Explicit content, 18+ only mdni. Y’all are getting a two for one special deal right now. I poured myself a big glass of wine, and started typing right away, and letting the juices flow. To the original anon who requested this here is what I’ve been told is what you probably meant so please tell me you liked it and enjoyed it. I almost let it go but it was bothering me, and I want to make sure people who request something get what they wanted. Reblogs and comments for my poor old self are greatly appreciated and encouraged. My inbox is always open so please fill it with whatever you heart desires. Thanks everyone again for always being nice and supportive. Happy reading🌻💛 master list
Aerion:
He finds himself getting a little frustrated and blaming himself that someone like him can’t get you there. Wondering what he was doing wrong in the bedroom. Groaning as he tries different positions, and switches up the pace trying to hit a deeper angle. When he sees that is not working, he reaches a hand between your legs, and starts rubbing the exposed sensitive clit. Thumb rapidly moving back and forth he could feel his hand burning, but he was more determined than ever. Once you start screaming and clenching around him he knows exactly what he needs to do from now on.
“Is that all that was needed my flame? To just rub that little button to awaken you.”
Baelor:
Baelor felt incredibly terrible that you couldn’t reach your peak. Telling you over and over that he was going to do whatever he could to make sure you were feeling nothing but pleasure. His mouth sucking on your breasts, and swirling his tongue around your nipple. Then once he heard your moans and whimpers, he couldn’t stop. Going until they were raw and hard, and even biting then just hard enough for the pain to turn into pleasure, and then feeling you gush around him like a waterfall. Surprised that was all that it took to get you there.
“My darling wife, who knew these lovely breasts were the key to unlock this door.”
Daeron:
Daeron became upset when you couldn’t quite get there with him. Beating himself up and drinking even more to the point he couldn’t even perform. Trying different things to see what you liked the most, and what didn’t get you wet. And when you were riding him deep and hard, he looked up at you with such admiration an inspiration, he reached a hand up to grab your neck, and wrap his fingers around your throat. Immediately feeling your legs trembling beside him, like a volcano about to burst. Applying slightly more pressure until he saw your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and your body shaking.
“I knew my wife could get there. All she needed was my hands wrapped around her pretty throat.”
Duncan:
He was incredibly quiet and was almost ashamed every time. Putting his head in his hands and too afraid to even look you in the eyes. Not saying a word as he would leave, and start beating his sword against a tree. And since he was quiet anyway he felt he needed to place your body on top of his face, and keep you pinned to his mouth as you rode his delicious tongue until you could feel your body quiver with ecstasy. Hands gripping his hair as he kept his hands on your thighs groaning into you, the vibration making your toes curl. Only growling into your lips as he slurped everything that came out of you.
“If my tongue is what gives you the most pleasure, then you shall sit on it like a throne.”
Lyonel:
Lyonel didn’t say anything exactly, he would laugh out loud in annoyance. It wasn’t towards you it was more towards himself. Wondering what else he could do to accomplish the task of giving you an orgasm. And he had whipped you around on your back, and his hand came down suddenly and spanked your cunt. A sharp shock rocking across your body, and so he did it again, and this time you cried out like a wild animal. Grinning knowing this was what you desired from the beginning, and how you probably didn’t even know yourself.
“My sweet wife, just needed a good spanking to get what she’s always wanted.”
Maekar:
The whole kingdom felt his wrath when he couldn’t give you an orgasm. Shouting and yelling that he was going to do whatever it took for you to soak him with your arousal. Bending you over the bed as he took you hard and fast, and when nothing was happening, he spread your cheeks wide, and watched your other hole puckering, and he smirked before slowly sticking a finger in, and thrusting it deep and slow until you clenched tightly around him, and gripped the sheets until your knuckles turned white. It was new and different and very exciting, and all you needed.
“This has been a long time coming my burning flame, and you won’t want any longer.”
Valarr:
He was actually quite embarrassed, and worried word would get around the kingdom, and everyone would think he wasn’t a man. It frightened him that they would say he’s not fit to rule if he can’t give his woman an orgasm. Then one night Valarr had more to drink than usual, and he threw you on the bed, and started thrusting deep and hard. His mouth by your ear whispering everything he wanted to do to you, and kissing your neck and nibbling your ear. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head, and your nails clawing down his back, and legs wrapped tightly around his waist.
“Let my words be the one to let you feel nothing but pleasure my love, let my voice do everything.”
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sammy is so putty in your hands when you give him any kind of praise...
you ride him slowly, your tight walls squeezing his fat cock, making you both moan with want.
your hands grip his shoulders while your body arches backward. your head hangs loosely to the side, allowing sammy to admire your pretty face, which wears an expression of pure bliss. your eyes are closed from the euphoria that surges through your bones, and your lips are slightly parted, the breathless moans escaping them like a drug to the man beneath you.
when you finally open them—they are filled with desire and need, directed solely at him and for him— and sammy feels like he's in heaven; his breath catches in his throat and his cock throbs inside you with raw hunger.
“oh please don't stop, sammy. you make me feel so good” you mewl, cupping your perky breasts in your manicured fingers, massaging their flesh, thrusting your hips more and more desperately, trying to push his cock deeper , even when you can already feel him in your stomach , abusing your poor insides.
“yeah?” he whispers, cradling your waist with his large hands, slightly grounding you, needing to be sure that the words you speak are real, even though you both know they are.
“yeah” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a messy kiss, pushing your tongue into his mouth, mixing your saliva with his, pressing against him harder with every touch.
and sammy literally melts.
his body goes weak in your arms, his eyes grow heavy, and he suddenly has to fight his own body to keep from cumming inside your puffy pussy.
but that feeling fades as quickly as it comes, because suddenly his soft body is no longer beneath you, but above you, and the slow, sensual movements of your hips are replaced by animalistic, rapid thrusts that turn the moans escaping your throat into screams that echo off the walls of your bedroom.
sammy doesn’t care that tomorrow he’ll most likely have to deal with the neighbors’ stares and their snide comments—no, all he cares about is fucking you so good that you’ll praise him again and tell him how good he makes you feel.
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Sammy Bryant dating Reader after his divorce and being in absolute awe of her because she's just so sweet. She's baking cookies for the station during the holidays and packing Sammy's lunch with lil notes. The guys at the station give him so much shit when they see the little notes "Have a good day" "I love you." "I can't wait until you get home" but Sammy just tells the guys to shut up. He knows they don't necessarily get it; why something like a little sweet post it notes packed with a sandwich or some leftover pasta feels so amazing, especially after all the drama with Tammi.
When Reader calls, he knows it isn't to argue with him or drop some crisis of her own making on his lap. No, the phone calls are just to check if he thinks he'll be home in time for dinner (she's making his favorite lasagna) or reminders that her folks are in town next week so remember to help her set up the guest room this weekend for them. It's all so domestic and drama free.
He knows when he comes home the house will be peaceful. The house will be clean. They'll make dinner together (if he makes it home early enough). Sammy will do the dishes insisting Reader let's him clean up and relaxes. They'll cuddle on the sofa and things won't feel tense.
It's not just Sammy who she is so lovely with. She is great with Nate. She remembers that the kid likes crunchy peanut butter on his pb&js and remembers that he hates mayo and carrots. She remembers his favorite color even if it feels like it changes every other week. She knows his favorite dinosaur and his favorite movie. She remembers exactly what he wants to be for Halloween each year and gets so excited the first Christmas they all have together because she gets to do the Santa thing. She tries so hard to make holidays feel magical insisting Nate will only be a kid once and he should have good memories of holidays.
She puts up with all of Tammi's dramatics over custody with Nate. She fully supports Sammy as he fights to have primary custody when Tammi proves that her household is too chaotic. Reader reminds Sammy to love Nate more than he hates Tammi. Reader is so determined to make sure Nate is protected and feels secure with Sammy and her. She loves Nate so much and Sammy feels secure knowing she's stepping into such a maternal role in his son's life.
She deals with Sammy's insecurities after Tammi was so unfaithful. She reassures Sammy when he feels insecure about other guys checking her out; reminding him she won't stray from him. Half the time she doesn't even realize another guy is checking her out. She reminds Sammy that he's the only guy she notices in a room full of people.
She makes Sammy feel a sense of peace when he comes home after a hellish shift. She's so gentle and patient and he's absolutely crazy about her.
Sammy tries so hard to go above and beyond to make Reader feel appreciated. He brings her home bouquets of flowers. He always goes for her favorites; tulips and daisies and marigolds. He takes her on date nights to mushy romantic period films even if they make him sleepy. He slow dances with her in the living room because he knows it makes her laugh and she insists he's a good dancer even if he thinks he's clumsy. He wraps her up in her favorite cozy blanket with a cup of tea when she's had a rough day at work.
Over all things with Reader just feel right. Sammy feels like she fits him; she makes him understand the whole 'other half' concept.
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sammy bryant, who takes his gf to a pool party and gets lots of jeers along the lines of "do you know what to do with all that?" from his coworkers as she lays out in a lounge chair in a cute little bikini.
yes anon. YES! such a lovely idea i hope i brought it to life properly <3
thinking about how sammy bryant and everyone else thinks you’re way out of his league.
it started with the obvious, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on. sammy was all nervous and tongue tied around you from the moment you came into the department as an important witness for one of his cases. it took about three months of coming around for questioning and also just stopping by to ‘stay updated’ before you had to be embarrassingly direct. “sammy? are you ever gonna ask me out or should i stop with the muffin and coffee visits?” he had been absolutely baffled that you wanted to date him.
and so was everyone else at the station. you started coming around more often, no longer a witness but as his girlfriend. you charmed everyone instantly with your sweet personality, bubbly conversations, and of course… you’re hot at shit. all the detectives can’t keep their eyes off you when you prance into the department in a tiny skirt and lunch that you made for sammy.
and they especially can’t look away right now. in the backyard of one of the detectives houses as you sit in the cutest little bikini with bows on it. you’re stretched out on one of the lounge chairs giggling and getting to know to the other girlfriends and wives of sammy’s coworkers. sammy is at the grill with all the other guys, uncomfortably flipping burgers while they all jeer at him.
they start off strong with their taunts. “you payin’ her sammy?” and “how much prison time did ya threaten her with if she didn’t date you?”. sammy is beet red at this point. he’s about to snap and pull up the sex tape the two of you made last night where you were sobbing from how good he made you feel, when the new rookie chimes in. “yeah bryant. do you even know what to do with all that?”
“of course i do!” his angry yell rings out through the backyard. everyone turns their head at the noise. sammy looks around sheepishly at the wide eyes he gets. he finds yours that are filled with concern “everything okay sammy?”. he nods once, then turns back to the grill as the other detectives double over in laughter.
little do they know, on the other side of the pool you’re telling the other women that sammy bryant knows exactly what to do with ‘all that’.
"you've seriously gotten a noise complaint!?" one of the wives asks you. you giggle through your response, probs too tipsy and oversharing. "we've gotten so many i stopped keeping track! what can i say? he always makes me scream." all jaws drop to the floor, mascara'd eyes blowing wide at your words. "really?" a blonde asks you in disbelief. you scoff and shrug casually as if what you're about to say is the bare minimum. “big time. it’s because he makes sure i come at least twice before he even tries to have sex. never settles ladies." all female eyes curiously trail across the yard to your boyfriend with a newfound respect for the man that apparently keeps you more than satisfied.
you're feeling wayyy too comfortable at this point, so you're a little glad when you hear sammy's voice cut through your next admission. "oh and! he does this thing with his tongue that makes me literally black out right when he-" "baby?" your head snaps to your boyfriend who is now only a few feet away. he has a plate of food put together for you of everything you like without you even having to ask. all the women clock it, then glare at their partners who are already eating at the outdoor table. sammy looks very flushed as he hands it to you, most definitely from hearing your words.
actually, all of the detectives hear your words. but not from you. nope, sammys coworkers got an earful about your amazing sex life later that night at home from their spouses. the next day at the station, they all stare at sammy as if they've never seen him before.
sammy's instantly flustered and heavily confused at the almost astonished looks he's receiving. it isn't until the same rookie who had questioned his abilities the previous night comes up to him and says, "hey man... if you're ever um- givin' out any tips for... y'know- i would uh, appreciate it." that he understands that everyone now knows exactly how he gets a girl like you to date him.
at a barbecue right now and i’m a little tipsy and im thinking about how sammy bryant would fucking love you as his little housewife.
uggghhh all afternoon he would feed you fruity drinks he made especially for you to make sure you’re all tipsy and giggly. he’s at the grill smiling to himself while you make all the sides for his burgers and hot dogs.
you give him a fat kiss on the cheek every time you pass him to put a new salad or potato dish on the picnic table in the backyard. he sees you flit around the party checking on everyone’s needs. and he has to start palming himself through his jeans because he’s so turned on by your cutie apron he bought you :(
and when everyone leaves he fucks you raw in the living room cause he can’t even make it upstairs to the bed. he’s so hard after seeing you serve food to his friends like the perfect hostess and cleaning up the house he bought for you.
and he begs to come inside you while panting in your ear “p-please babygirl. fuck im gonna come- need a baby on your hip at the next party. please please i need it- oh, oh fuck.”
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contains: fem!reader, mentions of male harassment but only in conversation
summary: santos, oddly enough, comforts you during a bad shift
a/n: first trin fic! i hope you like it. there's truly not a more lesbian activity than misandry and i'll die on that hill | adorable divider from @robinavitchslut
Trinity finds you pouting in the staff lounge.
Pouting might be putting it dramatically, but you're definitely not your usual self, with your knees tucked precariously up to your chin on the cheap, plastic chair.
Her instinct is to ignore you, fill her water bottle, and return back to the fray, where she might at least get five minutes of work done without your chipper lilt squeaking in the background.
You, the darling sweetheart of the ER, with your stupid twin French braids, tied off with pink rubber bands like a preschooler. Your soft, pink t-shirt under your grey scrubs, and the cutesy, cartoon bandaid charm on the end of your badge. An anthropomorphic bandaid, no less, sporting a hair bow and a toothy smile, all varying shades of —no surprise here— pink.
Trinity keeps her back to you once she clears the threshold, busying herself with cracking the ice tray from the freezer. The very second her first cube clunks to the bottom of her stainless steel water bottle, you sniffle.
"What's wrong," says Trinity flatly, making the effort to turn on the faucet the moment you start speaking.
"I'm fine," you mumble, nearly drowned out by the running water. She snaps her bottle shut, then turns to face you, leaning back against the sink.
"Sure you are," Trinity scoffs.
The countertop bites into the small of her back as she crosses her arms over her chest, black nylon stretching taut across her slender arms.
You notice.
You always notice when it comes to her.
Two years you've been a nurse at this ER, and you've never met anyone quite like Dr. Santos. She came in hot, a seismic shift in your day-to-day, in a place you'd finally gotten the hang of. She's self-assured and ambitious, she reeks of a superiority complex, and bares her teeth when you get too close.
She does not like you, and you can't quite figure out why. You think it's because you're impervious to her bad moods, when she comes skulking in to the ER and barks at anybody who offers support.
You always shrug your shoulders when she attacks, tells you that you're too perky to be in this hellhole, why don't you go up to Pedes, what kind of self-respecting woman actually comes in to work with a smile on her face. Then masks it as a joke when you call her out on it. Oh, come on, I pick on everybody. It's how I show affection! You should count yourself lucky.
You think she sees weakness in your softness and wants to squash it.
You think it has more to do with her than it actually does with you.
But today you can't be sanctimonious about Hurricane Santos, because you're too encapsulated in your own rotten mood.
"You don't actually care," you challenge, arching a perfectly sculpted brow in her direction. Something fizzles beneath Trinity's ribs at this newfound brattiness coming out of you.
Usually you're so… amenable. Affable. Utterly unflappable. Other Austenian words that describe the demure older sister from Pride & Prejudice who, quite frankly, Trinity found fucking nauseating.
"Try me," Trinity bites back, sidling over and perching herself on the chair opposite you.
You lower your feet to the ground, then square up to the round table separating her feline frame from yours.
Seriously, she always has that look of a cat about to tip over a glass of water. She just needs to hear one more 'don't!' to knock it over the edge.
"Dana says I can't care for our male patients without somebody else present," your voice drops, and so too do your round, doe eyes.
Trinity doesn't think she's ever seen a more humanoid Bambi in her life.
God, that'd make Huckleberry Thumper, wouldn't it?
She rattles the image out of her head. "Excuse me?"
"I keep getting, like, harassed, or whatever, so she isn't letting me treat male patients by myself anymore," you explain. You run your fingers down the vertebrae of your left braid, gaze still fixed on the tabletop.
Trinity's throat bobs. "Who's been harassing you?" She asks, her voice taking on a different kind of edge.
"Just, like, patients," you shrug, leaning back in the chair, caving in on yourself.
"No," Trinity says your name, and splays her palm across the table. "Hey, this isn't a just or a whatever situation. I haven't heard about any of this."
Scuttlebutt usually finds its way around this ER in minutes —one singular hour, max— but she truly hasn't heard any rumblings of anyone harassing you.
Embarrassment crushes into you, flushing your whole face a pink brighter than… well, your whole ensemble, save for the grey scrubs.
"It's nothing," you insist, taken back to the several times you told Dana the exact same thing.
"It's not nothing," Trinity softens, the angles of her jaw and her chin rounding out. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but it's not nothing. You deserve to work here and feel comfortable doing so," she pauses and reconsiders, "well, as comfortable as someone could be in the seventh ring of hell."
You flick your eyes up to find the makings of a smile you've seen before, but never been on the receiving end of.
Her joke coaxes you with its outstretched arms, easing you back into the conversation at hand.
"There was this guy a couple weeks ago who asked me to give him a sponge bath," you begin, crossing your arms over your chest, capping your own shoulders in a definitive x-shape. You don't look Santos in the eye. You don't think you can. "Then somebody called me Nurse Barbie, and that guy that was brought in all coked-out yesterday grabbed my butt."
Trinity's pretty sure her blood could heat a tea kettle right now.
Her leg shakes uncontrollably beneath her, but she manages an expression of understanding as you go on, listing two additional instances of patients treating you like some thing for them to play with rather than an instrumental piece of their healthcare.
It's fucking infurating, thinking about someone degrading any nurse like that, let alone you. Sweet, abhorrently kind you, who brings in homemade cookies to work and stays late to help Dana with handoff rounds and asks Perlah and Princess to teach you phrases in Tagalog during the rare moments of downtime. Just the bad words, you'd giggled as Princess helped you sound them out.
Then Trinity realizes you're crying, and suddenly her reaction to what's happened to you doesn't feel as important.
"Hey," she speaks clearly, firmly. "Hey," she says your name again and you finally look at her. She flips her arm palm-side up, and flexes her fingers toward herself. An invitation.
Apprehensively, you lay your hand on top of hers. It's clumsy, but she tangles her fingers with yours, creating an archway on the table. She squeezes gently.
"That's not nothing," she says again. With your free hand, you stubbornly wipe a tear away.
"It's so embarrassing," you insist. "I feel like nobody takes me seriously."
Trinity's soft fingers shift, so she's cradling your hand in hers. The pad of her thumb swipes across the back of your knuckles, stars shooting up and down the veins in your arms.
You're certain her own arm must be aching, stretched across the expanse of the table for this long.
"Dana says she doesn't want me going in to male patients' rooms alone for a while." You continue. "Until the 'dumbass man pollen' clears from the air, were her exact words."
God, you hate that you're crying right now, that even this squeezes at your tender heart.
"When pigs fly," Santos jokes, garnering the softest amused hum from you. It's a small victory.
"So then what am I supposed to do?" You ask after a beat, frustratedly tugging your hand back. "I can't go looking for Perlah or Kim or Princess to join me every time I need to change a bedpan or administer medicine. It's ridiculous! We're already short-staffed as it is."
"Let me ask you this: what do you do when these dumbass men act like dumbasses?" Trinity slides her own arm back.
"I tell Dana."
"No, like, in the moment. After it happens, what do you do?" She asks.
You huff. "I-I don't know," you drag your hand over your face. "I guess I, like, do a little awkward laugh, because I'm uncomfortable, and then leave the room as soon as possible."
When Trinity nods, an errant strand of black-brown hair falls in her face. It takes everything in you not to reach across and tuck it behind the shell of her ear. Which you can only assume is just as soft as the rest of her is turning out to be.
"How about you turn it back on them?" She suggests.
"Ew, like, do it back?"
"No!" Trinity shakes her head, holding up her hands. "No, I mean, call them out on it! With the exception of the coked-out guy, all the patients you just listed off were fully coherent, right?"
You give a meek nod.
Trinity goes on. "Okayyyy, so ask them if they'd speak like that to their sister, or their mom, or ask if they were dropped on their head as a child. Tell them they're making you uncomfortable. Make them face their behaviors head-on rather than shirking back because of it."
The side of your mouth twists up into a little smile. "That'll do wonders for the patient satisfaction scores Robby's been harping about."
Santos laughs. "Oh, fuck Robby," she waves it off, then laughs again when she sees your eyes widen. It's not a graceful, birdsong lilt, but a real, honest-to-god bark of a laugh. "And fuck Dana, for not teaching you how to deal with it by yourself."
"Hey, now," you warn, looking around the otherwise empty break room, as if your nurse leader will pop out from one of the cabinets. "Dana's trying her best."
"Well, somebody needs to teach you to stand up for yourself," she arches a brow, the fluorescent lighting glinting off her glassy, smooth skin. "You deserve better than what you're given."
She moves to rise up, then jerks her chin towards the door. The din and hum of the ER on the other side of it suddenly seems louder than ever. "C'mon, I'm pretty sure your little poutfest has a fifteen-minute time limit."
"I wasn't pouting!" You protest as you rise to your feet. As your step past Santos, her hand brushes your shoulder.
"Sure you weren't." She hums behind you, her heart leaping when you shoot a good-natured grin at her over your shoulder.
The way Deran was so shaken by the way Pope acted towards him just out of prison in the first season.
The way his face fell when Pope told him in a mean tone about his father ditching and Pope having had to deliver him. When they did that first job with J and Pope got into his face about Deran being a pussy and getting scared, voice breaking when telling him to shut up. When they were preparing the Pendleton job and they had the fight about the fake money, and Pope jumped him and yelled at him, Deran was fighting back tears he was so shaken about it.
And then slowly when Pope starts stabilizing a bit. Cleaning Deran’s apartment while waiting for him. When he was looking for Deran when he didn’t go home at night and went to Adrian, his stare when Adrian said he probably was with some girl, not believing it for a second but not saying anything. Abandoning some guy in the middle of the ocean because his baby brother asked. When they robbed Nicky’s house and Pope told Deran he’d rather die than go back to prison and Derans face when he asked him what happened in there, not receiving any answer. Organizing a job and giving Deran his part of the money as well because he needed it, not even asking for what. When Deran was planning to leave and the only time he got emotional was when he talked to Pope and they said goodbye (Pope wishing him the best in doing what he could never do). When Smurf died, and in the will Pope’s inheritance was supposed to be handled by Deran. When Pope broke and left, Deran’s face when Pope told him he was having hallucinations and didn’t think he could come back. When Deran killed a man for the first time and he called Pope, who took care of it and wanted to help him through it, and his face when Deran pushed him away. When Pope asked Deran to look after Lena if something happened to him. The way Deran was trying to comfort and help Pope when Catherine’s murder came to light. Deran’s tears and denial when Pope told them to leave him in that house during the prison escape.
Sure, Pope and Baz had a whole different dynamic. Craig and Deran could as well as be twins at that point. But Pope and Deran? The sensitive boys. The softer ones. The older one that was hardened and manipulated into being a weapon, the violent crazy man. The younger one that always wanted to get away, the “runt”, the one that also perceived there was something “wrong” inside him at the beginning. Pope was Deran’s big brother. Pope was the closest thing Deran ever had to a father figure. His distress when Pope acted that way towards him in the first season just highlights how wrong it all was. How much Pope was really struggling. How different he was before and the dynamic between them