#I would have had this up 100% on time and even early but I had Internet Problems on Friday afternoon and then Shabbat interfered

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi! I love the pizzeria so much <333 I was wondering if I could get a thin crust pizza (sainz!reader) with red sauce, shallots, gorgonzola, egg, and ricotta. For a drink i’d like diet pepsi and redbull. I would like dessert & to be served by Lando <3 thank you!!!

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

Lando x Sainz!reader

AN: IM BACKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!! Get ready bitches! Better buckle up and get ready to join the new and improved Whore house! While I cannot promise a 100% perfect schedule I do intend to do my best to follow the schedule! I hope everyone had an amazing holiday season and is finally able to relax a bit!

TW: unprotected sex, PinV, oral (f receiving), quickie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

WC: 1.6K

thin crust brothers best friend red sauce rough sex shallots "I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you" gorgonzola "Are you always this fucking loud?" egg "Why so needy?" ricotta "I love your voice but it's always my favorite when you're moaning my name" diet pepsi biting red bull hickeys dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Y/N POV

"Lando come on," I whisper while pulling his arm towards the back of the vacation home we would be staying in for the New Years.

This year my entire family has decided to join Lando and I's friends on our annual trip to Dubai for New Years and they have successfully managed to give Lando and I absolutely no alone time.

It's New Years Eve early in the morning and I woke up to find out my family has decided to go play a round of gold while the girls went to the shops.

"Why so needy?" Lando asks with a small smirk making me whine and continue pulling him towards our room.

"Lando I haven't gotten you alone other than to sleep since we got here and before that we were in England with your family, I need you!" I say while pulling him into our room and pushing him onto the bed.

"Please baby," I whine climbing into his lap and pulling his mouth to mine. When I feel Lando's arms wrap around my waist and rest his hands on my hips giving me a rough squeeze I start grinding down into Lando's crotch making both of us gasp and moan out from the stimulation neither of us had gotten in far too long.

"Fuck," Lando groans out when I start trailing my kisses from his mouth down to his neck where I allow my teeth to sink into the side of his neck making him roll his eyes back from the pleasure.

I leave a small hickey behind before I sit back up slightly and pull Lando's shirt off of his body.

"Fuck, you're so hot," I groan when I finally see the tanned chest I've been missing.

"We gotta be quick," Lando groans pulling me back in for a kiss while he makes quick work of taking off my shirt which is actually just one of Lando's Quadrant hoodies.

Once my bare chest is revealed to Lando he quickly attaches his mouth to one of my stiffened nipples giving it a little suck before sinking his teeth down making me throw my head back with a moan.

"Oh fuck," I moan when I feel Lando soothing out the slight sting by running his tongue along the freshly bitten skin.

While Lando is using his mouth to tease my nipples I reach my hands between our bodies and work to unbutton the buttons of his jeans and unzipping them just enough to sneak my hand inside and pull out his already throbbing member.

"Fuck baby," Lando gasps pulling his mouth away from my tits only to to go and burry his face into my neck finding my sweet spot with no problems before bitting down and leaving his teeth marks behind.

"Lando!" I chastize even though I had just done the same to him.

"What can I say, I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you." Lando says with a smirk making me jokingly roll my eyes before pulling him by the neck back in for another kiss.

Lando softly pushes me off his lap and tells me to finish getting undressed making me rush to finish pulling off my sweats and soaked through thong while Lando did the same with his jeans and boxers.

Once Lando and I were naked he pulls me into him by my hips before planting his mouth back onto mine. I moan softly into the kiss while Lando lifts me into his arms letting me wrap my legs aground his waist where he walks up back to the bed and ,says me down, Once my back softly hits the mattress Lando brings his mouth back down to mine where he starts trailing kisses from my mouth down to my neck where I can feel him leaving a few light hickeys behind before he finally brings his mouth close to where I've been waiting all week to feel him.

"Please Lan. I need you so bad," I whine out making Lando smirk softly at my begging.

"Quite the desperate little thing aren't ya," Lando says with a smirk only making a small while in protests and trying to pull him closer by the grip I have on his curls but to no aveil I have to wait until Lando brings his mouth to where I need him and when he finally licks a long soft strip from my dripping hole to my throbbing clit the sound I let out can only be explained as animalistic.

"Yes," I cry out when I feel Lando start lapping at my clit with more intent.

"Fuck, you taste so good," Lando groans into my clit making me moan loudly at the new vibrations being sent straight to my clit.

"Lando, I'm gonna cum," I cry out when I feel him plunge two thick fingers deep into my pussy.

"Go on, cum for me pretty girl," Lando says fucking his fingers into me harder while stille using his tongue to tease my clit.

I can't help the loud moan that leaves my mouth when I start to cum all over Lando's fingers and mouth.

"Oh fuck, fuck Lan, so good," I breath while squirming my hips away from his relentless mouth, feeling the overstimulation start to take over just a bit.

"Lan, too much," I cry out trying to push his away softly but it only makes Lando chuckle a little before holding my hips down harder allowing himself to continue to feast on my pussy without fear of me being able to squirm away.

When Lando has finally got his fix he slowly pulls away from my overly sensitive pussy before bringing his slick covered mouth to mine and planting a wet kiss.

I let out a softly moan when I taste myself on Lando's lips which only makes him giggle softly.

"I thought you said we have to be quick," I tease even though I was not complaining in any capacity,

"I couldn't help it. I haven't gotten a waste is a week," Lando whispers whichs make me smirk softly.

"Why so needy," I teasingly mock the words Lando used on my earlier. Lando just cocks and eyebrow before pinching my hip as a teasing warning.

Lando grabs his hard cock in his hand and runs it through my folds before pushing deep into my pussy making me cry out at the feeling of being filled up.

"Oh fuck Lando," I cry out when I feel Lando start rocking his hips into mine bringing in just enough stimulation for me to feel him filling me up but not enough to bring me close to an orgasm.

"I love your voice but it's always my favorite when you're moaning my name," Lando mumbles against my lips before he starts thrusting his hips in and out of my pussy making me cry out even louder at the stimulation.

Once Lando can tell my pussy has adjusted to his size he starts thrusting his hips harder and faster making me scream out.

"Fuck, so fucking tight," Lando grunts keeping the same rough pace.

"Fuck," I cry out when I can feel another orgasm starting to build deep within my stomach.

"Are you always this fucking loud?" Lando teases only fucking into me harder knowing how close I am to falling over the edge.

"Lando!" I moan out loudly only making Lando smirk given me proving him right.

"I'm gonna cum," I cry out making Lando snake a hand between our bodies and start playing with my clit throwing me over the edge with a cry.

"Fuck, feels so good," Lando grunts letting his hips shutter a bit before burying deep and filling my cunt with his cum.

"Fuck," Lando groans while riding his own pleasure out before slowly slipping out of my pussy and climbing out of bed after placing a quick kiss on my cheek.

When Lando returns only a minute later he now has a pair of clean boxers on and a warm rag he starts softly wiping me down before discarding it somewhere on the other side of the room. He quickly picks me up and brings me into the bathroom before sitting me on the toilet and letting me do my business while he left me alone.

When he returned I was standing in front of the mirror naked brushing my teeth and finally allowing myself to get ready for the rest of the day.

"I love your family, but fucking hell, that was far too long," Lando says while wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling my back into his chest.

"I agree," I say with a soft smile while I watched Lando through the mirror unwrap his arms and grab the clothes he had grabbed while he left me do my business.

Lando helps me dress in the outfit he picked out which consisted of a pair of HIS favorite jeans on me and a simple cropped baby tee.

We both notice the matching marks on both of our necks but neither of us choose to do something to cover them knowing sooner or later someone was bound to see them, might as well speed it up.

We barely make it into the hallway when my brother rounds the corner.

"Ew... and cover that before papa sees that and kills the boy," Carlos said while shaking his head but still placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. Something he's done since I was born.

"Love you too, loser." I laugh while shaking my head and walking into the common area where I find my mom chastising my dad for not wearing sunscreen. 

[daemonbrain]

Little Viper

Prologue | Chapter 1

(Daemon Targaryen x Dornish!Reader)

Summary: The sun could not reach you here, not in this city of rain and stink. (Un)fortunately, you found yourself at the mercy of a dragon's fire.

You've missed the heat, you supposed.

6k, CW: arranged marriage, canon divergent, canon-typical violence, canon-typical misogyny, reader is homesick, smut, will update as I post.

a/n: This was def a bitch to write lol, I really need to get back into it. I haven't decided whether i'm going to turn this into a proper multi-part series or not so I encourage you to leave comments if this is something you'd be interested in :)

To My Lord-Father,

It has been well over a week's time since you’ve sent me- your dearest child- away. A few days time since I last felt the weight of the sun's warmth upon my skin. The overcast weather befitting of my current disposition and this city, nay, kingdom’s shortcomings compared to our beloved Dorne.

I arrived a few hours ago, though I swiftly left the company of King Jaehaerys and the rest of his court's brazen stares upon arrival… you’d think they had never seen a Dornishmen before. However, the reason being for my early retreat was not the scrutiny, rather that I don’t feel particularly well. You know I've never enjoyed sea travel, for it makes me sickly. Or this may just be my body’s desperate act of resistance against this poorly-conceived match you’ve sold me to. Be that as it may, it does not do to dwell as you would say.

I am willing to do this wretched duty as Princess of Dorne, to bring upon us a lasting peace. At the very least for Qoren’s sake, I suppose. 

Though I am cross with you, I cannot say it isn’t regrettable to hear that your ailment has rendered you unable to make the journey to King’s Landing… your absence will be strongly felt, father. Just as it has been.

On a less glum note, I feel my dreadful spirits being lifted. It’s as if I can sense my brother's approach to the Blackwater Bay where I will eagerly await him on the morrow, perfectly on time for the ceremony.

I miss you and shall count the days until I am able to return home? Sunspear home to see you. Do not strain yourself while Qoren and I are away.

Best Regards, Your Daughter.

100 A.C

Had you been in your previous state of fury and pettiness, you might have crossed out “daughter” in favor of  “forsaken issue”. Mayhaps if you had the energy at present, you would have.

While on the sea, you had been given much time before your grand entrance to reconcile yourself with your forlorn state of affairs. The reconciliation being overindulgence of barrels worth of Dornish Red on board. The “wedding” gift Qoren so thoughtlessly japed. 

Your pitiful drunken outbursts in the privacy of your quarters, lest you cause any rumors before even arriving at the port. You would curse the day you were born, the day your father was born, the day his father before him. 

Prince Daemon and his drunkard bride, a blessed match.

However, after the unremitting bouts of nausea ultimately won over your desire to numb your senses. Leagues away from the Dornish border and fast approaching your fate, your anger could not sustain you so wholly in the middle of the Narrow Sea.

Taking a moment from your trivial displeasure, you hunched over, placing your forehead to the wooden desk in your guest chambers with a thud. Holding yourself tightly as if that would dull the unpleasant rumble in your belly, rocking your body as the ship had mere hours ago.

A warm welcome to this shitpile of a city. You chuckled to yourself, to the empty room. You could only assume the things Qoren would say about this horrid place. How dull the walls were, the lack of open air. No bright colours and suns embellishing every piece of fabric. 

He would make a wisecrack remark, “Oh how drab the Targaryen splendor is!” 

Though he would say it in a far more humorous way. His asinine character a natural talent to a prick such as himself you believed.

Pushing yourself up with your ink covered hands, you groaned and ambled over to the opened window where the steady whistle of the wind entered. The moon was shrouded in the looming storm clouds, doing little to nothing in regards of illuminating the Red Keep’s disappointingly plain architecture (you may be biased) and the city below. If you gave too much focus, you might begin to smell the… aromas King’s Landing had to offer from all the way up here. None pleasant.

Your belly ached and gurgled as you thought back to the putrid smell that overwhelmed you as you were transported from the Blackwater Bay to the Red Keep.

Before you could dwell any longer, you sighed and shut the window tightly, nothing deemed interesting enough to watch anyways. Instead, your newfound anxieties find their way back to entertain you, the only thing keeping your company as of late.

You had a duty to keep, reminding yourself like a mantra.

Marriage alliances have been custom through the centuries in Westeros. Your own flesh born of political maneuvering and courtly expectations. Why was it now as you stood before your responsibility, your chest tightened at the very thought? At the briefest mention?

You did not like this, but it was your burden to bear. You had no wish to feel this way.

You could only conjure a faint image of the moment your brother unwillingly delivered your fathers verdict on your future. It had been a beautiful day, the gardens' serene quality creating a profusely deceptive sense of security.

Mayhaps it was the way your head was sent spinning immediately after the words left Qoren’s mouth? The rush of anger which possessed you? The way it caused you to barge into the council room, any trace of warmth or softness you commonly afforded to your father absent. 

Nonetheless, it was all a blur of shouting, salty tears, pleas and comforts falling deaf to your ears. Whatever it was no longer clear to you.

Sighing, you begin to slip out of the dress you had travelled with, the hem of the sleeves stained from your letter writing. 

You briefly considered stripping down to your undergarments and sleeping as such. Though, upon further deliberation you thought it best to wear a simple nightgown in accordance with the cold draft of the castle. 

Slipping under the fur lined covers you couldn’t help the feeling that crept into the cavity of your chest. It burned within you, leaving a rancid taste in your mouth. This was it. Come this time tomorrow, you would not even belong to the house of your kin. 

Wrapping the covers more firmly around your quaking form, it’s indiscernible whether the chill or your fear was the source.

“Daemon” You dared to whisper, willing yourself to speak the Targaryen Prince’s miserable name into the empty bedchamber. You did not like how it sounded on your tongue.

Do you feel this dread as I do?

“Does my Prince find himself in need of comfort?” The whore spoke out, reaching to graze the silver-haired Prince’s hand which held his third- fourth cup of wine.

Dornish Red Daemon had complained. He always favored Arbor Gold.  

He had been in this place since the previous night, an angered promenade with a few of the guards he trained with on occasion. They laughed, feasted, fucked through the streets of King’s Landing without shame nor respect for the Prince’s wedding ceremony taking place on this very day. 

Daemon did not deem it worthy of his attention. Let the King’s guard or whatever the fuck else other soldier his grandsire and father will send drag him from this place. He would stay put in the meantime, enjoying his time sunken in his whore and cup much more than he would with the Dornish wench they’ve bound him to.

Daemon smirked as his gaze ran down to the woman’s breasts shamelessly, watching the way her nipples hardened under the flimsy gown she wore. The cold winds from the opened window biting at her form in a delectable way.

 When his eyes arrived back to her face his own violet eyes were met by her blue ones. Her unmistakable silver hair shining in the candlelight. This was what he was deserving of.

His previous visits to this particular establishment were met with loyalty by the owner. She spoke of a girl to his tastes. He was pleasantly surprised with the dragonseed waiting for him in the deeper parts of the building.

The sound of moans echoing from within the brothel, the lecherous men seeking reprieve from their lives by giving up their coin to service the women who milled about.

All the distractions which blared loudly in his ears could not distract his active mind as he drunkenly and loudly complained of his circumstances.

How could they expect him to sit idly by as they took his future into their hands. To marry him to a hot-blooded Dornishmen. The blood of the dragon does not dwell with sand people he had told his brother Viserys.

Slamming his now empty goblet to a random table, he allows the silver-haired woman to lead him to an empty couch amongst other patrons and working girls alike.

She pushes him to the couch and flicks her hair to the side. He leers at the beauty born of his house’s ardor. Her sharp features, tresses which reached her waist. Grabbing on to her with a firm hand, he pulled her down to his lap as a familiar need spread through his body. Deserving.

Daemon was not one to hold back his desires, and why should he? A dragon's blood is made of fire, and nothing burns hotter than a dragon's lust.

As she lightly grinded her hips against him, a familiar rising began

This is what he is deserving of. He had no need to see his intended, for he already knew what the Dornish were. Most certaining nothing he was interested in binding himself to.

“My Prince is most eager,” she breathily stated, her breath clipped as Daemon wasted no time fastening his mouth to hers, roughly coaxing his tongue into her mouth. “Your Prince needs a good fuck.” His tone husky, words slurring slightly. His lips breaking apart from hers, hands exploring her dress-clad form. A thin bit of fabric which he could make quick work of.

“Spend your night with me and it may be your best fuck yet, my prince…” Gods had he not been so displeased by his circumstances he would have taken to banter with this seductress. Would have let her worship him, and he would worship her in turn. However, the sound of the stitches on her flimsy gown ripping from his grip on her waist was a tell-tale sign this was no such night for that sort of intimacy. This was a night for animalistic intentions.

His hand greedily roamed the expanse of her soft skin, marks from previous patrons visible- he did not care. Her perfume almost nauseatingly strong. It did not matter.

The two were lip locked. Groans and heavy breaths as they practically merged into one another. The fervor of which Prince Daemon kissed at her skin, beautiful and unsightly.

If the Targaryen’s were believed to be closer to the gods then men, why was it that they crumbled all too similar to even those of the lowest birth who frequented these houses of ill-repute. For any who caught a glimpse of the young Prince and his company of the night, that very notion could be challenged as he desperately clutched on to any purchase of skin he could find, the need for anything pleasurable in this wretched day. Seeking solace in the arms of a beautiful woman with an underlying need to reclaim the power he deemed stolen from him.

Pulling back from the kiss, the woman latched her skillful lips to his pale skin. With a sharp inhale, Daemons went muscles taut at the way she nipped and licked at his skin. 

“That’s it..”

A short groan escaped him as his hand went to cradle the back of her head, taking a handful of her hair. As he pushed her closer to his skin he could have sworn this woman was a witch.

When she began to palm him through his breeches he was sure. At the tender touch, his cock chubbed up. In the daze his eyes slowly peered at the sight before him, but before he could admire the feast laid before him another irritating sight caught his attention.

Another girl, distinctly sun-kissed skin that was certainly not from the gloomy skies of the Crownlands during the winter, and dark locks of hair forming waves down her back as she vigorously worked her mouth on another patron.

Before he is able to grit his teeth in annoyance, the silver-haired woman's dexterous hands continue to gently touch him through the fabric of his breeches, he momentarily has to toss his head back to let go of a deep breath, his drunken state causing a small whine to escape.

After a hearing a small giggle, he focuses back on his own pleasure and groping of the much more interesting beauty-

His eyes quickly peered back over to the other whore.

Damned Dornish. Worming their way into all facets of his life now? The thought made him want to scoff.

Dishonourable Dornish. Known throughout Westeros for their cowardly fight tactics, uses of poison.

More crudely also known for their lust, their thirst.

Daemon could not help that his wine-addled mind brought him back to his fucking betrothed. He wondered if the rumors held true. Daemon had fucked wenches prettier than a fair few of the noblewomen in court. He had no issue avoiding the bedding entirely if she happened to be one of the more plain featured.

Though, his fathers fury would know no bounds were he to not consummate the union, the key piece to such an "important" alliance... were it up to Daemon to provide council (which it very much wasn't) they would come to the walls of Sunspear atop Vhagar and Caraxes to subdue this folly entirely.

Would the Princess descend to her knees like the woman in his view? Gaze up at him in pleading to fulfill her bottomless appetite. His cock, his fingers, his tongue. After all how could such an insatiable creature react well to her own husband refusing to fuck her.

Gods he hoped she wasn't ugly.

If she was lucky enough, perceptive enough to beg, the Prince would jeeringly stroke her hair and whisper his taunts before pulling her on to him.

Were you the sort of woman able to take a man to his base? Or would you ask him to slow his pace?

Continuing to watch the Dornish woman, he allowed a groan to slip past his lips at both the ministrations of his paid companion and the sight before him.

The whore deftly performed. Perhaps you would try to please him with such fervor. Leave eager licks at his sack of stones as you indulged in such carnal desires. Delightedly hum as you suckled at his tip.

“You distract yourself, mighty dragon” His companion interrupted while grabbing his face on either side. Had his body not already been ready to boil over, it certainly was now at her words. A mighty dragon he was.

Shaking his head, he centers his thoughts back on to the woman whose legs were dangled across his thighs. Unbearably hard, he ached to see her bare. And with that desire came the end of her cheap gown. He ripped the fabric down the middle, her chest now on full display for him to enjoy.

Unfortunately for his poor intoxicated attention span, the loud sound of squelching hit his ears and he could not resist the temptation to look back.

He watched as the man hungrily began to leverage his position over the other woman, choosing to forgo her teasing in favor of fucking her mouth.

Daemon wouldn't do that- not like that. His mind wandered off again. A place where a Dornish Princess sat between his legs determined to inch-by-inch feed his cock into her hole. No, he would let her tease. He would let her and then when he no longer wished to, she wouldn't need to try so hard anymore. For he would begin to snap his hips forward to make up for what she couldn’t. Breaking that infamous Dornish resistance by forcing her poor throat to adapt to the too-large intrusion. 

He would relish in wounding the Martell pride after all, justifiable revenge for his own. The only thing he may be granted in this ridiculous union.

He would be gentle and rough all the same, mocking through it all.

The whore clearly knew what she was doing, patiently and prettily sitting there while suctioning her cheeks, bobbing along with the rhythm. He would have let her work a little longer before devolving so fast as the man had. To each their own.

He didn’t know if it was the view or the feeling of his pants being unlaced which had him beginning to sweat.

Would his bride sit as pleasantly he wondered or would fat tears slip down her cheeks at the bombardment? Too overwhelming for the likes of a noblewoman. Or perhaps she would prove to be the opposite and enjoy such treatment, utterly unbefitting to her station.

Would her own cunt glisten as the whore's does in pleasure, calling to him as if it was of the utmost fascination? Would her spittle drip down from her face to her thighs? Would they be rubbing together in need as he buried himself deeper. Her body ready to entrap him should he lose his wits to a viper of all things. A little thing trying to fool a dragon.

In a matter of seconds, the man's tempo slowed significantly as his legs began to weakly quake. Taking this opportunity, she sped up, and as if sensing this she pulled off. Jerking his manhood over her face while looking at him with a sultry stare, he turned away bashfully, his peak quick.

Daemon would have pulled the Princess the whore close, nuzzling her nose to the very base of him where his silver hairs grow. Shaft as far as it could be. He would watch as her eyes grew hazy from the closeness, from the seed which slithered down her throat.

If you are pretty enough, he would find no shame in returning the favour. A lusty Princess, certainly a rarity left unseen by him (lest he recounts the stories of his denounced aunt Saera Targaryen).

If the rumors of the Dornish are anything to go by, a pretty girl with loose legs was the best he could expect out of these circumstances. At worst, another person which he would dutifully ignore and loath as best he could.

Without taking notice, the woman on his lap gestured the Dornish whore over, slipping her hands away from Daemon’s.

Before the husband-to-be could object to the separation, the two women dragged him bare and ready to a more private chamber in the back grabbing a pitcher of wine on the way.

Dornish Red.

You had been quick to rouse from your rest, your body protesting the sounds of the morn outside of your door. A clear indication it was time for you to rise. You struggled, it was not as if sleep came easily to you the night before, nor effectively when it befell you for that matter.

But as the sharp knock of your maid came to the locked wooden door of your chambers there was no escape. Your paranoia comes back to bite you as you were forced to trudge over, utterly unready to face the homely, friendly woman you had taken with you from Dorne.

After opening the door and curt pleasantries are exchanged, your hair is made to a neat style and you are helped into a fine dress suiting the chilly weather.

Had you been at home you would have opted for expensive lace and airy fabrics. You’d be bejewelled and by the prudish standards of King’s Landing, “scantily” dressed. Though, you’d bid the Lord’s and Lady’s of this court to attempt a summer in Sunspear wearing their usual constricting and heavy fabrics.

Running your hands over the tightly corseted waist, the maid speaks up while collecting loose items marring the tidy space.

“The discomfort is a small price to pay. Should you be beholden to Prince Daemon this morning, he will think you stunning in such a piece.” 

Raising a brow to her comment on the Prince’s… likes, you speak semi-irate. “Does the Prince enjoy his women light-headed and immobile then?” 

You knew little of Daemon beyond the rumors which circulated about him, let alone enough to presume his tastes.

A second-born child just as you were, he was a knight described as tall and hardened where his brother Viserys was more plump. 

You oft fantasized of what it would be to truly be with a fighter. Now faced with the possibility of being bound to a glory-hungry Targaryen, you could not find in yourself the same excitement you felt when studying the soldiers of Dorne. In fact, it would not be a stretch to say there was faint distress.

You studied the woman's reflection in the mirror and she looked at you once and then twice over. 

“Ah!” The maid scampers over to where your jewelry is laid and brings a gold albeit simple necklace. Strapping it around your neck she claps her hands together softly.

Deeming her work satisfactory, she meets your eye once more with a commiserating stare.

“If that will be all Princess?”

“That will be all.” 

She bowed and left without another word. Your unpleasant behavior was something anyone employed by your father to serve you in King’s Landing had begun to become accustomed to. Their good Princess grows bitter in the absence of the sun. 

With a sigh, you turn when you hear a knock at the door. It is then you see your ever stoic knight Ser Edmyn.

With tan skin and hair that was but a wisp, he was an experienced fellow. Even with old age the knight was able to keep up with any man half his years. An imposing size and frightening demeanor alone enough to ward any undesirables away. One of the best in Dorne deemed the best protection for his Princess.

“Good morning Ser Edmyn.” You smiled small while approaching him at the door, (un)ready to leave the safety and solitude of your bedchambers.

“Good morning, Princess.” He smiled small back. A pleasantry which was reserved for you.

As the both of you fall into step you continue to speak while observing the bustle of the corridors, decorations coming to and from even in this wing of the castle. “It is busy today. I suppose all this chaos is to be expected...”

“There is to be a royal wedding after all. Though I deduce you would not like to be reminded.”

With a chuckle you shake your head “No, ser, I do not. However, I would like to pick your brain for what you know of my brother's arrival. I would like to be there as soon as his boat is, I am most excited to see him again.”

“It is to my knowledge that your brother will not arrive until noon.”

With an aimless hum you keep your eyes trained ahead, lest you embarrass yourself with the anxious expression on your face. A few more unbearable hours until they are made just a slight bit better. Mayhaps Qoren will be able to bring a spot of light to this dreary city.

After a few minutes of allowing Ser Edmyn to lead you, you recognize the faint smell of food. Gods it has been a time since you last ate. On cue, you begin to salivate over the thought of a freshly cooked meal.

An unfamiliar voice interferes with your fantasies, coming to a stop in front of you with a polite smile. “Princess,” The servant bowed respectfully, clearly in a hurry. “her royal highness Princess Aemma requests you join her to break fast.”

Looking at Edmyn with annoyance displayed, he only responds with an inappreciable shrug. Mayhaps the woman would further rub your nose in all of this bother. This family has ruined your happiness, they may as well ruin your meal.

Offering the servant a reluctant nod, he stiffly leads you and your protector to a dining room. 

Bowing, the servant leaves after delivering you in front of your destination and Ser Edmyn takes his place on the wall outside of the opened door. Pushing all the thoughts from your head you assume a neutral expression as you walked into the room.

Without so much as looking at Aemma’s face, you nod your head with respect due to someone of her status. “Princess Aemma.”

It was when you heard a soft babble, your mind went soft. You tilt your head back up to see Aemma giving you a bright smile and you spot a girl no more than three in her arms. 

“Or… Princess’s, apologies.” 

“Princess,” your name slipping from her lips as she wrangled her wriggling daughter. “No need for such apologies. I hope I did not interrupt your busy morning!” She spoke with jollity, as if this was a day which deserved such joys.

“Not at all. I’ve yet to eat anything. Nothing to tend to until my brother Qoren’s arrival.” You mustered a friendly looking smile, trying (and failing) to reciprocate the amiable spirit of the Arryn. 

“Come. sit, sit!” grabbing hold of her daughter's wrist, she gently waved it in your direction, “Say hello Rhaenyra.” she told her daughter, the two letting out a little giggle at the contact. 

“Helloooo” The girl playfully obliged.

As you sat down, you could not fail to take note of the way her silver hair and violet eyes stood out amongst all of it. A true little Targaryen.

You presumed they all started this lovely. One could almost forget they grew to be wicked dragonlords.

Unknowing of your distasteful thoughts, Aemma continued putting the young Princess in her chair as the help served her up a plate.

“I figured it would be pleasant for the both of us to meet in a more intimate setting. You left so briskly the past night, I could not introduce myself. I do hope you were able to remedy the travel sickness you mentioned?” She turned her head upwards to you.

“Yes… pleasant.” You continued, “sleep always proves to be the best cure to my ill-state.” 

Bang! 

You jumped at the sound. How pleasant to dine to the sounds of the young Princess whacking silverware to the wood.

“Feed mummy! Food!” she whined.

Without casting a glance to Rhaenyra, Aemma places a light hand to her little fists to placate the girl. “Patience Rhaenyra… Apologies, my girl is quite insistent.” As the beginnings of cries begin to persist, Aemma turns to Rhaenyra with a soft smile.

Motherly.

“What do we say Rhaenyra?”

“No Mummy! Feed!”

Aemma giggles a bit before continuing. “Kostilus. Say it my girl, say what your father taught you. Kos-til-us.”

With a final resistant pout, red-faced and desperate to be fed, the girl parrots her mother. “Kostiles!” Rather she tries to.

At her daughter yielding and speaking this mystery word, Aemma begins to spoon feed her, attention returning back to you.

“It means please in High Valyrian. Viserys, Prince Baelon… Daemon, they are all fluent. ‘Tis quite important that a Targaryen is fluent in the mother tongue.”

You hum in agreement as you take a sip of your drink. The ancestral tongue of cruel war instigators. Fitting.

“I must say how wonderful it is that Prince Qoren will come! I’m sure you are very happy to see him on such a special occasion.”

You thank the server who set out a plate with something of palatable substance compared to the meals you were served on the sea. 

Taking a few bites of the food, you will yourself slow down, responding after you’ve swallowed. “Yes, such a… special day.” You gulped and barely held back your grimace.

In need of a different topic, you continue. “But to say I am very happy would be phrasing it far too mildly. I am quite fond of my brother. We are inseparable and it has been strange to be without him for so long.”

“It must be hard to be away from him, especially… in a place so different.” You see a flicker of sympathy in her gaze as she turns to gently wipe at Rhaenyra’s mouth with a cloth.

You watch as she mothers her daughter with the same soft gaze. You did not need someone years your younger looking at you as if you were a lost lamb, it only caused your annoyance to be inflamed.

“Yes, well, as is my duty.” You responded in a way which sounded more clipped than you intended.

In spite of sensing your blunt tone, Aemma continues cooly. “I myself am not close to my half-siblings. They are all quite a bit older than me. I was never lucky enough to have a relationship like the one you describe.” She smiled wistfully. “I do hope in the near future Rhaenyra will be able to have such a bond.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes flickered down to your empty finger. The tan line a reminder of your gold signet ring. Yet another thing you reluctantly miss.

Your annoyance softens at Aemma’s kind words and the reminder of your “lucky bond” with your brother as you decide to initiate a question. “Did you like Vale? I have never visited.” You asked, unsure of how to proceed.

“Oh yes! It would snow in the winter, sometimes so hard one could mistake for Winterfell! And in the spring the prettiest flowers would bloom! Little blue ones all around. It all becomes a little blurry as time passes on-”

You felt your heart skip once as she carried on. Would it be you one day dining with someone, talking of Dorne as a memory?

“But of course I've been in King’s Landing since I was a girl of eleven. I’ve built a fondness for this home as well.”

That caused you to pause. 

What a horrible thing to be ripped from your home at such a young age. 

Taking another bite of your food, you watch as she continues to prattle on about how “pleasant” King’s Landing could be if you looked closely. Gulping down your food, it is your turn to look at her with sympathy.

As you both goalessely chat with occasional interruptions from Rhaenyra, the topic of your intended is breached even with your skillful avoidance.

“He is not as bad as people say, you know. Just… passionate. He is kind to Rhaenyra and I. He loves his brother very much. Perhaps he could make…” Aemma’s voice wanes off as she thinks on her next words. 

A part of her wanted to reassure you by saying “a fine match.”  However, she did not wish to sour this new amity by feeding you lies. You were going to be her sister and you did not seem like the type to take kindly to blatantly dishonest consolation. It was not right.

Not when she had heard the cruel way Daemon had spoken about you to Viserys only nights ago. 

“A tolerable match.”

You were a nice girl… angry perhaps. She found herself hoping vainly Daemon would not ruin you. 

“How reassuring Princess.” you chuckled, allowing yourself to go lax a bit.

And how this delighted Aemma. “Having said that, I do not think you will have to… concern yourself with him before the ceremony.” she grinned quietly.

“That disappoints me so.”

Amidst the comfortable silence which ensued, you’re interrupted by Ser Edmyn.

“Princess, I’m sorry for the intrusion. Your brother's ship approaches the Bay. I thought it important to inform you, we will need to leave soon if you wish to welcome him.”

Aemma could see your harsh air lighten evidently. The announcement of your true brother's arrival bewitching you with a smile of what looked to be perfect glee.

You shot up from your seat immediately, pivoting towards the Princesses. “I do hope you forgive my abrupt departure, but I-”

“Go! It is fine. I look forward to meeting Prince Qoren!” She simpered.

Without another word, you were in the buzzing hallways of the Red keep. “Make haste Ser Edmyn!” You laughed as you picked up your skirts, bursting with joy that even the constraints of this damned corset could not stop you.

Had this been a few hours ago, spotting the orange Martell banners carried alongside Targaryen, flowers, and chairs you might have been sent into a dizzy spell. You just might the moment you arrive back at the castle. Not now though. For now, your brother was here!

After a brief carriage ride you are offered a hand by your knight as he gently leads you down. Uncaring of the light rain which splattered over your new dress, you stumbled upon the stones which littered the shore as you raced to catch a glimpse of the vessel.

Your heart threatened to burst and for the first time since you arrived, you graced King’s Landing with the brightest of smiles. A smile meant for the ship which flew the familiar sun, spear striking it through.

You had been angry and bitter, but that did not change the simple fact that you longed to be in the presence of your brother. Desperately. You wished to put all of this nasty business behind you and embrace him as family again.

As the ship grew closer, you began to register the faces of the crew. How vain he was. Hiding from a bit of rain, no doubt to avoid soiling his clothes. 

Today would be a miserable loss, but perhaps a bearable one now.

The ship docked and you were growing restless. As two familiar Lord’s, advisors to your father, disembarked you wasted no time in approaching them. 

You looked a mess. Tightly bound hair damp, your dress dragging in the wet sand but it simply was no matter to you.

As the advisors took you in, you assumed it was your disarrayed appearance which caused the apprehensive air.

“My Lords, I do hope the journey was all well!” You chirped.

They bowed in greeting, the uneasy look they exchanged going unnoticed. “Quite well, my Princess.”

“I do hope my brother is not fussing over the rain in there. ‘Tis somber all the time here, he must grow used to it. As will both of you I'm sure.”

…

“I am…” Taking a breath in, one of the men paused observing your blissfully ignorant expression. “Prince Qoren sends his sincerest regrets, but he will be absent-”

Your smile dropped as quick as it had appeared. He continued speaking and you stopped listening. Absent.

Absent.

He spoke of duty, he spoke of loyalty. And where was he on this most “auspicious” day. Was each and every reassurance a callous means of pacifying your temper? The fucking traitor. The whole lot of them. Your brother, your father, his council, your home for gods sake! By their will, cast into the fire while they reap the spoils of peace.

What of your peace? Was he so cruel as to not see you off in gratitude for your sacrifice? He was no “exalted” viper, he was a snake.

“... Princess?” One of the advisors questioned, most like realizing your inattention to his excuses on Qoren’s behalf.

Your vacant stare focuses back to the man as you furiously willed your tears to stay put. He sighs and looks at you with pity, aware of your blaring disappointment.

Pulling something from under his cloak, the Lord outstretched his hand with a brown piece of parchment, little water droplets staining the paper as the rain began to intensify. “He tasked us with delivering this to you… it seemed-”

“That is all.”

“Princess…”

Snatching the letter up, you fixed them with a hard glare, a weak manifestation of the anger which seethed within you. A letter. His consolation was even pathetic.

As the two men hurried off, you opened the letter, uncaring of the way the rain lashes at your frame now, the overcast beach full of people hurrying off of the boat.

Dear Sister,

I take no joy in writing this note, for it is with remorse that I must tell you I am unable to attend your wedding ceremony, nor visit you in King’s Landing hereafter. I know you will be angry and I am sorry. I am so very sorry and I beg of you to not lose heart, to not be frightened. I  beseech you to accept my lamentable apologies and understand this is not how I wished this day to go.

-Qoren

You cared not for the rest, only the reaffirmation of your brother's non-attendance. As the rain slid down, your tears mingled with the droplets. Crumpling the letter, you allowed it to drop down in the sand, watching it slowly turn soft from harsh rainfall.

Abandoned by your own family, the gods and men would bear witness to your entrapment. 

[trashcreatyre]

I think the main thing that pisses me off about like 90% of mephiles ships is that people will be like "how old is he??" Look that fanwiki says that he's ten and they RUN with it. Like they don't read further. I'm so convinced that most people don't even know the plot of 06 bc the shit I've seen people draw and write with the characters is just mind boggling.

[livvyofthelake]

girl who wanted to watch sooo many movies this week because her work schedule was finally normal again but can’t even make it through bottoms tonight

[roaringroa]

they should make a life where you don't have appointments, work, school and scheduled events every single day for months on end

[icewindandboringhorror]

........creachure

[july-19th-club]

i love when characters suck and are bad people like the thing about murphy is that i liked him before he was the incredible wife guy (which is also pretty great, dont get me wrong) but like. i thought he was cool when he was a horrible jackass that everyone hated . like he was interesting before he got morals; he was interesting as a guy who gets lynched in a frontier justice display of retaliation for a murder because he just seems like the kind of dude who would murder someone. and he is! just not that dead guy, specifically. whereas the actual killer is a twelve-year-old girl who the whole crew spends the episode trying to proctect from any kind of punishment, while murph runs around trying and failing to get anyone to admit out loud that the only reason there's a difference between punishing him and punishing her is because he has a bad personality . and also the murders but at that point in the show he hadn't killed anyone, he just seemed like he would

[phagodyke]

I will say while I've loved most of elden ring I'm really glad I'm down to just 2 more main boss fights (malenia + maliketh) before I start the endgame boss fights... whew 😮‍💨

[depresseddepot]

in today's installment of "I have personal conversations with my parents once a year" I learned that I was a twin and may possibly have chimerism

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[phoenixyfriend]

Ko-fi prompt from @liberwolf:

Could you explain Tariff's , like who pays them and what they do to a country?

Well, I can definitely guess where this question is coming from.

Honestly, I was pretty excited to get this prompt, because it's one I can answer and was part of my studies focus in college. International business was my thing, and the issues of comparative advantage (along with Power Purchasing Parity) were one of the things I liked to explore.

-----------------

At their simplest, tariffs are an import tax. The United States has had tariffs as low as 5%, and at other times as high as 44% on most goods, such as during the Civil War. The purpose of a tariff is in two parts: generating revenue for the government, and protectionism.

Let's first explore how a tariff works. If you want to be confused, then you need to have never taken an economics class, and look at this graph:

(src)

So let's undo that confusion.

The simplest examples are raw or basic materials such as steel, cotton, or wine.

First, without tariffs:

Let us say that Country A and Country B both produce steel, and it is of similar quality, and in both cases cost $100 per unit. Transportation from one country to the other is $50/unit, so you can either buy domestically for $100, or internationally for $150. So you buy domestically.

Now, Country B discovers a new place to mine iron very easily, and so their cost for steel drops to $60/unit due to increased ease of access. Country A can either purchase domestically for $100, or internationally for $110 (incl. shipping), which is much more even. Still, it is more cost-effective to purchase domestically, and so Country A isn't worried.

Transportation technology is improved, dropping the shipping costs to $30/unit. A person from Country A can buy: Domestic: $100 International: $60+$30 = $90 Purchasing steel from Country B is now cheaper than purchasing it from Country A, regardless of where you live.

Citizens in Country A, in order to reduce costs for domestic construction, begin to purchase their steel from Country B. As a result, money flows from Country A to B, and the domestic steel industry in Country A begins to feel the strain as demand dwindles.

In this scenario, with no tariffs, Country A begins to rely on B for their steel, which causes a loss of jobs (steelworkers, miners), loss of infrastructure (closing of mines and factories), and an outflow of funds to another country. As a result, Country A sees itself as losing money to B, while also growing increasingly reliant on their trading partner for the crucial good that is steel. If something happens to drive up the price of B's steel again, like political upheaval or a natural disaster, it will be difficult to quickly ramp up the production of steel in Country A's domestic facilities again.

What if a tariff is introduced early?

Alternately, the dropping of complete costs for purchase of steel from Country B could be counteracted with tariffs. Let's say we do a 25% tariff on that steel. This tariff is placed on the value of the steel, not the end cost, so:

$60 + (0.25 x $60) + $30 = $105/unit

Suddenly, with the implementation of a 25% tariff on steel from Country B, the domestic market is once again competitive. People can still buy from Country B if they would like, but Country A is less worried about the potential impacts to the domestic market.

The above example is done in regards to a mature market that has not yet begun to dwindle. The infrastructure and labor is still present, and is being preemptively protected against possible loss of industry to purchasing abroad.

What happens if the tariff is not implemented until after the market has dwindled?

Let's say that the domestic market was not protected by the tariff until several decades on. Country A's domestic production, in response to increased purchasing from abroad, has dwindled to one third of what it was before the change in pricing incentivized purchase from B. Prices have, for the sake of keeping this example simple, remained at $100(A) and $60(B) in that time. However, transportation has likely become better, so transportation is down to $20, meaning that total cost for steel from B is $80, accelerating the turn from domestic steel to international.

So, what happens if you suddenly implement a tariff on international steel? Shall we say, 40%?

$60 + (0.4 x 60) + 20 = $104

It's more expensive to order from abroad! Wow! Let's purchase domestically instead, because these prices add up!

But the production is only a third of what it used to be, and domestic mines and factories for refining the iron into steel can't keep up. They're scaling, sure, but that takes time. Because demand is suddenly triple of the supply, the cost skyrockets, and so steel in Country A is now $150/unit! The price will hopefully come down eventually, as factories and mines get back in gear, but will the people setting prices let that happen?

So industries that have begun to rely on international steel, which had come to $80/unit prior to the tariff, are facing the sudden impact of a cost increase of at least $25/unit (B with tariff) or the demand-driven price increase of domestic (nearly double the pre-tariff cost of steel from B), which is an increase of at least 30% what they were paying prior to the tariff.

There are possible other aspects here, such as government subsidies to buoy the domestic steel industry until it catches back up, or possibly Country B eating some of the costs so that people still buy from them (selling for $50 instead of $60 to mitigate some of the price hike, and maintain a loyal customer base), but that's not a direct impact of the tariff.

Who pays for tariffs?

Ultimately, this is a tax on a product (as opposed to a tax on profits or capital themselves, which has other effects), which means the majority of the cost is passed on directly to the consume.

As I said, we could see the producers in Country B cut their costs a little bit to maintain a loyal customer base, but depending on their trade relationships with other countries, they are just as likely to stop trading with Country A altogether in order to focus on more profitable markets.

So why do we not put tariffs on everything?

Well... for that, we get into the question of production efficiency, or in this case, comparative advantage.

Let's say we have two small, neighboring countries, C and D, that have negligible transportation costs and similar industries. Both have extensive farmland, and both have a history of growing grapes for wine, and goats for wool. Country C is a little further north than D, so it has more rocky grasses that are good for goats, while D has more fertile plains that are good for growing grapes.

Let's say that they have an equal workforce of 500,000 of people. I'm going to say that 10,000 people working full time for a year is 1 unit of labor. So, Country C and Country D have between the 100 units of labor, and 50 each.

The cost of 1 unit of wool = the cost of 1 unit of wine

Country C, having better land for goats, can produce 4 units of wool for every unit of labor, and 2 units of wine for every unit of labor.

Meanwhile, Country D, having better land for grapes, can produce 2 units of wool per unit of labor, and 4 units of wine per unit of labor.

If they each devote exactly half their workforce to each product, then:

Country C: 100 units of wool, 50 units of wine Country D: 50 units of wool, 100 units of wine

Totaling 150 units of each product.

However, if each devotes all of their workforce to the product they're better at...

Country C: 200 units of wool, no wine Country D: no wool, 200 units of wine

and when they trade with each other, they each end up with 100 units of each product, which is a doubling of what their less-efficient labor would have resulted in!

The real world is obviously much more complicated, but in this example, we can see the pros of outsourcing some of your production to another country to focus on your own specialties.

Extreme examples of this IRL are countries where most of the economy rests on one product, such as middle-eastern petro-states that are now struggling to diversify their economies in order to not get left behind in the transition to green energy, or Taiwan's role as the world's primary producer of semiconductors being its 'silicon shield' against China.

Comparative advantage can be used well, such as our Unnamed Countries (that are definitely not the classic example of England and Portugal, with goats instead of sheep) up in the example. With each economy focusing on its specialty, there is a greater yield of both products, meaning a greater bounty for both countries.

However, should something happen to Country C up there, like an earthquake that kills half the goats, they are suddenly left with barely enough wool to clothe themselves, and nothing for Country D, which now has a surplus of wine and no wool.

So you do have to keep some domestic industry, because Bad Things Can Happen. And if we want to avoid the steel example of a collapse in the given industry, tariffs might be needed.

Are export tariffs a thing?

Yes, but they are much rarer, and can largely be defined as "oh my god, everyone please stop getting rid of this really important resource by selling it to foreigners for a big buck, we are depleting this crucial resource."

So what's the big confusion right now?

Donald Trump has, on a number of occasions, talked about 'making China pay' tariffs on the goods they import into the US. This has led to a belief that is not entirely unreasonable, that China would be the side paying the tariffs.

The view this statement engenders is that a tariff is a bit like paying a rental fee for a seller's table at an event: the producer or merchant pays the host (or landlord or what have you) a fee to sell their product on the premises. This could be a farmer's market, a renaissance faire, a comic book convention, whatever. If you want to sell at the event, you have to pay a fee to get a space to set up your table.

In the eyes of the people who listened to Trump, the tariff is that fee. China is paying the United States for access to the market.

And, technically, that's not entirely wrong. China is thus paying to enter the US market. It's just the money to pay that fee needs to come from somewhere, and like most taxes on goods, that fee comes from the consumer.

So... what now?

Well, a lot of smaller US companies that rely on cheap goods made in China are buying up non-perishables while they can, before the tariffs hit. Long-term, manufacturers in the US that rely on parts and tools manufactured in China are going to feel the squeeze once that frontloaded stock is depleted.

Some companies are large enough to take the hit on their own end, still selling at cheap rates to the consumer, because they can offset those costs with other parts of their empire... at least until smaller competitors are driven out of business, at which point they can start jacking up their prices since there are no options left. You may look at that and think, "huh, isn't that the modus operandi for Walmart and Amazon already?" and yes. It is. We are very much anticipating a 'rich get richer, poor go out of business' situation with these tariffs.

The tariffs will also impact larger companies, including non-US ones like Zara (Spanish) and H&M (Swedish), if they have a huge reliance on Chinese production to supply their huge market in the United States.

If you're interested in the repercussions that people expect from these proposed tariffs on Chinese goods, I'd suggest listening to or watching the November 8th, 2024 episode of Morning Brew Daily (I linked to YouTube, but it's also available on Spotify, Nebula, the Morning Brew website, and other podcast platforms).

[imstillalexcomic]

Ranma ½ wasn’t my first egg cracking piece of media, but it 100% was a colossal influence on me growing up.  My twin sister, Jackie, and I used to watch anime in the morning before school.  There would be a little run of Sailor Moon, Dragon Ball Z, and Pokemon on starting at 6am.  We’d watch them back to back to back in my mom’s bed (she’d leave early for work).

Jackie got into manga not long after and would mention some of the things she’d be reading.  Eventually, Ranma ½ was one of them.  When she told me it was the story of a boy that was cursed to turn into a girl after touching cold water (and back to a boy again with hot), I immediately wanted to read it.

I wish I had his curse, I’d always think.  I’d work out the logistics of how I could have access to hot water if needed, and what steps I’d take to maintain the life I wanted to live.  Sure, with his curse I’d have to be a boy from time to time, but even just the chance to be a girl for any amount of time made it seem like not a curse at all.

I saw myself in Ranma.  He’d be frustrated by his situation, just like I was, but he dealt with being the wrong gender, just like I had to. 

He learned to take advantage of his curse when possible, and even enjoyed some of his time spent in girl-form. That totally rocks!

We play the cards life deals us. 

One of my cards was gender dysphoria…

…but if Ranma could make it work, so could I.

It’s kind of insane that there’s a remake roughly 23 years later, JUST after I started HRT. I know it’s just a coincidence…

…certainly a fun and meaningful one, though.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠/ 𝙷𝚒𝚖

Your first year living with your favorite lads man and you get to spend the holidays together. How I imagine they act during this holiday season. [Requested by: 🌻 Anon]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

He’s the boyfriend who stands behind you and guides your hands in whatever food you’re prepping

Still a workaholic up until Thanksgiving day, but will find time to help you cook

Suggests to make more desserts because he can’t control his sweet tooth

makes your plate for you “Eat well my love”

tries to start his meal with a slice of pie ; you have to take it and make him eat some actual food first “Desserts are for after the meal” “Desserts can be a meal” “No”

tidying up behind you so much that you don’t even get the chance to help clean up

would definitely do a video call with you to his parents to wish them happy holidays

if you take him home to your family your parents would fall in love with him immediately

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

wants all the holiday sweets and treats

the type of boyfriend who wants to take you to every bakery so you can eat their limited time only holiday sweets

he brings you hot chocolate with marshmallows and a splash of peppermint while you decorate the house

stands by holding the decorations for you

he would definitely still be working during this time but, he would spend every moment he could with you when he’s home

watches Christmas movies with you until you fall asleep and he carries you to bed

hides your gifts in his office at the hospital if you start getting nosy

all over you when you’re baking Christmas cookies, showering you in kisses, arms constantly wrapped around you and sneaking a cookie here and there when you’re not looking

Cozy morning w/ Christmas breakfast before you exchange gifts

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

Wants to give you that New Years kiss you’ve been talking about

takes you to a secluded rooftop patio where you can see the fireworks and share a kiss “Now we’ll last forever” “There was never a doubt in my mind”

if he’s working he rushes home just to give you that kiss at midnight

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

100% a backseat chef while you’re cooking “You should probably turn the heat down” “Can you go paint or something?”

clingy af he would be all in your face while you’re trying to cook “Are you going to help or are you just gonna hang on me like a koala” “I am helping im here for moral support”

gets extremely competitive when your family pulls out any game “Im about to flip the table” “Please don’t”

Eats so elegantly your parents are wondering if you’re dating royalty (which you are)

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

Bought the biggest tree he can find “This is going to take weeks to decorate” “You should just stay here for the rest of the month then”

arts and crafts everything for decorations, he’s painting ornaments with you, anything you can find that you want as a decoration believe he will be making it for you/with you

complains about the cold like he hasn't experienced it before as you drag him to go ice skating or sledding “It’s too cold why is the sun out and i'm still freezing” “Maybe because thats how winter works Raf” “I hate it here”

wakes you up early as hell to open gifts, loves literally anything you buy him

Christmas movie nights w/ face masks, popcorn snacks, and matching pajamas

heavy on the matching pajamas, bought 12 pairs for 12 days of Christmas

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

watches the fireworks with you through the studio floor to ceiling windows wrapped in a blanket

doesn’t understand why you want a new years kiss so bad, but he’ll gladly do it of course

sips his champagne and pushes the cold liquid into your mouth as he kisses you now you shared a kiss and a drink right at midnight "I call that a two for one deal" "Stop talking"

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

Fighting tooth and nail to keep his ass out the kitchen “Xavier I got it don’t worry” “I can just stir the yams” “No really it’s fine just go relax you had a long day”

You end up letting him slice the turkey and he ends up slicing through the whole damn pan “Why don’t you just set the table….” “Yes ma’am”

not a single leftover because this man ate everything

if you took him home to your family for Thanksgiving your parents are questioning if you starve him “He has a bottomless pit in his stomach” “No I don’t” “Lie again”

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

Cold snowy days you two aren’t leaving the bed, he’s curling around you and snoring softly into your boobs

helps you decorate the tree, but asks endless questions “Where do you want this one?” “Just put it anywhere Xav” “Is right here fine?” “Yes right there is fine” “What about this one?” he’s not trying to annoy you he just wants Christmas with you to be perfect

Cookie decorating together, no cooking so it should be safe

late nights ordering in and watching Christmas movies or reading some books that fit the Christmas aesthetic

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

watches fireworks with you from the balcony with warm eggnog topped with cinnamon

be prepared to stay up late after that midnight kiss because he’s not stopping, both sets of lips will get kissed

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

Spending thanksgiving with him and the boy was like a mini family of it’s own

Luke and Kieran helped you prep and you made Sylus help as well “I need to slow cook these greens overnight so start removing the leaf from the stem please” “Are you telling me what to do?” “Yes …. I am …. is there a problem?”

Sylus constantly sends the twins and Mephisto back to the store so he has a reason to be alone with you while you’re cooking

constantly brings up how the chef should be doing this, but you insist that the whole point is to cook together "You know you can just send a menu to the chef" "No it's more home-y this way"

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

hands you his black card and takes you store to store telling you to have fun "I can buy anything I want?" "Anything"

takes you to a privately owned resort (He owns it) for a holiday Christmas trip, bringing Luke and Kieran along begrudgingly because you ‘didn’t want to leave your boys behind’

all those pictures and videos you sent him of fun stuff to do around the holidays he makes it happen

you wanna go snowboarding? he’s on it. Skiing? done. glass blowing Christmas ornaments? done.

Watches with the softest smile on his face as you and the twins decorate the big ass tree you picked out “Sylus I need you” “What is it Princess?” “Let me sit on your shoulders so I can get these ornaments on top of the tree” rolls his eyes, but puts you on his shoulders anyway

wraps you up in his arms and a blanket while you four have a Christmas movie night; carries you to bed when you fall asleep

watches Christmas musicals with you as well

living room is overflowing with gifts for you because this man bought you everything you’ve mentioned that you wanted for the past 3 months

his face may look annoyed when you drag him around from store to store and activity to activity, but he’s more than happy to do it as long as he’s with you

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

Argues with you until 11:59pm just to piss you off “How does good luck factor into this?” “Im not about to argue with you about this” “Too late sweetie you’ve been arguing with me for the last fifteen minutes” “Because you’re being so difficult do you not want-” he’d shut you up with a kiss right at midnight. “I guess this means we’ll last forever now huh?”

[krilati]

Tim, who is not Robin, but still feral

Okay, let's say Tim's parents decide that even if their child doesn't need a nanny, they want someone to check on their son's well-being. So Tim is required to go to the doctor once a week. And after he tried to bribe his first one to just tell his parents everything was fine. Janette decided it would be someone else each time.

Tim gets a car once a week that picks him up to see a doctor he doesn't know.

That way he doesn't have time to search for dirt, and he can't bribe anyone, since everyone drinks his mother more than him.

So after Nightwing turned Tim down (Dick later claimed the boy was black-haired and blue-eyed, but since he was often hallucinating Jason at the time, even he wasn't sure). The guy realized he couldn't go to Batman and insist on being Robin. The first fracture (which is 100% likely to happen in the early days of jumping on roofs and kicking angry adults) and the doctor would hand him over to his parents.

So Tim came up with a Plan.

Batman was angry, for a month now someone, every patrol, has been standing up for criminals. If he's lucky, he manages to land 5 hits (dude, your 1 hit can put a person in the hospital, Tim just has short legs, he still needs to run to the edge of the necessary roof) when someone distracts him.

Last time, they poured a bucket of paint on his head, it became almost impossible to see through the mask. Another time, they shot paintballs at his head until he left.

There was another memorable incident when something small landed on his head, and the next moment he was attacked by bats.

But today he finally cornered the attacker, it was a child whose face was hidden behind a mask that completely covered his face, and his hair was hidden behind a hood. He slowly approached the boy, he needed to find out who he worked for. Who decided that they had the right to interfere with him punishing criminals.

Only when Batman grabbed the attacker by the shoulder he felt dizzy and then everything around him went dark. Tim quietly patted himself on the head for the backup plan of the backup plan.

After waking up, Batman did not feel calmer, on the contrary, this meeting ignited even more rage in him.

How dare this child run around Gotham so carefree when his son was killed, how dare he protect criminals when one of them killed his son, how dare he..

That day, a file on a new criminal with high priority appeared on the Batcomputer, Alfred only reproachfully pursed his lips.

By the time Red Hood escaped from Talia (Yes, he escaped here, I don't know for sure, but I think Talia was pitting Jason against Tim to ensure her son had direct access to Bruce's legacy). Batman and Tim's confrontations became legendary.

Tim even had his own name and merchandise! Several names, actually, he was called Gotham's Whisperer, the Soul of Shadow, or Little Shadow. And in various Gotham stores you could find little figurines of him with various weapons that he demonstrated during this time.

Nightwing adored the little guy, although he had never met him in person. In fact, no one except Bruce had ever encountered the kid. And although Oracle never officially supported the boy, she never warned Batman if she saw a small dark silhouette through the cameras. Although Dick really wanted to know where the kid got the sniper rifle with tranquilizers, or how he hacked the Batmobile to put a sleeping Bruce in it and send him to the Cave, or how he got so many incriminating photos of Batman that he scattered all over the city when Batman didn't take one of his threats seriously.

Simply put, Nightwing was a fan, and had wanted the kid's autograph ever since the kid evacuated an entire alley, including Bruce, by playing the sound of a pack of rabid dogs approaching.

Batman, though he had passed the peak of his rage, still made Gotham afraid if he was spotted trolling alone.

Red Hood was furious, not only did his father not have the courage to avenge him, but he also dared to splash out his aggression on anyone who was not breathing smoothly on HIS Alley of Crime.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

The Lap Mishap 🎄 (Toji x Fem!Reader x Gojo 18+ One Shot)

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader x Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: In which an innocent situation turns into something a lot more complicated (and sloppier) when you accidentally give the two coworkers that you despise raging boners while working as a mall elf for the holiday season. Fortunately for you, they have a way you can make it up to them and save all of their jobs.

Tags: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Mall Santa!Toji; Mall Elves!Gojo & Reader; Younger Woman/Older Men; College Student!Reader x DILF!Toji (Late 30s-Early 40s) x College Student!Gojo (Early 20s); Accidental Boner; Groping; Lap-Sitting; Voyeurism; Masturbation; Dubcon/R*pe; Threesome; Deepthroat; Spit Play; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Facefuck; Objectification; Slutification; Degradation/Praise; Mild Daddy Kink; Bathroom Sex; Cum Play; Throatpies; No PIV

Writer’s Note: I finished this nasty ass one shot just NOW after my new job because I couldn’t wait till this weekend to do it. I haven’t written something this lewd in a hot min tee hee 🤭 I hope y’all enjoy!! -Jazz 🥰🥰

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

“Well, don’t you look adorable.”

You glower at the smug and unfortunately attractive older man sitting at the table in the employee’s lounge with a mug of coffee decorated with running Christmas reindeer. “Don’t, Toji,” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your ample bosom. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

Toji, the sexy, smug older man in question, sniggers into his coffee. “Well, shit, sourpuss,” he replies in his deep, bare toned voice that sends unwanted shivers down our spine. “I was just givin’ you a compliment. C’mon, you know you look cute!”

‘Cute’ isn’t at all what you’d call your elf outfit for your unwanted shift at your crummy seasonal job at the mall.

You would first call it ‘stupid’ because of the pointed green hat and boots you’re forced to wear with the jingling bells attached so you always make noise when you walk.

The second thing you’d call it is ‘slutty’. The red vest hugs your ample tits which you’ve been blessed and cursed with by the lineage of women in your family, the push-up bra making your girls way more noticeable.

The green skater skirt is way too short and you have to be very careful bending anywhere in fear of flashing someone your panties.

And you won’t even mention the red and white striped thigh-high socks and gloves. You feel like a stripper about to make her grand debut at the North Pole dancing in Santa’s workshop!

There is no way the costume designers didn’t know what the fuck they were doing here. You had to rush down the hallway after changing in the locker room to avoid being seen by your fellow overworked and underpaid seasonal employees and mall workers.

You had originally decided to work retail this season to save up on money for Christmas gifts and next year’s tuition. You’re a college student, so your stress levels are at about 100 with winter finals, buying gifts, and still keeping enough sanity to celebrate the holidays on winter break.

You’ve been working retail shifts at Bath & Body Works since September to get a head start on saving plus doing office work for your manager and taking some shifts as a greeter at City Winery aka the only decent restaurant at your local mall.

You thought your time here couldn’t get any worse than customers complaining about discontinued body washes and screaming kids, but you were wrong. When your manager picked you to be the mall elf for the mall Santa shifts this month, you thought you died and descended into Hell.

The only saving graces are that it is only for one month, you get extra pay, and you only have to work four hours throughout the day in this stupid costume. You thought you would have time to relax until the first shift in the privacy of the employee’s lounge, but clearly not.

Of course, you’re forced to share the space with a coworker you can’t stand. “What are you even doing in here?” you ask, scowling at Toji. “Don’t the security guards have their own lounge?”

“Eh,” Toji says, shrugging. “Too many people smoke in there. Plus, you guys got the best mugs.” He raises his mug at you and raises his brows once, smirking at you with that sinful, scarred mouth. “Plus, I need to relax before my shift.”

You sigh, carefully walking into the lounge and taking your Starbucks Frappuccino out of the fridge despite Toji’s presence making you feel nervous enough to fog up your glasses.

Toji Fushiguro is the hot DILF security guard that works full time at the mall to support his son as a single dad. You’ve been working the same shifts as him since September, always earning unwanted attention from him when he opens the doors for you when you arrive and leave your mall shifts.

It is no secret that you strongly dislike the man. He is cocky, pompous, arrogant, and always smells faintly of cigarettes. He is also extremely sexy, standing at six-foot something with defined muscles and arms that could wrestle a bear. You can see why he was hired as a security guard.

He is also a huge slut according to the stories you’ve heard. The man has HUGE community dick (and a huge dick, apparently). He knows he is attractive and knows how to get what he wants from women. But not you, even though he has tried. You wave off his compliments, uninterested in spending any kind of time with him. He is a whore and nothing more.

But Toji isn’t the only coworker at this mall that you detest. “Hey, Fushiiii,” the familiar, silky voice of your fellow college student mockingly sings from the door. Toji begins to laugh, nearly coughing into his coffee. “Damn, Gojo, you look ridiculous!” he guffaws.

You turn from the fridge and you wish you didn’t. Of course, Gojo Satoru is dressed in his own elf costume.

The tall, beefy, six foot-something college athlete and smarty-pants looks less ridiculous than you do despite the silliness of the outfit. His white locks peek out from under his pointed hat and his red socks are stretched tight over his strong calves.

You hide your laughter, refusing to even crack a smile around the guy. Unfortunately, you’re familiar with Satoru. He isn’t quite a friend or really an enemy either…not even an acquaintance. He is more of a colleague who goes to the same school as you and you’ve had many courses with despite you being a junior and him being a senior.

He is also incredibly intelligent, the star basketball player on your uni’s team, just as cocky as Toji, and incredibly good-looking. You’ve had many thoughts of his plump, pink lips and Colgate smile when you should be studying.

Satoru is more than convinced that you two are friends who sometimes flirt. When he sees you, his blue eyes are all aglow. “Ooooh, don’t you look so cute!” he coos.

“Oh, please, don’t start,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “I already had to hear that from him.” You nod at the security guard sitting spread eagle at the table. “But it’s true, ain’t it?” Toji sniggers. “You’re gonna get a whole lot of attraction with this little get-up.”

He reaches out and flicks one of the tiny bells attached to your belt. “Cut it out!” you hiss, slapping his hand away. Your skin grow hot with frustration and embarrassment.

“Oooh, she’s feisty,” Satoru chuckles. “Hang on, I need to get a picture. This is just too good.” He slides his phone out of his pocket, but you duck behind a nearby chair.

“Don’t,” you growl. “Take a picture of yourself. I’m sure your boys on your team would love to see your new get-up.”

Satoru laughs, coming into the kitchen, ducking under the door to avoid hitting his head because he’s so goddamn tall. “I already did and I still look good,” he replies. “How much you wanna bet I’ll snag a single MILF with this fit?”

He gives you a wink while Toji laughs, eyes still on you. Anyone else would feel rather intimidated being in a room with two broad, tall, hot dudes, but it is as if you have no inkling that these two are even remotely attracted to you.

A little self-deprecating of you, but you’re an extreme nerd. Not only are you rocking glasses that make your eyes explode to the capacity of the frames, you always have your nose stuck in a book or a study guide. You don’t get involved in dating on campus or who is fucking who.

While it would be nice to find someone nice to call a boyfriend, you know that men are too involved with less-nerdy girls to even try to talk to you, and you prefer it that way…at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“You wish,” you scoff at Satoru as he passes you to grab a bottle of water. As he does, his hip bumps yourself, making you feel as if you’ve just been burned.

“She’s gotchu there, Gojo,” Toji chuckles. “Not when my sexy ass is gonna be wearin’ this Santa outfit.”

“Wait, what?” You turn to stare at the security guard, mouth open in shock. “You’re playing the mall Santa this year?”

Toji nods and smirks at your reaction, moving his legs from under the table to reveal his leather boots and red pants with furry, white trim along the ankles and belt. His black tee is tight against his toned, impressive upper torso, outlining each ridge of his pecs and abs.

“That’s correct, my dear elf,” he teasingly answers, making Satoru snigger. “You’re about to be workin’ for me in the next few minutes and for the rest of the month.”

“And workin’ with me,” Satoru adds, his pink lips curled into a teasing smile that boils your blood. “Your favorite project partner and classmate.” He, too, plays with the bell on your belt, making you swat his hand away.

This couldn’t be any worse! The last thing you want is to spend the next month with these two assholes. You desperately want to hit your manager up and tell her to switch you with someone else, but you know that no one else is willing to be the mall elf this year.

So with a heavy heart, you finish your few minutes of privacy with your Frappuccino in the locker room before you’re forced to stand alongside Satoru the Mall Elf while Toji gets settled in his fake armchair among the gaudy Christmas setup for Santa Claus. Toji sits in the whole Santa getup, beard to cover his cleanly-shaven face and all. His legs are spread eagle and you have to avoid looking at him so you won’t be staring at his crotch.

Two more mall elves, high schoolers Yuji Itadori and Kugisaki Nobara, help round up the kids in line and chat with the parents (or argue with them, courtesy of Nobara) while Satoru announces to the kids how to conduct themselves around Toji Claus. “Aaaaalright, boys and girls!” he bellows, his voice echoing among the dozens of rosy-faced little munchkins. “Are y’all ready to meet Santa Claus?!”

“Yeeeeeah!” the kids cheer, overexcited and overjoyed to sit in a grown man’s lap, telling him what they want for Christmas, and get some photos snapped.

You smile a bit. You’ll admit that Satoru is good with kids being the yapper he is. “Now just as a reminder to you fine folks: no shoving, hitting, yelling or spitting. There is plenty of Santa to go around. When you finally come up here with me and this other fine elf here…”

He motions a hand to you and gives you a wink that you nearly miss. You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach flips. “…you sit in Santa’s lap and nicely tell him what you’d like for Christmas,” he finishes. “You guys got it?” While some nod in understanding, others look lost. “I think they need a demonstration, Satoru!” Itadori calls while Nobara snorts.

Satoru wickedly grins at Toji, but the mall Santa isn’t having that. “Nah,” he deadpans behind his fake beard. “You’re too tall to be a kid…but she’s not.” He points at you with one gloved hand, smirking. “You ready to be a model student, college girl?” he whispers.

“Fuck off,” you hiss under your breath. There is no way he can be serious about this! “Our dear elf Y/N, Santa’s favorite elf at the North Pole, is about to demonstrate for you guys what to do,” Satoru announces, struggling hard to fight his laughter.

Toji pats his lap, his smile almost obscene. “Come, little girl: sit on Da—, I mean Santa’s lap.”

You simmer hot with anger and frustration, not just for him but for Satoru who even thought to encourage this. But with the kids and parents all looking at you, you have no choice.

Swallowing your pride and not-so-nice words, you smooth your skirt over your ass and take a tentative seat in Toji’s warm, muscular lap. You sit rigidly, your hands stiffly in your lap and shoulders tense.

Toji places a hand on the arm of his chair, right next to your elbow. “Now what would you like for Christmas, hm?” he asks. “A Barbie? A puppy? Maybe a sense of humor?”

You turn to him, your jaw thigh. “I hate you,” you mouth.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you too well, little girl,” he replies, tapping his ear. “Santa’s hearin’ ain’t too good. Can you speak up for me?” His eyes glow with humor and mirth, finding enjoyment in your suffering.

You fix a smile onto your face and look straight at the happy-faced kids. “A Barbie please, Santa,” you chirp, your voice fake and cheery. Suddenly, a big, gloved hand snakes around your waist, holding you firmly onto his lap. You gape at him, alarmed. “W-What are you—“

“And what else, little girl?” he interrupts, his voice growing lower. More seductive. “Go on, tell ol’ Santa what else you’d like under your tree.” His grip tightens a bit, not enough to hurt you but just enough to be possessive of you. You stare at him, completely speechless.

“Oh, oh, I want a kitty cat!” a little girl yells from the line of kids. Her bold statement causes the other kids to begin screaming out what they want. The commotion distracts the adults enough for you to deal with Toji. “What the hell are you doing?!” you hiss. “Let go of me!”

You try to stand up, but Toji tightens his arm and snatches you back down, his fingers nearly digging into your thigh as your skirt rides up an inch. “Ah-ah, don’t move around too much, doll,” he whispers, his voice like smooth whiskey. “You’ll cause somethin’ that you didn’t intend to do…or maybe you did.”

As you see his eyes grow hooded, you feel your stomach fluttering with frantic butterflies…as well as something else. Something you feel growing underneath you. When you accidentally shift in Toji’s lap, he quietly groans behind his fake beard, muffling the noise, but you hear it.

You also feel the very obvious, hard, swelling, throbbing bulge growing underneath your ass. “Oh, my God,”you gasp, looking behind you. “Y-You’re…you’re ha—“

“Sorry,” he apologizes though he doesn’t sound the least bit sorry. “But can ya blame me? I’m a guy, after all.”

You gape at him, your face ablaze, unsure of what to do or how to feel. Should you feel flattered? Disgusted? Embarrassed? With the way his hand is still securely wrapped around you, you aren’t sure anymore. “Y-You can’t—“

“What?” Toji chuckles, his laughter soft yet seductive. “Don’t act like you’re not enjoyin’ this or like you haven’t been eye-fucking me since we met.” His gray eyes slide over to the tall, white-haired elf currently chatting up a married couple. “Not just me but the basketball star too.”

You are unable to talk despite your desire to protest. But he’d know you weren’t telling the truth.

Toji pulls his beard down to show off his plump, kissable lips and you have the sudden urge to kiss his scar. “Lucky for you, babes, I’ve got a thing for chicks with glasses.” He smiles up at you, the act somehow making him more handsome and more irritating.

His grip loosens and you finally shoot out of his lap as if your ass is on fire. Speaking of ass, the damn thing is nearly out because of how your skirt has ridden up past your red stockings.

“Alright, boys and girls!” Satoru yells. “Time for…” He turns around, just in time to get a flash of your red panties and how soft and suckable your thighs look in your stockings. ”Fuck,” he says under his breath, gaping at you and envisioning some very nasty things.

“Time for some photos!” Itadori calls. “Everybody line up, one at a time to meet Santa!”

Satoru is too distracted by your soft thighs and the flash of your red panties to pay any attention to his job. You notice his eyes and quickly pull your skirt down as low as it can go….which isn’t very low.

“I’m shocked you ain’t feelin’ a draft,” Toji whispers. “Careful, doll. You might flash the kiddos.” You glare, but not at him. You don’t look anywhere at him. “I could tell you the same thing, jackass,” you hiss. “Don’t look at me.”

But you can still feel his glaring, hot gaze on you, as well as Satoru’s. Nobara has to kick him in the ankle to snap him out of it. “Uh, Gojo?” she whispers. “Helloooo? The camera for the pictures?”

Blushing as red as Toji’s uniform, Satoru quickly fumbles with the camera as the first little boy comes up to Toji, smiling big and bright for the mall Santa. You stand off to the side, discreetly pulling at your skirt and wishing to melt into the floor.

After an hour of standing there pretending not to be aroused by the idea of Toji’s cock, you’re finally given a 30-minute break for lunch. You quickly make a beeline for the security guards’ break room located at the back of the mall, knowing that most of them are posted outside or on duty on different floors.

The breakroom is luckily empty, but you can barely eat most of your lunch except for a bag of chips and gulp down some water. You can’t even relax. Mostly because of the throbbing sensation between your legs.

You whimper, shifting your body in the chair closest to the private locker room and bathroom. You have felt like this for over an hour, doing your best to ignore the tingling between your thighs as you assisted each kid.

But now as you sit in the privacy and darkness of the break room, you can’t ignore the uncomfortable wetness of your panties anymore…or how depraved you are getting horny over Toji’s cock. You know you can’t go on like this, not when you need to work.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you mutter to yourself. But you leave your post anyway and quickly hide in the empty locker room where you proceed to shut the door and sit on the bench farthest away from it.

Quickly, you reach under your skirt and slip your panties down to your thighs. “Ah,” you gasp as the warm air hits your bare, sodden wet pussy. You are a mess. How could the idea of Toji getting a stupid boner arouse you so?

When you close your eyes, the images get worse. You see the sexy, smirking security guard peeling down his Santa pants to reveal his fat, throbbing, veiny cock just curved enough to help you imagine what it would stroke inside of you.

As you take two fingers and begin to slowly rub your needy clit, you see yourself wrapping your lips around the thick cock in front of you as your hand wraps around his shaft. You can almost taste him, feel his warm balls against your chin.

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper, your voice quivering as your fingers grow slippery. Your slick trickles down your slit as you frantically play with yourself, hearing Toji’s low moans in your head as he sinks into your throat.

You can feel yourself growing closer, your pussy oozing more and more slick just as Toji begins to fuck your face as he grabs the back of your head, pulling your hair. Your breath comes out in short pants that sound louder in the empty locker room as the knot in your core grows tighter. “T-T-To—“

The door suddenly opens and there the mall Santa stands. He looks shocked to see you at first, but then his face turns into one of pure smugness. “Now what do we have here?” he mockingly asks. “A very naughty fuckin’ girl.”

You nearly scream, quickly closing your legs and covering yourself. “Fuck!” you gasp. “What the fuck are doing in here?!”

Toji leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his beefy chest. He has ditched the Santa jacket for his black tee, but kept the pants and boots. “Came in for a break since all the guards are on shift, but I see you decided to do the same thing.”

You flush hot with humiliation, your heart pummeling in your chest. “T-This isn’t what it looks like,” you weakly say. Toji cocks his head to the side. “Really? ‘Cause it looks and sounded like you were just rubbin’ that little pussy to the thought of me before your next shift.”

His lips curl into a knowing smile. “So the earlier situation got to you too. Lucky for you, babydoll, I’m still not over it either.”

His big hand grips his hard-on chubbing against his red pants, captivating you.

Then…zzzzzip. His fly comes down, his belt comes off, and suddenly, his cock is out and slapping against his toned stomach and happy trail. It is as thick, veiny, and curved as you envisioned in your fantasy. Your eyes grow wide at the sight like a deer caught in headlights. Suddenly, you can’t move.

“I’m still very much on the hard side,” he breathlessly states, his eyes hooded with lust. “And since this is your fault, I think you need to take responsibility for it.” He flashes his teeth at you in a grin, wrapping a hand around his hard cock. “Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

You watch him jerk his dick in front of you, your pussy clenching around air at the lewd sight. Suddenly, he stops and walks up to you, his boots thudding across the floor. He looms over you, a wolfish grin on his face, and you lean back as far as you can against the lockers like a trapped animal. “C’mon, you can be a good little helper for Santa and help me out, right?”

You don’t know whether to say yes or tell him to go fuck himself. You know you should go for the second option. After all, he’s being a pervert and using earlier as an excuse.

But somehow, all common knowledge, logic, and ethics go out the window when you suddenly find yourself dragged into a bathroom stall and kneeling on the tiled floor with Toji’s cock in your mouth. His big hand intertwines in your hair, his thick, calloused fingers gripping each strand to push and pull you onto his cock.

“You’re doin’ so good so far, babydoll,” he praises, his voice strained with pleasure. “Keep it up for me, ‘kay? You’ve got about twenty minutes left to make Santa cum.”

His groans and grunts are quiet yet delicious, heard by your ears only in the empty bathroom stall as your cheeks hollow around his cock. He is bigger and thicker than you anticipated, leaving your jaw aching trying to accommodate him as you suck him off. Saliva drips down from your mouth down your chin, threatening to stain your top.

As if thinking the same thing, Toji rips your top down, exposing your tits to him. “Fuck, look at how sexy you are,” he groans, watching the way your chest jiggles and sways as your throat expands and flexes around him. “Such a good little slut for me. Swore you didn’t want me, but now look at you.”

He forces your chin up to look at him, your watery eyes and crooked glasses staring up into his devious, salacious gaze. “Betcha you always wanted to do this,” he chuckles. “Betcha you played hard to get just to drive me fuckin’ crazy like the little cock whore you are.”

He wipes some spit away from your lips before he pushes himself in deeper, nearly making you choke. You pull yourself away far enough to cough and catch your breath. “T-Toji, wait,” you gasp. “You’re too deep!”

He ignores you, forcing your mouth open and plunging himself back between your plush, wet lips to sink into your sloppy, velvety throat. “But you can take me, baby,” he pants. “Oooh, I know you can. Sluts like you feen for nasty shit like this.”

He begins to fuck your face, emitting squelching sounds from his wet cock constantly plunging into your throat as you gag around him. “Yeah, that’s it,” he moans in delight. “That’s what I like to hear. You just keep bein’ a good girl for me, baby.”

Your throat continues to make the most obscene, wet, and lewd sounds, the squelching and gagging possibly drifting throughout the bathroom and locker room rafters. The more Toji rails your face and plunges his cock into your throat, the louder the sounds become. His grunts and moans also grow louder, bouncing off of the tiled walls.

You can tell he is close from the way he grabs the back of your head, forcing your face closer until his balls are flush against your chin. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum!” he groans, his muscular, naked thighs tense as he fucks your mouth like he is trying to hit a home run. “C’mon, doll, take Daddy’s fuckin’ load.” He pauses, chuckling. “I mean take Santa’s load. You want a white Christmas, don’tcha?”

You can’t even answer. You can’t warn him either when the door to the bathroom suddenly opens just as Toji’s loud, guttural groan of release escapes his mouth. As the bathroom stall flies open, a load of Toji’s warm spunk floods your throat, filling your mouth to capacity. There is so much that it spills out of the corners of your mouth and down your chin.

“Fuck!” he moans, soft high-pitched hums leaving his lips as he slides his cock out of your mouth and pumps the rest of his cum onto your glasses. Droplets of spunk fly onto the lenses, fogging them up.

You can’t be more horrified by anything else when you turn and find Satoru standing there in his elf costume. He looks shocked to see you kneeling there before Toji with cum all over your mouth, glasses, and some on your tits with your pussy openly gushing through your panties on the floor. But once the shock subsides, a Cheshire Cat-like smile appears on his lips. “Oops,” he chuckles. “Guess I’m in the wrong bathroom.”

Toji laughs, sounding like a straight-up villain. “Nah, you’re in the right place. You’ve still got time left if ya wanna use it on her.” Satoru shuts the bathroom stall and you realize just how big it exactly is. Big enough for three people. “Shit,” he scoffs, a shit-eating grin on his face. “What else am I here for?”

Both men look down upon you like you’re no more than a dessert plate for consumption. Despite the ridiculous costumes, the duo remind you of villains. “Sorry to shock you, cutie, but he ain’t the only one you’ve got rock.” Satoru palms his hard cock pushing against his green pants. “I’ve been thinkin’ about those lips and these panties for hours.”

He kneels and forces you into a face-down, ass-up position, making you squeak in surprise. You have to cushion your cheek with your hands to avoid the nasty floor. When one of Satoru’s fingers slides against your pantyline, you gasp. “Oh! And she’s wet!” He tuts at you, giving your ass a harsh spank and groaning at the recoil. “Naughty little elf. What would Santa say?”

He takes your panties by the waistband and tugs them tight against your wet pussy, making you whimper at the friction. Toji chuckles, giving your ass his own harsh spank. “Santa’s says this little whore needs to be punished,” he whispers and it’s almost threatening to your ears.

And punish you, they do…in their own wicked, lewd, torturous way. Suddenly, you find yourself sitting on the toilet seat with your legs while Toji kneels between your thighs, slurping and licking away at your cunt while his thick finger fucks your hole. Satoru stands to your left, rutting his hips into your mouth, his long dick plunging in and out of your throat.

“Fuck, your mouth is so wet, honey,” he moans, palming one of your tits. “Shit, Toji, how much did you cum in here?” His handsome face is flushed and his blue eyes are desperate as he does his best to quiet his whimpers and whines over your sloppy throat.

Toji chuckles, his tongue piercing tickling your clit as he flicks the tip of his tongue against it, sending shocks of sensitivity and tingles of pleasure throughout your body. “Enough to make her throat slick enough to fuck.” Your pussy clenches around his finger, your velvety, slick walls tightening around his digit.

The older man looks up at you, smirking into your desperate, needy eyes. “Oooh, I tasted that gush. You like the sound of another throatpie for that slutty mouth, babydoll?” He dives back into your pussy, his tongue sloshing and slashing about, probing an answer out of you. “Mmm-hmph-mmm!” you whine around Satoru’s cock, your screams muffled by his constant fucking.

Toji chortles into your pussy, pulling away to regard Satoru with your slick all over his lips. “That’s a yes,” he chuckles. Satoru blushes, overcome with lust as he watches his long cock disappear between your soft, juicy lips. “F-Fuck, I hope so,” he whines, cupping your cheek. “Goddamn, cutie, you’re fucking mouth is….”

His words die into desperate moans as he continues to ram your throat like he’s trying hard to fill it with his babies. Your nostrils are full of the scent of his body wash and cologne, somehow acting as aphrodisiacs for you. “You sound even sluttier than her,” Toji chuckles. “I think she likes it though. Look at this sexy little bitch.”

Under their hot gazes, you feel like the slut they see: titties out, pussy exposed, and getting used in a bathroom stall. Satoru takes his cock out to lightly tap your tongue. “You like gettin’ this mouth fucked at work, slutty girl?” he teases.

Before you can even think of a reply, Toji hooks his finger up in a way that makes your eyes roll back. “O-Oh, fuck!” you moan, louder than you should’ve. Satoru quickly plugs your mouth back up with his cock, plunging deeper and deeper, making you take every inch. “Mmm, that’s a pretty face, cutie. Keep lookin’ at me like that.”

His blue eyes kick on yours, reminding you of oceans in the far-away Caribbean Islands, while he slips his cock out of your mouth. He grips your chin and whispers a fierce “C’mere” before his lips are slamming against yours.

As you kiss, Toji’s tongue moves faster, his moans traveling up to your core and sending vibrations through your clit. Satoru pulls away and spits in your mouth, the act so quick and surprising that you nearly miss it.

“Spit it back on my cock,” he demands and you do, making his cock shiny with your spit before he slides back in. After a few more sloppy thrusts that cause your glasses to wobble and spit to drip down your chest, he’s close. “Shit!” he gasps. “Fuck, fuck, fuck me, m’gonna cum! You’re gonna…fuck, baby!”

You are too. You can feel your pussy tightening, clenching, throbbing with the urge to release. “Mmmm!” you whine around his cock, your thighs trembling around Toji’s neck.

The security guard intensely stares at you, forcing you to cum with that damn finger crooked inside of you. “Give it to me,” he demands. “You know you fuckin’ want to. Go ‘head, babydoll.”

You can’t help yourself. You hush all around Toji’s cock just as Satoru loses the last thread of self control and cums deep in your mouth with a long, loud moan that no doubt attracts unwanted attention from the outside.

Another fat, creamy throatpie fills your mouth and streams down your throat, nearly making you choke. Satoru luckily pulls out, but only to jerk the last drops of spunk onto your tits and glasses, staining your skirt and top in the process.

As the last tendrils of pleasure course through you, Toji slurps you up and leaves your pussy twitching from his ministrations. As he sits back to sigh, Satoru releases a huff, exhausted but satisfied. “Oh, fuck,” he groans followed by a whistle. “That was amazing! Definitely needed for a shitty shift.”

Toji nods, his lips coated in you. “I concur,” he hums in pleasure. He leans up to get eye level with you and holds your chin in his hand. “C’mere, doll…taste yourself. This slutty pussy is just too good to not share.”

He smashes his lips against yours, pulling you in for a sloppy French kiss that steals your breath away. Jealous, Satoru yanks you away towards him.

“Save some for me,” he murmurs before he leans in to kiss you, softly moshing as he does. He then pulls away, kneels, and slurps the rest of you off of your open thighs despite your whimpers of agony. It hurts too good.

Ring-ring-ring!

You jump at the sudden sound. Satoru reaches into his back pocket to get his phone. “Uh-oh!” he mockingly announces. “That’s the timer. Break time is over.”

Toji begins to get dressed, zipping up his fly and tucking in his shirt. “We should probably clean her up. Poor baby looks like she can’t even walk.” He laughs at your expense, humored by your fucked-out, messy state.

Despite them both using your holes just now, the two dress and clean you up as much as possible. They pull your skirt down, fix your top, clean off your glasses, and smooth down your skirt.

Once finished, Toji passes you a napkin out of his pocket. “Wipe your mouth, babydoll,” he sniggers. “You don’t want people to ask what’s on your face…or glasses. Shit, we did a number on ya.”

He plants a sloppy, wet tongue kiss on your mouth, filling your tongue with the taste of your pussy and himself. “This was a lot of fun, sugar,” he says with a smirk. “Call me again if you need a worthwhile break, alright?”

You wordlessly stare at him, unable to form words…or even think them.

“Same here,” Satoru adds, flashing you a smile as he fixes his costume. “I’ll know who to go to for my little ‘problem’ next time.” He presses a kiss to your cheek before he and Toji head out of the stall back to work.

But Satoru stops and turns back to you, smirking. “Oh, and…”

He bends down and snatches up your red panties, tugging on the waistband with his teeth before stuffing them in his pocket.

“These are mine.”

He gives you a wink and blows you a kiss. “See ya out there!” he hollers before he disappears out of the bathroom with Toji, leaving you alone with your thoughts and regrets. But also supremely satisfied.

In the end, you’re late back to your shift.

THE END.

[blue-ink-pearls]

So, I know people are really desperate for Sandra Lynn to have hooked up with Pamela Dawn instead of Bobby Dawn, and I completely understand that!* Bobby Dawn is slimy and awful and we don't know much about Pamela, so maybe she's better? But it is 100% Bobby Dawn for two very clear reasons:

Sklonda literally said it was him

Bobby Dawn has always been a predator

The first thing we learn about Sandra Lynn's affair during Spring Break Sophomore Year was that she had just left Aguefort (she dropped out her senior year and got a diploma later on) and she was very young. She was asked to join an established adventuring party of people who were older than her and that had lost one of its members. She fell in love with another member of the party that was already in a relationship, they had an affair, and then when the affair was discovered, Sandra Lynn was blamed, kicked out of the party, and her name was smeared as far and wide as possible by the person who had taken advantage of her so that person could absolve themselves, likely in the eyes of their partner and the party.

So what we can immediately deduce from this is that Sandra Lynn was an outsider to her new adventuring party, likely looked down on as "just a kid", maybe disdained for being a dropout, and most definitely resented for taking the place of the (presumably) dead party member. She was in actively dangerous and stressful situations while questing with the party and she probably had little support from the group during that time.

Sandra Lynn was very very vulnerable.

When he met Sandra Lynn, Bobby Dawn would have been about 20 years younger than he is now, likely in his late 30s/early 40s.** Probably still handsome, still a "dashing" active adventurer. He was married to Pamela already (not just in an established relationship), since he had a child by then that was close to grown and I don't think the Church of Sol would be very happy about a child out of wedlock. He would have been a cleric of Sol and probably still preaching "the good word of Sol" but it likely wouldn't have been constant. You can't give sermons while fighting monsters. I'm sure he even saved Sandra Lynn's life a few times!

The thing about Bobby Dawn being a televangelist now, but not then, is that when he was young, he was probably just as good at persuasion, at finding vulnerable people and exploiting their weaknesses to get what he wanted, and yet he hadn't made a name for himself as a televangelist, so people wouldn't know to be wary of him trying to convert or manipulate them.

The scene between Bobby and Kristen, when Kristen is pretending that Cassandra died shows exactly what kind of terrible person Bobby really is. He is happy to find Kristen devastated, that she is having "a real dark night of the soul" and needs guidance. He refuses to help Kristen stay at Aguefort (something that's within his power), despite knowing how beneficial that would be to her well-being, because that goes against his own goals. He is smug and condescending and cruel. He is preying on Kristen's devastation and vulnerability (not knowing it's an act), to draw her back into the fold of the Church of Helio/Sol.

The person who did that to Kristen, is the exact same person who took advantage of Sandra Lynn when she was still basically a kid, just out of high school. He took advantage of her feelings for him, her inexperience and isolation. And then, when they were discovered, he threw her away and made her the villain so he could get away with it.

He ruined Sandra Lynn's life. Yes, she's happy now with her daughter, her partner, and the beautiful home they've made at Mordred Manor with Adaine, Kristen, Lydia, Ragh, Tracker, Zayn, Aelwyn, Boggy, and 15 cats. But Sandra Lynn ended up with self-esteem and relationship issues that she is still dealing with to this day. Those issues ruined her marriage, could have ruined her relationship with Jawbone, and likely played a hand in the difficulties between her and Fig in Freshman Year, as Sandra Lynn saw her daughter take her first steps into the world of adventuring.

Because Sandra Lynn first wanted to be an adventurer and Bobby Dawn took that away from her, just like he tried to do to Kristen.

Bobby Dawn has shaped his career as a high priest of Sol and as a televangelist by portraying himself as the epitome of righteousness. He is rotten to the core, a predator in a job where he is meant to help people, and I CANNOT WAIT to see the Bad Kids take him down.

*I don't really understand it. Pamela Dawn is likely just as bad as Bobby. She's the chief paladin of the church of Sol, her husband is a televangelist and a High Priest of Sol, and she would have been around the same age as Bobby and having an affair with a vulnerable young girl who she then kicked out of the group and slandered. It being Pamela would still be awful!

**Even with the assumption that both Bobby Dawn and his child had their kids at a young age, the math still has to take into account that Sandra Lynn's daughter is the same age as Bobby Dawn's GRANDSON.