'm here for the wine." He says, which is only half a lie.

"As you say, my prince," Taylor giggles, "Your y/n is on the third floor as always. She hasn't had any customers today."

He walks the flight of stairs without breaking sweat and knocks on your door, excitement bubbling inside him.

The door opens and he catches a whiff of your rose scented perfume.

"Well, hello there," you smile at him, "Long time, huh?"

He chuckles, "It's only been three days, y/n."

You pull him inside by his collar, shut the door behind him and immediately draw your mouth to his.

You'd missed him, clearly.

In your dark lit bedroom, many men entered everyday for the purpose of their pleasure. But Minho was the only who entered this room everyday only to please you.

"Excited, aren't we?" He asks you when you push him onto the bed and climb over him, "I missed you, y/n."

You kiss him again; this time with more force, more passion and a lot more tongue. He reciprocates your action with equal enthusiasm.

As the night grows colder and darker, you find yourself cuddling with the man under your quilt. The love bites on both of your bodies barely visible under the light of a single candle.

"I wonder what magic keeps me coming back for more everyday. " Minho says softly, his fingers playing with your hair.

"Oh, does the 'Perfect Prince' not want to be seen in a whore's bed? Does it embarrass him?" You ask, playfully.

His mouth twists into a smirk, "Never. Not even in a thousand years."

He kisses you again and again and again until the last candle dies out and the quilt finds its place in some corner of the floor.

*

"Taylor, it's too early to be bothering me with customers!" You yell first thing in the morning, still sleepy and still cold from the absence of Minho's body against you.

"Y/n, it's not a customer. I need to talk to you." She yells back, "Open the door."

Groaning, you push yourself towards the door.

"What is it?"

Her face lacks the usual cheerfulness. She looks grim. Sad, almost.

"Minho didn't wanna wake you up," she pulls an envelope from her pocket, "He asked me to give you this."

"Okay. I'll read it later." You mutter. It's not unusual for Minho to deliver love letters for you sometimes. What's so special about this one?

"Y/n, read it." Taylor says, "Now."

There's an underlying urgency in her words that she tries to mask but doesn't escape your notice.

You walk back to your bed and open the letter.

Hi, y/n.

This is probably the last time that I'm writing to you. I feel sick even just at the thought of being without you but I have to do my princely duties now.

I'm getting married to Princess Sophie soon. My father commands it.

Y/n, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me someday. I really meant it when I said I loved you.

Minho.

Inside the half empty envelope are a few coins of gold.

He paid you. For sleeping with him. For the first time ever.

It's as if the air is forced out of your lungs. You find it hard to breathe, hard to keep your eyes open, hard to even comprehend Taylor's questions.

You're not even in that room anymore.

You are by the river at midnight, with Minho. He'd set up a fire and covered the both of you with a quilt while he sung a soft melody.

You are in the rain, shouting profanities at each other. That was the day when he first told you he loved you.

You are at the tavern's terrace, kissing him for the first time.

You are at the Royal Palace. That's the day he first sees you, bold and loud, not afraid to say 'no' to sleeping with his monstrous father.

You are at the main market, buying a new pair of earrings when an injured Prince shows up at the shop. That's when you first see him.

You only had one regret at present.

You never got to tell him how much you loved him.

*

"Y/n, I know you're grieving but you cannot refuse customers anymore. You know this is what brings food to your table!" Taylor wraps a shawl around your half naked frame, "You always knew Minho could not just leave the palace and come live with you in this brothel, didn't you?"

You'd had another episode today; screaming and punching a customer while he tried to take your clothes off.

That's three days in a row.

If Taylor hadn't been there, the boss would have killed you with his own bare hands.

"I know," you say, "But I just...can't. I cannot bring myself to accept the fact that he burnt down the past year to the worth of a few coins. I have no lust for gold. I have no desire for a family, especially when my own father sold me here. I only loved him and now, he's fucking gone."

Taylor rubs your shoulders gently.

"Y/n, I know. But you have to get yourself together or you will only hurt yourself." She replies, "For all I know, he could be already married now. Sticking his fucking tongue in Sophie's mouth."

You look up at her.

"What do you mean? His wedding is today?" You ask.

She nods, "The city has been decorated like never before."

You force yourself out of her embrace and rush towards your cupboard.

"What are you doing, y/n?" Taylor asks.

"Going to crash a royal wedding."

*

Minho has developed a habit of looking for your eyes everywhere he goes. It's not a good one, but he can't seem to get rid of this habit.

And on his wedding day, as he stands at the alter, holding his fiancé's hand while the priest talks about loving, cherishing and honoring Princess Sophie for life, he cannot stop himself from looking for you in the sea of people.

Rich and powerful people from all over the world are present in the hall but somewhere in between these people, he sees a glimpse of someone he knows. Too well, in fact.

"Y/n?" He whispers to himself, heart pounding against his chest.

"Minho, are you alright? Your hands are getting sweaty." Sophie whispers but he just shrugs, his eyes glued to you.

As were yours, to his.

You didn't think he'd notice you amongst the velvet clad aristocrats but he did. And you wish he hadn't.

The bride and groom exchange wine glasses and have a sip from it.

"If anyone has any objections to this holy matrimony, speak now. Or hold your peace forever." The priest announces and the room goes quiet.

Of course no one would object to this wedding.

No one except you.

Minho sees a single hand raised among the crowd.

"Yes, miss?" The priest says.

"How could the prince marry another woman when his child grows inside me? What about the seed that he left behind? If I choose to give birth to this child, will it be your successor, my prince?"

Minho feels the blood drain from his face.

"You! How dare you?" Minho screams at you, his heart breaking into a million pieces. He would never speak to you in this way, but he has to. To protect you from this mess you'd created, he must be harsh.

He is the prince and he will be safe but you, they wouldn't spare you.

"How dare you?" You yell back, eyes bloodshot, "Do you think a few coins could make up for what you did to me?"

"Quiet! You whore! Dare you to disrupt a royal wedding with false accusations?" The king-Minho's father finally speaks. "Guards! Take her to the guillotine and bedhead her!"

"Father, no! I will deal with this in my own way." Minho says, almost losing his calm. "Guards, take the woman to the dungeons."

Your tears roll down your cheeks and you quickly rub them off with your hand as the guards take you down to the dungeons. You're sure he's gonna get you killed.

You take one last glance at the man you love and smile at him.

So long, Minho.

*

The wedding is called off and Princess Sophie storms out of the wedding hall along with her father. Of course, Minho's father was furious.

"I will kill her. I will kill her with my bare hands!" The king slams his fist against the table, "She ruined everything! Everything!"

"Father, please calm down." Hyunjin-Minho's younger brother says. "We have to think of a way to make up with Princess Sophie and her family."

"He's right. Being angry won't solve our problem." Minho says, twirling the wine in his glass, a playful smile on his face.

The king glares at his eldest son, walks toward him and smashes the glass from his hands.

"How dare you sit in my room, relaxed as ever, while you've fucked up so bad?" He yells, " You slept with a common whore, impregnated her and I have to suffer for it?"

Minho wants to defend himself but he knows it's of no use when the king raises his fist in the air and punches right at Minho's nose.

Minho smells the blood before he sees it.

Hyunjin tries to stop the king and mouths at Minho, leave now.

Minho does as he is told.

That night, as he cleans the blood from his face, he finally let's himself relax a little.

Today was a blunder, a total disaster but at least he didn't have to marry some other woman. He couldn't imagine life with a woman he didn't love. He considered himself a coward for not fighting for you enough, which is why you were in prison. Nevertheless, he swears to himself that he will save you from this mess. It didn't matter what he had to do, he would make sure you're out of prison by tomorrow.

"You're a reckless idiot, y/n." He mutters to himself, "But you're my reckless idiot."

*

You've never seen Taylor look this sad before. Her eyes are bloodshot and the tip of her nose shines red.

"I told you," she says to you, handing you some food, "I told you not to do this. Now look what they've done! Minho has you locked up and you can be sentenced to death any minute!"

"Well, it was worth a shot, really." You say to her.

Taylor snickers at your words, "Also, are you really pregnant or did you make it up to get his attention?"

You chuckle, "Of course I'm not pregnant. I just thought it would add a bit spice to the drama."

"Fine. Whatever. Just do not die on me, y/n. I swear. You're my.." Taylor sucks in a deep breath, "You're my only family. Please."

You blink your tears away before Taylor even notices. You take a spoonful of the porridge she made and stuff it in your mouth so you'd forget about her words. You're too weak for this right now.

"Y/n, just promise me-" Taylor is interrupted by the prison guard.

"Prince Minho is here to see you."

Even the porridge in your mouth does not stop your heart from aching and your eyes from tearing up.

Why is he here?

"Your majesty." Taylor greets him with the basic courtesy. You, on the other hand are looking at everything but him.

"Taylor, may I have a word with y/n alone? My guards here will take you up to my room. I have something important to discuss with you as well."

Taylor nods with a word and follows his guard.

Now it's just you and him. In a jail cell. While your heart breaks knowing he will serve you with capital punishment.

Is it the heavens punishing a common whore like yourself for loving the prince?

Perhaps.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Minho says in a soft whisper. His voice is filled with concern but you cannot look at him. Absolutely not.

If you even as much glance at those eyes you'd fallen in love with, you know you might lose all your will power.

"Fine." You reply sternly, "What do you want?"

Minho sucks in a deep breath, "I wish I had more time to explain but it'll all make sense some day, okay? For now, just trust me."

He offers you a vial of clear liquid.

"It's not anything bad, I swear. Just trust me, please. " He puts it on your palm.

His touch sends shivers down your spine.

And just like that, he turns around and walks away.

You stare at the vile in your hands and for a split second, you wonder if he'd handed you some type of poison. You wish he did.

And when you open the vial and gulp down that bitter liquid, you pray to the gods that you never wake up again because that's when your body hits the ground.

*

Hyunjin is anxious from the moment he wakes up in the morning.

He's anxious while he has breakfast, he's anxious while he avoids the eyes of palace officials to sneak into the old quarters of his mother.

He's especially anxious when he sees you lying on the bed, lips pale and stiff.

"I hope this works for God's sake." He pulls out a vial of purple liquid from his pocket and carefully, pours it into your mouth.

He curses Minho for handing him with the scariest possible task ever.

And as he paces the room, waiting for the antidote to work, he prays to every God, every spirit, every deity he's ever heard of.

Within a few minutes, much to his relief, your eyes open.

You look at Hyunjin alarmingly.

"You..You're his brother." You say, almost as if accusing him of a crime, "Aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm Hyunjin." He seats at the foot of the bed, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. But my head hurts real bad." You reply, "Where's Minho? That bastard gave me a bitter drink and disappeared!"

Hyunjin notices your hopeful gaze go from the ceiling of the room to his face and then to his outfit. The mourning outfit.

"Why are you in mourning? And why are you wearing that badge with a dove on it?" Your voice is alarmed and you immediately sit up.

You remember Minho had once told you that the dove badge worn by the Royal family implies a death of a member of the Royal bloodline.

"Is Minho okay?" Your words are almost a whisper.

"Well, y/n, it's a little complicated, I will be honest but if you come with me now and trust me on this-"

"Why the fuck does every keep on asking me to trust them? What is going on? Either let me die in peace or let me leave this palace! I cannot take this anymore. And, for the love of God, would you tell me if Minho is okay or not?"

"He's alive." Hyunjin sighs, " Everyone thinks he committed suicide last night. The city is mourning the death of their crown prince. "

You're confused, "But he's alive, right?"

Hyunjin manages a smile, "Yes, he's alive. He staged his death and is waiting for you by the river bank. "

You jump out of the bed at once, heart pounding against your chest.

"Take me to him, please."

*

The river bank is the most beautiful place in the city, filled with shops and tourists and traders and singers and life. It's beautiful. Unlike your room in the brothel, which was as lifeless as anything could get.

The only one who made that room lively was Minho.

Minho who taught you to play cards, Minho who once beat up a customer because he was harassing you, Minho who promised he'd give anything to get you out of that hell hole.

Minho who loved you.

Now, Minho stands by a boat, wearing a straw hat and gripping his sword tightly. Taylor stands beside him, a brown package in her hands.

And when Minho's eyes meet yours, you run to him as if he'd run away if you didn't, disappear into thin air, leaving you alone in that cold dark room once again.

And oh! Minho is so warm as he wraps you in his embrace. He's warm like the sun on the coldest winter morning, warm like a cup of tea, warm like a freshly baked cookie. He's warm and he's yours.

"What..what is going on?" You sob into his embrace, "Please, will you stay with me? Minho, please?"

Minho is crying too, which is surprising because you've never seen him cry. Upset maybe , but crying never.

Yet here he is crying like a newborn baby, crying because a part of him knows he's managed to save you somehow.

"I'm not leaving okay?" He says, still crying, caressing your cheeks, "We're gonna go far from this city. We're never coming back okay?"

You can only nod as Taylor gently pats your head.

"This is a farewell gift. From me." She smiles at you, handing you the package, "It's a wedding dress that I made. I hope you can wear it when the day comes."

And you're crying again. But this time, you're crying into Taylor's embrace. It's hard leaving behind someone who loved you like a sister.

"We'll write to you. We promise. As soon as we find a proper place to stay, we will write to you both. " Minho says, to Taylor and to his brother.

"Sorry for burdening you with this country. " Minho whispers when Hyunjin hugs him, "I hope you forgive me someday."

"Bullshit. Really, I've always wanted to kill you and get this crown for myself. You only made my job easier." Hyunjin jokes, patting Minho's back.

Minho chuckles. The boatman catches his eye and points to the sun.

"We should get going now, y/n. They'll be holding a prayer in the afternoon and we cannot risk anyone seeing us before we leave."

You nod, kissing Taylor's head softly, holding her gift close to your chest.

"Do visit us sometime." You say to both of them and they nod in unison.

Minho helps you on the boat and hands a few coins to the boatman.

The soft current of the river pushes your boat farther away from the shore, Taylor and Hyunjin wave goodbye to you. You feel horrible leaving behind the city of your birth. You feel empty and cold.

But Minho wraps his arms around you and the coldness vanishes. Minho is warm, and from now on, he's only yours.

*

4 years later.

"Your baby is fucking killing me, Minho." You groan as you get up from the sofa in your bakery.

You'd been sitting and munching on cookies for way too long perhaps.

"Hey, don't curse in front of the baby." He hushes you, caressing your bump. You feel the baby kick again.

You both laugh.

"Come on." He takes you by the hand and drags you to the sofa once again, ignoring all your protests.

Ever since you'd entered the seventh month of your pregnancy, Minho refused to let you do any work. And by any, you meant any work that involved physical activity.

In the mornings, he forced you to watch him sweep the floors whilst you made him breakfast. In the afternoons, he forced you to sit at the cash counter of your bakery and watch him bake stuff tirelessly while you interacted with the customers.

In the evening, he gives you snacks while he cleans up the bakery for tomorrow.

In the night, he holds you close while he whispers sweet nothings into your ears.

It was a routine but you'd come to love this routine.

You wouldn't trade it for the world.

"What are you thinking?" He pulls you closer and plants a kiss on your lips.

"Just something. " You reply, embarrassed.

"Tell me, love. What is it?"

And how could you ever say 'no' to him if he used that tone on you?

"Well, I was thinking," you mindlessly fiddle with his fingers, "Do you ever regret giving up the throne for me? I mean, you're royalty. And here you are washing dishes and baking cookies every day. You could have lived a lavish life, you know."

You sound sad, guilty even.

Minho chuckles at you. But doesn't say anything.

Instead, he pulls your face closer and kisses you. Passionately. Softly. Lovingly.

When he pulls away, you feel breathless.

"Does that answer your question?" His sincere eyes look into yours, his hands on your belly, "I wouldn't trade this for the world."

You pull him back in for a kiss because that's all you'd ever wanted to hear.

And because Minho is warm and he smells like cookies and he's yours.

[writeandsurvive]

Well, @mandy426, you asked for it, so here you go. Hope you'll enjoy it! 🫣 Inspired by the picture below (because how could we not?)

Summary: Alden comes home one night in his undercover outfit

Warnings: nsfw, established relationship, wall sex, piv, unprotected sex, undercover!Alden, biker!Alden, kinky reader ig?,

Undercover ~ Alden Parker

Alden was very clear from the beginning; his job takes a lot but doesn't give much. You were okay with that as you'd have dealt with whatever, just to be with this man. You did underestimate how bad it could be though. The long hours, the physical and emotional exhaustion he deals with, the missions away from home, and more. There were definitely hard times, where you wish Alden had a boring 9 to 5 job, but you immediately felt guilty thinking this. He obviously loves being a federal agent, and you do admire him for it.

The worst was kissing him goodbye in the morning and not knowing if you'd see him again. But there's nothing you wouldn't do for this man, so you learned to deal with this fear and anxiety and make the best of the time you have with him.

Eventually, something new came up; Alden was going undercover. He didn't say much about it, just that he probably won't be home much, and if somehow you run into each other in town, pretend that you don't know him, unless he comes over to you. Honestly, you hoped this wouldn't happen.

He's been undercover for two weeks and you had barely seen or heard of him. It was hard, but luckily, his best friends Tobias and Jeremy have been giving you updates on Alden, they kept checking on you, spending evenings with you. Plus, you have a supportive family who's always there for you.

When you heard the sound of keys opening the door, you actually got scared for a second, forgetting that your partner had the keys and could come home whenever he could. You stood up from the couch to meet him at the door, but you stopped as soon as your eyes laid on him. It didn't look like your Alden at all.

"Honey, hey!" He rushed over to you and hugged you tight. "I can't stay long, but I'm missing you so bad."

You hugged him back, still quite puzzled. Your nose was buried in a leather jacket you've never seen before. Alden let go just enough to kiss you. "Are you alright?" He asked, stroking your cheeks and looking at you from head to toes. "Baby?"

"Are you undercover as a biker or a hipster?" You looked more at the leather jacket, the black hoodie under, the beanie on his head, the full beard - he only had the mustache since you met - the boots. You've never seen Alden dressed like this before, and you never imagined he would. But damn, did he look even hotter.

"Oh, yeah, um. Biker, actually. I know it doesn't look like me."

"Are you riding a bike?"

"Isn't what bikers do?" He chuckled. "Plus, I had my biker phase in my early twenties, so I'm not entirely new to this."

"Y-you did? How come you never told me? Or shown me pictures?" You exclaimed, sounding like you were upset.

He laughed a bit more, "I don't know, it never came up. My fam hated it."

"I don't care about your family! I wanted to know!"

Alden got closer to you again, putting a strand of hair behind your hair and softly brushing your skin that was turning pink. "Is this look turning you on, baby?" He whispered in a husky voice. He was smirking, clearly aware of the effect this was having on you. You were blushing even more and you swallowed thickly.

"Maybe." You whispered back.

Then he grinned as his hands traveled south, roaming over your breasts. He leaned over, pressing his forehead against yours. "Not necessarily what I had in mind, as I just needed to see you, but I'd be damned to deny you."

You were the one who reached for the heated kiss. His beard was probably hurting your skin but you couldn't care less. You stroked it before enjoying feeling the leather under your fingers. Alden made you walk backwards until you were pinned against the wall. His lips and tongue found that sweet spot in your neck, earning a loud moan from you. You wrapped a leg around him, his hands traveling under your - his - shirt to find you braless. He growled and played with your tits, still ravaging your neck, jaw and lips.

"Alden, I need you." You whimpered, rubbing yourself against the bulge in his jeans.

"I suppose I should keep the clothes on?" He chuckled, freeing his cock and giving it a few pumps.

"You better."

Alden got rid of your night shorts, and took advantage of dropping on his knees to kiss your intimate parts and gave a few licks on your clit. His beanie flew to the ground as you held onto his hair. The beard was giving more sensation than just the mustache.

"You taste so delicious." He got back to his feet, and held one of your legs up. "Ready for me, babygirl?"

"Yes, always! Fuck me, please!"

He didn't need to be asked twice and found the perfect angle to slip his length inside you. Both crying out, like you hadn't had sex in months. Alden gave you time to adjust before pumping in and out of you. "Fuck baby, you're taking me so good."

It wasn't romantic nor sweet, but rather rough and animalistic. You were trapped between his strong body and the wall, and loved every second of it. It wasn't long until you were cumming, shouting his name over and over again, holding onto his hair and the leather jacket. It was all he needed to cum deep inside you.

Feeling that his legs were pretty weak, Alden gently put you down and you felt his cum going down your inner thighs. "I need to sit," he said, taking the jacket off. You needed to sit too and luckily the couch wasn't far away. You grabbed your shorts and put them back on, not caring about the mess on you. "I'm an old man, you can't do this to me." He laughed, still trying to catch his breath.

"You can't do this to me!" You exclaimed, straddling his lap. "I hope there are no women around you."

"Don't worry about that." He reached for a meaningful kiss. "You're the only woman for me."

[stillafanofsonic]

Alternate Ending:

-OSS of Tom climbing up stares, you can still see Sonic in the space his frame isn’t covering-

Tom: Hey there buddy, you’re up early!

-FS of Sonic curled up as Tom sits next to him revealing his cast. Sonic curls up tighter-

Tom: Sonic…? Everything Ok?

-MCU over the shoulder of Sonic tentatively looking at Tom. His eyes fall to his cast before redirecting his gaze back at the horizon.-

Sonic: I… Yeah, I just I couldn’t sleep.

-MS of Tom looking over Sonic worried. The quills on top of his head are barely visible in frame-

Tom: Do you wanna talk about it? … Buddy?

-FS of both of them-

Sonic: I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about him. Walter’s was right, he was just like me, but. (Sonic takes a deep breath, his voice gets a little unsteady) But I couldn’t help him, not like you helped me!

-MCU of Sonic as he uncurls to face Tom, guilt written all over his face-

Sonic: I couldn’t save him dad!

-Tom’s hand enters the frame, tenderly petting Sonic’s quills back as the hedgehog screws his eyes shut-

Tom: Oh Sonic…

-MWS of Tom pulling Sonic close. He leans tiredly against his dad, his frame now lose from its earlier defensive stance. They stay silent for a couple of seconds-

-MCU of Sonic, his eyes not all there, thinking, until Tom speaks-

Tom: You did save him.

Sonic: What?

Tom: You saved him Sonic.

-Sonic’s expression keeps shifting as he takes in Tom’s words-

Tom: If things went down how you told me, then you helped Shadow realize you could let go of all that anger and make new choices that felt right by him. And…

-Sonic’s POV of Tom, a bit troubled but decided, before looking at the horizon-

Tom: And even if his…gone. I know he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

-Tom looks over fondly at Sonic. Cut to CU of the kid’s face, his eyes widening with a mixture of sadness and a deep borrowed relief-

Tom: You saved his heart Sonic. And as long as you remember him, and what he did for you, for us, all of us. He’ll continue to live on.

-Sonic looks back at the horizon. Cut to an EWS taken from the back as the Sun finally rises then Cut again CU of Sonic-

Sonic: Because the light still shines… even after the stars are gone.

-MS of Tom’s profile who looks at Sonic with a curious smile-

Tom: Yeah. I guess they do.

-FS on both of them as Tom pats Sonic on the shoulder and stands up-

Tom: I’ll go start breakfast, ok son? Come down when you feel ready.

Sonic: Thanks Tom.

-Tom leaves the frame. Sonic stands up, smiling with the determination at the new day. Slow Zoom in-

Sonic: Sayonara, Shadow the Hedgehog.

-The camera rotates to a wide back shot as Sonic turns to leave-

-MUS: Run It. FU-

Sonic: MORNING FAM! Say, didn’t we have some unfinished business from last time?

-cut to the race as the song takes over the scene-

————————

Holy shit, this was longer than I thought.

OH. OH. THIS IS PERFECT

[tar-maitime]

talking to the air

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo Relationships: Maedhros/Fingon, fem!Maedhros/Fingon, Maedhros & Sons of Feanor, Maedhros & Maglor & Elrond & Elros (mentioned) Additional: post-Nirnaeth, 2nd & 3rd kinslayings, War of Wrath, grief and mourning, background kidnap fam and gil-galad russingonion for flavor WC: 1.5k

Four times Maedhros talked to Fingon when he wasn't there...

“Why did you do it, you mad, mad fool?”

Maedhros half-shouts it through gritted teeth, pacing back and forth in her room in Amon Ereb. Her brothers can probably hear her ranting, but they know to leave it alone. They’re not who she’s talking to, anyway.

If she keeps the bed out of her line of sight, she can almost trick herself into believing that he’s sitting there actually listening. He’s not, he’s gone, gone, gone, and the gaping dark place in the back of her mind proves it, but she can pretend.

“Why were you on the front line to begin with? Have we not lost enough kings that way? Why couldn’t you have commanded from somewhere safer? Why couldn’t you have run, at least tried to run, when we knew we couldn’t win? Why did you have to be the hero?”

She knows why, of course, even without him here to tell her. Fingon was good and noble and would never ask his people to spend their lives without his being right alongside them. It is horrible and selfish of Maedhros to wish otherwise, to wish he had let just a few people lay down their lives for his instead of...

“You left me,” she spits out bitterly. “You left me, Finno. How could you do that? How could you expect me to forgive that?”

She sobs, and her knees go out from under her. “How can you forgive me for leaving you first, for retreating? I’m sorry, Finnonya, I’m so sorry.”

- - -

“I miss you.”

She says it almost casually, looking out from Amon Ereb’s battlements in the early morning. “It still hurts, every day - so badly some days, Finno - but I’m learning to live with it.”

It’s barely dawn; no one else is around. Maedhros has made sure to do this absolutely alone ever since the time, a few months ago, when Maglor had caught her at it and ventured to ask if Fingon was haunting her as a houseless spirit, tethered to her somehow. She’s snarled at him, spat that she could never be that selfish, that Fingon’s spirit was safe in Mandos and if he couldn’t have lived, then that was best.

There’s no one actually here that she’s talking to; she is sane enough still to know that. But it brings her comfort even so.

“It doesn’t feel like I should be able to. It doesn’t feel like we should still be living at all, sometimes, when so much is lost. But if we just stop, then Morgoth wins again, and I don’t know that I’m capable of that.”

She looks out over the mist that’s slowly parting to reveal the shape of the land, and leans on the parapet. She pretends, just for a moment, that she can feel the warmth of a familiar body leaning next to her, on her left where her vision’s never been quite right since Angband. 

“I think we’re settling in here, as much as we can settle in anywhere,” she comments. “It’s strange, to have a home that I’ve never gotten to show you. Everywhere else I’ve lived, you got to visit. I almost wish we’d come down here sometime, before the Bragollach, just so that I could have known you saw it with me.”

She pauses. “And no, watching the tapestries in the Halls doesn’t count. If you are.”

On her more self-loathing days, she thinks he couldn’t possibly want to waste more time being bothered about her. On her more cynical days, she thinks the Valar would never allow him the kindness of remaining informed about events on this side of the Sea. But this morning is neither, and she indulges in the pleasant thought that Fingon might know she’s talking to him, even though he isn’t here.

She spends a handful of minutes telling him the news of Amon Ereb, and the small doings of her brothers, before she has to begin her day in truth.

- - -

“I can’t do this. I can’t - I can’t do this.”

Maedhros sits on the edge of her bed, hunched over. She drags her fingers through her hair - still shorn close, all these years later - and tries to control her breathing. 

“I don’t know what to do, Finno, I - the Girdle’s gone, and Lúthien’s dead, and Tyelko and Curvo won’t listen to me anymore. They’re going to Doriath with or without me - they’re going to get themselves killed. And the Oath - ai, it claws at me for even thinking of trying to prevent them.”

She’s held the Oath back for years already - truly impossible circumstances will lull it to sleep for a time, and she’s been very good at convincing herself and her brothers that Melian and Lúthien constitute impossible circumstances just as much as Morgoth currently does. Before, long before, Fingon had kept it almost unnoticeable at times, her older vow easing the bonds of her later one.

But he’s gone, and there is no starlight in her mind, only the Oath and the waiting darkness and the raised voices of her brothers screaming at each other.

“I wish you were here,” she says desperately. “I wish you would come and help me with this. Somehow. Any way at all. Just by being here, even.”

She lets her hand drop, grips the stump of her wrist until her nails dig in.

“Or maybe,” she adds more quietly, “maybe it’s best. Maybe I would just drag you along with us.”

- - -

Sirion is burning around her. The soldier dead at her feet is wearing Fingon’s colors and sigil.

An escape from the Nirnaeth, some corner of her mind notes with detachment. Perhaps he went with Turgon’s retreating forces to Gondolin, and then here when that city fell. Only to be felled, after all that, by his former king’s disgraced kinslaying wife.

A dark, bitter chuckle seeps out of her. “Do you see?” she rasps. “Do you see what I have become?”

There is no answer, of course. Maedhros doesn’t even try to pretend that he’s there with her. 

He would not deign to give her even a scrap of his attention now. Not that she deserves it.

- - -

They’re camped somewhere in the middle of the wilderness, picking their way back to where Amon Ereb is hopefully still standing. Maedhros looks over at where Maglor is stretched out asleep, his arm over the tiny peredhil twins that are curled up against him. Against all sense or wisdom, he’s been stubbornly attached to them ever since he stumbled on them in the ruins of Sirion, and (displaying even less good judgment) the twins seem to have decided to overlook his sacking of their home in favor of latching onto him as the one safe thing in a world gone mad.

It can only end in tears, but Maedhros has had even less luck than usual persuading Maglor of that.

She tilts her head back, looking at the sky.

“What do I do now, Finno?”

The only starlight that answers is that which she can see above her.

- - -

...and one time when he was there.

The battlefield is chaotic and nightmarish, and Maedhros feels right at home.

Finally, finally, she has a chance to do something unequivocally right, to extinguish Morgoth’s creatures in as great quantities as her strength will allow. Perhaps she may even be permitted an honorable death in battle, one of these days, but until that occurs, she is going to be as much help as she can.

They have an unspoken agreement, her and Gil-galad and Finarfin. She will keep her forces well away from those of her once-adoptive-son and her uncle, and help the war effort however she can, and they in return will let her alone to do so rather than pursuing the issue of the kinslayings.

Someday, she might let them do so. Maglor has talked of it. But first, they must lay hands on the two Silmarils still in play, and raise the not-quite-grown twins (and keep them firmly off the actual battlefield), and also do something about the great number of orcs and other monsters that never seem to stop coming.

There is a gap, for a moment, a breathing space. Some of Finarfin’s forces are fighting nearby, though per usual they have not made contact. Maedhros glances their way as she moves towards the next wave of the enemy, and--

--stops. Catches the briefest impression of something, someone familiar. 

Finarfin’s fighters wear cloaks the color of elanor, and Gil-galad’s wear a blue that’s almost gray. But the warrior at the head of the pack is cloaked in deep, deep blue, and she swears she sees dark braids woven with gold escaping from under his helm.

He twists, and dark eyes meet hers.

“Finno?” Maedhros says, barely aloud, half without knowing it.

She doesn’t even register the orc chieftain coming up behind her.

[0ptol-mea0]

Everyone knows

Falkoff/Simcoe

ion know fam. i guess im the only one that sees the truth in this dead fandom lmao. (SRRY about grammatical errors im trynna spit this out before work :’’3)

=

Fall mornings were fucking cold. That one thing was for sure.

McInnis’s teeth chattered, the fire that someone had just started hardly any reprieve from the freeze currently assaulting him. The sun had barely graced the horizon, it’s warming rays a gift that couldn’t come fucking fast enough.

Men bustled around him, Tanner throwing a joke over his shoulder about McInnis’s tolerance to the weather, earning him a rude gesture in return that made him bark with laughter. 

He watched them from where he had buried half of his face in his scarf, noting a lack of one particular man.

Falkoff.

The man would usually be out at this time, barking orders in the captain’s absence. McInnis swiveled his head along the camp, he really was nowhere, he couldn’t possibly be asleep still, could he? Unless he had fallen ill, in which case that could turn into a problem quick in these frigid conditions.

McInnis liked Falkoff, would consider him a pretty well friend, so there was just enough motivation for the man to step away from his coveted heat source to get a wider view, but still not seeing even a glimpse of blond.

He was lost in thought until he heard footsteps, swinging around to face O’Sean, who was looking equally lost.

‘‘Mornin’, have you seen the captain anywhere?” the private asked, cheeks rosy from the bite of the cold, McInnis shook his head, ‘‘No, ‘avn’t seen Falkoff either”

McInnis hummed in thought, looking to the ground as if it would give him an answer. Maybe they were in the captains tent discussing important matters, surely that was the only place they could be?

“I’ll go see if they’re in the captains quarters, surely must be important if it’s taking them this long” McInnis offered, O’Sean nodded and went off to busy himself.

The walk wasn’t long at all, and in no time the tent was but only a few steps away. McInnis raised his hand to one of the wooden beams to knock, but was stopped short, and almost bowled over, by Falkoff. 

The other man looked...McInnis really couldn’t put his finger on it. Falkoff wore an almost shocked expression, brown eyes blown wide, blond hair crowning his face in a shockingly messy manner, hanging loose around his shoulders. His face was red, more like he had just run a mile than from embarrassment, and his mouth hung open just slightly. He was half dressed, his jacket and gaiters hanging from his arms, his cravat stuffed loosely into his shirt collar.

There was no exchange of words, except for a soft “Pardon me”, from Falkoff, as he nearly bumped shoulders in his bid to fly past McInnis, who was stood stock still. what?...what? 

There was a cough behind him, and he turned to find Motlow, with an unreadable expression painting his face. 

He slowly joined the man, who was beckoning him over with increasing urgency. Motlow started to grin the further they walked away, barely containing indignant giggles that confused an already confused McInnis.

“You saw that too, right?” McInnis asked, still toiling over possibilities and scenarios in his head for what that possibly could have been.

“Aye’ man, av’ been seein’ it, glad someone else has too” Motlow replied, still ate up in laughter as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

“This happens often?”

“Yep, damn near every mornin’ now, but even I’m shocked, this is the latest Falkoff has been trynna hurry back to his tent”

“For what? even if they were gonna discuss plans this early in the damn mornin’ couldn’t Falkoff just get ready in the captains tent? or just get ready before headin’ that way?”

Motlow paused, then turned to look at him, brows knotted as if what McInnis just said made absolutely no sense at all. Then, his expression changed to one of utter indignation.

“That’s what you think is going on?”

“Well what the bloody hell else could it be?!”

Motlow looks to his left, then to his right, then when he concluded there was no one in their immediate vicinity, he leaned in to whisper in McInnis.

A moment.

Two.

McInnis jumped back, face torn in shock.

“THEY’RE WHAT??”

Just then, Falkoff rushed past them, eyes glued to the ground, face burning red hot.

[croissantbae]

October 16, 2023

The past few weeks have felt like a whirlwind. While I’ve been on my phone constantly the past few weeks it was almost exclusively to take photos and communicate immediately with folks to coordinate meetups. I barely looked at insta or my emails. It was seriously wonderful. Today I went through my photo album of the past few weeks and it doesn’t feel like there are enough photos. I legit feel like there should be more based on how full the trip felt.

I’m not even going to attempt to summarize the trip. I’ll just jot down a few thoughts.

1. Even though we were with the kids 24/7 and they were driving us crazy at times, now that I have to leave them I feel really sad and I miss them so much. I really do just love our family. Same goes for extended family too. After my mom/bro/sil/Shiloh departed, it felt like we weren’t whole without them. We could feel the lack of their presence. My mom is also seriously so clutch. She came to our house before we landed, made bap and miyukgook, and then picked us up from the airport. The miyukgook sVed our lives. We ate it for dinner and then as a post sleep meal when the girls were up in the wee hours of the morning. And then for breakfast the next day lol. She’s also coming tomorrow to take the girls to school because Jason has an important meeting. I would want to pay it forward for our kids but I’m generally assuming they won’t have kids (bc of climate change).

2. Adjusting to time zone changes is a bitch. The kids were waking up super early and sleeping very little when we went. And adults got virtually no sleep in the plane ride over. The girls slept fairly well but they were really squished lying next to each other on the seats. I actually got sick on the second day in and I think it was mostly from extreme sleep exhaustion (because we were already deprived from the sleep training saga and nerves not being able to sleep from starting a new job). It felt pretty miserable those first few days but thankfully the whole fam was there to watch the kids so I could get some rest. Now coming back we’re also getting terrible sleep and the kids have been awake anywhere from 11 to 4 am but I actually feel like I’m still sleeping better this time around. Today the girls slept in until noon and then I took them to school at around 2 just so they could play for a few hours. Hopefully they wake up earlier tomorrow and can actually go to school on a relatively normal schedule. Godspeed to my mom.

3. My grandma is so old. Like seriously. She was sooo happy to see us she was trying her best to keep up with us. She was actually walking so fast I was shocked. But she said she didnt care if she died she was going to walk as fast as she could so she could hang with us and not be seen as a burden. I could tell she really enjoyed herself and she bonded a lot with Dani. Jason’s grandma is much older than my grandma (I think by 10 years) but she’s still soooo healthy. She walks with a cane now but I love how social she is. We told her we’d come by to hang out the next day but she said she couldn’t because she was busy with her friends 😂. When we hung out w Jason’s family they took us to their local gogi jib (one we went to years ago too) and wansun Emo made me drink w her so I drank a bottle of soju and she drank a bottle of makgeoli lol. It was a lot of fun and the girls were thankfully well behaved.

4. Overall the kids really seemed to love Korea and want to go back. I fell in love with jejudo and seriously want to go back to the same hotel. But if we did go I wonder if it would be nearly as magical without the whole friend group there 🧐. I suspect not but there’s a different kind of fun just being with family too.

[now-we-say-c0ral]

March 27, 2023

Woke up at 5.15am because Eddie's going to be climbing before working. Morning kisses and a brief cuddle and off he goes. Played Wordle before sleeping and the word today was one of the weirder ones in the game. Woke up again at around 11am and called mommy and Aira. Kind of told them off for not saving some of the money I send them. I told them that I'm not one to contact when some emergency happens because I barely have money for myself. I need to enjoy life and when you don't have money it's kind of hard, you feel me right fam? I mean I can't just work my ass off and not enjoy, right? I think telling them that now rather than later will save me and them from having problems.

Took a bath around 12pm and kind of underestimated the time that I have left to get to GOSH. Ran towards Custom House Station and thankfully got to the train in time otherwise it would have been another 11 minutes of waiting and my appointment was around 1.30pm. Got to Tottenham Court Road Station and took the eastbound Central Line to Holborn and walked my way to GOSH. It was a rather long walk. As I was walking I was thinking how this is going to be my life in the coming months. Waking up a bit early, taking 2 trains, and a 10 minute walk from the station to the hospital. Well, it's the development I want. I have to commit. I was also looking for a gym near work so I can go there after shifts to workout. No luck. The tour with Sam, my new manager, was very fascinating. He took me down and showed me 18 theatres and the cases that they did. It's definitely bigger than Kingston's. I'm pumped to say the least. Also scared, but I'm up for the challenge. After the tour, I went to Chinatown because I was craving for their pork buns and decided to buy Eddie some because well, I just like feeding him for some reason. If you date me, I'm definitely the sweet type. Everything I do, I'll definitely think of you. Went to UCLH to give Eddie his pork buns and I can tell he was smiling even when he was wearing a mask and he sent me the cutest text after. Got to Warren Street and took the Victoria Line to Vauxhall and missed the National Rail back home so I had to wait for another 13 minutes. Got home and sorted my BRP which is now scheduled to be delivered this Saturday so I have to cancel my waiting list. Went to the gym and did chest, some back because the equipments were being used, abs, and a 10 minute walk in the threadmill. Went to Aldi and bought some groceries. Cooked some air fried chicken and some rice with pease and bought some sandwiches and protein pudding for snacks tomorrow. Did the laundry and took a bath and now I'm rested. To end, I've ordered some clothes from Boohooman so I can feel better in the gym. I hope they arrive tomorrow.

I had such a productive day today. I had a lovely stroll around London today and to be honest I just want to see more. I'm excited to meet the people I'll be meeting very soon and I just know that things are going to turn up for me.

Today's thoughts are about being ambitious. I think it's time for me to dream. To want something more out of the mundane that I have right now. I'll make a list of the things I want to do and explore, like a bucketlist, and I'll make them happen.. It'll take most of what I have-- to outgrow my shell and go out of my comfort zone but I know I can do it. I have to.

[badolmen]

Celebrities be like “vote! It’s the only way to fix the damage Trump has done! If we don’t get him out of office things will get worse! 😌😁” Like fam you have the money and connections. Back in my day people like you would do the sensible thing and hire assassins or poisoners or someone who could throw a rock like, really hard.

[strangelockd]

Today Is The Day

18+ ONLY CONTAIN HEAVY FILTH & SMUTT

Pairing: StephenStrange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It's Christmas morning and Stephen has a surprise for you. But first he wants to take care of you after all you did for him the night before.

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: Fluff with smutt, Oral female receiving, cursing, dirty talk, soft Stephen, fingering, kinda proof read.

A/N: Happy Christmas Benedict fam!!! Here's something I whipped up this morning. My gift to you is the continuation of Like What You See Doctor. I hope you all had a happy and safe holiday. I love you all.

Soft morning light broke through the bedroom curtain of the Sanctum blanketing your shared room with an amber colored warmth. Stephen had the fire burning and the tree was lit in all its beauty, creating a homely feeling against the snowy weather outside. Rubbing his hands together he turned gaze towards you sleeping peacefully on the bed, your hair splayed out from tossing through the night with your head barely poking out of the covers. Making his way back to the bed he shed his pajama bottoms off sliding back into the warmth if the bed. But he had no plans for going back to sleep. Smiling he snuggled back against you draping his leg over yours. He ground his hips gently against your ass making him exhale a deep groan. You felt the soft tickle of Stephens goatee against your jawline as he peppered your face with kisses trying to rouse you softly from your slumber.

“Mmmm,” you softly groaned turning over facing your man rubbing the tiredness from your eyes. After your gift to Stephen and the marathon of fucking last night, waking up early was the last thing on your mind. Softly groaning you turned deeper into your pillow, “Stephen, its to early to get up yet” taking the covers and pulling them up to try to go back to sleep.

Placing a soft kiss upon your forehead, “Well good morning to you to babe” A big grin cascading across his face as he pulled you in closer wanting to feel your body against his. He could get lost in you for days. 

Having flashes of memories to when you first moved in his mind raced back to the time when you both wouldn’t leave the bedroom for anything other than studies and food. But the feeling of you had never wavered, if anything Stephens been having visions of you at the end of an alter, standing in white becoming his bride.

Whats wrong with you Stephen? Gushing like a lovesick teenager…His hand trailed along the swell of your hips as he stroked your skin gently with his thumb. The thought alone of your belly swelling with his child was enough to make his heart burst to where he couldn’t help but grin. Today is the day Stephen…

Trailing his palm down his fingers laced the elastic your panties pulling them down. Bring them up to his nose he inhaled your scent making his cock twitch. Tossing them to the floor he saw the grin on your face, your eyes showing a glimmer of mischief he knew you were in the right mindset now.

He pulled the comforter over his head placing kisses along your hips and waistline, the scruffiness of Stephens goatee sending ripples of pleasure across your body.

“Mmmm,” you moaned rocking your hips against his face, “so…nice” your voice trailing off in pleasure.

 Nuzzling his nose between your thighs he beckoned your legs apart. His nose grazing against your folds as he nudged your lips apart desperate to taste you once more. 

He inhaled deeply, “oh sweetheart you smell divine and your already so wet for me” he purred into your apex. 

“Im always ready for you babe, you make me so wet Stephen,” you moaned back riding against his face desperately trying to get more friction. 

“Is my little minx feeling needy?” He smirked, his eyes looking up at you. A bolt of sparks fluttered across your tummy as you watched his blue eyes sparkle with desire. 

“Mmm yes, need to feel your tongue on my wet pussy” you moaned lacing your fingers through his hair pulling him closer to your needy heat.  

Mumbling into your heat he growled, “Mmmm then who am I to keep my lady waiting,” pulling the covers back down all you can make out is the bobbing of the covers as he dove into your core, eating you out like a man starved. You tasted like heaven, and he never wanted to leave. The smell of your arousal was strong as his tongue worked in slow steady circles around your nub. Your legs wrapping firmer around his head only encouraged him to take two fingers into your opening. The squelching sound of your sopping heat around his digits made him squirm. He ground his cock against the mattress in a desperate attempt to satisfy his urge. Stephen was by no means a selfish lover so by all the Vishanti he would hold himself off until you came before chasing his own pleasure. 

“Oh fuck,” you groaned taking fistfuls of his silver templed hair grinding into his face, “Stephen…I don’t know how long I’m going to last” you pleaded as your eyes fluttered closed and your head buried against the pillow. 

Taking that as his cue Stephen latched onto your clit sucking it more firmly as he traced his tongue in figure eights around the bundled nerve going faster and faster. Never missing a beat, he speed up with pace of his hand as your body rode out its pleasure.

“OH MY GOD!” You exclaimed as you bucked against his face coming down from your high. Stephen crawled up from below the sheet, his face glistening with evidence of your arousal. 

“That was fantastic Stephen,” you mumbled into his chest. 

“It was certainly the best gift I can physically give you,” Stephen stated. “Now get dressed, we have gifts to unwrap.

Like a giddy child you rolled out of bed pulling on Stephens Columbia University hoodie and sweatpants. Stephen just opted for his pajama bottoms as he gestured you towards the tree, the velvet love seat couch looking so inviting. Sliding on your slippers you walked over taking a seat next to your boyfriend. Cloakie floated over and attached itself to your shoulders making you giggle. You were glad Stephen trusted you with his relic it made you feel like this place truly was your home.

“Now Ive got something very important to ask you y/n,” he reached behind him pulling out a small velvet box with a bow on it, “Ive been wanting to give this to you for a long time, but I felt like today would be the perfect day”. Your eyes widened as you felt your heartbeat faster. Lifting himself up Stephen slowly got down on one knee. His gaze looking into yours he opened the box that contained the most beautiful emerald ring you’ve ever seen. The color a token to his old relic of the time-stone was a nice touch from Wong. I must thank him later for that…

With a gentle tone he asked, “Y/n, will you do me the greatest honor and become my wife?” 

The pause felt like an eternity as you felt your mouth hang open, tears flooded your eyes as you jumped up in excitement.

“Yes Stephen of course I’ll be your wife!” You cried as he took the ring, slipping it onto your heart-line finger. Taking your head in his hands he pulled you in for a kiss as excitement and relief flooded through him. You are going to be his wife…. Pulling away Stephen took your hand kissed your palm.

“I love you Stephen Strange”

“I love you y/n, Merry Christmas”

Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! It inspires me to keep writing.If you want to be tagged in future stories comment below.

A special thanks to the followers who request to read my work.

Back to Main Masterlist

@bakerstreethound @sassenach-on-the-rocks @sherlux @budugu @cemak @blxckdragonfly @seanbeansimp59 @geeky-politics-46 @withalittlehoney @icytrickster17 @kentucky-criedfricken @hunterofshadows04 @baharnoth @katehawke @thealleydog @stewardofningishzida @lady-harvey @withalittlehoney @moonlover-tobefree @dino-fart @deepbatched @purplefeathersandblackleather @asherloki

[leossmoonn]

Mini Murdock

masterlist

pairing - matt murdock x fem!reader

type - fluff

note / requests - requested by @arkofblake “matt x f!reader where he finds out youre pregnant w baby #? and it's just pure fluff and domestic murdock fam content🥰🥰” I love matt sm and you’re causing my obsession to become an actual issue. but it’s ok lol

summary - matt and you find out you’re pregnant

warnings / includes - mild language, allusion to abortion, vomit and food mention, little suggestive if you squint

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Matt hums.

You pry your eyes open, setting them on your boyfriend, who was smiling widely. His hand was cupping your cheek, gently rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Good morning,” you mumble. You turn around onto your back to stretch.

“How did you sleep?” He asks. “Great. Although, there was this weird thing snoring right in my ear,” you reply.

He chuckles, “I snore?”

“Like an ogre,” you confirm. “Well, you drool,” he says.

“Not like you haven’t had my spit on you at some point,” you remark.

His face turns pink and he shys away. You giggle, turning back to him and gazing into his hazel eyes. You reached your hand up to his cheek, your nails gently running across his stubble. You couldn’t help but admire him. The sunlight was shining on half of his face, making him look like an angel.

“Staring is rude, you know,” he says. “Not when there’s a handsome man next to me,” you state.

Matt’s turns fire truck red and he coughs awkwardly. Even though you two had been together for a little over three years, he always got flustered from your compliments.

“What time is it?” You ask, closing your eyes again and snuggling into the pillows.

Matt reaches his hand over to his clock, feeling over the braille. “9:04.”

“So early,” you groan. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, we need to get up,” Matt nudges you. “Why? It’s Sunday and we both don’t work today,” you pout.

“I was thinking we could go out to breakfast.”

You open your eyes and smile at him. “I could just make us breakfast.”

“You deserve to rest. You don’t always have to be cooking.” He put his hand on your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly.

“But which is better, diner food or my food?”

He chuckles, “Your food.”

“Exactly,” you click your tongue. You lean over and press a chaste kiss to his lips. Matt’s arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling flush against him. You hum into the kiss, putting your hand on his bare chest and pushing away. “I’ll make us breakfast, okay?” You roll out of bed. As soon as your feet hit the floor, you begin to feel nauseous.

Matt senses your uneasiness and can hear your stomach churn uncomfortably. “Y/n?” Matt panics and sits up. “Are you okay?”

You run to the bathroom without saying anything. You collapse near the toilet, flipping the lid up and vomiting all of last night’s dinner.

Matt rushes over to you with water, rubbing your back soothingly. You clutch the toilet rim, groaning as you sit back on your heels. Matt wipes the leftover vomit from the corner of your lips with toilet paper, helping you drink some water.

“Sorry, you had to hear and smell that,” you grimace as you flush the toilet.

“Don’t apologize, you had no control over it. Do you feel sick?” He asks.

“No. I mean, I feel a little dizzy, but I just puked up everything I’ve eaten,” you sigh.

Matt puts his hand on your forehead, furrowing his brows. “You feel fine.” He then puts his hand on your heart. “Heart beat is regular.” He moves his hand down to his stomach. He leans in, listening intently. “There’s… something in your stomach.”

“Maybe it’s just indigestion or something,” you shrug.

“What if it’s a tumor? Or appendicitis?” Matt begins to worry.

“I highly doubt I have any of those. It’s probably just something I ate last night. I think that chicken was a little old,” you shrug.

“What if you are sick, though?” He frowns. “I’m not. Trust me, I would know.” You try to assure him.

“Can we just go get a check up, please?” He begs. “Matt,” you sigh. “We don’t need the unnecessary bills.”

“We can afford it. This is just the first time you’ve ever thrown up randomly, and I don’t want you to die.”

You can’t help but smile at your boyfriend’s worries. He was so cute when he was worked up over nothing. But to him, this wasn’t nothing. You knew that if you didn’t go to the doctors, he would try and examine you himself. You’d rather have a trained medical professional poking and prodding you than Matt.

You chuckle and put your hand on his shoulder. “Alright. I’ll get checked out.”

“Great. Maybe Claire can get us a discount,” Matt grins.

————

“Still feel okay?” Claire asks. “Yep. Thanks for doing this,” you smile.

“No problem. You’re my favorite patient. You don’t have any superpowers and you’ve only come in twice, counting this time,” Claire grins.

“Well, I’m glad. My visits would’ve only stuck to one if this guy wasn’t freaking out,” you nudge Matt.

“Hey, at least you got a guy who cares,” Claire says.

You smile, “True. I’m lucky.”

Matt smiles at you, leaning over and kissing your temple. “When will the results be back?”

“Because I know you’ll worry yourself to death, I’m making them push the labs. So hopefully in the next couple hours,” Claire answers.

“Great. Thank you,” Matt nods. “No problem. Also, Y/n, is there any chance you might be pregnant?” Claire asks.

You and Matt look at each other and begin to laugh.

“That is so funny, Claire,” you giggle. “Morning sickness is a thing, you know. That could be why you threw up randomly,” Claire hums.

“Yeah, but we use condoms, and trust me, we would know if it broke,” you explain.

“Alright, just making sure.” Claire types your answer into her patient notes. “You two are good to go. I’ll call you when the results come in.”

“Thanks, Claire. You’re a big help,” Matt smiles. “Don’t mention it,” Claire smiles back, walking out of the room.

“See? There’s nothing to worry about.” You grab Matt’s hand, bringing it up to your lips and kissing his knuckles.

“What if you are pregnant?” Matt wonders. You snort, “Yeah, right.”

“Are you late?” He asks. “No,” you shake your head. “And even if I was, how would I know? I’ve always been irregular.”

“I guess,” he nods. “Let’s just keep this out of our minds until the results come back, alright?” You suggest.

He nods once again, giving you a small smile. You walk out of the emergency clinic, driving back to your apartment. You made yourselves lunch while Matt read over the documents of his new case. A few hours later, Claire called your cell.

“Time for the results!” You exclaim as you answer the phone. “Hey, Claire. So, am I dying?”

Claire laughs, “No. But, um, I do have some news for you. Put me on speakerphone if you haven’t already.”

“Alright. You are on speaker phone,” you say. “Is Matt next to you?” Claire asks.

You walk over to the kitchen table where Matt is, sitting down. “Now he is.”

“Alright. Well, Y/n’s test results looked great. She’s not dying at all. But, there is something that came back positive.”

Matt’s leg bounces up and down anxiously. “What is it?”

“She’s pregnant.”

You drop your phone on the table. “What?”

“I know you two said that you use a condom all the time, but they can break and you may not realize it. Plus, maybe there was one time where you two didn’t.”

You look at Matt. He’s just as shocked as you are. He takes off his glasses, running his hands over his face.

“Oh, my god,” he groans. “I-I don’t know how this happened. I —”

“Wait, Matt?” You look at him as his eyes light up in realization.

“Remember when we went to see the play?” He asks.

“Yeah, what about it?” You nod. “Remember what we did in the parking lot after the show?” He raises his brows.

“Oh, shit,” you smack your forehead. “Let me guess, you two did not use protection?” Claire chimes in.

“Yeah,” you groan. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” Claire hangs up.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as your mind races with what if’s.

“Y/n?” Matt’s voice is quiet and hesitant.

“Yeah?” You lift your head and look at him.

“What are you… What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. You fidget with the necklace Matt bought you. You glanced at his face, reading the expression. “Do you...?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But… I know it’s ultimately your decision.”

You smile, moving your hand to his and intertwining fingers. “Thanks, Matt.”

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”

You shift in your seat, putting your free hand on your belly. “I just can’t believe it.”

Matt chuckles, “I know.”

“And I don’t know if I want to keep it,” you admit.

You watch as Matt’s Adams apple bobs slowly. You can tell he doesn’t like you that said that. But it was the truth. You couldn’t lie to him, not at a time like this.

“I want children,” you begin to say slowly. “With you.” You squeeze his hand assuringly. “I’m just not sure I’m ready.”

He nods, staying silent for a few moments. “I understand. I’m not sure if I’m ready, either, honestly.”

You go quiet for a moment, trying to think before you talk. You weren’t ready for a baby. Matt wasn’t ready for a baby.

Matt wasn’t going to stop being Daredevil, and you weren’t going to slow down on building and beginning to manage your own restaurant. Although, you two had been talking about marriage the other day and a little bit about kids. Maybe this was a sign from the universe.

“When will we ever be?” You ask.

Matt looks at you, raising his right brow and cocking his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“You won’t being Daredevil and I have no plans to stop my career. Maybe we should have this baby.”

“I would love that,” Matt grins. “But what if it doesn’t work?”

You begin to think about life with a child for you and Matt. Even though you were a nervous wreck, the idea excited you. A little mini you and mini Matt running around, causing trouble like their father. Foggy and Karen being godparents. Family game nights and dressing up like Daredevil on Halloween. The kid going on their first date and Matt spying on them, the kid’s graduation and wedding. How amazing it’ll be to see your pride and joy walk down the aisle. And eventually being grandparents.

You began to fall in love with the idea of being a mother.

“The only way that will happen is if we let it. I don’t want to make any rash decisions, but right now, I’m kind of thinking of keeping it.”

“Me, too,” Matt nods. You can tell in his eyes that he’s already begun to grow attached to the baby.

“Again, let’s not decide definitively yet. Let’s talk about it more over the next few days. I’ll schedule an appointment with Doctor Foster and we can learn more about what life for us will be like the next ten months and on.” You say, making a clear plan in your head for the next few days.

“Sounds good.” Matt’s face lights up with a bright smile.

“What?” You can’t help but smile at him.

“I just… I can’t believe we might be having a baby. A mini Murdock,” he gushes.

“It’ll be a little devil baby,” you giggle.

“We should get a custom-made t-shirt for it saying that!”

“Definitely.”

Matt drops to his knees and puts his hand on your stomach. You laugh as he kisses your belly, putting his ear on it.

“Hi, baby. This is your dad. If we keep you, I’ll be so excited to meet you. You’re gonna be beautiful. Just like your mom.” Matt looks up at you, grinning from ear to ear.

You run your fingers through his hair, a small smile playing on your lips. Maybe you would decide to keep the baby.

————

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[fe-fictions]

If you are accepting new ideas for fanfics; Love marks counter attack against Yuri! I think Byleth deserves her revenge xD

(Fam you know it ;0)

The wolf that occupied the space in bed beside you was up rather early, for a change. Though you suspected the reason was quite evident; given you mdae sure to exact your revenge thoroughly, last night.

You heard a soft gasp by the looking glass when he rose from bed, followed by an amused hum. Though the amusement slowly turned toi mild agitation when he realized the problem you created was far more serious than first thought.

“I know you’re awake,” You heard the slightest strain in his smooth tone of voice. “Would you care to explain this?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” You feigned ignorance, stretching sweetly in bed. You didn’t bother with modesty, seeing as your husband was equally bare in the morning light. Where you were calm and collected, though, you found a twitch of annoyance in Yuri’s girmace.

“We both know you plotted this.” He remained unconvinced, “There are far too many marks for this to be anything other than premeditated, and you know it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t see what the issue is, darling. You’ll have to come a bit closer.” Yuri complied with a huff, crossing the floor back to you and leaning over you, eyes narrowed and unimpressed.

“I believe you were well aware what you were doing when you put these marks all over my neck. There isn’t a collar tall enough to cover them all…and the amount of makeup we’ll run through just to handle it, yet again, will be immense.”

“So it’s a problem when you run out of cover-up, but not me?” You quirked an eyebrow, running your fingers delicately over the bruised skin. You had to admit, the stark contrast between the marks and his lovely, pale tone was quite handsome. More importantly, it was very noticeable.

Yuri caught your hand, kissing your fingertips.

“I never said it wasn’t a problem when you ran out; I thought it was quite humorous to see you all worked up over such a trivial thing.”

“And it’s not trivial for you?”

“Of course it is. But it won’t stop me from being annoyed by it, you know.” He said, “I can’t blame you for getting revenge, in fact I’m rather impressed by it…but I cannot respect someone who would lie about committing their crime.”

“I’m not lying…I’m simply…denying that it was malicious.” You grinned at him, pulling him back onto the bed with you. Yuri fell into your arms, burying his face in your neck with a tired groan.

“We mustn’t dawdle any longer, Byleth…it’ll take some extra work to get rid of all this, not to mention we’ve already got a busy day ahead of us.”

“You’re starting to sound more like Seteth every day.” You giggled, running your hands through his hair. “I think we’ll survive just fine if we’re a few minutes late; it’ll be worth it to cover up your little problem. Perhaps it’ll make you think twice before being so brutish in the future.”

“I’ve never been brutish.” He grumbled, “That’s an accusation far more befitting of Balthus than I.”

“Yet Balthus would never mark his wife up and down with such scandalous love bites.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “You don’t know him very well, then. Besides, if you’re going to levy such an accusation at me, you ought to take a look at yourself once in a while- you did far worse to me than I ever could have done to you.”

“A truth I take great pride in.” You mused, enjoying the sulking man cuddled up in your embrace. “I promise I won’t do it again…provided you do the same.”

“Ugh…fair is fair, I suppose.” He mumbled into your hair, “But you can’t keep me from teasing you, you know.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Perhaps just not so aggressively, in the future.”

“Very well,” He lifted his head, smiling at you. “Now enough lying about. Come help me fix this problem you made.”

“I told you, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Enough of you.”