#but i can lead a horse to water but i can’t make it drink. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lunajay33 · 1 month

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Save a Horse🍂

Summary: Wandering around in the apocalypse was hell until you came across a a ranch, finding a injured horse you helped it finding the owner and things getting a little heated with an older cowboy

Pairing: Cowboy Negan Smith x f!reader

Warning: Age gap, reader is in 20s Negan is mid 40s, p in v, praise, virginity lose

Inspired by @lanadelnegan stories🤎

•Masterlist•

The apocalypse hit and everything happened so fast, I was with my family at our farm for some time watching the news, listening to the horror stories on the radio, we thought that we could go unscathed since we hadn’t been affected and that all the food and water we needed was on our land but all that changed one night when a hoard of walkers ran down our farm, my parents were first trying to fight of the walkers, quickly being ripped apart their screams still lingered in my head whenever I thought about them, then it was my two sisters trying to flee but got surrounded taking them down as well, I was lucky enough to get to my truck finding an opening in the walkers and driving away from my home, leaving me all alone on the road

Now it’s been 2 years going from place to place just trying to survive, to find a reason to keep living in this cruel world, I’ve been able to dodge as many walkers as I can, that wasn’t the main problem anymore, the food shortage was what dwindled my hope

My truck had broke down a while back so now I’ve just been wandering on foot, walking through the trees trying to get some shade from Georgia summer heat when I hear a groan and thud, I follow the direction of the whines on a left of what have might caused it, walkers, people, god knows what now a days

Rounding a tree I see a horse laying down on the ground, I approached slowly not wanting to spook it having experience with horses back on the farm, kneeling in front of it petting its soft black mane

“Hey girl, what are you doing out here all alone?” She didn’t look injured she was laying down fine, maybe she just got hot it was one of the hottest days I’ve ever lived in even in Georgia

I took out one of the bottles of water I found poring some of it over her face to help cool her down then poring the rest in a bowl I had in my bag and she was quick to drink it

After some time I stood up taking her lead rope trying to get her to stand up, I couldn’t leave her here all alone for some walkers to eat her alive maybe she came from somewhere near by

Walking through the trees she would occasionally change our course more like she was leading me than I was her until we got to a break in the trees, a ranch in perfect condition, a few horses grazing the field, little sheep’s hoping around, a chicken coop and a cozy little cabin like house right in the middle of the land, a brown bronco truck parked out front

Opening the gate, closing it behind me and the horse so the other animals wouldn’t get out like she did somehow, when a deep voice stopped me in my tracks

“See ya brought Missy back, been wondering where she went off to” coming down the porch steps was a older man, cowboy hat, white shirt, blue jeans and boots, maybe it was the lack of human contact or even interactions but damn was he fine, I didn’t realize he was right infront of me till he cleared his throat breaking me out of my oogling

“Oh yeah, I found her out in the woods she must had heat exhaustion so I gave her some water” my stomach feels like it’s in knots, I haven’t felt like this in so long, he’s said a few words and I’m entranced by him

“A nice and pretty girl might just have to keep ya around darling” he smirked making my knees weak, but I still have my values I’m not just going to jump his bones even though the urge is so strong

“Oh I mean if you’re able to take me in I’ll earn my keep, help around the farm, anything I just…..I can’t stay out there alone any longer” I said praying he’d give me a chance, some hope

“Ya sure you know what you’re doing around a farm?” He asked as he looked me up and down, lingering on my chest

“I grew up on a farm, I know what I’m doing”

“Hmmm well come on in, see where you can stay” I let Missy go so she could run off with the others, following him inside, it was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, cute kitchen, wooden accents around the house, he kept walking down a hallways till he stopped at a room waiting for me to go in first, it was cozy, I don’t care if this place was trashy as long as I can be stress free and have someone to keep me company

“You like it?” He asked from the doorway

“I love it, thank you” I said as I sit on the bed letting out a long awaited sigh

“How long were you out there?”

“I don’t know time is hard to keep track of out there, maybe 2 years”

“Damn girl, 2 years did you atleast have someone out there?”

“My farm fell early taking my family with it when the walkers came, so it’s just been me until now”

He gave me a pitiful look it made the blood rush to my cheeks

“Come on darlin, supper should be done, should get some food in you” he said waving me out of the room and Im quick to follow him to the kitchen where I sit at the table as he dishes up some food, fresh food something I haven’t had in well forever it feels like

He sits across from me at the table taking his hat of showing his dark brown hair streaked with some grey, biting my lip to stop myself from fantasizing about running my hands through his hair, pulling on it as I feel his beard scratch against my legs

“So what’s your name darlin, like to call you something other than sweet names” he smirks obviously realizing my constant leering but he didn’t make it easy

“I’m fine with your little names but it’s y/n”

“You got a spark still considering how long you’ve been out there, how old are you even?”

“20 you?”

“Let’s just say I’m old enough to be your father”

“Not a problem for me” I said under my breath

A few weeks went by and I did what I said, working hard around the farm, waking up early to collect eggs from the chicken coop, feeding the horses and sheep, picking any ripe berries from the garden all before he was even up, no different from today, I laid berries on our plates and scrambled some eggs finishing right when he comes out of his room, scruffy hair, boxers and a black tank top showing off his tattoos, yes I earned my keep but the tension between us was growing stronger and stronger everyday, every touch, every long night of staying up talking I have to do something about it

“Morning Negan sleep well?” I asked as he sat across from me, our usual spots since that first day

“Great darlin, would’ve been better if you were next to me all night” he smirked, he’d do this tease me and act like it was nothing but it was something to me especially when I’d stay up late at night touching myself thinking of the things he’d say

“Negan you’re driving me crazy you know that” I said chomping on a strawberry

“You think I don’t hear you?”

“What?” My face flushed, please god don’t let it be what I think it is

“At night, when you think I’m fast asleep, I hear you moaning my name, whimpering when you can’t make yourself finish” he said his voice getting deeper as he leaned further across the table

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I gotta go……..go clean up the hay” I said flustered and completely embarrassed standing up and leaving the house to the barn

OH MY GOD this is so embarrassing, he’s heard me touch my self to him what is wrong with me, it’s only been a week and I can’t control myself, maybe because he’s everything I want, strong sexy makes my knees weak and panties wet, plus I have so much pent up sexual frustration, growing up on a farm and not being allowed to date led to me now, a horny 20 year old fantasizing about a man who generously gave me shelter and food, I’m a mess, a horny mess that wants to ride this man all day long

I get to the barn pitchforking any loose straw back into the pile trying to figure out what I’m suppose to do now, how do I face him again after he’s heard me moan his name

“I can hear your crazy thoughts from here darling” I look to the barn door seeing him dressed in blue jeans, cowboy boots, his cowboy hat and a brown plaid

“I can’t take it anymore Negan, obviously you know that now, please just……..”

“Just what baby?” He asks his voice deeper again as he gets closer gripping my waist, his hands alone engulfing me

“Just touch me”

He leans down grabbing the back of my thighs lifting me to straddle his hips, my arms wrapped around his shoulders now face to face

“You sure you can handle this sweetheart?”

“I need it, I need you to fuck me please I’ve been so good” I say as he litters my neck with sloppy kisses

“You have, such a good girl for me, guess you deserve a big reward for that” he smirks as he squeezes my ass, laying my down in the hay pile

“Fuck you got me so hard, you know how hard it was to not bust into your room hearing your sweet moans just begging for me to plow this pussy?” He grips the bottom of my sundress hauling it off over my head leaving me in just my panties, my tits completely exposed

Hearing him groan as his hands roam my body, from my hips up my stomach to caress my tits rubbing his thumbs over them making my panties even more soaked

“That feels so good, doesn’t feel like this *fuck* when I try” I whimper my body feeling like it’s on fire

“No one ever make you feel good darling?” He says as he leaves kitten licks against my nipples feeling like lighting shooting from them to my clit, trying to grind against his thigh between my legs

“No, no one’s ever…..”

“No ones ever touched you, you’re a virgin?” He continues to suck hickeys down my stomach stopping at the hem of my panties

“Only you” I moan needing more

“Don’t worry I’ll make you feel good baby” he removed everything he’d wearing going to throw his hat in the pile of clothes but is top him

“Stop!……keep it on”

“You like cowboys? Wanna take a ride?” He smirks as he pulls down my panties leaving us both naked

“I mean I did save your horse, it’s only right to ride the cowboy” I say as I flip him over to straddle his hips, his dick standing big thick and prominent, he’s really gonna stretch me out good

“Oh ya it’s only right” he laughs squeezing my hips hard as he helps me move them back and forth grinding on his dick getting it wet

“I need it please”

“Take your time darling” he says as he lifts me up so I’m hovering right above him feeling his tip gently pushing against me

I slowly push down feeling the pressure and stretch, it hurt god it was way bigger than my two fingers

“Fuck baby you’re so tight” he grunts

“Is it…….is it all in, you’re so big I don’t know if I can take much more” I moan uncontrollably, all this sexual frustration finally breaking free

“Just a little more, come on be a good girl and take it” he helps push me down the rest of the way till I feel his skin flush against my clit

I sigh I relief that I got it all in but the sting isn’t pleasant

“Take your time cowgirl, wanna get you nice and stretched before you try and ride your cowboy” he laughs as he sits up kissing my neck again and rubbing my clit to help distract the pain

“God I can’t wait” I say gripping his shoulders as I start moving up and down, slowly at first feeling him deeper and deeper each time

“Fuck baby this pussy is gonna be the death of me” I take his hat putting it on holding it with one hand just like I would when riding a mechanical bull, bouncing and gyrating fast and harder and deeper feeling him hit that spot where it makes me see stars and screaming his name over and over as I feel that tension build up in my lower stomach

“Come on cowgirl, cum on my dick, make yourself cum, let it out” he says meeting my thrusts over and over driving even deeper

My hearing goes fuzzy feeling like my whole body is lit up with pleasure, it’s never felt this good before doing it by myself, soon feeling a warm liquid shoot up inside me, dripping down in between us making a sticky hot mess

Coming back down to earth from that mind blowing orgasm I feel his hands roaming up and down my back, his chest pressed against mine

“Did I do it right” I moan biting my lip slowly grinding on him

“Damn darling, that was the best fuck of my life, yeah you did it right, look great doing it to, could get us to this” he says laying back in the hay hands behind his head

I sat up feeling him slide out whining when he popped out his cum dripping onto the hay as I lean down against his chest

“I want more”

“Damn baby girl, they were right good girls really are the most frustrated”

We spent the rest of the day in the barn, him taking me in every position imaginable, everyone better than the last until we were exhausted and my pussy ached so good

“Glad you found my horse that day”

“Me too Negan”

I want this man desperately damn, I’m newish to writing this kind of story so if you got any tips lmk

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woadisme · 2 years

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dustin. why are you not sharing your curl routine with the wheeler kids. pls. they are struggling. they need you.

#dustin henderson #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #dustin has wonderful hair #yk i bet it’s one of those classic ‘u can lead a horse to water but u can’t make it drink’#very sad

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babyblue711 · 2 months

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Surrender

(Modern AU) Aegon II Targaryen x Female!Reader x Aemond Targaryen - Part 2 (read Part 1 Here) Summary: Having spent the week at the Targaryen's countryside estate, you find yourself pulled into an unexpected tryst when Aemond confronts you about your mixed signals. Words: 5K

Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, Language, Alcohol, Threesome, Lots of Sexual Shenanigans A/N: As requested by popular demand, here is Part 2! I think this was the most fun I've ever had when writing a fic. (And please, for the banner, let's pretend Ewan has one eye for Aemond's sake 😅) I hope you all enjoy! 🔥

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Various forms of tension now fill the house and you can’t help but feel responsible. There is a magnetic attraction that lingers in the air between you and Aegon, but your playful text to Aemond had clearly not been well-received; he had never bothered responding and was now resolutely ignoring you. In return, you mirrored his behavior, determined not to let it affect you.

On Sunday morning, Helaena approaches you with an enticing offer: to extend your stay for the entire week. With your laptop in tow, the prospect of working remotely from their opulent estate is exciting, especially since it means you can continue spending time with Aegon.

Luckily, neither Helaena nor Daeron knows about your hookup with him. For the rest of the week, he visits your bed each night and it is the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. He’s a generous lover, prioritizing your pleasure before his own and his attentiveness afterwards is always exceptional, although he never spends the full night with you. Mindful of Aemond’s text message, you try to tone down your lusty moans of rapture, but you still feel like he knows what’s going on regardless.

On the last full day before you are set to return to the city, you and Aegon make plans to go for another trail ride. However, after lunch he starts to complain of a stomach ache leading Aemond to step in and offer to take you riding instead. This unexpected turn of events leaves you feeling momentarily stunned, given Aemond has been doing a very good job pretending you didn’t exist up until that moment. Despite your reservations, you agree to Aemond's proposal, still feeling a little wary of his sudden change of heart.

“You can ride on Sunfyre this time,” Aegon groans from the couch, referring to his grey gelding, as you and Aemond head out the door.

At first you are unsure of what to expect, but soon find yourself embarking on another memorable riding adventure, only this time with Aemond. It quickly becomes apparent that he shares your love for horses and the great outdoors, if not even more passionately than his brother. You make a bit of small talk as you ride, but most of the time, the gentle plodding of your horses’ hooves and the swish of their tails are the only things that can be heard.

The day was hot and humid, though cooler in the shade of the woods along the trail. A few miles into your ride, you come across a babbling stream with crystal water and decide to stop to let the horses rest and take a much needed drink.

“Thank you for letting me ride Vhagar this week,” you say sincerely, taking a refreshing gulp of water from your canteen, “She’s a good horse.” Aemond offers a small smile, affectionately patting his mare on the neck.

“No problem,” he replies casually, “She seems to like you and, to be honest, she doesn’t warm up to most people. Typically bucks them off within a few minutes,” he glances up to gauge your reaction. “I figured that’s why Aegon had you take her out, so he could laugh when you fell off,” he adds nonchalantly as if he didn’t just throw Aegon under the bus.

Your expression falters briefly, causing you to second guess your perception of Aegon if what Aemond is saying is true but you quickly regain your composure.

“Fortunately, that didn’t happen,” you manage to say as Sunfyre starts to paw, splashing water everywhere and soaking your boots. You urge him from the stream before he decides to roll in the cool water and Aemond follows on Vhagar; you swear you think you see a small, smug smile tug on the corners of his lips.

As you head back home, the mood seems to lighten and you finally feel like you have a small breakthrough with Aemond. Unlike his brother, Aemond’s nature is more naturally reserved, but you are growing to appreciate his calm demeanor in contrast to Aegon's chaotic behavior. He isn’t as quick to laugh or make jokes either, but you manage to coax him into opening up by asking about his interests, particularly books. He eagerly shares insights into the history of the Targaryen family and their estate, keeping the conversation lively until you reach the barn.

You hand Sunfyre off to the attending groom once more, feeling hot and sticky from your ride, eager to get back to the house to take a cool shower. Aemond falls into step beside you.

“So you and Hel are headed back to the city tomorrow?” Aemond inquires casually.

“Yeah we are, have to get back to the grind,” you say with a sigh, a note of reluctance in your tone. The week spent away from the city, immersed in fresh air and nature, had been incredibly rejuvenating and you weren’t ready to leave just yet. Fortunately, Helaena is also your flatmate, and the prospect of returning to hectic city life isn’t as daunting when you have a familiar companion by your side.

“What are your plans?” you ask him in return, aware of his involvement in the family business and his regular trips to the city too.

“I have a flight to catch to New York tomorrow. Work trip. It’s always hard to leave Vhagar…” he trails off with a slight hedge to his voice and you sense he may have more to share, but something seems to be holding him back.

“Hmm,” you murmur noncommittally, letting the moment ride out, feeling if you were patient, he would speak. It works a little too well. He takes a deep breath before he begins.

“That text you sent a few days back…” he starts and your heart instantly leaps. Oh god, here we go, you think, now deeply regretting how shameless you had behaved in the moment.

“Did you mean it?” he asks curiously, catching you completely off guard. You had thought he was about to scold you and you certainly didn’t expect him to be inquisitive instead. Your previous words seem to swim in your mind: [Join us next time, then?]

Did he think you had been serious? You really had only meant it to tease. Regret bubbles in your stomach.

“I still hear you every night,” he says quietly, gently, not like a reprimand at all, and you continue to feel more unsettled with each passing moment. You blush, embarrassed that you were having this conversation in broad daylight with Aemond of all people.

“I’m sorry, Aemond, truly, I…I tried to be more quiet…” you stammer, trailing off as he takes you by the arm, turning you to stop and face him. You stare up into his crystal blue eye, so much lighter than his brother’s, noticing how much taller he is than Aegon too. Up close, his beauty is so breathtaking, the leather eyepatch that covers his left eye only serves to complement his perfect appearance and intrigue you further. Aemond never spoke about what happened to his eye and you were too intimidated to ever ask.

“It’s not that,” he cuts you off abruptly. “Your offer, did you mean it?” he asks more insistently and you feel like you could shrink under the intensity of his stare. Did you really want to have a threesome with him and Aegon? Cowardly, you opt to take the easy way out.

“It would be up to Aegon, I suppose,” you manage to choke out, feeling confident that Aegon would never agree. The way he possessively devours your body, like he is trying to consume your very being when you are together makes you think he isn’t the type to share.

Aemond nods, seeming satisfied with that answer as he abruptly resumes walking back to the house and you can barely keep up with his long strides. What the hell was that about?

Feeling refreshed from your cold shower, you open your bathroom door, still wrapped in only a towel to see Aegon sprawled across your bed, giving you a calculated stare. Your heart skips a beat at his unexpected presence in your bedroom and he has a look in his eye you don’t think you’ve seen before.

“So,” he says lightly and gets right to the point, “You want to have a threesome with Aemond?”

You gape like a fish out of water as you backtrack. “I - I didn’t say that. Aemond mentioned it to me on the way back to the house,” you mumble, trying not to feel like you’re in trouble.

“Oh really?” he raises an eyebrow, glancing down at his phone, scrolling as if he’s looking for something, “What’s this then?”

He holds out his phone and shows you a screenshot of the message you had sent to Aemond earlier in the week, inviting him to join you and Aegon. Aemond clearly has shown Aegon proof of your “offer”, the traitor. Clearly, your lighthearted jest has taken an unexpected turn and signals have been crossed between these two brothers.

Aegon cannot contain a look of triumph as your guilty eyes flash back to his face. Before you can explain more thoroughly he smirks, “I didn’t know you were also into my brother…”

“Aegon, it was just a joke, I was teasing him,” you try to clarify your intentions and prove you aren’t trying to hide anything, now thoroughly wishing you had been this direct with Aemond too. You didn’t foresee it coming back to haunt you like this.

“Really? Because that’s not what Aemond said,” Aegon counters, “So do you want to? It would be hot watching my brother fuck you,” he adds provocatively and your breath catches in your chest at his words.

So many emotions whirl through your mind in an instant. Shock. Guilt. Bewilderment. Confusion. Hurt that he would give you up so easily to another man. Excitement. Lust. Desire. Simultaneously, another thought tugs at your heart: a mixture of determination and defiance. You had been so sure that Aegon would be the one to tell Aemond ‘no’ and you were starting to question his attachment to you, if indeed there had been one at all. If he was so willing to share you with someone else, perhaps you should make him regret this decision. The thought of making Aegon insanely jealous ignites a spark of mischief within your chest.

“Fine,” you say coolly, lifting your chin. “I’d love to fuck your brother,” you taunt seductively, pretending not to care more deeply about Aegon than you do and deliberately trying to push his buttons, but Aegon only gives you a devilish grin.

“Brilliant. I’ll tell him then,” and with that, he springs off your bed, his earlier stomach ache seemingly forgotten, and bounds out the door in search of Aemond.

You were a nervous wreck the whole rest of the day. What had you just agreed to? You curse your need for revenge on Aegon.

That evening, you opt to quietly observe Aemond, feeling a need to familiarize yourself with the person that you would soon be sleeping with. While Aegon could be abundantly charming when he wanted to be, Aemond was simply grace incarnate. You pay particular attention to his interactions with each sibling: he is tolerant of Aegon’s antics, patient with the youthfulness of his younger brother, Daeron, and generously kind to his sister, listening to her discussions about various bugs with genuine interest, as if her words are the most interesting thing in the world. Coupled with his ethereal beauty, you start to question that Aemond might actually be the better of the two brothers. Boyfriend material flashes through your mind.

At last, you bid the group goodnight for the evening and retire to your room. As soon as you shut your door, you sprint to the bathroom, rushing to brush your teeth, apply more deodorant and fix your hair, trying to make yourself as presentable as possible for perfect, proper Aemond. You aren’t sure why you were doing this; why do you care what Aemond thinks of you so much?

Finished with your “prep”, you put on your usual pajamas, wishing you had brought something a little sexier than an oversized t-shirt and shorts and sit on your bed to wait. Soon a soft knock comes from your door and you know instantly it’s Aemond. Aegon never knocks.

“Come in!” you manage to squeak out, voice unusually high, feeling nervous. Aemond enters, looking entirely unruffled, carrying something behind his back. He approaches the bed and reveals his surprise, holding out an expensive bottle of champagne.

“I figured there’s no hurry,” he remarks casually with a shrug as he opens the bottle and takes a gulp, handing it to you. Feeling a bit unconventional drinking expensive champagne straight from the bottle, you take a sip, enjoying the tangy liquid that runs cool down your throat.

You both sit in the middle of your large bed facing each other, talking softly while taking turns swigging from the bottle. Soon, you find yourself relaxing and enjoying his company, forgetting that Aegon was supposed to be joining you. You didn’t even wonder where he was.

When the bottle is empty, you start to feel properly tipsy as Aemond lays a large, warm hand on your leg. You stiffen instantly, unable to help yourself, glancing up into his intense, one-eyed stare.

“I just want to ask, one more time, if you’re sure you want to do this,” he says with soft sincerity.

This is it. Your way out. You didn’t have to sleep with Aemond. However, you were finding yourself more and more drawn to him as you discovered his admirable traits. You believed deep down that Aemond was genuinely kind, one of those "nice guys," so to speak. Moreover, defiance still pounds in your heart at the thought of making Aegon jealous, if he decided to show up at this point.

“Yeah, I want to Aemond, truly,” you respond genuinely, placing your hand overtop of his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He nods and seems to relax, his sensuous mouth curling into a true smile.

“Should we start without him?” you whisper, alluding to Aegon.

“Yeah, fuck him, I’m not waiting,” Aemond replies boldly before grabbing you by the ankle and pulling you across the bed so you’re right next to him. You slide easily on the soft satin comforter and giggle in delight. Aemond’s lips meet yours and you sigh into his mouth as you melt into him immediately.

Aemond's kiss ignites a fire within you; while you considered Aegon a skilled kisser, a few moments with Aemond had you wondering who was better. His kiss is effortless, your lips fitting together flawlessly, his gentle tongue playfully exploring your mouth, as you take turns sucking on each other’s bottom lip. You moan softly as you instinctively grasp his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. Already you can feel your core getting slick with desire and an ache forming at the apex of your thighs.

Aemond maneuvers you to lay on your back and settles overtop of you, lightly pressing you under his weight and you surrender once more to a new man, but this one you think might be more worthy than the last. Still clothed, you are fully immersed in battling his tongue when you hear a low whistle.

“You fuckers started without me,” Aegon growls, low and deep, and you jump, startled since you hadn’t heard him come in. You break the kiss with Aemond, turning to look at Aegon standing beside the bed, seeming completely unfazed seeing his younger brother on top of the girl he’s been fucking all week. Aemond ignores him completely as he kisses your exposed neck, pretending like there’s been no interruption. You notice Aegon is holding his own bottle of champagne and a bag of popcorn, now grinning like a barn cat that has just caught the biggest mouse; he moves to sit in the corner and waves his hand for you to continue.

You roll your eyes and return your attention to Aemond, who is now sucking a hickey onto your collarbone. You decide to get things moving before you lose your nerve now that you have an audience. You slide Aemond's shirt off, taking a moment to appreciate the contours of his fit physique by tracing your fingers across his chest and along the defined muscles of his back. It's almost like a choreographed dance as you and Aemond smoothly help each other out of your clothes, moving with such synchronized ease that it feels like you're perfectly attuned to each other.

As you remove his shorts, his cock springs free, large and heavy against his thigh. Taking him in hand, you give him a few experimental pumps, making him grunt appreciatively; you find yourself absentmindedly wondering who is bigger, the Targaryen men are clearly blessed in this particular department.

You try to ignore the sounds of Aegon chewing popcorn as you and Aemond settle back onto the bed, completely unclothed now. Aemond doesn’t seem to mind being naked in front of his brother and you take his lead as your heart flutters nervously, still mindful of having a witness. He bites down onto the fleshy part of your breast, sucking with enthusiasm and you don’t even care about the mark you know it’ll leave. He moves on and takes one of your nipples into his mouth next, rolling the other between his fingers as he works his way down your body, finally settling between your thighs and licking your soaked pussy like a lollipop; you both groan with pleasure. You spread your legs wide for him and start to knead your own breasts, putting your body on display for Aegon, feigning more confidence than you felt in the moment. You glance over and see him watching you and Aemond hungrily.

Aemond’s lips lock around your bud and he sucks harshly causing you to buck your hips into his face and cry aloud, your breath picking up as pleasure courses like electricity through your body. You feel him slip a finger inside of you followed by another and he crooks them against your sweet spot all while continuing to suck on your bud like he is trying to slurp the thickest milkshake.

It’s not long before your thighs are shaking around his head as you wail in ecstasy, your orgasm ripping through your core, pussy clenching tightly down onto Aemond’s fingers. You no longer notice Aegon’s presence and you secretly hope he’s burning with jealousy at the way Aemond is unraveling you thoroughly. Aegon clears this throat as you come down from your high and return to your senses.

“I want her on top, Aemond,” he commands from the dark corner of the room. You think Aemond will refuse as he isn’t the type that usually takes orders, and especially not from Aegon, but he lays on his back and positions you to hover above him. Achingly slow, still sensitive from your climax, you spear yourself on his hard, thick cock, sinking inch by delicious inch, savoring the stretch of your soft velvet walls. You breathe through your nose as you try to relax and welcome Aemond into your body, joining as one.

You both groan in unison when you finally sit flush against him, his cock buried deep. He gives you a moment to adjust and lets you set the pace. Knowing Aegon is seated behind you, you lean forward slightly, bracing your hands against Aemond’s chest, arching your back as you ride his cock, letting Aegon get the best view of Aemond’s thick length sliding in and out of your tight pussy, no longer feeling insecure about being watched. In this position, your sensitive bud rubs consistently against Aemond’s pubic bone and you can already feel another orgasm mounting deep in your belly. You toss your hair and moan loudly in pleasure, uttering filthy words to Aemond, knowing full well Aegon can hear you too. You want to leave him without any doubt just how much you are enjoying his brother.

Beneath you, Aemond looks like a fallen angel. His one eye is hooded and dark with lust, the angles of his exquisite face are sharp in the low light, his sensual lips are parted slightly as he pants softly while you move up and down on his length. His luminous blonde hair is splay out on the bed, creating a sort of halo around his head. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in your life.

Spurred on by your passionate words of lust, Aemond grasps your hips and picks up the pace, fingers digging into the soft flesh and you hope for bruises. Taking control, he fucks up into you from below, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. You start mumbling nonstop again, like you always do when you’re about to cum.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my cock, sweet girl?” Aemond says in a low growl as he watches your tits bounce above him.

“A-Aemond, don’t stop,” is all you can manage as your peak crashes over you with the force of a hurricane and Aemond groans as your pussy tightens like a vice around him. He rides out your climax, sustaining your pleasure as you soar into oblivion. Finally, feeling like jelly, you topple off of Aemond and onto the soft bed, breathing heavily and trying to recover from your second mind-blowing orgasm.

“My turn,” suddenly, Aegon stands on the edge of the bed, totally naked and stroking his hard, thick cock. Now that the two are visually out for comparison, you think Aemond’s might be a tad longer, but they are both just as thick.

Your brain feels fuzzy, swirling with endorphins from the rush of your climax. Despite your haze, excitement pulses through your chest when you see that Aegon has finally come to play, hoping he got tired of watching Aemond fuck you so thoroughly. Although being with two men at once is entirely new territory, you trust them completely to take care of you properly and not abuse their positions of power. With a new sense of confidence, adrenaline surges through your veins and you decide to take charge.

“Lay on the bed,” you direct at Aegon and he obeys you instantly, climbing onto the bed and laying his head on your pillow. You crawl over to him, swaying your hips seductively and meeting his dark blue gaze.

“So, did you enjoy watching that?” you purr innocently while taking his cock in your hand and squeezing.

“More than you know,” he manages to respond before you lower your head and take him in your mouth. Maintaining eye contact with him, you put on a bit of a show as your tongue teases the sensitive tip.

Realizing Aemond is watching from afar, you look over your shoulder at him while continuing to pump Aegon with your other hand. You consider him for a moment, impressed with his endurance as he still hasn’t cum himself, despite riding out your orgasm while buried deep within your body.

“Aemond, I need you too,” you whine, tossing your hair over your shoulder and bringing your ass in the air, giving him a pointed look; his lips lift in a devilish smirk.

As Aemond comes to kneel behind you, there is a kinetic sort of energy that passes between the brothers as their eyes meet and you feel a shift as the energy in the room suddenly becomes charged. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and you aren’t entirely sure why; all you know is that you suddenly feel like a lamb caught between two apex predators. Undaunted, the thought makes you chuckle; Aemond has already begun to pick you apart with absurd precision and you feel ready for more.

You take Aegon into your mouth again as you feel Aemond spread your ass cheeks apart with a firm grip, taking a moment to admire the view before re-entering you from behind, moving slowly to help you adjust to this new angle. You moan in pleasure as Aemond’s cock hits your sweet spot perfectly in this position. Aegon grunts as your moans reverberate around his dick and you hear him whisper “yeah, that’s it,” as your head bobs along his thick length. With one hand wrapped around the rest of Aegon’s girth that you can’t fit into your mouth, the other grips his thigh, trying to hold yourself steady as Aemond’s hips snap roughly into your backside.

“She really does have the most perfect cunt, brother,” Aemond rumbles, grunting in appreciation as he watches his fat cock slide in and out of you, glistening with your arousal. “You were right.”

“I told you she could be our perfect little slut,” Aegon groans in agreement and gives you a dark smile. You try to ignore the fact that they are talking about you like you aren’t even there. Despite your senses being fully enveloped in a primal sort of lust, you feel a small prick of unease. How much did they discuss about you before today? Have they planned this all along?

You hardly have time to consider further before Aegon takes you by the hair and earnestly starts to fuck your mouth, spit dribbling down your chin as he thrusts in and out. You hollow out your cheeks and try your best to take him, choking at times as his cock touches the back of your throat, all while Aemond continues a steady pace fucking your pussy from behind. Tears prick your eyes and Aegon wipes them away with his thumb, murmuring “good girl” softly and encouraging you to keep going. You watch as his abs contract in pleasure as your tongue swirls around the sensitive tip; you find it becoming more difficult to focus on Aegon as Aemond brings his hand around and starts to play with your bud, rubbing tight, fast circles. Your breath is caught in your chest and you let out a sultry moan.

For a moment, all that can be heard is heavy breathing, grunts of pleasure, skin slapping erotically, and a juicy sucking noise from your mouth as your orgy progresses. With Aemond’s expert attention on your bud, your walls start to flutter again and you redouble your efforts to suck off Aegon, determined that you both should cum at the same time; his breathing is becoming labored and you know he’s close. Within a few more moments, the three of you climax together in unison; Aegon grunts as his girth pulses in your hand, shooting his seed down your throat just as Aemond’s cock pumps his into your pussy, emptying deep inside you. He gives your ass a hard slap and you wail once more as mind numbing pleasure courses through your belly as your pussy milks Aemond dry.

Swallowing your mouthful, you collapse, exhausted, onto the bed next to Aegon, completely worn out by your third orgasm. Aegon pants softly beside you and Aemond plops down on your other side, the only one to still seem composed despite the sheen of sweat on his chest from his own exertion.

The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence as your breathing returns to normal. Aegon rolls to his side and captures your lips between his own. You think he’s just giving you a sweet sort of kiss as a “thank you” for a great time, until he takes your leg and swings it over his hip, reaching down and playing with your sensitive bud. You buck you hips away from his hand and whine pathetically, telling him without words that you are almost too sensitive to touch at this point. He shushes you gently and you feel him reach down to your entrance and gather Aemond’s spend that’s leaking from your pussy, bringing it up and circling your bud with a featherlight touch.

You feel Aemond move until he’s spooning you from behind, trapping you. He brushes your hair to the side as he starts to pepper your neck and shoulder with kisses while his large warm hand caresses your back, moving down to squeeze the ample flesh of your ass. Despite your exhaustion, you feel yourself getting aroused again at their attention. Aegon’s skin is burning as you lay facing him, chest to chest, and Aemond is just as hot against your backside. You feel caught between two flames, like you could catch fire entwined around the brothers.

Aegon continues to kiss you slowly, circling your bud, your leg still hooked over his hip when you feel another set of digits come to play at the entrance of your pussy. You flinch slightly, but Aemond doesn’t enter you digitally, instead seeming to gather more fluid on his fingertips. Without warning, you jump when you feel him spreading his spend on your asshole. Aemond hushes you sweetly, kissing right below your ear, as he starts to push ever so gently on your puckered hole.

“Come now,” Aegon whispers against your lips, “You didn’t really think we would be done with you already, did you?” His hand moves up to tightly grip your thigh around his hip, holding you in place as Aemond slowly starts inserting a digit into your ass, causing you to moan and arch your back, unfamiliar with this new intrusion.

“Hmm,” Aemond hums appreciatively, nibbling on your earlobe as Aegon watches your face. The pressure is mounting as Aemond pushes his thumb into your ass and realization dawns that they are far from finished with you. They aren’t going to stop until every last bit of you is sore from stretching around their thick cocks repeatedly; their intention to possess you both at the same time becomes abundantly clear as Aemond works to open your tight puckered hole and you know they’ll continue to cover your body in bite marks, hickeys, and bruises, effectively marking you as their own. They haven’t even begun to truly consume you yet.

“Yes, sweet girl,” says Aemond, an authoritative edge to his tone, “We’re just getting started.”

The story continues in Part 3

Tags: @rhaenyslay, @elizarbell, @aemondsscar, @peonamay, @cyeco13, @quinnquinn317, @multyfangirl, @myfandomprompts, @thekinslayed, @pandemonium105, @fan-goddess, @vencuyot

#modern!aemond x reader #modern!aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #hotd #ewan nation #tom glynn carney #aegon smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon fanfic #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #modern au aegon

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ghouljams · 9 months

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More 1870s Cowboy!Ghost, I saw someone cosplaying his gunslinger skin and lost my mind just a little

Life is quiet here. The sky is wide and blue, the grass is just on the yellow side of green, and the women are as pretty as they are quick with a gun. Well, just the one. Ghost swings off his horse to lead her the rest of the way to the barn.

“Hey, pretty boy!” You call from the back door, “Come have a drink when you finish up.” He’s still not used to the way your smile makes his heart jump. The genuine fondness behind it. Pretty boy. He wouldn’t let anyone else get away with calling him that, just you. You get away with a lot of things.

Most recently it’s been this. A spare drink to drown out the still uncaught bounty. Never mind that he’s hardly trying anymore. There’s hardly time for it with all the work you have him doing. Work he hardly minds when it’s you asking for it. He likes the animals, likes the warm soil of the garden, likes looking over his shoulder to see you going about your own work. Shaking out sheets as you take them off the line or twisting ripe squash from the vine, the way you brush your hand up the back of your neck to wipe away the sheen of sweat, you’re gorgeous. Ghost’s never seen anyone like you.

He takes his time unburdening his horse, putting away tack, checking her stall has food and water. Steeling his nerves. It’s becoming harder and harder to ignore your sweet talk. Eventually he’ll find himself stuck in your honey. Then he can’t say what will happen. Maybe you’ll keep him.

Ghost touches the worn cotton of his mask; thinks of the scars under it, the scars under his skin. Maybe not.

You’re waiting by the back door when he finally makes his way back to the house. You offer a short glass of clear liquor. “You’ll get him tomorrow,” You tell him. Ghost can’t tell if you’re joking or serious. Your usual good humor makes it hard to gauge.

He pushes his mask up to his nose and takes the offered glass, clinking it against yours. You both tip your head backs, let the alcohol slide down your throats. Ghost sniffs, clears his throat against the residual burn. He checks his glass to be sure he got it all, and looks up to catch you staring at him.

“I got something on my face?” He jokes, voice flat as he wipes the wet edge of alcohol off his lip with his thumb.

“No it’s just,” you tilt your head with a smile, “Every time I see you like this I can’t help wanting to kiss you.” Ghost stills, you’re forward but not this forward. “That’s probably silly of me,” your smile falls a little, and he can’t have that. He can’t have you losing hope, losing interest. You’re not supposed to be interested in the first place, but- but he wants you to keep it. Wants you to keep sweet talking him. You can’t give up and let him win. Not when he wants so badly to lose to you.

Ghost grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you to him, leaning down to bring your mouths crashing together. He catches a bit of your smile before you can pucker, a little bit of teeth before he kisses you properly. It's not a perfect first kiss, but it is perfect. You're perfect, so warm and sweet and soft. God you're so soft, how can anyone be this soft? Your lips cushion his and your warmth surrounds him in a way that can't just be physical. You part your lips, draw him in for another kiss and another, a slow slick glide of indulgence. His hand cradles your cheek, and it isn't the last drops of tequila he's savoring when you draw back. Stars, your smile could stop his heart. It nearly does.

Ghost tugs his mask back down over his lips to stop himself from kissing you again. Is he supposed to feel so, so giddy just from kissing someone? He can't push down the smile that bubbles up. Another good reason for the mask.

"I should-" you take a step back, make a noncommittal gesture with your hands. Ghost nods.

"Right, and I should-" he waves towards the barn, both of you smiling like fools for each other.

"Ok," even your voice is soft, so soft. He should kiss you again, he can still feel your lips against his.

"Supper," Ghost tells you, confirms with you. You nod, grip your skirt with giddy fingers.

"Six o'clock," God he wouldn't miss it for the world.

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost x oc #oc: goose #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley x reader #x oc #1870s!Cowboy #cowboy!ghost #gunslinger!Ghost

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edenaziraphale · 4 months

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When I first started reading xxxHolic I always wondered why Yuko lived the way she did- drinking constantly, smoking like a chimney, attitude like she’s got nothing to gain or lose from any of this-

And then as the series is approaching it’s end we find out there really is nothing. She’s dead, she should have died so so long ago and this existence that she’s trapped in is the closest to hell most people are ever going to get. She is lonely and probably in pain, and waiting for the day she knows is coming, the one which will right the wrongs that kept her alive in the first place. Yuko is waiting to finally be allowed to die.

She knows there’s important work to be done first. She knows there will be a beautiful but achingly sad little boy, as lonely as herself, who has to be loved into reality, and that she needs to guide him toward the people who will help him survive, lest he disappear the same moment she does.

But the drinking, the smoking, the drama she can’t help but be blasé about- those are numbing. They’re distractions and they help to pass the time. At least she gets to leave, I thought. I can’t imagine what would happen if this were a stuck-in-a-tower kind of curse.

But we didn’t have to imagine, because we see it.

Watanuki takes up the mantle.

Yuko didn’t anticipate loving this boy. Most of that has been burned out of her by now, too tired to hope for anything but rest.

But she didn’t expect his eyes to be quite that big, that sad. And when she meets him and the power inside of her reaches (without her permission, as it has always been prone to doing) for a glimpse of his future, she’s struck by the sensation of emptiness. Of nothing. An apartment whose tenant the landlord can’t remember. A desk with no child inside. Anger. A boy whose dark eyes search halls for something he doesn’t know or understand. A family name which carries a legacy that Yuko remembers. Yuko worked so hard to will life into Watanuki, spent so long teaching him the selfishness and the tragedy of his own sacrificial self loathing. He didn't need to be a martyr, there was nothing he needed to die for. He was a casualty of a war that had nothing to do with him. She tried, over and over and over, to offer him a way out. I think all the time about how she must have felt knowing that Watanuki took on her imprisonment and compounded it, made it that much more intense, made it that much worse. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink. I wonder if it hurt.

#xxxholic #douwata #kimihiro watanuki #yuko #doumeki shizuka #holic tag #i really do think about this a lot LMAO

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fangsandfracturedhearts · 2 months

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Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 14: Devil's Ploy

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

You snort and blink rapidly to clear your nose of the fetid sulphuric odour burning the membranes of your nostrils, throat and eyes. In the cramped, dimly lit sewers, where the air doesn’t stir, the stench of it lingers and never seems to dissipate.

When your vision finally becomes unimpaired by burning tears, the cambion and her fire-red hair, horns bedazzled with chains of gold, is leering at you with a conniving expression that makes your stomach sink. You’ve seen this expression on her plenty of times when she was scheming and plotting.

“Gods above,” you hiss with a rasp to your voice. “What do you want, Mizora? I thought I was good and done with your kind.”

“And here I thought we had all become such good friends,” she titters, feigning cordiality terribly. “You always did have so much… spunk. I’m happy death still hasn’t taken your lovely little spark.”

“You can ask Raphael all about my spark,” you smirk. Vivid blue lightning crackles and buzzes over your fingertips. “Oh, wait. You can’t because I killed him for seeing me as no more than a little mouse, a pawn, and I will do the same with you if you think you can play games with me.”

“Oh-yes,” Mizora giggles, not one iota ruffled by your threats. “All nine Hells were positively astir with the news of his demise. He always was such a pompous and over-confident twat, not unlike your master, I suppose."

Master. Ugh.

“I would be lying if I said it was nice to see you again, Mizora. If you will excuse me, I have my prey to hunt, and you’ve made me lose its trail.”

You can’t hear or smell Elowyn anymore. She will be deep into the ruin by now, or worse yet, in the Crimson Palace itself, but you still don’t understand what use she would have of that place. There is nothing left there but closed cells full of rotting gore that can never be opened again since you made Astarion break Cazador’s quarterstaff - Woe. Insofar as you’re aware, that was the only key to controlling everything.

“A great pity you’re in such a rush, pet,” Mizora snickers. Gods, you hate being called “pet.” You almost growl, but you’re too preoccupied with the rising feeling of foreboding swishing around in your stomach. You know that laugh and dread what’s about to come out of her mouth next. “I was going to offer to assist your Vampire Ascendant with his little… problem, but I suppose if you don’t want help… well, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. Ta-ta!”

“Wait!” You snap, whirling around. You’re going to regret this. “Wait… What do you know of Astarion’s ailment?”

“I thought that might get your attention,” she smirks smugly. “Let’s make ourselves more comfortable, shall we? You may be accustomed to living in such filth, but I am decidedly not.”

Mizora snaps her fingers, fire bursts to life all around you, and then you’re in a grand sitting room with glitzy settees, lounges and chairs. Rugs made of creatures you’ve never seen before litter the floor. Some appear reptile-like with scaly hides, others plush furs, others with feathers and more with something you can only begin to describe as some form of cartilaginous exoskeleton. They look at you with glassy, dead eyes ashine in their long-dead sockets.

It’s stiflingly hot, and you peer out of double doors leading to the terrace and take in the landscape. In the distance, black, jagged mountains pierce the horizon with peaks wreathed in an eerie crimson mist. Brimstone and fire dance in a perpetual inferno bordering a river made entirely of lava or possibly blood. It’s hard to tell from this height. The air is acrid and clouded with volcanic ash, and the sky flickers reds and oranges as fireballs race through clouds of darkest black.

“Avernus,” Mizora gushes. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“I think I preferred the sewers,” you croak, wiping the sweat from your brow and going back inside. It does little to provide any comfort or liberation from the sweltering climate.

“Of course, sewer spawn,” she scoffs indignantly and drops unceremoniously onto a lounge. “It was your home for a little while. Wasn’t it? Until the Cleric and Wizard found you down there.”

“Have you been watching me this entire time?” You cross your arms and quirk a brow at her. “Do you have nothing better to do than derive pleasure from pain and suffering?”

“Oh, darling.” Her head falls back, and she laughs, “Of course! Who wouldn’t want to watch this little tragedy play out? It has been quite amusing thus far.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the show,” you bow sarcastically with a frown. “If you’re getting such a kick out of it, why are you meddling in my nightmare?”

“Sit. Won’t you?” She gestures toward the chaise. Mizora won’t tell you anything until you do as she asks. This is all part of her little game, after all. So, you sit with a roll of your eyes. “I would have been happy to watch until the vampire killed you, but alas, all good things must come to an end. Zariel and the other archdevils have other plans.”

Fuck. If another archdevil, or several, from the sounds of it, are getting involved, this is unlikely to be good. What got you here was another deal with an archdevil, but if there’s even a chance that something Mizora might tell you can give you somewhere to start, well, you can humour her.

“Which are?”

“Oh,” Mizora shrugs. “I don’t know, little lamb. I am merely a messenger.”

“Okay,” you comb your fingers through your sweat-dampened hair. She’s lying. You can see the hinting glint in her eyes. She knows more than she’s letting on. “Well, what is it you can tell me?”

The toothy, menacing smile that sidles across Mizora’s face should send you running. She sneers, “Tell me. What do you know of Mephistopheles?”

You shrug, “I know he is an archdevil, a rather powerful one. His domain is Cania. The Rite of Profane Ascension was a contract with him. Beyond that, I do not spend much time researching devils.”

“So, nothing then,” she pouts. “Well, allow me to enlighten you.”

Fire leaps to life in a circle, and Mizora’s eyes gleam with the keenness of a wild cat as you jump and get ready to defend yourself. Everything goes black except for the inferno burning around you.

As you watch the writhing blaze, depictions form in the leaping flames, moving against them. A towering devil with bright red skin, curling ram horns and massive bat-like wings jutting out from his back. He has an unnervingly charming smile, but it’s offset by cold, milk-white eyes that stare through you, making you shudder.

The figure paces around, muttering to himself and the empty grand halls around him. His eyes bounce around with feral neuroticism. He twitches, growls, hisses and waves his hand as if shooing away an annoying insect while snarling.

Abruptly, the fiery figure lets out a blood-curdling shriek and starts clawing at his skin, tearing gashes into himself until his skin is hanging in gruesome, dripping flaps from his arms and chest. Fire explodes in his palms, and he flings around bolts of Hellfire, instantly turning everything around him to ash. He pivots quickly and appears to be looking straight at you. He roars so loud you’re sure your eardrums have burst. He charges toward you with the ferocity of a rabid animal and a fireball barrels toward you.

Everything goes black, and you fall onto the floor by Mizora, who is snickering.

“What in the Hells was that?” You snap, getting up and getting in her face. You grab that fur collar in your hands and shake her, “What the fuck did I just witness?”

“Mephistopheles, for all his cunning and brilliance, is a deeply troubled individual. As you saw, he is neurotic and suspicious and often flies into fits of explosive and violent rage. Does that remind you of anyone?”

“… Astarion,” you breathe and stumble back. “Oh Gods…”

“Yes, pet.” Mizora nods with a fiendish cackle. “I can see you putting it all together. The Vampire Ascendant was an experiment of sorts. As you can imagine, these tendencies are not becoming of an archdevil. In an effort to rid himself of his neurotic temper, he needed a willing vessel to imbue with a portion of his nature. What better way to lure a willing participant than to offer unfathomable power?”

You collapse onto the chaise, wracking your fingers through your hair, “The Vampire Ascendant was nothing more than a way for Mephistopheles to offload his psychosis?”

Gods above. It makes so much sense. Astarion’s blind fits of rage. The voices in his head. The alternate version of him that sometimes takes control. You never got to see the whole contract. Did Raphael know about this and neglect to say it?

“But.” You add, looking at Mizora, “Astarion is himself some of the time.”

“Ah-yes,” Mizora snickers, glancing at her nails. “The vessel was never supposed to have an intact soul. It’s much easier to work with an empty cask than one that is already full, so to speak. A spawn was never supposed to usurp the ritual. I would say an oversight on Mephistopheles’ part, but truly, who could have imagined a spawn would get infected with a mind flayer tadpole that broke his master’s chains? Then, he just so happened to come upon a fine hero to help him. It’s all rather ludicrous sounding. Astarion’s soul is fractured but not completely eradicated. Well, not yet at least.”

“What do you mean not yet?”

“Think of it like this,” Mizora speaks to you slowly, as if you might not be smart enough to understand the metaphor slipping past her lips. “The entity is like an infection. It contaminates him, tainting everything from his thoughts, the platelets in his blood, to the marrow in his very bones, faster than his body can heal itself.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You’re starting to get suspicious. Where is the catch? The line she will hook you with?

“Can’t I just want to help out an old friend?” She pouts.

You glower at her and cross your arms, “No.”

“You were always so clever.” Mizora suddenly becomes serious, “Mephistopheles is a threat. Now that he is no longer burdened by his demons, he’s set his aspirations quite high. Too high for the liking of many of the archdevils. We would like to see him reunited with himself. It’s a very fine little deal. You get what you want to rid Astarion of the entity that’s eating him from the inside out, and we get to cage Mephistopheles back in the prison of his mind. A warning, pet. It will not be an easy road.”

“My life has never been easy. Why would it start now?” You sigh, “Tell me what needs to be done, and I will do it.”

“Such a good little spawn. Aren’t you? He’s killed you, tortured you, starved you, beat you, emotionally ruined you, and stolen your name, and you’re still willing to risk yourself to save him?” Mizora giggles, “I would say it was a true love story in the making were it not so fucking tragic.”

“What do you mean stolen my name?” You growl, cocking your head at her, “I have a name!”

“Oh,” she snickers, “Then tell me, pet. What’s your name?”

“My name…” You trail off, wracking your brain for the word. It’s right there, sitting precariously on the tip of your tongue. “My name… It’s… It’s…”

Mizora’s laughter is a haunting melody, a sinister cackle in a chilling symphony. That sound could freeze the blood of the bravest soul and make the earth tremble, “You can’t remember it. Can you?”

You replay old conversations in your head. You can see Shadowheart’s lips moving, but then there’s a sudden silence where all you hear is white noise even though she’s still talking. It’s the same with conversations with Gale, just white noise in the place where your name should have been.

Astarion stole your name from you… When did that happen, and why can’t you remember? What else has he stolen from you?

“What’s my name,” you swallow the thick odium that’s erected itself into your throat. You shriek, rage sweeping through you in a gust of hatred, “What my name, Mizora! Say it!”

Mizora smiles haughtily and speaks. You focus with every iota of your capacity, watching her lips move, but it is as you feared. Your ears hear nothing but the breathy whisper of silence, and your eyes seem unable to read the phonetics on her lips.

You’re his darling. His sweet girl. His precious treasure. His consort. His nameless spawn.

And yet, you’re still prepared to sacrifice your life.

Yes, a very good little spawn, indeed.

“It doesn’t matter,” you mutter, clenching your chest as a tendril of sadness wraps around your heart and chokes it. “What do I have to do?”

“Before we can do anything about Astarion. We must first unbind him from his contract.” Mizora says, eyes narrowing, fixed on you. “I don’t care how you do it, but you must get Astarion’s contract from Mephistopheles. Steal it. Bargain for it. The choice is yours, but you must do it fast. There’s no way to know how much time before Astarion is lost forever.”

Mizora deposits you back into the sewers, and her voice bounces off the stony passageways, “Tick-tock, tick-tock, pet.”

You consider continuing to try to track Elowyn, but you’re reeling with information and cannot fathom how you would even begin to concentrate on her. She must be dealt with. That is certain, but it must wait until your mind isn’t fraught and unsettled.

How are you supposed to get Astarion’s contract from Mephistopheles? Bargaining for it should be your last resort, but how do you get to Cania, the eighth layer of the Nine Hells, survive it long enough to sneak into Mephistar and somehow sneak through an archdevil citadel? It seems like an impossible task.

Should you tell Astarion? He would usually be the first person you ran to for help with a heist, but he’s unlikely to let you go, even if it is the only means to save him from inevitably losing himself entirely. You can’t risk Astarion forcing you to stay, but you might not be able to risk going to the Hells without him. The Vampire Ascendant will likely be an invaluable asset if you meet resistance. But if he loses himself, you might not survive Astarion’s wrath long enough to get where you’re going. Whether that thing inside him is a separate entity or a version of himself that’s been infected and corrupted, you doubt it will take kindly to you trying to remove it.

Do you approach Shadowheart? You would be putting her in great peril, but she might be able to help with research. This is your mistake to fix, and you don’t relish putting your friend’s lives on the line. Karlach and Wyll are in the Hells. They may be able to help ascertain a way to get to Cania, but you’ll need to figure out how to contact them.

And Good Gods, your name…

The silent corridors echo with the foreboding sound of your heavy footsteps like the ominous rumble of an approaching storm as you work through the maze of gangways and channels. Tears stroll in rivulets down your snowy cheeks, liquid poetry to express all the emotions you can’t.

Dejection. Grief. Fear. Defeat. Loss.

Lost in the spiralling thoughts, you forget to look to the sky as you drag your weary body home. The only thing you want right now is to curl up in the strong arms of Astarion and let him hold your broken pieces and fears together because you’re not sure if you can do it by yourself.

The sun cracks the skyline, the first rays of the soft light of an autumn day embracing the streets, but the sun no longer embraces you. It blinds and broils you. Your skin glows, flakes, and melts. Deep, molten silver-blue channels crack in your arms, legs and face. The pain is so intense you can’t even remember to scream as you stand, waiting for your skin to slough off your bones and cover the street with ash.

You don’t remember reaching out to the bond with Astarion, but his voice fills your head, “Gods above. What in the nine Hells are you doing!? ” Astarion bellows. Panic infects his usual halcyon timbre, “Find shelter! I’m coming!”

The pain is all-consuming. You can’t move, can’t think, can’t speak as your nerves are melted away. Your skin dissolves like water evaporating under the sun’s heat. Every inch of your skin is being flayed in a single moment that lasts forever.

You will die nameless and alone.

“Fuck! Find shelter. Now!”

Astarion’s compulsion overrides everything else, and your body moves stiffly to obey the command even as it smokes and your skin is loosened from your frame, liquifying and dripping off your arms and legs, turning to ash in midair and being carried away by the morning breeze.

Find shelter. Find shelter. Find shelter.

Your instructions resound in your head even louder than the pain that falls to a buzz in the background. You can’t even blink as your fingers curl around the boards of a long-abandoned shack. Gods. Are those your fingers? Is that bone you see? You wrench the board off the window. The pads of your fingers squelch and ooze. When you throw the boards down, your skin sticks to them, peeling away in rangy, fibril bands like gum. Thank the Gods, you lack the capacity to mull it over much as your body throws itself inside without your consent.

With the order completed, there is a brief moment of pure, blissful euphoria - a reward for being so very obedient. The compulsion pales, the vines recede, and you’re pitched back into the residual agony that has yet to abate.

Now that the sun is no longer skinning you alive, the pain has lessened, and you remember how to scream. An inhumane noise rends your throat somewhere between a shriek and a wail. Your head lolls to the side, and your eyes fall to your arms.

You immediately wish they hadn’t.

Your skin is not the smooth pearlescent you’re used to seeing now that the colour it once held has faded to death’s grip. It’s powdery and matte. You’re sure you’re looking at the bones of your forearms in the chasmal rifts.

You hear white noise in your head, murmuring over the bond. It feels like Astarion is trying to contact you, but you hear no words. To get your thoughts off the pain still being recited by your nerves, you shift your focus to the emotions in your head, trying to sift through them. Astarion’s heartbeat in your chest is excruciating. It hammers with the intensity of a blacksmith striking an anvil. He’s petrified, bordering on hysterical.

You reach out in your head, “Astarion?”

“Little love!” He howls. You must remember to request he not attempt to dissolve your brain matter. “Why haven’t you been answering me?”

“Where are you?”

“Close, my treasure.”

You don’t know how much time elapses as you bounce between consciousness and dissociation while focusing on not moving. The less you move, the better for you, but your limbs and muscles seem to jerk and twitch without your consent, and every time, it sends another agonizing swell of suffering to break over you. Teardrops flutter on your lashes, but you can’t move to wipe them away.

Your ears pick up the thudding tempo of Astarion’s beating heart before he bursts through the door, scattering the planks and showering splinters in his haste. Astarion drops to his knees beside you. He visibly shudders as his eyes land on you, slumped against a wall.

“Hells,” he breathes, chest heaving from exertion. You can feel his horror in your head, but you need not. It’s evident in his shaky and rapid speech, “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here. You’re safe. Look at me, darling.”

Why, after everything he has done to you, is his proximity so remarkably comforting? You let your eyes roam over him and truly appreciate the beauty before you. His scarlet eyes, dazzling like vivid, perfectly polished jewels ashine behind… tears? No. That doesn’t seem right. Your vision is blurred from your eyes being boiled in their sockets. You must be imagining the tears, but his eyes are beautiful nonetheless. His sculpted, full lips, which once held the promise of an eternity of silk kisses, are downturned at the corners. You would give anything to run your fingers along them right now, feel them on your skin, taste them on your tongue. He is breathtaking, quite literally.

“Sweetheart.” Astarion reaches to you. His fingers tremble as they hover below your jaw. He knows it will hurt if he touches you, “Can you hear me?”

You answer in his head because moving the muscles in your face to make you capable of speech will hurt, “Yes. I hear you.”

“I can compel you to not feel the pain, to sleep, but I need your permission.” His eyes bore into you. His voice is a favourite dream you long to slip into, “Please.”

It’s dangerous permission to give. You’ve told him you will leave if he compels you again, but he just did, didn’t he? He compelled you to find shelter when you could not do it yourself. He compelled you from afar. He does not need to be near you to force commands upon you. He can wrap your brain and body around his finger like twine from anywhere, anytime, on a whim. But Gods, you will do anything to make this pain end, to drift away from this fucking nightmare.

“Do it.”

Immediately, you feel your control funnelling away, like sand through an hourglass.

“You feel no pain,” he purrs, and the pain vanishes as your nerve endings deactivate. It’s a blissful respite, and you sigh. “Thank you for trusting me. Sleep now.”

Your brain shuts off. Darkness claims you, and Hells below, you welcome it.

“Wake.”

The directive floats through your comatose mind like a beam of light cuts through the pitch-blackness of nullity. Your faculties burst to life, waking one by one, unfurling like a blooming flower. The first thing you feel is hunger so painful that your body jerks to collapse in on itself as your limbs jolt and tremor insuppressibly. Excruciating cramps make your toes curl and your hands ball into fists. Your mind is raving, mad with hunger. You consider biting your tongue if only for the sweet succour of that crimson elixir.

You cannot think of anything other than the sensation of your insides gnawing on themselves, the paralyzing contracting of every ligament and tendon in your body, the desiccation that’s withered your tongue, and the grave need to feed - on anything and anyone.

Another spasm causes you to lurch and claw at your skin like you could dig yourself out of this ailing body. Warm hands clasp your wrists, and all your mind can think is warm means alive, and alive means blood. Your eyes snap open, but your addled brain simply cannot process the visual input, and you don’t think twice before fire erupts from your palms.

“Shit!”

You hear it, but you do not process it. As soon as the grip on you rescinds, you lunge at this figure before you whose beating heart is thrumming the provocative siren song of life and food. Colliding with it is like being throttled into a brick wall, but you waste no time fumbling and climbing with bared fangs. You’re so close to that beautifully pulsing vein, and it’s the only thing your eyes can focus on.

Stomach bubbling with hunger, you go to bite, jaws snapping and slobbering like a feral beast. As soon as your fangs hover within striking distance, your body arrests, and you’re instantaneously immobilized.

Strong arms wrap around you, lift, and sink you to the floor. A hand cradles your cheek, and the branching blue-purple veins make you swoon. You think about biting them only to have your body freeze up on you further. It guides your eyes to vivid crimson irises that spark recognition and reason back into your dazed lucidity.

“Astarion…”

“Stop thinking about biting me,” he chuckles and shifts you to the side. “You’ll be able to move again.”

“What?” You would quirk a brow at him, but you’re too focused on trying to push your intentions of biting him away. They do not concede to your urges, and you find your eyes wander without your permission to any vein that might be in striking distance. Astarion always gently walks your errant gaze back to his. “You haven’t compelled me?”

“Ah. Apologies. I do forget how new you are to this.” Astarion reaches for something on the dresser to his right, “No. This is not a compulsion. As my…” he trails off.

“Spawn.” You state with a palpable despondency threaded between the fog of hunger that looms over you.

“I do hate that word,” he shakes his head with discontentment as if he does not want to face the reality of what he has turned you into. “You are physically unable to bite me without my permission. Your body simply will not allow you to do it. Which is why you currently cannot move.”

Astarion holds a goblet out to you, and your stomach is set on fire by the iron sharpness that wafts from the syrupy, bright red nectar. It breaks you away from your absorption of sinking your fangs into Astarion’s flesh, and you snatch it out of his hands and drink with mindless gluttony.

The blood is fresh, hot and rich as the liquid rushes into your mouth. It waterfalls through your body, unknotting the snarls in your muscles, dissolving away the relentless twist of your stomach, and replacing the bloodlust hysteria in your mind with a sultry buzzing.

Astarion’s already holding another goblet, and you throw the empty one to the side and close your eyes as you guzzle. The blood is buttery and decadent. It’s hundreds, nay, thousands of exquisite dishes in a single swallow. It’s like a summertime dawn on your tongue. The wet warmth of it sinks between your thighs, settling with a molten throbbing in your core, and you moan at the pure bliss.

Astarion slips the goblet from your fingers once you’ve finished, and you look at him with half-lidded eyes. You rack your brain for memories of the few times you’ve tasted the blood of thinking creatures. You bit a few in the battles between when he turned you and the Netherbrain, but you cannot remember any of them ever tasting that deliciously arousing.

“That wasn’t animal blood,” you state, almost slurring. You feel drunk, or maybe Astarion is just intoxicating to look at while he mesmerizes you with those red eyes and perfect lips that foretoken pleasure. “Who did you just feed me?”

“No, it was decidedly not animal blood,” he grins as you adjust on his lap and straddle him. You’re not entirely sure what you’re doing in your desirous daze, and you trace the perfect bow of his lips as he speaks. “It was my blood.”

“You are delectable,” you giggle as your fingers help themselves and start fiddling with the buttons on his chemise. As your muddled mind starts to make sense of what he just said, you’re tripped up. You stare at him with a slack jaw and round eyes.

“The look on your face is priceless, darling,” he giggles and glances down at your roving hands as they push open his shirt and trace the defined muscles. Astarion’s fingers trace down your neck, sending shivers down your spine and making you squirm on his lap in wanton desperation for even the most minuscule friction to sate the ache, “I told you that you would taste me, and I you. It will not make you a True Vampire, though, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Right now, you could not care less about being a True Vampire. There is very little on your mind except how his skin feels on your fingers and how extraordinary he would feel stretching you.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply, placing slow kisses up the column. His fingers curl into the silk nightdress he must have changed you into at some point as he groans.

“Whatever are you doing?” He mutters near your ear, pressing his cheek to yours.

“I want you,” you sigh as you curl your fingers into his hair.

“You just attacked me,” he swallows.

“Then, let me apologize,” you grind against his hardening length in a way that makes you both gasp.

“You’ve been asleep for a week,” he mumbles, even as his arms wrap around you, tugging you close. “You have no idea how close you were to dying. Truly dying.”

You should probably be concerned with how long he kept you asleep since your time is limited, but you don’t care. You can’t care. You’ve never been quite so high on blood, on him. He is the light, darkness and blood that runs through your veins, and good Gods, you will give him everything.

“So, wake me up,” you purr as you push his shirt over his shoulders and run the flat of your tongue up his neck, relishing the salt of his skin. “Touch me like only you can. Love me like only you do. Help me feel alive, Astarion.”

Astarion pulls you back, cradling your face with this thumb pressed gently under your chin, drawing your eyes to his, and you stare at him through narrow, seductively hooded eyes like a love-sick pup. He traces your lips with his thumb, and you catch it in your mouth and suck.

“Hells,” he rasps darkly with a sharp inhalation.

You feel the offering call of the bond, and you don’t hesitate to throw it open. That beautifully overwhelming frisson shatters through you as Astarion’s lips catch yours in an eager, bordering on frantic kiss. He snakes his hand into your hair, holding you firmly against his vehement embrace. His tongue darts into your mouth, and a guttural groan thunders in his chest. His kiss is unusually clumsy, lacking the artistry and mastery he typically possesses, and your teeth click together with your greed for each other. You roll your hips, sinking your clit against his length, and your head falls back as white-hot sparks of want rupture behind your eyelids.

As far as you’re concerned, he is the definition of desire. His lips, his hands, and his taste are the only things that can bring you back to life from this deathless death, and you’re sure that you could never get close enough to him. Even with every curve of your body pressed into every contour of his, it still wouldn’t be enough. Nothing is sweeter than the serene sin of the kisses his lips press against your throat.

You peel off your nightdress, and your fingers tug at the opening of his breeches, graceless in your wild hunger to be filled, to be taken, to be his. Astarion quirks his hips up and pulls them down his hips, freeing his cock. The head glistens with evidence of his arousal. With no warning or hesitation, you sink his full length into you. The heavenly stretch makes you cry out and dig your fingers into his chest.

“Fuck,” he breathes, heavy, ragged and uneven. The pads of his fingers find your swollen flesh, sweeping and circling, and you get lost in the divine stimulation.

You set a slow, teasing pace, rising and sinking back down onto him as you delight in feeling the ridges of his head with every languid pump. Astarion pants as he lets out breathy moans. He brings a hand to your hip, trying to urge you to move quicker.

“Good Gods,” he whimpers, his gaze glossed with desire. “Have mercy.”

You are starving for pleasure, famished, and you will take it how you want it. With a warning growl, you grasp his wrist and pin it above his head to the wall. Astarion grins at your dominance and doesn’t fight it. He murmurs something unintelligible as you plunge onto his cock, and stares reverentially through thick lashes, drinking you in as you forfeit all rational thought.

Time runs away with you. You could have been riding him for hours or seconds, but eventually, your savouring pace turns reckless and erratic. Astarion bucks his hips in time to meet yours as the sound of smacking flesh, wanton cries and panting is all that fills your ears and head.

Astarion’s fingers tremble and quake against your sensitive bud, his skin sheens with sweat and his breath hitches. When you finally unpin his wrist, he clutches your hips and guides you to continue the tempo that is driving you perilously close to the edge.

His breath starts to come faster, panting hot and crude, fanning across your sweat-veiled skin. Scarlet eyes devour you as you chase your release in his lap. He penetrates you - Harder. Deeper. Animalistic.

“Oh shit—” His eyes snap open wide, almost in a look of blissful confusion. In your rapture, you barely notice the way his lips move, but you hear nothing but white noise. “I’m going to— Gods. I think I’m going to—“

A shuddering gasp escapes his lips, his body suddenly tensing beneath you. The look of ecstasy that washes over his face is enough to hurl you over the precipice, and you cry out with him. Between your walls clutching and spasming, you feel his cock twitching and pulsing, flooding you with his seed. His arms wrap around you, and you cling to him with a grip that would surely bruise. He crushes you against him as you’re both overwhelmed with pleasure so pure you think maybe it would have killed you were you not already dead.

As the intoxication of your climax fades, you sag into him, pressing your forehead against his neck. You close your eyes, breathing in the fragrance of his sweat, and focus on the rise and fall of his chest. It would be nice to stay in this darkness, snug and safe and home in his embrace, with the bond open so you can remain one pale star against the dusk of reality.

And then you remember the white noise from the moving lips of Shadowheart, Gale, Mizora, and him … You pull back abruptly, breaking out of Astarion’s arms and staring at him, tears teeming in your eyes. Astarion’s confusion is evident on his face and through the connection.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. You can feel him trying to figure it out in his head. It’s such an odd sensation, almost like your emotions are being poked and prodded. “What did I do?”

“Say my name,” you whimper, focusing on his lips.

“What?” His eyes bounce around as his brows pull down.

“My name,” you repeat with a quivering lip. “Say it.”

Astarion’s lips move, and… nothing. All you can hear is the buzzing, fizzing hiss of white noise coming from his mouth.

“Again.”

“I don’t understand —“ He yet again opens and closes his mouth with only a droning hum. Your fingers clamber against his lips, pushing his mouth open as if you might be able to grasp the word as it leaves his tongue. “Whatever is the matter?”

He doesn’t even know, you realize. He has no idea that he’s stolen your name just as he stole your life. You find some comfort in knowing that it wasn’t this version of him that did it, at least. You stare off dejected as everything rushes back to you like a slap across the cheek.

Mizora. The Hells. Mephistopheles. The Contract. The ticking clock. Your name.

“My love,” Astarion’s fingers curl into your hair, and he ushers your eyes to his. “Did I harm you? Please. Tell me what’s troubling you."

“I don’t remember my name,” the tears spill out of your eyes. “You stole it from me.”

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

So... does she tell him what Mizora revealed?

#ascended astarion #bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #fangs and fractured hearts

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majaloveschris · 4 days

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Hi Maja.

First of all, your blog is one of the only ones I’ve always felt was sincere, on point, respectful, and not toxic. I’ve always had a good feeling about you and how you are kind despite all the toxicity on here.

That feeling has never wavered and there is a big part of me that wants you to be right and win against these ridiculous anons that seem to want to put you down.

An opinion (which I don’t claim to be fact, just some thoughts here): I see a lot of takes on here popping up from blogs that claim they have PR knowledge and claim to be experts and read and follow along the gossip, but I think nobody really knows and they can only hypothesize on what they think is the truth.

I think CE being married (by public knowledge and Wikipedia) was the main goal here. I’ve always sort of felt this, which is why I ultimately was not surprised after he did his SMA spread that he went public with Fish girl and then later on “got married.”

The reason I say this is because HW and society is very judgmental and superficial. Being single or unmarried at a certain age always raises questions whether or not it is valid to do so. I disagree with this sentiment but unfortunately the world is how it is. It happens to regular people, so why wouldn’t it apply to celebs? Especially the ones who have basically become a pop culture icon of being an eligible bachelor/desirable.

Let’s think about this. After 2019, CE was no longer under the marvel umbrella. He had to start defining his post marvel career, and then Covid hit. So many things derailed. He randomly got an IG in 2020 but people found out it had existed as an account since 2019. Perhaps it was always the plan or it was a plan hatched by his PR team to keep him in the public eye. He became relatable internet BF with a Prince Charming storyline of when will he find the one? It was almost overkill from 2020-2022.

Now it’s 2024 and he’s supposedly been with this woman since 2021. It shows longevity and then eventual commitment. He now wears a ring in public so they see him as “settled down.” That’s the image he is now portraying for the public who doesn’t dig or care to deeper in his life.

I don’t think it’s about rebranding to attract a younger audience - if so, his pr team would have realized that gen Z actually does not fare well to age gaps and the subject of grooming and etc always comes up for this hypersensitive on PC/wokeness generation. Then add on the racism and weird ass crap from her/her friends. Definitely not boding well for a generation that lives on the internet and knows how to deep dive. His PR team would have looked at how the public reacted to other relationships like this and I feel, if it was simply he was in love with her and it was real real, would have told him to keep it on the DL DL until it was absolutely certain they had walked down the aisle. At that point, there would be no turning back.

But they marketed this before that happened. They wanted to portray her as the one similar to how in movies, they want to portray a main character and love interest as meant to be even if the audience may or may not receive it that way. How many times do we hear “this movie tanked because the leads had no chemistry and the relationship they wanted us to believe was not believable?”

But ultimately, the endgoal of if CE and his wife are a good couple or not doesn’t really matter. They have achieved their goal of he is now settled down and no longer on the market. If you choose to continue to follow him, stay for his career and not his personal life. Meanwhile, her - well, they’ll keep trying to make her happen because her end of the deal was getting more visibility and breaking into the American market. That much has been clear.

But you can lead a horse to water, you can’t make it drink.

What she chooses to do with the opportunities given to her are left to be seen. Also, how the public and CE/her fanbases chooses to receive them are also left to be seen.

Will this marriage last forever? I have doubts. But I do think they considered many options and this is what they came up with. I also don’t believe CE’s actions show he is very happy with the arrangement, even less so than fish is. Because even from the subtle clues from photos and “videos” - body language does not lie.

To be fair to fish, I doubt she’s in love with him either. I think she’s getting more benefits from this because most of the negativity is being directed towards him, not her. His fans hating and harassing her are just a pinnacle of what he’s receiving from his own fanbase. Some people will disagree with me but he’s the one getting the P and G and disgusting comments and being called the worst person on earth because he married her. His own fans are turning on him and her fans can also blame him but victimize her. The general public doesn’t care too much but will say how he looks because he got with her. She remains “innocent” of any blame because at the end, she is young and he is older so he should know better. Do you see what I mean?

Meanwhile, her fans are just happy she’s getting attention and somebody to fund her poor attempts at becoming a fashion icon. She lacks in talent and work ethic but it’s an easy way for her to get engagement by being attached to him.

The day this ends and she no longer has his name will be interesting and that’s what I think his fans (remaining) are hoping for. They don’t want to reward laziness and clout chasing opportunist and I too support this. They want HIM to be better and find success and love himself more so he doesn’t continue to end up in these shitty situations. But again, he has to want that for himself. He has to want to deserve better so he can work on actually deserving of better.

I hope I didn’t offend anyone with this opinion. Just my thoughts and I support YOU. I hope things work out in the end in your favor because you are a great person and I selfishly want you to be right (haha). ❤️

I completely agree with everything that you wrote down.

I remember seeing people criticize him for saying he wants to get married and have a family, yet he is still single and childless. As you said, it's stupid that people are being bullied and judged because they haven't already settled down, even if they wanted to. Finding a partner is hard, and finding a partner in his shoes is even harder. I obviously don't know whether he actually wants all of that, but saying he must not want all of that because he didn't do so is not right. A lot of people struggle with finding a good partner.

I never agreed with people calling him by the P and G words. I guess these people either don't know what those words mean or are simply that mad as Chris that they feel the need to spread lies. He is not those things and never was. Yeah, 16 years is a lot, but she was a grownup when they allegedly met, and I think people exaggerate when they say she looks like a child.

I think the reason most people are hateful towards him is because they are disappointed in him. I think most people had an idea about the person he is based on the information we had, and him being married to someone like her or even dating someone like her doesn't really fit into that. People aren't disappointed in her because most didn't even know who she was before Chris. We were just presented with her actual self, and we didn't have any expectations from her. But we had for him.

I doubt either of them is in love with each other. Alba doesn't seem that happy or comfortable around him either. I think this is just business for both of them.

I still think he is a good man who made a terrible mistake. I just hope the best for him, to be honest, which I know is an unpopular opinion now because it seems like wanting the worst for him is what is trendy nowadays. Maybe I'm naive; maybe I'm just holding onto an image, but I don't think the last 20+ years were a lie. I hope he will prove me right.

Thanks for writing this down and for being there. ♥

#majaloveschris #chris and alba pr #cevans-love

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