#some only children also wouldn’t have it any other way?

[citrusraindrops]

Male abusers often call themselves victims; The spread of the myth of (equally prevalent) female abusers directly harms female victims, because it means their partners' lies are believed by police and other authorities. And the myth of anti-male bias in courts stymies female victims as they try to escape their abusers.

I'm going to recommend once again Why Does he do That? by Lundy Bancroft. In chapter two, Bancroft writes:

Even if abused men didn't want to come forward, they would have been discovered by now. Neighbors don’t turn a deaf ear to abuse the way they might have ten or twenty years ago. Now, when people hear screaming, objects smashing against walls, loud slaps landing on skin, they call the police. Among my physically abusive clients, nearly one-third have been arrested as a result of a call to the police that came from someone other than the abused woman. If there were millions of cowed, trembling men out there, the police would be finding them. Abusive men commonly like to play the role of victim, and most men who claim to be “battered men” are actually the perpetrators of violence, not the victims.

From chapter 12:

A remarkable number of judges grant restraining orders to abusers to use against their victims or grant mutual orders, which validate the abuser’s claim that his partner shares responsibility for causing his scary behavior ... I have also worked with many [probation officers] who buddy up to the abuser with a wink and a nod, who bond with him in the belief that there exists an anti-male bias in the court system and who signal him that he needn’t take the abuser program seriously by saying things such as: “Just show up to your required number of group meetings and we’ll get you right off probation.”

From Chapter 3:

The abuser’s highly entitled perceptual system causes him to mentally reverse aggression and self-defense. When Tanya attempted to defend herself against Emile’s life-threatening attack, he defined her actions as violence toward him. When he then injured her further, he claimed he was defending himself against her abuse. The lens of entitlement the abuser holds over his eye stands everything on its head.

One of my areas of specialization is court-related work involving abusers who are physically violent or who abuse their children. I frequently encounter court personnel who say: “Well, she accuses him of abusing her, but he denies it.” They then drop the matter, as if the man’s denial closes the case. They also tell me: “He says she does the same things to him, so I guess they abuse each other.” This kind of denial and cross-accusation tells us nothing about whether the woman is telling the truth. If the man is abusive, of course he is going to deny it, partly to protect himself and partly because his perceptions are distorted. If he were ready to accept responsibility for his actions in relationships, he wouldn’t be abusive. Breaking through denial and minimization is one of the main tasks facing an abuse counselor. Most of the men in my groups admit to some abusive behavior —although they don’t see it as abusive, of course— but they acknowledge only a small portion of what they have actually done, as I learn when I interview the abused partners.

Abusive men push and push against a woman's boundaries in a relationship, breaking her down, and when she tries to defend herself against abuse or speaks out in any way he uses it as evidence that she is irrational and that she is the abuser. We unfortunately saw this happen to Gabby Petito and Amber Heard. In both cases when the victim was pushed past her limits and showed emotion at being abused, it was used as evidence that they were abusive.

Domestic violence is more common in lesbian relationships than it is in heterosexual relationships.

the point is that in heterosexual relationships men and women are equally likely to initiate DV. When examining female only relationships they are more likely to suffer violence than male only relationships.

Researchers theorise women initiate violence more often because society tends to ignore female violence and punish male violence harshly. They see no downside. This effect is magnified in female only relationships.

This info is not intended to put anyone down.

To add to this, heterosexual DV is still going to be more common than lesbian DV based purely upon the number of heterosexual couples when compared to lesbian couples. This isn’t to put down lesbians, it’s a statistic that I’m not too sure if it’s still liable or not.

So, apparently I need a frequently asked questions page ... or something.

You are wrong anon; these statements are factually incorrect.

Domestic violence is NOT more common in lesbian relationships. (And the larger post for context.)

Men and women do NOT have similar rates of domestic violence. (See, also, this post.)

People support/fail to support male/female victims and condemn/fail to condemn male/female perpetrators at similar rates. (Also see this post and this post.)

There is also no evidence of a criminal sentencing disparity caused by sex.

"This info is not intended to put anyone down." -> Yes, I am sure you came to this blog where I discuss the pandemic of male violence against women to claim that, against all substantial, overwhelming, evidence to the contrary women are actually more violent than men to be ... friendly.

Male violence in heterosexual relationships is higher in both absolute and relative terms (see above).

"it’s a statistic that I’m not too sure if it’s still liable or not" -> I'm guessing you meant either "reliable" or "viable", in either case, it was never reliable, or viable, or true. It's a homophobic, misogynistic myth perpetuated by malice and poor understanding of statistics.

[starcraftt]

Ponyboy Curtis: Sensitive and Reckless

The sun trailed over the cut of the valley, silver linings reflected against the sunset, shimmering in the early morning sunlight. A small wisp of sunlight rose further, pink shining above it – different colors almost in cut layers. Gold to orange, the colors faded into each other. Reddish hair covered with blond bleach, the colors reflected in a swirl of gray and green eyes. The sunset is quite admirable, with its colors and mist. Most people tend to enjoy watching it, and so does Ponyboy. Ponyboy Curtis – a character from the novel: “The Outsiders”, written by S.E. Hinton – is quite thoughtless with his actions, sensitive with his feelings and thoughts, and considerate for the wellbeing of others.

Ponyboy is very thoughtless – without consideration of the possible consequences – of the future or dangers his actions might cause; getting told off about it by his eldest brother quite often. At the beginning of the book, Ponyboy is jumped by the Socs, a group of upper-class boys threatening the fourteen-year-old. Ponyboy had gone with no one with him and hadn’t brought some type of weapon as well. “I glanced around for a pop bottle or a stick or something – but there was nothing” ( S.E. Hinton, 4 ). The quote proves that Ponyboy was desperate for a way to defend himself, meaning he hadn’t brought along something that could’ve helped him in that situation. He hadn’t thought ahead and brought a switchblade despite knowing that the Socs could jump him at any given moment. Something that also could have prevented that happening is if he had waited for one of his older brothers or asked a friend to go with him, as it’s doubtful the Socs would jump two Greasers. With thoughtlessness though, comes recklessness. It’s quite obvious Ponyboy didn’t think about the future consequences of walking alone, with nothing to defend him but the hands at his sides, which he wouldn’t be able to use against a blade anyway. When Dally brought Johnny and Ponyboy back to the church from Dairy Queen, it was seen on fire, and Ponyboy almost immediately jumped out of the car to go and run inside – after hearing that there were children still inside the burning building. “I jerked loose and ran off. All I could think was: We started it. We started it. We started it!.” He just ran inside after thinking that it might’ve been his and Johnny’s fault for starting the fire, which also slightly goes with being considerate. Ponyboy, instead of thinking of what might happen to himself if he did go inside the burning church, decided to run inside, despite all the warnings from the others around him. Jerry and Dallas to name a few. The only thing mentioned that was on his mind was the fact that Johnny or himself might’ve started the fire with a cigarette they didn’t put out all the way. He felt guilty enough to try and make up for it, which again, goes with being considerate a bit. If he had thought of what may have happened to him or anyone who followed, things that did happen might’ve not. He faced the onerous emotion of guilt and couldn’t stop to think about it. Ponyboy is not very conscious of how his decisions might affect him in the future, making him thoughtless about how things may play out. He’s not very pragmatic about what he might do, and this affects most of what happens in the book, the obvious being him getting jumped at the beginning and the church fire, but also when he ran away from the Curtis household after Darry had hit him, and when he talked back to Bob and Randy at the park, mocking the Socs in return to a similar insult.

The youngest Curtis brother is also quite sensitive, a contrast to what his older brother, Darry is. Ponyboy is sensitive to his feelings and often finds himself spiraling down his emotional thoughts. Ponyboy, whilst in the church still with Johnny, had to get his hair cut so the paper reporting the murder wouldn’t describe what they looked like correctly. The author writes, “Johnny flipped out the razor-edge of his switch, took hold of my hair and started sawing on it. I shuddered. “Not too short.” I begged. “Johnny please . . .” ( S.E. Hinton, 72 ). This part is particularly obvious of Ponyboy being sensitive, as Johnny’s just cutting his hair. Of course, Ponyboy mentions that it’s his pride and joy against the Socs Mustangs and Madras, but it would be more logical to not be recognizable by anyone who’s read the paper. He’s desperate for Johnny to not cut his hair, practically begging Johnny not to cut it ‘too short’. During the chapters when Johnny and Pony were at the church, Ponyboy wakes up early one morning, in time to see the sunrise. Johnny soon follows and the two end up watching the sunset together, with Ponyboy reciting a poem by Robert Frost ( Nothing Gold Can Stay ). Ponyboy states “I was trying to find the meaning the poet had in mind, but it eluded me. ‘I always remembered it because I never quite got what he meant by it,” (Hinton 78). This sunset scene, and quote, show that Ponyboy takes time out of his day to enjoy the small things such as the sunset, something his brothers may not do. He’s sensitive instead of cold and logical, memorizing a poem he didn’t understand instead of ignoring what he didn’t understand and moving on to what they did know. Spending his time trying to make sense of the poem instead of forgetting it and progressing. Ponyboy’s sensitivity affects many points in the books, most obviously what differentiates him from the others, who are all tough, cold, and mean. He’s not afraid to speak his feelings to most people, anyone who’s really willing to listen, he ends up speaking to them about things he enjoys or needs to talk about. For example, when he told Cherry what happened to Johnny without really realizing it he started rambling about the story.

The fourteen-year-old in high school is also very considerate of others' well-being, for some reason only thinking ahead for that reason: if he can help them, and not what might happen to him if he does end up doing what may help them. He’s very conscious of what might make others feel better or worse — having sensitive insight. Later in the book, before the rumble, Cherry meets up with Two-Bit and Ponyboy as they’re heading home from the hospital. Cherry and Pony talk for a bit, ending up in an argument of sorts, and when Ponyboy notices this, he attempts to make Cherry feel better – and also silently admits to himself that he would help Cherry if she needed it. He states, “I would. I would help her and Randy both if I could” (Hinton, 129). This shows that Ponyboy notices Cherry about to start crying from their argument – or her grief about Bob – and he’s willing to try and fix it to make her feel better. This indicates that Ponyboy is quite considerate of other people’s feelings and emotions and he’s willing to try and make them feel better; maybe at the cost that he won’t feel better himself. Near the end of The Outsiders book, after all the events of the rumble and Johnny and Dally’s death, Ponyboy finds himself in a predicament where a group of Socs try to attack him, and as a weapon, he shatters a glass bottle. After the Socs leave, Ponyboy ends up picking up the glass shards, and he thinks, “I didn’t want anyone to get a flat tire,” (Hinton 172). Considerate means being careful not to cause inconvenience or hurt to others, and Ponyboy is doing just that. He’s being careful not to hurt anyone who might injure themselves if they step on the glass, and he’s making sure the shards aren’t inconveniencing anyone driving as well, and picking up the glass shows he is thinking of others. Being considerate is just a simple addition to the multitude of attributes Ponyboy has, and even throughout the events that happen in the book, such as losing two of his best friends and having to go through trial, Ponyboy stays considerate — still continues thinking about others. I figure this affects most of his decisions, such as how he went into the church fire to save the kids stuck inside, and when he listens to Randy despite the fact that he could’ve been hurt.

Ponyboy Curtis is quite thoughtless of future consequences, sensitive, and considerate of other people’s feelings. He is quite relatable with these traits, as many people could relate to not thinking ahead, or being more connected with their feelings than other people. 

[lifetimeoftired]

How to adopt a dead kid in three weeks or less

It's midnight and I'm hopped up on that ADHD juice. Been thinking on and off about this prompt and how things play out. Might clean this up for ao3 posting later but whatever.

Part 1 || Part 2

____

Danny can feel the weight of their stares like it’s physical. A last mournful glance at his pancakes- Actually no, fuck it. He grabs the last one from his plate, flashes the whole Wayne family a peace sign, and turns invisible. The pancake is eaten as he dashes out the door and away from the shouting and chaos he leaves the family in.

 -

“Where the FUCK did he go!?” Jason’s shout somehow made it above the din of the others- and got Bruce and Dick yelling ‘language’ back at him. The pricks.

“I say! Watch your tone Master Jason! As for the rest of you-” The whole family shut the immediate fuck up when Alfred speaks. His displeased expression more than enough to cow them into submission. “I expect you to clean up after yourselves today and a quiet trip to the batcave to find our new ward. Master Jason, you will be taking care of Master Danny’s plates, and I will hear of an apology from you for scaring that poor boy.”

There’s a chorus of ‘yes Alfred’ from the chastised bats, but Bruce- carefully mind you- presses.

“Alfred, how long has he been here? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“The young master has been staying for the past three weeks sir. And despite my best attempts, I have not yet been able to convince him to sleep in his own room.”

Bruce groans and rubs at his face before turning back to his other children, “Nobody thought to tell me!?”

The kids all look at each other, and then back at him with the most judgmental ‘are you serious’ looks they can muster. Except Cassandra, who very excitedly signs; New brother! All Bruce can do is sigh into his hands.

“We’ll discuss this later-”

“Why didn’t you notice then old man?” Jason grins, a little feral at Bruce’s dirty look but sue him.

“Okay okay, let’s hurry up and get this place cleaned up. There’s no telling how far Danny got- and the sooner we go after him the sooner we figure out what’s going on.” Dick said, quickly gathering his own plate. 

“And the sooner I can get all of you presents.” The entire family stops. Staring at Jason in shock. “Only the finest ‘World’s best detective’ mugs for all of you!” 

The groan he gets from all of them is perfect.

-

“I cannot believe you didn’t think to tell me either!” Batman scolds Oracle later. 

Everyone is out in force. Even Batwoman, Batwing, and Bluebird (after having a good laugh at Batman’s expense) had joined. They had all been searching for Danny the better part of the day. Batman had even agreed to let Red Robin and Robin join the search and skip school. That’s how seriously the kids knew he was taking this. And how important it was for one of them to get to Danny before Batman scared him off for good with his infamous paranoia.

“If you didn’t notice, that one’s on you Batman.” God Jason really loved Barbara sometimes. 

“Oracle would not have allowed a dangerous individual into our midst. She is thorough when it comes to such things.” Robin is moving fast, probably swinging right behind Batman. No doubt headed east where the nicer areas were and any sane person was bound to head.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, baby bat.”

“O, you wouldn’t happen to have a new update on Danny’s whereabouts would you? Or anything from his past?” Nightwing cuts in after Robin’s little ‘Tt’. He’s somewhere near the border to Bludhaven, in case Danny’s making it out that way.

“Nothing Nightwing.” They can hear her frustration, and concern, through the voice modulator. “The kid’s practically a ghost. All I can tell you is that he’s not from Gotham. What little I can find of his time here in Gotham is some security feeds of dumpster diving and sleeping on a bench.”

“He’s also definitely a meta.” Signal mutters, somewhere to the west and near the coast..

Jason remains quiet and lets them all talk. As funny as it is- and holy shit Jason will never let any of them live this down ever- it is a little strange this random kid would just... Show up out of nowhere. Meta or not. Alfred said he wouldn’t sleep in a bed of his own, but he also hadn’t left until after Jason questioned his existence. This ‘Danny’ had been around the manor, the bats coming and going, for weeks. He could’ve found out their secrets, and even if he hadn’t sold them out yet, there’s no telling who might pick him up and drag those secrets out of him. Or worse, if he was sent here by someone, then they needed to find out who. And fast…

….

Ugh. He sounded like Batman.

“Hey guys, how well do you even know Danny?” Jason pulls over near an abandoned apartment building. Cutting the engine to his bike to hear them all better. “He was there for a few weeks, pick up anything on him? Might help us figure out where he ran off to.” That last bit was added as an afterthought, not wanting to be too paranoid, but it was also true.

“I know how this is going to sound, but uh, well, he does seem really nice actually.” Signal helpfully offers. “Dick and I ran into Danny I think not long after he got there?”

“O’s camera feed tells us Danny arrived at the manor 28 days ago, Thursday night 11:38 PM. Looking at the records, he was picked up prior to that in front of Wayne Enterprises by one of our drivers- Archer Tenson. He’s reliable and honest, no record of any sort that would make him a suspect of subterfuge.” Nightwing rattles off the information pretty calmly, but they all know him well enough to hear the concern. “According to the records, he was going to pick up the caffeine addict after the cafe got an alert of his fourth Death Latte-” They all ignored Red Robin’s little ‘hey!’, “-and dropped him off safely at home.”

“Red Robin.” Batman’s parental disapproval was palpable through the comms. 

“There wasn’t a fourth Death Latte!” Red Robin protested from his place in the batcave. Aiding in the digital search and combing over the camera feeds over the past few weeks for any information about Danny. “The third Death Latte was the last one. An Alert at W.E. was the plan the whole night. Nobody made it back to the manor until sunrise and the cafe kept saying there wasn’t any more coffee and-!” He gasped, horrified! Outraged! And the rest were left to hold their snickers as Red Robin said, “He stole my last coffee!”

“That’s right, Danny said he was a caffeine addict too.” Batwing mused. Probably flying somewhere over the more open suburbia in case Danny was trying to make a break out of the city that way.

“Wait when did you meet Danny?” Spoiler asked- Jason knew she was patrolling nearby with Bluebird. Those two, Orphan and Signal were the only ones who were allowed to come close to Crime Alley. Mainly because they annoyed Jason the least, but also because they understood how bad the streets could get and looked the other way better than the others. Signal surprised him about that one.

“Start from the beginning.” Batman orders. “Nightwing, Signal, you met Danny when?”

“Looking back, it was actually the day after he got there it sounds like.” Signal sighs. “I was headed downstairs for breakfast, and saw Dick in one of the sitting rooms. I thought I saw our caffeine addict passed out on the couch and thought dick was going to wake him, so I went in to help…”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Tender Loving Care

pairing: Aemond x Reader

summary: after a training accident, Aemond's wife takes care of him. In more ways than one.

tags: heterosexual sex, cowgirl, massage, hand job, cum eating, cranky Aemond is a good boy for his wife, mentions of the other members of the Green but not present.

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

Training accidents were as common as breathing if one wanted to master the sword.

If one wanted to hold a blade, then one must also be prepared to suffer its bite. Aemond was well aware of this. Even though it was just training, play fighting for the knights & instructors brought in from all over Westeros to teach the prince, he had been cut before. Nothing serious. Nothing like his eye. He wishes it had been. It would make this latest injury less wounding than the others.

A simple misstep, that was all. His own clumsiness was what put him in this bed. His leg wasn’t broken or maimed, but twisted in his fall, to the point that he could put no weight on it. Or at least that was what the maesters said.

2 weeks. That was the punishment for his own mistake. He was not to leave this bed save to relieve himself and the few moments a day he was granted to stand & test his legs progress. Each day was a new torment. Not for the pain, Aemond could handle that, but the failure of trying his leg and only have it betray him again & again. He wondered how his father did it all those years trapped in his bed. Aemond would have begged for death sooner.

“Husband,” the prince looked up from his window and thoughts of limping over to throw himself out of it, when his wife’s voice came into the room.

One of his few constant visitors during his confinement. Helaena came to visit him but was busy with her children. Aegon only came once, to taunt him about his trip more than anything before he left and a back handed ‘get better Aemond the Fierce!’. His mother came as well but flapped between concern and scolding for his ‘recklessness’. She was the only one who seemed genuinely concerned for him, though her concern was not needed. Aemond did not wish to feel more like an invalid than he already did. “What is it?”

“It is time to change the bandage on her leg.” To keep it straight. To keep him bound, he thought with a spat, although Aemond arched a brow at the comment.

“Where is the maester?” His wife was many things, but she was no practitioner of medicine nor magic.

She sighed. “Did you really expect them to come back willingly after last time?” Aemond pursed his lips.

Under the best of circumstances, Aemond was aware that he was not the most agreeable person in the realm. Could anyone really blame him? His existence had taught him over & over that it was better to lash out and cut first, lest you be the one who is sliced. Metaphorically, of course. He wasn’t a mad man like some of his ancestors. And attached to this bed the only weapon at his disposal was his words. He had cursed, jeered, and ranted, honestly uncharacteristic of himself, at the maester who had attended to his leg the day before and had the nerve to tell him his progress was splendid. If it was so splendid then why was he still in this bed? If he was such a great man of knowledge and skill, why hadn’t he healed him yet?! He should go back to whatever dung heap he crawled out of and beg alms for to the gods for wasting a fine Citadel education on an incompetent!!

The prince said a few more unkind things before he forbade any of them from touching him again. He did not think they would take him seriously.

“So, they sent you to do the work of a common barrio healer since they do not wish to do their jobs?”

“I think it was more that they thought you wouldn’t scratch at me. More fool they then, hn?”

Aemond sunk further into his pillows, sulking. He doesn’t mean to scratch at her. He doesn’t mean to scratch at any of them, honestly. He just wanted to get out of his bed and go on with his life. To have the world move on around him, to grow weak and irrelevant in this bed, was the real punishment. “I’m sorry.” He apologized. “…thank you…for helping me…”

“You’re welcome Aemond.”

How quick she was to accept his apology. How quick she was to help him, already coming to his side despite his scratching, when he needed her. No wonder he was always alone….

The prince did what he could for her as he raised his leg from the pillow propping it up and held it there while she unwrapped the old dressing. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” It was not meant as a slight. Just a genuine curiosity on if she knew the proper way to wrap his injury.

His wife just chuckled. “Yes, Aemond. Despite not wanting to come in here on their own, the maesters did instruct me on how to do it properly.” Cowards, he thought. “There! All done.”

Aemond looked at his leg with his good eye and tried to flex at his foot. His nostrils flared at the persistent pain, but it was wrapped correctly. He was impressed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I want you healed as soon as possible as well.” Her hand reached for his on the bed and clasped it. “In fact…I was told of another treatment….one that might help with the…circulation in your leg.”

“Oh?” Aemond was curious about that. Trapped in this bed, his legs were not getting the work out that they normally would. Training aside, the walk around the castle was enough exercise for most lords. He hadn’t been able to go more than a few steps for days. His legs teetered between weightlessness and the sharp pricks of falling asleep all the time. “Will it improve my condition?”

“It….could…” She seemed unconvinced. Avoiding, even. But perhaps that was because the last person who made remarks about the improvement of his condition was threatened to be fed to Vhagar. “Will you let me try it?”

What was there to lose, he thought, and Aemond nodded before he helped her take off his lower bed linens so both his legs were bare. A small vial appeared out from her pocket, and she poured some of its contents onto her hands before rubbing them together and placing them on his leg. “Just…try to relax for me.”

A hefty ask, but he does try. All he could do recently was ‘try to relax’. ‘Rest, my prince’, ‘you need time to heal’. It was all he had heard for the past days, to the point that any word close to ‘relax’ had almost the opposite effect on him. But for her, he does try. For her it worked a little. His shoulders finally untensing. Looking at her in the candlelight. Soft feelings swelling at the touch of her soft hands. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” He answered, almost without thinking. It did feel good. He didn’t realize how stiff his leg was until this moment.

Aemond let out a deep exhale. Not really a sigh, just the release of all the air in his lungs and tension built in his body. His eye closed as he laid back and let his wife work. They aren’t strong, but persistent. He continued to enjoy until he felt her hands shift up higher. Up his calf where his injury was to above his knee. “What are you doing?”

“What??” Her shocked face was particularly adorable in the soft light. Wide, wild eyes. Body frozen save for a soft tremble in her shoulders. “I..I’m rubbing your leg. I told you.”

“My injury is not there though.” He told her logically. Gaze still fixed on her for any kind of reveal.

“I…I know…” Her hands shift to seem to want to move away from him, but she willed them to stay still. “I just thought…maybe there was some other tension I could help you with….”

It was Aemond’s turn to be shocked, but he doesn’t show it on his face like she does. His wife was a lady. A demure, kind, noble one at that. Though she wasn’t nearly as boring & cow eyed as the other noble ladies on offer to him at the time of his betrothal, or so Aemond assumed as he didn’t pay much attention to any of them, boldness like this was not heard of in their marriage. She never denied him. Seemed fond of when they were together; or at least made all the right noises like she did. But it was always he who initiated such acts in their bedroom. To see her offer, and on offer, as he finally took in her appearance and the thin robe she had come to him in, Aemond would not deny that it was quite arousing.

Without another word, Aemond parted his legs further to give her room. If this was her intention, he would not deny her. There was a flush on her cheeks that bleed down her neck towards the V of her robe when he did this. Her resolve seeming to waiver, and disappointment started to drip into his chest at the prospect he may have ruined this too with his terrible attitude, but she continued.

The prince sighed. Gladdened to feel her hands on him again and closed his eye with a newfound desire for his treatment, now that he knew what was going on. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Her coquettish tone was a tonic to his ears. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying touching him and playing with him. His cock jumped as it filled fuller. More aroused by the fact that his wife truly did want him than her hands close, but not close enough, to his member. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Aemond opened his eye and genuinely growled at his wife. Though this game was amusing, enticing, it had been days since he’d found release. Being stuck in this bed did not really spur a person on towards desire. And though she laid with him at night like a good wife she had been spared from her ‘wifely duties’ for some time as Aemond was either still in too much pain from his leg, or unable to move it to perform the act, or in too bad of a mood to make the effort. Having her close. Feeling her touch. It was like the flood gates opened on a dam he had long since locked up and threw away the key on. “Please….”

His kind, noble, demure wife took pity on him, and also took his cock in her hand. Aemond’s head tilted back as he moaned. Her soft hands stroking his member from under his night shirt slowly, deliberately. She had touched him before, so she knew how he liked it, but honestly she could have touched him anyway she liked. Like a clumsy novice that first night they were together, and he still would have melted in her hands.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” Again, without thought. But headier this time. More needy. He opened his eye to look upon his wife and found her staring at him. Those bright eyes darkened with desire. He’d never seen it before; mostly because when they were together her face was either buried in his chest, or shoulder, or in the pillows. Aemond bit his bottom lip hard. Trying not to cum at just the sight of her.

“It’s ok.” She told him in a whisper. Like it was a secret between the two of them. “You can let go husband. Will you let go for me?”

It was the softest command that Aemond had ever heard, and yet it forced him to obey more than any other. His back pressed further back into the pillows as his head tilted back again. His cock spasming in her hand as his seed leapt out from the tip. Covering her hand and perhaps getting some on her pretty robe by her knee. He would have to get her another one.

He opened his eye again after coming down from his high. Just in time to see her lick his seed off the palm of her hand. “What are you doing?”

“Well, the royal seed is sacred, is it not?” Her grin was soft, but mischievous. “We should not waste it.”

Aemond’s hand darted out to grab hold of her arm and drag her down to him in a deep, needy kiss. Apparently the flood gates he thought were released earlier were in truth just a leak in the levees. This was when the dam broke now. The need he had for her burning so hot that he could almost taste blood at the back of his tongue, his blood was boiling so hot.

He tried to spread his legs wider to make more room for his wife, but when he moved, he was reminded (painfully) of his injury. “Damnit!” The prince hissed against his wife’s lips. The throbbing in his leg almost in tandem with his cock.

“Sssh…it’s ok Aemond.” He wanted to bite at her soft words.

It was not ok! None of this was ok! He was injured, in pain, stuck in this bed, and now he couldn’t even fuck his wife! He felt useless. He felt angry. He felt humiliated not being able to do things as a man should, and he just wanted to get back to normal!

Before he could tell her any of this, however, his wife pulled back and removed her robe from her body. Mesmerizing in the fire light. No Valyrian alabaster, but still just as dazzling to Aemond. Shift discarded, his wife raised her hips and inched closer to hover them over his own. “The maester said not to move unless absolutely necessarily.” He wanted to argue that laying with his wife was absolutely necessarily, particularly in this moment, but all his words left him on a moan as she lowered herself onto him. “So you just stay there. L-Let me take care of you.” The little stammer in her voice as she started rolling her hips almost sent Aemond into a frenzy, but he endured.

He genuinely couldn’t move with her on top of him like this and his position on the bed. Though why would be want to? For the first time since his accident, Aemond was actually ecstatic to be stuck here in this bed. His wife lovingly impaling herself on his member. Riding him with skill just short of a dragon rider. If he had the wits still about him, he would have chuckled at his own joke. ‘Dragon rider’. As it was though he was stupid with lust. Dumb, witless, helpless at her mercy as she took from him everything and gave him back so much. He still had brains at least to return the favor.

His wife cried out when he reached up to cup her breast. The weight of them in his hands something he missed. Aemond does not get a lot of time to enjoy them, however, as his wife suddenly fell forward. Covering his body with her own. Hips still moving but at a much snappier pace with the depleted gap between them. He didn’t care though. His hands just repositioned themselves on her other mounds at her backside and pressed her to move faster.

“A-Aemond!” Her cries were his music. The tempo in which he set a new rhythm.

The wet sound of their sexes kissing along with their actual kissing fill the room, until it all stopped in one bright, shining moment of his wife shaking on top of him while her fists tried to fight his pillows and he spilled inside her this time.

He wished he could hold her like this for longer. Her weight a comfort, like a blanket, in his arms. But she rolled over onto his non-injured side to lay beside him. It was good enough. “Do you feel better now?”

Aemond looked down at her, having to turn his head completely as to not just look at her with the sapphire in his eye, realizing at last what this was about. Her idea of a good will effort. To lift his spirits and relieve his tension. Maybe keep him from trying to execute more of the maesters in the castle. “Yes. I’m feeling better.”

She smiled, then placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Good.”

The fingers from the hand around her own shoulders played with her hair as he stared at the ceiling. “Was this all just for me though?”

His wife looked at him with a perplexed look, but then realized what he was asking and blushed. She was smart enough to figure it out. “Not…all of it. I did want you to be in better spirits but…I have missed you.”

The corner of Aemond’s lips ticked up. Pleased, and pleased with himself. He did not think his sexual prowess was worth much compared to his prowess with a sword or strategy. But to hear that his wife wanted him, truly wanted him, was all the praise he would ever need. “So, you came up with this idea to satisfy both of us, ābrazyrys.”

“It wasn’t….all my idea…” Aemond arched a brow at his wife’s words. Curious now where she had got the idea from, as it had clearly come from somewhere. “Aegon commented on your bad mood and how someone should ‘cheer you up’. He gave me the idea, but the rest of it was all my doing.”

Aemond wasn’t sure which comment he was more shocked about. The fact that his brother knew how he was faring in his recovery, or the fact that he made lewd comments to his wife. He was battering between feelings of an odd sense of touched and white hot furry, but he decided to just let it go for now and enjoy his wife. “Well, thank you, regardless. In future I will try not to scratch at you while I am still confined to this bed. Lest you ask.”

She giggled when he kissed the top of her forehead. “And the maesters?”

“They are on their own.” Idiots. “I make no promises on their safety, but I will…endeavor to be of better character in the future.” At least not threaten to feed them to Vhagar. That seemed a reasonable adjustment.

[muslimintp-1999-girl]

But nothing can beat having a room all to yourself and not having to share it with anyone else. I wish people would believe only children when we say we're fine as we are and not impose their own ideas on what we are saying.

when I found out my friends have no siblings I always ask isn’t that kind of lonely??? And they are always like idk not really and yeah u can’t miss what you’ve never known I guess but some nights me and my little sister will stay up late even though we both have class tomorrow and we will listen to fast car by Tracy chapman on repeat no talking just us quietly listening and I think that even if I never knew my sister I would still miss her somehow

[triptuckers]

kissing it better - logan howlett

Request: nope Pairing:  logan howlett x reader Summary:  based on this post by @sarahsmi13s Warnings:  nothing but tooth rotting fluff ugh I love logan Word count:  1K A/N: this post… yes.. also logan deserves some soft love <3 enjoy!

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slow, domestic mornings with logan are few and far in between. it’s why you cherish every one you get.

life in the mansion is hectic, to say the least. even if you would take away everyone’s mutant abilities, there’s still a couple of dozen kids with a lot of energy swarming the place.

but you wouldn’t have it any other way. you’d been one of those kids once. unsure of your place in the world, scared, not knowing who you could trust. 

like many young mutants, you caused chaos and pain when your mutation manifested. your own parents were afraid of you. and then the professor showed up at your house and told you about his school. 

you’ve spent many years here now, teaching the children while also being a member of the x-men. you finally have a place where you belong, where you feel safe and at home. where you have friends and family who care about you.

meeting logan was only the cherry on top.

from the moment you met him, you’d been curious about him. one day you were teaching your class as usual, the next moment there was a guy with anger issues and adamantium claws in your classroom. 

at first you were stunned, as were the students, but you introduced yourself and told him to take a seat once he explained the professor thought it was a good idea for him to know what life at the mansion would be like.

ever since, he’s been sitting in on a lot of your classes. you thought it was because he was interested in the topics, but later on he confided in you that your voice and presence soothe him. 

after that conversation, logan was around you often. to learn about the mansion, he said, but you knew better.

the more time you spent with him, it became obvious he came to you when he needed to calm down. he didn’t need you to talk to him, just needed to be near you.

sometimes you would talk. it was mostly you who did the talking, though. you told him about your childhood, how you met the professor, your time at the mansion as a kid, teasing scott about jean when you were a teenager. and then you told him about the missions you went on with your fellow x-men, the classes you taught the children, how they continued to surprise you every day.

and slowly, as logan started to trust you more, he told you about his life. what it was like years ago, what he went through. you wanted logan to open up to you on his own, but you couldn’t deny you were curious about him and his life. sometimes you couldn’t help it. 

you were cradling one of his hands, taking a closer look at his knuckles as you sat on the edge of your desk. the classroom was empty, the students long gone. but logan was still there

you feel logan’s gaze on you, but you continue to study his hand. turning his hand over in yours, examining it.

‘you really can just get them out whenever you want?’ you ask him.

‘yeah.’ says logan.

‘can I see them?’

logan briefly hesitates. no one’s ever asked him that. most people who have seen his claws up close didn’t live to tell the story. but you’re being so gentle with him, he does as you ask.

you drop your hands as he pulls his arm away slightly. then he slowly lets his claws come out. you watch as the skin between his knuckles splits as the adamantium blades slice through. 

you briefly look up to logan and notice how he clenches his jaw slightly. 

‘does it hurt?’ you ask him. ‘when they come out?’

logan looks down at you. at this fellow x-men, a teacher, a lover. no one has ever been this patient and gentle and loving with him.

‘every time.’ he says, looking at the way you’re holding his hand.

it had been a long time since logan had slept in his own room. what few belongings he had, he added to your room. but because the mansion life was a busy life, you rarely get to enjoy each other’s presence like this.

logan is still asleep. his breath tickles the back of your neck. one of his arms is lazily swung over your body, the other beneath your head. you love waking up like this, safe in his embrace.

you reach out and softly run your fingers over his knuckles. it’s remarkable how fast his skin heals. 

your touch wakes logan, who stirs behind you. now that he’s awake, you turn around in his arms so you can bury your face in his neck. logan pulls you closer, wanting to go back to sleep.

he feels how you take a hold of his hand and move it. then he feels something on his knuckles. he opens his eyes and sees you pressing soft kisses to the skin between his knuckles, right where the tips of his claws rest beneath his skin.

logan has never been the romantic type. but he swears he feels his heart burst with the amount of love he feels for you. you’ve kissed him before, obviously. but not like this, not on his knuckles.

‘what are you doing?’ he asks, voice still laced with sleep. 

you briefly look up at him before you move to get a hold of his other hand, bringing it up to your lips.

‘you said it hurts every time they come out.’ you explain. ‘I’m kissing it better.’

logan’s lips part in surprise, before smiling at you. 

‘you’re gonna do this every time they come out?’ he says.

you nod. ‘yes. you said it hurts every time. so I’ll kiss it better every time.’

‘you’ll be busy for the rest of your life, then.’

‘that’s okay. I don’t plan on going anywhere.’ 

logan leans in and presses a soft kiss against your lips. with his forehead against yours, he drifts off to sleep again. feeling the occasional kiss against his knuckles. 

A/N: thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

[secretsandwriting]

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that. 

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama. 

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you. 

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were. 

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death. 

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow. 

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone. 

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed. 

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders. 

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back. 

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger. 

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections. 

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there. 

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him. 

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating. 

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.” 

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would. 

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself. 

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once. 

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited. 

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting. 

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!” 

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores. 

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving. 

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird. 

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was. 

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind. 

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning. 

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it. 

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped. 

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last. 

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe. 

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you. 

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to. 

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough. 

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence. 

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear. 

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that. 

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky. 

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you. 

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.” 

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were. 

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it. 

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable. 

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left. 

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had. 

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother. 

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too. 

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her. 

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size. 

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much. 

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.

[bittersw33t-lotus]

Surprise

Ghosting pt. 1

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Cw: swearing, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of abortion, angst, arguments, abandonment, younger Simon, story takes place when he’s 25 and you’re 23.

Part 2 here

“kids?”

“What about them?”

“Would you ever want any?”

It was yours and Simon your one year anniversary. It was nothing special, just some takeout and card games with a movie playing in the back. You don’t know how the conversation of your futures came to be but you both knew it had to be said at some point in your relationship. You asked what Simon planned to do once he got older and retired from the military. He asked you questions about your plans as you grew older. That’s when you decided to be the one to bring up the very question that tends to either strain or strengthen a relation, children.

“No. Hard pass. I don’t do well with them nor do I want any of my own.” He never meant to say it with such a rude tone but It didn’t bother you much. You knew that there was a deeper reason why with the way his brows furrowed and the tension in the shoulders. You wanted him to elaborate more but you decided against it.

“Yeah I’m not too keen on children. At least right now anyways.” You said placing down your card on the table as Simon continued to examine his cards to find a way to defeat you. He looked at you as you spoke your last words as you kept your eyes on your cards. You liked kids to a certain extent and wouldn’t mind one later on in your life as you settle down or just none at all. You tried not to let Simons words get to you, since you don’t mind a childless life, as long as you had Simon by your side, but sometimes there would be days where you felt lonely without Simon when he’s deployed to his job. There’s also days where you fear he’ll never come back home and you’d be left with nothing to remember him by but memories, pictures and his possessions. A kid would be something that not only would be a piece of him that breathes and moves but they would be the physical embodiment of yours and Simons’ love, something that would keep you two tied to each other.

As nice as a child with Simon would be, you respected his wishes and you would have to come to terms with it. It’ll just be you and Simon, growing old together in a little house on the far side of town where no one can bother you and it’ll just be you, your grumpy (eventual) husband and your animals to keep you company. Yeah, you could live with that.

Hopefully, if he doesn’t die on the job…

“It’ll just be the two of us and a bunch of animals.”

That’s how you’d thought it be. Until it wasn’t.

You sat there on your bed holding the white stick in your hand. The pink plus sign was burning your eyes. You could feel your stomach churning. What the hell were you gonna do? You were panicking. You had been throwing up the past few days, Simon suggested you’d go see a doctor worried you ate something bad or caught some stomach bug but you refused and said you’d be fine thinking it go away within a few days however more things surfaced on your body that caught your attention. You breast grew a cup bigger and felt sore as hell, you assumed it was due to your period, it was due to arrive in a week anyway but you still found it abnormal that your breast swelled up so much. When the week passed you figured it was delayed due to your little stomach bug but another week passed. That’s when the thoughts hit you. You couldn’t be right? There’s no way you could be pregnant. You and Simon were always careful.

That same day of realization you went to the drug store just to be sure. You brought three sticks and each one came out with the same pink plus sign appearing on the little box. What the hell were you gonna do? How were you going to tell Simon? Maybe you don’t. You can just get an abortion and get it over with. Well, maybe it’s best if you tell him either way. But the more you thought about the baby, the more harder it seemed for you to think about getting rid of it.

You never really made your decision on not having kids, you figured that when it happens it happens, but what about now? Simon doesn’t want a baby, but you’re pregnant with the child you created with the love of your life, Yours and Simons baby…

Tears prick your eyes as you stared at the stick. What are you going to do?

Simon was out drinking with his ‘comrades’ so you had some time to yourself before he came back. You needed to plan a time when you’d tell him. But you were beyond terrified. You know having this baby was putting your relationship with Simon at risk. But this was just as much of his doing as yours, but at the same time, your IUD should’ve prevented this from happening.

You tired to gain the courage in the past couple days since you’ve found out, to tell him but you never could. For days Simon could tell something was bothering you, and it wasn’t the sickness you had. It was something that was clouding your mind. He could see in your eyes that something was troubling you.

Simon had just returned to home from the bar, feeling dreadful about having to be deployed once again here in a couple of days, he doesn’t want to leave you. He hates it, he hated leaving you here all alone, he can’t be there to protect you, hold you and love you but his job makes it worth it if it means you get everything you deserve. Even if he isn’t around for long periods at a time.

As he walks into the house you greet him with a smile, he’s a little tipsy but just barely since he still had to drive home, he did enjoy his time with Price, Soap and Gaz though. Even if he didn’t outright admit it.

“How’d it go?” You asked him as you approach him with a small smile. You’re too nervous to give him his usual greeting kiss which made Simon’s suspicions of your worry confirmed.

“It was fine, not too shabby and the boys were okay as usual. I need to ask you something.” He said glancing your direction aa he looks into your eyes like he’s trying to read your mind, he cups your face gently as he approached you. He saw your body tense up, you tried to save yourself by quickly relaxing before Simon could see but it was too late, he already did. That was his que. “There’s something bothering you, I can see it. You know you can’t hide things from me and I understand you don’t wanna talk about it but at least let me help you the way you help me.”

Your throat grew dry, ‘Shit.’ You thought. You could feel your anxiety flow through your nerves as your hand began to tremble slightly. Your silence worried Simon. “Yn…” He called out but you stood silent.

‘It’s now or never, i can’t hide this forever, not when I start to show.” You thought, Simons hand gently rubbed your cheekbones which brought your attention back to him. Your teary gaze met his concerned ones. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry…” You quivered out. You tried to keep your composure but the hormones betrayed your body. “For what? What happened love?” He grew more worried as the tears rolled down your face. He wiped them away with his fingers as he cradled your face, as you both stare into the others gaze. “You promise you won’t be mad, I’m scared you’re gonna hate me, leave me and…” You whisper but Simon cuts you off as he leaned down to take your lips into a soft but passionate kiss, pulling away you look at him such vulnerability as you wrap your hands around Simons wrist gently. “I won’t.” He whispers back to you, his eyes filled with concern and love in his eyes. It makes your heart break thinking about what can happen next.

Your breath hitched before you inhaled and closed your eyes leaning into Simons touch. “I’m pregnant…” it was silent for a hot second. You felt his hands stiffen up but quickly relax as he looked a bit surprised. Your IUD should’ve been working, but he can’t blame you, there’s still a small chance.

“Have you made an appointment?” He asked after a long silence.

“For what?” You look up nervously, your guts telling you things were going downhill soon now, it’s too late you’ve already made up your mind.

“To get rid of it.” He asks you confused but something was telling him something else is going on. It was dead silence after that, you didn’t even need to say anything, the look in your eyes were enough to tell Simon what your intentions were. His hands were stiff it almost felt like a mannequins hands were placed on your face but then they were quickly snatched away from your grasp and face. You gasped lightly at the action. He took two long strides away from you, his eyes were slightly wide and had a blank look in them as he stared at you.

You wanted to call out to him but his eyes alone were enough to tell you that he was about to run. Your heart throbbed and your stomach began to churn again. More tears began to flow and obscure your vision. “Simon…” You called out to him, you refrained from walking towards him, terrified that one wrong move and he’d run and leave you in the dust. But it seemed to trigger him.

His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes began to show frustration. “No.” He shook his head as you sobbed. “Dammit yn I thought we established this. You promised!” He began to raise his voice, his fear coming to light. Not only was your relationship beginning to strain but you were planning to bring a child into this world. His child. All he could think about was his father and his family something he doesn’t want to experience or risk history to repeat itself.

“I’m sorry Simon but I never made a promise! But I truly didn’t mean for this to happened but it did and when I thought about having an abortion I couldn’t bear that thought of it. I know what we had in mind was to not have any kids but I can’t bring myself to get rid of our baby.”

“No we agreed that we’d have no kids, for Christ sake, I’m always at base and deployed. I can die and leave you to raise a baby alone. And I’m not ready to care for a baby, nor did I ever plan on having one.” He didn’t yell but his voice sounded distant like he was guarded. Like how he used to be when you first met him back in high school, stiff as a stone with years and layers of built up walls around him to keep anybody out from his heart and mind, a troubled Simon who was haunted by his abusive father wanting to save his mother and brother the ones who are now six feet under. One that took you years to slowly tear down and let him trust you with more than one few but big bumble in the road but in the end you never gave up on him and always stuck by his side. “I can’t do this.” He didn’t sound like your Simon anymore. He sounded like Ghost now. The Ghost he separated you from, the Ghost that was cold hearted and never cared about anything or anyone else but getting his priorities done and missions finished.

Your breath hitched. “What do you mean?” Your voice quivered. Ghost didn’t even bother to answer you he made his way to the bedroom. “Simon please!” You treaded after him, your anxiety surfacing again.

You walked into the bedroom to see him reaching into the closet and pulling out his bag, already packed with all the gears and items he needed for his deployment. Slumping the strap over his shoulder as you watched made your throat tighten.

It was nothing but silence the whole time as you watched Simon pack away a last minute items he’d need. You watched as he began to tie on his boots. “You’re right,” you finally spoke. Your voice soft as you tried not to let out a sob. “You don’t have to do this, you can keep doing what you do. I’ll keep the baby without you.” Simon just sat there listening to you as he kept his gaze glued to the ground. You couldn’t see what he was thinking with his Balaclava on now but you could see his fists clenched tightly. “I won’t make you go through this but just know, I still love you Simon, but I want this baby. You won’t hear from me asking you for anything at all. Just know once you walk out that door. I’ll be gone, unless you say something Simon...” you stand there staring at him hoping he’ll say something… anything. A sliver of wanting to be around at least or try to work something out but you know it’ll never come. He’s Simon, Ghost, he’s not, and may never be, mentally prepared nor does he have a lifestyle fit enough to raise a baby. Without a single noise Simon gets up and walks past you to the bedroom door, you watch his back, he doesn’t spare you a single glance before he walks out without another word.

After a few seconds, you hear his boots stomp down the stairs, the door opening and slamming shut. Your que to finally let all your sobbing out easing the pain in your throat. You sat on the floor holding your stomach. You were really on your own now. Just you and your baby.

You were lucky you managed to gain contact with your older sister, Stacy, she and her husband had welcomed you into their home with no hesitation, surprisingly. Granted you and your sister had some mending to do but it was mostly cause by your parents. Your mother had always founds way to turn you and your sister against one another when you two were younger. You both always fought and tried to better the other for praise of your mother she’d always compared one over the other, “Your sister is skinner than you,” “You eat like a pig, your sister eats better than you,” “your sister this” or “your sister that”. You mother always tried to make you two compete against the other that both physically and mentally damaged you both.

Your father never bothered with you two, you could never talk to him without every conversation ending in a some form of abuse or never in the right mindset being constantly high off his mind with drugs. But as you grew older you began to see the things your mother did to you and your sister but you never took the chance to make amends, your sister met her then boyfriend and ran away with him the first chance she got, you did the same when you met Simon.

“Are you alright?” She approaches you as you got out the car. The moment you came face to face with her you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and brushed into tears. “I’m sorry!” You cried out. “It’s okay.” She hushes you and cradled your head. “No it’s not, I should’ve talked to you, we should’ve made up long ago but I ran off…”

“And so did I!” She cut you off. “I was the one that ran off first, I was the one who left you in the dust for some guy that turned out to be a fraud. I chose a man over my own sister but I was too dumb to see it. We both made mistakes but now that we’re here, let’s take this chance to make it right.” She wiped your tears from your face. “Now tell me what wrong?” She asks you as you take a deep breath. “Simon left me.” You say, your sisters eyes widen in surprise and sympathy. “Well technically I left but we decided that we were through.”

“Why, what happened?” She asks you as she began to guide you to her house. As you make your way in you wipe your eyes as you think about the memory.

“I’m pregnant.” You start off, your sister is caught off guard and stunned, but she doesn’t speak and allows you to continue. “I found out not too long ago.”

You sister looks at you in shock. “Is that why… Simon…” she tries to ask, you know what she’s saying before you nod answering her question.

“Yeah, we’ve had the talk before. We agreed on no kids because he didn’t want any, me, I wasn’t too sure at the time but now, now I know, I do want this kid.” You say as you lay a hand on your stomach. “I don’t know what to do know. I told him and shit just went down hill. He made his choice and I made mine. I left home, he left because he’s currently on deployment but he’s made his choice not to be in the baby’s life. I gave him the choice to leave because I don’t want to force him into this since he never wanted any in the beginning.” You say, you sit on the soft couch as you both settled on conversing in the living room.

“He’s in the military?” She asks him a bit surprised, she’s still trying to process all this new information about your current situation and your now ex-boyfriend.

You nod your head and rub your eyes feeling the fatigue catch up to you from the past couple of days. You’ve nearly gotten a wink of sleep ever since Simon left, the past two days you were packing up all your things that you needed and wanted to take with you into your car, and you were stressing about where’d you go and be staying up until your Stacy, thankfully, responded back to you and offered you a place to stay at her house. “Yeah, he doesn’t tell me much about it. But from what I’ve seen every time he came back, it was always bad. He’d come home with bruises, sometimes wounds that sometimes looked to be fatal. It always scares me every time he goes, and I sometimes never know when he’ll be back, or if he’ll come back at all.” You explain to her. You leave out the part where he’d be a shell of himself, like a ghost possessing Simon, so unemotional, and you can never forget how scary it was seeing how empty his eyes looked sometimes.

Stacy looks at you, she’s processing all this and trying to her best to listen but she can tell that’s it’s a lot for her to take in. You don’t blame her, you two haven’t seen each other er for over five years, so there’s a lot of catching up to do. “I promise you I’ll only be here for a few months. I’ll find a place to stay for the baby and I before they’re born, we’ll be out of your hair soon.” You tell her quickly trying to reassure her that it’s only temporary and you’re not going to take advantage of your sister’s kindness and willing to help you out, you don’t wanna have the burden of having her worry about you and have a baby in the house. You’ve already become enough of a burden for Simon with the baby.

Stacy shakes her head and gently takes your hand and gently squeezes it. “Don’t worry about it. Take as much time as you need to get back on your feet. You got a kid to worry about now. And granted, it may be hard but I believe in you. You’re a strong woman, I know you can get through this, you always do. And even if you don’t, I’ll always be here to help you.” She says as she smiles at you fondly.

You feel so grateful for her. Your hormones have you all over the place both emotionally and physically. You’re on the verge of tears as you engulf Stacy into a hug once again. “Thanks Stac.” You say, your voice threatening to crack into a sob.

Stacy smiles at you and hugs you back. “Don’t thank me, you’re my little sister, family looks out for one another. Real family.”

꧁——————————꧂

Im debating if this series should have a twist to it. So stay tuned :)

[lokischocolatefountain]

home in three days, do not wash

Fandom: Gladiator II Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Wife!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: age gap, mild choking, mentions of child death, hurt comfort, breeding kink, lactation, reader has children, taboo for the time oral sex, talk of war. Word count: 3.6k words Summary: Your General returns home ravenous for you and you cannot decline him, even if any exposure of his act would bring him great shame. A/N: Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the awesome graphics. Napoleon said 'be home in three days, do not wash' and what was I supposed to do? Not use it for our big thicc roman general returning home from war to fuck us? I did research and shit and came to know that eating pussy was a big no no back in the day. dj Khaled would love to be an ancient roman ig. also learned that rich ladies didn't breastfeed and used a wet nurse but they knew that breastfeeding could help and some women did it. Outside all that research, it's just depravity, baby. Anyway, validate my depravity with some comments pls.

Laughter echoed through the hallways of your palatial home and you stood at a balcony with the best view from atop the hill. The campaign that had taken your husband away had finally come to an end with victory for Rome. Far from the hustle and bustle of the city, you were always one of the last people to receive the latest news of importance. This time was an exception to the rule. 

Home in three days. Do not wash.

All you wanted when you received the message was to run in the direction of the roads that would bring your beloved home. Three days were too long. You wanted to curtail the long wait, run to him so you would be in one another’s arms in a day and a half. 

But you chose the more realistic path and prepared the home for his arrival. The servants polished every surface, your handmaiden ensured you had all your most preferred clothing— that which he loved to see on your body. The kitchen was busy preparing every meal that the master loved. Your two older children with your general busied themselves recollecting everything they learned from their private tutor to impress their father. 

Your youngest, your first son, was still so young he had never met his father. He was the child your dearest had longed to have for so long. For all the luck the gods had given him in the battlefield, they had given very little in the way of children to carry his legacy. In his heart, he was father to seven daughters and six sons. The gods had only allowed four daughters to live. Two of his sons passed in infancy, one passed in birth, taking his mother with him. One other was taken by disease and another killed in battle. 

He now had only one son and he hadn’t yet the joy of holding him in his arms. Everyday that Marcus was in the battlefield was torture. Babe on your breast and fear in your heart over whether his father would live to see him. Fear sometimes subsided for anger to have its way. That very anger remained in your chest, prepared to unleash on him the moment he stepped into the home. 

When the sun dimmed, night crept in and so did Marcus. You refused to greet him at the door. A warm welcome was reserved for men who told their wives where they were going before they left. You had half a mind to ask for a bath to be prepared. To wash yourself with milk and fragrant oils in front of him so he could see your defiance in action. 

But you remained in the balcony, eyes set on the moon who served as your companion when he left you. For all the fury you had for him, there was also an ache of sympathy. You wouldn’t sour his mood the moment he entered. He must see his son first. Then you would see to that he groveled at your feet for his cruelty. 

Just as you thought, you had a long time to relax on the settee. He always went to his children first. Be it after months away on the battlefield or a mere day in the city. You asked for your son’s crib to be moved to your daughters’ room so he would be able to see them all at once, saving him the battle of choosing between his great loves. You’d sent word to him on the battlefield after you gave birth, sent him the name of his son so he would know to include him in his prayers. 

You heard whispers of his voice conversing with a servant. Your heart quickened its pace, each thud against your ribs matching the thuds of his feet against the floor. Oh how you wanted to turn around. It had been so long since your eyes were blessed with him. His towering height, broad frame, the pink of his lips and the curls you so loved to comb through with your fingers. You trembled, the cold breeze reminding you how devoid you’d been of his warmth. Yet you were resolved to not give yourself up to him so soon. You stayed in place and closed your eyes.

He stopped behind you and your name spilled from his lips like honey. It had been so long since anyone spoke your name so… The servants called you mistress and your children called you mother. Your birth family only wrote your name in their many letters. He was the only one who spoke your name, leaving you without hearing your own name since his departure. But you stayed, did not turn, did not open your eyes. He spoke it again, his voice gentle but louder as he stopped at your side. 

“Open your eyes, dearest.” 

“Where have you come, General?” You asked, your voice cold enough to be the envy of the winter breeze. 

“General?” He asked, a hint of amusement playing at his lips. 

“Are you not a General?” You taunted, finally opening your eyes. He looked weary from battle and travel. You longed to take him to your chambers and strip him of his armor to count his wounds, kiss each one be it new or old. His hair was grayer than when he left, his skin duller, but his eyes were still the soft brown that gave you peace when you first saw him as his young bride. 

“Your General,” he said with a small smile as though his words were supposed to make you forgive him at once and shower him with kisses. It only strengthened your resolve. If he wouldn’t treat you as a wife, you wouldn’t give him the respect of a husband. 

“You have a son,” you said, stretching your legs out in the settee just as he made to take his seat there. His hand wrapped around your ankle and you kicked it off, daring him to make another attempt at moving your legs so he could sit. He smiled softly, conceding as he moved to stand by your head. 

“He is beautiful, mellilla,” he said, caressing your cheek. You slapped his hand away. All of Rome may fall at his feet and welcome him back with praises of his victory. He was deserving of course, not only for his achievements but for his undying loyalty to Rome. If Rome were a woman, she would be his principal wife and you— you would only be a tavern whore he fucked and left in the dead of night. 

“You block the moonlight, General Acacius.” 

“Marcus,” he said, moving to allow you sight of the moon once again. He sat in the little remaining space on the settee and looked down at you. Despite the toll war had taken on him, he was incredibly handsome. Bold nose, pink lips and graying curls that only made him look ever so slightly more distinguished. He bent down and pressed a kiss to your lips. You did not return the kiss, but you did not push him away. There was an limit even to your anger. You placed a hand on his shoulder, the act of denying yourself the joy of your lover weighing heavy in your heart.

“I’m afraid I haven’t such an honor.” You bit down on your lip, annoyed at yourself for the trembling of your voice as you spoke. Your anger for him had a foundation of pain after all. 

His face fell and he sighed. He looked down at his lap and you hoped it was from shame.

“If you have nothing to say, you may leave. If you need it, you may summon the servants for your meal. But I am sure the emperor did not send his best general hungering for food or cunt,” you spat, rising to sit up on the settee. Hand as strong as iron wrapped around your wrist, coupling with his strong torso that trapped you in place to keep you from getting up. You squirmed in his grasp, but he did not budge.

“Listen to me.” 

“Is that an order?” 

He wrapped an arm around you and held your cheek in his hand. You looked up at him, giving him biting fury to his firm yet gentle gaze. “If it is the only way I will have your obedience, then yes. It is an order.” 

“You may speak, but you cannot make me listen and you most certainly cannot make me respond.” 

“I am your husband.” 

“A husband doesn’t leave for a year long war at the dead of night with no explanation to the woman swelling with his child,” you screamed, fist slamming against his chest. It didn’t affect Marcus. Nothing affected the great General Acacius, you thought with derision. You hit him in the chest again, tears brimming in your eyes and clouding your vision.

“Forgive me,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You ceased your attacks as his apology coupled with the pain in his eyes reduced you to tears. You’d kept everything in for so long, put on a brave face for your daughters and hid your heart in your letter to your father. It was only with Marcus that you didn’t need to hide. He always tore your fears down and pulled you into the safety of his arms.

“I wouldn’t have been able to leave had I said goodbye.” 

“I was so afraid,” you confessed, leaning into his chest. Every pretense of strength and composure left your body as you let him hold you to his chest. The gold earrings you wore to please his eyes pressed cold against your skin under his hand. He moved next to your hair and then you neck, the hand that held swords and spilled blood only to return home to love you. 

“Carissima…You were all I could think of after I left. Forgive me,” he begged, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to each finger. 

“Later. I have missed you. Marcus,” you whispered, craning your neck to kiss him. He returned your kiss in an instant, arms cradling you as you devoured each other. He smelled of war— blood, soil, sweat, and leather. It was far more pleasing to your senses than any fragrant oils and flowers. Your Marcus and his distinctly masculine scent was above all but the fragrance of your newborn. 

You whined as he retreated. He laughed and returned to scatter kisses along your jawline like Rome scattered rose petals along the steps of the Colosseum for his feet. He reached under your layers of silk and linen, making you tremble and press yourself closer to his chest. 

“So soft…” 

“I need you, please.” It was all he needed to hear before he walked up to the doors of the balcony and slammed them shut. What he did with you, for you, wasn’t for anyone else’s eyes but your own. 

He unlatched the gold clips that held your palla to your shoulders and set them aside. Your stola and tunic followed, piling up on the marble floor. Cold air caressed your bare breasts, bigger and fuller now as you nursed your son yourself. You traced your hand up his arm, feeling his vambrace before finding his muscular arms. You whimpered from just how big he was in your hands. You squeezed, feeling the hard muscle and rough skin. 

Your General knelt before you and you sat up straight, confused by his action. He couldn’t be… You sought his apologies and regret, but by no means would you ask him to humiliate himself for you. Such a man, superior to you in every way. 

“Dominus!” You shrieked, reminding him who he was even when he came home. 

“Shh…” 

“Are you going to—?”

“Lick you cunt? Yes. Sit back, now,” he said as he guided you to lean back on the settee. You shook your head from side to side, appalled by the circumstances and confused as to how you were supposed to stop him. He spread your legs wide, planting your feet upon the seat. He licked his plush lips and looked up at you, his eyes those of a ravenous beast. 

“You cannot. I only want you to understand the torture you put me through, not debase yourself in front of me. It’s not right.”  

A corner of his lips curled up slightly. He spat on his hand and rubbed it into your cunt. You arched into his palm, your cunt chasing any contact you could have with your beloved. “Tell me, who do you belong to?” 

“You.”

“Speak fully and speak my name.” 

“I belong to you, Marcus.” 

“Correct. Why do you think then, that you can tell me what I can and cannot do with you?” 

He parted your cunt lips and slid a finger inside you. “You belong to me. All of you. This cunt belongs to me. Does it not?” You nodded as he pumped his thick finger in and out of you. It had been so long since you’d been touched that even his finger felt a little much for you to take. You shuddered as you thought of his cock, promising the virility that came with such a size. 

“Speak,” he commanded, every bit the fearsome General who led men into battle. When even warriors couldn’t defy him, how could you? 

“It belongs to you, Marcus.” 

“Mmm,” he rumbled, curling his finger inside you, making you whimper. “If I want to lick this cunt then, do you have any right to stop me?” 

“N-no,” you cried, grabbing his wrist and imploring him to slow down for you couldn’t take such intoxicating pleasure. “If peo— Marcus! If someone knew—”

Then he dove into your core and licked the nub above your cunt, eliciting a squeal from you. He looked up at you from between your legs, tongue still licking you as he smirked. It was sinful, the sight and the act of a man serving a woman. You shook your head, your senses already addled from being so close to him after a long year. It was wrong. Wrong. But oh gods, he made all the wrongs feel right and who were you to deny him? 

Tears rolled down your cheeks, no longer from the agony of separation from your dearest but from the building pressure in your core. 

“Marcus…” you said, unable to say anything else. You reached your hand towards him, needing to be anchored to the Earth as he flew you to the heavens. He enveloped your hand in his and gave a small squeeze. His other hand and his lips were unrelenting, giving him new ways to torment you. 

How did anyone deem it submissive for a man to kneel and lick cunt? Your Marcus still looked as majestic as ever. The picture of victory that Rome worshiped. The Marcus Acacius who slew and killed was home and ruthless in his conquest of you. Even as he licked your core, he was the one with all the power in hand. This was but a new way for him to take you. 

You gasped inaudibly as he inserted another finger in your cunt, stretching you in preparation for his cock. You felt your unraveling come closer. He pulled you deeper into whatever spell he had you under whenever he touched your cunt. You squeezed his hand tighter, saying everything your lips couldn’t. Hold me, keep me safe, never let me go.

The waves crashed against the rocks on the shores of the beach as you came crashing down from the heavens. Marcus kept his wordless promise. You tightened your legs around his head yet he held you in place and kept you safe. 

When you came to, you found your fingers tangled in between his dark curls. You loosened your grip on him but did not let go, needing to feel him even if it was just his hair. 

“I should not have liked that.” 

He laughed and gave your cunt another lick, smirking as he watched you shudder. 

“But you did,” he said, getting up at last. “I knew you tasted divine, but having you directly from your cunt is something else, melilla.” 

“I have not washed in days because of you. I am sure I taste horrendous.” 

“Good girl, following orders well. But you are wrong. You taste and smell like a woman. Not a perfumed woman. This,” he said in a low voice as the tip of his nose traced up your neck. He inhaled your scent and moaned. “This is nothing you can find in a vial. This is your true scent,” he said, stopping at your ear and placing a kiss. 

“I would recognize it anywhere.” He reached under his pteruges and toga and retrieved his cock. Your cunt clenched at the mere sight of him. 

He was far too covered. As much as you loved to see your General in his armor, you loved more to see him bare. You needed to run your fingers over his bare chest and dig your fingernails into his shoulders as he wrung his pleasure out of you.  You found the ties that held his armor in place and began to undo them. 

“Impatient girl,” he chided as he aligned himself with your cunt. 

“Help me out then,” you snapped back as you struggled with the knots. He ignored your request and continued on his path of destroying you, plunging his length inside you much too quickly. You cried from the pain and pleasure of being stretched out by him once again. 

“Marcus!” 

He bent forward and whispered your name against your lips before claiming them. You moaned into the kiss as you rubbed yourself against him for friction. You were loath to pull away from his cock even the slightest as you ached for him too much to part from him. You wrapped your legs around him and pressed your heels down on his back, pulling him deeper inside you. 

He wrapped a hand around your throat, tightening and loosening every now and then. “Day and night, I longed for you,” he whispered, his breath mixing with yours. “Dreamt of the day I would be inside you again.” 

You echoed the sentiment, but he quickly silenced you with a hard thrust that you felt in the deepest part of your core. He wasn’t the gentle Marcus who treated you like you did your fine silks but the General who conquered every land he set foot on. He rammed in and out of you, reclaiming you as his. Your cunt opened up to take its master, molded itself around him like it did each time since your wedding night. He had taken you, his young bride, and shown you a world only he could. He’d taken and taken, made you a woman by showing you what your body could do for you. 

He licked up your neck, growling like he was tasting the finest delicacies from the emperors’ table after being starved for months. “You smell sweet, Carisimma.” 

“You lived in tents with men for a year. I’m sure a pig would smell sweet to you now,” you said, making him laugh even as he wrecked you. He reached down to your breasts and grabbed one in his hand. He pinched your nipple between his fingers and tugged, making you cry out in pain. 

“Marcus!” Drops of milk trickled from your breasts and he swiped it with him thumb before licking it. 

“I only regret that I could not see you grow bigger with my seed.” 

“You ha- you have seen it before.” 

“Yet I am not satisfied. I need more, I need to fill you up with my seed, keep you full with my children in perpetuity.” 

“Marcus! Please…” 

“What do you beg for, girl?” 

“Give me sons, Marcus. Let me give you heirs,” you cried, overcome by the need to become his in that primal way. It was more than just your duty as his wife. It was an innate desire. As frightening as pregnancy was, you wanted it again and again at the hands of your husband. To give him sons carry his name and daughters who would control the great General with their laughter. 

“Give me sons,” he repeated, the hand around your neck squeezing tight. This time, he did not relax, holding your air hostage as he used your cunt for his carnal desires. You gasped for breath. Your cunt squeezed around him, keeping him in so he would give you his seed and refusing to let go even for a moment. 

Every thrust after sent delicious ripples of pain. You knew that you would wake the next morning unable to walk as usual. You would hear your servant girls giggle when they thought you couldn’t hear. He would wreck you day and night, make you scream for all the house to hear. He would take you to high places in the city, an arrogant smile on his lips as he showed you off, rounded again with his child. 

As though he could read your thoughts, he spilled inside you with a cry of your name. You held him close, afraid he would part from your body and rob you of his warmth. 

He showered you with kisses, beginning as a downpour and ending with a drizzle. You melted into his arms, the tension in your muscles leaving now that you had your Marcus home. You were no longer alone, he was here and he would take care of everything. 

“Am I forgiven now?” 

You smiled, burrowing into his chest as draped your discarded silk over you and picked you up in his arms. “I will consider it if you make sure I don’t bleed this cycle.” 

You felt his chest rumble as he laughed. A kiss on the top of your head.

“As you say, melilla.”

Fic notifications blog

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aegon bathing and asking his wife to join him

It's been so long since I posted anything about HotD. Have you seen the trailers? I'm so excited for the new season!! This one has been in my wips for a long time, but I kicked myself to finish it today to celebrate the upcoming season

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You entered the ensuite of your and Aegon’s shared bedchamber, hair unpinned and cascading down your back. Outside your quarters, they were always pinned into a braided hairstyle, concealing their true length to the court’s eyes. It’s good to have a distinction between the way a lady presents herself to the people and what is only for her husband’s eyes. Your day dress was replaced by an emerald green silk robe with dainty broderies along the lapels, a gift from the queen, given to you on your and Aegon’s wedding day. It was beautiful. 

‘’There you are,’’ you said, seeing Aegon in the tub, steam rising from the scalding hot water. 

His eyes shifted to you, the corner of his mouth curling when they fell on your attire. He poured more wine into his cup, splashing some water over the side of the tub due to the movements. ‘’My wife is a sight for sore eyes.’’ 

His speech wasn’t slurred, but it would soon be if he continued drinking.

You offered him a soft smile in response to his compliment. ‘’And my husband is about to be drunk.’’ 

Aegon grinned. ‘’I’m perfectly sober.’’

You shook your head as you approached, then sat on the stool by the tub as he bathed. ‘’If you’re sober, why is this pitcher almost empty?’’ 

Aegon laughed. He was caught. 

‘’Will you be joining me in the bath?’’

He wished he could spend every night of his life just like this — just you and him, alone with one another. No more worrying about his duties as first son of the king and heir of the throne. No more worried about needing to produce heirs. Neither of you were ready to raise children, but his mother kept making subtle hints that a babe was needed soon. 

‘’It depends.’’ 

Aegon leaned back in the tub and took another sip of wine, enjoying the warmth enveloping his body. ‘’I wouldn't mind some company,’’ he said with a playful glint in his eyes. 

You chuckled, standing up and untying the sash of your robe. Under, you had on a nightgown made of the same material, but in a lighter shade. It had delicate thin straps and almost touched the floor. You until the ties of the straps and stepped out of the nightgown, which made Aegon’s mouth curl into a smirk. 

Carefully, you stepped into the tub and lowered yourself to sit opposite him. 

Aegon's gaze lingered on you, grateful that you were his. To his eyes, there was no woman more beautiful than you. Without a word, he reached out and gently took hold of your ankles, pulling your feet closer to him until they rested against his thighs.

Before getting wed, you had heard the whispers at court about how Aegon wouldn’t make a great husband. How he could never be faithful to his wife as he was always frequenting brothels and sleeping around. How cold he was emotionally. 

He wasn��t like that with you. Everything that had been said turned out to be wrong. 

‘’How long can we stay here?’’ he asked, his fingers tracing patterns along your calves. 

You smiled at his touch, allowing yourself to relax. Despite the rumors and whispers that had surrounded him, you knew the truth — Aegon was kind, caring, and fiercely devoted to you. No one could compete with your beauty. He also had a dirty mind and a slight drinking problem, but you knew how to deal with him.

‘’As long as we want,’’ you replied, running your fingers through the water. ‘’We are not expected anywhere until the morrow.’’

Aegon sighed. He hated duty. ‘’Sometimes, I dream of a life where we can be together like this, without the weight of our titles pressing down on us. A life where we can choose our own path, without the expectations of others. I…I don’t want to be king. Unfortunately, my whole future has been planned before I knew how to speak.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes  @thirsty4nonlivingmen  @naty-1001  @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl  @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester

[determinate-negation]

IMPORTANT update on mohammed's campaign!

mohammed almanasra @save-mohamed-family has unfortunately been having issues with fundraising. his first campaign was shut down by the bank and GFM without him getting any of the money he raised. recently he had some concerns about the person hosting his second campaign because he has only been receiving a small percentage of the funds raised and the host wouldn’t send receipts. he thought it'd be best if we started a new campaign with me hosting it and shut down the old campaign. i'll be organizing this now so hopefully there will be no problems and i can be transparent with him about the finances. also in a stronger currency (USD)

mohammed has been verified by @el-shab-hussein and is on the Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List #192 with this updated link now

you may have seen my other posts about his campaign, mohammed and i talk frequently and its so awful what he's been through in this genocide:

mohammed lost his mother, father, and four sisters who were killed in a bombing, and is now living in tents with his remaining family members, his wife and three young children. he was seriously injured in his foot and it may need to be amputated, but he told me that hes doesn't care if he loses his foot he just doesn't want to lose his family. his wife has uterine cancer but hasn't been able to get treatment recently because the genocidal israeli army has destroyed health centers. his children are suffering from infectious diseases spreading throughout gaza, and the little medical treatment available is very expensive. here’s a photo of his kids who instead of having a normal childhood have to struggle to survive.

they've been displaced recently again, because of the israeli army changing the location of so called 'humanitarian zones,' and every displacement is expensive and exhausting, with no guarantee that where they are forced to move to is actually safe. right now mohammed told me he doesn't have good enough internet to use tumblr unless he goes to a internet hot spot which are often more dangerous because the idf targets people there. he knows it's risky but fundraising online is the only way he can support his family right now.

mohammed has made posts on his blog about their situation and i do encourage you to read his own words, because i am merely summarizing conditions that are far worse than any of us from outside can really comprehend

the pain of losing so many family members, your home, your job, your city, and everything you have is already unimaginable. please dont let him lose any more of his family. donate to this campaign and if you cant, share it with someone who can.

especially if you have a degree of disposable income i implore you to think about what you can reasonably give. it could be relatively small adjustment for you but make a significant difference for someone else. thank you very much everyone who participated already for starting this out with some donations.

$205 raised of $50,000 USD

[todaystarot]

What Will Your Future Child Love About You?

- a pick a card.

one two three

explanation.

I always see people say that there are many forms of love, not just romantic. Which, they are correct in. Yet, they still have a narrow view on it and refer to friendship as an example, or if they are big hearted their pet… Which is completely fine, I just felt a desire to create a pick a card that’s focused on love but none of those things. I never saw a pick a card with this topic before, neither on youtube or on tumblr. Could just be me though. Felt like making it anyway. If you don’t want children, that’s cool, I chose this topic because I would like to be a mother one day. This reading also applies to the first child you will have, or you know, the next one.

disclaimer.

Remember to take things with a grain of salt, and only take what resonates. Not because I don’t trust my skills, but because several people read pacs, what’s not meant for you could mean the world for someone else. Besides, this is for entertainment and the energy surrounding you or the overall situation could change any second. Life is unpredictable.

how to pick your pile.

There is always several ways to pick a pile, and sometimes maybe multiple call for us. You can pick the one that you can’t take your eyes off, even if there’s another picture you might find prettier. You can ask your guides to guide you in choosing a pile, or go with the old regular closing your eyes and picking whichever one your eyes land on. I usually do that too.

proof read?

Unfortunately no. Please know that I would never put anything in my PAC with harmful intentions towards you or anybody else.

one

You, my dear pile one will be so loved for so many reasons! It’s truly incredible. Even though you might not think that you will be an awesome parent - maybe now, maybe in the future -, trust me, your child will think otherwise! First of all, they will have this adoration towards you staying calm even in stressful situations and knowing how to handle things, how to take care of them and provide a solution and smooth things out. This is will make them feel safe next to you, and with time calm down as they see that you yourself are calm too. Of course, you wouldn’t always be calm, but you wouldn’t show even when you are scared so there is someone grounded in the situation that can take charge even if just on an emotional level. - I am saying this because your spouse will help you out when things are hard, not because you aren’t capable. -

Another thing here seems to be that you will respect their privacy and love life, as long as they are safe you will let them love safely and explore their interests as much as they need to in order to be happy. You let them be independent all while allowing them to rely on you and come to you when they need it. They know that this isn’t something everyone has, so they are all the more grateful to have someone like you as their parent. You are not invasive, you are not judgmental but so full of love, acceptance and understanding towards them. Maybe because you had a childhood where you weren’t happy, so you will do your best to give them everything good that you couldn’t get to have. Full of love, and they will remember it for the rest of their life.

📜 nine of swords, two of cups reversed, four of cups, page of swords reversed, queen of cups side ways, knight of swords side ways - facing the other way -, three of wands

confirmation.

high school musical , adele , nelly - dilemma , ‘i will love you till the day that I die , someone in this pile had to give up on their dream to be a singer/musical artist, hamilton, ‘vanessa open the door please’, ‘ (…)running out of time’ , 777 , city girl , virgo - do you have tummy issues? - , rihanna & eminem / asap rocky , pink nails but w a lot of charms , diverse pile

two

Alright, so I will be honest with you. Your next child will have some developmental issues, but not necessarily life threatening ones. - neither in a sense of d*ath or having trouble living on their own. they will just need a bit of help. - While asking your questions I stuttered a lot despite being calm, so I honestly think your child will have speech issues. Maybe potentially this could be genetic, or anything of the sort.. They will love you because even if you will have a hard time, where your mental health or emotional state will be tested you will never ever in your life will give them a hard time for whatever it is that they are struggling with. You will be loving, kind, gentle and patient with them. Instead of forcing them to learn in a pace which will stress them out you will be the one to learn how to understand what works best for them, and do that. They will really appreciate this. Honestly, regardless of whatever this issue is, I feel sorry because they have such a sensitive heart. Even if they shouldn’t, there is just some things they take to the heart and might feel like they are the problem even though they didn’t do anything. Such a pure child, the sort that’s very well behaved, kind to adults and friendly to their peers.. so these thoughts really could just come from overhearing and misinterpreting conversations or perhaps just overthinking. The funny thing is, I do think you would be their safe haven because they know you would never judge them no matter what heartbreak they are going through. It’s like they can’t imagine a life without you.

Now, I don’t mean to be an asshole or scare anyone unnecessarily. I am not a doctor and I will never be, but the ace of cups reversed here can represent miscarriages or pregnancy complications. So please if you are a woman look after your health. I don’t mean to scare you bc at the end of the day this is a collective general reading and we don’t know each other, but it’s always nice to look after your health regardless.

On a MUCH brighter note though, they will truly appreciate whenever you support their interests. They might be a book worm, so if this is something you two have in common they could happily share their interests with you! They will do it regardless, but your baby would get so excited if you show interest in them.

You will also stand next to them and support them no matter what they go through in life, let that be good or bad, which is something they will really appreciate.

📜 six of pentacles reversed, knight of pentacles, four of wands, ace of cups reversed, the heirophant, the high priestess, seven of pentacles

confirmation.

twilight , renesme , butterflies , cross necklace , bbc , orange hair and freckles - this is for someone who will have a little boy - , ocean green eyes , what was I made for - Billie Eilish , 5sos , ‘i bet on losing dogs’ , mother mary , flashing lights , genetic , obsession with beats / drums ? - not for the child, a reader in this pile -

three

Your child, will sometimes give you headaches.. but they will really love you. If you have ever seen modern family then they sort of remind me of Hailey in the earlier seasons. Bratty, picks fights, doesn’t always understand where her mom is coming from but sees all the hard work that she does and appreciates and loves her mother - both parents really - quite deeply. Not to say I am calling your child bratty, or a brat. That’s not where I am going with this, rather your guides pulled towards letting you know this first so you don’t misunderstand the rest of the reading.

They will, first of all, love that you will give them everything that you can. Y’all will be pretty well off. Not only will you guys be able to live comfortably but they will have a few unnecessary things that they don’t even need or probably forget about in a few years after getting it. They are not ungrateful, rather the opposite. They know this is a privilege, they don’t look down on those less fortunate than you guys, they are just grateful that they have a parent that cares about them so much they would give them everything they ask for, even if things aren’t always the brightest. You also, always, without any question get them out of any trouble or uncomfortable situation and defend them. Won’t matter if they are in the wrong or not, that’s your baby and you will stand by them!

They also love to travel with you! They enjoy your company a lot and to make memories, they always look forward to exploring the world with you. They might also follow you around like a little duckling, even if you only go to the store or to do some super boring errands. Honestly, your kid is an extrovert and super clingy. In a cute way though for sure.

Your dynamic with them reminds me of a tiktok I saw months back, where the teenage kid was piggy back riding the mom and she was annoyed as she recorded saying “look what I have to deal with”, but in reality she truly just appreciated the love. Such an easy going and regular pile, love that for y’all.

📜 nine of pentacles, seven of pentacles, the hermit reversed, knight of swords, four of wands, six of swords, three of wands

confirmation.

thrift shop - macklemore , old house in the balkans/europe in summer - ?? so specific, did you travel back to your home country in summer or planned to? - , moonlight , witch craft , snake , ‘i know a place we can escape ‘ , those fluffy slippers that are like plushies & soft pjs , airplanes , power wires , lime - & cheetos ?? -

[dipperscavern]

can I be cheeky and ask for riding jon’s face 🫣🫣🫣

yes… oh yes you absolutely can….. i fell asleep last night to the thought of jon snow canonically being a munch (funny enough) — we’re on the same wavelength anon ! (written w shy!reader in mind)

you’ve heard the talk, heard the different ladies from different statures talk about “the act”, and it’s always a different answer. some say it’s mediocre… others, that it’s their favorite way to feel good, and some, say it’s terrible. you’ve heard stories of men never caring about the woman’s pleasure, and how their only purpose was to give them children. the thought made you shudder.

you, yourself, have never had time. time to freely choose who you trust enough to share that sacred experience with (or even touch yourself). the men at castle black are sworn to celibacy, and even if they would abandon their oath for a night with you, you wouldn’t let them. most of the men at the wall are untrustworthy, and you want more than just a quick fuck. even if these thoughts plague you, you’re too busy with your duties to worry about it. a thing you’ve since long accepted.

until jon snow.

you had been there for jon since his arrival at castle black. never batting an eye at his surname, always trying to make his life a little bit easier. there was also the stolen glances, the soft touches you both passed off as “accidental”, the longing for each other. you both remained as merely “close friends”, until things boiled over and you found solace in each others lips. it didn’t go farther than that, the tentative kiss being soft & exploring, and that was okay with you. you didn’t expect more. until you got more.

sometimes, you hate jon for being so easy to talk to. your shy nature has slowly melted away in his presence, and you find yourself unable to be embarrassed about the questions you ask or answer. your late night talks are what keeps jon sane. he wants to know everything about you, and you both would talk till morning if you could (you have before). the topic often shifts, landing on anything and everything on the planet. even “the act”.

imagine jon’s surprise, when the most beautiful & endearing woman he’s ever met drops her gaze to the floor and bashfully tells him she’s never cum before.

jon short circuits. he asks if you want to. he asks if he can make you. and you say yes.

jon snow is a giver. tasting a woman is a pleasure in itself, and he’d tell you as much if you asked. his mind ran a million miles an hour, thinking about all the ways he could make you feel good. it doesn’t take long before the desire to taste you takes a hold of him, and so he does.

“You’re hovering.”

he’s not wrong. you are. you thought you had heard it all, but the act of sitting on someone’s face has clearly alluded your ears. you’re unsure. you don’t want to hurt him.. suffocating the first man you lay with would have you begging the gods to open the ground and swallow you whole. and it’s not just any man, it’s jon.

the soft glide of jon’s fingers across your thigh bring you out of your head. his hands are cold. they feel nice in contrast to your own skin, nerves lit on fire.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t.”

“Jon-”

“Do you trust me?”

he’s steadfast in his reassurance. his thumb has been rubbing circles in your hip while you both have been talking. does he do it all on purpose, or is he just this naturally desirable?

“You know I do, but-“

“Good. Sit.”

you still hesitate, and that’s when jon takes matters into his own hands. his hands stop their tracing, and instead grip your thighs, bringing you down himself.

whatever expectations you had are exceeded tenfold. jon eats you out like a man starved. your head spins with the way you can feel his tongue, exploring you and swiping over your clit. it has white hot pleasure shooting up your spine, and your thighs quiver ever so slightly, but jon’s firm grip keeps you in place. he’s confident in his movements, precise and sure in a way that makes you see stars.

jon thinks he’s found the place where he would be content to meet his demise. you taste so good, and the pretty sounds you’re making have blood rushing straight to his cock. jon has always loved the sound of his name on your lips — whether it be small acknowledgments in passing by, or just mentions in mere conversation. but he’s found he much prefers hearing you moan it.

you’re almost embarrassed how quickly he has warmth building up in your belly, pressure building as he gives you the most pleasure you’ve ever had. he’s giving and giving and giving, and you find yourself selfishly taking all of it. he doesn’t slow down, keeping a steady rhythm that makes the cord in your stomach wind impossibly tighter.

“Jon, I’m-!”

you don’t get to finish your sentence, interrupted by the snap of the cord in your stomach that was previously tightening. pleasure overtakes your nerves, flooding your veins and momentarily removing your ability to speak (or think). jon’s tongue doesn’t stop fully, only slowing down to help you ride out your peak.

you catch your breath, feeling jon kiss the inside of your thighs as small aftershocks have you clenching around nothing. you find yourself seeking his touch (as if he hasn’t been constantly on you), your hand running along the surface of your thigh to find his own. he reaches for you, trapping your own smaller hand beneath his own. it’s reassuring, grounding you back to the present after he brought you so far over the edge.

you move to get off, to let him get up & breathe — but he doesn’t release his grip, keeping you in place. you hear him speak.

“Only once?”

[4only1]

Best Friends Brother

Gitae Kim x Reader

Masterlist

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You had just returned from meeting Bongae Choi with Jake. After stopping for a quick meal, the two of you were walking down Big Deal’s street. 

You had known Jake since childhood, having grown up with him alongside Jerry. You had mutual respect for each other, and even if you weren’t much of a fighter, he knew you could handle yourself if need be.

Jake cleaned his teeth with a toothpick while you walked beside him, your phone out, trying to call Sinu Han, who wasn’t answering. It was starting to irritate you that he wasn’t answering, I mean he didn’t have much to do, so why wasn’t he answering you?

Ahead of you and Jake, you finally see Sinu, along with a very tall and muscular man. Dare you say, handsome? (You do dare). They seemed to be fighting, but that was the last thing on your mind. You first had to complain to Sinu about him not answering your phone calls.

“Sinu, why aren’t you answering your phone? Seriously Jake, we don’t have to bring him with us do we?” You exclaim, redirecting the last question towards the man beside you, who seems to ignore you.

“We were gonna get rice sou-, hey what’s with the vibes here?” Jake says, dropping the toothpick to the ground as the stranger comes up and hugs him before saying “Found you” in a deep gruff voice.

The stranger was way better looking up close. Yep, you do dare say handsome. The scene however confuses you. Did Jake know this guy? Why were they hugging? It didn’t make much sense because you knew all of Jake’s friends and this wasn’t one of them.

“Finally, the last one” A deep voice breaks through your train of thought. This stranger is now hugging Jake to his side, holding onto one of the gloves Jake’s father, Gapryong Kim, left him. 

“Huh, last one? You mean father’s glove” Jake questions the strange man. You pipe up, giving your two cents on what was happening.

“They are nice gloves Jake, you have to admit that” This leads the stranger to finally take note of you. He makes prolonged eye contact with you as he brings a smoking pipe and lighter to his lips, where a smirk forms. Wait…you know that lighter, it’s Jake’s mothers!

“She said she would give it to me if I didn’t kill her son. Your mom requested to not shed blood amongst relatives.”. Relatives? It all clicked, they didn’t look identical but there were some similarities. The hair, the nose, that jawline, this was Jake’s half-brother, Gitae Kim!

“I’m gonna ask you a question. If I don’t like your answer I’ll kill you” Gitae states, thickening the tension that was already in the air. He wouldn’t actually kill Jake, would he?

“What do you think of Gapryong Kim?”. After hearing the question, Jake grabs Gitae’s shirt collar and looks up at him. Jake is already a big guy, but Gitae is ridiculously huge. He could crush you with one hand if he wanted to. I can only hope that Gitae hates Gapryong Kim just as much as Jake. I don’t doubt his strength, but I doubt he could fight Gitae, the man was quite literally built differently.

You weren’t listening but soon see Gitae pickup Jake like he is a baby. Holy Shit! That is the only thought that crosses your mind at what you are witnessing. That and how good-looking Gitae is, but that isn’t important right now (or is it?). You heard the man say something in what you guessed to be Spanish before saying something that sent a chill down your spine.

“The only one among his children. I didn’t like any of the other guys.” It was starting to make sense. He had the lighter and pipe, and that shirt and hat looked familiar to you as well. Was he killing his father’s children and collecting the parts of his father that were left to them! 

As soon as he put Jake down on the ground, his attention turned back to you. You held your breath as he walked over and towered over you. You had kinda hoped he forgot about you, but also, the aura this man held interested you. You wanted to know more about him.

He held his hand out towards you before asking in probably the kindest tone he could muster, that still somehow sounded emotionless “Let me use your phone.”. Your body moved on its own, placing the phone you’ve been holding in your hand all this time into his.

You saw him typing in something before a phone rang out. He pulled it from out of his pocket and declined the call. Then he returns the call from his phone to your phone. After pocketing his phone, he began doing something else. When he turned the phone back around, it was on a new contact saved as ‘Gitae Kim’.

“I added myself to your contacts, so make sure you answer when I message or call.”. In a state of shock, all you could do was nod at this information. “What’s your name?” Gitae’s deep gruff voice says. Is it possible to fall in love with a man like this after what you just witnessed? Anything is possible I guess.

“(y/n) (l/n)”. A smirk places itself on Gitae’s face as he reaches down to take the hat off his waistband. You hear Sinu, who has moved next to you whisper ‘I thought he hated romance?’ before turning to look at you baffled. 

“I hope to see you later,” Gitae says before turning around and placing the hat on his head. “I haven’t had this much fun in ages, little brother.”. With that, he walked away, leaving you, Jake and Sinu in shock. As the three of you stood there, looking at Gitae walking into the distance, you couldn’t help but speak what was on your mind.

“Jake, your brother is kinda hot”

“(Y/N)!!!!”

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I have to admit it is kinda hard to write an x reader for a character who hates romance. I did my best, even if the romance is barely there.

There are probably a million spelling errors but I just wanted to get this out there. Idk why but this man is the one I've decided to stan. Probably because I like Jake so much too lol.

[yeonzzzn]

to be popular: park jongseong

pairing: jay x afab!reader word count: 2.3k

synopsis: when all you want is to be in the spotlight along with your best friend and he helps you out.

genre: childhood friends!, popular!jay, friends to ?, smut.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, degradation, fingering.

a/n: had this in my drafts for awhile and finally decided to finish it up! enjoy it! ~

“Do you think he would though?” 

All Jay could do was lock eyes with you at your question. This was normal for the two of you at parties. 

“YN…” He sighs, lifting the beer can to his lips, “You know how I feel about this.” 

You pouted at your best friend, clenching the empty beer can in your hand, and hearing the crack of the tin above the music. 

You wouldn’t call yourself a loser, but you weren’t exactly below a loser or even more than a loser. You were just normal. Completely and simply normal. Jay though? Has been the most popular guy since kindergarten. 

The two of you grew up together as neighbors, both being the only children in your families, it was only natural you both grew attached to each other. Jay was popular from the moment you both started school. And as the years went on it only got worse. As a child, you figured your popularity would come along with being best friends with Jay, mostly since homeboy was the captain on every sports team he played on and was even top of your class as well. Not to mention he was the head guitar player for the school's band growing up as well. Jay had multiple reasons under his belt for being popular. But you were always in his shadow. The most people knew of you was that you lived next door to him and were one of his best friends. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

And it infuriated you. 

Nothing you did put you in the spotlight. People barely remembered your name or who you were until you were standing right next to him. At first, you thought it was just kids being mean, but as the years went on, you slowly learned that maybe it was just you. Someone who was forgettable. 

Jay always got pissed off with you anytime you would mention how forgettable you were, “You’re literally my BEST FRIEND, YN!” he’d snapped at you, “You’re everything but forgettable.” 

Sure, you had some boys knocking on your door for attention, and you’d give them it. But your popularity never went anywhere. It’s not like you even wanted the popularity for the attention really, you just wanted to feel like an equal with Jay. To have everyone remember your name and who you were. To not be well…barely above a loser. 

“Jay,” you turned your body fully towards him, lifting your knee to your chest and taking a hold of the burnt orange colored couch with your free hand, “It’s a yes or no question!” 

Jay chugged down the rest of his beer and shifted his eyes from you over to Heeseung, the guy you are basically begging him to answer on if he’d be down to fuck you. Heeseung was a friend of Jay’s and also one of the most popular guys at your college. Heeseung has a reputation for fucking any girl who comes his way. Jay knew it was only a matter of time before you resorted to trying to get Heeseung to spread your legs. 

Heeseung was probably six or seven drinks in at this party and was currently getting touchy with another girl in the kitchen. Eyes completely locked on her. 

Jay looked back at you with a slight smirk, “He looks busy.” 

You rolled your eyes, “That’s not what I'm asking.” 

Jay looked down at the coffee table in front of him, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Why did this matter so much to you? Chasing after popular guys at the college just to get your name out there. Jay never understood why you wanted this popularity. If anything, Jay wished he was in your position. To be normal and not have multiple females at every party he attends jumping his bones. 

And quite frankly, Jay was tired of having this conversation with you. 

“I’m not answering this,” he said with a wave of his hand, “You know I don’t like the idea of you throwing yourself at random guys just for attention.”

You tossed the empty beer can on the table and clenched your fist, starting to get up from the couch, “Fuck you then, if you feel that way. I'll try to seduce him myself.” This is how every conversation about this topic goes with Jay. Him always shutting you down. But you've had enough of it. 

And apparently, so did Jay. 

Because you were down flat on your back on the couch with him hovering over you. 

“J-Jay,” you glanced your eyes around the room, “W-what are you doing?” 

He didn’t answer you, taking your arms and pinning them above your head, his lips now attached to your neck. Your body reacted in a way you weren’t expecting it to. You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access to you. Your heart rate increased, and the thoughts not circulating in your brain scared you. 

“Jay,” you called his name again, shifting yourself as best as you could away from his lips. 

One of his hands left your wrist and took your jaw between his fingers, “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Jay hovered his lips above yours, barely brushing them together and sliding his free hand down to the button of your jeans, “To be fucked like a slut publicly. All to be popular.” 

He was angry. Frustrated. Pissed at every man in this room that you’ve tried to pull into bed with you. Pissed at you. This was the only way he knew to not only set you straight but also get his feelings out of the way. 

He pressed his lips to yours in the same motion of unbuttoning your jeans, his cold fingers slipping down your panties and rubbing at your folds, humming against your lips, “Already so wet? Just from me barely touching you?” 

“Shut up,” you snapped, lifting yourself to connect your lips back together. Jay’s cock twitched at your sudden action and pushed two fingers into your cunt, groaning at how perfectly you clenched around him. How perfectly you feel. 

It amazed him how unfazed you were right now. Jay was sure you’d push him off or snap at him for even making a move on you. The two of you were best friends after all, and never once crossed this line until well, now. Jay could blame it on the alcohol he’s consumed. Could even blame it on all that you’ve had to drink as well. 

But it was all further from the truth. 

Jay pushed his fingers in you faster and parted your lips with his tongue, wrapping the muscle around yours. He was getting so drunk off your taste. Was so turned on over the fact you’re letting him do this to you in the middle of a public college party. You surprised yourself. Your whole plan was just to get Heeseung to make out with you in front of everyone and then drag him off into an empty bedroom or even the bathroom. The last thing you expected was your best friend to be knuckled deep in your pussy and his tongue down your throat.

And by god with the way he was working his fingers in and out of you, you knew your orgasm was fast approaching. As if he already knew how to work your body before even touching you. 

The truth…he’s only ever dreamed of how it would feel to do something like this with you. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and looped them at your jeans and pushed them down and leaving your mouth, “You’ve made your rounds asking every single fuck boy possible,” he scoffed, flying his hands to undo his belt, jeans button and zipper, “To fuck you like a slut all for popularity.” The truth…the truth the truth the truth, “Asked everyone but me.” 

Your eyes widened at his words, a new feeling sinking into your heart. He sounded angry, his face showed hints of jealousy as his eyes pierced into you and his hands worked at shoving his pants and boxers down past his hips, setting his cock free. 

It surprised you how willingly Jay was to do this. How he didn’t seem to care that he was about to fuck you on a couch in the middle of some random party with everyone around to witness it. But it’s what you wanted, right? 

Jay lined his tip to your entrance and wasted no time pushing himself in, flinging his head back when it kissed your cervix, “Fuck, YN,” he hissed, taking your wrists back in his hands to pin against the leather of the couch. Jay was already seeing stars at how perfectly you felt wrapped around him. How good you felt. Like your cunt was made for him and him only. 

He fucked into you hard, keeping his face tucked perfectly in the crook of your neck. You tried to keep your moans down, eyes wandering the living room to see if anyone was watching. 

“Why are you so nervous now, baby?” he whispered in your ear, fucking into you harder, “You wanted this,” You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your calm to focus on that pain instead of the pleasure he was giving you down south, “Everyone fucks at parties. Moan for me, YN. Let everyone see how good I’m giving it to you.” 

He bit down into your neck and you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your lips parted and a loud wet moan escaped. Jay smirked at the sound, darting his eyes over to Heeseung and loving the way his friend's jaw was dropped and eyes locked onto the two of you. 

“See that, baby?” he cooed, “All eyes are on you now,” you barely tilted your head to the side, seeing Heeseung and the female at his side both staring at you and Jay. Seeing the eyes of random partygoers staring as they walked past the living with their eyes wide. Heeseung finally closed his mouth and tucked his lips between his teeth, making Jay spiral, “See, now he fucking wants you,” you looked back at Jay, seeing the fire burning within him, “No one is allowed to have you, understand?” 

He slid his hands down to your hips, squeezing them tightly as he fucked into you faster and harder, forcing more moans to leave your lips. 

“Asked everyone but me to fucked you,” he scoffed, “Never once did you think to ask me. Would have done it with no second thoughts.” The truth the truth the truth, “I’ve dreamed of having you underneath me like this, wrapped around my cock so perfectly. I’ve been so in love with you since we were kids. Kids, YN.” his anger burned hotter as he unleashed all his emotions, “Never gave a fuck how unpopular you were. Never cared that no one knew who you were because I wanted you all to myself,” he pressed his forehead to yours, brushing his lips to yours as he moans out from the pleasure, “But you? You just wanted to be popular.” 

You pulled your wrists from his hands and tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing him down to you to connect your lips together and wrapping your legs over his hips, “I only care about you right now, Seongie. Who cares about being popular.”

Your words had his heart doing flips. He finally got to you after so long. He smiled and looked back at Heeseung, feeling even more excited knowing Heeseung was still very much watching. It only pushed Jay to fuck into you faster. Harder. To kiss you harder. To bite your lip and pull and squeeze your hips harder to force you to arch your back at his every touch and pull. He loved knowing that another man was getting hard just by watching him fuck you. Loved seeing said man thirst for you knowing he wouldn’t be able to have you. 

You belonged to him. Always had. And always would. Because Jay isn’t letting you go after this. 

He kissed down your jaw and to your neck, “I’m fixing to cum, my love,” he whispered, placing opened-mouthed kisses to your skin, feeling the way you clench around him, “And I know you’re at your limit too.” 

You nodded, tanging your fingers more into his dark hair and pulling slightly, “I want to cum with you.” 

He chuckled, sliding one hand to your thigh and the other cupping your face, “All you had to do was ask,” and he pressed his lips to yours, moaning into your mouth as he gave one final thrust and squeezed the plush of your thigh. You both were filled with so much ecstasy as you came together. Breathing in each other's breaths. 

Once his head stopped spinning, Jay quickly pulled his jacket from his body and covered your lower halves, “I don’t need Heeseung over there seeing any more than he already has.” 

You giggled at him, sitting yourself up on your elbows, “You didn’t seem to care that I was exposed earlier.” 

Jay pinched your jaw between his fingers, “Not my fault you wanted to act like such a slut earlier.” 

You bit at your lips and gave him pleading eyes. Loving the way he smirked down at you. 

“You got your wish though, my love,” he said, pulling out of you and keeping the jacket in place as he pulled his jeans back up over his hips and helped you pull yours up too, “To be popular. Everyone will be talking about us now.” 

You pulled at his shirt collar and kissed him tenderly. Never did you ever think your childhood best friend would be in this position with you. To be so in love with you. Deep down you felt the same and didn’t want to admit it to yourself. And it only took you acting on your said wish. 

“At least we both will be the talk.” 

Jay just chuckles against your lips, “Only come to me when you want a good fuck, ya? You’re mine.”

—perm.tlist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore @enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae @kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Threefold cord (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon’s wife is presumed dead. But is she?

A/N: Blue beard, to finish my Halloween celebration because I cannot write on schedule. Also @just-some-random-blogger look! The fic I told you about.

Warnings: Hightower!reader x Daemon. Smut. Alicent, Gwayne and reader as siblings. Death of Rhea Royce. Happy ending!

“ARE YOU TRULY about to wed him?” You set your teacup down on its saucer. When your father had summoned you to the capital, you had known it was important news. But Alicent becoming a Queen? It surpassed everything you had imagined.

Your father wanted to make sure you were there to witness her triumph. Alicent lacked allies in court, beyond the Princess. And that relationship would sour as soon as the other girl heard just who her father was to wed.

Alicent was too naive to see it. Or purposefully blind. She claimed to not know what she had been doing when visiting the King, too. You guessed the thought made it easier to bear for her.

You didn’t blame her. King Viserys was old and beginning to show signs of being sickly. The thought of offering yourself to such a man, twice your age, on your father’s orders, wasn’t pleasant. You would rather pretend you were just being kind.

“It is for the best. Father says that he…” Alicent begins justifying her actions, and you tune out. You know it will just be a repetition of your father’s lectures. Duty. Bearing children. Women knowing their place.

You pitied her, for believing in his bullshit. It wasn’t as if either of you could escape your fate, but you at least tried not to lower yourself into thinking you were a lesser, gentler being, made to be bred. Instead, you enjoyed thinking you were a person. Just as human as any man, just as smart, just as strong. Only one trapped by your status as a noblewoman.

You sip at your tea. You are cautious not to make a sound when doing so, and not take too big of a sip. Anyone who gazes at your courtly smile and comely manners would not guess your innermost thoughts.

Alicent continues her tirade, describing animatedly how much she wants to do her duty and birth children. How she knows her body will not fail her as it did for the late Queen. She has an unfortunate thirst for proving herself, your eldest sister.

“And King Viserys asked me about you, the other day. He would like for you to marry Prince Daemon…”

The tea you are drinking goes down the wrong way. You start coughing, and have to hurriedly set down your teacup as to not burn yourself.

“Excuse me?” You say, once the coughing fit subsides a bit, and you are able to wipe your mouth with a napkin. “I will… What? Does father know of this?”

She looks at you, concerned, but says nothing about it. She pours herself another cup of tea.

“Prince Daemon’s wife has been missing for a while. They think she might have…” Alicent leans in, voice lowering. You are in the Tower of the Hand, surrounded by men loyal to your father, and yet she feels she cannot say it freely. You wonder what has Lady Royce done to scandalize her such. “Ran away. With a lover.”

“You prude!” You laugh. You had thought it much worse. “She wouldn’t be the first woman to do so, don’t be nai…”

“A female one.” Alicent interrupts, setting down her own teacup. The movement is a bit harsh, making the porcelain screech.

You open and close your mouth. You had not known that was even a possibility.

“How does one..?”

“Be as it may…” She raises a hand, halting you. “Father says you shall marry him, if he finds you agreeable.”

There was not much you knew about politics, but you were pretty sure the Prince despised your father and your house by extension. You doubted he would find you agreeable. Your father would doubt it too, but he was too blinded by the hope of getting Runestone.

Lady Royce had no heir. Her castle had gone to Daemon, the King needing little convincing to award it to his beloved brother. Imagining all that bronze in your hands, in House Hightower’s hands, would have him salivating. At getting his enemy away from court? That was only an unexpected bonus. If the man liked you and decided he wanted to play Come-into-my-castle with you, you were sure your father would dance a gig.

You wouldn’t. If it did happen… You shuddered, thinking of the man with the lecherous grin, always whoring. Twice your age, and crass as they came. The only times you had crossed paths, he had been busy ogling Alicent or his niece.

“I am not marrying him.”

Alicent frowns at you. Her eyes turn sad. When she gets contradicted, she looks much like a kicked puppy.

“I have never met him.” You explain, feeling guilty over upsetting her. She is just so much like your father, sometimes. It angers you, even when you know it is not her fault. She doesn’t have the same anger in her veins as you do. All she ever wanted was to please your father.

“He is looking for a wife, and King Viserys thinks it would be marvelous if you married him. I have told him all about you.” Alicent sounds excited about the whole thing, and just… No. You do not want to marry a man twice your age. Gross. Her tone turns softer. “I think it would be nice. To belong to the same House even after marriage. To be never parted from my sister.”

The want in her expression makes you soften. It is not often that Alicent admits to desiring anything, and you do not wish to discourage her.

“I’ll meet him.” You decide. “Just that.”

“Oh, how wonderful!”

And the Seven bless her, she actually seems delighted to hear it.

THE WEDDING IS awfully dull. The Septon drones on and on about the Mother and the Father, and the duties of marriage. Alicent looks stunning in her silk gown, beautiful but modest. It is no use. People already speak of what she has done to trap the King into marriage.

Princess Rhaenyra keeps sending her glares during the feast. Sometimes in anger, sometimes in hurt. She is not quite sure what to feel. You can tell from the way she pauses when looking at Alicent. You pity her too.

Losing a mother is a terrible thing. You can only imagine how much it hurts to see her replaced by a girl your own age.

The Princess is a woman who has everything and yet, it's still a woman. No power to stop her father from bedding her best friend, no power to change anything at all. The realization of her powerlessness is clear in her features.

In contrast, you doubt you have ever seen your father this happy. Ever. He is alight with pride. As if throwing his daughter to an old man is some great accomplishment. He has spared no expense on this wedding, the ceremony and feast lavish in a way that feels almost tasteless.

The pomp and luxuries have you feeling morose. You sip at your hippocras, tucked into a corner of the high table, and try to pretend you are invisible. Gwayne has left you far too soon, off to dance with some ladies.

He has always been the courteous sort, just like you. You enjoy watching him charm the ladies, and enjoy more the fact that he hasn’t tried to drag you to the dance floor.

For that, you are grateful. Some ladies are lively and dance as if gliding through water. You do not. Dancing had not been on the list of abilities you had acquired during your etiquette lessons.

It had always felt like peacocking to you. Showing yourself to others, showing how pretty you smiled, how graceful you were. The attention it brought made you uncomfortable. You much preferred blending in.

“Strange choice of drink you have there.” Prince Daemon says, sitting across from you. “Even stranger that you are still sitting at your sister's wedding.”

“I could say the same.” You reply, colder than you planned to. The hippocras is hitting you already, making your temper shorter. You have little interest in Daemon Targaryen.

There is a secret plan in your head. When you reach thirty, you will claim a sudden awakening of Faith and retire to the comforts of life as a Septa. You have done enough charity to know that Septas don’t do as much as they like people to think. The only thing you will miss will be the alcohol.

“Ah, but I am just sitting now.” He idly reaches for the carafe of hippocras you are monopolizing, and serves himself a goblet. “Is this any good?”

“At least it’s not dornish swill.” Dornish wine has to be the worst thing you have ever tasted, not even fit for pigs. Bitter and watery, the mere thought annoys you.

Prince Daemon barks out a laughter.

“Good Gods, where was Otto hiding you?”

“Probably in the same place as your decency.”

“Thread carefully.” Daemon’s expression turns far colder. His hand tightens around the stem of his goblet. “I might like your cheek, but I am still a prince of the realm.”

“One soon to be displaced.” You toast. A bit of hippocras spills from your goblet. You are far too drunk to care about his thoughts. “Be it by my nephews or your niece.”

His face reddens.

“Bitch.” He spits the word from clenched teeth. You laugh loudly.

“Knave.”

“You are an insolent little thing, aren’t you?” Daemon snarls, leaning over the table as if to throttle you. Drunk as you are, you don’t feel any fear. You have just enough rational thoughts left to believe you will be alright, since even the darkened corner you have chosen to sit in is too public for him to murder you without repercussions.

“I am small but fierce.”

“I can see that. Do all Hightower cunts have teeth?”

You smile at him, lazy and warm from the drinks you have had.

“I don’t know, care to find out?”

And Daemon laughs. He asks you to dance instead. As he twirls you and dips you, you come to find he is not bad company after all. And if you laugh a tad more than necessary, and accept his offer to walk the gardens the next afternoon, no one can blame you.

“IT IS BUT a couple of days.” Daemon says to you, softly. You lay on your stomach, head propped up on your arms. You twist your head just so to force him to see your sad little pout.

His hand comes to rub at your shoulders, as if you were a spooked horse he is trying to soothe. His touch is warm and calming against your bare skin.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

He has soothed you into complacency, this husband of yours. He allows you to indulge in fine wines, and be as frivolous as you wish. The only thing he asks of you is that you are warm and willing when he is. It is no chore.

Long gone is your rage. Now, you exist in a perfect bubble, where no one constricts your freedom. There is no screeching father to tell you that you are a disaster, nor is there a horrified Alicent. Instead, Daemon encourages all your eccentricities, and teaches you some new ones.

“Will you?” You roll on your side, stretching. You have done nothing today, not even dress. Daemon and you have spent the whole morning tangled in each other, warm and naked.

He smiles. That same grin that had once seemed so lecherous to you, now looks inviting.

You bite your lower lip, already anticipating what is to come.

“Minx.” Daemon laughs, before leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. The contact of his lips against your skin makes you shiver, a delicate sigh leaving you. “You won’t even notice I am gone.”

“Of course I will.” You whine, as he kisses a path down your spine. “Who will bring me such pleasure?”

A sudden, sharp pain on your arse makes you yelp and sit up. Daemon smirks, and feigns taking another bite out of you.

“You are so spoiled.” He laughs. “Cannot take even a little pain. I’ll leave you some coin, and you can invite your sister to keep you company. How does it sound?”

“Think the King can spare his Queen?” You have not seen your sister since your wedding. The ravens fly fast enough that you know the news already, but you doubt King Viserys will allow her to be out of his sight for long. Not when pregnant.

Daemon nips at your thigh. You jerk, but he coaxes you back into laying on your stomach.

“Before she gets too round to travel, yes. In a few moons, it will have to be us making the trip.”

“Gods, I hate babes.”

“So do I.” He rubs at your inner thigh, slowly prying your legs open. “So? Is my spoiled wife happy?”

“Very.” You rub your face in the pillow, all kittenish. You like being called his. “Do I get the keys of the castle, too?”

Daemon kisses the place where your thigh meets your arse. You can feel his smile against your skin, promising sin.

“Of course. Just don’t go into the room with the red door, alright? I forbid it.”

“You do?” You challenge, thinking it part of the game. So far, you have yet to explore all of Runestone, always too entertained by him to do so. There are a few rooms he is cagey about, but you have always blamed it on Daemon being very private and needing his space. He has never allowed you into his personal library, either. Says you would ruin the books.

You have never minded it. You understand your place here, the dumb young wife. Men never like thinking the woman they are with can be more interesting than them. To think you can also have an interest in books, apart from being frivolous, would be too much for him to handle.

The warning about the red door only registers to you as part of the games you usually play in the bedroom. Something he can punish you about later on, something that might excuse a round of rough lovemaking.

But his expression turns into a frightening mask of utter rage. He pinches you in the thigh, and this time, it really hurts.

“Fuck!” You cry out, fighting his hold. His grip has turned from the sweetest chains into unforgiving iron around your hips. You cannot move. Not even as he slaps your thigh, hard enough to make your eyes water. “Daemon, what the..?”

“I mean it.” He is cruel about it, slapping again the stinging flesh. “I do not want you in there. If you disobey, I’ll know.”

You stare at him, open-mouthed, You cannot comprehend how fast he has flipped, from kind lover to whatever this is. The rogue Prince is mercurial, you think, echoing the letter your father had once written complaining about him, his moods dangerous.

“Fine!” You cry out, desperate to evict this creature that has taken sudden hold of your husband’s body. “Fine! No opening the red door.”

Daemon softens then. His shoulders slump, and his face goes back into a mask of devotion.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” He presses a kiss to your thigh, to the place he slapped. You tense. “It is dangerous for you. Like the Moondoor in The Eyrie.”

Yet, as his touch turns back into loving, you do not forget. There is something about what lies beyond that red door that turns him into a monster. A creature capable of hurting even you.

You intend to find out what it is.

THE FORTNIGHT SPENT with Alicent is by far, the best of your life. Runestone is grand, with intricate tapestries and artwork decorating the walls. Your sister has always loved art, and the time spent surrounded by beautiful things seems to rejuvenate her.

Her pregnancy appears to be easy and without fuzz. There is no nausea preventing her from having as many lemon cakes as you two wish, or from exploring the Vale’s markets, trying on dresses and tasting expensive food.

The money Daemon has left you is enough to fund your shopping sprees. You have so much fun, running in the halls and trying on dresses, it feels as if you are little girls again. The only thing missing from your childhood is Gwayne.

So you send for him.

Despite how much joy your time spent with your sister brings you, you cannot shake the thought about the red door.

It is situated in one of the towers, near the place where Daemon keeps his books. You pass by it daily, for Alicent’s rooms have been placed in the same tower. Housing a Queen is no easy task, much less when she carries the heir to the Iron Throne inside her. She had come with servants and guards, who had to be housed too. There was no space but that tower.

That tower. Each time you pass it, you have to clench your fists hard to stop yourself from reaching towards it. Every time you open a door, your hands linger on the only key you will never use.

What lies behind the red door? What can possibly upset your husband such and change him from a careless hedonist into a violent man?

When no one is near, you kneel by the door and try to look through the keyhole. The lock on the door is old and smells faintly of iron. The only thing you can see looking through the keyhole is rust.

Trying to look under the door gives you the same results. Rust and iron, and a nagging curiosity that will not leave you alone.

You try to forget about it. You owe obedience to your husband, and you remember all too well the tale of the woman who owned a jar that should never be opened. It had been a favorite of your father during your youth.

A wife must never pry. For she might find something she doesn’t like.

Yet, when you think of Daemon grabbing you hard enough to bruise, you realize you already have found something you do not like. It is that thought what helps you make up your mind. One afternoon, when Alicent claims to be too tired to keep you company, you decide to open the door.

Your hands are slick with sweat, and shaking so much it takes you two tries to fit the key into the keyhole. Your heart feels like it will leap out of your chest. Suddenly, you are paralyzed.

You cannot turn the key. Your hands have gone rigid. Your fear overwhelms you. What could possibly be in here, if not a terrible secret?

You turn it. The lock clicks, and the door gives with an ominous creak. You step inside, as careful as you can. The floor is slick and sticky. When you look down, your shoes and the hem of your gown are tinted red.

You scream. You turn towards the walls, only to find more blood. Bloodied rags, stains, a bloodied dagger. You begin to feel lightheaded. When you stumble towards a corner, you see her.

A corpse of a woman, hugging her knees to her chest. Her body is rotting, half of her face gone, but enough of it remaining so you can see that it has frozen in an expression of utter horror, much like your own. She wears a rune covered armor, and has several cuts all over.

This time, you fall down. The keys slip from your grip, and you scream so loud, you are sure you wake the whole castle.

The missing Rhea Royce.

“Good gods!” Alicent cries out, behind you. You stumble to your feet, terrified. She cannot see it. Daemon… Daemon was going to kill you both. “What is this? By the Seven, is that..?”

“He is going to kill me.” You say, wiping the blood clinging to your hands on your dress. You try to clean the keys as well, but the stain won’t come out. No matter how hard you try. “He’ll know.”

“He is not going to, we can go to the King, and I am sure there is…” Alicent sounds horrified. She lingers on the doorstep, already on her nightshirt. Her belly is barely beginning to show.

“Alicent!” You say, sharply. “He’ll know. You have to run, Alicent. He will kill us both.”

“And leave you to die?” Your sister sounds indignant. “I cannot. You cannot…”

You cannot run, you wish to say. You cannot because if you do, Daemon will know even quicker, and chase you both. If you stay, maybe you can fool him. Or at least, give your sister a fighting chance.

“Please!” You cry. “Do it for the babe.”

Alicent’s lips turn white from the force she uses to keep them closed. She looks into your eyes, and hesitates. You fear she might not go through it.

“Go!” You cry, slipping on all the blood.

And Alicent, big brown eyes wide, hikes up her skirts and runs.

DAEMON NOTICES AS soon as he asks for the keys. You have never been a good liar, and the blood still stains them. When handing them over, you shake.

His smile drops. He no longer is the happy husband, but the creature that had frightened you the other night. The creature that had killed Rhea Royce, and took her lands.

“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” He grabs you by the neck, snarling.“I told you to leave it alone.”

Your pulse begins to race. You cannot speak, and you can only take shallow breaths. Your panic must show on your face because Daemon smiles at you, coldly. He squeezes a tad harder, enough to cut off your breath.

You gasp. It comes out more like a choked hiccup.

“Look at what you are making me do.” When you are starting to feel lightheaded, breath coming out in desperate wheezes, Daemon gives you a shove. “I never wanted to do this. This is all your fault.”

“You don’t have to kill me.” You plead, voice shaking. “I’ll keep your secret.”

Daemon looks at you, and laughs.

“I assure you, I have not gotten away with it this long because I believe every pretty thing telling me they will keep their mouths shut.”

Your eyes widen. The phrasing is strange. Every pretty thing…

“There had been others?” Daemon scoffs at your question, but doesn’t answer. You look into his eyes, and try pleading once more. At this point, tears are streaming down your cheeks. You are sure you make a very pathetic sight. “Just… Don’t kill me.”

“Good Gods. Are all Hightowers this dumb or is it you and Aliwhore?” Daemon grasps your face, roughly. You cannot believe your ears. Where is all this hatred coming from? It seems like the man you loved, the one that had courted you for endless summer days, is gone. All that is left is his profound hatred for you and your family. Had he only pretended not to hate you, and was showing his true colors now? “At least die with some dignity, you pathetic cunt.”

Dignity. Dignity could buy you time. You need it, to think of a way to survive.

“Allow me to pray, then. To make my peace with my death.”

Prayer wasn’t your strong forte. But you guessed you could possibly buy an hour with it. You had never been as devout as your siblings, but you could pretend well enough to fill the time as you tried to make your own miracle happen.

Daemon studies your expression closely. He tilts your head up and down, and then gives you a patronizing little pat on the cheek.

“Fine.” He spits out. “Pray. Only a few minutes, not a second more.”

You walk past him, intent on going back to the tower where a statue of the Mother stands. You watch his face carefully when you pass by him, worried he is only toying with you and has no true intention of allowing you to pray in solitude. But he doesn’t stop you.

You make your way to the highest tower, kneel by the feet of the statue and weep. Your weakness only lasts you a moment because when you lift your gaze, you catch sight of a green standard approaching the gates.

Could that be..?

“Are you done?” Daemon asks, from behind the closed door. You can hear the drag of steel against steel, and picture him in your mind’s eye. Taking Dark Sister out of her sheath, face full of bloodlust.

“Just a minute more.” You beg, watching the rider stop at the gates and being allowed in by the guards. “Don’t kill me, please! Not yet!” You cry out, as loud as you can, hoping your voice carries.

Daemon bursts in, Dark Sister held by his side. His smile is cold, his face the image of calm. One would never guess he is about to kill someone by watching his expression. You notice the dagger he carries at his hip, but do not dare to try to take it. Not when Dark Sister’s reach is much longer.

“Oh, spare me the hysterics. More prayer will not spare you.” He lunges at you, and you evade him, but there are only so many places one can run to in a small room. Daemon catches you by wrapping your braid in his hand, giving you a harsh tug that makes you tumble down. You scream.

“Shut up. Seven Hells, quiet.” Daemon places the sword at your throat. “You will…”

The door is thrown open by a kick, the loud bang startling him and making his grip falter.

“She will do nothing.” Gwayne says, firmly. You can see Alicent standing behind him, wrenching her hands together. You have never been more grateful to see them. “Or I’ll gut you like a fish.”

“Oh?” Daemon shoves you. You do not fight his push, laying limply on the floor. He turns towards Gwayne, sword no longer focused on you. “You think you can beat me, boy?”

Gwayne cannot. He had lost to him in a tourney not even six months before. You do not hesitate. You grab the dagger at Daemon’s hip and stab him in the stomach, hard. And you do it again, and again, until your hands and face are covered in blood, and Daemon does no longer move.

You look up at your siblings, then. Alicent’s face is horrified, but when she senses your eyes on her, she smooths down her expression. Gwayne watches with vague interest. At some point, he seems to have taken Dark Sister from Daemon’s hand because he now holds it.

The three of you stare at each other. The blood on your hands is rapidly cooling and turning sticky. You wipe your hands on your dress.

You had thought you would feel something if you killed another person. Instead, you only feel numb. Empty. Daemon is gone, and so are his things. His kisses, his threats, the monster that lurked beneath.

It’s Alcent who first speaks, face pale. “The red room. We need to get to work.”

By the end of it, it is as if he never came home at all. The three of you hug, on the brink of tears. Another string tied you now, beyond the sibling bond. The man you had murdered, and the duty to forget him.