#excused of any wrongdoing

[druidgroves]

i wish people understood you can critique a woman without calling her a bitch but i won't hold my breath

[david-watts]

I'm so upset. just upset. I'm not even angry like usual I just want to cry

[infectiouspiss]

whatever mcr say about bobs death you need to remember they spent a very long time being his closest friends, they toured the world together and no matter how shitty bob became in the last few years, he was still a huge part of their lives and they're allowed to be sad over his passing.

they're going to be focused on the good times and the impact he had on them, any sadness they express is not to be confused with them excusing his actions. gerard ray frank and mikey were very close to him, his death is going to hurt, even if in the end they didn't like him.

we JUST went over this kind of nuanced response to a celebrity death with liam paynes passing, grief does not mean you're excusing any wrongdoing. the people hurt by bobs words and actions are also allowed to feel joy or relief, that doesn't make them bad people.

more than one thing can be true at once. "bob was an incredibly talented drummer and has a huge impact on the lives of many" and "bobs right wing views and hateful words have hurt many" and "bobs mental decline seemingly resulted in a ring wing spiral" and "mental heath does not excuse bigotry" and "those suffering mental health issues deserve compassion and treatment" ARE ALL TRUE AT ONCE.

life and death are full of nuance. don't be a dick.

[lustfulslxt]

Spoiled Rotten - Chris Sturniolo

summary : chris spoils you like no other and you show him how grateful you are

warnings : chris basically being a sugar daddy, swearing, m! oral, p in v, breeding kink, probably some other shit idk

a/n : hii, it’s been entirely too long. i’m kinda rusty but i hope this makes up for it!!

—

Getting everything you’ve ever wanted, even without having to ask, is something you never would’ve imagined for yourself. You’ve always had to work so incredibly hard for even the smallest things. Hell, you’ve had to work two jobs since you were old enough to work, just to be able to afford your bills.

Having a deadbeat father and a mother who had passed always made your life hard. It was up to you to keep things afloat. Keeping the bills paid, the kitchen stocked with groceries, the house tidy — it was all up to you, on top of having to keep your grades up to avoid the wrath of your absent yet, for some reason, still abusive father.

After your mom died, everything went downhill. Your father spiraled out of control. Because of his own wrongdoings, he took his anger out on you. He lost his job, gambled away the majority of your family’s savings, and spent the rest of it on alcohol and drugs. He made it all out to be your fault. If you hadn’t stepped up and started working your ass off, you’d definitely be living on the streets right now.

So, from where you were only a few years ago, to where you are now — you never would’ve pictured having any and everything you could ever want. Especially, from someone else’s wallet.

Chris’ wallet.

Your boyfriend knew of your previous struggles. He’d been your best friend since you were in elementary, so he witnessed what you had to do to get by. He’d beg and beg for you to just let him help, but you’d always refuse. If your own father can’t take care of you, why would you expect someone else to?

However, after so long, Chris ignored your reluctance and was quick to pamper you. Quick to provide for you. You’re everything to him, and he wants to make up for your sorry excuse of a father.

He moved you in with him after being together for two years. He doesn’t let you pay for anything. Him and his brothers keep the bills paid, as well as food in the kitchen. Anything to do with money, he’s got covered. And he still makes sure to spoil you rotten. Yet, not without a complaint from you.

“Chris!” You pouted, “Will you put your damn wallet away?”

Instantly, he’s shaking his head, “No. I don’t know why we have to keep going over this. Whatever you want, I’m getting. So, stop complaining and accept it.”

“But-“

He’s quick to cut you off with a peck to your lips. When you huff, he only grins and wraps an arm around your waist, continuing your stroll through the store.

Chris is extremely observant, and he knows you. He knows you like the back of his hand. So, when you turn away from something too quick after checking the price tag, he knows it’s something you like. You’re trying to throw him off and act uninterested in the entire store, but he can read you better than anyone.

So, while you’re off browsing through everything, grabbing the few things that you can afford, in hopes of talking him into letting you pay for it, he’s backtracking and grabbing your size in everything you took a liking in. By the time you make your way to the registers, Chris is already swiping his card.

Upon seeing the multiple bags on the counter in front of him, you can’t help but frown. You slowly turn around, heading to put the few shirts you had grabbed back. There’s no use in trying.

When you head back to Chris, he’s eyeing you with furrowed eyebrows. You walk next to him and he’s looking between you and the rack you were just at.

“Did you want those?” He asks.

You quickly shake your head, “No.”

“Are you sure? I can-“

You instantly loop your arm with his and drag him to the exit. You’re extremely grateful, but you can’t help but a little guilty because he spends so much money on you. You don’t want him to feel obligated just because you had a shitty past.

However, that’s far from how he feels. He just loves and adores you, and wants to give you everything you could ever want.

On the way home, Chris has your hand in his while he drives. Your eyes never leave him as you’re deep in thought. Thinking of everything he’s ever done and continues to do for you makes you so happy you could cry. You just want to show him how appreciative you are.

Pulling up to the house, you notice a big box sitting in front of the door. You furrow your eyebrows for a second, before concluding one of the boys must have ordered something. Once you both get out with the few bags, you head over and Chris picks up the box with a giant smile on his face.

You can’t help but smile at his smile, “Is that for you? What did you get?”

His eyes twinkle as he looks at you, “You’ll see.”

You give him a quizzical look before following him inside. Rather than stopping at the kitchen, he goes straight down to your shared room, so you follow him.

He places the box on the floor and is quick to open it. You set your bags down on the desk chair and walk over to him, your brows raised with curiosity. As soon as he gets the box open, he smiles widely and gestures for you to look and rummage through. Which you do. What you see has you gasping.

“Chris! You did not…”

He proudly nods, “I did, baby.”

Inside the box are numerous purses, shoes, fragrances, and several boxed skincare products. All things you had in your online cart. Things you never actually planned on buying, for the prices are too expensive, and you were only having a little fun.

Your heart swells at the gesture. He’s always doing the absolute most for you. There’s never ever been a time where he’s denied you of something you want, especially if it comes with a price tag.

You turn to Chris, a downward smile pulling to your lips as you look at him. He smiles back, only bigger and brighter. You take his hands in yours and yank him into you. Your lips meet his in a soft kiss. When he pulls away, you’re left chasing his lips for another. Passionately kissing him, until you’re both left breathless.

As soon as you part, you’re pushing him back onto the bed behind him. He falls with a bounce and wide eyes as he stares up at you.

Before he gets a word out, you’re straddling his lap. “You’re always so good to me. Let me be good to you.”

It takes seconds for Chris to start growing beneath your center. You lick your lips and lean forward, diving into a feverish kiss. His hands quickly meet your back, rubbing up and down, and along your sides.

You hum against his lips, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your body. Your hands move from his face to his hair, sharply tugging on it, eliciting a groan from him that makes your heat throb.

You pull away, your breathing shallow as you tug at the hem of his shirt. He leans up to assist you in removing it, before taking your lips in his again. Your hands instantly meet his bare torso, touching along his pecks and running your hands down his abdomen. His skin is hot beneath your fingertips and it stirs something inside of your stomach.

Your tongues dance together, moving in perfect sync with one another. The kiss gets sloppy, saliva coating both of your mouths. Chris is now rock hard beneath you, and you can’t help but grind against him, the two of you moaning into the kiss.

Your hands travel down his stomach, hooking onto his belt. Without parting from him, you undo his buckle and pull the belt from the loops of his jeans.

“God, you’re so hot.” He groans against your mouth.

You grin and push him back, his hair fluffing as his head hits the pillow below him. Your fingers grasp the button on his pants and quickly part it, slowly sliding his zipper down. He bucks his hips into your hands, desperate for more friction.

You lean forward, whispering in his ear, “Easy baby.” You place a kiss on his neck, causing him to shudder. “Promise I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

With one last kiss to his lips, you remove yourself from his lap and kneel beside him. He lifts his hips up to help you pull his pants down, his boxers following shortly after.

His cock stands tall, fully erect. Precum dribbles from the tip as his veins practically throb. Your mouth is watering at the sight. You take him in your palm, gripping softly. He takes in a sharp breath at the feeling, already fisting the sheets.

You stare into his eyes, puckering your lips, and push forward a jewel of saliva. It falls onto his head, trickling down his length, causing his mouth to fall slack as he takes you in.

You never cease to amaze him. Looking so innocent, but about to swallow him whole. He loves everything about you, especially the way you wrap your mouth around him.

Your tongue flicks over the slit of his tip, causing him to let out a small groan. You smile and wrap your lips around his head, sucking softly.

“Fuck..” He whispers, breathlessly.

Letting your mouth salivate even more, you continue teasing him. His breathing is erratic, eyes wide as he watches you. He so badly wants to shove his dick down your throat.

Luckily for him, you stop with the games and take him into your mouth. You force yourself down to the base, your nose pressing into his pelvic bone. He lets out a throaty moan at the feeling of his tip digging into the warm walls of your throat.

You flatten your tongue and begin bobbing your head up and down, working his cock the way he loves. Occasionally humming around him, pulling more moans from his pretty mouth.

“So fucking good.” He groans, bucking into your mouth.

His hands entangle in your hair as you look up at him and give him the slightest nod, keeping your mouth on him. His grip on you tightens, holding you in place as he begins thrusting in and out of your mouth.

The sounds of wet gagging fill the air, topped with his moans and groans. Your eyes prick with tears before they’re soon falling down your cheeks. Your face is flushed and stained with mascara streaks, drool falling down your chin. Chris can’t help but think you look the prettiest you’ve ever looked as he fucks your throat.

Your hand cups his balls, softly massaging them. His moans grow louder from the sensation, his orgasm approaching rather quickly from the combined stimulations.

His thrusts into your mouth grow sloppy and disorganized. His stomach tightens and his arms flex as he’s pushed over the edge. His hands push you into his dick, holding you in place as it bulges through your neck. He tosses his head back with a lewd moan leaving his mouth, his cock simultaneously spilling down your throat. It’s warm as it smoothly coats your throat, almost like honey when you’re sick. You love every bit of it.

Licking around his member, you pull your lips from him, making sure to suck every bit of cum from him. He groans at the sight of you swallowing every drop, and instantly pulls you up to him with a rough grip on your jaw.

He smashed his lips on yours, kissing you deeply and hungrily. Your pussy throbs for more, aching to be filled with his cock. It only takes a few seconds before he’s flipping you over.

He kneels between your thighs and tugs at your shirt, swiftly removing it. You bite your bottom lip in excitement, ready for him to fuck your brains out. His hands are quickly at your shorts, tugging them and your panties off in one motion. Him being eager to be inside you has you clenching around nothing.

His hands grope your bare tits, squeezing them in his palms. Your soft moans only encourage him. One hand goes back and forth between them, tweaking your nipples. His other hand slides between your legs, running through your folds.

He hums, “So wet already. Does sucking my cock turn you on? Hm?”

You only nod, your bottom lip still pressed tightly between your teeth.

“Mm, such a good little slut for me.”

You whine at his words and push your core into his hand, desperate for more. He pulls away from you, his hand suddenly coming down on your pussy in a quick motion, causing you to yelp as your body jerks. Your arousal only leaks more than it was. To which he notices.

He pouts, “Aw, you like that? You want it rough, don’t you?”

Your head quickly shakes up and down, whining as he rubs your clit. “Yes! Please, please. Want you to fuck me dumb.”

It didn’t take much for Chris to become fully erect again. You always do it for him. The second he kissed you after you swallowed him, he was growing again. That’s something you both love. Sometimes, you can go round after round.

He takes hold of his dick and runs it along your pussy. You whimper from the feeling, slightly grinding down into him. After a few teasing touches, his cock his saturated with your juices, making it easier to slide into you.

Your walls stretch around his girth in such a painfully pleasurable way. Your breath is stripped from your lungs as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full. His breath staggers from above you, loving the way you hug him so snugly.

He waits for you to adjust, and once he feels you aren’t so tense, he begins rocking in and out of you. Soft moans leave your lips as your hands run up his arms and grip his biceps. He leans down and presses a few kisses to your hand before picking up the speed.

“You feel so fucking good.” He moans, his strokes deep and hard.

Your mouth falls open, continuous moans emitting from it as your eyes roll back while your head falls to the side. Chris nudges your head to the side and attacks your neck with wet and sloppy open mouthed kisses. His hand suddenly wraps around your throat, applying a great pressure as he pushes himself up. His opposite hand grips your tit before smacking it, causing you to moan and clench around him.

“Look at me when I’m fucking you.” He grits, his hips snapping into yours with a strong force.

You want to look, but you can’t. Your eyes are practically stuck rolled into your head. You can hardly breathe with how hard he’s fucking you. Before you can even try, his hand slaps your face. Not enough to cause damage, but enough to feel the remaining sting. You can’t help but gush around his cock, loving every bit of it all.

You forcefully put your head down, eyes straining to focus on him. And boy are you glad. His hair is slick against his forehead, his skin glistening with a sheen layer of sweat. His cheeks are flushed a rosy pink color, his lips plump from your previous make out. His brows are furrowed in concentration and his entire face is struck with absolute pleasure. He looks like a dream.

You reach your hand out to caress his face and he leans into your touch. You love that he can still be sweet while completely wrecking you.

“Tell me how you feel.” He groans as he fucks in and out of you.

You bring your bottom lip in between your teeth, biting hard to control your moans. Though, it doesn’t work as your jaw drops and loud cries fall from your mouth.

His hand meets your jaw, slightly jerking to snap you out of the blissful trance he’s put you in. His eyes are dark as they bore into you, reiterating with every thrust, “Tell me. How you. Feel.”

Your face contorts in pleasure, sobbing out in between thrusts, “Mm, so good. F-feels sooo good, baby.”

“Such a good girl for me.” He coos, breathlessly.

Your mouth falls open, silent moans leaving it as he fucks into you. You’re on cloud nine. Your body feels on fire as pure bliss floods your veins. You can’t help but repeatedly clench around him as your climax nears. Your face contorts in pleasure, nails digging into his arm, leaving behind crescent shapes in his skin. The knot in your stomach tightens before unexpectedly snapping. You clench around his cock, your juices saturating him as you come undone.

He moans at the feeling, burying his face in your neck as he drops down again, digging into you deeper and deeper. “Gonna fill you up, ma. You’d like that, yeah? Give you my babies? Just wanna have even more to give you, you drive me fucking crazy.”

You soak in his words as you come down from your high, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist, pulling him into you. He smirks at your action, pressing a few sloppy kisses on your lips.

“Yeah, I knew you’d like that.” He moans as his thrusts grow erratic and out of rhythm.

His grip on you tightens, surely leaving behind purple finger shaped bruises. He buries cock into you, loudly groaning as he fills you up. He keeps fucking into you, determined to give you all he’s got. As soon as he can’t take it anymore, he pulls out and collapses beside you.

The two of you lay there, sweaty and panting, trying to recover from your intense orgasms. You both meet eyes, silly grins pulling to both of your faces. Neither of you have ever loved someone more.

Before succumbing to the exhaustion he felt, Chris perks up and leans over to his bedside table. “Oh, I got you one more thing.”

He turns back to you with a small black bag in his hand, offering it to you with a bright smile. You look at him with a pout, before taking the bag.

“When are you gonna stop with this?” You question, cheekily adding, “Aren’t your kids enough?”

He chuckles at you, “Just open the bag.”

So, you do. Inside it is a small black wallet — a wallet that is known for being one of a kind. Its intricate patterns are displayed along the material, the infamous logo engraved in the corner. You open it up to further examine it, your brows furrowing at what’s inside. Upon retrieving it, you look at Chris with a deadpan expression. His black credit card.

He smirks at you, “Yours now baby. No limit, so don’t even bother asking before you swipe it.”

—

a/n : ughh, okay so tbh i rushed the ending bc i ended up losing half of what i had since my cellular device is a literal piece of garbage. anywho, fingers crossed this was enjoyable lmaoo. it’s gonna take a minute for me to get back into things! missed you guys tho <3

taglist : @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie @sturniolowhore @creamoncreamoncream2 @lvrsparadise @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @tillies33ssss @chrissfavwh3re @its-jennarose @sophssturn @defnotayonna @ksskianshd @d0wnbad4chris @braindead4l @avasturn @knowingnothingnoel @luverboychris @remussbitch @stunza @rootbeerworshiper @dracoflaco @strnlsblog @venusbabysblog @domaniquessidehoe @mattslolita @junnniiieee07 @pepsienthusiasts @gamermattsgf @cupidsword @iloveneilperry @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @luul223 @matt444nixi @sturniololol

[youraverageaemondsimp]

“Seven Above.” // Highly Religious Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

DD:DNE ;; Reader discretion is heavily advised.

WARNINGS: noncon & dubcon, forced breeding, forced beliefs, breeding kink, religious themes and psychopathic aemond, dark!aemond, misogynistic views, pressure to fit into the gender norms, forced pregnancy, multiple orgasms, brainwashing(?), mindfucking, + not proofread. PLEASE BE EXTREMELY MINDFUL OF THE CONTENT WARNINGS

Block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to refrain from seeing my dark works.

WC: 2.1k

A/N: fic contains dark content, do not proceed to read if you are easily triggered or find the topics mentioned above triggering. // dividers by @cafekitsune

Aemond was a man of the faith of the seven

He was extremely religious, his mother’s belief in the faith has also made him follow it, though he studied about dragons and old gods of Valyria, he didn't particularly follow them. His need for impressing his own mother, followed by his grandfather made him follow this faith more.

The only problem? He was way too religious and strict, but also hypocritical, he had shamed Aegon for being married to Helaena, but also desired her for himself, he would taunt his nephews for being bastards, yet also had one for himself with a common whore he could not remember the name of. He doesn't acknowledge them as sins however, saying that they are forgiven by the gods as he visits the sept daily.

Alicent did not know what to say, for when she would speak to him about what he's doing and points out his wrongdoings, he simply ignores her and tells her that her job as a woman isn't to judge, but rather understand and nurture, to which she couldn't argue against. So she remained silent.

Everything was going the same as usual, until Aemond was summoned by his grandfather, who had selected a proposal for him.

“The woman is Y/N of the L/N house, a woman loved by many, it will benefit us if we formed an alliance with her family, what do you think of it Aemond?” His grandfather questioned, to which Aemond nodded, saying it isn't too much of a bad match considering they had more to gain than lose, and so the proposal was quickly made.

Aemond only saw you on the day of the wedding, when your house arrived in the throne room, where Aegon sat in the middle, handling the matters. You had not shied away from looking in his eye, to which he was caught off guard by, his mind quickly realising how you are the feisty type.

The ceremony went well, Aemond refused the bedding ceremony and took you to your martial chambers before bedding you. He was gentle of course, he didn't do anything that was too painful.

One thing about Aemond is that, you should never get on his bad side, he is cruel just as he is lenient, you heard of what he had done to his own nephew, to riverrun, to the strong house, leaving absolutely no one alive from that bloodline, no woman or bastard was spared.

The first month flew by quickly, Aemond had gotten to know you better, and he quickly realised that you both don't share the same ideologies on most of the stuff, you even dared to speak back to him, to which he excused you of. Arguments with him on small things have started to happen, his opinion contradicting yours, and his refusal to understand your point of view made you extremely unaccepted, yet you still tried to convey your feelings to him, hoping somewhere deep down in your heart that he'd understand. After all, you had grown to love him a little. He was far better than any husband, most of them didn't even let their wife speak to them.

That was until the topic of children had come when you were dining together.

“Wife, Have you gotten your moon's blood yet?” He asked and you nodded, “Yes, husband, it passed a few days ago and it is regular.” you tell him confused as to why he is asking this, “Are you perhaps barren?” He asks, which makes you feel shocked, and quite offended, “No! Why would you ask such a thing like that?” You ask, eyes slightly wide with shock. “Then why aren't you with child yet?” He questions as if you had any control over anything that happens after intercouse.

“It is only the second month, and besides….” You bite your lip and he raises an eyebrow, “What is it?” You sigh heavily, “I do not know how to ask of you this.” You tell him honestly, “What is it that you need wife? Dresses? Jewellery, do not be shy to ask, I am your husband after all. It is my duty to provide.” He rests his hand on yours, squeezing it in a reassuring way.

“I–” you take a deep breath, “I do not want children, at least, not yet.” you spit out.

It's almost as if everything had frozen in place, the air becomes silent with only the crackling sounds of the fireplace being heard. The tension becomes more imminent in the air as the Aemond continues to remain silent and not do anything, except directly stare at you.

His grip on your hand suddenly tightens, making you wince and you look at him pleadingly, “Have you gone mad?” He stands up, forcing you to stand up as well and you grip his arm tightly, not wanting to fall before balancing yourself, “Please- I am not yet ready, let me prepare myself mentally first.” You beg him and his other hand grabs you by your throat and pulls you closer to him, his grip on your throat begins to tighten, causing you to lose bloodflow to your head.

“I have done nothing except do my duty, be the ideal husband, provide for you, all while allowing you to express yourself yet it seems I was too lenient on you.” He growls, “Because here you are, asking me, to allow you to not have children. It is your sole duty as a wife and a woman, and you could not even provide such a thing?” He let goes of your throat, making you engulf a huge amount of air as you tried to calm down.

“Every woman is the image of the mother, she should have a natural nurturing personality towards anyone, especially to their own children, yet here you are refusing to be a mother to your own child or rather having one of yours, it is disgusting.” He says meanly and you glare at him, “I never said that I never wanted to be a mother, I asked you to give me time to which you are– hmmgh!” You are dragged by Aemond to the bed and thrown on it, you quickly lean on your elbows, fear gnawing in your stomach as you look at Aemond who seemed so furious at you, your heartbeat accelerated as he just stared down at you, like a predator staring at its prey.

“Your sin is forgiven, wife, I remembered how some women think they do not want children until they do, and then they become the best mothers and perfect wives known to man, maybe you are of that same category.” He keeps on talking, and you stare at him, confused and in fear, what in the seven hell was he talking about?

“It is no surprise if that is the case, luckily, there is a cure for that, and that is to get you pregnant, and I shall do just that, simultaneously fulfilling the duties as your husband.” He leans down and caresses your cheek. Your eyes widen when you catch his expression in the illuminating moonlight. He was smiling, yet the smile did not reach his eyes, Your stomach began to churn as goosebumps arose on your skin, he doesn't seem like the man you married anymore.

Before you could make an escape, Aemond pounces you and pushes you down onto the bed, you thrash in his hold trying to push him off but he holds your hands together and pins them up before grabbing your cheeks harshly and spitting on your face, “Behave, I'm treating you.” You began to tremble knowing he had gone completely mad.

“Let go of me! Aemond!” You scream and he pushes his hand over your mouth, “Shut the fuck up.” He tells you before grabbing your dress and tearing it off your body, the bodice coming along with it, causing your tits to spill out. He gropes and squeezes them, “I wonder how nice they'd look when they swell with milk hm?” He coos, before descending his lips onto your nipple, you use your now free hands to push him away but he doesn't budge, you try to pull him by his hair but he bites harshly onto your nipple causing you to let go of his hair in pain, he pulls away and looks at you angrily.

“Behave.” He says sternly and you flinch, never having heard Aemond use that specific tone before, it was extremely scary. “Aemond, please.” You plead him but he doesn't care, simply ripping off the remains and pushing you up the bed and prying your legs open. “You'd look so beautiful, all round with my child in your belly, I pray to the mother to bless us with a child.” He undos his breeches and your eyes widen in horror, knowing what is about to come.

You watched in silence as he lined himself against your entrance, prodding the tip at the very beginning of your hole and began to push inside, you shut your eyes tightly and clenched the sheets below you, a pained cry leaving your mouth at the stretch of your cunt by his cock, unprepared.

He soon fully sheathed himself inside you, and wastes no time before beginning to thrust, whines and gasps leave your mouth at his actions, you grip onto his shoulders as he jerks you up and down, you felt ashamed when it started to begin to feel good, your body in dilemma where you push him or pull him closer.

However that sense of choice is taken away from you when he grabs your hands and pins them above you, all while pistoning his hips into yours, “Seven above, I pray that the mother blesses my dear wife with a child in her womb so she may be cured of her sinfulness, I pray that the maiden guides her into realising how she should truly perform her duty as a woman, and may the crone remove useless thoughts and guide her to the correct path.” He prays closing his eyes and your eyes widen in pure shock, shocked by the fact on how he can pray in a situation like this?

His thrusts feel so sinful, and you're convinced you've lost your mind because of the fact that you are getting pleasure from this, his lips find yours in a passionate kiss as he ends the prayer, kissing your forehead afterwards and pulls back, “You'll make a good mother, I'm sure of it.” He coos in your ear before pressing a kiss to it as well.

You soon began to recognize the familiar feeling of a rope tightening in your abdomen, the telltale sign that your peak was nearing, Aemond's hand groped your tits, pinching your nipples and rubbing his thumb over them, providing you with additional pleasure, and before you know it, you are toppling over the edge as your peak hits you, arching your back and moaning out his name loudly.

He too finishes inside you, filling your hole with his seed, before pulling out, his face hovers over your stomach and you watch as he presses a kiss on the location of where your womb would be located, “May the mother bless us.” He mutters.

You thought that would be the end, yet you were wrong, you gasp when you feel his finger scooping up his seed which leaked out and push it back into you, essentially beginning to finger you, he takes you by surprise again when you feel his warm tongue on your clit, causing your hands to fly out and grip his hair as you breathed heavily.

His tongue and finger worked simultaneously, introducing you to a sensation of a new type of overstimulation, making you peak once again.

Time blurred together and yet Aemond did not stop, you've lost count of how many times he made you peak and how many times he finished inside you, but at the end of it, you surely felt full and fucked out, your mind filled with nothing but the thought of having his children, which he kept muttering over and over again, causing you to pick up on it.

“You'll be a great mother.” He pulls you into his arms as scoot closer, burying your face in his chest, “Yes, Husband, I'll give you as many children you want.” You mutter before finally drifting off to sleep.

Aemond smirks, knowing that he has now achieved his goal, now he can slowly start shifting you into the type of wife he wanted in the first place.

It was no surprise when you found out that you were pregnant with a child, only for you to give birth to triplets.

“A blessing from the mother.” Alicent beamed, yet that sentence only made you flinch.

— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 20 || The Night of Regrets

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, & fluff. (!!Brief drunk sex warning!!)

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——AND OH HOW YOU HATE being alone like this. Especially because it wasn't just a one-day thing.

No, instead, Choso distances himself from you.

It hurts like hell too. His messages get drier, and he has an excuse for every time you try to hang out with him, and your calls go unanswered.

What a sweet form of torture it is to have your crush give you the same treatment you give your blackmailer. At some point, you think you wallow yourself in a self-isolating pit of pity.

Shoko thinks she hears less from you more than ever, Gojo still receives the same treatment as always, Geto tries to comfort you every now and then but it's no use, and Choso continues to set boundaries for you and him.

It gets pretty rough for you mentally after that.

How are you supposed to deal with being stripped of the company of the one man who sought to bring you joy? There were some nights you cried about it and some nights you took out that stupid journal with that stupid list and scribbled out every name there-- only to rewrite it back afterward.

Reluctantly, you ended up telling Gojo that you managed to sleep with Choso, to which he was quick to send you money. Getting paid was nice and all but the money felt meaningless when you no longer had Choso by your side.

What's another six thousand dollars when the guy you like won't even read your texts anymore?

The panging you get in your chest every time you think about it all is dizzying. After all, no matter how you think about it, none of it is your fault.

Sure, you could've had your bedroom door closed that day Gojo walked in but... would such a small change have made any difference to your situation? The man could've still recorded you. Hell, knowing him, he probably would've.

You hate him so much.

You wish you knew how to express just how deep your hate for him goes but it's difficult to do so as he tries to make up for his wrongdoings.

Every notification from Gojo never fails to piss you off but it gets one hundred percent worse when you no longer have Choso around. Not being able to get with the man you like is obviously Gojo's fault so anything from that man reminds you of the situation and you get upset all over again.

This leads to one night full of mistakes, regrets, and... surprises.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

What started your unfortunate night was a final text from Choso that consisted of him explaining that it's hard to talk to you because of how he feels about you.

It was a long paragraph that explained how every time he talks to you, he wants to express his feelings more and more, which ultimately makes it difficult for him to communicate with you because it hurts to know that he's not yours and you're not his. Very explicitly, Choso basically says he doesn't want you to text him anymore.

He wasn't rude about it or anything; even making sure to carefully request such a thing in kind consideration of your feelings. Though, that didn't change how much it hurt.

Choso was your way out, your slim form of freedom. And yet, you lost it.

Where does this lead you? To a bar.

Was heading there the best decision in the world? Probably not. Did you care? Not one bit.

You needed something to relieve your stress, something to take this weight off your shoulders, even if only for one night. So there you sat, swallowing down drink after drink after drink in hopes of washing away all the pain you felt.

Does the sting of liquor down your throat and warmth over your body help you feel any better? For a moment, yes.

It was like all the voices in your head stopped screaming for just a second. No longer were you cursing yourself out for every mistake you've made leading up to now and no longer did you think of all the terrible things happening to you right now.

Instead, you felt just a slither of peace again. The sounds of laughter and soft clicks filled your ears as you calmed your brain, sinking into a tipsy state.

After swishing down your nth drink of the night, you found yourself feeling incredibly good. Almost too good, honestly. Not only was your body warm and your mind at ease but, there was this annoying pulse spurring in between your legs.

The only downfall of you drinking your sorrows away was that you happen to be one of the most unfortunate forms of drunk. Not any angry drunk, silly drunk, or sad drunk but, a horny one. And terribly at that.

The feeling is frustrating actually. It'd been a while since you last went out for a drink and you almost forgot how ridiculously horny you get after some time. The throbbing you feel is so very annoying, especially when all you can do is mentally replay events with Choso.

The man has actually made you squirt more than once. And every time it was because he was giving you head. You recall riding his face once, as per his begging request, and at this moment all you can remember was the way he looked at you and that damn tongue of his lapping at your cunt.

Just thinking about it again makes you dizzy, your stomach churning as you remember it all. His deep guttural groans and pretty whines still echo throughout your mind.

Then there's the way he fucked you-- the feeling of his cock hitting all the right places inside you, making you cry out his name for hours on end, and his praising words... it all haunts your mind.

Shit, now you're really horny. You wish you could call him. If he wasn't upset with you, you'd definitely call him right about now. You're so worked up that you could probably get off on just the sound of his voice right now.

A sigh leaves your lips as you realize you can't even call him. God, you miss him so much and it hasn't even been that long since the last time you saw him.

With a frown on your face, you move to rest your cheek against your knuckles, holding your head up with your hand.

"Y'know, the last thing I expected to find today was a wonderful piece of ass sitting at this bar with a frown on her face," A sudden voice to your left points out.

You physically revolt against the man's words to you. You don't even spare the male a glance in response to his comment, acting as though you didn't hear him.

A sudden god awfully strong collonge seeps into your nose, the smell clearly expensive but unpleasant nonetheless. Then, in your peripherals, you notice this male leaning toward you.

"Oi, I know you heard me." He pesters.

With a groan, you cut your eyes over to him, eyelids rising at the sight. Just your fucking luck, you managed to run into Naoya at the bar and he's absolutely disgusting. Well, at least every time he opens his mouth.

His face on the other hand makes up for it, to some extent. Your gaze is met with sharp brown irises from the male who just spoke.

Your upper lip twitches as you scrunch your face up at him, disgusted by his words to you. "I wasn't aware you were speaking to me." You hum plainly, glancing away from him.

He scoffs, "I cannot stand women who lie."

"That's wonderful but, I don't remember asking." You comment, your tone cold.

The arrogant man tuts, "And she's rude too? Hah, juuust my luck."

Slowly, you force yourself to turn your head to him, your gaze void of emotion. "If all you came over here to do is foolishly run your mouth, I suggest you fuck off because I'm not in the mood." You say to him.

The corner of his lips pulls into a smirk. Damn the way it resembles Toji most weirdly. "What are you in the mood for then, dollface?" Naoya questions.

Ugh, you cringe at his question. He's so very lucky that you have a list to complete because that's the only reason you're tolerating him right now.

"Truthfully? Mindless sex." You blurt out. It's very obvious that you're drunk by this point because the sober version of you would've never uttered such a thing, especially not to this asshole.

A haughty grin spreads across his visibly handsome features and dyed blonde hair with deep dark green roots sways whilst he tilts his head. "Well, then you're in luck. I happen to be an expert at that." Naoya tells you with a wink.

God, you hate everything about his personality already.

"Is that so?" You ask dryly.

"Yeah," He responds, clicking his tongue, "Maybe if you're good enough I'll show you."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, you slide out of the barstool you sat at and-- oh. He's taller than you expected him to be. Even so, you blink away the realization and simply sigh at his words.

"If I'm good enough? Please." You reply, "How about this, since I'm not in the mood to argue with you and make you feel small, I'll give you two options."

His brows push together, "Make me feel small? Excuse me-"

"You can either fuck me or fuck off." You interrupt coldly. Beneath your drunken state, you wish he'd fuck off and magically disappear from the list but unfortunately, that's not going to happen.

Naoya stammers for a moment in reaction to your straightforward words. After a second of collecting himself, he shrugs, "Well..." He chuckles, "How can I say no when you give yourself up to me so easily?"

Another sigh leaves you, "Right..." You say, finally allowing your eyes to roll before you grab a rough hold of his shirt and begin to drag him away from the bar.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The whole thing is a mess.

For your first time having drunk sex in the bathroom at a bar like the true whore you've unwillingly become, it wasn't completely terrible.

Naoya may have a disgustingly offputting way with words but, he's not that bad as fucking you against the wall. Your chest and face are pressed into the cold bathroom wall as the man sloppily rutted into you from behind.

This was most definitely your lowest moment yet. The sex was so... vanilla. Naoya lacked foreplay in every way possible that you're pretty sure he doesn't even know what it is. Half of your moans were fake because there were only a few times when you felt the tip of his cock kiss that sweet spot inside you.

His thrusts were too fast and not in a pleasurable way but in a way that made you want to scoff. Naoya was pale in comparison to the past men you've been with. The only thing saving him was the size of his dick and the fact that you were already horny.

If not for those two factors, this whole thing would've been terrible. He tried dirty talk but it all went through one ear and out the other due to how terrible it was. To make up for that, you can't deny the fact that his grunts and groans turned you on.

"Aagh, fuck." Naoya would groan, his voice near your ear and causing your cunt to flutter around him.

There wasn't much else that he did that fueled your arousal though. You were mainly getting off on the sounds of sex and the few times he thrust into you at the proper angle. That aside, to even come close to an orgasm, you had to imagine you were with someone else.

It's sad but, at least the man's name would be checked off the list after this.

A single orgasm was building up within you the very second you imagined it was Choso with you. You could practically hear the way he'd moan into your ear, begging you to cum around his cock and make a mess of him.

The thought alone made your eyes roll back and you were so close. Then, to the least of your expectations, Naoya selfishly pulled out of you, leaving you high and dry.

Your brows furrowed quickly as you panted against the wall. With a loud grunt that fills the bathroom, Naoya cums embarrassingly onto the floor. You have to bat your eyelashes as you gather what the hell this man just did.

Surely he's not done... right?

To your disappointment, he is. The sound of Naoya fixing himself with not even a word uttered to you can be heard, his hands working his member back into his pants before he moves to wash his hands.

You blink in slow motion, pushing yourself off the wall and standing on legs that are also trying to process what just happened. You'd just been denied an orgasm completely.

You scoff, "Is this a joke...?"

Naoya raises his brows, "Is what a joke? You've fulfilled your purpose, you can go now." He dismisses.

And that does it for you. Annoyed, you move to hike your underwear back up your legs and then tug your dress down into place, feeling absolutely disgusted with what just occurred.

"You..." Another scoff exits your mouth, "You asshole..."

The man chuckles at your claim before heading toward the bathroom door, "I've heard worse." He hums, winking at you, "And hey, for what it's worth, you have good pussy." He... compliments?

You send the man a dumbfounded look. Is he for real right now? Like, is he so fucking for real right now??

"You could probably make lots of money off it, honestly," Naoya comments one last time before opening the door and leaving.

Your skin is crawling with an overwhelming feeling of disgust. Never in your life have you felt so utterly used. This feeling is worse than what Gojo's put you through. You're ashamed you even let that dickhead of a man put his dick inside you.

You shudder at what you just did, a permanent scowl stuck to your face. This is worse than when you thought Choso left you. Hell, you'd prefer that a million times over what that misogynistic fuckface just said and did to you.

After gathering yourself and making sure you don't look like a complete mess, you are about to leave the bathroom when the nasty mess he left on the floor catches your eye. Even drunk, you didn't have it in you to leave such indecency on the floor.

So, you were quick to grab paper towels and clean it up, saving the janitor who'd later have to come in there from doing so.

After that, you toss the paper towel into the trash and stumble out of the bathroom. With everything you just experienced, another round of drinks is screaming your name. There's absolutely no way you're going to allow yourself to sober up after that.

So, you make your way back over to the bar and return to your previous activities, now feeling so unsatisfied and unhappy with everything.

Every drink you swallow down merely provides you with a temporary moment of satisfaction. The second you feel that the excessive drinking isn't working, you feel sad all over again, just like how you did when you first entered the bar.

You wanted to cry and scream at the same time. Your head was spinning and your vision began to blur a little, terrible feelings bubbling up inside you as your regret washed over you faster than the alcohol washed down your throat.

When your eyes grew teary, you were quick to scramble for your phone. If not anything else, the one thing you could use right now is either a good fuck that'd make you stop thinking or, someone who can give you genuine advice so that you don't feel so shitty anymore.

And who can provide either of those things for you? Well, none other than Geto Suguru himself.

Your thumb swiped through your recent calls, hazily spotting his contact and calling him. The phone rings for barely even a second, the call connecting as soon as you lift the device to your ear.

"Hello?" The man's voice rings through your ears, making you smile ever so slightly.

You swallow, "Hi Sugu..." Your words are so obviously slurred to anyone listening.

There's a second of silence before he responds, "Hey, you alright?"

"N-No..." You hum, "Can you uhm... C-Come pick me up?" You suddenly whisper drunkenly.

You hear a sigh then some shuffling, "Where are you?" He asks.

You giggle, "The bar."

There's another pause. Then, you hear him sigh again, "What bar, sweetheart?"

"I'll send you the uhm... the uh..." Your brain suddenly freezes as you search for your words.

He makes up for you, "Address...?"

"Yeah, yes. That." You say quickly.

A slight chuckle is heard over the phone, "Alright, send me the address, sweets. I'll be there soon."

"M'kayy," You hum as you move to send him the address.

You end up simply sending your location but you were too drunk to see the difference, not that it mattered. As the message is sent, an amused chuckle is heard over the phone.

You furrow your brows, bringing the cell back to your ear, "What's so funny?"

"What're you doin' all the way across town, love?" He asks in return, finding it humorous.

You pout, "I dunno, can't remember why I came all the way-," You burp slightly, "Out here."

You can't see it but the male shakes his head, "I see. Are you drunk?" He asks, tone concerned.

You smile, "Mayyybe."

"Maybe? Yes or no, sweetheart."

"Yeah, kinda." You sigh.

He hums and you can hear soft car noises in the background, "And I assume you're alone...?"

"Mhm."

"Why?"

"Didn't wanna bother Shoko with my..." You sigh heavily, "My problems."

"Did something happen?" The man questions, "Why would you go out drinking alone?"

"I dunno Sugu, I just need to drink away my problems, y'know?"

"You could've done that with..." He trails off for a second before finishing, "With me."

You yawn, "Yeah, I could've..." Your words come out lower and the man over the phone can tell you're growing drowsy.

"Are you fallin' asleep on me over there?" He asks, chuckling slightly but clearly nervously.

You move to lay your head down on the bar, just barely holding your hold up against your ear, "Mhm."

The sound of him sighing is heard, "Need you to stay awake for me, sweetheart."

"Sugu..." You mumble tiredly, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

There's a sudden silence over the phone.

A throb pains your head and you wince at the abrupt feeling. "S-Suguru?" You call out, your voice revealing your pained state.

"Y-Yeah?" He responds.

"You didn't answer my question..."

"I know." He states, "Are you okay over there? You sound hurt? What's wrong? Talk to me please." The male rambles, clearly panicked by the sound of your voice.

The most he knows is that you're at some bar alone and drunk so to hear you in pain has his heart worried in more ways than one.

You struggle to respond to him as you steadily slip from consciousness.

"Fuck, c'mon, don't fall asleep on me." He urges, his voice anxious.

"M-Mhm..." You mumble.

"Sweetheart, listen to the sound of my voice okay? I can't have you pass out before I get there."

You groan a little, "...Okay."

He smiles at your reply, "Keep yourself awake by talking to me, tell me about your day."

"M-My day?" You frown, "It was shitty..."

"S'that why you went out for a drink? You had a bad day?" The way his voice has gone all soft makes your heart throb for some reason.

Your eyes get teary all of a sudden, "Y-Yeah."

"Tell me what happened." He requests, "You can do that, right?"

"Uhuh..." You agree.

"Good girl," The male praises, his words giving you encouragement. "C'mon, tell me what happened."

"Well..." You steadily begin to explain the events of your day.

From how normal it was to how Choso's single text ruined your mood and then to the terrible sex you just had, you explain everything over the phone with a slur to your words every now and then. Your explanation comes out slowly since you're fighting sleep but you get through it.

"Then I..." You exhale softly, "Then I called you."

"I see." He hums, "Well, I'm right around the corner so keep your eyes open til' I get there."

"No promises." You say with a chuckle.

"Not funny, sweets. I need you awake." He replies sternly.

You groan, "Whyyy do you keep calling me thaaaat?" You whine.

Again, there's no response to your question.

"I'm gonna hang up on you, Suguru." The chances of you doing so are unlikely but you are seconds away from falling asleep.

"You better not." He says.

"Then tell me why..." Your voice fades out as your eyes shut comfortably. Mentally, you got your question out but realistically, your sentence trailed off.

Distorted sounds of your name being called are heard in your ear but second after second, the sounds fade away and blissful white noise engulfs you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Your sleeping frame is spotted by the man you called as soon as he enters the bar minutes later, his heart rate all over the place. Quick and long strides are made to approach your resting body and hands fly to your face, lifting your head from the cold and dirty bar to get a good look at you.

Even through your sleep, you're pretty sure you hear a familiar voice whisper to you, "What am I gonna do with you?"

Those same hands move from your face and to under your legs and behind your back. Your limp body is lifted from your seat bridal-style and your head relaxes against a lean chest.

The slap of brisk fresh air causes you to stir awake for only a moment. Your eyes flutter open and the smell of cologne is in your nose, the scent almost... nostalgic? It quickly makes you think of Gojo for some strange reason.

"Suguru?" You croak out.

The male holding you is quick to look down at you, his eyes filled with worry. "Sweetheart, you gave me quite a scare," He says softly, his voice making your brows furrow. "Are you okay?"

You groan and rub your temples, feeling the remnants of a pounding headache. "Not... really," You admit, your voice still slurred from the alcohol. "And why do you..."

You end up trailing off as you shift your gaze upwards to the face of the person holding you right now. The question gets stuck in your throat while you eye the man's face.

Soft blue eyes are peering lowly at your drunken expression, a firm pair of slender hands carrying you as if you weigh nothing, ruffled white hair bright enough to blind someone and a face that's all too angelic for the hate you hold for it.

After a gulp, you bat your eyelashes and squint, wondering if you're seeing things. "Gojo?" You whisper softly.

A beautifully broken smile is given to you along with the sound of a shaky yet relieved sigh, "Yeah?"

You pout, "Why are you here...?"

"Well, love," His voice is gentle, "When you call..." He leans just a little bit closer to you, "...I come running."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park, Samuel Seo x Reader: Infidelity

G/N. Angst. Requested by Anon. Masterlists

"I know."

You had wanted your tone to be calm. Even with the shit storm brewing you wanted to be cool and collected. A final fuck you to show that he didn't affect you.

But your voice also betrays you and cracks.

His face is bemused and you want to scream. "What do you know?" He asks.

All pretence is gone. The tears fall and your nose burns.

"You fucking asshole,” you hiss, “I saw you with my own fucking eyes!"

.

.

Gun raises an eyebrow at your words "If you thought I was yours, that is your mistake."

"What?" Your stomach drops, lurches; you think you're going to throw up.

"I am not yours. You do not have any claim to me. What I do is of no concern to you."

"Wh-what?" You repeat like a fool, feeling like you have been doused with a bucket of ice cold water.

Never did you expect this conversation to go the way it is.

You imagined some excuse falling from his mouth, denial, maybe just acceptance for his wrongdoing. For hours you had fretted and waited in anger for his arrival, questions running through your mind - wondering if they had merely kissed or did he fuck them on his bed like he fucks you, do they writhe around in his lap like you do, does he suckle at their neck leaving blatant marks and if their skin bruises as easily as yours does, does he caress their knuckles softly then tenderly kiss each finger as he does you?

Yet you never imagined-

"Since you have such a problem, it seems this arrangement has come to a natural end."

Gun loosens his tie and undoes the top buttons of his shirt. He doesn't look in your direction.

I've opened my life to you, you want to scream. I've spent night after night lying next to you. And you tell me this is a mistake?

None of those words come. All you can bear to do is plead his name as the last shreds of dignity slip through your fingers.

"I'm going for a shower," he strides off and you wonder if he's trying to clean himself of this situation. Of your attachment. Of you.

If you apologised and swallowed your pride and agreed it was just a misunderstanding, would he walk back what he said? If you dropped to your knees and asked him to just pretend this didn't happen, could you go back to how it was?

But-

Could you bring yourself to do that? Could you live with yourself if you did that?

This isn't how it was meant to go at all. This conversation, this entire relationship, this nightmare of an arrangement.

You thought you had saw something in his cold black eyes. The way he calls your name, the way he holds you, his touch trailing your skin, exploring every inch of you. The words he murmurs into your ears, the soft smile he sends your way, the chuckles you pull from him and his fingers intertwined with yours. 

It is your own fault for tangling with Gun Park, a cruel enigma, a heartless monster. For falling into his bed, into his arms. For falling, and having your heart shattered.

You feel your own tears choke you as you're left alone.

Only the pitter-patter of the shower echoing keeps you company as Gun Park washes all traces of you away.

.

.

"And? I don't see what you're so mad about," Samuel sneers.

He dismisses the pang in his chest at seeing your tears and face scrunched up in anger.

Forces his face to remain blank as you snarl and screech, punctuated by heartbreaking sobs between furious words.

I don't need you, he tells himself. I don't want you, he thinks, desperately trying to convince himself.

He had approached, dead eyed, the stranger at the bar. Fell into bed with them with little effort, and ignored the way they felt nothing like you, smelt nothing like you.

How being with them is nothing nothing nothing.

Because having nothing is better than giving something. Better than letting someone have a part of him. It would be a weakness, a vulnerability.

Samuel couldn't do it. He had stood on the precipice, preparing for a leap of faith and found his own fears and shortcomings rooting his ankles to the ground.

You would be- you are a hindrance.

Maybe if he wasn’t already spiralling, he could have gone about this kinder. But each time you looked at him like he was everything and he felt his heart softening, he wanted to die.

Why me? He wants to shake some sense into you. What is wrong with you? Why are you so fucked in the head that you want to stay?

He didn't ask any of this. Instead he sought out another body in a misguided attempt to prove that he's right. That nothing really is better than something, and now he takes your rage and despondency because that, in his warped mind, is better than the alternative.

Eventually, when your voice grows raspy and you have no more tears to shed, you ask Samuel if he has anything, anything at all to say.

He stays tightlipped and silent. He refuses to look at your face, to see the hurt and despair in your eyes.

I don't need you, he tells himself when you hiss fuck you for the final time.

Later, in the dead of night as he lies alone in his bed, your scent lingering around him but your presence, your sweet smile, your tender gaze long gone-

I don't deserve you, he tells himself.

[sugurouge]

— cupidity : luke x f!reader x kieran

contains! food is part in the beginning, deceiving, manipulation, pet names (princess, pretty, little minx), female oral receiving, manhandling, non-established relationships yet they all are aware that reader 'belongs' to sylus — 2.5k words

summary: with the head of onychinus at their feet, only a fool would find fascination with his assistants. but something about their masks and little tricks keeps occupying your mind. what will it be? the cookies you come into the kitchen for, or the twins eager to find a much sweeter treat?

a/n: listen, sylus is a bit more lenient here.... let a girl dream! 🌝

inspired by this playlist on youtube

How did you manage to find residence in the care of Onychinus’ leader, surrounded by men that are all ten times more fascinating than the residents of Linkon? How was it possible to not only feel attracted to Sylus, but his assistants as well? How greedy can one person become, really? 

Both, Luke and Kieran, found a comfortable nest in your mind, as you wondered what lay beneath their crow masks, behind the devilish horns.

But weeks have passed without any improvements. They remain covered up, you remain unwilling to resonate with their boss. By now, you find yourself growing rather shy whenever the double trouble is near. You’re never sure if they even glance your way, yet your eyes remain fixed on anything but them, except for a few stolen glances. How could you not succumb? 

Their witty remarks towards their boss have you chuckling despite the circumstances. You would never admit this publicly, but all three men have become rather hospitable, much nicer than you ever imagined people of their ranks to be. There’s no harm done if your eyes happen to rake over their figures for a second or two.

Or so you think.

Only a fool would believe they haven't noticed your stares. Haven't teased their boss over your eyes glued to them instead of just him. So a bet has been made. Rather uncharacteristic for Sylus, the bet is about you. And if they manage to make you fall for their little trap, they are invited to enjoy a little entrée. 

You’ve been up late as of recently. Horror movie marathons during the spooky season are just your cup of tea, especially alongside those decatend sweets you have been stealing from the kitchen at night. So here you were, up way past your bedtime again, searching once more, for a sweet treat. You wander through the halls on your way to the kitchen, feeling secure that you won’t encounter a soul. Yet, as soon as you find the cookies from this afternoon, cool fingers cover your eyes. The sound of the treat hitting the tray echoes through the spacious room as a gasp escapes your lips.

“So, you’re the cookie monster.” Another finger trails down your spine, causing you to subconsciously stand straighter, bringing you a little closer to the lean torso behind you. “Been wondering who’s been stealing my late-night snacks.” A low, slightly raspy voice whispers beside your ear. You can feel his presence hovering above you, yet his full touch remains elusive. “I—I didn’t know anyone had dibs on leftover cookies…” you attempt to calmly excuse your so-called wrongdoings. “Well, I do. I’m a hungry guy, y’know?”

Instead of replying, your mind begins to piece together the idea that if he is here to grab a snack, he surely mustn’t be wearing his mask. Suddenly, the hand covering your eyes seems easy to grasp as you quickly turn your head to look into Kieran’s face. “Nuh-uh,” he’s too perceptive, as if he can read your thoughts just as well as Sylus. You find yourself caged between the counter and his body, which is now pressed closer to yours, successfully preventing any escape. His fingertips squish your cheeks, forcing you to stay still. “No stealing glances either, princess,” he sounds unbothered, quite unlike his skilled reactions to your little moves a moment ago. Kieran reaches for a cookie to finally indulge in the sweet taste. Between bites, he continues his little ramble. “Can’t unravel that secret over some cookies; we enjoy your attention too much. You look so adorable when you try to stare without being caught. Luke would never forgive me. You’re far too eager to know what we look like…”

“I don’t!” Your protest comes a heartbeat too quickly, too eager in its denial. It prompts another chuckle from Kieran, a sound that seems full of mockery. “You’ve got to get better at lying if you want to survive in the N109 zone. But boss probably told you that already.”

The feeling of defeat steals the bite from your words; at this point, you just want to retreat to your room. “Just eat your stupid cookies and leave,” you demand, making Kieran laugh once more. “Aww, don’t tell me you’re giving up that easily.” At that, he offers you a cookie as well. You can feel his gaze boring into your side profile; from the corner of your eye, you make out the sharp features of his face and fiery eyes. He’s far more tempting than that cookie. “Say please,” his demand is so sweet, so soft, it almost doesn’t sound like the same person.

The shivers running down Kieran’s spine are worth more than the treats before him. The way you make a simple word sound this good is nearly diabolical. “Please,” you manage to choke out, before your teeth graze over the inside of your lip. “See, I’m nice. I know how to share.” The little demon behind you muses.

You bite into it, nibbling on the snack with your eyes glued to the counter. “I’m actually really good at sharing things, y’know? Had to learn that since…”

Your sweet moment gets interrupted in an instant. Like Kieran summoned the other demon with the start of his sentence as a deeper, muffled voice now joins your conversation. “Your amazing big bro always made sure to give you a taste of his treats.” You would have even preferred to have Sylus join this scene rather than Luke, but tonight seems to hold no favours for you. 

“You know that I’m the nice brother. The caring one. Never keeping things for myself.” There’s a double meaning behind Luke’s words. You’re sure of it. Kieran can hear the whimper you try to suppress. He drinks in the defeated expression that spreads over your features. “If you wanted cookies, you could just get some yourself.” The younger twin quips back as the older brother draws closer to you both. Their grips exchange almost seamlessly.

Your focus shifts from the younger to the older twin. Suddenly, your head is being cradled by Luke’s hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “You’re not here for cookies,” you state, and the way you sound so proud has them both laugh again. “I’m not?” Luke challenges, his head tilting sideways to have the little jewellery dangle off his horn. His touch leads down along your jaw to rest on your throat and dance over your exposed collarbones. Your pulse quickens, doesn’t it?

 “But I’m here to grab something sweet as well.” In the next moment, Kieran covers your eyes once more. The sensory deprivation leaves you too aware of the sandwich they have created. You’re caged between the twins, back pressed into Kieran’s chest to leave you open and vulnerable for the surprises of Luke. However, you didn’t anticipate the stillness that welcomes you in the dark. You expected them to overwhelm you the moment they unite, teasing you until you run back to your room all flustered. Instead, you’re starting to feel awkward, too exposed for your own liking, as even Luke’s touch leaves your figure. “Then… then grab it,” you murmur, desperate to break the ice. “Grab what?” they both ask in unison. Luke’s previous statement seems to have already slipped past their memory, you conclude. 

“The swe-” you’re cut off by shock bursting inside your body as a pair of lips encases your own. Hungry, hot, he devours your words and pants until your knees turn weak. Kieran wraps a hand around your waist, holding you a little closer for stability.

“Delicious,” Luke mumbles against your lips, “thanks, princess.” Upon these words, he pulls away and fixes his mask, your dumbfounded reply of “You’re welcome,” nothing but amusing to him. However, as he turns to leave, Kieran is the one to protest. “Hey, what about me? I wanna kiss her too!” he can feel you tighten in his hold, can notice the difference of temperatures from your heated cheeks to his icy fingers as they remain to cover your eyes. 

They both freeze as your pretty voice speaks up, cross your heart and hope to die. “I’ll close my eyes!” 

A “huh” in unison meets your promise. You feel this awful stillness make a reappearance. If only you could guess what they are contemplating. 

“Man, since when did you get so obedient?” Kieran wonders, but Luke leaves you no room for a reply. “Probably since I kissed her so well, right?” Your eyes are finally uncovered, yet it's incredibly difficult to keep them closed as you’re promptly being turned on your heels, face cradled in the already familiar chill of Kieran’s hands to let his lips clash with yours.

His kisses are slower than Luke’s, more passionate. You give back too willingly, kiss him with greed, unrelenting. It makes Luke almost envious. If it wasn’t for the great view of your back, you grace him with. Those tiny shorts doing a poor job at covering your ass. With one glide of his fingers, you feel blunt nails push into the plush tissue while the fabric between your legs is getting dragged higher and higher into your pussy. Kieran feels almost bad for the moans he swallows, yet only a fool would stop kissing you during a time where you feel more bold, more needy. The palm of his hand finds rest on your back, to push your tits against his chest and make you arch further for Luke’s games. For his hands to grab your hips, to pull your ass against his crotch, grinding carelessly against your pulsing cunt. 

They push and pull you back and forth between them, their greedy hands unrelenting in their advances while turning you into a willing mess. 

“Greedy minx,” the older twin murmurs, but he sounds a little too pleased for you to take the insult seriously. you feel deft fingers lace around your throat to draw you away from Kieran’s lips and into Luke’s chest. “I wasn’t done yet!” the younger twin’s protest fills the space between and Luke’s chuckles vibrate against your back. “I thought you’d be dying to eat her out instead of just kissing like teens,” Luke teases his brother. How they manage to have filthy banter like this is an enigma to you. “you’re right,” the younger of the two replies while already going down on his knees in front of you. It’s getting really hard to keep your eyes closed. But you promised. 

His touch makes goosebumps decorate your thighs. How could they not chuckle about your cute reactions? “You want him to eat you out, right, pretty?” Luke mumbles, his chin rests on your shoulders. It’s a comfortable spot to be. “Let him know how much you want his tongue,” he encourages. You signed up for a kiss, now you’re having them undress you in the kitchen. “W-what if anyone walks in?” you try to reason with them, but your panties are discarded regardless of your words. “We'll give them a good show,” Kieran breathes the words against your pussy. You feel the tip of his nose tease the sensitive skin. “Now tell me,” he urges as well, while his fingertips are the only stimulation you receive as they dance along your skin. You hum, what kind of silly reply is that? “You’re smarter than that, kitten.”

They can’t possibly all be here for those damned cookies. 

You struggle in their hold and cannot keep your promise. Your eyes fly open wide, yet you only think about staring towards the door, towards the familiar raspy voice mocking you, like he always does. “Sy-” once again, your words are cut off by the twins. Your moans sound whiny as Luke pinches your nipples through the flimsy fabric of your top while Kieran hoists your legs on his shoulders to devour your pussy.

It’s impossible to keep your eyes from rolling in their sockets, to keep your hips from grinding against Kieran’s face. 

The atmosphere shifts around you three as Sylus draws near. You feel it in the way Luke’s body stiffens, how he releases your breasts from his ministrations. “Boss, I thought you said it’s okay if we play with her once.” 

Yet the nonchalance dripping off Sylus’ words and reactions causes you to look at him once more. His eyes roam your body. Luke subconsciously obliges and reaches for the neckline of your top to expose your tits to dark red eyes as well. “Once, yes,” Sylus speaks too calmly as he watches you get eaten out by one of his assistants.

You quiver so much under Kieran’s tongue, you really like the twins that much better than him?

His brows crease in wonder, lips pursed slightly. He’s clearly not accustomed to women that seem immune to him. “What else did I tell you?” Sylus inquires. You know he’s not talking to you, yet your staring contest addresses every fibre of your body. 

Kieran drags his tongue along your pussy, his teeth graze your clit before toying with the nub, flicking against it until your moans echo through the kitchen. But the way Luke and Sylus continue their conversation makes everything seem awfully miniscule. Large hands cup your tits once more, to play with your nipples and squeeze the fat. “No fucking, no fingers, no stretching her,” you whine upon the list of rules, missing exactly that sort of friction they are prohibited from giving you. “Only allowed to give, not take,” Kieran mumbles into your folds, you feel his cheerful grin too clearly as your thighs press against his cheeks. “That should be enough to kill the curiosity of all three of you,” Sylus concludes, arms now crossed in front of his broad chest. “Isn’t it, kitten?” 

You were already too far gone; you didn’t even register the words until the all too familiar pet name. Once more, do you entertain the three with your surprised “huh?” as your body can only produce moans and whines from the twin’s actions. How can he still expect you to think?

The tap of Sylus’ fingertip against his temple is nothing short of a mockery, a smirk spreading on his face over how amusing you are to him. “Do you want more, sweetie?” Upon his question, he comes closer as well, just like you are close to your orgasm as Kieran seems too caught up in your pussy to stop himself or give you grace. However, to that specific question, you can offer a nod, a quick little nod begging him, them, for more. Sylus watches almost happily as your chest heaves in exhaustion, he notices how wide your pupils have gotten as your little mind is all but consumed by naughty thoughts. “More you shall have, but not from them,” he concludes, the ghost of his touch teasing your cheek while keeping enough distance for Kieran. “Apparently I need to teach a stray kitten her place.”

You come undone, the mental overstimulation even greater than the physical one as your body craves for more, pussy practically begging to be stuffed.

If only you could be able to enjoy the high coursing through your body. But Sylus has other plans as he hoists you over his shoulder with ease, a firm spank to your ass his little welcome present to his misbehaving pet. “I'll give you all night if that is what you need.”

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[razrbladekiss]

TOLERATE IT | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: an argument with joel doesn’t end the way that you think it will.

PAIRING: joel miller x afab!reader. (established relationship)

WARNINGS: very short piece. angsty argument so if u do nawt want to read, then skip <3. i’m in the middle of an argument with my bf and instead of feeding into it, i have immortalized it into my writing 😊 sorry joel for being my proverbial punching bag ! maybe ill make a part two if we ever make up LOL.

Fat tears spill over the swollen apples of your cheeks faster than you can wipe them away with the already much-too-wet sleeve of your sweatshirt, and the room starts to spin.

Your face is damp with salty—bittersweet—upset, and a splitting migraine is beginning to fester away at the inside of your fucking brain.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Joel stands with both hands on his hips while you’re sat cross-legged on the couch, a cushion sat plump in your lap. “Can’t keep cryin’ whenever we have an argument—“

“But you’ve upset me, Joel!” Almost incoherently, you blabber. “You can’t expect me to be cool with the fact that you were flirting with some—some skank last night!”

He drags his left hand over his face. Joel exerts an exasperated sigh. He doesn’t know how many more hours he can argue with you about this, before he says something that he’s going to regret.

“I know. I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have done it—but why the fuck are you still crying?!” Joel barks. “It’s been hours, baby! Can’t we move past this—“

“No! We can’t!” Scraping your hand across your eyes—all tears immediately drying up—you stand to attention. You smack the pillow onto the couch in complete and utter fucking fury. “It’s been four years of us, Joel. Four fucking years that I thought we were happy—but apparnelty you’re not! Are you bored of me, or something?!”

“No!” Defensively, he exclaims. He’s just as annoyed as you, now. Though he has no place to be. “I don’t know what came over me—“

“Four years. Forty-Eight months I’ve spent being by your side—completely faithful—and you think it’s okay to just fuck around on me?!”

“I’m not fuckin’ around on you!” Mood—and tone—matching, he counters. “I love you. But I was hammered last night—“

I was hammered. I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t know what came over me.

BULLSHIT. You’ve heard it all before and, frankly, you’re sick of it. The excuses, the lies…Dating a prolific man-whore isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, actually.

“You need to get your act together.” With a shaking hand, you point at him. Your finger is trembling against his flannel. “If you want this to work, then you’ll stop lying to me—“

“I’m. Not. Fucking. Lying.” Through gritted teeth, he says.

Joel has confessed his wrongdoings, but it’s not enough. To you, he owes you more than just an explanation.

“I don’t believe you.” Devoid of any emotion—any feeling—you state. “You told me that you were going to Tommy’s last night to watch the Cowboys game. But Tommy came here at six o’clock asking for you, and said that they weren’t even fucking set to play! You’re a fucking liar, Joel!”

He backs away with both hands up, completely defeated. You’re tenacious, when you want to be. Sanctimonious. He knows he’ll never win an argument, so he walks away to leave you alone with time to cool off.

But to you—to most people—that’s him giving up.

Joel takes the keys to his truck from the fruit bowl beside the front door, grabs his jacket and unlocks the front door.

He turns to you without even so much as a smile. “Call me when you’re ready to have an adult fucking conversation.”

Joel slams shut the door and you begin to fume all over again. To your left is a picture of the two of you last summer—when you were happy and carefree in Mykonos—and you know that it won’t do anything to help the issue, but you grab it. With a firm hand, you launch it at the door.

Fragments of glass shatter against the door, the floor and fly across the room in every which direction perfectly depicting the current state of your heart after Joel started to break it.

Your eyes are streaming again, hearing his truck peel away from the sidewalk and to god-knows fucking where.

But there’s no use in crying over him anymore. You just need to tolerate it. Tolerate this. Because Joel knows it’ll take more than an “I’m sorry” to really make it up to you.

[sapphicsparkles]

"Bo-Katan isn't mean" Okay because I'm so tired of hearing this:

[/mēn/] adjective: unkind, spiteful, or unfair. vicious or aggressive in behaviour. Not mean? Okay definitely not vicious or aggressive in behavior Like her first appearance where she's part of Death Watch, a terrorist group and slaps Ahsoka's ass without consent to demean her?

Or when she shoves Ahsoka to the ground and *laughs* in a tent where Death Watch (including Bo-Katan) has stolen women from the local village on Carlac and put them into forced servitude?

OR when she helps slaughter the village and burn down said village for asking Death Watch to leave them alone? (that's her on top of the roof)?

Or after when she tried to kill Ahsoka and Lux for trying to help the villagers and leave?

Or when she aided in a plot to cause intentional destruction and fear to manipulate the people of Mandalore into deposing her own sister and overturn Satine's very successful government that ended the clan wars (the Traditionalists then were given the lush moon of Concordia and their own political agency and government in which Pre Vizsla was the governor)? Then forcefully deposed Satine at gunpoint after she had abdicated because of the will of the people who no longer accepted her rule due to the manipulation of public perception by Death Watch.

While Bo-Katan was likely traumatized by the Mandalorian Civil War/Clan Wars at a young age and there's no solid canon evidence but It's widely believed by fans that Bo-Katan was groomed and/or radicalized by Pre into DW from a young age--even if you believe this, IT DOES NOT EXCUSE HER HORRIFIC ACTIONS. None of it justifies her wrongdoing. She still had agency.

Okay so what about unkind or unfair?

Surely that can't apply to her sarcastic comment to Ahsoka when approaching her after she had watched her struggle on Kessel and made no move to assister her, only watching her to use her to fight back against Maul and reclaim Mandalore. While she does respect and befriend Ahsoka by the end of the Siege, she still initially saw her as someone to be used for her agenda.

Or when she uses Obi-Wan's guilt over his relationship with Satine to convince him to aid her forces in retaking Mandalore, which Republic intervention would disintegrate treaties over a hundred years old and start another war on top of the ongoing Clone Wars. Which to her was a legitimate, even desperate method to reclaim her planet from Maul who was only serving his own agenda, but it wasn't a very nice way to do it. In some ways Bo-Katan is justified in how she is mean, but it doesn't make her not mean.

Then there's her anger towards Sabine after she discovering what the Duchess does and that Sabine created it (after hearing how guilt ridden she is and how she already destroyed it.) Was her anger valid, oh yeah. Was it kind and and fair? No.

What about in The Mandalorian you ask? She's not a literal terrorist anymore in the Mandalorian. She's surely not still spiteful or unkind. Definitely not when she insulted Din's religious beliefs and way of life and called the COTW a cult.

Or when she took credit for killing that one guy's brother without any remorse.

Or when she changed the terms of her agreement with Din and forced him into helping her by withholding the agreed upon information after Din upheld his side of the deal. Which was her plan all along. And then on top of that, mocks him by using his own mantra.

And then there's the disdainful opinion she has of Din and her own superiority.

Only agreeing to help Din save his kid when he has something to offer her to serve her own agenda. Which again, valid but not something she does out of the kindness of her heart.

Oh and then she's so direct and straightforward to Boba, not mean at all.

Then in season 3 when Din shows up to help her reclaim Mandalore the first thing she does is take out her anger on him and once again insult his religion/COTW and invalidate his belief that the Mines will restore his place in his religion. All unnecessary.

TO BE EXTREMELY CLEAR: I'm not discrediting Bo-Katan's personal progress into a better person or when she does do good--a hero even by the end of Mando season 3--that's the whole point of a redemption arc, you have to be redeemed from something. And at her core is a commitment to Mandalore, but you can't ignore the cruelty and ego and dare I say it meanness that has gone with it, that's the beauty of her complexity is that she can be a character that grows and evolves and becomes honorable and also still be bitchy. Bo-Katan doesn't have to be morally squeaky clean or a victim to enjoy her character and her sometimes ruthless determination for Mandalore or appreciate her compassionate aspects and letting go of her ego. She's not an easily consumable or morally black and white character. This is in fact, what I love about her.

Thank you @armoralor for assistance with the screenshots from The Mandalorian!

[littlefeltsparrow]

The fact that Rhysand never apologizes for anything he ever does in the text is infuriating and indicative of the preferential treatment Maas gives to her male love interests. She could NEVER have her beloved Rhysand debase himself by reflecting on his actions and making an effort to mend his relationships with others because she’d rather just give him a convenient excuse to absolve him. Having him apologize would be an admission of wrongdoing, and in her eyes Rhysand can do no wrong.

It makes Rhysand incredibly unattractive in my view, he seems incapable of humility and self-reflection to the point that he’ll so casually dismiss the pain and distress of other characters for “the greater good” as if that makes his actions any less harmful. Meanwhile, Maas will GLADLY take any opportunity to make Nesta grovel on her knees for forgiveness and indulge her obsession with “humbling” her to the point of absurdity.

He never even apologized to Feyre for what he inflicted on her UTM. Having good intentions doesn’t magically absolve you of all your crimes and negate their harmful consequences.

[voelene]

There's rather damning evidence that Illario is the one that betrayed Lucanis, both in what we saw of the game and in Tevinter Nights, But also some hope Illario is innocent

- his obvious jealousy and bitterness ("I'm Dellamorte the lesser" in WJ among other clues)

- the fact he's forgotten about by the other crows (in eight little talons, the crows only talk about Lucanis as Caterina's grandson, and Illario is barely hinted at and not named)

- he wants to become First Talon, and point 1 and 2 show he isn't really considered for the position, that Lucanis would be a clear winner (even if he doesn't want it)

- his flimsy excuse not to go with Rook to save Lucanis

- his underwhelming reaction to seeing his cousin for the first time in a year after thinking him dead (not even a hug, really ?)

- Caterina mysterious and very convenient disappearance, just before Lucanis arrives (didn't want to take any chance she would appoint Lucanis first talon upon seeing him, right Illario ?)

BUT

There's also hints that Illario wouldn't hurt his cousin like that

- in WJ, his first argument for becoming first talon instead is that he could protect Lucanis, and allow him to retire. It's not a good point for Lucanis, who lives and breathes crows and has accepted his death, but it shows Illario cares.

- in WJ also, Illario again shows his care while Lucanis is seemingly throwing the contract "your life would be forfeit" he seemed worried about Lucanis there, again not the words and action of someone planning his cousin's murder.

- in the Wake, he seemed genuinely distraught, and acting well while drunk is difficult

- in the game, he says he might have reacted harshly and recklessly if he had known Lucanis was alive, again showing care.

The problem is, Illario is very good with words, and all those exemples are words, not actions. He could just be a master manipulator. I don't want to think that, I hope he truly cares about Lucanis, and I'll resist the idea of Illario being a traitor until I see it on screen.

I hope Caterina is the traitor instead. That she sold Lucanis to Zara, who promised her an enhanced weapon, possessed by a demon and under her absolute orders. It would explain why Lucanis wasn't killed while in the Ossuary, where he seemed to be more trouble than he was worse. He killed so many venatori, he was deemed a failed expert, and yet he was kept alive. Why ? Because he wasn't a failed experiment, he was exactly as Caterina wanted. She just needed him broken enough, then to send someone to retrieve him to get him back to her control.

The only problem with that theory is why Caterina disappeared during the rescue mission. Unless ... Zara didn't agree to have her prison broken into, and she took Caterina because she broke their deal. Or maybe Caterina left on her own, knowing that her 'death' would motivate her grandsons and push them toward killing Zara, therefore erasing evidence of her own wrongdoings.

I know I'm grasping at straws here, that Illario has much more evidence against him, but I'm hoping for a red herring, that they're trying to hide the real evidence.

[blue-mint-winter]

Theory about king Jaehaerys the Conciliator - was he sexually abusing his daughters?

Alright, so I came upon the theory that Jaehaerys was sexually abusing his daughters. After reading the chapter at first I was disbelieving of the theory, because:

just because he was a shitty, patriarchal and neglectful father doesn't mean he was lusting after his own daughters,

the description leads you to believe that he was a great king and very upstanding and moral, he didn't even have any affairs and refused any women even when he and Alysanne were in separation,

GRRM wouldn't do that with a king he's portraying as the greatest and most successful, with the longest and peaceful reign. Jaehaerys couldn't be a great king and a monster at the same time.

...or could he?

However, it's undeniable that the personal stories and tragedies of Jaehaerys' daughters are disturbing. Especially Saera's story. And as I was thinking about it, I realized that all arguments against this theory can be rebuffed.

"GRRM wouldn't do that" - well, he actually did it once, with Craster and his daughters, showing that he doesn't shy away from difficult topics. And he did show a great man with a reputation of being loyal to his dead wife as a flawed, monstrous man - in the person of Tywin Lannister, a successful statesman, administrator and politician. And at the same time he was a monster - destroying the Reynes, ordering the murder of Elia and her children, organizing the Red Wedding. Despite his deeds, Tywin maintained a stellar reputation as an upstanding and moral man, while in private he was employing services of prostitutes.

This leads to the next argument - the book in-universe is a history book. Archmaester Gyldayn uses historical sources on Jaehaerys, mostly from his maesters and Septon Barth. Understandably, these sources would have no idea what and who Jaehaerys would get up to in private. Besides, Jaehaerys had the best PR, certainly not worse than Tywin. His deeds as king, keeping the peace, maintaining good relations with Oldtown, made him beyond reproach. And still, the history couldn't completely whitewash his treatment of his daughters and wife.

How interesting that for all that befell his daughters, Jaehaerys is never blamed. He is their father, innocent of any wrongdoing, but the daughters are: stupid and picky when it comes to suitors (Daella), cruel, nasty and promiscuous (Saera), vain, manipulative, ambitious, reckless (Viserra). They're also 13-16 years old. Basically, the book tries to say they got what they deserved, despite their young age and immaturity being a reasonable excuse for their bad choices. The only ones who might be considered tragic victims of circumstance are Daella and Gael. In all cases, who could expect young teenagers to be fully responsible for themselves? They were underage even by Westerosi standards and they had parents that were responsible for them - Jaehaerys and Alysanne, who both obviously failed as parents to their daughters (and arguably Vaegon too), even if the sources and Gyldayn don't want to admit it (but Alysanne herself clearly did).

I decided to gather all the evidence in text that could support the theory that Jaehaerys was sexually abusing his daughters:

Saera's story is the first clue, especially Jaehaerys' words:

The truth did not come out until a year later, when the former princess was seen in a Lysene pleasure garden, still clad as a novice. Queen Alysanne wept to hear it. “They have made our daughter into a whore,” she said. “She always was,” the king replied.

This gave me a pause. What father, even an angry and disappointed one, would say something like that? And enough time passed that it wasn't said in the heat of the moment and we can't say that he didn't really mean it. Jaehaerys meant it. According to him his daughter, the girl who was his favourite for years, who he bought expensive gifts for whenever she asked, "was always a whore". This sounds like something an abuser would say after his victim got away. Basing his words on what he knows he did to her.

Bonus evidence: in the time before his death Jaehaerys confused his caretaker, 15 years old Alicent for Saera and according to Mushroom she was serving him in a sexual way as well. It's probable an old and ill man would repeat his past behaviours and take advantage of a girl that looks like his past victim and is constantly around him and under his power. Alicent couldn't refuse him and couldn't quit being his caretaker (and obviously couldn't talk or she'd ruin her own future).

2. Second piece of evidence is Daella, Saera's older sister. Jaehaerys for some unknown reason pressured Alysanne to arrange Daella's marriage, despite many factors suggesting that it was unnecessary and she was not ready. The chosen suitor was lord Arryn (36 years old):

Short and balding, with a kettle belly, Arryn was not the man most maidens dream of, Queen Alysanne admitted, “but he is the sort you asked for, a kind and gentle man, and he says that he has loved our little girl for years. I know he will protect her.” To the astonishment of every woman at the court, save mayhaps the queen, Princess Daella chose Lord Rodrik to be her husband. “He seems good and wise, like Father,” she told Queen Alysanne, “and he has four children! I’m to be their new mother!”

What does that mean, "he loved her for years"? Daella was 16, looked small and childlike. Lord Arryn seems like another predator. AND he reminds Daella of Jaehaerys. She literally chose him from among many other, younger and more handsome suitors, because he reminded her of her father. What does that say about Jaehaerys? Did he look at Daella with the same "love" as lord Arryn?

3. Jaehaerys had a type. Jaehaerys refused "lissome maids and handsome widows" which is treated as some proof of loyalty. It can be refuted easily - Jaehaerys had a clear preference and that's Alysanne - a pure-blooded Targaryen. That preference was proved when Rogar's plot to send women to seduce Jaehaerys failed and not even other Valyrians - the Celtigar women - interested him. I doubt any woman offered to him looked like Alysanne or was related to him. Unfortunately, their daughters fulfill the criteria. What's more, he literally had people preach how Targaryens are different from other humans like lions are different from aurochs and therefore Targaryens are allowed to have incestuous relationships. Jaehaerys' refusal of other women makes sense in that context.

4. Another important part of Jaehaerys' characterization was his belief that only a married couple is allowed to have sex and an unmarried woman has to preserve her virginity. And that's how I came to the last bit of evidence - his relationship with Alysanne when they fled to Dragonstone in their youth:

If servants’ tales may be believed, the king and his new queen slept naked and shared many long and lingering kisses, abed and at table and at many other times throughout the day, yet never consummated their union. Another year and a half would pass before Jaehaerys and Alysanne would finally join as man and woman.

Jaehaerys was fine with doing sexual things with his 13 year old sister, as long as he didn't penetrate her and take her virginity. Alysanne is the precedent and quite possibly he later wished to repeat his experience from those early years with girls looking like her, aka their daughters. Or at least Saera. He was very oddly fixated on her virginity.

And the above book passage made something click for me. Young Jaehaerys and Alysanne on Dragonstone with Rogar Baratheon ruling in Kings Landing and plotting against them sounds extremely similar to Viserys and Daenerys in Pentos with Robert Baratheon plotting against them. The parallel is startling. Jaehaerys was smarter than Viserys, but his sexual abuse of his underage sister is clear, even though it's described as "romance" by his maester propagandists. Viserys simply didn't have anyone who would rewrite his disgusting actions towards Dany in a positive light. Also, Alysanne might be just as delusional and brainwashed about the mutual love with her brother as Dany was.

The evidence is scarce and circumstantial, but when put together, it seems to support the theory that Jaehaerys was molesting one or more of his daughters. Which in turn could explain the daughters' behaviours and Alysanne's reactions as attempts to escape from Jaehaerys or find some form of protection from him.

Apart from Daenerys who died when she was 6 the rest of the daughters are:

Alyssa - a tomboy that was clinging to Baelon and then married him (protection by marriage),

Maegelle - pious from a young age, joins the Faith when she's 10 and goes far away from Jaehaerys (protection by Faith),

Daella - Jaehaerys forces an early marriage for her, despite her being fearful of everything, the wedding is a small and quiet ceremony on Dragonstone and there's no bedding ceremony, because "she'd die of shame" (was she possibly not a virgin?), she's taken far away to Eyrie (protection by marriage arranged by Alysanne), then dies in childbirth,

Saera - attention seeking, able to get anything from Jaehaerys, alcoholic at 12, after she's caught having affairs with boys in her friend group her father personally kills her lover and she's forced to watch, she tries to claim Balerion (probably to protect herself from Jaehaerys or run away), is sent away to the Faith, eventually runs away to Essos (rebellion and then seeking various forms of protection),

Viserra - also has a drinking problem, Alysanne arranged her to marry old Lord Manderly, a renowned warrior, then Viserra tries to seduce Baelon to marry her and save her from marriage to an old man (she saw what happened to Daella!), she dies in an accident when she's drunk and racing on a horse (or running away on a horse with her six protectors?),

Gael - most suspicious, all we know she had a stillborn with "a travelling singer" and drowns herself in grief when she's 19. Despite it being a point that she was constantly with Alysanne and even slept in her bed. The whole story with the singer was covered up by a story of her dying of summer fever. The existence of the singer is unconfirmed and doubtful. It's the same as just saying it was an anonymous man. And if Jaehaerys was still on the prowl... he had access to her and Alysanne couldn't personally protect her - she was going deaf and the last time she rode Silverwing was when Gael was 13, then Alysanne broke her hip and started using a cane to walk.

To finish this post, I'm not saying that this is definitely what happened. I merely wanted to gather the evidence for the theory and organize my thoughts. I think the theory isn't completely baseless and explains a lot about the treatment of the daughters by both Jaehaerys and Alysanne as well as some of the daughters' behaviours (and even Alicent if she was molested by him as well).

Probably someone already did a better write up of this theory, but I had fun doing this by myself.

I might write next big theory post about Maegor's conception.

[happy74827]

Oblivious to Love

[Mike Ross x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Finding that your crush was evidently hiding something from you became more nerve-wracking than you thought. But something tells you that maybe it's worth the chase through the office, much to Harvey's displease of course.

WC: 2323

Category: Fluff

I wrote this mostly for my friend (love you @yoursacredqueenmother), but honestly I wrote it for myself too. Plus, there’s barely any Mike Ross fics on this app so I wanted to give some popularity towards him.

Oh how I love writing underrated kings.

『••✎••』

When you first met Mike Ross, he was nothing but a loser, a sorry excuse for a man. From his annoying habits of always being right to his slightly disheveled appearance, the way he always looked like a lost puppy in the morning. Everything about him was just... annoying.

Yet you couldn't help but fall for him. Fall for that crooked smile that seemed to make your knees wobble, those blue eyes that you swore were made out of crystals, and that damn brain of his. God, his brain was impressive. And every time you watched him work, you could only think that this guy was a fucking genius. He was just a brilliant person, and you knew it.

And he knew you knew it. Mike Ross was a very talented man, more talented than you. The way he talked, his words seemed to flow out of his mouth as if they were enchanted, and with one single phrase, he could convince you of the existence of unicorns. He had always had this way about him. It was like he could get anything he wanted by simply giving a smile. And even though Mike didn't know this about himself, he was able to make you melt with just a few words.

And after getting to know Mike better, you found that he was an amazing person. Sure, he could be a bit cocky at times, but his cockiness always came with the fact that he knew he was doing something right, and he was willing to admit to his wrongdoings when it was necessary. That's something that not everyone is willing to do, and you found that really impressive. He also had the most caring eyes you had ever seen, always willing to take care of anyone who needed help. Mike was a great guy, one of the best you knew. And when it came to his intelligence, you had no doubt that he was the smartest guy in the world.

But you still couldn't help but think, what was a guy like Mike doing with a girl like you?

You were nothing compared to him. He was intelligent, quick-witted, and attractive to boot. He was like the epitome of a perfect human, while you... you were just another boring girl who happened to be lucky enough to be in his life. You could never compare to someone like him, someone as amazing as Mike Ross.

It wasn't long before your feelings for him began to show, and when they did, it was inevitable that Mike would find out. It seemed that he could read you like a book, and you had no idea what gave away your feelings, but you had a sense that Mike had caught on early. Of course, it was only speculation, but the evidence was… well, there. He came up to you more, wanting to hang out with you, and his words to you were even sweeter. You were too embarrassed to think straight, and you had no idea what to do with yourself.

"You alright?"

It was lunchtime when Mike decided to show up, his blue eyes glancing down at you. His question took you by surprise, and you gave a quick nod in response.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm alright," you said, looking down at your salad. "I'm just a bit tired today, that's all."

He seemed to buy your answer because he didn't push any further on the subject. He just continued on as if nothing had happened. But something did happen, and you could tell that Mike was avoiding your eyes. You noticed this right away because he would never look away from you for so long, and you began to grow suspicious. What did Mike know?

The first person you decided to chase down and confront was Donna, the woman who knew anything and everything. She was like the goddess of knowledge, and if there was anyone who knew what was going on, it was her.

"Alright, what's up with Mike?" You questioned, waiting for an answer.

Donna looked up, giving you a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that, D. You know exactly what I mean. Mike is being… I don’t know, he's being strange. I know you know why."

The older woman gave a sigh, taking a bite from her salad. "I don't know, he hasn't told me anything," she replied. "But are you sure he’s the one being weird? Because, you know, you're not exactly normal yourself."

"I am exactly normal!"

"You're so not normal."

"And how would you know that? Have you ever seen me? I look normal to the naked eye!"

Donna only smirked in response.

"You're useless," you groaned, turning away from the woman and sitting down at the table. Just as you did so, Harvey decided to walk past on the way to Jessica’s office. Of course, Harvey. Mike and him are practically glued at the hip.

He must know something.

"Harvey!" You shouted, causing him to halt in his tracks. The man turned around, his face contorting into one of confusion when he saw you. The confusion only stayed for a minute, though, because the second you went to open your mouth, he shut you down.

“Nope. I’m not doing this," Harvey said, pointing to the door. "Not this time."

"Doing what?" You asked, following behind him as he continued on his way. "You didn’t even know what I was going to ask.”

"Doesn't matter. I’m not getting involved with you and Mike."

"How’d you…?" You stopped yourself before you could finish your sentence, watching Harvey continuing on his way to Jessica's office, ignoring your complete presence.

Why was everyone avoiding you?

"Alright, what the hell?" You said, stomping back towards Donna. She gave a look of concern as if she was expecting you to explode any second now. “What’s going on? Please, tell me. Please don’t make me go to Louis. If I have to hear him talk about going mudding one more time, I might just snap. I swear to God-"

"Alright, alright," Donna interrupted, holding up her hands in defense. "But just remember, you asked for this."

"Just tell me, Donna. Tell me now before I die of curiosity!"

Donna sighed, rolling her eyes and looking you dead in the eyes. "Mike knows.”

"Knows what?"

"He knows.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Donna must’ve immediately picked up on your panicked state because she was suddenly in front of you, grabbing onto your shoulders and trying to ground you as your eyes widened in sheer panic.

"Calm down," she whispered, shaking you slightly. "Just breathe."

"Is this bad? I think this is bad. This is bad. I’m going to die of embarrassment now. I won’t even be able to look at him ever again-"

"Stop." Donna slapped you in the face, her actions taking you by surprise. "Look, I'm going to tell you what I told him, alright?"

You only gave a small nod in response.

"After Mike asked—”

“He asked?!”

“Shush! After Mike asked if you were in love with him, I asked if he was in love with you."

"And?"

"He wouldn’t say. So, I asked him if he thought he was, and he didn't give me an answer.”

You blinked at her. "Okay. I don't think this is helping."

"You don’t understand. That’s a good sign. When you want to tell someone how you feel, but you don't want to give them the satisfaction of saying it out loud, you refuse to answer a question when someone asks if you feel that way about them. It means they really care, you know? Mike doesn't want to risk telling you how he feels, but he doesn't want to lie to me."

You stared at her, unable to respond. Donna just gave a sigh and patted you on the head.

"Look, all I'm trying to tell you is that this might work out. Just give it time."

You, in fact, didn’t give it time. You practically went insane to the point of going back to Harvey to question him again. This time, he gave you an answer.

"Does Mike like me?”

He gave you a confused look as if he were expecting you to explain what the hell you were talking about.

"…I’m going to pretend like you asked a real question," Harvey said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know if you've forgotten, but this is a law firm. Not a damn soap opera."

"I need to know!" You pressed. “I know Mike said something to you. That man cannot keep anything secret. It's just not possible."

"Dammit," Harvey muttered, rubbing his temples. "This isn't something I want to deal with right now, I’m busy-"

"Harvey, it’s a simple yes or no. I will literally leave you alone for a whole week if you tell me. I promise I won't bug you at all; I swear on my life. So, please. Just tell me."

Harvey sighed, putting down his pen. There was a part of you that felt bad about interrupting his work, but this was too important just to ignore. You had to know.

"Mike likes you, kid. Now get the hell out of my office," Harvey said, waving you off as you left, feeling a huge weight off your shoulders.

Oh, man. Oh boy. This was actually happening. Mike Ross, the smartest man in the world, liked you. The smile that surfaced on your face was involuntary, and you couldn’t help but put it on full display as you walked past Donna, who raised an eyebrow.

"You need to talk to him," Donna said. "Or else you'll never stop smiling like an idiot."

That's what you did.

The second you saw Mike, you rushed to his office, where you could see that he was alone. You entered quietly, making sure to close the door behind you as Mike looked up, his blue eyes locking with yours.

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat as you made your way towards him. “I was just—”

“Harvey said you liked me.” You blurted, causing Mike to freeze. You didn’t mean to just come out and say it like that, but you couldn't stop yourself from doing so. He looked a bit shocked, but his expression quickly changed to one of curiosity, his eyebrows arching.

Then, he did something you hadn't been expecting at all. He gave you a smile. Mike Ross, the man you had been pining over for years, gave you a smile that made your knees wobble, and you felt your stomach tighten.

"Funny enough,” he said, leaning back into his chair, still wearing that grin on his face. "Donna said the exact same thing about you.”

You couldn’t help the soft laughter that escaped you because it was funny. Donna and Harvey. Everyone seemed to know except you two, and that was almost humorous. But it wasn't enough to stop your nerves because you still wanted to talk to him.

"Listen, Mike-"

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head. "Not until you listen."

He paused for a moment, waiting until you were fully in attention before continuing.

"You don't need to say anything," Mike said, his voice taking on a serious tone that surprised you. "I’m smart enough to know how you feel about me. I knew it as soon as I saw the way you looked at me. Sorry that it took me so long to say something, but I wanted to make sure it was real, you know? Because you can't just trust someone based on looks, not with stuff like this. You know?"

“Mike,”

“I’m rambling, aren’t I? I’m totally rambling, aren't I?"

"Mike-"

"I feel really awkward right now," he said, a nervous chuckle escaping him. "Because this is normally the part where you would just kiss me, but you haven't done anything of the sort."

"You want me to kiss you?” You asked, your heart pounding so loud that you could feel it in your throat. “That’s a little bold, don't you think?"

Mike leaned forward, giving you a look that caused your heart to practically leap out of your chest. His eyes seemed to be sparkling as if he were asking a question you already knew the answer to.

"Since when has anyone said I was shy?"

You let out a small gasp, almost like a squeak, as he grabbed onto your hand and pulled you closer to him. The chair Mike was in was not made to sit two people, and you had to squeeze in between him, your bodies pressing against each other.

He leaned into you, his nose brushing against yours as he closed his eyes, giving you a second to do the same before he kissed you. It was soft and warm, and the second his lips touched yours, you were gone. His hands came up to your face, and you could feel his fingers caress your cheeks as you pressed into his kiss.

The first time you kissed someone, you knew it was special. Something about it caused butterflies to swarm in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to continue this for the rest of your life. But as you kissed Mike Ross, you knew that it was even better.

His kiss was passionate and full of longing as if he were kissing you for the first time. It was a feeling you never experienced before, and it was amazing.

When the two of you finally parted, your cheeks flushed and your lips slightly swollen; you couldn't help the giggle that escaped you, watching Mike as his face turned slightly pink.

"That was… wow.” Mike bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his smile. "I never knew."

"Never knew what?”

Mike looked up, giving you that crooked grin that you adored so much. "That a kiss from you can make my heart stop beating."

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

[psychotrenny]

Pretending like any communist country had no faults is just as bad as Europeans acting like their country has no faults, you can only battle corruption by calling it out and I have a feeling that if Israel was somehow communist you'd be defending them and somehow excusing what they're doing to the Palestinians much like how you're excusing what China is doing to the Uyghurs

Thank you for providing an example of exactly what I was talking about. Now China isn't perfect (and I never claimed it was) and if you want to criticise it's mistakes and wrongdoings there's plenty to talk about both past and present. Just off the top of my head you could talk about the reflexive anti-Sovietism leading to attacks on fellow revolutionaries (i.e. Vietnam) and support for misguided or even counter-revolutionary movements (CPK in Cambodia, UNITA in Angola) or the excessive concessions to foreign capitalists (i.e. Foxconn) in the name of economic development that allowed these firms to exploit and abuse Chinese citizens. But what you can't talk about is the "Uyghur Genocide" because it's not a fucking thing that's happening. It's completely fucking made up by reactionary dipshits as a part of the USA's strategic "pivot to Asia". Like it's not as though China has perfectly handled the issue of Islamic Fundamentalist violence in the territory (i.e. forbidding certain items of clothing is clearly an unnecessarily oppressive and likely counter-productive tactic) but their focus on countering terrorism by changing the material conditions that led to radicalisation in the first place put the Chinese above any part of "The West" in this regard. And whatever you want to say about China's policy towards Xinjiang it's sure as fuck not "genocide"

Anyway plenty of people do in fact claim that Israel is some sort of communist and on this blog I have always expressed the view that this position is complete bullshit; "Labour Zionism" is a fucking joke of an ideology that only functions as a tool for class collaborations with the Settler Bourgeoisie granting their Proletariat concessions in exchange for support in the super-exploitation of the Indigenous working class. Like you can't just say "Oh I'd bet you'd fall for this" when I very clearly haven't

My point isn't that "any communist country has no faults". My point is that Left Anti-Communists don't want a good faith discussion of these faults as is proven by their obsession with faults that aren't even fucking real. Just like you are doing right now in fact. If you want to criticise people for being too soft on communist regimes then please do so over things that are actually happening and not completely fabricated by the most rabidly reactionary US propagandists. Thanks 👍