#so i gotta just lay it all out in hopes it eventually sticks

[celestiallystella]

Mer Legend/Link x gn!reader

back on my merman legend propaganda

progression of legend x reader, but with a strong focus on mer legend instead of hylian legend! won't have anything to do w/the chain, so he will simply be called link (though even then its used very little lol), and reader is a hylian native to legends hyrule :)

its prtty long, a lot of my rambles about him, but yk

hope you enjoy!

the first time you two meet he's in his mer form

youre in absolute DISBELIEF

youve been pretty sheltered most of your life, so you havent gone out and seen/experienced much, and now that you live by yourself you don't put any effort into learning about what everyone in the larger parts of hyrule think/know

you definitely dont think merfolk are real

AND YET heres this blonde haired mer, blinking up at you from the water

he looks just as shocked as you do

theres a lot of attempted gaslighting on his part

he isn't real, youre totally making him up, mer people?? nahhhh never

you, of course, don't believe him

he must realize he can swim away, because he does just that, leaving you hanging

it becomes a common thing, though, to stumble across this really odd mer

thankfully, over a lot of time, he starts to stick around a bit more and you guy get to talk

you learn his name is link, and that he's rather grumpy (though, maybe that's a bad word for it. tense and untrusting, maybe?)

he never answers ANY of your questions about what it's like to be a mer, and he'll often leave right after you ask him any questions

so, you learn not to ask questions!

instead, you talk about yourself, your interests, your family, your friends, just.. everything

the first few times, he doesn't seem to be really listening to anything you say. he's just collecting a lot of stuff off of the riverbed and stowing them away.

(the first time you ask what he's collecting he near growls, gets clearly embarrassed about that and promptly flees. you don't ask again)

either way, at some point he starts listening to you as he gathers materials.

he's not sure when he started to like listening to you talk, but it happened at some point and now he's come to look forward to it a lot

he gaslights himself into thinking its just funny to listen to your complaints when he's done and gone through so much. that it was just nice to be reminded that not everyone in hyrule is going through literal hell

it gets harder to convince himself that's his reasoning when he realizes he doesn't need to go back to the river near your house anymore

he doesn't want to go somewhere he doesn't need to, but eventually he gets super stressed by everything he has to deal with and decides thats a good enough excuse to go listen to some random person's ramblings

at that point, though, it's probably been weeks, so you've also stopped going

why would you go when the mer you liked talking.. uh.. to isn't there?

so, he shows up and is promptly bummed when he realizes you aren't there.

we all love link, i know, but you guys i fear he's a little dumb, so the thought of... taking the mermaid suit off never crosses his mind.

like he could take it off and just go knock on your door like a normal hylian would, but he could also depressingly lay on the riverbed like his lover has gone off to war and hasn't responded to any of his letters

anyway.

he repeats this a couple of times before deciding you've gotta come down eventually, right? and even he'll admit it at this point; he's starting to miss you

so everytime he comes, he'll bring an itty bitty shell of some sort and set it on the shoreline.

you think he's a mer, and he doesn't plan on telling you he isnt, so he might as well play into that

and hes right, eventually you do go down to the river and see the little pile of shells he's left you, like he's a bird waiting for his owner

you're definitely a bit surprised, but you collect the shells.

you go down early the next day with the shells in hand, a knife, and some string

as you wait to see if he'll turn up, you carve little holes into the shells and pull string through them

they're a bit too big for a necklace, unfortunately, but you can still make it into a decoration of some sort no issue.

he does show up eventually, and he gives you a smile when he sees you, which is probably one of the first youve seen from him. its small, but its meaningful

so anyway, you thank him for the shells, he gets a bit embarrassed and defensive, so you quickly move on

you start up the old routine of rambling on about different things

at first you had set your work aside to chatter, but unlike before when he would swim around while you talked and he gave idle, bland comments, now he sits with his arms crossed on the bank, head sitting on them and staring at you unnervingly

so, you pick the shells back up and keep working while he watches you

this guy does not realize he's acting weird in your eyes, so he remains where he is, tail and most of his upper body floating in the water, his chin and arms on the river bank

that becomes the new routine! eventually though, you do run out of shells to use and have to face his stare

for a minute the first time you stutter and choke on your words - you live in relative solitude, and, as aforementioned, you were relatively sheltered, so you really arent used to people paying such close attention to you and your words

you get by it though!

he does catch on at that point, and makes it a point to look away or start scratching random designs into the dirt under his hand whenever you end up stuttering again, which helps to get you more relaxed

he isn't really sure at what point during this he starts offering more about himself to you, but he does

his age, the fact that he's done a lot, how stressed he is (though, never the details) and other miscellaneous things, like his enjoyment of traveling and magic

youre thrilled to learn what you can about link

and after you find out about his tendency to hoard things, you offer the shells he gave you that you strung up back

he declines, and says that they were meant for you anyway, so you might as well keep them

i think thats when he realizes he must have developed some romantic feelings for you at some point, and just hadnt picked up on them

it definitely scares him at first

the last time he'd felt anything towards someone that he was confident he could label as being romantic, it was marin, and.. well..

so, yeah, it scares him off for a little bit.

you learned your lesson last time he disappeared, and still go down to the river pretty frequently.

anything that's not a house chore and can be done wherever starts to get done by the river, and that's just how it is now

he does come back eventually

he realizes that he knows damn well he isn't dreaming (though sometimes he isn't sure, but ever since all of that happened, hes never been too sure about anything)

he also decides that if this, if you, are a dream, maybe its a sign from Hylia herself to just kinda stop falling for people

so anyway, when he comes back he brings one of his necklaces with him. hes not sure if youll like it, or if youll wear it, but its really simple

just a black cord, and a small charm on it thats enchanted for protection

when he gives it to you, youre thrilled

maybe you wear jewelry a lot, maybe you dont, but either way its something easy to slip on and off and it's rather nondescript

plus its from link so of course you wear it

anyway, it snowballs from there and he starts gifting you random, small items

theyre either enchanted to protect you in some way, or they really are just random items

eventually YOU realize you like him too

for you i wanna say its an easy thing to accept. you like this silly, grumpy mer guy, and thats that

so youd confess first, probably after you confirm its not just a fleeting crush, and link probably glitches or something

anyway, you guys would totally have your first kiss with him awkwardly half out of the water and you on your knees crouched down

you fall in right afterwards, because the angle is so awkward

i think at this point he'd be worried you wouldnt like him once you find out hes not a merman, and he isn't really sure how youd react to him not being one, so i think he'd just show up at your door injured one night and panicking (though he won't say he's panicking)

you, also, panic before doing your best to help him

blah blah blah, he heals up, you guys talk about the fact that he is not, in fact, half fish, and you reassure him you dont only love him because hes half fish

thatd be silly of you

its something i think youd probably have to reinstate throughout your relationship with decreasing frequency over time

he never admits hes a bit insecure, but youve learnt to read his silent signals over time, so you can tell

he does appreciate it a lot, and he appreciates you even more

he's forever glad he decided on the river by your house to gather materials from

though, sometimes he still expects to wake up and find out it was all a dream (he never talks to you about that one, i fear)

idk might take this and do more with it, i kinda just rambled a loott and it all feels like it might be a decent template for a full fanfic but who knows!! not me, thats for sure LMAO

[asumofwords]

Unsought Betrothal - Part 2 - Part One Here

Dark!Aemond x Reader Velaryon x Cregan Stark

Summary: After attempting to humilate your betrothed by laying with Lord Cregan Stark the night before your wedding in the hopes that Aemond would call the wedding off, you find that not only is he determined to still wed you, but also to punish you for your indiscretions. Part One Here

Pairings: Dark!Aemond x Reader, Cregan x Reader, Cregan x Aemond

Warnings: Arranged marriage, threats of violence, acts of violence, forced voyeurism, dubcon, elements of noncon, naked reader, clothed men, fingering, finger fucking, pussy slapping, p in v sex, creampie, pussy eating, cum eating, degradation, praise, voyeur.

Word Count: 13k oops... sorry

Notes: Wow, whelp, its been a while since I have posted some of my writing, and even longer since I wrote the first part of this abomination, but when you get the urge, you just gotta scratch it. Thank you all for all your beautiful messages of kindness as usual, I'm sorry I've been gone a while. I have had a bit of a rough time this year but hopes for a brighter future! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and I hope I can write again very soon for you, hehe ;) Enjoy! <3

The wedding came just as it was planned. Just as it was arranged. Sleep had evaded you, anger and confusion clouding your mind with memories of the night before, ache still throbbing between your thighs. Your little attempt at stopping the engagement had no affect on your betrothed. No affect on the uncle you had grown up with. On the man you would now call husband. 

You had thought that if you could humiliate Aemond in court by flirting with Lord Cregan Stark that he would call off the engagement. That the embarrassment would be too much for the pious prince. That the shame would turn him away from you, making him demand to his mother that they call off the engagement. 

You had thought that maybe if you lost your maidenhead to the Northerner, Aemond would be so disgusted, so filled with rage, that he would call the engagement off, what with him being a dedicated follower of the Seven. 

But you were wrong.

And so you spent an evening limping back into the Keep, escorted by none other than the One-eyed Prince himself and Ser Crispin. The front of your bodice had been ripped by Aemond's hands, but thankfully your hooded cloak covered up your sullied gown, the bottom of it dirtied with mud from where Aemond had bent you over in the alleyway and taken you roughly. With each step you took, you felt his seed slide down your legs, sticking to your inner thighs tackily. 

When you got to your chambers, you used the small basin at your dressing table filled with water to wipe and wash away the blood and seed from your body, pain and a lingering dull ache causing you to jerk with each swipe. 

You didn’t get much sleep that evening, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The urge to run was strong, to just leave out into the night through one of the secret passages and onto your dragons back, but the urge to stay was stronger. You hated him, truly hated him, but the way he had treated you that night, the fire in his eye, it lit something inside of you. It almost made you want him. 

Need him. 

Yet, there was another urge to stay, to make his life hell. To humiliate him at every turn, to ensure that he knew that forcing the engagement to continue would ensure him a life long marriage of discontent and disharmony. 

You were not going to bend to his will. You were not going to bend to his needs, to bow at the husband, and say ‘yes’, and ‘thank you’, and ‘please’. You were going to be who you have always been. 

A Valaryian. 

Your eyes stayed open, watching as the ceiling eventually became light with the sun, indicating the break of dawn, and soon enough your maids were entering your chambers to get you ready to be wed. You were thankful that none of them asked questions about the dirtied ripped gown, or the bloodied rag in the basin, though you knew they were likely already aware. 

The doors to your chambers opened as they pulled your hair back, pinning it atop your head in masses of braids with gold pins, tips glowing red with circular rubies. The colour of your mothers house dripping from you. Footsteps moved through your chambers, your head lifting to find Rhaenyra coming towards you, wearing a dress of black. Her silver hair half up, half down, small braids weaving around the back of her head beautifully. 

A soft smile pulled on her lips as she came towards you, causing you to turn in your seat to fully face her. She looked sad and also lovingly devoted all at once. And whilst you knew it was not her greatest wish to marry you off to her half-brother, you also both knew that it was the only way to prevent bloodshed.

“My sweet.” Rhaenyra cooed, a slender hand coming to brush against your cheek dotingly, the scar on her arm from Alicent peeking beneath the cuff of her dress.

Blood already shed.

“Muña.” You smiled back, pulling her hand down into your lap.

Your mother leant forward and placed a kiss atop your head, “You look so beautiful, my love.”

“Thank you, mother.”

“Are you ready?” Her tone was gentle, as though she didn’t wish to startle you. As though she didn’t want to break the bubble that was the safety of your chambers. 

The last time in your chambers as an unwed woman.

You gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes, and she could see it, “I must be.”

The small smile she had worn slid away, “This is not what I had intended for you. I did not wish to force you as I had been. I wish-“

“-I know.” You squeezed her hand, “I understand. It is my duty as your daughter to be wed to the Hightower’s to prevent bloodshed and war. To ensure your ascension to the throne. Let me perform my duty for you.”

“You know that we love you.” Rhaenyra squeezed your hand back, “Daemon has almost gone mad with rage. He does not wish to see you be wed to him. Luc feels that it is his fault.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from either of them.” You stood, still clutching her hand.

Her violet eyes roamed down your body. 

The dress you wore was similar to the one she had worn for her wedding to Laenor, white with gold and licks of red in the lining. The dress sat below your collarbones and drooped against your shoulders, pearlescent beads sewn onto the short sleeves like dragon scales with a red silk peaking underneath.

“I wish this could be different for you.” She came to your side, placing a white cloak atop your shoulders, the Velaryon House sigil embroidered on the back, readying you to leave your chambers.

You looped your arm in hers, steeling a breath before you gave her a confident smile, “I don’t.”

-

Your heart rattled in your chest as you tried to stop the anxiety that churned nauseatingly in your stomach. Your hand was clenched tightly against Daemons arm, who slowly walked you down the many tables filled with people towards the man who would soon be your husband. 

“Breathe.” Daemon cooed softly in your ear, his hand attempting to soothe you with soft brushes against yours. 

Your eyes had not once left Aemond, who watched you with a dark glare. 

The second son stood before the table, Viserys slumped behind him in his chair, the barest of smiles on his rotted face, half covered by a golden mask as you came towards them all. Your mother and Alicent sat on either sides of the King, followed by your brothers, your uncles, your cousins, and your aunt.

Aemond stood stiffly as he always did, the perfect posture with his shoulders back. He was higher on the stairs so that he looked down his nose at you, which wasn’t different to any other time he did. Each step towards him was nerve-wracking, the Lords and Ladies who had travelled far and wide watching you with keen eyes.

When finally you were standing before him, Daemon let go, coming to stand between you and Aemond momentarily, breaking your eye contact for the first time since you entered the room. Your uncle Daemon’s face was a kind one, and one you had grown to love as a step-father. He did not offer you a reassuring smile like your mother did, nor did he offer a consoling one. Instead, he leant forward to press a kiss to the side of your face before standing straight, towering over the both of you in both height and size before he moved back towards the table, sitting beside your mother. 

And so the ceremony began. 

In the light of the chambers Aemond looked sinister, shadows cast across his sharp face as he continued to look down his nose at you, chin still raised high. The Prince’s hair was styled in the way that it always was; straight and down his back, with two plain pieces pulled away from the sides of his face, tied neatly behind his head. He wore all black, the lining and undershirt the deepest of greens that was almost onyx. A symbol of his mother and her war that she had declared on a night such like this, many years ago. 

The room felt hot, the back of your neck sweating as you stared at each other, all eyes pinned on you as the Septon’s voice boomed throughout the room.

“Father, Mother, Warrior,” The old mans voice was so loud in your ear that you winced,  “Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Hear now their vows.”

You swallowed thickly, momentarily looking down at your hands before back into his sole lilac one, watching as his posture straightened further, surprised that he could even do so.

“I am yours, and you are mine.” Aemond’s voice dipped lower, “Whatever may come.”

Your throat felt dry, but your gut was filled with anticipation. You were frightened, but there was something else simmering beneath it all. A need for the danger he brought, a feeling of protection from him. Not from him and his anger, but from others.

A possessive desire.

The Septon looked at you impatiently to say your vows, and a small wave of quiet whispers spread across the room as you stood silently. The Prince shifted on his feet, muscles in his jaw clenching.

“I am yours,” You breathed softly, hands gripping each other tightly in front of your dress, “And you’re mine. Whatever may come.”

The purple of Aemond’s eye was half hidden by his lid, his gaze having softened at your short vow. You watched as the corner of his sharp lips twitched upwards lightly into a small smirk.

The Septon continued, “Here in the presence of Gods and Men, I proclaim Aemond of House Targaryen and Y/n of House Velaryon to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Man and Wife.

Wed to Aemond Targaryen. 

Your husband.

Now and forever.

An eruption of congratulatory joy spread throughout the room, the noise almost deafening as everyone celebrated what could be your demise. And though the noise around you was distracting, you could not look away from him, even as he shifted closer.

Aemond’s hand lifted and you flinched, the only people having noticed was your family seated behind you. His hand continued despite your shock to cup the side of your face and jaw, and as quickly as it happened, it ended. Aemond’s face grew closer as his eye slid shut, pressing his lips tenderly to yours in a brief moment before he pulled away, hand dropping back down to his side. The hand that had cupped your face grasped your hand for all to see, before he led you around to your seat at the table. 

-

The night of celebrations became a blur, too in shock to really enjoy yourself, but wine still flowing heavily. Most of your evening you spent ignoring your new husband, opting to speak mostly to your mother and brothers, as well as Daemon and his daughters, who threw you pitying smiles, yet words of encouragement. 

Aemond sat by your side, though he made no effort to join your conversations or create ones of his own. He had always been the quiet of his siblings, always sticking to the shadows and tomes of the library, never quite fitting in. 

Helaena leant forward towards you, Otto eyeing her warily whilst Alicent looked as though she was about to chastise her daughter. In your aunts hand was a beetle, all black, though when the light of the candles shone on his shell, it seemed to glow. Greens and blues, and purples and pinks, danced across the beetles wings as it crawled atop her hand. 

Your aunt had always loved insects, and had always been a sweet and kind person. You loved Helaena, and if there was anything that could help you endure living in the Red Keep alone without your family, it would be her. 

“He appears dark,” She breathed watching as it crawled through a gap in her fingers and back towards her palm, “But if you look closely, you’ll find that he’s not.”

You shuffled in your seat, your shoulder pressed to hers as you ducked your head to look closer at the beetle, “He’s quite beautiful.”

Healaena lifted her face towards you, as she smiled at you dreamily, “He is, if you let him.”

Frowning, you looked back to the beetle, “How do I let a beetle be a beetle?”

Helaena did not answer you, instead continuing to twist and turn her hand as the bug crawled around on it. 

Aegon watched from above the rim of his cup, drunk with red rimmed eyes. His hair was oily and wavy, unbrushed atop his round face. You could not help but feel a shiver crawl over you as he smiled.

“Our sweet niece and brother are finally married.” Aegon purred, Helaena barely giving him a second glance as though over the years she had attuned herself into pretending that he did not exist.

“A joyous occasion, uncle.” You smiled falsely back, picking up your own goblet of wine, ready to go back to talking with Helaena. Or the beetle.

Anything to escape Aegon.

“Do you know what happens tonight? After the celebrations of course.” Your uncles voice creeped along the surface of the table like a snake, so that only you and his siblings could hear. 

You swallowed thickly. 

Of course you did. 

You had done it last night.

Bar a bed. Or walls.

In fact, it wasn’t even in the Keep, and instead in a dirty alley in Flea Bottom, hidden amongst the shadows.

“I’m aware.” Your voice was clipped, which seemed to goad Aegon.

“And how does our sweet little niece know of such things?”

You swallowed thickly, head turning to look at Aemond, whose eye was trained on his brother.

“My Septa.” You tuned back to face him, “And your whoring.”

Aegon chuckled, filling up his goblet with wine once more, “I suppose then you know what to expect.”

“Yes.”

“Should you ever be in want of a demonstration-"

“-Leave her be.” Came Aemond’s voice, almost a growl. His hand was clutched tightly around his own goblet as he challenged his older brother to say something more. 

Aegon laughed loudly, eyes on his brothers clenched hand before looking up to watch him, “I only jest, brother! It is a night of celebrations!” He thrust his goblet towards the One-Eyed Prince, “It’s not everyday that my little brother is married off to such a beautiful princess. The daughter of the Realm’s Delight, no less. Do you think-“

Helaena shifted, turning her body towards you, “It isn’t so bad.” She spoke emotionlessly into your ear to distract you from Aegon, “It only hurts the first few times.” Your aunt paused in thought, lavender eyes still on the beetle as it moved, before looking at you, “Or when he’s angry. Or drunk.” She added as an afterthought, “But mostly when he’s drunk.”

Sorrow coursed through you for your aunt, your gaze immediately staring into Aegon’s angrily. How could he do this to her? How could he treat her like one of his whores? If not because she is his wife, but because she is his sister. Aegon seemed to sink into his chair after Helaena’s comment, soft anger simmering off of him in small waves.

But Aegon has never truly known when to stop.

“I am sure my brother here will barely draw blood.” 

“I am sure your interest in your brothers cock speaks loudly.”

Elbows sloppily placed on the table he leant towards you, “I tried to take him once you know, to a whorehouse.” His voice became more hushed, “He hated it. Made me think that maybe our dear Aemond was perhaps like your father, Laenor.”

Blinding rage shot through you, “Don’t speak about my father.” You hissed, “He was more man than you shall ever be.”

A cruel smirk pulled at Aegon’s lips, “I am sure he has had more men than I ever shall.”

Your hand shot forward to grasp your goblet, ready to hurl it across the table at him, peace be damned, but Aemond was quicker and snatched your wrist before the tips of your fingers could even reach the cup. 

A quiet fell over your table as all watched the interaction, your wrist in Aemond’s hand, Aegon smirking cruelly at you, and your face hot with anger.

“I pity you.” You quietly seethed, “Always so desperate to get a reaction out of the people around you, because if you didn’t you would simply cease to exist. Though you are the first son of Viserys, a peasant bastard from Flea Bottom would garner more respect.” 

Aegon’s gassed darkened, his mouth readying to fire back at you.

“Aemond.” Alicent called to her son, a questioning and yet chastising tone in her voice. 

Aemond looked at his mother, and then back to you, checking to see if you were going to continue on with your thought. But you had grown tired of the grip he had on you, his large hand squeezing your bones painfully as they shifted beneath the skin. 

“Don’t touch me.” You sneered at him, snatching your hand away as you stood, chair scraping loudly against the flagstones.

The throne room quietened, all stilling to watch as you stood at the table, seething down at your husband. The rest of your family all watched warily, except for the Rogue Prince who smirked broadly at you. Your chest heaved with anger as you looked down at Aemond, who stared up at you with similar rage. 

King Viserys sensing the tension smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, “Our young lovers wish to dance!” A distraction on his end, and a clever one at that. 

The room erupted into cheers and clapping, and the musicians in the corner began playing music loudly for all. Lords and Ladies stood from their seats and moved into the centre of the room to dance together.

Glaring down at your husband, your hands clenched into fists, waiting for him. Aemond slowly stood, towering over you, a large hand stretched out towards you, palm up. 

“Wife.”

“Husband.” You growled, taking his hand roughly, digging your nails into his skin as you led him down the stairs towards the people.

The court parted to the sides like a wave, creating a path for you straight to the centre as you lead Aemond down to it, almost like a dog. Each man and woman watched with excitement, either for the celebrations or the rising tension between the two of you. You’d be a fool to think that the court wouldn’t love a quarrel to arise so that they may whisper about it in corridors later to come. 

It could be a way to press the wound so to speak with Aemond later.

You stopped in the centre, finally letting go of your husband as you spun to face him. 

He stood as he always did, stiff, emotionless with a hint of arrogance, watching you with a cool glare. The court waited for you to begin, as the music continued to play, but even then you couldn’t push yourself to touch him. To feel his hands on you once more, alighting a fire within you that you did not know was possible, the embers still burning from the night before.

Would they be able to tell?

That he had already deflowered you in Flea Bottom?

In a dirty alley like one of Aegon’s whores?

In a way, you hoped they would. Let it bring him dishonour. Let it bring him humiliation from the court that his wife would take him in such a filthy, commoner way. You wished for his disdain, you wished for his anger, anything but the clear desire which seemed to move through him as he watched you from down his nose. 

“Well?” You snipped, waiting for him to make the first move.

Aemond came forward swiftly, much like he had in the alley, and you had to bite your cheeks to stop the gasp that would have escaped your mouth. 

It came to him so naturally to touch you, to hold you. One large hand immediately grasping yours by your side pulling it up, the other skating up your hip, over your collar bone, slowly down your shoulder, and down, down, down your arm. 

Goosebumps rose on your skin, a shiver running down your back as his other hand connected with yours, and slowly but surely, the dance began. Even with the noise of the room, the music playing, the talking, and laughter, and joy from the guests, you could still hear the small little gasps and breaths you let free as you danced with Aemond. 

It was likely one of the only times you hadn’t bickered after so long in his presence, let alone whilst touching him. The two of you stayed silent, moving this way and that, your gaze occasionally flitting to the table to your mother and Daemon, who watched with kind eyes. 

“Don’t let Aegon goad you.” Aemond finally spoke. 

His hand brushed against your shoulders, and round the back of your neck, a heat beginning to simmer in your gut from his touch. You turned to face him, watching as he observed you closely.

“He won’t stop if you show it bothers you.”

“He always bothers me.” You snipped, but this time with much less anger, “He is like a fly you wish to swat but can never reach."

Aemond’s lip twitched as he looked at you, turning around you slowly, “Mm.” 

“Mm.” You mimicked, turning away from him.

“Behave yourself, wife.” Aemond purred, irritation flitting through you momentarily.

“What? Like how behaved yourself last night?” 

“I could say much the same to you.”

“A shame then.” You sighed, moving to come chest to chest with him, your breath stilling in your lungs as you looked up at him. You would never get used to how tall he had grown over the years, “You bring much dishonour to your mother.”

“As do you. Whoring yourself to a Lord of the North-“

“-King of the North-“

“-In a dirty, whore riddled tavern.”

“A dirty, whore riddled tavern that you knew about.”

Aemond stilled, his head dipping towards you, “Did you think that I wouldn’t know of your movements in Kings Landing? Did you truly believe that I would be so foolish as to think that you would come to me willingly?”

You swallowed thickly.

“No.” He continued, sucking on his teeth, “You forget that I know you. You are much like your brothers. Getting into places where you don’t belong.”

“And what of yours?” You became defensive at the mention of your brothers, remembering how he and his would call you all bastards, “Loudly and brazenly whoring himself to any and all who would dare risk fucking him.”

“My brothers whoring does not concern me.”

“Then I suppose I am not a concern either.” You sniffed, “You needn’t worry, I am sure that he should find his way into our chambers one way or another.”

The hand on your arm tightened to the point of pain, your cheek twitching as you tried to hold in a wince, “I told you, he is not of concern.”

“I know Aegon. I have heard of what he does-“

“-And you know me. Know that he will not-“

“-He will not, what? Sully me? Taint our marital bed? It is already tainted. You made sure of that last night.” You stood closer to him, still as the others danced around you, your gaze peering up into his as your chest heaved, “But what if I want him to? What if I willingly invite him to take me? I’m sure you do not mind sharing after all, he is your brother.”

Aemond’s eye flashed with anger, before his head slowly ducked beside your ear, “If you think I am fool enough to stoop to your provocations then you must forget that we grew up together, side by side. I know your tricks.” The hand on your arm released its strong grip, coming to brush against the back of your neck, “I know that you despise him just as much as I. I know that you used to cry at the Godswood when he called you bastard.”

You bristled, purposely stepping back as you stared at him angrily. You hated that word. You hated what it meant for you and your siblings. You hated that he and his brother and his mother and the court whispered about all of your parentage. You hated that once, when you had been young, despite all of this, you had been friends.

Rage bubbled up inside of you, and before you could stop yourself you leant forward, hand coming to touch the side of Aemond’s face with his one seeing eye, the other covered by his leather patch.

You rubbed your thumb atop his cheek, “Imply that I am bastard once more, and I shall blind you with the purpose that Lucerys lacked.”

Aemond’s chest rose and fell jaggedly, inhaling breaths faster than yours, anger coursing through his veins. His sharp lips twitched as he watched you, “I wouldn’t dare. I know just how Strong you are, Princess.”

Your thumb moved fast, but Aemond was faster, anticipating your movements. His hand caught yours against his cheek, trapping your fingers between his hand so that they may not move further to pluck his remaining eye from its socket like intended. 

“People are watching, ābrazȳrys.” Wife, He purred, though there was a lick of danger behind it. 

A warning.

“Ivestragī zirȳ urnēbagon.” Let them watch, You sneered, “Nyke kessa laesdaor ao hae iā dīnilūks irudy.” I shall blind you as a wedding gift.

Aemond’s silver brow lifted, “Skoros iā sȳz irudy.” What a good gift, His eye turned dangerous, “Eman iā irudy syt ao, mēre nyke gōntan daor jaelagon naejot tepagon.” I have a gift for you, one I did not wish to give.

“Is it your death?” You countered cheerily, not wanting to show him that the way he spoke to you set your hair on end.

“No. I think it will be much better than that. We will both come to enjoy it.” The danger in his eye still flickered like a flame, “I was considering not giving it to you, but since you are behaving so wonderfully, I simply must insist.”

You turned away from him, moving to go back to your seat, “I want nothing from you.”

“And yet, you'll have everything.”

-

As the night grew long, your fears grew larger. And though he had taken you the night before in an alley, his subtle threat of what may come tonight lingered in the back of your mind. Each cup of wine was drained eagerly by your lips, hoping and wishing that you could somehow make yourself sick enough to not have the bedding ceremony. 

But it came all the same, just as the wedding had.

Aegon was the one who initiated the beginning of the end.

A large clap came from in front of you, the short haired Prince leaning towards you on the tables with his hands clasped together, silver and gold rings adorning them. A sinister smile pulled at his lips as he beamed at you and his brother. 

“The night is late!” He proclaimed loudly to the chambers, many Lords and Ladies turning their heads to watch, “I think we have held these two young lovers hostage for far too long!” Aegon smiled out to the room and then stood, lifting his goblet. 

His shirt was untucked, his gait unsteady and he swayed on his feet as he continued, “My brother is too polite to remove himself from festivities such as these! But brother,” He thrusted his cup towards you, “I can see that you wish to take your new wife to bed! The love these two share is a tale for story books, though they are too polite to say a thing.” He chuckled, and laughter followed from the Lords behind you, “Worry not! We will continue the festivities without you!”

Cheers were heard from about the room, though none came from your own table. Aegon sipped his wine greedily, eyes watching you from above the rim of his cup. The Prince took the goblet from his lips and clicked his fingers impatiently beside him, pointing at an uncomfortable Criston Cole who came to his side like a well trained mutt.

“Ser Criston, take these newly weds to my brothers chambers. It seems it is time for the bedding ceremony.”

Ceremony. 

Your blood ran cold. 

Aemond stood abruptly beside you, head on with his brother. 

“No need, Ser Cole.” His smooth voice icy, “I shall escort the Princess there myself.”

Aemond pushed his chair backwards as you continued to stare at Aegon, not quite ready to be alone with the Prince. 

Your husband.

You blinked, turning your head towards your family, who all gave you pained smiles. But it was your duty. And you had given your mother your word. Slowly you stood, letting your eyes scan the table, softly landing on your grandsire before meeting with a pair of large brown eyes. Alicent Hightower watched on with a nervous energy, her hands shifting on her lap as you assumed she picked at the skin around her fingers. The look in her eyes almost held empathy. 

Almost. 

You bowed your head to the King and Queen, ignoring Aegon’s shit eating grin. 

“Your Grace.”

Pushing your chair back you ignored the outstretched arm of Aemond and made your way down the stairs, Lords and Ladies watching as you made your slow exit from the room, taking false prideful steps through the court to delay the inevitable, giving all who watched smiles and nods of your head. 

The shifting of armour moved loudly behind you, before soon enough, Ser Criston Cole was overtaking your step to lead you out of the chambers and soon to Aemond’s. The white cape attached to his shoulders billowed behind him as he speedily kept on.

The skin on your elbow burned, a hand gripping it tightly as you were momentarily slowed as Aemond came to your side. You refused to meet his eye, feeling his gaze upon the side of your face as you exited the chambers, the sounds of cheering and laughter loud behind you. The chamber doors shut with a thump, the sound dampened and muffled, footsteps echoing down the darkened corridors of the Red Keep.

“Does Ser Criston not wish to watch you bed me?” You sneered, eyes flickering to the lit lamps on the walls as Aemond led you down a wing of the Keep you had scarcely been down. 

“I have instructed him to prepare my chambers for your arrival.” Aemond replied, his strides long and rigid as he almost hauled you with him. 

“Do not pull me.” You yanked your arm back, halting your steps, “I am not your dog.”

Aemond stilled, looking down his nose at you as he towered above, “Dogs are better behaved.”

The Prince’s head snapped to the side, pain spreading through your palm as you sneered at him. The side of his cheek bloomed an angry red, yet Aemond did not react to your slap, nor did he hit you back, instead, a slow smirk pulled at his lips. 

“I shall allow that, but only because I know you will regret it.”

Rising to your tiptoes you tried to make yourself come to eye level, “I regret nothing.”

“Mm.” He looked at you blankly, “I shall give you a choice.” Anger rose within your chest, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, “Come with me to the Godswood.” Your brows furrowed, “Pray to the Gods for forgivingness for striking your husband, kneel and apologise. Swear obeisance to me-”

“-If you think-“

“-And I shall let you go to your own chambers alone. No need for a bedding ceremony after last night.”

You flushed, swallowing thickly, “I would never lower myself to apologising to a second son. And especially not to a Prince who is owed no inkling of respect.”

Aemond watched you for a beat, eye scanning your face as his held flat, “Then we continue to my chambers.” The hand that pulled you began again, and your feet struggled to keep up with his, bruises no doubt to be on the tender flesh of your arm in the morning. 

Your heart raced in your chest as you felt yourself get closer to his chambers, his strides not once slowing down, though you tried to dig your heels into the flagstones to slow him. 

“You care not to have a woman enthusiastic in your bed?” You tugged fruitlessly at your arm, “You wish to drag me to a night of suffering, like a savage. Like your brother, Aegon.” You sneered, fruitlessly tugging your arm to escape his grip.

“A savage would have had you atop the table before all to see when you first defied me. I gave you a chance to apologise, remember that you scorned it.”

“A chance? What chance was I given? A loveless marriage with a man who is not my equal? A burden I am forced to bear as I am forced to lay beneath him!”

Aemond’s steps halted once more, almost causing you to crash into him, his fingers tightening against your arm as he yanked you against his chest angrily, “You needlessly make this more difficult. I extended an offering to you of peace, and you burnt it.”

“Peace?” You screeched incredulously, “You have done naught but provoke me! Naught but push and prod and goad me into reaction so that you may justify your sick desires.”

“Provoke you? I seem to recall you sneaking into Flea Bottom to try and lay with a Lord to spite me.”

“I was trying to save us from a loveless and cruel union.”

“Us? Or yourself?”

You paused, mouth feeling dry. Anger and fear swirled within your gut viscously as you stared at him. The both of you panting heavily at one another. Aemond shifted, moving away from the wall beside you, revealing two large wooden doors. 

You were there.

And you had not even realised.

“Wife.” Aemond purred sarcastically before pushing open the door, the smell of his room engulfing you. 

It smelt of him, but far more intensely. Of leather and smoke, and spices which he dabbed his skin with, and still, behind all of this, the natural scent of him. The smell that was only his and his alone. A scent that had wrapped around you in that alleyway the night before. 

The fireplace raged wildly, the room filled with dark mahogany furniture. There was a chaise, arm chairs, a table seated for six, a large bed on the other end, a reading desk with piles of books and scrolls, and candles sitting on every surface, lighting the room. 

The second thing you observed as your eyes roamed the space was that you were not alone. 

Your heart skipped in your chest. 

There by the bed, was a man sat in a chair. Arms tied down to it as his feet were tightly bound to the legs. His long dark hair was knotted atop his head as he stared at you in shock, and beside him, Ser Criston Cole.

“Cregan?” You breathed in shock, running towards the Northerner as you dropped to your knees, hand reaching out to cup his face as he only looked at you with sorrow, “Are you hurt?”

“I did warn you,” Aemond growled from behind, “That you would regret it. I had a plan, you see. A moment of mercy to let you apologise at the Godswood, for you to go-“

“-Let him go!”

“-To your chambers untouched and unscathed. I had given you a choice, and this is the one you have chosen.”

You turned your head sharply to face Aemond, “What have you done?”

“This man was caught conspiring against the crown. He planned to take the Princess’ honour and humiliate her betrothed. A Prince.” His lilac eye held Cregan’s icy blue ones, “I have done my duty by capturing this traitor to the realm.”

Fear began to bubble inside of you, eyes looking back to Cregan. The left side of his face was bruised, small cuts littered across his cheek and brow. His soft lips were swollen and split, and dried blood had gathered in one corner.

“He is innocent.” Your knees ached as they dug into the stones below, your upper body turning to face Aemond again, “He knew naught of what I was doing. Punish me. Let him go.”

Aemond hummed and walked towards you, “Brave. Admirable if it wasn’t for nothing. No. I gave you a choice before, and you have made your choice. I gave you the option to apologise, to bend to me as your husband, to go to your chambers alone, but this is what you have chosen. This was your choice.”

“You gave me no choice!” You sneered, moving to stand, shielding Cregan’s body with your own, “All this talk of choices when all you have gave was an unknown ultimatum.”

“A choice nonetheless. Godswood or chambers. And so here we are. The consequences of your actions.” The Prince came closer, shadows cast across his face, “I told you that you would regret it.”

“You’re a savage! A foul beast.”

A smile pulled at Aemond’s lips, “Choose your words carefully, wife. I have no qualm with slitting his throat where he sits should you continue to defy me.”

Cregan pulled against his restraints, angrily sneering at Aemond, who simply hummed once more as he came to stand before you, looking down at you with false pity, “But, it is the night of our union, and the betrayal is still fresh and something I am willing to move past. I shall give you another choice. One that I feel may be far too lenient.”

Tears began to well in your eyes.

This was all your fault.

“The Lord of Winterfell shall sit where he is, and watch as I fuck you in ways that he never shall-“

“-You disgust me!”

“-Or he shall be tried and hung for treason.” Aemond came closer, his chest almost brushing against yours as he stared at you, “The choice is yours.”

You sneered upwards at your uncle, tears gathering in your eyes, “I would rather die than let you touch me again.”

“I recall you seeming to enjoy it, wetting my cock in that filthy alley as you begged for it.” He purred, hand lifting to brush hair from your face as he sighed, “I don’t mind what you choose, I could simply slit his throat myself right now? If you'd prefer it?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek as you turned and held Cregan’s gaze, his brows furrowing as he saw you come to your decision. 

“Y/n, don’t-“ Cregan’s head was jerked back roughly, Ser Coles hand in his hair as he stuck a blade beneath his chin. The edge of the blade nicked the skin lightly, a small bead of blood travelling down his neck. 

He would die.

He would die and it would be all your fault.

“Please, Aemond.” You begged, “Please do not do this. Let him go. Let him go and I swear to you I will obey your commands. Let him free and I am yours.”

The silver haired mans head tilted as he cooed you, “I am sorry, my love. But it is too late to beg for my mercy as I offered it to you before. What kind of man would I be if I excused such treason?”

You stepped forward swiftly, “A strong one. A merciful one. A man who can see the error of my way. That I am repentant.” You tried to cajole him, “I promise you I will be good. I will perform my duty and do what is expected of me.”

“You are sweet when you beg, but it is too late.”

“Uncle, please! I will do anything! Anything you ask of me. I swear to the Seven.”

Aemond smiled at you, “I know you will. And that is why you will do this.” Aemond swallowed, eye roaming down your wedding gown hungrily, defiantly. 

Angrily. 

“Strip.”

“Aemond-“

“-Strip, or he dies.”

Tears rolled down your cheek, your stomach rolling in disgust and fear. 

“Please do not make me do this.” You sobbed, arms limp by your side as you looked down at the flagstones, feeling defeated.

Your husband tutted you, long slender finger brushing the tears that fell from your eyes away, “Do not waste your tears on him, my love. I can be gentle, and soon you will come to love my touch. This, I promise you.”

Pain bloomed in your jaw as you ground your teeth together, wary to not trigger Criston’s excitable hand. Short breaths puffed from your nose as fury and sorrow rose within you like a tide, little by little building in a wave. In your periphery, Aemond stepped back, a pale hand presented in front of you, palm outstretched for you to take.

Slowly, you let your gaze meet his, heated glare ignoring his offering as you refused to move. One last act of defiance. And one Aemond did not take lightly. Pain bloomed in your shoulder as you were roughly yanked forwards, and thrown backwards against the bed. Cregan shouted from behind you, the chair creaking beneath him. 

“I said, strip.” Aemond growled.

Your eyes flicked to Cregan, and then up towards Ser Cole who watched with conflicted eyes.

“Please,” You begged softly again, keeping your eyes on Ser Criston, “Not him too. Not Ser Cole.”

A shifting of armour moved from behind Aemond, and a small ‘Your Grace’ fell from the knights lips. 

Aemond spun, momentarily ignoring you as he turned to the knight standing awkwardly beside Cregan Stark, “You may leave, Ser Cole.” Aemond sniffed, “I am certain our guest will behave accordingly.”

Ser Criston’s eyes flickered to yours and then to the Prince as you tried to plead to him with yours for help. 

To help the daughter of the woman he was once sworn to. 

But no help came. 

The Dornish knight bowed his head and left without another word. 

“Let her go-“

“-Ah.” Aemond turned slowly towards Cregan, slow steps coming forward until he stood towering over the northerner, “Speak again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“Kepus,” You stood from the bed, grasping Aemond’s elbow tightly, hoping, praying that if you asked once more that he could see reason, “Please, let him go. I am yours. I will always be yours.”

Aemond stared at you, his pupil dilated as he stared at you intently.

“Strip.”

You fought the sob that threaten to rise up your throat and slowly lifted your chin. 

You would not show weakness. 

You would be strong. 

With shaking hands, you let your fingers find the strings at the back of your dress, and slowly but surely you pulled the laces, keeping your eyes on your husband who watched with intent. 

The gown sagged against your frame, the soft material falling down your chest slowly as you held it for one last moment, hoping that it was all a test, that he would change his mind and stop this madness. 

But he didn’t. 

Breath held in your chest, you let the gown fall to the floor below you, leaving you in your thin shift before the two men. Cregan looked away, his eyes focusing on the stones of the wall in shame, his hands tucked into tight fists against the arm of the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white.

A shiver ran down your back as the cool of the chambers stiffened your nipples into peaks, brushing against the white of your chemise. Aemond took a slow step towards you and then another, hand lifting to brush under your chin, an attempt to direct your gaze to him. You turned your head defiantly; looking to the wall where Cregan’s gaze laid. 

“Y/n.” Aemond warned softly, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin as he turned your face towards him, “Look at me.” 

Reluctantly you let yourself, and all you saw was the black of his pupil as he devoured you with his darkened gaze, “You’re so beautiful.” He cooed, “My wife.”

You swallowed thickly, his hand slowly skimming down your neck raising goosebumps along your skin as his fingers came to rest against the edge of your chemise. The tips of his nails scraped softly against your skin as it slipped beneath, and with an even slower movement, he tugged the chemise down off of your shoulders, the thin material floating down to the floor below leaving you completely exposed to the two men in his chambers. 

“I will not harm you, though you would deserve it.” Aemond purred, his eye roaming your exposed body, your stomach and core clenching in anticipation, “I plan to make you beg for it.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, but in the moment his long fingers came to brush under your breast, fingers teasing your nipple softly, your mouth clamped shut. You shyly glanced at Cregan, who’s eyes were scrunched tight. Aemond followed your line of sight, sighing.

“If you do not watch,” Aemond fully turned to Cregan, “I will take out your eyes.” 

Even at the One-Eyed Princes threat, Cregan did not lift his gaze from the wall. The Lord of Winterfell willing to risk his sight so that you may keep your dignity.

“Fine.” Aemond grunted, pulling the blade from his belt, “Then I shall take hers.”

Fear shot through you as you stared at Aemond tearfully, watching in your periphery as Cregan’s head turned towards you and yelled. 

“No!”

“Then,” Aemond sneered, “Watch.” 

With eyes filled with shame, Cregan looked up at you. You didn’t know what to do, what could make it better. What could make any of this not what it was, and so you tried to offer him a reassuring nod. A small promise that it was okay to look when all you knew was how very much it wasn’t.

“Good.” The Prince hummed. 

Aemond resumed his touch against you, hand coming to cup your breast fully as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. His touch sent sparks across your chest, shame washing over you in a wave. 

Aemond ducked his head towards your face, beckoning you to kiss him. Would he be gentle as he was when you were married? Would it soften his actions? Or would it only make him worse?

Deciding that you didn’t want to push what little patience he had, your eyes slid shut, breath stuck deep in your chest as you felt the heat of his body come closer, the hand on your breast skating around your ribs to pull you closer to him. 

When his lips pressed against yours it was light, gentle, almost cautious, your hands staying stiff by your sides. But that softness was short lived, and soon Aemond deepened the kiss, his teeth clashing against yours roughly. 

You gasped softly as his other hand wound into your hair, tugging you closer as he nipped your bottom lip roughly. Your hands instinctually came up to his chest, gripping onto his jacket tightly to steady yourself. Anger poured into the kiss, and from behind you could feel the reluctant glare of Cregan. 

Aemond pulled away, your eyes fluttering open to look at him. His lips were swollen, having turned a rosy pink as a blush settled across his cheeks. His chest heaved against yours, the stitching on his coat brushing roughly against your stiffened peaks. 

“Have you ever bed a woman, Stark?” Aemond asked smugly, brushing the back of your neck as you turned you to face the Northerner again, your back to Aemond’s chest.

Even as exposed as you were, Cregan’s eyes did not shift to look at your body, keeping his simmering glare on Aemond.

Clicking his tongue, Aemond continued, “I’m sure you’ve fucked wildlings and mudmen alike, being a man of the North.” An arm wrapped around the front of your chest, breasts squeezed beneath the toned arm of your uncle behind you, “Tell me, are Winterfells brothels full of sheep like the Vale? Or maybe they’re full of pigs since you’re both fond of the mud.”

The chair beneath Cregan creaked, his jaw tensing in anger as Aemond taunted him. His pale eyes narrowed, lips tensed together in a sneer as his nostrils flared, breathing heavily whilst his hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

“No? Hm.” Aemond’s other hand slid across the skin of your back, travelling around to the front of your stomach slowly, brushing his fingertips along your hip bone as he continued, “You see, Stark, mudmen of the North have no place with the blood of Valyria. The Blood of the Dragon would never sully itself by laying with a Northerner. Nor would a Princess.” His hand continued to dip down, fingers brushing into the hair atop your mound. 

Your back arched in instinct, trying to escape his hand, but it only pushed your backside into his clearly hardened member, “Targaryens don’t fuck like animals,” His voice dipped lower, “We bring pleasure to our lovers.”

Aemond’s hand continued down, parting your folds with a finger, seeking out the heat and slick that had gathered at your entrance. Once found, Aemond’s chest vibrated from behind with an appreciative hum, dragging a long slender finger from your entrance, back up to your pearl. You jerked in his hold as he pushed lightly against it, slowly and torturously swirling the digit against your bud, your arousal aiding his movements. 

You watched Cregan curiously, the urge to hide yourself strong. His eyes never once left Aemond as he continued to bring you soft pleasure. The Stark’s chest rose and fell shallowly as he glared at the man behind you, who watched back with impatience. 

“I won’t tell you again.” Aemond purred, fingers dipping down to your entrance as he suddenly shoved one long finger inside of you, causing you to gasp at the small sting, “Watch her, or I blind her.”

Cregan’s eyes shut as he took a shaky breath, Aemond’s finger crooking inside of you, pressing against your front wall roughly. A whine fell from your lips causing the icy blue eyes to catch yours finally. Cregan swallowed thickly as you stared at one another, your hands gripping the sleeve of Aemond’s arm across your chest, twisting the material between your fingers as you shifted your hips back, pressing against him as he sped up his fingers movement. 

Cregan’s stare was hard, his eyes apologetic, watching you shift against your husband behind you as he began to fuck his finger inside of you, the sound of your slick filling the room. Your face flushed with embarrassment. 

“She’s quite reactive,” Aemond purred, slipping his finger from within you to rub at your bud again, causing you to jerk in his hold, his arm tightening further around your chest, “Her body knows what it wants, even when she tries to fight it. Do you hear how she needs me?” 

Aemond’s finger moved back to your entrance, but instead of one, he forced in a second, the ache from the night before settling within you again.

“Gods.” You whispered softly, pain and pleasure mixing into a confusing blend. Your head fell back against Aemond’s shoulder as he sped up his hand, fucking his fingers inside of you roughly. All you could do was lean your weight back against him, his arm the only thing that held you upright as his arousal pressed into the small of your back.

A familiar warmth began to build within you quickly, a coil rapidly tightening within your gut as Aemond switched from fucking you with his hand, to rubbing slick circles against your pearl. You scrunched your eyes shut, mouth going slack as your breath hitched. You were so close, so close, to reaching your peak, but each time you would almost get there, Aemond would slow his hand down. 

You whined in his arms, shifting as you just wished it would end, wishing he would let you peak. It was torture. And with each time he did it, the frustration and desperation built, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin.

“What is the matter?” Aemond cooed into your ear, his fingers slowing to almost a halt, “Did you need something?”

You huffed a breath through your nose, eyes scrunching shut as you tried to thrust your hips into his hand, anything to alleviate the pressure that was strung to snap at any moment. You didn’t care anymore, you just needed it to end. Aemond’s fingers stopped, hovering over your pearl.

You didn’t even want to think of what you must have looked like, bare, hair likely a mess, and body aching for release.

All while Cregan Stark watched.

“If you want something,” Aemond’s lips came to the side of your ear, pressing a ghostly kiss to them, “You need only ask.”

You bit on your bottom lip, willing yourself to not give in, to not give him what he wanted, but all you could think about was reaching your peak. Logically, you told yourself it was for Cregan’s sake so that it could all end quickly, but in reality, it was so that the throbbing in your core would cease, and the sweet feeling of relief could wash over you like it had the night before. 

“Come now, you’re not one to hold your tongue. Ask.”

You wet your lips timidly, keeping your eyes shut in shame, not wanting to see Cregan’s face as you begged for the man behind you to touch you again as he watched. 

A sharp sting shot through your centre, your eyes springing open as you gasped, you gaze immediately meeting the cold icy glare of Cregan, who’s fists tightened around the arms of the chair.

“Speak.” Aemond commanded, voice sharper in your ear as he watched Cregan tensing to the chair he was tied to.

Your mouth felt dry, and you licked at your lips once more before you softly whispered, “Please.”

“Please what?”

Cregan’s gaze looked back to yours, his eyes softened.

“Please,” You begged softly, “Touch me.”

You heard Aemond hummed from behind you, his finger slowly pressing into your cunt as he gathered slick from your entrance to drag back up to your bud.

“Like this?” He purred, slowly making circles against you, the coil within tightening again.

All you could do was nod, but that was not the answer that Aemond demanded. His fingers left your pearl as he waited, and you huffed in frustration.

“Touch me. Please, Aemond.” You weakly begged, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment, not wanting to see Cregan’s face. 

His touched resumed once more, but the arm wrapped around your chest shifted, his hand coming to grasp your chin as he lifted your head to look squarely at Cregan, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks.

“All you needed to do was ask, sweet wife.” Aemond purred, the movement speeding up, bringing you closer and closer to your peak, “I want you to wet my hand, and watch him whilst you do it. If you do not,” His voice dipped low, fingers pressing almost painfully against you, “I will know.”

You swallowed dryly and nodded your head in his grasp, feeling your peak begin to barrel towards you. Cregan watched your face, his own a soft pink and ice blue eyes half lidded. 

“Does this feel good? Am I making you nice and wet?” Aemond cooed, hand plucking pleasure from you in ways you didn’t know was possible.

You nodded weakly, “Yes.”

“You can do better than that. Tell him what it feels like.”

Your eyes widened, embarrassment flaring inside of you.

“Tell him or I’ll stop.”

“It-“ You paused, swallowing the last of your pride, “It feels good.”

“What feels good?”

“When you touch me.”

“How so?”

You exhaled shakily, shifting in his arm as his fingers softened their movements, “It feels good when you touch my cunt.”

“Sȳz riña.” Good girl, Aemond praised you, causing arousal to spark inside, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Does it feel good when I fuck you with my hand?”

“Yes, uncle.” You whined weakly.

“Tell Cregan that it feels good when I fuck you with my hand.”

Blinking at the man tied in the chair, you grit your teeth, “It feels good when he fucks me with his hand.”

Cregans nostrils flared as he shifted in his seat, and your head fell back against Aemond once more, “I’m close.” You panted.

You were so close, so, so close to just tipping over the edge, the smell of Aemond behind you suffocating you as heat began to rise through your body. The gaze of the man before you wavered, his eyes momentarily dipping to where Aemond’s hand was rubbing swift and slick circles. That was all it took for you to feel yourself fall undone.

You writhed against Aemond as your peak washed over you, the Northerner watching on as Aemond’s fingers became wet with your release, his gaze darting up to watch your face, jaw slack as he breathed shallowly.

“Shh, shh, shh. Good girl.” Aemond praised you, his hand finally stopping as he smoothed up and down your sides. 

A warm glow settled over your body and your eyes slid shut, head lolling to Aemond’s chest behind you as you breathed deeply, the pulsing of your cunt halting any and all thoughts that you had. 

But as quick as the calm had come, the quicker it left, your world tilting as you were spun and pushed back onto the bed. Your eyes shot open as you watched Aemond step towards you, Cregan observing with slight concern before you were yanked back down the bed towards the Prince by your ankles, legs splayed open. 

On instinct they tried to close, too exposed to the room, but your husband wouldn’t allow it, standing between them as he held them open with his hand, his lone eye commanding you to stay still from above. 

Would it be painful like the night before? Would he bring you pleasure as well? Or would it be something entirely different now that you lay down on a bed, the way that your Septa’s had told you it would happen, and certainly not inside a dirty alley in Flea Bottom?

But what your Septa’s had not informed you of was that your husband, who seemed to be more concerned with punishing you than bringing you any reward, began to kneel before the bed, his back to his prisoner.

“I need to taste how sweet you are, and then I shall fuck you.” 

With a broad swipe of his tongue, Aemond parted your folds from your entrance to your bud, collecting your release on it as he went. His eye closed as he hummed, coming to lap at your folds once more, pleasure sparking up through you. 

You gasped softly, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome. It was more intense than you had thought it could be, but perhaps you were over sensitive from the release you just had. You watched Aemond, his lilac eye opening to look up at you with a smirk.

He pulled away from your centre, lips wet with your slick, “You are as sweet as I thought you would be.”

Aemond stood, towering over you as he began to pull at his belt and breeches, wherein he began untying them, lace after lace ripped from its eyelet until they sagged. His shirt was pulled away, revealing the pale skin of his lower stomach, and the dusting of hair that trailed down from navel to pubis.

The Prince’s length strained against his breeches, the base of it just showing, a purple vein standing out against his starkly pale skin. You hadn’t gotten to see it properly the night before, and the sight of it made your core clench around nothing. 

Before he pulled himself from the confines of his pants, Aemond grabbed you once more and shifted you to lay sideways atop his bed, the plush green sheets soft beneath your skin. Your eyes rose to the ceiling, looking at the soft canopy that lay atop before the screeching of a chair on stone caught your attention.

You snapped your head to the side, watching as Aemond effortlessly dragged Cregan by the chair closer to the bed, only an arms length away. He towered over the man from Winterfell who looked up at him with nothing but contempt.

“You’ll watch me fuck her,” Aemond began smugly, “And know that it could never be you. Know that it will never be you.” Cregan attempted to sit up higher in the seat, chest pulling at the ropes that held him back, “You’ll watch me bring peak after peak from her as she wets my cock and likes it, and you’ll remember that it was me doing it.”

“Aemond.” You tried to distract him, try to take the attention away from Cregan, who watched with burning eyes, “Please.”

The silver haired Prince turned his head towards you and smirked before looking back at Cregan, “You see? She already begs for more.” Aemond walked back towards you, only two short steps from the bed as his eye roamed your naked body, gaze settling into the crux of your thighs, “She only had me last night, and already she begs so nicely.”

With jerky movements, Aemond pulled his length from his breeches, the length and girth large and intimidating. The tip was a rosy pink, and long veins travelled up its length. A bead of arousal had begun to form on top, slowly leaking down the base as he knelt on the bed, pulling you down to meet his hips, and had you not already experienced it, you would have been filled with fear. 

Aemond thrust into you quickly and sharply, pain filling you before a feeling of fullness, his tip pressing at the end of your walls. You hissed softly, hands having raised to grasp his arms, nails biting into his skin beneath his shirts.

Your husband leant down, lips brushing against your cheek as it moved to your ear, “Do you like when I spear you on my cock?” He purred, his breath tickling your neck. 

With clenched teeth you nodded, willing your body to adjust to his size quickly.

“Use your words, you’re not a mute.”

“Yes.” You grit out, turning your head away from him as he loomed above you, arms on either side of your head as he lay between your parted thighs.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Aemond.”

“Close.

You swallowed, “Yes, Husband.”

“Good.” Aemond pulled out of you swiftly before he thrust back in, “Girl.”

You exhaled sharply, the angle so far different from the night before. He felt deeper, more intense, everywhere all at once. 

It was overwhelming. 

You scrunched your eyes shut as Aemond began to rut into you, your hands not once leaving his arms as you clutched onto him, shifting your hips to alleviate the way his tip pressed harshly against your cervix with each thrust. 

His hips clapped against yours brutally, speeding up, the movement shifting you up the bed as you squeaked with each impact, a warmth beginning to pool in your gut once more. The hair at the base of his cock brushed against your pearl roughly as his pelvis slid against yours, the stimulation winding that all too familiar coil again.

A moan broke free from your lips as Aemond shook a hand free, hoisting up one of your legs atop his hip, shifting the angle entirely so that his cock brushed against the small spongey patch within you deliciously, pleasure sending sparks through your limbs. Your eyes were shut so tightly, you could see stars behind them, your bottom lip gnawed between teeth. 

“Open your eyes.” Aemond breathed from above, his pace not once faltering. 

Your head tipped to the side, away from where Cregan sat, eyes still scrunched shut as you whined beneath him. 

“I said,” Aemond grunted, hand roughly coming to grasp your chin as he turned your head back towards Cregan, “Open.”His fingers squeezed painfully against your jaw, bruises likely to show in the morning, your eyes finally opening to find Cregan watching you already.

“Lord Stark knows how to follow orders. He’s not once taken his eyes off you.” Aemond purred, thrusting particularly sharply into you causing you to wince, “Do you think he wishes he were I?”

Your mouth felt dry again, and all you could do was watch as the blush on Cregan’s cheeks depend and his eyes momentarily flashed away form you before returning, remembering Aemond’s threat. 

“I think he does, sweet wife. I think he wishes that he was in your tight, wet, cunt as I am now. Don’t you agree?” 

Your breasts moved with each thrust, the sound of your slick sliding against his length loud as it was before as you huffed beneath your husband.

Aemond’s fingers tightened against your jaw, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.”

Another squeeze.

“I do.” You breathed, your face suddenly feeling flushed. 

The man on top of you pulled out suddenly, hands moving under your sides to flip you over onto your stomach.

“Do not-“ You began angrily.

“-Quiet.” Aemond snapped, grabbing your hips as he pulled you up onto your knees, your hands fisting the sheets as you looked ahead, uncertainty filling your features before you felt the head of Aemond cock slide through your folds, and push straight back inside. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed as he began to fuck into you, “Gods.” The angle made you feel even fuller than before, but shallower too, his length constantly batting against your walls as his hips clapped against your ass.

You struggled to stay upright as he continued, his grip on your hips painful as he pulled you back onto him, the air being punched from your lungs each time, making you gasp out small little high pitched huffs. A hand in your hair wrenched your head back and then to the side, directing your face to meet the Stark’s who’s eyes were not on your own, but instead upon your body.

The heat of his gaze caused you to clamp down on Aemond’s length, the Lord’s roaming eyes watching as the Princes cock buried itself over and over inside of you, before slowly roaming back up your body, catching sight of your breasts below you as they moved, and then finally to your face. 

Seeing that he was caught, Cregan flushed, eyes casting down briefly before looking back up at you. He shifted against the chair, hands still tightly clenched against the arm, chest heaving, his thick muscled thighs clenching against the seat, and to-

Oh.

Cregan shifted again, knowing where your gaze had fallen, his hips trying to shift back against the wooden chair, but there was nothing to hide the hardening length within his dark leathered breeches, which pressed painfully to the front of his pants.

Your core clenched again, and from behind you heard Aemond grunt. 

You should have been upset, you should have been horrified, but all it did was set the heat that was already simmering in your gut ablaze, your nipples stiffening to peaks. Instinctually you arched your back, hoping to better the view, which got another grunt of appreciation from your husband, who’s pace was yet to falter, his stamina owed to years of hard work in the training yard with Ser Criston Cole. 

Cregan’s lips parted as he watched you, the pink of his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and that was all it took for you to come undone. You cried out loudly, keeping your eyes on Cregan as Aemond fucked you through your release, triggering his own. He came with a growl, his hips slowing to a halt as you felt his seed pulse inside of you. 

You collapsed against the bed, eyes half lidded as you watched Cregan shift again against his chair as Aemond slowly pulled out of you with a hiss. Warmth dripped from your folds and down your thighs as you felt the soft press of kiss against your shoulder blades. 

Your uncle manoeuvred you on the bed again, your body pliant in his hands as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for Cregan to see. The man’s pale eyes drifted down to between your thighs, watching hungrily as Aemond’s spend dripped out from within you. 

“Tell me Cregan,” Aemond stood by the bed panting, tucking his length back into his breeches whilst he brushed a loose hair over your shoulder, “Did you enjoy watching me fuck my wife?”

The taunt earnt him a sneer. 

“An honest question deserving of an honest answer. I thought Stark’s were known for the honesty and oaths?” Aemond pressed.

You breathed heavily as you watched Cregan’s gaze fell to you and only you in that moment as his answer was given. 

“Yes.”

There was no denying the edge of arousal that roughened the edge of his answer. 

“Hm.” A beat, “Would you like a taste?”

You brows furrowed as you looked up to your husband, who kept his eye on Cregan, his hand atop your shoulder brushing gently in thought. 

A taste?

Did he mean to-

Your heart leapt into your throat, watching as Aemond took his blade from his side and moved towards the Stark man. 

“Stop!” You yelled, watching as Cregan did not flinch when Aemond approached him. 

“Worry not, I mean no harm. I am feeling generous.” Aemond purred, lifting the blade towards Cregan, “He watched dutifully as I put my seed inside of you.” His lilac eye dropped to Cregan’s hardened member, “And it seems that he has enjoyed it.” The Prince turned to face you, “I only wish to give him a parting gift. Something to remember… to agonise over for years to come.”

With a swift hand, Aemond sliced the ropes that bound Cregan's chest to the back of the chair, the Northerner staying still in his seat. The tall Targaryen bent down and cut the ropes on the mans legs loose, one by one.

“Now,” Aemond stood to his full height again, pointing his blade towards Cregan’s wrists, still tied to the chair, “Know that I have your men in a holding cell, and should you try anything, I shall have them all cut into seven pieces and strung about the gates.” Aemond paused, his gaze hardening, “And then I will stay true to my word.”

Cregan’s chest heaved with anger as he watched the prince, still not speaking a word.

“Do we understand each other?” Aemond questioned him, one silver brow lifted in challenge. 

Cregan’s jaw clenched, a click audible to the chambers, “Yes.” He growled.

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement and released his hands, taking a step back as Cregan stood slowly, rubbing at his raw wrists as he looked at you on the bed. His head turned back towards your husband, uncertain of what he meant. 

Impatiently Aemond thrust his arm towards you, blade still in hand, “Go to her. Taste how sweet she is, and know that you will never taste her again.”

Cregan shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking to you for permission, for denial. 

You didn’t know what to do, or what to say, so instead, you widened your legs in invitation, feeling desire begin to stir in you once more. 

It was wrong. 

But Gods did you need it. 

“Clean her up.” Aemond commanded, and with slow and cautious steps, Cregan walked towards you.

The scent of Aemond was overpowered by that of Cregan’s. He smelt of cedar wood and fur, and the soft smell of musk beneath it all that just felt right for a Northerner. 

It felt as if each stepped dragged on for days. You shifted against the bed nervously, casting your eyes to Aemond, who watched with a desire of his own.

Cregan dropped to his knees, his hands twitching by the side of your hips on the bed, cautious to even touch you, a stark difference to the way Aemond simply took. The dark haired man looked up at you breathlessly as you gave him a nod, shifting your hips towards him again, likings the way his eyes dropped down to your centre and then back up. 

His large calloused hands grasped the soft meat of your hips, his eyes keeping on yours as he leant froward slowly, the heat of his breath fanning across your sensitive folds. Your mouth parted as you panted above him, watching as he wet his lips before finally pressing a chaste kiss to your core. 

A soft moan escaped your mouth, head dropping back momentarily, giving him a strike of confidence before burying his tongue between your folds. You dropped back onto the bed, hands coming to grasp his hair as he licked and suckled at your folds, lapping at both your and Aemond’s release which only served to spark your desire further, that same familiar coil winding rapidly.

You tilted your head to watch him, his eyes still on you as you began to come undone on his tongue. Your name pulled you away from his stare, and you turned your head to face Aemond who watched hungrily from beside, his jaw tensed. 

Already sensitive from such an intense night already, you writhed against Cregan’s mouth with a moan, his ministrations bringing you to your peak swiftly, your slick gushing into his mouth. You kept your eyes on Aemond this time, watching as he breathed deeply, his cock already beginning to swell in his breeches.

You panted and whined as the pleasure became too much, and only then did Cregan remove his face from between your thighs, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The chambers became still as you all breathed deeply, warmth spreading through your limbs as you couldn’t decide who to look at for longest. 

Your husband.

Or the Northerner.

All you could think about was what you had done. 

What had just transpired.

Your husband had trapped a Lord of the North in his chambers and forced him to watch you be fucked by him, and not only that, commanded that he cleaned you after. But what was the most confusing part of all, was that all in the chambers seemed to have liked it.

“Cole.” Aemond’s voice broke the stillness of the room, the door to the chambers opening swiftly. 

Cregan stepped in front of you to shield your body from Ser Cole at the same time Aemond did, his back turning to his knight as he grabbed the sheet of the bed to drape over your exposed body.

The knight entered, flagged by two guards.

Confusion flashed across Cregan’s face as he stiffened, body gearing itself up for a fight.

“Relax, Stark.” Aemond mused, not even bothering to look at the man as he observed the guards, eye landing on Ser Cole again, “Take Cregan and his men to the travel roads. Ensure they have food for travel and water for the ride. They are to leave Kings Landing immediately to return back to Winterfell.” 

Ser Cole nodded, as did the guards who swiftly approached Cregan, grabbing each arm as they began to remove him from Aemond’s chambers. The dark haired man looked back at you in confusion as you clutched the sheet your chest, unsure of what to do.

“Stark.” Aemond called out before the dark haired mans foot could cross the threshold. The Northerner stilled, eyes suspicious, “Expect a raven.”

Without another word, the guards pulled Cregan out of the room, Criston shutting the door behind them. The silence in the chambers was nerve-racking, and you turned to look at your uncle, who was already making his way to fill two goblets of wine. 

Your mouth opened, a myriad of questions ready to pour out your mouth, but as usual, Aemond seemed to be one step ahead.

“You’re my wife.” He began, the sound of wine filling goblets. He turned with them in hand, coming to stand beside the bed as he handed you one. 

You kept one hand with the sheets against your breast, the other shakily grasping the goblet, fatigue weighing your body down. Aemond spun to sit in the very chair that Cregan had been tied to, the ropes still on the floor in a heap.

“Our marriage is one of a prospect of peace, not love.” His words stung you in a way you didn’t realise they could, “Though, I do hope to change that one day. I wish to make you happy,” He paused, taking a sip from his goblet as he thought carefully, “And it would be remiss of me to say that what just happened didn’t spark something within me.”

You frowned, “I do not understand.”

“You looked like a Queen having him kneel before you.”

A beat.

“My Queen."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

General Taglist:

@mvdhvtterxx @iamavailablesstuff @apollonshootafar @honeybunnee @kckt88 @youraverageaemondsimp @themadelinehatter @saltedcaramelpretzel @thearieunhinged @aemondsbabygirl @constantlydelulusional @superclairebear96 @opheliaas-stuff @lokisdarlingpet @casualfansoul @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @dosxxy @astrocytes-axon

@kage-no-sonzai @honeybunnee @music-of-dragons @drakar-i @moteandlight-blog @bash1018 @americanprometheuss @hb8301 @ttkttt @the-jess-life @marihoneywk @iloveallmyboys @alegria1580 @heavenhatesme @msassenach @ahristata @hiraethrhapsody @drakar-i @avidreader73 @thefireblaze @marysucks-blog

[angelsnkisses]

nsfw headcanons - euronymous <3

‼️ NSFW - MDNI ‼️

warnings: smut, dom!euronymous, sub!fem!reader, fingering, nose riding (i'm sorry i couldn't resist), oral (fem receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex.

• we all know that one scene.. he knows what he's doing and he knows exactly how to make you squirm.

• he would sit on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap with a somber expression.

"mm.. you're so pure, i shouldn't be doing this to you. it's criminal. you're just too hard to resist.."

• he'd be gentle enough, rubbing your soft skin and kissing your neck, his makeup smudging across your skin in some places.

• he'd eventually get a little impatient, tugging you with him when he laid back on the bed.

"scoot up, baby.. i want you to sit on my face."

• he gets to the point quickly, which you don't have a problem with. he grips your soft thighs when you hover over his face, tugging you down with a little more force than necessary.

"i said sit, not hover. come on, you're not gonna crush me."

• he can't help himself, he just wants to suffocate under your perfect cunt.

• he'd get right to business, sticking out his tongue and gliding over your lips, purposefully ignoring your throbbing clit. his hands stay tight on your thighs, keeping you still in an iron grip.

• he always moans quietly against you when he does this, muffled and desperate. his nose would graze over your clit now and again, and within a few minutes you'd be moaning and shaking, rutting against his nose while he tongue-fucked you into oblivion.

• when you'd reach your orgasm, he'd hungrily lap up your cum, moaning into you at the taste before lifting you off his face.

"fuck, that was hot. we gotta do that more."

• after he was satisfied with that he would push you back down to his lap, allowing you to unbuckle his pants and free his cock from his boxers.

• you wouldn't hesitate to sink down onto him, hands bracing against his chest as you slowly adjust to his size.

"shit, you're so tight.. good job~"

• it's so hot when he lets down his rigid exterior, beginning to moan and pant while you ride him. he would hold onto your hips like they were his only anchor to the earth, his head tossing back as his mouth falls open.

"oh, fucking hell! fuckfuckfuck, faster, come on baby."

• his legs would shake slightly when he hurriedly pulled you off of him, eyes rolling back and loud groans leaving his lips as he cums all over your stomach.

"god, that was so good.. so fucking good."

• he'd probably just let you clean yourself up, but he wouldn't completely skip out on aftercare. if you wanted to, he would probably sleep with you for the night, arm around your waist while you lay on his chest.

**

A/N: okay.. maybe i got a little carried away with this one, but how could i not? euronymous just does something to me :(. i hope u enjoyed! please feel free to send requests <3. also im def posting sub!danny tonight or tomorrow so stay tuned~

[one-winged-dreams]

Stoner Ass Bitch

ship: adriel cordero x olyn dominguez source: original content cw: they are both SO fucking high word count: 2423

THESE KEEP GETTING FUCKING LONGERRRR. I'm trying to add more than just dialogue like I always fucking do, but now it's one of those 'add pancake mix. too thick add water. too watery add pancake mix.' scenarios. Anyway, this is FINALLY fucking done, christ alive.

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @gymleaderkylar @adoredbyalatus @the-sleeping-city @dorothys-wife

@dear-gambler @goldenworldsabound @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitosoulmate

@faerie-circle-ships @heatobrienswife @tireddovahkiin

Home… God he was glad to be home.

The double shift working well into the night was, admittedly, Olyn’s bad. The laser focus was unyielding, he had become a vessel for his tools as he took on that beast of an engine block replacement. By the time he had come out of The Zone(™) the job was done and he wanted to go home and sleep for 80 hours give or take.

His whole morning had been a slow, intermittent trek through his house, broken up by naps on the floor. By 1pm, he had made it to his couch. Breakfast would be within his grasp… eventually. 

A knock on the door dashed any hopes of pacing himself.

“Babe, let me in, it’s fucking cold!”

Oh.

Sighing deeply, Olyn peeled himself from the surface of the couch, dragging himself in a great sacrifice to the door.

“Mi amor, mi vida, mi cielo. What the hell are you doing here?” he sighed once he had opened it. “I’m TIRED. I’m probably gonna just go back to sleep.”

“You could do that,” Adri hummed as he entered. “Or,” he turned around, holding a little makeup bag up by the corner, dangling it enticingly, “smoke you out?”

_

“Fuuuck, they were NOT kidding about those t-breaks.” Adri smoothed his hair back, as he lay back against the arm of the couch, legs planted in Olyn’s lap. “It’s blowing my goddamn mind here, Oly.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re up in space right now. With Elon Musk’s shitty car,” Olyn replied, his head tilted back to rest against the back of the couch. “Let’s go take a nap.”

“No quitters, we’re finishing this fucking bowl first,” Adri said, lifting his head to glare before lolling his head back again.

“That’s what you said about the last one,” Olyn sighed deeply. “Fine, but I need some ice cream or something, I’ve got a crazy fucking sweet tooth right now.”

Adri lifted himself again, gesturing vaguely but wildly.

“That’s what I’m always fucking saying to you! Those sugar cravings don’t play.”

“Because you are a human trash panda, babe. I have NEVER seen a man do the things you’ve done to a pack of gummy bears,” Olyn looked down at him, unable to keep from cracking a smile. “Pero, you’re not gonna drag my ass to the corner store, are you?”

“Oh my fucking god, why did you have to say that?” Adri groaned, throwing his forearm over his eyes.

"Adri. No. It's cold out there and I'm so comfortable. Please, baby, I am begging you not to make me put on my pants and face the elements," Olyn protested, looking like a man on death row. 

"But they've got that horchata machine at the 7-11. Come on, you want candy too," Adri pouted, giving him a weak shove.

Olyn whined. He DID want candy. He DID want some Takis and a big ass Slurpee. He’d been thinking about it for a good 10 minutes already, he just didn’t want to say something to jeopardize whatever warm gay cuddle puddle they had going on here. 

"I can't believe I'm doing this. Only because you convinced me, alright? We gotta smoke the rest of this and then we'll go get candy. Promise," Olyn groaned, returning the shove. 

“Okay, so don’t be a coward,” Adri said, all but shoving the ~ paraphernalia ~ in Olyn’s face. 

Olyn gave Adri a half-hearted glare, sticking his tongue out and trying not to think of putting his lips on Adri’s instead of the pipe. 

“You owe me,” he said, blowing his smoke down in Adri’s face. “YOU’RE paying.”

Adri scoffed in indignation.

“I smoked you out, come on,” he said, tossing a throw pillow at Olyn.

Olyn managed to catch the pillow, Adri’s aim was surprisingly on point when he was high. Making sure to set the pipe down first, he put the pillow in his lap, remaining vigilant. At the first sight of Adri’s grabby hands reaching for it, he presumed the worst (getting hit with a pillow) and tossed it to the other side of the room.

“Yeah, but you're about to have me put pants on and I hate that. I hate it, baby.”

“You’ve got like 15 pairs of sweats, come on. You know how much I love it when men wear sweatpants,” Adri whined. His turn to pout now.

“Fiiiine. My ass does look great in a pair of sweats,” Olyn conceded, peeling Adri off of himself to stand up. “Be right back.”

Olyn’s trip to the bedroom was a blur. He was tired. And really REALLY high. Goddamn he was so high. He didn’t even remember getting dressed, only coming back into the living room to see Adri half hanging off the couch. Naturally.

“Olyyyyn. Olyyyyy.”

“What?” he groaned. “Adri, what?”

With a soft sigh of affectionate aggravation, he hauled Adri back up onto the couch.

“Olyyyy isn’t a word, babe, c’mon.”

“I’m so fucking toasted. No, not even toasted. I’m crispy. Left me in the air fryer too long.”

“I know, mami, I know,” Olyn sighed, trying to pull Adri into a sitting position. “Now get up. Get up or I’m gonna drag you. Baby I do not want to have to carry your sorry ass to the corner store. Vamos.”

Now that he was in a proper sitting position, Adri let out a loud, guttural groan of indignation. He wanted a drink and some candy so fucking bad, but he was gonna complain about it the whole time.

“Put my Docs back on meee.”

Olyn responded with a deep sigh, staring down at him.

"You. Are. So. Lucky. That I love you."

He kneeled down, beginning the arduous process of getting Adri’s boots on him. He never loosened his laces. Why did he never loosen his laces?

Adri let out a snort, prompting Olyn to lift his head.

"We look like we're out of one of those gay leather fetish magazines right now.”

Olyn just stared at him for a moment before he doubled over laughing, struggling to stand up.

"What? Where the hell did that come from?" He asked, still laughing as he reached down to offer his hand. He sure as shit wasn’t gonna let Adri get away with conking out on his couch now.

"You don't know what bootblacking is? Come on, get it together," Adri said, weakly patting him on the head. He loved patting Olyn on the head, he had that little ahoge that bounced right back up. It probably wasn’t as funny sober, but it sure was entertaining right now.

“I can’t deal with you,” Olyn said as he finally pulled Adri up by his arm and dragged him to the door. “You’re gonna give me the giggles. Goddamn it’s cold, you sure you want to do this?”

"Yes, oh my god, if I don't have a soda in my hand in the next 5 minutes I'm killing someone," Adri replied, pushing past Olyn and beginning to make his way down the steps.

"Jesus," Olyn said, following shortly. "Babe, if you kill someone you can't move in with me. You can't, like, have a criminal history. I won't let you. My sweet, crazy boy." He grabbed Adri’s hand and gave it a squeeze, leaning into him. “I’ll help you dispose of the body.”

“Criminal history? Who says we’d get caught?” Adri shoved his hands in his coat pockets.

"Oh, babe. We'd be the sexiest Bonnie and Clyde," Olyn said, leaning closer. "Two beautiful, smart guys on the run?" He sighed dreamily. "You wanna rob a bank, baby?"

Adri snorted violently, descending into a fit of giggles.

“Oly quit, I can’t with you!”

“No, babe, I’m dead serious.” OIyn grabbed Adri by the shoulders, turning him towards him. “You're sexy and you like to commit crimes. We’d be such a hot criminal couple.”

"Shoplifting snacks from Target doesn't constitute as a crime, Olyn," Adri scoffed, brushing him off and starting to walk again. "Overpriced white people candy is BEGGING to be yoinked."

Olyn gasped a little bit.

"Adri!" He said, smacking him on the hip. "Did you steal something? Have you been stealing things from Target and not telling me?"

Adri doubled over laughing hysterically, holding onto his shoulder.

"Olyn quit, everything is funny right now!"

Olyn made sure to catch him before he fell over. 

“Babe, you are SO high right now. Like, it’s insane how high you are.”

"You're high too, look at you!" Adri said, giving him a little push before deadpanning, looking deathly serious. "Olyn you better not fucking laugh."

"... Or what? You gonna kill me?" Olyn asked before busting up into a fit of giggles. "I'm trying! I'm trying so hard to keep it in, I'm sorry!" He said, turning his face away so Adri wouldn't see him laughing.

"I knew it! You fucking stoner ass bitch," Adri laughed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Olyn laughed even harder, hiding his face in Adri’s neck. He was so high. Being a stoner ass bitch with his beautiful, weird little goth bf. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

"I'm gonna have so much cotton mouth when we get to the 7-11," he said, still hiding his face.

"I already do, hurry the fuck up," Adri wheezed, smacking him weakly but repeatedly on the back as they made it to the 7-11 parking lot.

"Okay, I gotchu, baby, I'm going."

The two of them managed to enter the convenience store with no further incident, taking a moment to breathe and compose themselves.

"Oh, thank god," Olyn said, heading straight for the Slurpee station. "I've never needed a Slurpee more in my life. Adri. Come here." He said, standing by the machines and waiting for Adri to come stand next to him.

"Hold the fuck on, I'm getting my tea," Adri said, coming around with a can of peach tea in his hand. "Baby, you want your Takis?"

“Ooh, I could kill a bag of Takis right now,” Olyn said, putting most of his focus into filling up his Slurpee cup without spilling anything. “Get me the regular fuegos?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glimpse of a bag being lifted into the air from the other aisle, as if asking to confirm these were, indeed, the ones.

“Si,” he replied. Getting the lid on this goddamn cup was rocket surgery at the moment. "I'm gonna go see if they have hot dogs or something. Do you want a hot dog?"

“Get me a couple of crispitos,” Adri replied, sounding deep in contemplation.

“Bet.”

Once Olyn had acquired his hot dog, Slurpee, and Adri’s crispitos, he made his way to the checkout counter. After a moment, Adri came around the corner with his peach tea, Olyn’s Takis, and some peach rings.

“Okay, I’m trying to be responsible,” he said, a deeply thoughtful, almost sage-like expression on his face as he stared down at the snacks.

Olyn had been standing there staring at the clerk, who was not interested in him in the least. Poor guy just wanted to do his job, Olyn was just too high to be paying attention.

"You want me to pay, baby?" He asked, taking his eyes off the clerk finally.

Adri wrinkled his nose and waved a dismissive hand at him

“No pasa nada,” he said, sliding the items across the counter before looking down. “Babe, this lighter has a fucking pikachu on it.”

"Oh my god does it?" Olyn said, looking at the rack of lighters. The Pikachu lighter was so funny for no reason. He had to have it.

"You're gonna have to let me pay, I need that lighter," he said, looking up at Adri with legitimate puppy eyes, 33 year old man that he was.

"You just wanna pay so you've got dibs. We're gonna do joint custody of this lighter, you hear me?" Adri asked him with a gentle elbow to the ribs.

"Oh, I don't know if I want joint custody. This may be the dealbreaker in our relationship," Olyn said, reaching for the lighter and holding it up like it was a baby. "Look at him! He's so cute. I'll give you visitation rights to the lighter, that's about all I'm willing to give you, baby."

Adri stared at him with an intense expression on his face before choking and breaking down laughing for what felt like the 8th time that day. 

And how could Olyn not laugh in turn? He was high as a kite in a 7-11, it was practically a requirement. He turned around and put the lighter on the counter with the rest of the stuff, smiling at the clerk.

"This one too please," he said, handing over his debit card. The clerk looked at him like he wasn't going to make it to the end of this transaction.

Adri only bit his lip in the background, every fiber of his being going into remaining composed and trying not to look like an entire idiot. 

"You good? You're not gonna laugh again are you?" Olyn asked, looking back. He didn't want them to both be giggling messes, but if Adri started, he was gonna lose it. "I'm trying to be responsible!" he told the cashier, like he even cared. He got his debit card back and the cashier gave him a look that spoke volumes. Whatever. Not his problem. 

"Thank you for your services, sir," Olyn said, grabbing the bag and waiting for Adri to pull himself together.

Adri gave the clerk a brief nod before busting out laughing again, having to depend on Olyn to guide him out of the store. Which was one of those ‘blind leading the blind’ scenarios, considering Olyn was also laughing his ass off.

By the time they made it back out into the parking lot, Olyn had managed to compose himself at least partially, holding Adri around the shoulders to keep him upright at the very least.

“Baby,” he said, “you are SO high.”

Adri only wheezed more violently, doubling over again with a frail attempt to swat at Olyn.

“So are you, qué chingados!?”

Both of them continued to make morons of themselves in the parking lot before the hysterics died down into small giggles. 

“We’re so much fun.”

“Truly. Now let’s get home, I call dibs on the tortilla blanket.”

“Your case for custody of the pikachu lighter isn’t looking too hot, babe.”

“Cállateeee! …Pendejo.”

They had to stop walking again.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

How do LW and her teammates celebrate happy new year from Fallout 3?

P.S. Happy New Year! 🎆🎄

Fo3 Companions Celebrating New Years

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Platonic/Romantic ➼ A/N » Happy New Year! I hope you enjoy yourself!!

Charon's only ever celebrated New Year's by kicking drunken attendants out of the Ninth Circle, so it's safe to say that he awaits instructions of a similar volition from you. Did you want him to supervise you at the bar? Make sure you don't overdo it in any way? He'll do whatever you order. Although, he's very reluctant when you hand him the party hat and tell him he has the day off. He's not really sure what to do, so he just sticks by you for the rest of the night. He can't say it was the worst night of his life, but he'd definitely ask you to find a less crowded bar next year. He can only handle screaming and cheers for so long.

Clover hasn't really celebrated before (slavers don't normally care for holidays), so when she sees you preparing your home in Megaton, she quickly gets herself dolled up for the occasion. She wants to look good stepping into the New Year! And she wants to look good for you! She'll pop open a bottle of wine, have you sit down, and take care of you while everyone outside yells and screams. What better way to start the New Year than doing what she's always done best? Relax! She'll take care of you! And if you wanted, she'd gladly put an outfit together for you as well, then you could both look perfect when you leave and join the neighbors outside!

The Brotherhood always holds their own celebration at the Citadel, so Star Paladin Cross takes you over a few days in advance to help set everything up. You'll spend a day or two putting up decorations and counting bottles before the big day. Usually, it's pretty slow, but eventually, the place will be ready, and all the effort you put into the place will pay off. Cross will go and get wasted somewhere off in the corner, so you'll probably spend the holidays with complete strangers. Until Sarah shows up, that is, then she'll talk to you the rest of the night.

Jericho finds all the yelling outside to be annoying. This time of year is the one he hates the most just because of all the commotion. Out of all the pre-war holidays to still be standing, this is the one that was kept? Great. Usually, he prefers to lay in bed and ignore it until sunrise, but with you, he wouldn't mind going out and grabbing a few drinks at Moriarity's Saloon. The two of you sitting off in a corner as you wait for everything to die down. That's when the New Year's really begins with him.

A lot's happened to both you and Butch, so he's excited to be able to switch into the new year with you. Couldn't be any worse than this current one, right? At least the chance of being kicked out of your home is lesser now. He might technically be underaged, but he's snagging you both buckets worth of alcohol, and the two of you are going to party until you pass out. You both deserve it for everything you've had to overcome.

Fawkes prefers to spend his New Year inside. He'll set up a bunch of blankets, pour you a glass of whatever you want, and just relax for the night. You guys can do whatever he genuinely doesn't care. Red Menace? Put it into the terminal. Reading? He just finished organizing the bookshelf. Or even if you just want to talk with him, he has no qualms about sitting on the couch and chatting until midnight. It's comfortable, isolated, and welcoming, especially when you consider how cold it's gotta be outside.

RL-3 will either assume it's Independence Day or someone just opened fire on the town with the amount of homemade fireworks being launched. He'll either be cheering enthusiastically with the rest of the Megaton citizens or taking out his flamer. It's probably best to shut him off for this night. On the off chance, he assumes the worst is happening.

You might lose Dogmeat in the commotion. He loves the crowds of people and the colorful decorations, but the loud noises can make him a bit on edge. Don't worry too much about him, though if he's going to hide anywhere, it'll be with Moira or Gob, and they're both sure to take care of him for the night.

[biostris]

Hope this isn't too dark but can I get some angst with saltbaker who has a s/o who is incredibly sick and on the verge of death?

A/N: YES, god I’m going through these and a lot of them are yall being horny little shits so this is actually fueling my empty brain, and I have nothing but an 8 hour flight and a 4 hour lay over to sit through so this works. This will not be drafted this is just straight fucking RAW, GN pronouns.

:Chef Saltbaker x Reader:

In health and in sickness.

No one had seen it coming, no one even knew what it was. All anyone knew on the Isle was that (Y/n) was deathly sick, Saltbaker was working overtime, and time was running out. The bakery was empty, Saltbaker felt nothing but worry and anger as he ran his thumb under a price. A simply ludicrous price. One that he needed to pay to keep you alive.

“Damn it..” he muttered, a hand running down his glassy face as a scowl made its way onto it. How could this happen, how could this happen to you? Everyone had been showing their support, buying when they can but it would never be enough. He felt like he was failing you. A familiar ding echoed from the front of the shop and he was able to pull himself out of his wallowing to plaster on a smile long enough to appease the masses.

“Welcome, Welcome! What can I get you?” He immediately asked, his smile fading once he realized it was Esther Winchester. The cowgirl had her hat over her chest, looking at him with much sympathy and sorrow. “What happened.” He demanded, voice frantic but not angry.

The lass with a lasso paused. “I know you want to work, to try and prevent the end from coming too soon..” she began. Starting to walk over behind the counter and put a hand on Saltbakers shoulder. “But I think it’s high time you hang up your hat and go home to them.” She squeezed his shoulder and offered a sympathetic glance. Saltbakers Heart dropped, he swallowed thickly as he felt him self go pale. Mouth beginning to dry.

“I..” he choked, holding back a sob. “I can’t.” He admitted as he ran a hand to the back of his neck. Falling back on a wooden stool. “If I quit here, (y/n) won’t have enough money for their meds. And if they don’t have enough money for their meds then I fail them.” He bit back tears. Practically fighting them off with ever inch of willpower he saved for himself.

Esther snorted, her brows furrowing and lips twisting into a scowl. “Ya ain’t!” She shouted. “Yer not a failure, they appreciate every second you spend here. Every penny spent to keep them alive but damnit Baker!” Both of her hands grasped his shoulders and she gently shook them.

“They’re dyin, Baker..” her voice dropped. “There ain’t anything we can do now.” Saltbaker felt rage boil in his system but she had a point. One way or another the medicine would eventually stop, their body would grow tired and stop. He broke down in tears, the searing pain of his heart breaking spreading through his chest.

“What do i do..” he croaked, “you go home to them. You honor your vow.” Esther helped him up. Helping him pack up for the day. “In health and sickness.” She reminded him. Saltbaker paused at the door and fiddled with the ring on his finger for a moment. Tears still falling down his cheeks. He sucked in a big breath before slowly letting it out.

“You’re right,” he opened the door waving by to Esther. “I gotta get home.” And with that he was off. Walking the streets, dreading but also being excited to see them again. As he stepped inside their home he made his way to their room. The steady beeping of a monitor made his heart ache.

“You’re home!” (Y/n) croaked weakly, turning their head ever so slightly to see him. A frail smile on their dried lips. Saltbaker wanted to cry. No matter what anyone said he felt like a failure. He sucked in another breath of courage and quickly went to their side. “Yup, I’m home.” He took their hand in his and kissed it.

“How you feeling cupcake?” He asked as he caressed their cheek. Feeling the sheen of sweat sticking to their skin. “Like shit.” (Y/n) replied with a roll of their eyes. “But happy now that you’re here.” Saltbaker couldn’t help but laugh at their wit. He leaned down and kissed them. Lips in a delicate yet passionate dance as he poured all his love into it, dreading that it would be the last.

“I was thinking.” He began as he gently caressed their cheek bone with his thumb. “That we take that trip to the lake, like you wanted..” he watched as their eyes lit up, “really?” Asked (Y/n). Their subtle head tilt expressing their curiosity in volumes. He nodded and smiled.

“I’ve spent too long cooped up in my bakery. And I almost forgot the vow we made.” He took both their hands to his chest. Kissing their knuckles and arms, wrists and all. “That is be by your side in health, and in sickness.” His smile fell.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you. I just..” he winced, but (Y/n) knew. They always knew. They reached up and stroked his cheek weakly. Dry hands brushing against his smooth skin as they chuckled. “It’s ok. Let’s make the most of it now.”

Not all stories will have a happy ending, some are cut too short. But in their last few days (Y/n) had their husband. A nice view of the lake, and all the sweets they could stomach. And in their finals moments in Saltbakers arms, watching the sun rise on a new day. They knew, just like they always did, that everything would be ok.

[reapersbayif]

“I know, it hurts. I’m so sorry, but we have to get this out.” With Striker please?

“Fuck!” You grit out, elbow slamming down onto the counter as you try and catch yourself before you hit the floor.

Striker is right behind you, an arm clutching you around the waist to keep you upright as he half-drags you to the couch. You’re gently deposited across it, laying flat as your vision fades in and out with the pain that threatens to pull you under.

“Shit, shit, fuck,” Striker curses colorfully as he roots through the cabinets in his home.

At least, you assume this is his home. You might also, however, be breaking and entering. Given the fact that your murder people on the regular, you’re not all that concerned.

“Never again,” Striker practically growls, “Do not ever take a hit meant for me again.”

You laugh breathlessly, the noise trailing off into a whimper of pain. Striker mutters all sorts of foul words under his breath as he carefully rips the material of your undershirt and pulls the blood-soaked material away from the knife still sticking out of your stomach.

“I know it hurts,” He grimaces as you try and lean away from his hands to escape the pain, “But we gotta get this out, Ghostie.”

“Fuck,” You echo your earlier exclamation as his hand gently grips the hilt, “Do it. Just pull it-!”

He does, his hand clasping over your mouth to muffle your scream. Distantly, you hope this actually is his house. If not, the homeowners are going to very confused when they find the giant blood stain on their couch.

He applies pressure, but it does little good. The wound is still gushing, soaking everything around you. Eventually it stems as he wraps the bandage around your torso so tight you feel as if you’ll burst.

“I’d do it again,” You gasp out, just to be cheeky.

Striker rolls his eyes, sweat slick forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder, “We’ll see how you like it when I take a knife for you.”

“Impossible,” You wheeze, hands sticky from drying blood as you try and wipe the red smudges from Striker’s face and only serve to make the situation worse, “No one sneaks up on me.”

He groans, but it’s only because he knows you’re right.

[robinsnest2111]

For the ship ask game, (should probs get the obvious out of the way for you here XD) TommyMick/Marlee, vinikki, nikkimick, terrorcest, Vince/Tommy (I don't know if they have an official ship name sorry), Vince/Mick.

I know you like poly!crue but I was wondering how you feel about these ships individually and hoped you could expand on your opinion (only if you want to, no pressure, otherwise you could just rate these ships with no further context, whatever you feel up to :))

ooooooh, get ready for a loooong answer with loads of explanations <3

this one's very obvious and self explanatory. in my mind, Tommy simply adores his old man. Sure, he plays tricks on him and makes some jokes but it's all out of love <333 Tommy can be a bit much for Mick sometimes (like a playfighting puppy!), but he knows Tommy's the youngest of the group, the most immature and energetic, and tbh I think he kinda thrives on that energy and enthusiasm <3

ohhhhh, the classic showrunner and his barbie doll/pretty face+voice of the whole band. Their sarcasm and cattiness mesh so well, but they can also be at each other's throats in an instant. Big personalities on the both of them. When they're on bad terms it's Bad bad, but when they're on the same page? Unbeatable. I feel Nikki is quite possessive of Vince, and Vince likes that special focus and attention most times <3

here comes the angst!!! Both Nikki and Mick are very strong willed and a bit one track minded when they've got a goal in their sights. A very explosive relationship I feel. Similar to Nikki and Vince, Nikki feels a similar type of possessiveness over his old man, a sense of adoration and worship that does weird things to his heart and mind he doesn't dare explore further. Mick doesn't jive with that possessiveness at all, especially when it smothers his creativity and autonomy in the band. Once again. When they're on bad terms, it's bad. But when things are good? They're really good, a strong team working towards a common goal <3 Factor in the sadness of the recent split and drama (and also the history of abandonment and near death experiences and other stuff) there's so much delicious and painful angst as well!!!

YES the terror twins!!! Literally made for each other. Two hellish imps, destined to cause mischief and mayhem! When they're together, they're like two untamed puppies, loud and rambunctious with a total disregard for each other's or others' safety lol Definitely the ship with the most bruises and lovebites.

I feel like Tommy awakens some maternal instinct in Vince, since he's the youngest lol Vince always fussing over Tommy, but also laying all his love on him. Tommy soaks it all up like a sponge <3 He would probably also pull some stupid stunts just to get Vince's attention. If it gets to out of hand, they'd end up in a big fight and not talk to each other for a while. But it'd all smooth back out eventually. Can't be mad at Tommy for too long lol

THE TINY BITCHES GOTTA STICK TOGETHER <3 The appeal of them both being on the shorter side compared to Nikki and Tommy 🙏 I think their sarcasm and strong personalities would mesh pretty well most times, especially if they're teaming up against the terror twins shenanigans lol They also have their bad moments, both finding the other grating to be around. Prissy barbie doll Vince and quiet brooding Mick... But also... opposites attract. I think Mick is best at seeing past Vince's pretty face and really getting him. And Vince appreciates it <3

If you've made it all the way through my rambles, congratulations!!! :D

---

ship ask

[hiemaldesirae]

Swap AU:

Vox's Goetia does join the Hazbin hotel. He takes what was Husk's canon job, as Husk has a casino to run and his parents think it's a good thing for their son to work for the Princess. (Even if they don't believe in her redemption plan. And he is the spare's spare, so it's not like they have any idea what to do with him. Having his and his children's souls permanently bound to the media overlord might do him some good. (Vox stipulated that into his contract. So he'll eventually have numerous goetia souls bound to him.)

Since Alastor was up to his antics during the overlord meeting and sir Pentious has been on his best behavior (after Charlie asked Vox to talk to Pentious about things, and Vox talked to him about building stuff in the lab outside the hotel he never got the Eggbois taken away) the hotel crew doesn't know how to hurt angels/heavenborn. They know Carmilla killed the Angel--Husk caught her reaction to Him bringing out the head, after all. (He also caught Alastor's reaction to Zestial saying that they'd probably go after the Hotel first--not that he'd tell Vox. But he'd seen how furious and fearful the stag had looked at those words.) So they're debating on who to send over to the carmine/Zestial mansion. It's dangerous ground over there, after all.

Angel Dust steals more of Vox's clothes (and doesn't get caught) to make up for the set Charlie destroyed. He also gets away with one of Vox's shark plushies, which irritates Vox as it's the one with heating pad function in it that he uses for his cramps/neck pain/back pain. (Alastor rubs his scent all over the plush, before he returns it that night laying it beside Vox.)

Vox writes an entire speech for Charlie and Vaggie for their meeting up in Heaven. He's listened to Vaggie (and Lucifer's) descriptions of Adam and Lute and has given his best advice to the two for them. Unfortunately the meeting pretty much goes the same way, except that Charlie managed to get Adam pissed at Vox? So that's cool. Nothing like having the first man wanting you dead, right?

Vox drinks himself into a stupor that night. While, yes he's afraid of Alastor--the MAIN THING he is desperately, desperately trying to avoid is permanently dying. He doesn't want to die. At all. That's why he too the deal with Lucifer. Now he's gotta figure out more ways to help Charlie so he can gain more power so he can fight off Adam himself? Or at least beat him back enough so that Lucifer can arrive to kill him or Charlie can kill him or something. He doesn't know. Vox collapses into his bed that night, and passes out not noticing the radio demon stepping out of the shadows and joining him in the bed and curling around him.

swap nonny i may have to rename you to sadist nonny at this point. Why are you like this /affectionate

the stuff with the goetia is sooo silly. love that little bird thing even though ive no clue what the hell he would look like or even do at all honestly! hope he has fun trying to bartend (and hoo boy thatd probably be a big scandal, wouldnt it, having a goetian prince bartend at princess charlie's hotel...) for a bunch of idiot sinners lmao

al overhearing carmilla and zestial talking about the newly pushed forward extermination and immediately jumping to think about vox... he cant lose him AGAIN so soon after hes found him once more so after that his shadow sticks even closer to vox, and vox finds that sometimes when he passes out from working too much without taking a break that he wakes up in the morning with a fluffy blanket and food placed in front of him. he assumes its husk but when he asks, the other overlord denies it

LMFAOOO i can imagine angel sweating when vox storms downstairs in a frenzy going 'where the FUCK is my shark'. husk turns to look at him very slowly and just raises a singular eyebrow at him and angel shrugs very slowly. alastor returning the plush with his scent all over.... orugh. vox probably cant even smell it really, but for some reason his processors ingest the scent easily and he falls asleep better than ever for the first time in seven years.... </3 AUgh my heart...

and seriously. alastor you are SUCH a freak what the FUCK are you doing.... going to have to tag noncon cuddling at one point on madmans vice istg :sob:. i love them so much ugrh. swap radiostatic save me swap radiostatic

[heavencasteel420]

One of the major inspirations for my Hellcheer oneshot, Ugly as Sin, was "Lightnin' Strikes" by Lou Christie, a very weird, sexist 1965 pop song about a guy who tells his girlfriend that he can't control himself sexually around other girls, but that eventually he'll settle down with her and give all that up. She is not extended the same freedom; instead, she's "a girl he can trust, 'til the very end."

The sexism is obvious, but the song is weird because it has three verses, each composed of three musically/lyrically distinct parts, and the overall effect is that the narrator seems super-erratic. For example, the first version starts thus:

Listen to me, baby, you gotta understand. You're old enough to know the makings of a man. Listen to me, baby, it's hard to settle down. Am I asking too much for you to stick around?

This part of the song is very tense and anxious. He's either torn up about his own urges, or (more likely) he's really putting a hard sell on this girl.

The next part goes:

Every boy wants a girl he can trust, 'til the very end Baby, that's you--won't you wait? But 'til then--

The music here is much slower and soppier; it almost sounds like a school's alma mater. He's laying on the flattery thick.

Then:

If I see lips begging to be kissed! (Stop!) I can't stop! (Stop!) I can't stop!

The music turns martial at this point. The narrator is just cheerfully reveling in his sexual incontinence and, troublingly, the female background singers are telling him to stop. One hopes that they're just telling him not to run around on this long-suffering girl, but the other lyrics indicate that he might not be a "no means no" kind of guy.

(And then Lou Christie starts falsetto-ing that lightning is striking again for a while. I assume that this is a metaphor for the narrator coming everywhere.)

This is the kind of attitude that Chrissy imputes to Jason in the fic: that he respects her as a "good" girl who'll only let him "go so far," but that he also wants to have sex with "bad girl" Nancy and will do it with impunity. This is kind of right (Jason is pleased/relieved that Chrissy is a "good girl," he is attracted to Nancy, and he does think Nancy is a "bad girl") but kind of wrong (Jason is very ashamed of being attracted to the wrong kind of girl due to religious baggage/convoluted toxic masculinity, he's not cheating on Chrissy, and there are not many circumstances under which he would cheat on her). Yet it all feels true to Chrissy at her most insecure, and it makes her feel trapped and invisible. So she kind of sets out to do to Jason what she sort of thinks he's doing to her: keep him at a distance while secretly having sex with a less socially acceptable person.

And it's all more complicated than that, because Eddie and Nancy are both their own people, with vulnerabilities and inner lives and such, and Jason's greatest sin is really just being unthinkingly callous, but Chrissy has to figure that out herself.

[pastelaspirations]

How I beat sleep paralysis with the power of knowledge and my compulsive habit to research anything that I have the off chance to write about in a fic

DISCLAIMER: This is just how I beat it, people's experiences of sleep paralysis are different and some methods that may work for one person may not work for another.

Ya read the title correctly. I expect no one to read this, but I don't care. I must tell my story. In my special, niche way in that I can construct a story out of absolutely nothing with 5k words more than I needed to. So, come with me, as I recount the tale of how I successfully beat my first experience with sleep paralysis, armed with only the power of knowledge and my bad habit to extensively research anything that I might stick in a fic one day.

For some background; I have never had sleep paralysis before. Although, I have done lots of research into it in the past because I found it very interesting, not only from people's real accounts of it but from the ✧˖°.memes✧˖°. too. Your good ol' sleep paralysis demon memes. I also thought it might be interesting to write about one day! And because I pride myself on being... fairly accurate, I do a whole lot of research into things I may never actually write about because "what if one day I want to-"

So, I had a lot of prior knowledge to sleep paralysis, including what helped people wake up from it.

Additionally, I have insomnia. :D I haven't gone to a doctor to get it "officially" diagnosed, but I checked every box on the insomnia checklist. It's depressing, I know. I've had it for as long as I can remember. This is important to know as sleep disorders can increase your chances of experiencing sleep paralysis.

Insomnia makes my life very fun. Any sound or light can wake me up. Sleeping in a different bed prevents me from sleeping altogether. Being moved at all wakes me up. I wake up every time I need to toss over in bed, for example. So, just... it's g r e a t.

Anyway, this semester, two days of the week, I have to wake up at 6 in the morning in order to make it to an 8 o'clock class. It's bad. So, the night before, I take melatonin and at least try and go to bed early, all to attempt to combat my insomnia. However, my insomnia also likes giving me the problem of making it extremely difficult for me to fall asleep if I know I have to be somewhere in the morning. So, the days I need the sleep the most are ironically the days I get the least amount of sleep. :D

That said. The night before, I took melatonin and hit the sack relatively early. I also used a sleep mask just to block out any light in hopes that would help me sleep better.

Well, at one point, I think I was asleep? I am not sure. I felt like I was awake and just trying to sleep. Like, that weird, half-asleep daze, but you're still awake and not fully asleep. You get what I mean.

Suddenly, I feel all this movement and I hear all this sound. It's annoying, but I don't remove my sleep mask because I'm trying to sleep. Well, for some reason, I'm convinced my dog is on my lap, just tossing and turning trying to sleep.

Which is weird because he sleeps in my brother's room down the hall.

This does not concern me. I don't know why. I just ignore my "dog" as he's shuffling to get comfortable. He'll lie still eventually and then I'll be able to sleep. I just gotta wait it out.

Then. My bed starts jostling around even more. Now, I'm convinced my brother is in my bed. I DO NOT KNOW WHY, HIS ROOM IS DOWN THE HALL, WE DO NOT SHARE A BED. BUT I'M CONVINCED HE'S ON MY BED, FLOPPING AROUND AND EVEN OFF THE BED. JUST MAKING A WHOLE LOT OF NOISE AND SHAKING THE ENTIRE BED. BEING AWFUL.

This also does not concern me. For some freaking reason. You can see why I thought I was asleep now, huh?

I wanted to gripe at him. Tell him to knock it off, I've got to be up early in the morning and I'm trying to sleep.

But my voice wouldn't work.

I wasn't even alarmed, just thought that was weird. So, I just lay there, comprehending that, when my "brother" flopped off the bed. He then started banging around everything in the freaking room. He was being obnoxiously loud. Ridiculously loud. Banging on the walls, grabbing crap and throwing it around, he was deliberately trying to keep me from sleeping.

Now, I was ticked. I wanted to yell at him, tell him to KNOCK IT OFF. But still, my vocal folds wouldn't move. I couldn't speak even though my brain told myself to. I wasn't alarmed even now, all I thought was "Fine. If I can't tell you to shut up, I can sure as hell whack you-"

But my arm wouldn't move.

Now, I was concerned. I told my arms to move. I told my legs to move. Nothing moved. I told myself to scream. I remained silent. It was like the connection from my brain to my body had been completely severed.

My "brother" seemed to sense my irritation? Since he came stomping over and started violently shaking me in my bed. I couldn't fight back or scream, I was powerless. Then, he started pressing down on my chest. N o w, I was having a harder and harder time breathing.

All of this, mind you, I was experiencing completely blind because I couldn't remove my sleep mask.

I was beginning to freak out. Not only did I think I was going to die, but my brother.

My freaking brother is the butthead who's going take me out, what the hell. What kind of stupid Greek tragedy is this-

So, as I'm lying there, still blind with the sleep mask, freaking out and slightly annoyed at this is the way I'm going to die, a thought suddenly flashes through my head. Just one, singular thought.

"Oh! This is just sleep paralysis!"

I kid you not, that is literally what I thought.

Suddenly, all my fear evaporated. I was no longer scared. I just immediately went right into the tactic I read people who experienced sleep paralysis use to wake themselves up from it. I didn't even hesitate, just immediately jumped into it like I discovered a solution to a hard video game puzzle.

I focused all my attention on moving just one muscle. If I could move that one muscle, I could slowly work my way to other muscles, until I could move the whole limb or the rest of my face. So, I chose one eyelid. The one that would be peeking out from under the sleep mask if it were open.

I commanded and I commanded my eyelid to open. I willed it to open, the strongest I ever willed it to open before. Until finally, it snapped open. All of a sudden, all the shaking by my "brother" and all the sounds abruptly stopped. It was like nothing had happened, I was alone in my room.

So, I... just flopped over and went back to sleep. As fast as an insomniac can fall asleep anyway. I remember thinking "wow, that was a lot less scary than I thought it'd be."

AND LIKE. IT WAS. BUT BEFORE I KNEW WHAT IT WAS.

As soon as I realized, I wasn't scared anymore. It makes me wonder what would have happened if I didn't have the sleep mask on. Would I have seen an actual sleep paralysis demon?? I had the auditory and physical movement hallucinations. Who's to say I wouldn't have had a visual one too if I didn't have the sleep mask on?

But imagine that. Imagine you're a sleep paralysis demon, you've got all the power, until suddenly, your victim thinks in revelation, "Oh! You're just a sleep paralysis demon! I know what to do now! :D"

J u s t a sleep paralysis demon. Defeated by the power of knowledge and the off chance of being written about in a fic.

[genericpuff]

HEY SO I'M GONNA FINALLY ANSWER THE HANDS PART OF THIS QUESTION LMAO

don't get your hopes up tho, it's probably not gonna be that interesting because honestly?? I STILL SUCK AT DRAWING HANDS. ALL THE FUCKING TIME LOL I have little "quirks" with how I draw hands that make them evident that it was indeed I who drew them, and I still struggle with fingers specifically because I often have to redraw them during the process to make them look less like little freaking sausages. I owe that to my roots in cartoon/chibi-style art where sausage fingers were pretty much the norm, it drives me nuts when I end up with them on my normal-proportioned characters LMAO

That said, to me, "learning how to draw" whether it's hands, shoes, faces, etc. is literally just learning little tricks and secrets that help you understand the things you're studying better. And one little 'trick' I learned that helped me understand hand structure a lot more was from an Ethan Becker video talking about Loish's hands. I've been following the "when in doubtie one fingee outie" mantra ever since, it shouldn't be used as a default setting for fingers in every scenario obv but it DID help me understand more how the fingers moved relative to one another and how you could "trick" the complexity of hands into 1-2 easy shapes.

(if you've never watched Ethan Becker, don't take his style of comedy too seriously, he's not actually attacking anyone lol)

When it comes to my actual drawing process though, thanks to the way I draw Rekindled I've learned that I work a lot better by laying down solid shapes as my 'sketch', it works better for my brain to see immediately what's working and what's not, vs. a wireframe sketch that doesn't 'fill in the gaps' quite as much as solid color. So try that sometime, instead of sketching out a hand, just lay out the shapes with solid color. Personally I've learned the 'wireframe' structures or whatnot that you see in a lot of how-to-draw guides don't work for me because I find it over-complicates it-

(haha nope sorry too much for me, it's cool if this works for you but my brain cells are out on this one fam)

My brain thrives on simplicity and freedom of movement in my structures, so solid colors work a lot better for me in that regard. That said, what works for me might not work for you (and vice versa) so try your best to find new techniques and methods, you don't have to do the thing that people tell you you have to do to "get good". That's just what works for them.

And of course, do life studies! Here are some steps you can start off with that I think might really help for simplifying the life drawing process:

1.) Prepare a nice big canvas for yourself, if you're working digitally do not zoom in on that canvas, keep your fingers OFF that zoom wheel or the Z key or whatever you're clicking to zoom. Zooming removes the big picture and you need big pictures to break down.

2.) Pick a big brush size or a tool that can't become too detailed (so if you're doing digital, pick a round brush and bump the brush size up to a medium-large size, if you're doing traditional, get yourself a nice thicc charcoal stick)

3.) Rather than looking at other people's breakdowns of hands (which they made for themselves and their brains, not for you and your brain!) go and find some pictures of hands and break them down yourself, trace over them if you have to, fill them in with solid color or just draw yourself some cute mittens like Becker above, just whatever you gotta do to break those forms down into shapes that are simplified and easy for you to understand. Try out different hand shapes and finger positions, eventually you'll notice there are ways the hands can and cannot move and that's going to be the foundation you need to actually stylize them with your personal flair down the road - learn the rules first, then break them. And yes, tracing is okay if you're using it for educational purposes like personal art studies and shape breakdowns. Just keep it loose and for learning.

Yes, it really does come down to "just practice" BUT you can wind up practicing the 'wrong way' if you're doing the same things over and over again expecting different results so make sure to step outside of your comfort zone a little and experiment with new techniques even if it means coming up with your own. You never know what will work for you until you try it!

Hope that helps! Happy hand drawing! <3

Omg hiiii, I absolutely love Rekindled! You're so talented, and the story you're making for Persephone is so intriguing! A lot more than whatever trashfire Lore Olympus has become.

That being said, what was the moment you stopped liking LO Persephone? Have you always disliked her, or was it gradual? Or just a specific moment that made you go "yeaaaaah.. she's not it ;-;"

(And bonus question if I can ask, but how do you draw hands?? I hate them with a passion, but unfortunately hands are pretty necessary T^T)

aahhh thank you so much!!!

honestly, I was a pretty big fan of LO up until the trial arc. Like, you've all seen me hate this comic with a fiery passion, but the only reason I'm able to do that is because before I hated this comic, I loooved this comic. I'd literally be counting down the hours until new updates, I loved the art, and I was too smitten by the appeal of the series to notice its writing problems, I just loved the romantic drama and the H x P ship, and yes, I loved Persephone, I loved her design, her personality, and I felt so 'seen' by her struggles, both with her trying to pave a path for herself and the SA plotline. I was even (regrettably) one of those people who would lurk in the antiLO tags and think "wow, these people are dumb, can't they see how brilliantly written this is ?? they're nitpicking!"

But then the trial arc happened which involved writing a plot that didn't put the romance front and center anymore - now that Rachel had to actually write something complex and logic-driven, the blinders started to fall off and I went wait... maybe Rachel doesn't know what she's doing. Persephone choosing her own lawyer? And it's Hades, one of the judges? Why are they suddenly establishing Thanatos as Hades' adoptive son? I'm not a lawyer, but I know that's not how any of this works and it really tipped me off that something was amiss, that Persephone was having all of her solutions conveniently handed to her on a platter and all of the other characters were suddenly being made to look like assholes just to make Hades and Persephone the heroes.

And then... Eris happened.

See, one of the things I loved most in the story was Persephone's character arc concerning the Act of Wrath. I write stories about characters with dark "personas" all of the time. So it was something I had frame of reference for, I really loved the premise of Persephone earning her name through this act of violence and while it was dashed with the opening of S2 revealing it was "all an accident", I was excited to see how the trial arc would bring about new information and confirm who was telling the truth about what "really happened" with the Act of Wrath. If the courtroom drama wasn't gonna be realistic, I could at least hope for some good 'OBJECTION!' reveal that would finally put to rest once and for all what really happened, and maybe Kore would finally embrace this 'dark side' she had.

So for the actual twist to suddenly reveal itself as... 'actually, this one goddess we've never mentioned before blessed you with wrath. why? idk she just did. anyways she's the reason you have wrath and that's what made you commit the act of wrath. problem solved.'

And that was where the twisting of 'faith' happened. When I went through the subconscious realization of , "Oh no, Rachel doesn't know what she's doing and it took me this long to notice. Oh no, maybe those antiLO freaks had a point-"

That said, there was a glimmer of hope in the midseason finale. Persephone was sentenced to remain in the Mortal Realm to carry out her mother's duties and I thought, "great! This will be Persephone's Rocky moment! She'll have to prove herself without the help of Demeter or Hades! This is gonna be awesome!!" During the hiatus, I was VERY excited to see where the story was going, I still had so much hope and I figured the mishandling of the trial arc was just a bump in the road. The series was still good, it was just going through a rough patch, these things happen.

And then it came back and it all went downhill from there. There was a 10 year time skip with very little insight as to what happened. Minthe and Daphne were just suddenly back to normal. They were referencing some food shortage or terrible event that happened during Persephone's reign that they never explained in explicit detail. And now, all of a sudden, Persephone was just returning to the Underworld, where Kronos had suddenly taken over. I had cautious optimism but throughout it, I was really seeing the cracks that were already forming opening wide. A lot of what I had to say wasn't positive anymore, I literally couldn't understand what the reasoning was behind these writing decisions and I couldn't find myself rooting for Persephone anymore, everything just seemed to convenient and easy for her to make her seem like the "strong and confident" character the comic claimed her to be.

The S2 finale was my breaking point and I think it was for a lot of other people too. That was pretty much where my 'transformation' from passionate stan to passionate critic happened, and it happened alongside the creation of the UnpopularLoreOlympus subreddit which would become my new 'home' within the community. After seeing how much the story had gone downhill, it made me realize in hindsight just how awful and one-note Persephone is, how she really never cared about anyone but herself and Hades, how her mother did, actually, have a point about her being practically groomed into a relationship with a billionaire slave driver, how she was very intentionally drawn to look like a child in ways I couldn't believe I had never noticed before, the list of "awakenings" goes on. And it sucked! It sucked to have that realization that the thing I loved wasn't just imperfect, but incredibly problematic in its writing and art choices. And just like when I loved the comic, I couldn't just let go of it, I had to understand to some degree why this happened.

It happened because Persephone was always being written as a one-note, easy to project onto self-insert character. A Wattpad protagonist. Not an actual representation of the Goddess of Spring, but a blank slate for the creator and the fans to imagine themselves as purely for the power fantasy of hooking up with a rich and abusive guy.

That was when I made my first piece of LO art intended to be an 'edit' - a redraw of Persephone's rebirth as the Dread Queen from the S2 finale, an ode to the Persephone I was hoping to see but never got. The rest from there is history.

I know I'm being SUPER dramatic about it but this was literally how it felt to go through the realization that this comic - and its characters - wasn't as good as I thought it was, and I think that's a sentiment that's shared by a lot of the 'haters' in this community. LO was a big part of my life and even some of my friendships with people, so when it went downhill, it felt like such a hit to the gut. It's still a big part of my life, albeit in the opposite direction, but I still wonder sometimes over the "what ifs", what if the series hadn't turned out this way? What if I had never realized its flaws? Rekindled is basically a love letter to those what ifs, satisfying the feelings I never got to keep with LO, and giving me a reason to count down the hours on Saturday nights again. I'm glad it's made that same impact for others, too <3

[nameless-ken]

"Ofc I came for you, it'd take much more than that to stop me." For Daryl, please? :)

Thank you so much for the request! I loved this one! Hope you like it :)

Masterlist

You’ve been in this situation before except you weren’t alone. You, Daryl, Rick and Glenn were on a run when a hoard of walkers came out of nowhere. You tried to stay with any of the men but lost them in the crowd of zombies trying to eat you. 

You ran off to an abandoned building, finding a way inside and barricading the door as best as you can. You breathe heavily, not just from running but the thought of not making it out alive. You pace around, trying to calm yourself and figure out an escape plan. 

What has Daryl taught you? 

Daryl has been your closest friend since they all welcomed you into their wonderful but chaotic family. He’s always sitting there, quiet as a mouse, but with the most knowledge on how to protect yourself. 

He didn’t take a liking to you at first, mostly because who can you really trust nowadays? But eventually he warmed up to you. You stayed up with him through the rough nights and early morning guard duties. He taught you how to use his crossbow and how to properly shoot a gun. 

He’s been your protector ever since. Until now, you’re stuck, all alone. 

You look around the abandoned, rundown shop, seeing if there is anything that will help you get out but it’s all empty. Not a single thing but broken down shelves and trash scattered around. 

You press a hand to your chest as you back away slowly from the loud bangs on the door. The noise overtakes your ears and you feel your chest heaving. You slide down against the wall at the far end, cradling your knees to your chest with fresh, hot tears pouring down your cheeks. 

You know this is how it’s going to end, one way or another. There’s no avoiding it. You just weren’t prepared for it to happen today. 

You and Daryl made a pact that if one of you goes, you both do. You cry to yourself for losing him in that crowd. He’s probably cursing your name right now for not sticking by his side. You hate this feeling in your chest, like your heart is going to explode with the grief overpowering your body. Of all the times he’s gone out on runs without you, promising to come back safe, you never appreciated it as much as you would now. 

Your sobs break through, giving up on being quiet. You collapse on the floor in the fetal position, tears continually streaming from your eyes. You’ve never felt so defeated and alone. Even when this all began. You bounced around from various groups, never getting too attached to anyone until you arrived at the prison. 

Just as your eyes close, feeling too weighted, something touches you. You sit up quickly, backing away as fast as you can. You reach down, feeling around for your knife but nothing is there. 

“Hey, hey. It’s just me. It’s just me.” Your vision clears. Daryl crouches in front of you, blood and dirt covering him. “Come on, we gotta get out ��ere.” 

You feel like you’re in a dream. There’s no way he made it through that hoard of walkers. 

“Y-You’re h-here.” You sniffle, staring at him like he’s a ghost. 

“Yeah. I’m ‘ere.” He grabs your hands in his, helping you stand to your feet. You stumble slightly, catching your breath. 

“You came back for me.” You mumble, holding onto him tightly. He lifts your weak body up, carrying you in his arms. 

“Of course I came for you, it’d take much more than that to stop me.” Daryl carries you out of the building, running once you’re back out in the sun. You look around, walker bodies scattered around on the ground. 

Daryl makes it to the car where Rick and Glenn are waiting. He sets you down before sliding in next to you. Glenn takes off driving. 

“You alright Y/N?” Rick looks back at you with a relieved expression. You nod, shaking a little bit. 

Daryl reaches over, resting his hand over yours. You look over at him, scooting over to lay your head against his shoulder. You intertwined your fingers with his, squeezing his hand. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead as you close your eyes. 

“It’s either both of us or none of us.”

[skylarsblue]

May I request the slashers with a s/o that has an angry pet chihuahua that is so like confusing one minute they are laying on the couch with its fatass with derpy look on its face and then suddenly bite the fuck out of anyone and their s/o is like "awwwww my baby *kiss*" and the slasher is like wtf crazy ass rabies infested dog.. imagine the chihuahua biting s/o and they are just like babying it

Ps. I love the micheal myers fic you wrote 💓

One, thank you! Two, the images I got from this request were fuckin' hilarious, so thank you again. Michael Myers (OG)

He's gonna try to kill it. I'm sorry, he already hates dogs, this man is gonna see your little rat pup and immediately try to stab it. God forbid it starts doing that high-pitched yapping bark.

Now, if you manage to convince him to not kill your dog, by some miracle, he's still going to utterly despise it. Nothing will get him to like this dog. And he will never understand why you love it so much. Michael could somewhat understand if it was one of those big fluffy ones. Even he can admit that a Saint Bernard is cute, but this?

Honestly, you lose respect points every time you coo over it. On top of that, every time you give the dog affection, he's gonna hate it even more. Not only is it annoying but it also steals your love. He despises this dog. He hates it so much.

If the dog bites him, I pray you're there, because otherwise it's getting flung aggressively. If it hits something and gets hurt, Michael will give zero fucks. He'll hope it dies, honestly. However, if it bites someone else? Specifically, someone who interacts with you while you're out and about? Now that, he'll enjoy. The more damage is done, the better. It's the only time he'll be on your dog's side. If it happens frequently, he might come to tolerate your canine friend a bit more. But only because seeing people trying to talk to you end up losing a finger to something so tiny is funny.

(Oh also, Peepaw Myers is just gonna kill your dog. Straight up, it's dead, no negotiating. Sorry bro. More under the cut.)

Michael Myers (RZ)

While this version of Michael is a bit more tolerant of dogs, it does not mean he likes chihuahuas. He doesn't. Michael hates many things and your dog is likely one of them.

Problem one is the barking. Michael is prone to headaches & migraines, in which he gets very sensitive to light & sound, and the octave in which most small dogs start yapping is the worst to his ears. It genuinely hurts him. Problem two, dogs don't do Michael. Dogs just don't like him or his energy, so there's a good chance that him showing up will get your dog barking. Not only does it give him away, but again, his ears.

He's probably gonna try & kill it, honestly. It annoys him so much. Now, he'll be a bit more willing to listen when you beg him not to, but it's only because he loves you. He knows you love your pet, even if he utterly despises it. If you want to up the chance of your little pal not being crushed to death, be sure to smother Mikey in love before you even think about petting your pup in front of him. If it's gonna stick around, it has gotta be clear that Michael is the receiver of the majority of your love. He will not stand to be second place to your dog.

When your relationship is fresh, if your dog bites him, it'll be the same outcome as OG Myers. It's getting flung. However, if he's been around your dog more often? Eventually, he'll stop caring. It's not like it hurts all that bad anyway. Is it annoying to have a rat dog attached to your hand? Yes, but it's your dog, and Michael's just gotta deal with it. Maybe give ol' Mikey a treat for being nice to your puppy, he deserves it with all the patience he needs to show.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas doesn't really care. Dogs are cool! He likes dogs! Though, if he's being honest, he's not entirely sure why you chose this breed. They're tiny and they can't do much. But, he doesn't make any comments on it. Especially since Uncle Monty has a smaller dog.

When it starts barking, it doesn't bother Tommy as much. Honestly, who you need to be worried about is Hoyt. Because good ol' "sheriff" will absolutely try and kill your dog. If he's successful, he'll make you eat it because he's a sadistic asshole. Thomas doesn't mind because he's used to blocking out noise. Does he like it? No, but he can deal with it. Sometimes it comes in handy. Like when a meal manages to get free or if someone ends up trying to break in. Tiny dogs can be good alarm systems.

If your dog bites Thomas, he won't be too upset. He expects it, actually. Thomas is big and naturally threatening. On top of that, his hands usually have remnants of meat/blood on them. For all he knows, your dog just thinks he's food. If your dog is the type to play bite? It'll take Tommy a bit to understand it's playing, but once he knows, he finds it endearing. He'll offer the pup his finger to nibble on and pull at.

Thomas isn't the type to necessarily get jealous over your affection for the dog. He does want to know you love him too though, so he might get a bit of a sad expression if you choose to coo over your puppy when he's in the room. Make sure to turn to him and give him affection too! He doesn't mind your love for your pet though, in fact, it's probably what keeps your dog alive. Hoyt won't touch the dog if Thomas makes it clear that your pet is off-limits. He doesn't want you sad because someone hurt your puppy pal.

Bubba Sawyer

Your dog is gonna love Bubba. It doesn't matter how hostile your dog is, every animal on earth loves Bubba. He is Snow White. Now that says nothing about Nubbins, Chop-Top, or Drayton. Your dog will likely hate them, but, it'll love Bubba.

Bubba loves any animal! Your tiny rat dog is no exception. Though, they do get a bit anxious with something so small roaming around. He constantly worries that he'll step/sit/crush your little friend without noticing. It's probably best to keep your dog close to you or in a specific room so Bubba doesn't go around anxious every day.

Bubba will help keep your dog from being turned into a meal. He managed to convince Drayton to leave their favorite chicken alone, I'm sure they could manage to get the family to respect your puppy. He'll certainly throw a huge fit if anyone tries to do something to your dog when you're not looking.

Since your dog will love Bubba, it's probably not going to bite him. But I can guarantee that it'll bite Chop-Top. Nubbins will likely back off when your dog gets aggressive, but C.T will actively antagonize it. Then he'll be surprised when your pup fights back. Bubba will never get onto your dog though, he always scolds the person who was bitten. It has to be their fault! Bubba knows you and your dog are angels, so it must've been something they did to get bit, obviously.

Jason Voorhees

He doesn't mind at all! A dog is a dog. However, it will catch him off guard with how much anger is in that tiny body. It's so small but so hateful! It's nothing like that one dog he met once.

Jason might get a little sad if your dog doesn't like him, but he expects it. Much like Thomas, he knows he's big & scary, of course, a small creature would be threatened. If you explain that your dog is that with everyone, he'll cheer up. Jason's just glad it's not him your dog hates.

Your dog biting him won’t affect him. Yes, it can be a bit annoying, but it doesn’t matter to him. He has a high pain tolerance. He’s been stabbed, whacked, shot at. Your chihuahua munching on his fingers is gonna do nothing. He’ll merely tilt his head and wonder what he did to piss your pooch off.

Your dog manages to be quite useful when trespassers come around. Honestly, it works just as well as the bells. It can be troublesome when Jason’s trying to sneak around, but when your dog goes nibbling at the ankles of some teens trying to get freaky, he can’t help but he proud of your pup.

Lester Sinclair

Lester loves dogs! Big or small! Now, does he favor chihuahuas? No, he much prefers bigger dogs, especially ones that are easy to train. But he’ll still love your dog, even if it’s the ugliest teacup terrier to ever exist.

This poor man tries so hard to befriend your dog and he is so sad when it doesn’t take a liking to him. He’ll do his best to convince your dog he’s a friend. Absolutely drowns it in treats. When you explain that it’s not Lester, it’s just how your dog is, he’ll still try to he the exception to the rule. He wants to be your dog’s favorite.

He doesn’t really care when he gets bitten. Sometimes he’ll pout, because again, he wants your dog to like him. But it’s not like he’ll freak out. He’s used to getting scratched or bitten by random wildlife. His hands have tons of little scars. Watching your dog bite others makes him feel a bit better about when he gets munched on. It shows that it’s not just him, your dog is just an asshole.

The fact your dog is so small gives him a bit of anxiety. He sees tons of small animals on the road, people often don’t see tiny animals, and they’ll run right over them. So, he’ll explain how he’d rather your dog stay home or in his truck. If your dog ever got out, Lester would lose sleep. He loves your dog! Even if it hates him.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent’s pretty neutral about your dog. He’s more of a cat person, Jonesy being an exception. However, he’ll insist your dog stay out of his space, unless it’s the bedroom portion. There’s a lot of gaps and sharp things, heavy stuff that could crush a tiny dog. He’d rather your barking buddy not get in the way.

When your dog starts to go nuts, it catches Vincent off guard. They don’t expect such aggression from such a tiny creature. Especially if it’s the late night zoomies. They’ll go wide eyed, watching your dog run around with a sudden burst of energy, zooming in loops and straight lines across the house. He doesn’t know where that energy comes from and it never fails to catch him off guard.

If your dog bites him, he won’t outwardly make it a big deal, but Vincent will be noticeably more hesitant around it. They’ll try to avoid it, worried they’ll get those sharp canines stuck in their knuckles.

Don’t tell Bo this, but Vincent laughs whenever your dog bites his twin. Especially when it’s perfectly time. Like right as Bo is about to insult the dog, and your yappin’ fur baby ends up latching onto his ankle? Vincent can’t help but fight back the urge to wheeze.

Bo Sinclair

Bo doesn’t like small dogs. He’s the kind of guy to complain about any pet, but Jonesy was an exception. You dog is not. He won’t understand why you like it. It’s small, annoying, and “a little bitch” according to him. 

Your dog is probably gonna bite him all the time. Bo won’t hurt your dog, but if it bites him, he might reflex kick or smack. If it hurts your dog he’ll begrudgingly apologize. He doesn’t like your dog but he’s not into hurting animals either. Bo’s still gonna be pissy that your dog bit him though.

If it was up to him, he’d get rid of your dog. He wouldn’t just drop it off on a road or something. Ideally he’d give it to Lester or a no-kill shelter. But, you love your dog, and while Bo doesn’t understand why, he’s going to keep it around for you. He’ll look out for your dog because it’s your dog. He’ll never admit to it however.

Honestly, there’s a good chance your dog might start to like Bo, in its own way. You might occasionally catch your dog taking up space in Bo’s lap, or following him around the garage. In turn, Bo will start to be attached to your dog. Of course, he knows to expect your dog’s mood swings. And he gets great joy when that rage is directed at someone else. The first time your dog bites a visitor that’s been pissing Bo off, Bo laughs so hard he nearly falls to the floor.

Billy Lenz

Billy’s more partial to cats. It’s not really about dogs because of how loud they are, they’ll bark at him and sniff out his hiding places. They’re not great for when you’re trying to remain hidden in someone else’s house. But, he does like animals. He won’t mind you having a pet.

When your dog bites at people, he finds it funny. When your dog bites you, he’ll sometimes bite you as well, as if mimicking your barking bud. However, the second your dog bites him, he throws a fit. It really upsets him.

Billy will want just as much attention, if not more, as your dog. You best make it clear that you love it. When it sees you loving on your puppy, he’ll be sure to crawl on over and shove himself in the way, demanding your affection. It’s honestly a battle between the two of them.

He doesn’t hate or love your dog. It’ll want your dog to be okay with him, but he won’t care either way. As long as you like him. It wants your attention & your affection, he honestly might compete with your dog. 

(Oh also, Brahms just wouldn’t let you have the dog. That’s why I didn’t include him. Fur allergies & something taking your attention makes it a no.)

[spookysmujer]

Drip, O. Diaz

Summary: A weekend getaway to Sin City with Spooky. 

warnings: f l i t h, smut (+18) 🥵

word count: 1.6K

a/n: I have done my far share of Spooky smut, however, this is bringing all my wild fantasies to light. Let us all ask thy Lord for forgiveness with this one. As always, thank you for all the love! Please consider: following the blog, hearting/commenting/reblogging on my content, plus don’t forget to turn on notifs for when something new is posted!  Ligera is meant to mean lightweight.

requested by: @okatu-trash

(gif belongs to @thesewickedhands ✨ )

All you could think of is the feeling of his hands on your body. His breath fanning across your skin and eyes burning into yours. There are no words to describe the buzz running through your veins knowing that you are about to get your shit rocked by Oscar “Spooky” Diaz. In a hotel room, in Sin City.

The night was spent well, the both of you spending it downtown on Fremont street. The bustling crowd and the endless vendors of alcohol had you feeling good all night. As Oscar stopped to get you one of those 48 oz slushie drinks and himself a corona, you noticed the lingers stares some girls would give him. It sparked a little jealousy, but you were quick to remind yourself that he is here with you, miles upon miles away from Freeridge.

He takes a sip from your drink and grins as he hands it to you, “That’s gonna knock you off your ass halfway through, ligera.” You stick your tongue out as you get a taste and roll your eyes back in satisfaction. Oscar takes your hand and you two walk through the crowd. 

You can’t help but look at him from time to time. The more you drink, the more your body aches for him. Ligera, as he said before. Once intoxicated, you can get horny real bad. As you two stop for a brief moment, you squeeze your legs together, “Que? Tienes que ir al baño?”

Oscar asks, noticing how one foot crossed over the other. You shake your head and swirl your tongue around the straw before sucking on it. He creases his eyebrows and slightly licks his bottom lip. He stops looking at the graphic tee and steps in front of you. You look up at him, the height difference sticking out like a sore thumb, you crank your head to the side and sip from your drink. His jaw clenched as he watches you lick your lips and step closer to him, your chest against his now.

“I wanna fuck. Take me back to the room.”

The blood is pumping as the two of you head back to rent-a-car,  once he leaves the parking lot, you are leant over the middle console, kissing his neck and feeling him through his pants. He is groaning lowly, trying to avoid his eyes rolling back as the sensation of your lips put him in a trance. 

By the time you’re in the hotel lobby, Oscar’s neck sports darkening bruises from you and a visibly noticeable tent in his pants, to which you had to stand in front of him til you got to your room. And once you are, you’re laid back on the bed, feeling your legs and opening them to see Oscar is stalking towards you. 

He leans down and puts his hands on the side of your head, dipping his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and suckling on the skin.  Your hands find the back of his neck and head, eventually moving down his back and finding the hem of his shirt, tugging it to give him the signal you want it of. He sits up for a moment to pull it off and falls back on you, you giggle and wrap your legs on his hips to lock him in.

“You gonna fuck me good?” A hum in response. 

Oscar pulls your tube top down, your breasts now exposed and the cool air conditioning has your nipples hardening instantly. He bites his bottom lip as he lays halfway on you and brings his hands to cup your breasts together. His mouth hovers over and he peers up at you as he takes a nipple between his teeth, tugging at it before covering it with his mouth, swirling his tongue on the hardened bud.

A small moan escapes you as he continues his assault on your breast. The low friction has you moving your hips against his body, the desire growing the more he spends time sucking and biting. You tip your head back as your hips buck up, giving him the signal that you want it already. 

He sits up to unbuckle his pants which gives you the time to shimmy out of your clothes. You don’t have the patience for foreplay right now, the alcohol had stimulated you enjoy throughout the night already, you’ve got your fingers playing with your heat as you watch him strip completely bare. He strokes himself with one hand as his other motions for you to turn around to give him a view of that culo.

You bite your bottom lip and get on all fours, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you look back, you tease by leaning back then forward, away from him. Your ass jiggles as you move your hips, waiting for him to make a move. He steps closer and grabs your hips to pull you back, resting his hardening member on your bare cheeks, you moan as you move to give it some friction. He lets you do this for a moment longer before guiding his shaft through your slick folds, an audible gasp escapes you when you feel his cock rub against your clit. 

He can feel your body jolt. You mewl as he continues to do so for a moment or two longer, you’re about to complain when his tip begins to tease your entrance, you push back until he is fully seethed snug inside of you. The feeling takes over your entire body, you can feel every nerve lit on fire. It’s when he pulls nearly all the way out but then suddenly back in that  you groan and let your face fall into the sheets. Oscar begins a pace, with his fingers digging into your hips. 

The santo knows exactly what he’s doing as he watches the way your booty ripples like waves as your bodies meet in the middle. The faint sound of your skin slapping together is drowned out by the sound of your moan now, “Fuuuuck, harder.”

As your wish is his command. He reaches to grab your wrists to hold behind you back, holding them so you can’t go anywhere as his pace begins to pick up. The harsh slapping noise is like music to your ears. You turn your face to look towards the closet as its doors are mirrors. You watch as Oscar’s face contorts the more he watches himself go in and out of you. You close your eyes for a moment when he lets go of you and pulls out. 

Oscar wanted to enjoy this moment to its full capacity. He steps over to his duffel bag and pulls out the bottle of coconut oil that he packed in hopes Sin City would get nasty and Freeridge knows Oscar Diaz can turn hopes and dreams into reality real quick. 

He steps back behind you, still in the same position, pops the cap open and squeezes it gently onto your bosom. “Hmm.” You hum as he sets the bottle down and rubs the oil into your skin, your ass glistening under the light as resume his previous assault on your mound seconds earlier. 

The oil is spread completely on your skin, Oscar even massages some of it to your lower back. His fingers slip around as he grips your hips again, entering himself into your slick sex. He groans out loud, letting his eyes close while his tips back. You’re putting in more work by throwing it back for him.

As if this moment can’t get any better Oscar thumb starts toying with another hole of yours. You moan as the pleasure of it takes you by surprise. Your experience with anal hasn’t exactly been much but Oscar knows that you aren’t foreign to it. He can feel your body stiffen when he pushes his thumb slightly in. When he feels that you’ve relaxed he begins to thrust into you again.

And before you know it, you are releasing. Moaning and shuddering, your walls squeezing him like vice. “Oh fuck.” You cry out as continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He feels his own coil snap and he pulls out and strokes himself before his seed spurts onto your shining butt.

He grabs his cock and slaps it on your ass a few times before taking it and pushing himself into your warm cunt. You gasp as the sensitivity, the both of you do. He thrusts a few times, not being able to ignore the sensitivity though he wanted another go at you. 

“You get what you want?” Oscar asks as he lays a smack on your ass before stepping away. You smirk and grab the towel he flew besides you. “More than so. Didn’t know you had that coconut oil in there though.”

Oscar laughs and hoists the duffel bag on the bed. He opens the zipper and you step forward while wiping your behind off. Your eyes widen as you see he has an array of sex toys, including a few glass anal plugs, hand cuffs and belts along with multiple bottles of lubes. 

When you look up at him to say something, nothing but a squeak comes out. He grins and steps forward to give you an open mouth kiss. He steps back towards the door and grabs the ice bucket on the bedside table, he looks at it before looking at you, “We ain’t done, gotta get one more thing before we continue.”

What happens in Vegas, well… the entire 19th floor knows.

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[bubblegumfics]

Everyone is falling in love-Jeff the Killer(woods ver.) SMUT 18+

Finally, after a few weeks I got this to turn out how I wanted it to. Experimenting with these characters to create my own versions for you all to enjoy is what makes me happy so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Also I feel like I shouldn't have to say this but be careful when partaking in drugs and be aware of some of the risks of how you consume it before you do.

-your local poltergeist stoner

Warnings: smut, drug use(weed), shotgunning, slight dubcon(?), ,deepthroating, petnames, knifeplay--Minors dni 18+

AFAB, she/her pronouns used,

word count:2.4k

Jeff was known for throwing the best underground parties around, however, it was only a matter of time before the rush of being in abandoned warehouses or allegedly (absolutely) haunted places wore off. Eventually he needed something more.

“Oh Y/n dear~.” He spoke in a scratchy yet dulcet tone, laying back onto the couch.

“What do you want, Jeffery?” Y/n clicked open the phone, rolling their eyes as a pang of annoyance runs through their system.

“I’m planning a party tonight. A big one. I think you should come.” He laughs, playing with the knife in his hands, running a finger along the edge.

“Where is it? Actually why such short notice? You’re usually good at planning these things.” her brows furrowed in confusion as he let out a chuckle.

“Well, I don’t think I need a reason, do I? But if you must know, it's going to be at the manor.” She blinked repeatedly wondering if she actually heard him right.

“So surely you understand why I can’t just plan now, can you? Everyone will be out tonight, except Ben of course.” Of course, he usually went along with Jeff’s bullshit, but this is something else entirely. To cross the manor and the people who live in it is the same as crossing the operator himself which would most always have fatal consequences. I mean it's not like Jeff followed any rules or alignments nor does he care to, so what’s one more notch in his bedpost?

“So, you in?”

“Are you kidding? I gotta be there for this. Pick me up in ten.”

She hung up the phone, silence once again consuming the room. How did this even start again? She was supposed to die that night as just another faceless victim of his wrath with the cold blade he held pressed into her neck, but with few words, managed to confuse him enough to stay alive at least one more day. He came back pretty often after that, which made y/n grow less fearful and more frustrated at the smiling man. After awhile he just stopped murder attempts altogether and would opt to show up whenever and stay as long as he pleased.

“Hurry up fuckface!!” Jeff blared on the horn, sticking his head out the window of the car. “Ugh.” She locks the door behind her and enters the vehicle, already placing a hand on the grab handle as a precaution.

“Are you ready for the ride of your life?” He chuckles, placing the car in reverse and looking back. Y/n couldn’t tell what she was more anxious about, Jeff’s driving or going back there. The manor isn’t a new place to her, but ever since she had gotten somewhat close to Jeff, it only seemed to serve as a reminder about her life getting flipped upside down. The wool was pulled from her eyes that day and all questions of missing people or mysterious happenings were all answered the second she walked through the door, no one needing to utter a word.

It was large and foreboding, although kept surprisingly well with the wood darkened and stained with age, but remaining just as sturdy as the day it was cut. A garden sat up front with various plants that held different foods and flowers growing together separated only by a path you could travel through that led to the front door.

“Are you sure about this?” She asked, unsure of what to do. Sensing her unease, he places a hand to her thigh. A blush dusted across her face, averting her gaze slightly to fidget with the ripped bits of her jeans instead.

“No, but that’s what makes it so exciting.” He gripped the wheel tightly with his free hand, playing with it as he schemed, staring at the building with a glint in his eyes. Y/n couldn’t help but smile softly at him.

“Come on, we should hurry in before more people show up.”

Tables were filled with food and alcohol, speakers already blaring dance music, with Ben manning the dj station.

“People are starting to show up.” It wasn’t long before the party was in full swing and packed full of people dancing mindlessly to the music that was somehow even louder than it was earlier. Jeff stood on the staircase, red solo cup in hand as he watched the patrons go wild.

“Wow. I didn’t think you’d actually be able to pull this off.” Jeff turned, looking down to face Y/n, waving her over.

“Ouch, honestly im hurt” he clutched his chest in a joking manner and mischief painted on his face.

“Hey.” His face was centimetres away from hers in a second, he practically beamed as he grabbed her wrist to shove her hand into his pocket.

“Jeff quit being a perv-” They trailed off after feeling the rolled joints, matching his expression of pure glee once she realised what it was.

“Are we gonna light them to start passing them around?” He scoffed, turning to climb the stairs, looking back and motioning for her to follow him.

His room is about as messy as you’d expect. Clothes are thrown across the floor without a care and alcohol bottles peeking out of the closet from an overflowing bin.

He excitedly went to the window, opening it to let the cool breeze in, picking up the lighter from the corner as well as the items in his pocket. Y/n reached to grab one but Jeff placed his hand over hers, shaking his head.

“I have an idea, just…. don’t freak out.” He picks up the joint, hesitation influencing his every movement, examines it then puts it to his lips and lighting. He took a long drag, placing one hand on her shoulder, placing the other one when the burning joint was in the small glass tray. she looked at him confused when he pulled her closer to his frame.

“Jeff what the fuck are you doing?” He doesn’t answer, but instead places his lips to hers, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue. He exhaled and the smoke that was once in his lungs filled hers. She grasped his forearm for support when he pulled away, stunned as she exhaled with a cough.

“Not gonna lie, that was kinda hot.” She was breathless, the act freshly burned into her mind, a pleasant feeling creeping up in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t quite place, but she spoke before she got a chance to process it.

“Do it again.” She neared his now pink-dusted face and he fumbled for the items again. This time she was prepared, closing her eyes when he set the things down and running her fingers through his hair. When he finished she pulled his head down and onto her neck, letting out a rasped moan, watching the smoke escape in a haze as he placed kisses and bites along her skin.

“I want you so bad.” He looked up at her with pleading eyes. He looked and sounded completely vulnerable, hinting that his words extended beyond physicality.

“All of you. Your stupid face, your voice, your body. Any way that I can have you is how I want you No, how I need you.” He slid his hands under her shirt, running his hands up and down her sides.

“I can be good for you, just let me show you.” She did not speak, processing his unusual sweet, even charming words, instead opting to smash her lips into his in a passionate kiss. It isn’t long before he is making his way back down to her neck again to mark it with red bitemarks and bruises.

“What if someone hears us?” She manages to choke out between gasps and quiet moans. He smirks, the heaviness of his breath on her ear as he moves to speak.

“Isn’t that part of the fun? Besides, the music is way too loud for anyone to suspect anything.” Guiding them backwards they both fell into the bed with him hovering over her. He lifted her shirt over her head, nibbling and kissing the now exposed flesh of her chest to make his way down to her pants.

“Jeff.” She begged. For what she wasn’t quite sure, but with her high kicking in and the arousal of having him so close to somewhere so intimate clouded her judgement.

“Please.” He obliged, pulling down the garment to join the rest, chuckling when he sees the wet spot pooling in y/n’s underwear.

“And here I was worried you didn’t feel the same way.” He traces his index and middle finger up and down her clothed slit in slow, calculated ministrations.

“Shut up.” She bit her lip to stifle her moans when he moved her panties to the side, inserting a finger with his thumb circling her clit.

“You’re so wet for me. I don’t even really need to really do this.” He curled his finger to rub that spongy sweet spot repeatedly, adding a second soon after causing her to let out heaving moans. He listened to the squelch coming from her lower region with a quirked brow and y/n couldn’t help but cover her face in embarrassment.

“Come on baby~ It’s sexy seeing you so sensitive from just my fingers.” He leaned in until his lips were millimetres away from the shell of her ear.

“Imagine how you’ll be once you take all of me.” He practically growled in her ear and she clenched around his fingers

“I don’t want to imagine. I need you inside me.” He pulled out, leaving her empty and he placed them in his mouth, curling his tongue around each digit to taste all of her.

“But I'm not done playing yet, doll.” He moves off the bed to take off his hoodie and jeans, the bulge in his pants painfully obvious, even more apparent when he was only in his boxers.

Y/n crawled over to meet him at the edge of the bed, looking up at him innocently as she runs her hand up and down his hip and thigh.

“Please, I'll do anything you want.” Her hands were already holding the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down. To reveal more and more of him.

“Just give me your cock.” His mouth hung open as he took in the sight below him, allowing her to fully uncover his length. Placing a hand to her cheek, guiding her to take his length.

“Then suck.” Wasting no time, she licks a stripe up from his balls to his tip then moves to take him in. He groaned at the feeling of her tongue playing with the tip whenever she came up, teeth grazing him.

“S-stop teasing. I thought you said you would do anything. That means even this.” He grabs the sides of her head and shoves her down until she took all of him down her throat. She gagged, pushing at his thighs helplessly.

“I thought you wanted to be my little fleshlight?” He pulls her hair so she is making eye contact with him. His aura changed, what was once soft and loving had been replaced with something more sadistic. In a normal setting, this would be terrifying but his unpredictable expression only enhanced the arousal from their current act.

He fucked into her throat in slow, deep thrusts, grunting and hissing at the intense pleasure.

“As much as I love how your mouth feels, I’d rather cum inside That pretty pussy of yours.” He reaches behind her, unclipping her bra to play with her breasts, kneading them in his hands then pulling out of her mouth shortly after, a string of saliva connecting them to each other. He crawled over her, leaning her back onto the plush mattress.

“Say you want me.” He lined his cock at her entrance, nuzzling his face into her neck. Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck and legs on his waist.

“Jeff… I want you. I need you more than anything.” He tightened his grip on her sides and eased into her wetness with a breathy moan. He waited to move, noticing Y/n’s gritted teeth and tightening grip.

“You feel better than I ever imagined.” It took everything for Jeff to stay still. His cock twitched just from being inside her, soaking in the feeling of her tight walls squeezing him as she tried to adjust.

“Move” she bucked her hips to meet his in an attempt to create some friction. He happily obliged and began moving at a rough, slow pace. He took his time with each thrust as he tried to commit every way she squeezed him or rubbed him just right to memory. Every one was filled with devotion as each slap of skin on skin echoed along walls and into their ears, moans escaping their mouths, nearly masking the sound of the night stand drawer opening.

“Mine. All mine.” The grip he held against her hip was sure to leave a bruise, but that thought was secondary when they felt the familiar cold sharp object dancing up and down her side.

“It's been a while since we’ve been in position, hasn’t it?” His voice, although playful, held something else that teetered on unstable, something that could snap should anything give him the reason to. But he wouldn’t hurt her, would he? Every few passes he would press hard enough to scratch the skin or thrust a little harder than usual to draw blood. The anticipation and fear tightened the knot building in the pit of her stomach along with each movement he made.

“I can't believe we’re so close now. We’re practically one.” The knife trailed down to her thigh, staying there although moving as if in contemplation.

“Mind, body, and soul.” He moaned at her words, hips sputtering at their pace.

“Shit Y/n I’m gonna cum.” He began thrusting faster and uneven, biting down on her shoulder moaning as he released inside her. The warm, full feeling pushed her past the edge.

“Jeff!” She screamed his name like a mantra, over and over as she spasmed around him. They stayed like that for a few moments, catching their breath until he pulled out to lay beside her, wrapping her in his arms”

“You know, you were actually really sweet tonight.” She said, still panting slightly. He looked over to her and stuck out his tongue with a smile.

“Yeah, but it’s not like anyone’s gonna believe you if you mention it.” He places a kiss on her forehead.