#“your mother wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me but i do i finally do

[slipperywhenwet0o0]

i think about damien coming from an entirely different culture, and that on top of with his initial rejection by bruce (and murder attempts putting distance between him and tim) making him feel isolated. He’s in an unfamiliar country with unfamiliar customs and unfamiliar people, hes alone and othered.

Then i think about little dick grayson who went through a somewhat similar thing. Romani practices being closed and so they leave with his parents, he’s not in the circus with the people he knows and loves, and i like to think this is the first time dicks been to america ( Haley’s primary touring europe). He’s in an unfamiliar country with unfamiliar customs and unfamiliar people, and before he found out about batman he is alone, in a big empty cold house.

I think about Damien beginning to feel shame at some point over his own culture because bruce is against the league, and his mixed feeling about his mother who loves him dearly but could not protect him, who sent him away.

I think about dick finding pride in his culture when he becomes robin, and later teaching Damien to have pride as well. To be who he is unapologetically, and to not be ashamed of where he comes from or his mother(despite dick and Thalia’s beef which i love)

[vivaciousoceans]

Your best American girl with the scene of Liv confronting Burton and coming to the realization that Serena may have just been trying to protect her

[deathxproof-archive]

Johnny introduces Susan to Mitski and Your Best American Girl emotionally devastates Susan for about 3-5 business weeks

[amourdyke]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ✷ 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐄

pjo fanfiction 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ your father wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me but i do i think i do, and you’re an all-american girl i guess i couldn’t help trying to be your best american girl ✷ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ooc clarisse, aphrodite’s daughter reader, fake dating, angst and pining

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

The words escaped her mouth before she could fully comprehend what was happening. Big bad Clarisse La Rue with a temper to mimic boiling water and the fight skills to ward off teasing has finally been a victim to it irredeemably as lies slipped past her lips spontaneously, unthinking.

“You had a girlfriend this whole time and none of us knew? Yeah, right, Clarisse, you’re full of shit”

“She used to date a Hephaestus chick, alright? Didn’t want anyone pointing out the whole history repeating itself trope of Aphrodite and Ares” A part of her is proud of her trope, a child of Apollo worthy storyline invented last minute, it seemed to not occur to her the way specifics would bite her in the ass until her sibling’s eyes sparkled mischievously, pointing towards the other end of the bonfire at a female figure she had not seen before, though apparently the only one who seemed to match characteristics.

“You mean to say you’re dating angel face over there?”

Your eyes caught hers for the first time in that moment, setting ablaze something at the pit of her stomach that had seemed to lay dormant far too long, hence the beginning of the relentless conversation she found herself in in the first place. “Yeah, that’s her, my girl” she concurs, taking a sip of her drink and staring off into your figure like a predator.

You first met Tori before you were claimed. She would sneak into the Hermes cabin to give you midnight kisses and hide freshly made jewellery she forged instead of armour under your pillow for surprises, adorning your neck in both purple bruises and metal chains, her own special claim on you. Until your mother showed face. It burned you to remember how she spoke, as though not knowing you, like Aphrodite you must be your mother’s daughter. A cheater, she meant. You still dreamed that your only claim was Tori’s kisses and necklaces on days like these where you watched her by the bonfire avoid your every glimpse.

And then someone’s grip is on your arm.

“I wonder what could the most infamous child of Ares possibly want with me” She raises her eyebrows at the nickname from you, someone she had not acknowledged nor recognized before today though the opposite could clearly not be said, the beginning of a smirk ghosting over her features.

“Is that what I am?”

“Don’t play dumb, Clarisse, it’s not your best look, you know exactly what you are, it’s your charm, that is if you’re into the whole bully chic thing”

“I need a favour from you” She wastes no time and you scoff in response, your eyes still seeking out Tori, anxiously hoping she does not see any of this interaction as to not play out scenarios in her head. Clarisse takes none of it. She grabs you by the chin, in a firm yet surprisingly careful hold and forces you to face her, wide brown eyes with a beauty you hadn’t quite recollected before seeing its warm specks up close like firecrackers trapped behind her irises. You shake off the thought and cross your arms.

“Why would I do you any favours? I bet you don’t even know my name, hell, I bet you don’t even know who I am in general–”

“You’re my girlfriend”

“I beg your pardon?” You nearly choke and Clarisse laughs.

“I’ve been watching you. You’ve been staring at that raven haired Hephaestus girl for the last forty minutes uninterrupted while I can quite easily point out at least six girls who have been drooling to get your attention in the last sixty and you haven’t even spared them a pity glance, so I’m going to guess that’s your ex?”

“What does that have to do with anything besides the fact you’re apparently a fucking stalker?”

“Feisty, angel face” She snarks “I need a girlfriend to get some people off my back for awhile and you apparently want your ex back, so why don’t you use that tiny love focused brain of yours and think for two seconds what makes someone temporarily lose their senses and say, get back together with their ex?”

“You want me to use you to make Tori jealous?”

“Do you really have anything to lose?”

You watch her train, that’s your first date, and it starts off as uninteresting as you guessed it would be. Until she’s flexing a little too much, and you’re catching on, of course, but it’s working, because you’re suddenly focused, mouth agape as she lifts up her shirt exposing her perfectly sculpted abdomen to clean sweat off her forehead with the orange cloth.

“Having fun gawking?” She teases.

“Isn’t that what you brought me here for?”

Clarisse twists her spear around in the air and finally settles it behind her flexed arms, moving towards you as she looks around the training grounds for something, eyes sparkling at the sight of a similar weapon to hers “You know how to fight, angel face?”

“I’m a demigod, Clarisse” She feigns fright at your words before rolling her eyes and moves to throw the spare spear towards you, which you take in hands overwhelmed. She steps back and motions you forward which for whatever reason you comply, before you know it her breath is hot on your neck, a whisper: “Your little ex is watching”

She wasn’t entirely truthful. Tori was there, but she barely spared you a glance. Clarisse’s siblings however watched her every move, and she was preparing a spectacle. Positioning herself behind you, hands on your waist as to fix your stance, she dismissed the way her fingers seemed to physically burn at the sensation of your skin desperately seeking out to touch you more and focused on pointing your aim at the dummy before you. It strikes him right in the heart first try and falls backwards on itself. You’re beaming. Clarisse’s chest squeezes. She forgets to let go of your love handles until you turn around.

“You look pretty when you’re deadly” She casually lets out, a sigh.

“Did Tori see your hands on me?” You look around, an attempt at casually catching your exes eye. You miss the way Clarisse frowns when she agrees nonchalantly. One of her siblings winks, she thinks to herself this was too much trouble.

“Okay I think that’s enough performing for a day”

“You’ll hurt me this way, princess. Can’t stand me that much? I don’t get it, did I dunk one of your friends on the toilet or something?”

“I don’t understand”

“Playing dumb isn’t your look either” Clarisse mimics your first encounter as she stares daggers at you. She looks like she could see right through your soul and it sends shivers down your spine.

“You really don’t remember me, huh?” You scoff, and Clarisse is furrowing her brows and attempting to dive into her memory but you’re quicker to refresh it “My first year here I was like a lost and kicked puppy. And you were the girl who killed the monster who nearly killed me and actually killed my satyr protector. I guess it was just another day for you but it was my worst nightmare and you were a fucking knight in shining armor, I thought so anyways. I followed you around for months, and what does it say that you didn’t even know my name until two days ago? You are probably the one most self centered person I have ever met and I was a stupid little girl with a crush who thought you could save me while you actively terrorised everyone who was nice to you. Including me. And you don’t even remember taunting me, because it was just another fucking wednesday. So maybe I’m not enthusiastic about playing your girlfriend for longer than I have to”

It suddenly dawns on her, the memory of you. You looked different now, she guessed those were some perks of growing up as an Aphrodite kid but staring at your face, hurt expression, made the resemblance uncanny. To the one person she regretted hurting. She had just lost a fight and you had ran after her for comfort, but Ares had seen it. So there was nothing you could say. She wanted someone to hurt like she was hurting as though it would take her own pain away. She lost the fucking fight because she looked for you in the audience as she was winning. Affection made her weak. She made you pay for it.

“You called me a stupid girl who doesn’t know when to leave people alone and that’s why no one could stand me. Ring a bell?” You turned around to leave when Clarisse was silent. She surprised herself when she spoke up.

“Well let me teach you to hate me less!” She called out, running her hand through her curls frantically “We can’t do this if you don’t stand the sight of me, my siblings won’t buy it, your ex girlfriend who knows you certainly won’t either. Let’s go out and talk and maybe you’ll like something about me, I don’t know”

“Why does it matter so much to you that you have a girlfriend? Why do your siblings care? Answer me this and I might go with you”

“Fucking Gods, you’re insufferable” She mutters “Because I’m tired of being the one with no life, okay? All I have is training, and everyone knows that and I hate when they start worrying so I need anything to ward it off and I guess relationship maybe screams reason to live and not dying to be a war martyr so this is what I got, okay? It’s stupid, but it’s what I got”

“Alright”

“Alright?”

“I’ll try to like you, Clarisse”

She leads you to the forest in the middle of the night as to not alert anyone. The moon is full and it lights up her face in a way that softens her usually rough features. It is strange how your hands meet eachothers halfway in a hold until you reach your destination, a lake surrounded by flowers. You’re taking off your clothes, stripping into underwear before Clarisse could even fully process it, her eyes widening at the sight of your unbuttoning jeans reaching your calves, then the floor.

“Aren’t you coming?” You say as you stumble into the water. She watches you, the same way she had at the bonfire, and feels guilt pool at her throat for the way she gazed at your body. Clarisse wants to put a word to her feeling and all that comes to mind is hungry. She feels hungry. Like she could bite into your skin and tarnish its softness, like she needs to.

She takes off her clothes as well, skin still hot despite the cold air embracing her suddenly. You watch her too, she notices. Though she can’t pinpoint the look in your eye as she walks into the lake and heads towards you, stopping until your chests barely touch. There’s unusual heavy breathing from the both of you, hypnotised. You’re sure you won’t speak of it tomorrow.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m trying to find things to like about you, work with me here”

“I like red. Like blood”

“Like love” Clarisse doesn’t bother to reply to your argument, but it makes a part of her shake. War and romance unfortunately have too many things in common, she notes to herself.

“My turn. Why do you want your ex back?”

“Because she was good to me. She was kind and soft and she liked me. I miss feeling like someone cares like that”

“Aren’t you Aphrodite’s daughter? Doesn’t that sound a little like the bare minimum? She’s good to you? She’s kind? Didn’t she stop being those things when it ended?”

“You don’t know anything about relationships, Clarisse, you’ve never had one. I’m difficult, I’m a cheater’s kid, I’m–”

“You’re beautiful. Breathtaking, like your mom. Maybe that’s the only thing you got from her. You can aim. You’re strong. You’re apparently vengeful at least towards me which in my books is an attractive quality, you’re witty and you get little crinkles around your eyes when you laugh. I’m going to guess you didn’t cheat on that ex of yours so you’re not an asshole, for sure not a cheater. You give people chances when they don’t deserve it. I’m not quite following what could be so damn difficult about you”

You stay silent for awhile. Thinking. She hates herself for not knowing what it is that you think, and regrets saying so many things in your quietness. Then you whisper something she doesn’t catch and she asks you to say it again and in clear noise it sounds as shocking as it did when she first thought to have tricked her ears: “You never had a relationship, have you ever been kissed?”

Clarisse shakes her head no.

“Can I kiss you?” You correct yourself as you lean in, placing a curl behind her ear “Just in case we need to do this in front of your siblings or Tori, so we’re ready”

“Right” Clarisse mumbles as her hands snake her way around your waist pulling your body closer to fully press against hers “Just in case” she finishes whispering before her lips finds yours. There’s more desire than you both thought there would be. It’s desperate. Messy. Tongues clashing and chests heaving. She wants to taste you forever. She thinks she’s screwed.

[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils - Part 5

Summary: Reader returns to her childhood home only to move to a new home the next day. How will she cope?

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dark! Modern Aemond x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DUBCON to Consensual, AFAB reader, Smut (p in v, oral sex f&m receiving, orgasm denial, teasing, creampie, Dom vibes, choking, food play?), verbal arguments, cursing, tension, feelings of anxiety, feelings of hate, manipulation, Aemond not being a total jerk at the end? Lmk if there’s any I missed!

Word Count: 4790

A/N: This was split off of part 4, then I added some smut. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Your childhood bed was warm and stiffer than you remembered but you slept well regardless. Something about being home, being safe, surrounded by familiar smells and sounds, allowed you to fully rest, but now, the sun had long since risen and it was time for a nostalgic breakfast. 

Pulling on some pajama shorts and a crewneck sweatshirt, you drug your sleepy self from bed, lumbering down the steps to the living room, rubbing your eyes. The smell of bacon permeated through the small cottage home  and as you neared the bottom of the steps, you heard your mother call your name from the kitchen as she had when you were growing up when breakfast was early ready; allotting you time to get out of bed and get downstairs before the food went cold. 

Sleep wouldn’t quite leave your eyes and you reached up to rub the drowsiness from them with your sweatshirt sleeve, yawning. Your mother scolded you lightly, “Dear, we have company, you should go upstairs and change-”

Your arm dropped from your face quickly to find that evading your nightmares wasn't an option in this personal hell of a life you were sentenced to. 

Silver hair. Eye-patch. Finely tailored suit.

Maybe that song your dad used to sing in the back garden was right, maybe the devil does in fact wear a suit and tie. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is flat and devoid of fear despite the fact you very much were filled to the brim with it. Maybe anger at him invading such a sacred place of yours took precedent… finally.

Your mom turned around with a hand on her hip, “That’s no way to speak to your-”

Aemond raised his hand, silencing your mother with a soft smile. The action made you nauseous; no one silences your mother so easily. “Please, it’s alright.” He turned to you, “I came here to meet your parents and ask formally, this time, for your hand in marriage.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at your mom. She shook her head with a sweet smile, “Honey, if you were running here because you were scared of marriage, you should have thought of that before you got pregnant. Now here, Mr. Targaryen is trying to make things right.”

‘Trying to make things right’ felt like a stab in the gut, fueled by betrayal. 

“Mom I-”

Aemond cut you off, “Perhaps we can speak alone?” He looks over to your mother with the smile of a snake and she returns it, mayhaps without the reptilian features. 

“Of course, I’ll be out in the back garden with your father,” she tells you before she wipes her hands on her apron and exits the room. 

You stare at Aemond as he stares back at you with his lone eye. He hears the backdoor open and shut before he speaks. “I told you to stay.”

You pull up a chair opposite of him. “Like a dog,” you bite back. “What did you tell my parents?”

A sly smirk pulls at his lips, “I think you understand the predicament we’re in.” He leans back, grabbing his teacup and bringing it to his lips, “your mother loves me by the way.” He sips, smiling like a Cheshire cat, lone eye studying his prey.

“She also prefers my brother over me so I’d take her approval with a grain of salt.”

He frowns slightly, bringing the cup back down to the table. “They know the baby is mine and they know I am planning on taking care of you, and it, financially.” His eye flickers up to you triumphantly, “And they also know that I proposed to you, my girlfriend of three years and you had your doubts and came to see them.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You told them we have been a couple for three years and they believed you?”

Aemond smirked, shrugging lazily. “Apparently you do not talk to your parents enough for them to know much about you.”

Anger rose within you, making you begin to sweat with loathing. How did Aemond seem to get away with every little thing? It was like he walked and the grass parted a path for him. He seemed untouchable; making your cause seem hopeless.

“Go upstairs and pack, we’re leaving.” HIs command was stern with no room for contest.

You shook your head despite this, “I’m not going with you. No.”

Aemond stood from the table slowly, towering over you. His hand snaked down reverently from the top of your hair, along your cheekbone, landing beneath your chin and pulled your face up to look at him. “I’ve done things in a quite unorthodox matter at the beginning of this relationship-”

“This isn’t a relationship.”

He barely contained a sneer, you felt the anger boiling just underneath his skin but he kept it from burning you…surprisingly. “Whatever you want to call it- relationship, understanding-”

“Containment-” you cut.

“-whatever,” his voice raised slightly, “you may call it.” He returned to his false softened hum, “I believe I can do better by you and our child. You have to give me that chance.”

Your eyes met his lone blue and you knew you had no choice….for now.

“Okay.”

He looked half shocked, probably suspecting more of a fight. “Okay? Okay. Yes,” he pulled his hand from you. “I will arrange for us to leave immediately. Go upstairs and pack what you need.”

You stood from the table, “All of my essentials are in Sunspear.”

Aemond pulled out his phone, bringing it to his ear. “Well, we aren’t going back to Sunspear so I’ll just buy new essentials unless anything cannot be replaced.”

You looked at him in confusion, “Where are we going then?”

Someone on the other end of the line began speaking so he mouthed what looked like ‘King’s Landing’ before he started barking orders into the phone.

Kings Landing.

The drive to the Crownlands took a few hours and every bit of that time was spent with Aemond on the phone, rearranging your life, unenrolling you from your college, and closing your account at your bank in Sunspear. With every call, you started to grow more and more anxious.

How is he able to do all of these things without my permission or consent?

At the final call, the one where he closed out your membership to the student credit union, he looked over at you. “We are close to my estate now.”

You remained staring out the back door’s window, “How were you able to do all of that without my permission?”

The car slowed and began to turn, Aemond leaned up to the driver, mumbling the code to the driveway gates. Once he leaned back, he looked sideways to you, “I thought you were well aware I had plenty of connections.”

A pit grew in your stomach as you drove through the gates of the estate. A large, white stone home sat proudly in the nicest part of King’s Landing; the homebase of Westeros’ rich, powerful and corrupt. A tall hedge bush ran along the property lines, behind it, you could see glimpses of an iron-wrought fence at least twelve feet high. Physically, there would be no escaping the property.

The car parked beneath the carport at the very front of the house, Aemond opened the door and exited his side, you followed; pulling the handle and exiting. Aemond rounded the car, grabbing your arm a little too harshly and leaning in next to your ear. “We are to be married soon, wait for me to open the door.”

His harsh scolding gave you chills as he pulled back from you with a smile as if nothing had happened. “Allow me to show you the manor.”

Red roses adorned the foundation of the home and when you stepped inside, the floors were marble. Nothing was out of place, everything was extravagant and lavish. Aemond had walked you through the entire first floor (where a butler or maid was scattered purposefully about every three rooms) before leading you upstairs. You had hoped the second floor didn’t have another random person who would pop out from behind a plant or tall vase just to add to your embarrassment as you were paraded through the home as its new captive; fortunately, there were none. 

Aemond led you to a set of double doors, pushing a single open and leading you through gently. “This is our room,” he stated plainly as day. 

You shook your head, “No. I want my own room.”

He fixed you with a look that scorched your skin. “Absolutely not.”

So you used his own logic against him with the words ‘be a river’ giving you the courage to do so. “Aemond,” you reasoned lightly, lighter than natural for you, “I uh, don’t want to assume anything but to my understanding… you want the image of a perfect life.”

His brow furrowed, immediately with shock and before it could resolve to anger, you spoke again.

“I see the white house, the roses, the perfectly manicured yard. I saw the butlers and maids downstairs alongside the decorations that I wouldn’t particularly attribute to your style - not that I know your style, we are just strangers whom you’ve decided should conceive-”

Aemond snorted, anger clearly beginning to rise within him but you continued on.

“I also saw the Seven Pointed Star several times throughout my tour. Decorations…books… and I know that’s the predominant religion of Westeros. You being a politician and all, I’m sure you want to look the part, even if you don’t believe in it, I can almost guarantee you don’t.”

“I do,” he retorted.

You smiled, taking a step toward him, “Interesting.” He looked at you with a thin veil of confusion. “Anyway, what I’m getting at is that it’s quite obvious that this house,” you gestured vaguely around you as you stepped closer to him, “is all for show. You moved me here,” pointing to yourself, “for show. I know your intentions, I understand what I am to you…so I ask you to allow me to have my own room until we are wed. If anything, it’s only for show.” You smiled up at him, feeling you aced him.

He simply smiled back, leaning down slightly. His smile made your triumph falter and fade. “I knew I liked you for a reason, you’re incredibly…perceptive.” His eye leveled you with a glance from your eyes, to your shoes and back up again. “Fine,” he straightened, “you’ll get your own room…until we are wed.”

You blew hot air through your nose, feeling anger festering in your pores. “And when is that?” 

Aemond turned from you, pulling his suit jacket off and placing it on the mattress. “Two weeks.”

Your blood ran cold, “Two weeks? How can you plan a wedding in two weeks?”

Aemond laughed as he loosened his tie, “I’ve had someone on it for a while now-”

“Show me my room please,” anger, resentment, hate boiled through your veins and ignited your heart. “I need some space.”

Aemond chuckled, “Take your pick.” He motioned toward the door, expecting you to find your own way out. You turned and began marching for the door when you heard him call out, “Just remember, you said the bedroom is ‘just for show.”

Turning back toward him, you glared. Of course he wouldn’t let you leave without an innuendo and threat. “Fuck you,” you spat and turned back for the doors, pushing hard. Before you were out of earshot, you heard him laughing to himself with a “soon enough” coming from his lips.

You picked the room furthest from his, on the other side of the second floor entirely. Locking the door as soon as you got into the room despite the fact that the door could be unblocked from the outside. So, for extra measure, you managed to push a dresser in front of the door, more effectively blocking yourself in. 

Safe.

The feeling of dread left you quickly and you felt safe enough to take a shower, wrapping yourself in your towel and laying in the soft bed. You check your phone for the first time today to see you have no messages or calls. You try to call your dad, explain why you left in such haste but your phone would not ring out. No phone service. No carrier.

The fucker turned off my phone too?

Bitterly anger turned into hopelessness which turned into tears. And like how most of your nights went recently, your tears lulled yourself to sleep.

A field of tall grass surrounded you as the soft wind blew your hair. You looked around you to see a river rushing along the base of the hill you were standing on. The river rushed proudly against the grey landscape pushing and pulling where it dared. Then suddenly, the river changed its course, pummeling straight up the hill for you. Sand and loamy clay was left dry where it ceased flowing. Now, at the bottom of the river lies the grass that surrounded you, held you, protected you. You had mere seconds to think before the river reached you and you had yet to think of anything but the cold waves approaching. Suddenly, the sky overhead was dark and thunder thumped hard against the sky. Thump. Thump. Thump.

You awakened to thunder, sitting up in bed. You look around the room in a daze from your previous slumber. The night is dark, starry, clear.

The room thunders again. 

Knocking.

Aemond calls your name from behind the doors. 

“Go away!” Your voice doesn’t tremble, you’re safe behind the doors with the dresser blocking you in. The sounds cease, you find sleep again with less ease.

In the morning, you stand staring at the doors after having moved the dresser, contemplating if your hunger is worth emerging from your hiding spot. The grumble in your stomach pushes you to open the doors and reassures you that Aemond won’t try anything stupid in front of his hired help. You walk to where you remember the kitchen is, bare feet padding against the cold marble floors, without seeing a single person. The sun has been up for a few hours now and you grow uneasy at the fact there aren’t people here to bear witness and pass judgment on Aemond if he were to do something inappropriate but the house is quiet…too quiet. You wonder if he is even home.

You stop in the middle of the kitchen, listening for footsteps or even life; all you hear is the ticking of a grandfather clock several rooms away. Aemond must not be home. 

Relief trickled through you as you opened the fridge, cool light flooding across your face. Picking the easiest thing, a yogurt cup, you closed the fridge then searched the multitude of drawers before you found the silverware drawer and plucked a spoon from it. Quickly, you headed back upstairs with your scavenged breakfast in case Aemond came back early. Opening the strawberry yogurt cup and dipping into it with a spoon, you ate a bite on the way back to your new room until movement stopped you dead in your tracks. 

Your eyes locked with Aemond as he was stepping out of your room. 

“What are you doing?”

A flash of a glare ran across his face, if you blinked, you would have missed it. “You’re not supposed to eat food outside the kitchen or dining room.”

You narrowed your eyes, reiterating, “What are you doing in my room?”

He challenged you, narrowing his own back. “Not. Your. Room. I own this house.”

“Sorry, my space in this hellscape you call a home,” you shifted your stance.

He took a step toward you from the door, “Don’t ever lock yourself in again.”

You laughed, “I’m not your free use slave. You can’t come in and fuck me whenever you want-”

Aemond shook his head, “I was worried about you last night, you had screamed in your sleep-”

“You good-for-nothing jackass…I don’t talk in my sleep, let alone scream. Quit lying and stay the fuck away from me.” Anger overrode your body as he took more steps toward you, causing you to fling the yogurt cup at him, splashing across his face and body. 

He was shocked for several moments, mouth hanging agape, before his eye settled on you; you trying to suppress your laughter behind your two hands clasped over your mouth.

“You little bi-”

Before he could finish, you turned tail and ran, gleeful you’d made an actual mess of him and feeling some sort of victory in doing so. You heard him swear behind you then, the thundering footsteps closing in quickly behind you. 

With nowhere to escape to, you ran into his bedroom, shutting the doors behind you with barely enough time. His pounding on the doors rattled the wood just after you had locked the handles. He called your name behind the wood and you just laughed again, feeling bested the beast in his own home. 

“You’re gonna have to be quicker than that- '' came your sing-song voice in a mocking tone. 

Immediately, the banging ceased. The speed at quick Aemond gave up his pursuit gave you an awful feeling in your stomach but thinking about it was short lived when you saw that in your valor of throwing the yogurt on Aemond, you had spilled a long drop down your shirt and thighs. Cursing to yourself silently, you made your way into the bathroom.

Flicking on the lights, in search of whatever vanity drawer Aemond stored his washrags in so you could wipe the pink yogurt from your only pair of clothes. You didn’t find it in any of the top drawers so bending down, you continued your search for something to wipe off the residue. Soon, you found the drawer containing the washrags and plucking one from the drawer, you stood, turning on the water and running the rag under it until it was fully soaked and warm. Only then, did you look up from the vanity countertop and into the mirror; jumping in fright.

Aemond was standing behind you, smirking. Like a cougar watching his prey from the trees.

You turned quickly, and tried to shove the wet rag in his face only for him to grab you and spin you around to face yourself in the mirror, your hands subdued tightly behind your back. You then noticed another door, slightly ajar, it looked like it led to a large walk-in closet that must have been connected to the hall. 

“That wasn’t very nice of you-”

“Leave me alone,” you struggled weakly in his grip. The pain in your wrist igniting once more.

He chuckled and pressed himself harshly against you, smearing the pink goo across the back of your shirt. “I think we need to clean up, don’t you?”

“Nope, all fine,” you gritted out as you struggled in his hold.

His nose came to press against your throat, you felt your heartbeat quicken as he inhaled your scent. “You, at least, need to clean me.” Without giving you time to process, he hauled you toward the shower, pushing you in and then stepping inside himself. You offered him only a quizzical glare before he turned the showerhead on and began soaking you through your clothes. You huffed and backed out of the water stream and he closed you in, water now drenching him and his clothes; he didn’t seem to care as he began to strip the wet clothes from his body. “Clean the mess you made and you’re free to go.” 

It seemed too easy, too simple. He definitely wouldn't leave it at that. 

Regardless, you began collecting water in your hands as he continued to strip. With trepidation, you moved your hands to his face, wiping a splatter of pink from his cheekbone; trying not to look at his smug expression. His skin was coarse against your fingers. Something about the action was intimate, close, you hated it; it made you feel at ease in his presence.

He bent down, stripping his underwear from his body, completely nude now. However, the rest of the mess was left on his clothes, his skin was clean now.

“I’m done,” you announced with no emotion, trying to conceal embarrassment behind impassiveness. 

He tutted gently, “You’ve made quite a mess of my cock too. You need to clean that up as well.” He glanced down to his member, returning his triumphant smirk to your face. 

You narrowed your eyes, “That’s your own doing. I’m not-”

He brought a hand up to your thigh, collecting some of the yogurt that hadn’t been washed away and rubbed it along his cockhead. 

“Seems like you did make a mess, sweet river, now be a good girl and this’ll all be over.”

HIs honeyed tone was laced with something addictive and once again, you felt yourself falling victim to whatever charm this snake held over you. When his hand came up to your shoulder and pushed you down, you found yourself falling to your knees for him while your glare never left his face. That was, until you were face to face with his manhood, tip smeared with pink. Your mouth watered against your wishes and your eyes glanced back up to him as water trickled down his toned abs, valleying around the base of his and his heavy sac.

Just do what he wants, a voice told you and you gave in.

Carefully, you stuck your tongue out, licking some pink from the bottom of his ruddy head. You heard him shudder at such a small action and it excited you; the thought of reducing him to your whim as he often did to you. So, your tongue swirled around his head again, taking just the tip of him into your mouth and sucking wet and slowly, letting saliva, mixed with yogurt and precum fall down past your lips to be washed down the drain with the rest of the water that fell off of him. You felt him buck against your mouth, releasing a small, barely audible whine when you pulled back from his charge. His hand flew to your hair, eye scrunched shut. He didn’t attempt to move you further onto his cock, rather, hold you steady. “Fuck- please,” he all but groaned as you continued licking and sucking just the tip. 

Smiling, you pulled off of him. “I think you’re clean now.” Your hands in your lap, his hand in your hair. He opened his eye and looked down at you with an annoyed, lazy glare. “Finish,” he all but demanded.

You shook your head. “That would make a bigger mess.”

He rolled his eye, “Okay, let’s see how you like it.”

And before you could process what he was doing, he pulled you up, pulling down your pajama bottoms and underwear in one swift motion, backing you against the cold, tiled wall of the shower and sinking to his knees before you. His mouth was on your cunt like a madman and he hiked one of your legs up with a strong hand, giving him freer access to your womanhood.

His tongue circled your clit like a vulture before he zeroed in, suckling gently. Your hands flew into his wet hair, entangling as you whined and threw your head back a little too harshly against the wall, making the back of your head sting in residual pain but you didn’t care, all you could focus on was the intense pleasure he was ripping from you.

His other hand came up to play with your entrance, lithe fingers dancing, teasing, but never acting in the way you wanted them to, needed them to. You ground down, trying to impale yourself on the fingers that played at your entrance to no avail. Aemond chuckled against your folds, pulling himself from them to look up at your ecstasy ridden face. 

“Don’t like it?”

You huffed, running a hand over your eyes, wanting nothing more than to hide yourself from his goading. “Shut up.”

“How about I grant both of your wishes while you grant mine?” He stood, pulling your top and bra off, depositing them in the heap of clothes at the bottom of the foggy shower.

His hands ran up your ribcage, stopping just below your breasts and cupping them. He placed tender kisses on each one, tongue running along the soft skin. 

“Which is?” Your breath was heavy. This is wrong but at the moment, it’s so right. 

“I’ll shut up and we both get to come,” he added a kiss to your collarbone.

“Are you actually asking me permission?” You could have laughed.

He suckled on the skin just below your ear, making you repress a breathy whine.

“I told you I’d treat you better.”

You chuckled this time, grabbing his wet hair and pulling him away from your skin so he could look at you. “Okay. Fuck me Aemond.”

His face cracked with a soft smile and he cocked his head, “Manners…”

You rolled your eyes and grasped his cock, stroking the velvety skin, pulling it closer to your aching core. “I think we’re long past manners…don’t you?” 

Aemond huffed a singular chuckle through his nose before he hiked one of your legs up and aligned himself, sinking into your core in a slow, purposeful thrust. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you; how he made you feel so full. No one could make you feel like this and you were painfully aware that he knew it.

He began thrusting into you in earnest, chasing a high he had been denied by your lips and newfound victory in your cunt. He steadied himself with a hand on the wall beside your head as his rough pounding became faster, pulling and pushing against that delicate spot inside you that had you whining and wrapping your arms around his shoulders and neck. 

“Play with yourself, “ he commanded through rough thrusts.

Your brain was nearly too fucked out to comprehend he had even spoke.

He grunted, delivering a harsh thrust. “I said play with yourself.” He panted, “M’ Close and want you to cum on my cock to finish me.”

You obeyed a bit too quickly, moving a hand down between where you two were joined, rubbing your clit gently and sometimes, teasing him by moving further and caressing his shaft as if emerged and sunk back into your heat. 

“Fuck- fuck- don’t do that.”

You cocked your head to the side, bobbing with each snap of his hips, “Do what?”

Your playful ignorance ignited a more severe side of him and his hand came up and wrapped around your throat, “Don’t- fuck, you like that don’t you? You like it when I’m rough with you?”

It was true, the moment his hand wrapped around your throat possessively, you clenched around him and nearly came. You could be just as brazen though.

Before he knew it, your hands intertwined in his hair, pulling him close to you. Your mouth was on his lips, kissing him with a fever that took him off guard. Lips interlocking, you sucked on his plump bottom lip before forcing your tongue down his throat that he greedily took in.

Suddenly and without warning, Aemond thrusted forward, driving deeper inside you and groaning against your lips as he came harder than he ever had. You felt the hot spend coating your insides and nearly sent you over the edge as he pulsated, hot and heavy in your cunt.

His lips slowly fell from your own as he came down from his high and pulled back, looking at you with a strange reverie in his eye as if he was studying a new species of animal only he had just found.

His cock, still lodged deep inside of you as you ground yourself against him, making him break his trance and hiss in overstimulation; pulling out of you. “You lied,” you said simply as his cum started dripping down your thighs. “But I guess that’s all you ever do, isn’t it?”

His eye searched your own, a confused look on his face. “You said you’d shut up and we both got to come. Only you came and I didn’t. Oh, and you didn’t shut up. You talked a whole lot.”

He chuckled, turning off the shower and kicking the drenched pile of clothes off to the side, “Well, I know how I can fix that.” He took your hand and moved you to sit down on the shower floor. “Lay your pretty head on those clothes and spread your legs.”

As always, comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated but never necessary!

*Bold means I cannot tag you*

Taglist: @croatianprincess @toodlesxcuddles @drwstarkeyy @gemini-mama @iloveallmyboys @boofy1998 @ammo23 @zenka69 @lokiofasgard12 @moonlightfoxx @diannnnsss @winter-soldier-101

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[letz-smoke-zaza]

"you’re the one, you’re all I ever wanted

I think I’ll regret this

Your mother wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me

But I do, I finally do

And you’re an all-American boy

I guess I couldn’t help trying to be the best American girl

Your mother wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me

But I do, I think I do…"

— Your Best American Girl, Mitski

(when people act like it is not about what it IS about… 👀)

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

someone more talented than me needs to make an edit of Jinx and Isha to Your Best American Girl by mitski specifically the part that goes ‘your mother wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me but I do I finally do’

and it starts with Vi and Vandor and then Jinx and Silco and then Jinx with Isha please someone understand my vision

[shintaru]

Before I die, I'm tryna fuck you, baby Hopefully we don't have no babies | Dom Kang pt.1 part 2, & part 3

Goes with these nsfw head canons

m.list ♡ taglist You and Shelly got stuck with babysitting thanks to her grandfather volunteering her to do so and of course she had to drag you along. Even though your original plans to go shopping with Shelly got postponed for another time due to unforeseen circumstances you don’t mind.

You love kids, you'd like to have some one day. You and Shelly study as the kids you’re babysitting are napping. “Shit I forgot my homework at school” you tell Shelly. “The guys had to stay back with Jay for a meeting with my grandfather because of their last race you can ask Dom if he can bring you your homework” she responds. “Thank you!! You’re a lifesaver” you tell her as you text Dom asking him to bring your homework. He agrees to bring it to you and you tell Shelly.

While you both wait on Dom you continue using Shelly’s homework to study as you both talk. “Do you think my mother in law would approve of me having Jay’s kid?” Shelly asks. You make a semi shocked expression. “First you both need to get married then maybe you can think about the kids” you tell Shelly “I know but you seen how she was when he stayed away from home for a few days it makes me worried that she won’t like me”  she responds pouting with rose colored cheeks “Shelly everyone one likes you, she’s going to love you” you reassure her. Which has her bouncing back to normal. “What about you?” She asks. “Huh what about me?” You ask “well do you want to have kids one day?” She asks “yeah I’d love to have them some day” you respond before Shelly could say anything else Dom walks in and announces he has your homework.

You rush over and hug him, thanking him for bringing it to you. You can’t afford to have another failing grade. Little did you know Dom had overheard your conversation with Shelly about having kids. He’s had a crush on you for ages and thought about you having his kids. So the fact you want to have kids makes him ecstatic. 

Dom can’t get it out of his head the whole time the humming birds make him train for a full week without breaks except to eat and sleep. You and Dom didn’t have the chance to hang out much during this time. 

“The end of the week is finally here”  Dom shouts to Minu happily. Their training sessions with Shelly’s grandfather are finally over. Dom was supposed to go to the mall with you a few days ago but Shelly’s grandfather made them have a meeting about their race saying they needed to train more and made them train right then and there with no exceptions. So to make it up to you Dom decided he would go to your house and surprise you with watching all your favorite movies together. 

Dom walks in on you bent over pulling the stockings up on your lingerie giving him a full view of your ass and pussy .Dom immediately gets hard, you don’t notice him at first still struggling with the garters attached to your stockings. If you were anyone else Dom would leave without mentioning anything to spare the person from embarrassment unless it was one of the boys then he’d laugh seeing them naked or he wouldn’t even think about it but with you he just can’t take his eyes off you.

He takes in the sight of your red lingerie set as you struggle fixing your stockings you had on a thin lace bra on with a mini skirt that conveniently for him does a horrible job at covering anything. 

Especially since you had no underwear on, having your pussy and ass on full display for him. You had matching  stockings that squeezed your thighs just right. He was in a daze when you raised back up to look in the mirror after you get  your lingerie situated. You take a second to admire yourself when you notice Dom in the mirror behind you. Shocked, you try to cover yourself.

Dedicated to @cozyunderworld @samuelseowife

[psychopomp-recital]

Your mother wouldn’t approve…

Of how my mother raised me…

But I do…

I finally do….

[sunbleachedyves]

your mother wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me, but i do. i finally do.

[until-mourning]

Your mother wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me

But I do…

I finally do…

[therealslimshakespeare]

Fancam Game

Rules: Pick 5 songs you think would be used for fancam videos if your OC was canon and tag 5 people.

Ida Brady 🦢

1. All American Girl by Mitski

“Your mother wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me but I do, I finally do, and you’re an all American boy, I guess I couldn’t help trying to be your best American girl.”

2. Love Like Ghosts - Lord Huron

Yes I know that love is like ghosts

Oh, few have seen it, but everybody talks

Spirits follow everywhere I go

Oh they sing all day and they haunt me in the night

Oh they sing all day and they haunt me in the night

Yes I know that love is like ghosts

Oh, and what ain't living can never really die

3. Sunny Side of the Street

Grab your coat, and don’t forget your hat but leave your worries, leave ‘em on the doorstep, life’s sweet, just direct your feet to sunny side of the street

4. Asleep in the Back by Gang of Youths

“Show your scars, not to rush you -oh you had ask, didn’t you? You just had to know, oh you had to ask didn’t you”

5. We’ll Never Have Sex -Leith Ross

… You look perfect, you look different I don't wonder about your indifference If I said you could never touch me You'd come over and say I looked lovely

[dianakc]

Trouble in paradise

Fandom: North and South

It was the end of another long day for John. Regularly now he’d been getting up with the early morning factory whistle and finishing at the mill in the evening, when the last shift of workers went home. He would then recommence work after dinner in his study. Business had improved notably in recent weeks with three large orders coming in which had stretched the workforce, but these orders from new clients held the promise of further future contracts. Yes, business was booming and he needed to make the most of it.

Margaret had started to sit in John’s study in the evenings, just so that she could have some waking time with him. She looked up from her book and stared at her beloved husband. He was getting thinner and worked so hard. Margaret wondered how she could help him. She determined to put some careful thought into it.

The following day was Saturday and John finished earlier than had become customary over the last few weeks. After dinner, Margaret asked John if he would like to partake in some refreshment that evening in her room. Hannah Thornton rolled her eyes and tutted. John, however, was more than game and, despite his weariness, he held his wife’s hand and let her lead him upstairs. Margaret’s room had unofficially turned into ‘their’ room as John never spent a night away from his wife’s side, and the maids had ceased to even make his bed up any more.

John sat in his customary seat by the fireside. Margaret poured them both a drink, handed John his then, instead of sitting in her chair, she sat saucily on his knee.

A small smile tugged up the side of John’s mouth and he raised his eyebrows, “Now then, what’s this about? You wouldn’t be takin’ advantage of your poor worn out husband would you dearest?” he teased.

Margaret smiled back adoringly, “No….but I did want to talk to you about something.”

A crease appeared on John’s brow, “Oh yes? Is somethin’ wrong my love?” he asked, stroking her back tenderly.

“I wish to help you…at the mill, and have a plan!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement.

“No.”

“But John, let me explain,”

“No.”

“John, I,”

“No. Margaret this is my final word on it,” and he shuffled in his seat suggesting he wanted Margaret to get off.

“But won’t you at least listen?”

“Margaret. I am workin’ ‘ard to provide for this family and improve the lives of my workers. I’m sorry it does not meet with your approval and that you think you could do better,”

“John,”

“I’m not havin’ my wife workin’ in the mill and that is final,” John’s voice was raised by now and he wore a black scowl. Margaret thought he’d never looked more handsome.

Margaret spoke quietly and touched his sleeve, “I am not criticising at all. I wish to help. Will you not just listen?”

“Margaret! No!” John got up, propelling Margaret from him, swigged down his drink in one and left the room, stomping off to his study to simmer down.

When John came to bed later that night Margaret was asleep, or so he thought, curled up in a ball with her back to ‘his side’ of the bed. He lay down next to her, hoping their disagreement would have blown over by the morning, and was soon asleep from pure exhaustion.

John’s hopes for resumption of the equilibrium between himself and Margaret were dashed. Margaret was livid, not particularly because he would disagree with her idea, but because he would not even listen to her. Her overriding urge was to storm through the house slamming every door as hard as possible and to kick some unfortunate inanimate object very hard. However, she realised that letting her temper get the better of her would not be the best way to tackle John. No, she would take a different approach altogether.

Over the next five days John thought he could count on one hand the number of words Margaret had spoken to him. Strangely, she seemed more than happy to chatter away to his mother, but should he speak to her he either got a single word reply or not even that. Hannah observed the couple. Trouble in paradise! Now this will be interesting.

The less Margaret spoke to him, the more John wanted to talk to her. While he was still grappling with an immense workload, he would seek her out if he had a few spare minutes in the day, but she apparently was always engaged in some activity that did not require his interference.

Two weeks later John had gone from initial anger to irritation that they had fallen out. Irritation had given way to worry. He had been so vexed with her at first, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think why. Increasingly he was getting the impression that he had in fact irretrievably damaged his relationship with Margaret, and he was now down right needy. He followed her about attempting to engage her with conversation or just to be in her company; wherever she sat in the evening was where he situated himself. He tried to tempt her out for walks, but she had already been without him. He purchased tickets to a musical recital at the Milton concert hall, but she had a headache and insisted Fanny go with him instead. He bought her fruit, but he saw Mary Higgins going home with suspiciously similar wares in her basket. I’ve ruined it. Does she not love me anymore? What a great rough fool I am.

Hannah observed John’s change in manner and emotions over the last two weeks. Although she had no idea what had brought about this turn of events, she was amused and had a begrudging respect for how Margaret was handling this disagreement with her son. She had him completely wrong footed. There had been no shouting or hysterics as Fanny would have behaved if she was cross with John; he would know how to handle that. No, Margaret was a much different animal.

Margaret remained polite, quiet, and composed. In fact, with John she was virtually silent and avoided any physical contact. It was driving him to distraction. He was at a complete loss as to how to deal with the situation he found himself in. John maintained sleeping in the same bed with Margaret but he was gradually more worried that she would send him away. Instead she slept with her back to him, their bodies never touching.

Margaret, despite her glacial exterior, had also experienced a range of emotions. Initially she had been incandescent that John would not listen to her. Now she fluctuated between feeling lonely, as she longed for their relationship to be mended, and powerful, as she could see the turmoil she was inflicting on poor John.

Such was John’s desperation and misery that after three weeks he was ready to grovel and beg for a crumb of affection from his wife. One evening Margaret had retired to their room to read, without inviting him to join her, naturally. John tentatively entered the room and instead of sitting in his chair he knelt by her feet and touched her skirt with hesitant fingers.

“Please Margaret, my love, I am sorry,” he whispered, “have I ruined our marriage already? Do you still love me? I miss you so,” he said, his beautiful blue eyes engaged with hers and suspiciously watery.

Margaret touched his hair, the first contact she had with him in three weeks. “Oh John, of course I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”

Relief washed over John and he took Margaret’s hands in his, bringing them to his lips and he pressed soft kisses on them. How she had missed his kisses.

“But John I must tell you, although I love you, I have not liked you. You have most grievously offended me,” she said gently.

“Because I don’t want you workin’ with the spinners and weavers?” he said with trepidation. This was in danger of going wrong again.

“Goodness, I don’t want to work on the shop floor John!” she said with a little laugh. “No, I’m cross with you because you would not do me the courtesy of listening to me. If you listened to my reasoning and still rejected my idea then I can accept that. But not listening to me at all feels unacceptable. That you don’t value me or my opinion. I thought you saw me as your partner… in all things?”

“Oh, you are my love,” he said, getting up, nodding. Sitting in his chair he pulled her to sit on his lap. “You are right. I should have listened to you. It is a poor excuse but I have been so tired. I should have made the time for you. Let me hear your idea and then perhaps you will forgive me,” he said with one of his little-boy uncertain smiles.

With this, Margaret held his face in her hands and used her womanly wiles to kiss him so passionately he was panting with desire. With his arms wrapped tightly around her she looked him straight in the eye.

“My darling,” she began, earning a little squeeze from John, “I am lonely when you are gone all day and all evening. I can see how hard you work and no wife can be prouder than I. But, I thought that if I could help with some administration work, this would free up your time so that you could finish work at a reasonable hour. So,” she took a deep breath, “I would like to prepare the wages. I believe I have sound basic skills in arithmetic and I think, after instruction of course, I would be able to complete the ledger and label all of the little packets and put the wages in.”

John looked at her thoughtfully; the cogs visibly turning. Margaret went on, “I know it takes you all of Thursday afternoon and evening. So, if I were to do it, and free up your day, you might get other work done and actually finish on time on Thursday and Friday. Just think, two evenings a week!” She let it sink in.

“Margaret dearest, may I have some time to think about it?” he mused.

“Of course darling,” she smiled, brushing her fingers through his hair and making it stand up in shiny black peaks.

“And, tell me my love, what do you have planned for these evenin’s when I am home early,” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Margaret pulled the bow on his cravat and started unbuttoning his shirt, “I’ll think of something,” she said.

The next morning John awoke with the benefit of the weekday klaxon. Margaret was still sleeping, but back in her rightful place, naked and entangled with him. He washed, shaved and dressed and, whistling a little tune to himself, entered the dining room. He picked up a piece of toast and kissed his mother on the cheek on his way out to work.

Hannah considered the change in his demeanour. So, it’s over. Paradise is regained. Who won? Does it matter as long as he’s happy? I dare say he’ll be back to bounding after her like a blessed puppy again now. She shook her head and tutted, smiling.

At 10am a note was delivered to the house for Mrs John Thornton to attend Mr John Thornton’s office at 11am. Margaret re-read the note. How curious. At the given time Margaret walked across the yard and up the steps to John’s office and knocked.

“Come,” shouted John from within. Margaret approached the desk and sat in the chair opposite as instructed. How very formal?

“Well Mrs Thornton,” he began, “I have had time to consider your business proposition and I wanted to clarify a few points. I can see the merits of your scheme and, should you answer my questions to my satisfaction, I am willin’ to offer you a trial period,” with no initial objection from Margaret, John continued, “Firstly, there would be talk. I can’t see other mill masters wives workin’. I’ll get a reputation for being a tyrant to my wife.”

“Fortunately for us, Mr Thornton, we both know you don’t give two hoots about the opinion of your fellow mill masters, and your workers know what kind of man you are,” Margaret replied calmly.

“Hmm. Secondly, if you do this administration work, Mrs Thornton, were you plannin’ on workin’ here or in my office at home?”

Margaret had already considered this, “I must be honest, I would prefer to work here as then I would be able to spend even more time in your company. Of course, should I be blessed in the future to be in the family way, then I may use your office at home,” she smiled.

John’s eyebrows shot up, “Don’t think you will be workin’ when you are expectin’,” he said hotly.

“Oh, Mr Thornton,” Margaret said, smiling and shaking her head. She stood and walked slowly around the desk and sat on his knee looping her arms around his neck, “I think that may be a disagreement for another day. Let’s just get this settled first,” and she kissed him lingeringly on the lips.

“Hmm, and what wage would you be considerin’ acceptable, Mrs Thornton?” he said, wriggling in his seat, his clothing becoming uncomfortably tight.

Margaret smiled serenely, “I expect no wage Mr Thornton. I don’t believe you pay your mother a wage to oversee the workers and, as a member of the family, I see no need for remuneration either….however, if you felt…. compelled…. then I would be willing to accept payment in kind.”

“Payment in kind?,” he said breathlessly. Desire taking over John’s ability to speak. “What? How?”

Margaret patted the desk, “This looks rather sturdy,” and wiggled her eyebrows at him.

Please let me know if you would like tagging into my fanfics x

[foxmulderz]

YOUR MOTHER WOULDN’T APPROVE OF HOW MY MOTHER RAISED ME BUT I DO!!!!!!!! I FINALLY DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[divinescomedies]

your mother wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me but i do i *finally* do

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

someone more talented than me needs to make an edit of Jinx and Isha to Your Best American Girl by mitski specifically the part that goes ‘your mother wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me but I do I finally do’

and it starts with Vi and Vandor and then Jinx and Silco and then Jinx with Isha please someone understand my vision