#i mean that i started this on the night before i had to send things to get printed

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 1)

Sequel to But you're my stepmom!

Picks up a few months later after your dad and Agatha get divorced and you've started college

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: fingering, mommy kink, slight angst

Fuck. You do not want to do this. 

It’s a Saturday night and you’re here. You should’ve said you had anywhere else to be, but instead, your car almost gets hit as you turn the corner in possibly the narrowest parking garage you’ve ever been in. It makes you swear and you stomp on the brakes so quickly you think you might have a bruise from the seatbelt. 

But luckily, you find a spot on the first floor and squeeze between two other cars, muttering a silent prayer that you don’t scrape against them.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans as you get out and walk into the lobby of the apartment complex. 

It’s nice, although you hate to admit it. You would surely not mind spending more time here if it didn’t mean having to see—

“Hey, sweet pea!” 

Him. You look to your right and plaster on a fake smile when you see your father standing there, slipping his phone into his pocket. 

“Hey,” you say softly, awkwardly patting his back with a hand as he embraces you. 

He had been asking to get dinner with you at least once a week for the past few months since he and Agatha got divorced. You’ve always found an excuse to get out of it — you had homework, you had exams, you had to work over the summer and you were so tired — but now that it’s your first weekend in college and he knows that you don’t have anything going on, he insisted. 

Plus your mom had sort of asked for you to go at least once. Your dad has been sending you updates about his apartment search and random internet posts that he found funny, and having lived at home all summer, you’ve kept your mom in the loop. She is still obsessed with him, always finding ways to bring him up in conversation, and you wish you were brave enough to tell her to just move on. She was absolutely ecstatic when you broke the news about him and Agatha and she’s been pressing you for updates ever since. 

Part of the reason she wanted you to go see him was to scope out his new place and see if there was any sign of a new woman. There was still no sign about the lady he was having an affair with, so you weren’t sure if things had ended. 

And when he moved out the first time, he took your mom’s can opener and she still won’t let it go. Before you left, she texted you that if you saw it, you should steal it back. 

After the divorce went through, your dad had decided to sell the house and look for an apartment a little closer to his work, and he’s lived in this place for about a month now. 

“How are you? How’s it going?” he asks as he leads you to the elevator. He presses his fob to the button inside and then floor six. You remember him being so consumed with having one of the top floors, like that would make him seem more important. 

You shrug and pick at the peeling skin on your fingers. It’s a bad habit — one of your many. “Pretty good. Syllabus week has been a breeze. Made some new friends.”

“Classes seem like they’ll be fun?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I hope so.” 

And then a tense silence falls over the both of you. You haven’t actually seen him since your graduation, which was a whole other level of awkward with your mom there too, and you both know that the two affairs and two divorces has put a strain on your relationship.

It does hurt a little. You wish there was a way you could reach over the cold gap between you and go back to how things were when you were a kid, when you actually liked being around him. 

But too much has happened. 

“Well, I’m really glad you were able to come down for dinner,” he says and you smile tightly. “I can’t wait to show you the place and then we can get whatever you want to eat.” 

The elevator dings and you follow him to an apartment a few doors down and he unlocks the door and lets you go first. 

The floors are a laminate gray, the counters in the kitchen marble white with black pendant lights over the peninsula. The refrigerator is stainless steel and there’s a completely stocked wine cooler fridge built into the cabinets next to the stove. You walk past the kitchen into the living room where the couches from his and Agatha’s house are set up around an entertainment center with a fireplace and a blue rug under the coffee table. 

“What do you think?” he asks, stepping next to you and putting an arm around your shoulders to bring you in close to him. 

You take his fancy bachelor pad in again. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. Maybe just pizza for dinner? We can order and watch a show or something?”

Staying in and having the television as a buffer is a much better plan than going out and having to make small talk that will end up with him on his phone anyway. He agrees and calls to order the pizza while you perch on the couch and scroll on your phone. You already have a text from your mom telling you to call her when you’re done and your chest tightens at the thought of all the shit she’s going to say. It’s fucking exhausting still being in the middle of this — you really thought it would get better, especially now that you’re in college. And yet, here you are. 

“So…” your dad starts, plopping down next to you with a groan once he gets off the phone. He grabs the remote and turns the TV on. “You like your roommate?”

Your roommate, Alice Wu, is a sweet girl from out-of-state. You think that you and her will get along just fine and you’ve already agreed on all the rules of cleaning and having friends over. The first week has gone well and you’ve gotten close. “She’s cool. I think she and I will be good friends.” 

He nods and turns on a show you watched awhile and the two of you sit in awkward silence until the pizza guy rings from downstairs. You excuse yourself to the bathroom after your dad rings him in. 

The bathroom is through the bedroom and you take careful note of the sheets still strewn all over the bed and the two pillows at the top. One nightstand is cluttered with a phone charger, earplugs, a lamp, and a picture of you on your graduation day in a silver frame. It tugs at your heart and you instantly look away, not wanting to feel any more nostalgia. 

However, on the other nightstand, there’s just a matching lamp. No hair tie, no other chargers or personal belongings. 

But that stuff is easily hidden, so you go into the bathroom. One toothbrush, one retainer case, one razor. You can’t tell if you’re disappointed or glad. 

At least you won’t have to listen to your mom talk endlessly about a new woman. 

Your dad already has a plate with two slices on it for you sitting in your spot on the couch and you dig into it, suddenly famished. The atmosphere does warm up over time, and it’s no longer uncomfortable silence and you do end up talking a bit about his work and more about your school while the TV plays.

He doesn’t bring up your mom or Agatha at all, and neither do you. In a way, it’s nice to be removed from them for a few hours. Your dad has been villainized by both of them — and obviously he fucked up — but he is still your dad, despite your complicated feelings toward him. 

After a few episodes of the show, you shift to get up, grabbing your plate. “You’re leaving already?” he asks and checks his watch.

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I should really be getting back to the dorms,” you say, trying to sound apologetic. Even if the bubble has been nice, you have somewhere you need to be. 

It’s hard for your dad to hide his disappointment, but he gets it and grabs his keys to walk you down to your car. 

“How’s, uh, how’s your mom doing?” he asks. Still putting me in the middle of all the imaginary drama she’s creating with you is what you want to say. But you know that he’ll call her out for it and you’d have to deal. 

“She’s pretty good. Work’s been keeping her busy.” A safe answer. A true answer. 

“Good,” he says and shoves his hands into his pockets and you know what’s coming next. “And Agatha? Have you seen her at all?” 

Imagines of her hot body on yours flash through your mind. Her rosy nipples, her pale stomach, the heat that swallows up her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen her around. She’s doing all right, too, I think.”

Your dad nods and stops at your car. “Well, I had a great time with you,” he says and holds his arms out for a hug. You mutter something in agreement and give him an embrace with two pats — the way you’ve done it since you were a kid. “Let’s do it again soon.”

He tells you that he loves you and after you say it back, you get into your car and he watches you as you drive away. 

Begrudgingly, you call your mom and put her on speaker and not even a second later, her voice fills your car. 

“How was it? Did you see anything? Is there another woman? Did you find my can opener?” she asks all in one breath and you take a silent, deep breath. 

You can’t wait to be home. “It was a pretty nice place actually.” Your mom snorts. “There wasn’t any sign of someone else there and I didn’t have time to look around. We just watched a show and ate pizza.” 

She makes a sound. “Wow, father of the year. Maybe he cleaned up the place before you came over.” You hum noncommittally. “What are you doing tomorrow? Want to come over? I’ll take you grocery shopping.” 

“Yeah, let me just check my schedule. Alice and I might be doing something, but I’d love to go there for a bit. Especially for groceries,” you tease and she laughs. 

“I bet your father didn’t even offer to do that,” she says smugly and your face falls. Sometimes you wonder if she does half the things that she does for you just to one-up him. 

“Okay, well I’m almost back now, so I’ll let you know when I’m coming over tomorrow,” you tell her, eager to wrap it up, and about to turn in. “Love you.” You hang up before she’s even done saying it back. 

Once you park, you text your roommate saying that you won’t be back for the night — staying with family — and walk up to the apartment side door, letting yourself in with the fob on your key ring. 

Agatha’s apartment complex is smaller than your dad’s, but just as nice, and you prefer it a lot more. 

After the divorce, she stayed in a hotel for about a week before signing a lease on a place about ten minutes away from where the house used to be. You had helped her pick out the furniture and spent more time here than at your mom’s house the last couple months of school and she gave you a key to it the day she moved in. 

It got harder over the summer to hang out with her, as you worked at an ice cream shop in the afternoons into the evenings and she was working her normal nine to five, but you made it work. 

Things are really good between the two of you. There isn’t exactly a label on it, per se, but you both know that it’s a relationship. And without your dad in the picture and with her not being your stepmom anymore, there isn’t as much of a need to keep sneaking around — so when she puts an arm around you while you’re walking down the street and kisses your cheek when you say something cute and ghosts her pinky against yours, it’s okay. 

You know things might change a little with you in college now, but you’re ready for it. And if you spend more nights at her place than at your dorm, so be it. It’s not like anyone’s going to know, and Alice will just think you’re staying with family. 

Unlocking the door, you can practically feel the tension seeping away from your body. Agatha makes everything feel better. Even the house you grew up in, the one your mom still lives in, doesn’t feel as home as this does. 

You don’t see her when you first walk in and you walk into the living room to see her typing something on her computer, brows furrowed, and you can just make out the glint of a document through the reflection of her glasses. 

“Hey, you,” you greet, kicking off your shoes. She startles and looks up before slamming her laptop shut and smiling. 

“Hey, honey,” she says and pats the spot next to her while she leans forward to place her computer on the coffee table. “How was it?” 

Agatha had emphatically listened to your incessant complaining about having to get dinner with your dad, but in the end she had also pushed you to go. You groan and flop onto the couch, situating yourself so that your head is in her lap and you’re looking up at her. “It wasn’t that bad,” you admit and she smirks. “Don’t even think about saying ‘I told you so’. I will leave.” 

She tosses her head back with a laugh and you play with the strands of hair that’s falling over her shoulder and teasing your face. “I would never, darling. But I’m glad it wasn’t bad. How is he?” 

Your nose wrinkles. “Can we not talk about my dad? Although, I was just thinking about how much of a reward I deserve for going.” 

“Oh, you think you deserve a reward, do you?” she ribs lightly, raising an eyebrow and poking you in the stomach. You giggle and twist away from her finger before sticking out your bottom lip as pitiful as you can and giving her doe eyes, nodding your head. She rolls her eyes fondly. “What were you thinking, honey?” 

You shrug like you’re just now beginning to think about it. “Well, mommy,” you say, a thrill running through you at her sharp gasp. “I think since I was such a good girl, you should give me an orgasm.” 

“Oh, just one?” she asks playfully, and you surge up out of her lap, turn over onto your knees to face her, and pull her in for a kiss. Your lips move against each other with familiar ease, her tongue licking hotly into your mouth and you moan — her hands slide up under your shirt and rest on your bare skin before you reach down and take it off. 

“As many as you’ll give me, mommy,” you pant, and she grins before starting to suck open-mouthed bites onto your chest. You’re wearing green lingerie but she barely even looks at it before unclasping your bra from behind and tearing it off, throwing it somewhere on the floor. 

She swirls her tongue around your nipple before suckling hard and you whimper, holding her head right against you. It feels like there’s a wire running straight from your boob to your cunt and you quickly feel yourself becoming soaked. Agatha switches to the other one and soon your entire chest is sticky with her saliva and you’ve moved onto her lap, squirming. 

Her teeth nip at the underside of your breasts and you can’t take it anymore. “Mommy, please,” you beg, grabbing her hand and leading it to the waistband of your jeans. Her fingers rest there while you quickly unbutton and unzip and then you shove her into your pants, your hand circled around her wrist to just feel her. 

Agatha chuckles throatily and moves her fingers experimentally against you while you try to grind down for some stimulation. You suddenly feel so empty, a molten heat between your legs, and Agatha crashes her lips back onto yours. She sucks on your tongue and tugs on your bottom lip as she finally presses against your clit and your hips jerk. “So wet for mommy, aren’t you?” she huffs and you nod and try to move against her harder. 

When she finally pushes your underwear to the side and runs her fingers through your folds, you keen and bury a hand into her hair, face dropping down into her neck. She sharply gasps when you start breathing heavily against her skin, content to just keep your lips planted against her throat. 

She slides a finger into you and your walls clench around her, trying to draw her even more in. Each time she fucks you, it feels like the first time — the same energy is there, the same electricity. But at the same time, she knows exactly what you need, maybe even more than you do. 

Her thrusts begin to pick up and heat is rising through your body and you can see little indents in Agatha’s skin from where your teeth have slightly sunk in. 

“Mommy, mommy — please, I need more,” you whine and she obliges by pushing another finger into you and curling them just right. A high-pitched sound leaves your mouth and you start riding her fingers the best you can, rolling your hips to match her and get her even deeper. You’re clenching furiously around her as sparks begin to fly in your lower stomach and you can feel the beginning tendrils of your orgasm start to build. 

Agatha’s thumb circles around your clit without actually touching it. “God, sweetheart, you look so hot right now, taking my fingers like such a good girl. You feel so good, too. Never wanna leave you,” she babbles, making you convulse even tighter. There’s a slight pink tint to her cheeks and her breathing has picked up and you know she’s affected too. Her fingers are moving faster and she pauses for just a moment, making you whimper, before she stretches you out with a third. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swear, your walls adjusting, and the slight burn only adds to the immense pleasure you’re feeling. “Fuck, fuck.” Your head is spinning, completely drunk with her and her perfume that’s been invading your nostrils the whole time, and you can’t even form a single thought. 

She presses harder on your clit and with the hand that’s not currently inside you, grips your hair and pulls you away from her neck. You can see red blotches staining her skin and the thought of her wearing your marks around gets you even closer. “Look at me,” she grunts, her thrusts becoming more sporadic and you stare right into her dark blue eyes with your pleading wide ones. Your breaths intermix and she looks like she might also cum just from this. 

Agatha lets out a strangled gasp when her gaze flickers from your eyes to your swollen lips to your breasts that are bouncing with your movements in her lap. 

“Mommy, I need — right there —” You can’t even string together a coherent thought and she scissors her fingers inside you, the pressure making you see stars. 

She looks you up and down again, drinking you in like she might never get enough, and her chest heaves with each breath she takes. “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” she groans and your head falls back as you keep riding her. “I need you to cum for me, okay? Cum for mommy.” 

“Mommy, fuck, I’m gonna — fuck I love you,” you groan, not even realizing the words slipping out of your mouth, the words neither of you have ever said before, before it’s too late and your orgasm explodes through your body in a way it never has before. You feel it in every crack and crevice inside you and she keeps fucking you just as hard while rubbing your clit and it quickly becomes too much, tears springing into your eyes. 

Agatha’s fingers finally slow down and she coos sweet nothings in your ear and you wonder if she even heard you. It’s been a few months since you’ve been together, but neither of you has really acknowledged the depth between you. 

And you just did, in the middle of sex. 

“You okay?” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek and you nod before she pulls out of you and you wince at the sudden emptiness. You fall back out of her lap onto the couch. She must not have heard it. 

There’s a slight gnawing feeling that begins to grow in your stomach — if you said it for real, in a moment that couldn’t just be blamed on a dopamine rush, would she say it back? 

Does she feel the same? 

Agatha kisses you before sticking her three fingers into your mouth so you can clean them up. “Good girl,” she purrs in a low voice. “Was that a good enough reward?” 

You’re still a little out of it, but you nod dazedly. “Yeah,” you say softly and she gets off the couch and walks over to the fridge to get you a glass of water. “My mom wants me to go hang out with her tomorrow. What are you doing at night? Can I come over after?” 

She pauses for a fraction of a second and then glances at you over her shoulder. “Um, sorry, baby. I have to work all day tomorrow. Some last minute things I’ve got to get done.” 

You hum, a little disappointed, but graciously accept the water. “No worries. Maybe Monday or something.” 

“Yeah, of course. Just a second, I need to go grab something,” she murmurs and then walks into her bedroom. You’re exhausted and you get off the couch, stretching your aching muscles, and you’re about to follow her when her phone buzzes on the end table. 

Thinking it’s just a work email or something, you glance at it and your stomach drops, heart lurches. 

It’s a text message from an unknown number. 

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen�� @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights

[kaliina-catoe-blog]

No. I hate this take, and I'm sorry to be adding to someone else's post to say it because I genuinely don't want to send hate to OP. But I am so so tired of this HORRIBLE take about Tim. It's completely ridiculous to me to think that Tim Drake is in any way a child who had a normal childhood. "I went to the circus-" Fucking stop. Stop.

Tim Drake, at the ripe old age of TODDLER watched his two heroes fall to their extremely graphic and painful deaths. In front of their child, who we know for sure would have been screaming and crying if not vomiting at the scene. Their child who, earlier that same night, had been happily taking pictures with Tim and treating him so kindly.

Tim would be fucking RUINED just from that alone.

But, adding to that, he also was not giver proper adult supervision for literally almost his entire life before joining the Waynes. By proper, I mean actual real child care. Not school, not just the occasional rotation of nannies he's depicted as having had. Real, actual, care. He was starved for touch and attention and love for years, God knows he wasn't given any therapy after witnessing the death of the Graysons either. Homeboy had so much trauma and was so fucked up as a kid/teen he took to STALKING BATMAN for FUN.

I mean seriously???? Did we read the same character? Tim Drake has every reason to man to become a vigilante. And then? He figures out that Batman and Robin are his neighbors? Specifically that Dick Grayson is Robin? There was never anything that could have stopped Tim from being Robin even if Jason hadn't died.

And then he gets involved and his mom dies and his dad is severely hurt? Yeah. Why do people always insist he should be "normal" or "Okay" or some bullshit? He's a severely mentally ill teenager, and being Robin is one of few things that probably helps him not just go rogue and start fucking murdering people.

Again, do not send hate to OP. And this isn't to say OP is like. A bad fan or some shit. I'm just saying if you're going to talk about a character, you need to know them. And Tim is such an underrated and misunderstood character so it just makes my heart hurt to see people totally not get it.

Go follow OP tho and, give them love to make up for my rant here.

Especially Tim. Barbara at least had the excuse of traumatizing parental death, Tim's backstory? "I went to the circus once when I was three. Also my parents should prbly have gotten a divorce. I attended a lot of boarding schools."

[gooobraghhh]

I’ve successfully completely broken a mutual of mine and it has been so fun

I’ve talked about @the-kennel-keeper on here a few times but I think I really need to display the whole picture.

He started out like most of my followers, a puppy boy anon in my askbox that had a massive crush on me, but I had happened to follow his account along with like 10 others that were in the trans nsft tag when I first made this blog. He sent me an anonymous ask about realizing I followed him and how it got him so exited but he spam liked me like right before he sent it which made it exceedingly obvious who he was. That little pathetic mistake that was rip for being made fun of was the first thing that got me interested and his general tendency to accidentally humiliate himself or be easily tricked has remained extremely adorable. He finally dm’d me some message about how much he loves my blog since he wanted my direct attention and he did one of those ask games where one of the questions was like “who’s your tumbr crush?” and of course I asked him that one anonymously.

Surprise surprise he says me and at that point I’d sort of gathered too much dirt on him to let it go to waste and I really didn’t even try. We flirted, he talked about how he was only submissive in an extremely defiant, bratty way and how he basically can’t be tamed which just made him all the more alluring of a target for me. He did act like that for a while, but I built up to this perfect demeaning message where I revealed both of my little secrets on him and he just had no choice but to give in. The message ended with me telling him that I own him and I managed to get a “Yes ma’am” in response. He got so worked up that night that he finally got himself off after not being able to for months. I think that’s when I truly gained control over him.

Since then I’ve been slowly training him more and more. Learning exactly what gets him flustered and makes him tick. He started being more obedient, begging on command, singing my praises. A month or two later and the progress is undeniable. Hes cum for me a total of ~10 times (probably more than that, he couldn’t remember the exact number at first but I let him round down) 5 of which have been in the last 24 hours. He volunteered to send me audios of him jerking off and praising how good he’s been trained, he responds “yes ma’am” to basically every command I give him.

I know him so well that I can make him kind of shut down and give in from just a sentence or two of dirty talk. I mean I really pushed him today and yesterday and he couldn’t help but get himself off several times while recording it for me.

This man genuinely thought he was untamable, before talking to me he hadn’t even cum in months, but I’ve taken real good care of my new mutt. Thoroughly corrupted him into my perfect toy. Sometimes I even give him dirt on me just to give him a fighting chance but he’s so pathetic it doesn’t even matter. He’s had sex dreams about me and has chatted with me while around his friends, desperately trying to keep his composure.

So I’m starting a counter in my pinned of how many times he’s cum while thinking of me. It’s only fair I get to show off my hard work I think. We can all enjoy seeing how fucking pitifully submissive my mutt is.

And you can be jealous of him while that number ticks up because I know there’s a lot of you that’d kill to be in his position.

Exited to see how fast I can get keep the number increasing.

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.7): the cut - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

part 6- part 7 - part 8

unlike common belief, the four never hated the pogues. well not all of them at least, only if they had a reason to. people just assumed they hated pogues because people assumed they were the asshole type of kook, and sure they weren’t the type to always have their nice face on, but they weren’t mean; not with intention. they knew not to make enemies unless they had a reason to.

so even if people called it “weird” when sarah started talking to john b, none of them really minded.

the next day;

rafe pulls up outside your house, headlights cutting through the dim evening glow. you climb into the backseat, kicking your feet up onto the console as sarah turns around in the passenger seat, already smirking.

“you took forever.”

“cry about it,” you shoot back.

rafe doesn’t react like usual. just exhales through his nose, tapping his fingers against the wheel before reversing out of the driveway. the ride to the cut is mostly sarah filling the silence, rambling about john b’s latest scheme. you half-listen, half-watch rafe through the mirror. he’s not brooding exactly, just off.

by the time you pull up, the pogues are already there. john b’s messing with something on the hms pogue, kiara, cleo and pope sit on the dock talking, and jj—jj is the first to notice you. he tips his beer slightly, a slow grin creeping onto his face.

“well, look what the tide dragged in,” he drawls, eyes flicking between the three of you before landing on you.

you nod your head as an acknowledgement,

“yn” you say simply, stepping onto the dock.

jj cocks his eyebrow in confusion. "yn? thought it was roni."

you chuckle, "looks like someone did their research," looking at him.

jj smirks, "couldn't help my self," shrugging. "you drink?” he asks, handing you a open bottle.

you take the beer he hands you without breaking eye contact. “obviously.”

jj lets out a low whistle, clearly entertained. “alright then. let’s see if you can keep up.”

at first, you aren’t sure how the night will go, but somehow, you keep finding yourself next to jj. it’s not intentional—at least, not at first—but it just works. he’s sarcastic, reckless, always running his mouth, and somehow, it’s like talking to a male version of yourself.

at one point, jj leans in, grinning. “you’re actually kinda perfect.”

you raise an eyebrow. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he nods. “like, if i wasn’t me, i’d be you. which is honestly kinda terrifying.”

you smirk, taking a sip of your drink. “so what i’m hearing is—you’re obsessed with me.”

jj laughs, shaking his head. “might be.” then, like it’s the most casual thing in the world, he hands you his phone. “here. before i forget.”

you take it, glancing at the screen. he already has a new contact pulled up.

“oh, so you just assume i want your number?”

jj smirks. “you don’t?”

you roll your eyes but type it in anyway, handing the phone back. he glances at the screen, then back at you. “snap too?”

“god, you’re relentless,” you mutter, grabbing the phone again.

meanwhile, rafe lingers on the outskirts of the group. he’s there, but not really. drinking, laughing when necessary, but never fully sinking in. you notice. you clock the way he stands apart, how he never fully relaxes. but you don’t press it.

not yet.

later, after everything has settled, you get a noitification from being added to a group chat full of unknown numbers except jj and sarah. assuming its the members of today, you send a text.

you toss your phone onto the bed, something unsettled lingering in your chest. your mind kept jumping back to rafe's words, 'not used to hanging out with other people.'

the fuck was that supposed to mean?

tags under the cut!!

tags: @italk2god @angelicameron @marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43 @idiotussupremus @sereneera @yesshewrites1 @inlovewithchriss @ethanthequeefqueen @amterasuu @popou61 @drewsstars @yannew @anothertimegirl @flvredcas @yootvi @mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial @cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa @6r4cie @adalia-lovelace @bee-43 @drewrry @masongetinmybed @defnotayonna @lcversvoid @my-name-is-baby @lolasangelz @polli05927 @laniirackssss @rafecamerobswifeyy

[bussyyeukie]

Neon Lights and Blood Fights drabble

Fighter!simon x reader: Simon’s first time seeing you, and the first time he’s ever truly wanted something for himself.

Simon stood with his arms crossed, black jacket pulling at his muscles on his shoulders. Brows pinched together tightly, his lips downturned–although you couldn't see that part past the black baklava he was wearing, skull painted on the bottom half of it, hood pulled up over his head. Eyes blacked out by the dark smudging around them. Blending into the scene like a ghost despite his size.

Eyes scanning out over the crowd, air murky with smoke and the neon lights in the basement.

He couldn't seem to get away from the scent of mildew that filled the air. Groaning to himself about how he wanted to take his 5th smoke break of the hour just to get out of the thick air and men shouting.

A fight was going on in the makeshift ring in the middle of it all, Gaz repeatedly slamming his fist into some poor bloke's face till it was nearly mush. The crowd ate it up. Simon rolled his eyes as he swept his gaze around again. Everyone was behaving–or behaving for the event, no other fights breaking out, no one causing unnecessary problems.

His boots thudded against the ground as he walked over to the makeshift bar, looked pretty legit for being set up that afternoon, but Price knew good people for it.

It was packed with drunk men, shouting and spewing nonsense.

His eyes landed on a familiar face, who was practically slumped over the bar with a drink in hand, squinting at his phone that was turned up too bright. The blond man shoving his way through the crowd, and damn near slamming his arm down next to the man, leaning towards him.

“Yeah I mean,” the man hiccuped a bit, rubbing his mouth, trying to show the bartender something on his phone, “She’s so hot ya know, but god just a bitch–like she just wants me ta-to be there allll the tiimmmee. Then when I actually wanna see her she’s all like, ‘bleh i’m so busy with work,’ and ‘wah wah i’m too tired tonight��.”

The bartender rolled his eyes as he mixed the drink, looking at the man with an annoyed gaze.

“It’s so annoying, she was cool at the beginning but ugh, she’s like…she’s so hot and good in bed but jesus it’s like, like she, like I’m supposed to just go to her whenever, like, I need my time ya know, my man time and shit…”

The lumbering man felt his stomach churn with what he was hearing, growing even more irritated with the bastard than he was.

The man looked at his phone again, sighing, muttering to himself, “Wish she had bigger tits though…”

“Nice night, ey mate?” Simon’s voice was gruff as he spoke–the man jumping in his seat and whipping his head around.

“Christ–uh, Ghost–heyy man uh–”

The man's hair was sweaty and stuck to his forehead, face flushed as he fumbled with his phone. Simon glanced at it, and felt his fist tighten up and his heartbeat speed up.

“Price’s been lookin' for ya, got some things to settle with ‘im.”

“Y-yeah,” the man looked to the bartender, who snorted out his nose and left the two alone, sending Simon a quick look, “I, I’ve got the money–almost um got the money like i’m so close to it–”

Simon cut him off by slapping his back roughly, jolting the man forward, digging his ribs into the bars corner.

“Oh I’m sure,” there was a beat of silence before he gestured to the phone on the bar, “That yer bird there?”

The man gulped and looked to his phone, as did Simon, a picture of you on the screen–it was a picture of you sitting with your knees to your chest, you were in a pair of black sports shorts that were just starting to ride up on your ass and a worn green t-shirt with some soda slogan on it. Your hair up messily and a fork resting between your lips. You were looking up at the camera through your brows a bit annoyed, a bowl of pasta sitting in front of you.

Simon felt his teeth grind together a bit, forcing himself to peel his eyes away from the phone to look at the much less pleasing sight of the drunk man who was sitting with his mouth open.

Simon agreed, you sure were something that was easy on the eyes. More than easy, he could look at you all day everyday if given the chance.

“Um…yeah?” the man sounded unsure of himself, slightly confused, “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Hm,” Simon hummed to himself, looking down at the picture again, “Pretty thing, ain't she?”

The man chuckled in a douche manner, “She’s pretty hot yeah, that’s why I’m dating her.”

There was a weird sense of boasting that rolled off the man's tone, eyeing Simon up and down.

“Wanna see more?”

Simon's gaze grew dark as he looked back to the drunk sitting there, who scrambled for his phone and started tapping at it, before holding it out to Simon–whose muscles tensed up and whose scowl deepened.

It was a picture of you on your hands and knees, chest nearly to the floor and your arm bent uncomfortably to reach under a shelf grabbing for something. Obviously unaware the picture was being taken.

“The fuck is that?” the titan of a man felt his voice drop lower, shoulders squaring out.

The drunk seemed to not catch the shift in atmosphere, “Got a great ass, don’t she?”

He looked back to his phone as Simon grabbed the man's wrist tightly, making him shout out a swear and look up with wide eyes.

“Hey what the hel–”

“Delete it.”

“Wh-what?”

“Delete. It.”

Simon’s tone was scary smooth, pulling the man's arms closer to him as he squeezed, leaning in closer.

“Uh–I…yeah I, ok I will…” Simon let go of the man and he stumbled back slightly, before shakily bringing his phone back to him, “Ya know she’s my girlfr–”

One look from the much bigger man caused him to shut up, snapping his attention back down to this phone.

“Ok, it’s gone…ass.”

Simon nodded, then reached around to grab the back on the man's collar. Pulling him up as Simon straightened up, arm solid with muscle as the scrawny man stumbled and reached around for him.

“Since ya ain't doin' nothin’, sure Price would like to 'av a word wi' ya…”

“I-I–”

Simon dragged him away, leading him out of the crowd stumbling and tripping over his feet with Simon’s wide steps. The blonds mind wandering back to the bird on the screen, his heart jumping again in his chest. For a moment he was taken out of the grimy place he was stuck in for the night, the air seemed easier to breathe and the nose not so grating on his ears…he had to see you again.

the lovely fighter si tag list:

@sophhieannee . @rafaelacallinybbay . @oceantornadoo  . @jamdoughnuts . @kupids-arrow . @msjaeger . @hidden-treasures21

[anghraine]

Okay, so this is the Tarsus IV post I vaguely threatened alluded to a few days ago. I wrote most of it before last night's grumbling about movie Kirk, btw, so it's not a result of that; I was already thinking about what we know about Kirk and the Tarsus IV massacre from TOS, and what speculations and headcanons make the most sense to me in the context of TOS. I just waited until today to post it because I wasn't quite done yesterday.

Anyway, I was going over the finer details of "The Conscience of the King" to figure this out, and ended up with a ton of thoughts about the Tarsus IV backstory. So here are my (many) personal takeaways:

Firstly, there's a vague reference to some kind of local coup or uprising that put Governor Kodos in power, I think shortly before the food supply crisis. We don't get any details about the uprising from TOS, though the next to last version of the episode's script did mention Kodos setting himself up as a messianic figure once the coup succeeded. In any case, his power grab was certainly reinforced by the starvation crisis, as revealed by Spock's research:

"there were over eight thousand colonists and virtually no food. And that was when Governor Kodos seized full power and declared emergency martial law."

As far as we know in TOS, the crisis was set off by chance: an exotic fungus happened to destroy most of the colony's food supply, and it wasn't clear when relief would arrive. In fact, the Federation did send relief to the colony, per their usual practice, but it took them long enough to get there that the situation had become dire by then. Nearly all food was gone and the colonists were starving; the episode implies that some had even started committing suicide. Nevertheless, the Federation relief force arrived sooner than expected.

Kodos tries to argue in "The Conscience of the King" that the Federation's relief showing up so soon was just luck and he couldn't have guessed it would happen. But given what we know about the Federation as an institution, and given the urgent pressure the Federation puts on the Enterprise crew in multiple episodes to get food/supplies/medicine to some colony or another, it seems like there is a pretty competent, long-established Federation infrastructure for addressing crises like this. In reality, Kodos used the circumstances to justify something he already believed in and wanted to try implementing.

That thing was eugenics. This isn't ambiguous; the aired episode explicitly describes his atrocities as based on eugenics. The starvation of the colony gave Kodos the opportunity to put his theories into action.

He declared that half the colony would be executed, and the remaining food distributed among the other half. Moreover, the assignment of each colonist to either group was determined by Kodos's conception and judgment of genetic superiority. The genetically inferior half of the population, according to Kodos, was executed, and the genetically superior survivors (again, according to Kodos) were given all the food supplies. Kodos's exact words at the time to those slated to die included these lines:

"Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony."

Kirk says of Kodos's full speech to those chosen for death:

"I remember the words. I wrote them down. [...] Are you sure you didn't act this role out in front of a captive audience whom you blasted out of existence without mercy?"

In the episode, Spock condemns Kodos in similar terms as "without mercy" and "ruthless," and is clearly horrified by what he's discovered:

"Children watching their parents die. Whole families destroyed. Over four thousand people. They died quickly, without pain, but they died."

The means by which Kodos had thousands of civilians killed isn't stated in the episode. As we see in the above quote, though, it seems to have been done very rapidly.

In an earlier draft, there's mention of some kind of re-purposed anti-matter chamber as the mechanism, and Kodos deliberately "sparing" Kirk while making him watch as the chamber switch was flipped. In that version, Kirk seems to be personally targeted for some reason, where in the episode as it is, he's just one of several random eyewitnesses who survived. I personally prefer the episode's version, which I think better fits a narrative around a mass-scale atrocity.

Anyway, there's another take on the massacre where the thousands of civilians slated for execution were gunned down with phasers, but I find that more difficult to reconcile with Spock's description, which sounds more mechanized and efficient to me. I do think there's reason to believe phasers or some other form of advanced weaponry did get used in the course of events, but not in the executions—more on that later.

As I mentioned in my poll, Kirk is established in TOS as being only 33 during "The Conscience of the King," and thus was only 13 when he personally saw all this (the episode repeatedly insists the atrocity took place exactly twenty years earlier—I think the emphasis on this time gap is important). There is no explanation in TOS of why 13-year-old Kirk seems to be the only member of his family who was present for this—and certainly the only one of the Kirks to personally see Kodos—though earlier drafts do have various explanations that make sense.

For instance, there was an idea floating around the drafting process that Kirk might have been a young midshipman stationed on Tarsus IV during the massacre, not a child. His exact age in TOS was up in the air until the second season explicitly established his then-current age as 34. So that idea is not at all canon, but did internally make sense, since there'd be no reason for his relatives to be posted with him.

There's also a fairly late script in which Kirk's father was among those killed. I believe Kirk Sr was already envisioned as a Starfleet officer at that point, and had been assigned to a post on Tarsus IV some time earlier, which is how a boy born in the Midwest ended up living in a remote colony as a child. However, as I understand, the writers were forced to remove the reference to Kirk's father getting killed because higher-ups didn't want to nail down Kirk's history too much in S1, in case they later wanted to take his family in a different direction.

IIRC, TOS never did do anything with Kirk's parents and we're never even told in the show if they're currently alive or dead, much less told anything about their roles during the massacre. His brother Sam Kirk was envisioned as 10 years older than James (I think the new shows shrink this, but that's irrelevant to the TOS production process), so it also made sense that Sam wasn't there, since he'd have been in his 20s and early in his own career elsewhere. (Sam and his family are mentioned in both earlier and later S1 episodes, so "they hadn't invented him yet" isn't the reason for his absence.)

Beyond all that, another detail I find interesting is that Kodos's speech announcing the impending massacre is preserved in some kind of audio file that Kirk has access to on the Enterprise. Kirk gives "Karidian" a copy of the exact words of this speech and orders him to read it aloud, and has the computers run a vocal comparison between that reading and the original recording. The computer analysis strongly indicates that both speeches were delivered by the same person, but lacks 100% certainty—perhaps due to vocal changes over the last 20 years, perhaps to a difference in the quality of the recordings or some other reason.

However, we don't actually know who recorded the original speech; since so few survivors ever got near enough to even see or hear Kodos in person, maybe the recording was done by Kodos himself or one of his people, and recovered later by Starfleet. The speech only addresses the colonists slated for death, suggesting that the 4000 chosen for survival had already been separated out. But it's possible that it was one or more of the colonists themselves who managed to record the speech.

Only nine of the survivors ever personally set eyes on Kodos (this seems to again imply that those selected for survival were mainly not present during the speech). There's a preserved photograph of him from that era, but that's all, and one of the reasons he's able to evade discovery for so long is because of the vanishingly few people involved who had ever seen him—this is not only canon but a major plot point in "The Conscience of the King."

I read on the wiki that there's a book about the whole thing, and in that version, Kirk never actually saw Kodos and just found a picture in a database, which honestly I think is stupid as fuck and makes no sense in terms of the episode as written (though very typical of corporate franchises watering down the horror of some element of an original, less sanitized story in later byproducts). In "The Conscience of the King," though, Leighton, Kirk, and Riley are explicitly stated to be among the nine survivors who saw Kodos personally.

It's never explained why they were among this small group of eyewitnesses, especially considering that Kirk and Riley would have been children at the time and Leighton was quite young.

Another intriguing data point is the fact that half of Leighton's face is very heavily damaged, and it does seem strongly indicated that this happened during the massacre. We don't know why, though, or how old he even was at the time—he seems older than 33-year-old Kirk, but they're good friends and rough contemporaries, so not that far apart in age.

There's also some interesting phrasing in the episode:

"There were nine eyewitnesses who survived the massacre, who'd actually seen Kodos with their own eyes. Jim Kirk was one of them."

This description is also from Spock after his research dive, someone unlikely to be loose with his phrasing. The general assumption, I think, is that the nine eyewitnesses (who I'm going to call the Tarsus Nine for convenience) were among those chosen for survival for eugenics purposes. The reason such a small number of them had ever seen Kodos is, presumably, that most people who'd seen him were deliberately assigned to the genetically unworthy group and killed. The Tarsus Nine were just the tiny fraction who flew under the radar.

That was my original impression, and it is possible, but there were some things I found puzzling about that scenario. For one, if the Tarsus Nine were separated with the other survivors, why are they persistently presented as the only eyewitnesses? If Leighton was separated into the survivor group, why was his face so heavily damaged in all this? Did he try to fight? Would he have been spared from death if he did? And the episode is clear that Leighton, Kirk, and Riley all heard Kodos's speech and witnessed the massacre in person.

Leighton:

"I remember him. That voice. The bloody thing he did [...] Jim, Jim, I need your help. There were only eight or nine of us who actually saw Kodos. I was one, you were another."

Kirk:

"But I remember. [...] I remember the words. I wrote them down. [...] All I understand is that four thousand people were needlessly butchered. [...] I saw him once, twenty years ago. Men change. Memory changes."

Riley:

"He murdered my father, and my mother. I know that voice, that face, I know it. I saw it. He murdered them."

I had been considering possible explanations for the uniqueness of these nine people as the only direct eyewitnesses among some 4000 survivors + the fact that the three eyewitnesses we meet would have been so young at the time (and Spock talks specifically of children seeing their parents die) + Kirk saying he remembers hearing the speech and that he only ever saw Kodos that one time + the Tarsus Nine knowing that nobody left alive except themselves saw Kodos as governor + their very accurate estimates of how many eyewitnesses survived + Leighton's facial scars.

And then I tripped over an ancient post (on livejournal of all things—I was linked to a post unrelated to the massacre and then followed another link) that collected some of the relevant Tarsus IV quotes and offered a very simple and elegant solution.

What if the Tarsus Nine weren't assigned to the "genetically more valuable" group? What if Kirk, Riley, Leighton, and the other six were in fact considered genetically unworthy and assigned to the group slated for death? What if they're the only direct eyewitnesses because everyone else was either removed from the massacre (and never saw the speech) or killed, and that's why there are so few of them?

me: oh damn, I didn't think about that and ... whoa, I don't think the episode ever does say what group they were actually assigned to. It's possible. Holy shit.

So, here's an alternate possibility/headcanon:

4000-odd colonists including the Tarsus Nine were gathered without any knowledge of the intended massacre. They didn't know where the other colonists were or what was going on beyond starvation and martial law. None of them had ever personally seen their reclusive governor. They were just waiting with their families to find out what was going on. Kodos came out to speak to them, at last, and delivered his speech to those slated for death (hence Kirk saying in TOS that he only ever saw him once, 20 years earlier). The "survival" group didn't hear it and never saw him. But Kirk, Leighton, and Riley did—because they were supposed to die.

Kodos's description of 33-year-old Kirk is, uh, let's say intriguing in that context:

"Here you stand, the perfect symbol of our technical society. Mechanized, electronized, and not very human. You've done away with humanity, the striving of man to achieve greatness through his own resources."

Kodos's murderous daughter Lenore, similarly, says:

LENORE: Are you like that, Captain? All this power at your command, yet the decisions that you have to make— KIRK: Come from a very human source. LENORE: Are you, Captain? Human?

It's likely that these colonists and other residents didn't all go meekly to their entirely unexpected deaths. If we go with the concept of Kirk's father as a Starfleet officer serving on a post on the colony, some of these people were in Starfleet and might well have still had weaponry of some kind. They were just as hungry as the rest, but I suspect would have fought to the death against an undisguised atrocity. I think others also would have fought back against Kodos's people, despite being starved and much less well-armed (if armed at all).

In all probability, none of them expected to win, but hoped to buy time for others, especially their children, to escape (hence the conspicuous youth of the eyewitnesses). The resisting residents would have been massacred by Kodos's troops as he took control of the situation, even before thousands of more people were sent to their executions, but I imagine this resistance created enough havoc for nine children and young adults to escape with their lives (Leighton's face getting seared in the process—perhaps by a phaser set to kill that barely missed him).

Most of the literal children among the Tarsus Nine had seen their parents killed as Kodos's people took control, as had other children who didn't survive (hence Spock's description of children watching parents die and of the nine eyewitnesses directly surviving a massacre). The Tarsus Nine may have seen the other colonists forced into the execution mechanism, whatever it was, either during their escape or if any snuck out afterwards to see. Regardless, I headcanon that the Tarsus Nine found each other and hid out together (I'm assuming they ended up cooperating because they're so accurate about just how many of them there were and because I'm guessing literal children wouldn't have survived alone).

We don't know a whole lot about what was going on psychologically with them at the time. But something else I've been thinking about is the interesting ambiguity in Kirk's statement to Kodos about the original genocide speech. Kirk says, "I remember the words. I wrote them down," which seems a reference to Kirk writing the speech down during the episode to force Kodos to read it. However, something I find fascinating there (/Spock fistbump) is that Kirk's statement that he himself wrote down the speech follows so directly from "I remember the words."

I think the implication is that he wrote down the exact words of the speech from memory (indicating that Kodos's genocide announcement that Kirk heard at age 13 is still seared into his mind). Or possibly, the causality is reversed: he perfectly remembers Kodos's speech because he wrote it down at some point in the past (likely not long after surviving the massacre). The former seems a bit more probable to me, but either case would suggest quite a lot about how deeply this affected him.

But whatever the Tarsus Nine were up to, they lasted long enough for Starfleet to arrive and take charge of the situation. We don't know the details of how that happened from TOS, either, though the fact that Kodos got the hell out of Dodge and left a burned body to be misidentified as him suggests that it was obvious enough what Starfleet's arrival was going to mean well before any fighting began.

Afterwards, well ... some of the Tarsus Nine maintained ties, for sure. Kirk and Leighton seem to be trusting friends; they address each other by familiar nicknames, Kirk knows Leighton's wife, and he regards Leighton's deception as something of a personal betrayal. Kirk is a bit vague on Leighton's professional life and dismisses his suspicions at first, so I don't think they're super close, but it's a trusting and familiar relationship in general.

Meanwhile, others among them lost contact. Kirk clearly has no idea that the Lieutenant Riley he knows on the Enterprise was a little boy among the other eyewitnesses, which seems probable enough. Riley likely ended up with caretakers who wouldn't have been all that keen on him being reminded of the horrific trauma he'd experienced. Him ending up on the Enterprise by sheer chance is a hell of a coincidence, but that's not unusual for Star Trek, let's be real.

A minor point: I'm guessing Sam Kirk had a hell of a week as the information about what was happening on Tarsus IV leaked out. I'm guessing from the outside, there'd be the official alert of the food crisis -> the colony's communications going dark -> Starfleet arriving and discovering what had happened -> their updates as they searched for survivors and those responsible -> their reports of finding the 4000 chosen for survival and the Tarsus Nine.

Moving forwards chronologically, we don't know that much about the longer-term effects on the Tarsus Nine apart from Kirk, though Riley is clearly haunted to some extent. Thomas Leighton has a respectable career, though his wife says after his death:

"At least he has peace now. He never really had that before."

As for Kirk, I think the next "version" of Kirk we know anything about via TOS is him as a very young man at Starfleet Academy. This Kirk is repeatedly described as bookish and solemn. In "Shore Leave" (which follows very shortly after "The Conscience of the King," though it's far lighter), we get this exchange:

KIRK: I know the feeling very well. I had it at the Academy. An upperclassman there. One practical joke after another, and always on me. My own personal devil. A guy by the name of Finnegan. MCCOY: And you being the very serious young— KIRK: Serious? I'll make a confession, Bones. I was absolutely grim.

Yeah, I wonder why.

Even as late as his time as an instructor at the Academy, when he was Lieutenant Kirk, he seems pretty recognizably "that" Kirk. He taught a notoriously challenging class (the subject not stated, but implied to be philosophy) and was known as a demanding teacher. In "Where No Man Has Gone Before," his friend and former student Gary Mitchell says:

"Well, I'm getting a chance to read some of that longhair stuff you like. Hey man, I remember you back at the Academy. A stack of books with legs. The first thing I ever heard from an upperclassman was, watch out for Lieutenant Kirk. In his class, you either think or sink."

Mitchell jokes about how he only passed by orchestrating the campaign of a "little blonde lab technician" to distract Kirk from his usual severity. And even this was not a fling; Kirk's relationship with the lab technician reached the point that he almost married her. So even that suggests someone who was taking every part of his life deadly seriously.

The personable, dutiful-but-easy-going charm and good humor of Kirk in much of TOS seems to not have been much in evidence for many, many years of Kirk's life. And even by the time we meet him, this runs much less deep than his powerful sense of responsibility and his commitment to the ideals of the Federation and his own philosophical convictions. We often see his outwards charm switch off like a light when it doesn't serve his purposes.

This is especially apparent in "The Conscience of the King" itself, which includes one of Kirk's most cold-blooded charm offensives—he can't immediately reach Kodos, so instead he deliberately charms Kodos's nineteen-year-old daughter Lenore in order to dig up information on him (not realizing Lenore herself is a murderer). There is a chasm between this calculated charm and his manner when he finds Kodos and drops the front:

The last thing I wanted to say about "The Conscience of the King" and this particular backstory for Kirk is that, after all of this, what exactly is the point of the backstory revealed in this episode? It's Star Trek, there usually is one, even when it's executed badly or clumsily. What is it gesturing at?

There's a repeated emphasis on the twenty years between the present moment and Kodos's atrocity. He is now an old man living a normal life, and doesn't seem to be a particular threat to anyone. One of the major subplots involves Spock trying to figure out what the hell happened twenty years earlier, then trying to convince McCoy of the threat, then Kirk and Spock and McCoy having this fraught discussion about it.

Spock is not dispassionate; he is horrified by both the past atrocity and current threat to Kirk, and quickly reaches a point of certainty about Karidian's/Kodos's identity and what should be done about him. Kirk is more anxious and unsure about getting it wrong and about his own motives, despite simultaneously wanting to just kill this guy on the spot. McCoy doesn't want to believe at pretty much every turn, and even when he does, is wary of acting out of potentially questionable motives so long after the fact. It leads to this great scene between all three:

SPOCK: Why do you invite death? KIRK: I'm not. I'm interested in justice. MCCOY: Are you? Are you sure it's not vengeance? KIRK: No, I'm not sure. I wish I was. I've done things I've never done before. I've placed my command in jeopardy. From here on I've got to determine whether or not Karidian is Kodos. SPOCK: He is. KIRK: You sound certain. I wish I could be. Before I accuse a man of that, I've got to be. I saw him once, twenty years ago. Men change. Memory changes. Look at him now, he's an actor. He can change his appearance. No. Logic is not enough. I've got to feel my way, make absolutely sure. MCCOY: What if you decide he is Kodos? What then? Do you play God, carry his head through the corridors in triumph? That won't bring back the dead, Jim. KIRK: No, but they may rest easier.

Of course, the matter of "oh hey, we keep finding elderly people who committed atrocities some 20 years ago and we've got to navigate how to deal with them now in a way that honors their victims" was not at all metaphorical at the time. In the 60s, the architects of atrocities who made their escape twenty years earlier and were discovered as ostensibly normal aging people were just literal Nazis.

While the Tarsus IV massacre is on a much smaller scale, obviously, Erin Horáková has a good explanation of the topicality here:

In “The Conscience of the King”, we learn that Kirk is a survivor of a colony-world genocide that occurred during his childhood. As an adult, Kirk attempts to determine whether an old man, now an actor, is actually Kodos, the mass murderer who perpetrated this genocide. “Conscience” is a complex, shifting episode made in the wake of the arrest of aged Nazis in South America by Mossad agents (again, it’s subtextually important to this episode that Kirk is played by a Jewish actor).

For further context, plenty of people involved in TOS had themselves fought in WWII, so "what do we do about elderly Nazis" was not a distant issue. Also, while Roddenberry himself was unfortunately antisemitic (a quality presumably related to "Patterns of Force" ever seeing the light of day), there were a lot of Jewish people working behind and in front of the camera on TOS, most famously including both William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy (both are/were Jewish actors from Jewish communities, though this tends to be much more present for many fans with Nimoy—it's hard not to think that is at least partly related to their physical appearances). So the whole premise is complex and fraught in real world terms, as well, which I felt was also worth mentioning as a significant element of what's going on here.

[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (2/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; Okay, first of all, you guys are AMAZING. 🥹🩵 Thank you so much for all the love and comments on the first chapter! I honestly didn’t think anyone would like it because of all the incredible Azriel fics out there, but I’m grateful for how well-received it is! I hope you enjoy this just as much! And thank you again to @coffeebooksrain18 for the moodboard. She does an amazing job, so check her out pls!

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲, 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻, 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹.

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖢𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ; 3633.

The shadow spoke in a breathless whisper, trickling in with the cool breeze of the night, and a hand flew up to her mouth. She held in whatever sound was threatening to burst free and struggled for a minute to remain focused.

I can hear you in my head! Just like I do myself. Oh! Ariadne blinks in a rush, her vision becoming watery. You’re the first voice that I’ve ever heard in my life besides my own! This is incredible! Have I always been able to do this?

Since you were Made.

Does this mean I can talk to anyone now? Ariadne felt like she was going to explode, every one of her limbs trembling as she tried to process exactly what it was that was happening; she could hear - not in a traditional sense, but it was still something - and it was the most exciting thing that she had ever had.

Once you learn.

She supposed that made sense. It would be just like anything else; practice makes perfect and being immortal meant she had nothing but time, right?

Will you… help? Ariadne opens her palm as the shadow circles around before wrapping around her arm. Normally, I’d teach myself but this isn’t exactly the same as what I’ve done in the past. I don’t even know where to start. Does Azriel know you’re here? Did he send you? Does he know too? Does anyone else?

You will be led in the right direction. And no to your other questions.

How did you end up knowing? Especially when no one else did? That was what was bothering her the most. If the shadows were commanded, then why had this one in particular broke away from the rest to come to her?

The shadows gather information from all across Prythian and have come across Daemati before. They are rare, but they are out there. Feyre Cursebreaker is one. We could sense it in you.

Then why wouldn’t Azriel know? Aren’t you supposed to report everything to him?

Not always.

It sounded almost amused at that and Ariadne was beginning to realize that Azriel’s shadows had a mind of their own. Emotion too. That would definitely be something.

But for now, you need to sleep. There are bruises under your eyes.

She rests her other hand in her lap, trailing the tip of her finger along the embroidered filigree. I don’t sleep very well.

You have nightmares.

Her eyes widened a fraction. How did you know that?

When you made the entrance in the wall in your mind, you allowed access to what is inside and everything is chaotic in here. I did not snoop.

A tickling sensation bubbles up in her throat and Ariadne quickly swallows it back down; she didn’t know what her laugh sounded like, so she didn’t do it often. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed.

I don’t know why, but I believe you. I’ll… work on the chaos, the corner of her mouth curves upwards, not quite a smile but it was progress. And I’ll try to sleep too. I won’t make any promises though.

Good. Tomorrow, we will go to the library.

Ariadne’s gaze flicks to the closed door and she nibbles on the inside of her lip. Today was the first time she had left this room and now she was going to do it the very next day? Even if - she had to admit - it wasn’t so bad. Nothing horrible happened to her and she had managed to do what she wanted, almost, on her own.

Surely she could make it to the library and back with a similar result.

Alright, she nods. I can do that.

Of course you can. Sleep now.

The shadow’s whisper leaves her mind and she blinks, feeling around at the opalescent wall to see the opening was still there. How could she close it? Think of it molding back, Ariadne takes a breath. Piece by piece until it’s shut.

She grits her teeth with the effort it takes, a bit of sweat forming on her brow as the pressure builds beneath her skull; her breaths were heavier and there was a flash of bright light behind her eyes, yet she continued on until it began to come together.

It wasn’t happening as fast as she would’ve liked and it hurt, but by that damn Cauldron, she was doing it.

And she couldn’t help the glimmer of pride that shone in her when the opening closed completely, leaving only that moonlight glow behind.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

The nightmares came as they always did. In flashes of images that she desperately wanted to forget and in bursts of pain that reminded her she had screamed in the water after being thrown in, and there had been no one to hear her as liquid filled her lungs, cutting off her air supply and choking, burning. Too much. It felt like everything was on fire and she was being torched from the inside out.

And she never wanted to feel that ever again.

It also led to her only lightly napping for a couple hours, which did her no good at all, but she was in no position to complain either. Everything had happened so quickly, even if she was sleeping well, it would still take awhile to recover.

At least she tried.

Ariadne had managed to wash up in the bathroom, which actually went better than she thought, and was already dressed, though she didn’t eat. Her appetite could still use some work. None of it was appealing and made her want to vomit, in truth, so that was for another day.

The shadow hadn’t come back yet and it was approaching mid-morning. Did that mean she was expected to go alone? She’d never been there before and sure, the kitchen was easy enough to find, but what if this was harder?

And that means what? That you’re going to quit? You’ve dealt with worse and you can make it to the library on your own, Ariadne stands with a huff and strides over to the door, opening it and walking out to the left instead of the right. See, I can do it myself.

She keeps going with purpose in each step and passes by the doors that housed more bedrooms until she reaches the end of the hall. It curves to the left and she decides to follow it, figuring this was the best option right now.

I wonder if Nesta has at least been reading. I know she’s worried about Elain, but she needs to worry about herself too, Ariadne glances over her shoulder as if she would find the steely-eyed gaze of her sister and is relieved when she doesn’t. Maybe you could bring her some after you’re done.

It would give her a chance to feel some sort of connection back to their old life and what she loved to do.

They all needed that.

Ariadne’s fingers twitch and she takes a breath as she looks up to see a set of double doors, made of some sort of mahogany - she guessed - with iron handles. Hilarious, she rolls her eyes and pulls it open to see inside. Ah-ha! I’m good at this.

She’d found the library.

It smelled like ink and paper with a hint of lemons. And it was cozy too, with overstuffed armchairs and a loveseat arranged around the fireplace, decorative pillows, tables with potted lilies and vines, stacks of notes, plush rugs, and rows and rows of shelves filled with books.

You gotta be kidding me, Ariadne walks over to one of the shelves and runs her fingers over the spines. There has to be hundreds in here. This is insane, she bites her bottom lip. Where do I even start?

She squints at the titles and selects a few that she thought might be useful, along with one or two that just seemed like they would be fun to read. It couldn’t hurt to see what type of fiction was over here in Prythian.

After gathering them all in her arms, Ariadne makes her way over to one of the armchairs and sets the stack of books on the small table beside it. She moves to grab for plain paper and something to write with when a bound leather notebook and a cream colored quill with an inkpot appears right before her eyes.

Just like the orange juice, she sits down and pulls her legs up underneath herself. Amazing, really. I didn’t even have to ask you to do that, the first book she grabs is one about magic and powers of the Fae in Prythian; if any of them would have information about Daemati, this would - probably - be the one.

Ariadne flips it open and runs her finger along the page, finding herself wondering how old it was, how far the history went back. It was truly something to think about.

The seven Courts of Prythian each have a type of magic that is specific to that area and the High Lords are the most powerful, some of them even having additional abilities.

Winter Court Fae have ice manipulation, which also extends to frost and snow.

Autumn Court Fae have fire, able to create and wield flames.

Summer Court Fae control water, forming it into any shape, any size, and will it where they wish.

Spring Court Fae are connected to the earth and air, finding their power in nature and blending into their surroundings.

Dawn Court Fae brings the art of healing, producing some of the greatest Healers in Prythian, talented enough to mend any injury.

Day Court Fae have light and are able to break through darkness, showing the truth. High Lord Helion is known as the Spell-Cleaver.

Night Court Fae controls darkness, bending it to their will and stealing sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell.

Ariadne tilts her head and quickly grabs the notebook and quill, settling the inkpot on the arm of the chair and beginning to jot down notes. She wanted to know everything that she could; Feyre came back with multiple powers after being resurrected and who was to say the same hadn’t happened to her?

She deserved to know that about herself if that were the case.

To control the mind is deadly. If a Fae holds this power and wields it against another, death is certain to follow.

That didn’t seem like something she would be able to do, so maybe it was just the mind reading then? Or rather, Daemati? What was the difference?

Ariadne underlines a few times and turns through the pages in search of the word ‘Daemati’, knowing that there had to be something. Rare or not.

They are called Daemati. This is an exceedingly rare gift that the Mother only hands out to those She chooses. A Fae who has this ability can read, influence, and shatter one’s mind.

Many, especially those in positions of power, learn to train against a Daemati. The methods differ for each Fae and each Court.

So it did mean she would be able to do that. Supposedly. But how? Ariadne wasn’t a violent person and to crush someone’s mind and kill them? There was no way she could ever be capable of something like that.

Not in a million years.

All she wanted was to be able to talk with another person - even if it wasn’t the usual way, who cares? - and then it wouldn’t just be her anymore, which was huge. It was something she had wanted for a long time and she would be a fool not to at least venture into the mind reading portion of it.

And letting in another person like she had managed with the shadow last night.

Ariadne wanted to figure out how, but it seemed that whoever had written this one decided not to give out too much information on the subject. I could ask Rhysand? He’s one, isn’t he? But I have no idea how to ask him and even if I did… I don’t really want to, she frowns.

It can’t be too hard. If a Daemati controls the mind, then I’d need something to protect myself, wouldn’t I? That’s what that wall could’ve been. Think about it, she taps her finger on the page. You had to create an opening for the shadow to get in and be able talk to you, then when it left, you had to close it back.

Her finger moves faster and she sits up a little straighter, writing down a few more notes. That keeps people out, but also lets people in, she dips the end of the quill into the ink. And from what the shadow said, it could see I had nightmares and said it was chaotic, so maybe I have to organize everything and keep certain things locked away. Like in a safe.

The movement of the quill across the paper quickened, putting all Ariadne’s thoughts in black and white, her mind racing with how much she was discovering and absorbing already.

That’ll be hard, considering I’ve never had to worry about anyone being in my head before. Not impossible though, which is good. Where should I start? Raising and lowering the wall? That would be the obvious choice, she places the cap on the inkpot and sets it back on the table, not wanting it to spill. Okay, her eyes fall to a close. Imagine a doorway forming in the light, a big enough space for a person. Just like last time.

She takes a steadying breath with her hands clasped together in her lap, beginning to focus on an entryway and feeling her body shake with the effort; her nails dig into soft flesh and she withholds a wince, knowing that her concentration couldn’t be broken, not when the wall was coming apart little by little.

Come on, come on, Ariadne’s brow furrows and she bites down on the inside of her lip, her breathing slightly quicker and more labored than usual. Almost there. A little more and you got it.

With a final push, the opening appears in the same spot it had before and she very nearly cheers aloud, but quickly decides against it and instead, she gives herself a small pat on the back. Well done, Ari! Again.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

She wasn’t sure how long she spent in the library, a few hours at least, or how long she had been practicing opening and closing the door in her mind, but she was sure that she needed a break. It seemed she had gone too far and exhausted herself even more so than she already was.

Probably not the best idea.

And she realized how deep she had gone with the way her once artfully messy bun was now falling to the nape of her neck, strands of rich brown and caramel frazzled in complete disarray; what a sight she must be.

Ariadne sighs and closes all the books she had read through, stacking them on the table along with the notebook and standing up to stretch herself out. A couple of her joints pop and she makes a face. What time is it? It has to be past lunch, she wiggles her toes against the carpet, thinking for a moment.

You should probably try and eat something. When was the last time you even ate? Do you remember? She couldn’t. It must’ve been when she was still human, which definitely wasn’t a good thing.

With a final sigh, Ariadne leaves the library and makes her way back in the direction that she came, knowing that she would be able to find the kitchen again fairly easily. She didn’t really want any food, but it had been awhile and she had to have something eventually, if she didn’t want to waste away to nothing, that is.

She enters the kitchen and finds it empty, as usual, her hands splaying out across the countertop as she mulls over what she might be able to keep down.

Soup, maybe? I won’t have to chew and it sounds less intimidating than anything else, a small hum, followed by honey eyes lifting to gaze at the ceiling. Would you mind getting me some? Tomato, please. Nice and hot.

There’s a shift in the air and in a matter of seconds, a steaming bowl appears in front of her, along with a spoon and a porcelain cup filled with tea; Ariadne offers the smallest hint of a smile. Thank you.

She grabs one of the stools and pulls it over before perching herself on top of it, feet dangling a few feet off the floor as she leans over to take the first spoonful into her mouth. It was smooth and creamy, igniting her tastebuds with the flavor of tomato, basil, and a subtle heat - pepper flake? - that elicited a small groan from her throat.

It was one of the best things she had ever had and she wanted to scold herself for not eating sooner. Better late than never, I suppose. Right?

Ariadne continues to eat, taking a small break in-between bites to add milk and sugar to her tea; she stirs it slowly and taps the spoon lightly on the rim before taking a sip. Her eyelids flutter. Gods, that’s good, she licks her lips and goes back to the soup. I should check on Nesta and Elain after this, shouldn’t I? But what would I be able to do? I still don’t know how to talk to them yet. Maybe waiting would be the smarter decision. I’m sure the last thing Nesta wants to do is read or write anything down.

The youngest Archeron was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the little shadow that had flitted towards her until she felt a cool sensation around her ankle. She looks down and her eyes brighten, immediately working to open the doorway in the shimmering wall of her mind.

It happens fairly quickly, much easier than it had when she first started, and she feels the presence of it enter.

There you are! I thought you said ‘we’ were going to the library.

The shadow wraps tighter around Ariadne’s ankle, its voice still that same breathy whisper. You managed just fine without me. It’s time you realize and accept that you are capable of more than you think.

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. How did it know her so well already? It was a bit unsettling, but not entirely unwelcome. Then why are you here now? If I can manage so well without you, as you say.

We were worried.

We?

Yes, Ariadne. We.

There was a part of her that wanted to ask more questions, but she also felt that if she were supposed to know, she would’ve been told. She had never been one to pry, always fearing that she would be overstepping somehow.

And even though the shadow wasn’t a real person talking to her, it was all she had right now and she wasn’t about to make it go away by not shutting up when she needed to.

Which is why she chooses to change the subject instead.

I know how to make the entry in the wall and how to close it. I practiced for a few hours. Not perfected, but that should mean I’ll be able to talk to someone else now, yeah? Ariadne feels goosebumps rise on her skin when it moves from her ankle to her calf, then disappearing entirely. Hey! Where did you g-!

The shadow reappears on her shoulder, the end of it looping through her hair and she felt a small vibration in the back of her mind; was it… purring?

No. Surely not. That was ridiculous.

Very good. I am proud of you. And yes, you should try it.

A warmth blossoms in Ariadne’s chest, spreading through her veins and giving her a sense of something akin to happiness. No one had ever been proud of her before. There was never a reason to be and now that there was, she found she liked the feeling.

What else had she missed out on?

Thank you! That’s sweet of you to say and it means a lot actually, her head turns, hand lifting to brush her fingers over the silken shadow. I’m nervous though, she swallows. I don’t know if how I talk in my head is okay for a normal conversation. What if…

She falls silent. What if she sounded… wrong?

What if how she ‘talked’ was silly and amateur? What if she didn’t make sense and confused them? Ariadne thought she sounded alright, but then again, no one could read minds as humans and tell her otherwise; she could come off utterly ridiculous for all she knew.

Do not think that way about yourself, the shadow’s whisper had changed, now holding a slight edge to its words and she couldn’t help but wonder why. You have a brilliant mind and what you are lacking does not take away from that in any way.

Ariadne blinks, caught off guard and momentarily rendered speechless. It was strange; it almost seemed… upset with her, which didn’t make sense. Why would it be when it barely knew her? Either she was predictable or more had been seen last night than what was admitted.

I just don’t want to be… foolish, her tone had lowered, now a whisper of her own, though it was meek and not at all like how she normally was. I’ve only ever talked to myself and how would I know what I’m going to sound like to another person?

No way to know unless you try.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites .

[hyperfixatedimagines]

Home for the Holidays Ch.3- Alicent x f!reader

Summary: You didn't get your happily ever after. Would this Christmas be any different from the last?

A/N: You asked, I answered....very late but better late than never right? Please let me know what you guys think! This will be the last installment for this fic so please enjoy!

It was never going to work out, at least that’s what you told yourself to make Alicent’s reaction sting less. 

It didn’t work. 

The day after Christmas dinner, the morning after you had slept with Alicent, was a cold one. 

After joking around with Aemond you went back up to Alicent’s bedroom, a fresh bottle of water in hand for her. 

You found her crying- sobbing, actually-  in front of her bathroom mirror. 

You watched her for a moment before making a sound. You cleared your throat before you opened the door the rest of the way.  

She quickly wiped her eyes and turned to you. “(y/n).”

You handed her the water bottle. “Is everything okay?”

Alicent uncapped the bottle and took a long drink. “I think we should talk,” she replied as she set the bottle down on the sink counter. 

Your stomach sank. You already knew what she was going to say. 

So you beat her to the punch. 

“You don’t have to say anything Alicent. We can act like nothing happened last night.”

Alicent frowned and looked away from you. “I think that would be for the best.”

You turned around and walked towards the door. Alicent reached out and grabbed you by the wrist. 

“I had a wonderful time last night (y/n) but-”

You didn’t turn back to look at her, you couldn’t. You knew if you did you’d start crying and it would only make Alicent feel worse. 

“It would never work out, realistically. I know that,” you replied in a soft voice. 

Alicent let go of your wrist. Your arm fell back to your side like a load of lead. 

“Precisely,” Alicent whispered. 

You swallowed hard then walked out of her bedroom. 

You barreled toward the guest room where your clothes were. You changed and called an Uber. The cost was outrageous but you couldn’t stand to be in Alicent’s home another second. 

-

After you changed you returned Aemond’s pajamas to him. 

You knocked on the door to his bedroom and waited. 

He opened the door, sweaty and shirtless. “Hey there creeper,” he joked. 

You forced a smile. “I’m here to return your pajamas. Thanks for letting me borrow them.”

Aemond grimaced. “Gods, I’ll have to burn them now. Won’t be able to wear them without knowing what occurred last night.”

Damn, you had forgotten you’d told him the truth. 

You furrowed your brows. “Have you spoken with your mom yet?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ve been avoiding her. I’m not quite sure how to look at her anymore. I mean, are you two dating now? Was it a one night stand? It’s a lot harder to reconcile than I thought it would be.”

There it was, an out. 

“Good,” you told him. “I lied earlier. I didn’t sleep with your mom. I was just teasing.”

Lying always made the bile in your stomach rise in your throat. This lie was especially hard on your stomach. 

Aemond sighed in relief. “You asshole. My anxiety was off the walls at the thought of it,” he said and jokingly shoved you.

You forced another smile. “I couldn’t help myself.”

You swallowed the bile in your throat. 

Aemond took the pajamas from you. He noticed you had collected your things. 

“Are you leaving?”

You nodded. “Yeah, my cousin called and she was able to send a car for me. It should be here in a few minutes.”

Aemond frowned. “I hoped you’d stay through New Years. It gets pretty lonely with it just being my mother and I. Aegon’s gone off somewhere to whore no doubt.”

“Maybe next time,” you replied.

He nodded. Then Aemond wrapped his arms around you. 

“Happy Christmas (y/n),” he said as he pulled away. 

“Merry Christmas Aemond,” you replied. “I’m going to wait outside. Your mom seemed busy this morning so tell her I said goodbye and thank her for her hospitality.”

Aemond nodded. “Will do. Safe travels.”

You turned and made your way down the hall. 

You were almost at the door when you heard Alicent call your name. 

You turned around at the door and there she was, rushing to meet you. You briefly hoped she had changed her mind and was coming to tell you. 

Sadly that was not it. 

She stopped a few steps away from you, a respectable distance. 

“You’re leaving,” she asked. Her eyes were bloodshot. 

You guessed she had continued to cry after you’d left her bedroom.

“Yes. I thought it best,” you told her, not meeting her gaze. 

“Oh,” she replied, a frown on her face. 

A beat passed in silence. 

You gazed outside and saw a car coming down the driveway. 

“Looks like my car is here.”

Alicent stepped closer to peer outside. 

She was close. You could smell the perfume of her shampoo that still lingered in her hair. Cinnamon and vanilla. You closed your eyes and took in the smell. 

It felt bittersweet.

She saw the car then stepped away.

“Right, well thank you for spending Christmas dinner with us.”

“Thank you for having me,” you said and turned to leave.

Alicent reached out and touched your shoulder. 

You stopped. 

Her hand remained on your arm. 

“You don’t have to leave. I- Aemond would like for you to stay, I’m sure of it,” Alicent said, her voice straining against choked back tears.

You looked over at her hand on your shoulder. 

“There’s no reason for me to stay…” You turned around to face her. “Unless there is?” You met her gaze, begging her to tell you to stay.

But you could tell by the sorry look on her face that she wouldn’t. 

“Aemond would appreciate it,” she replied. 

“Only Aemond,” you asked, giving her another chance. 

But you knew she wouldn’t take it. 

Alicent looked away from you.

You nodded slowly.  

“Merry Christmas Alicent,” you said and walked out.

You didn’t look back as you made your way to the car. 

You got in and greeted the driver. You wouldn’t look back. 

You buckled your seatbelt and the driver started to pull out of the driveway. Still, you wouldn’t look back. 

But as you neared the exit gate you caved and looked back. 

Alicent stood in the doorway, her arms hugging her sides.

From your distance you couldn’t make out the look on her face but you figured it matched yours.

Tears spilled down your face and you quickly wiped them away. You swallowed the rest of them and faced forwards.

It would be hard to forget that night, but you knew you had to if you were to remain friends with Aemond.

-

The year that followed was one you could not have predicted. 

Your family came around to your sexuality. They apologized for their behavior and welcomed you back into the family fold. 

As such you were able to get your own flat. 

Moving out was not as hard as you thought it would be. You and Aemond had not fallen out but distance had grown between you. 

There was no direct reason or cause. You had simply spent less and less time together. 

He found a girlfriend in a mutual friend named Alys, and you had found a wonderful distraction in working for your family’s company. 

Graduation only served to further the divide between you. 

It was also the first time you’d seen Alicent since Christmas. 

She looked stunning, that was no surprise. 

What was a surprise was the man next to her the whole ceremony. 

Had she already found a new partner?

When the ceremony ended you found Aemond and congratulated him. He did the same and hugged you. He also affirmed that while you two had become distant his love and affection for you had not. 

You told him you felt the same and hugged him. 

Then he mentioned he was upset to see his mom’s new boyfriend with her. 

Boyfriend, your heart sank.

But you weren’t surprised. A woman like Alicent would not remain single for long. 

Alys pulled Aemond away before you could ask for any more details. Your family had also approached you to congratulate you. 

You didn’t speak to Aemond much after graduation but he always liked and commented on your Instagram posts and you did the same with his. 

You wouldn’t see Alicent again until Christmas came back around. 

That Christmas your family had decided to throw a lavish ball for friends and business associates. 

You dreaded the thought of having to play the perfect daughter all night long but you knew that you would manage with your cousin Elia by your side. 

Unfortunately for you, Elia had gotten stuck at the airport oceans away. 

So you scrambled to find a friend to join you for the night. 

More unfortunate for you, they were all busy for the night with family or their own plans. 

The only name on your contact list you hadn’t called was Aemond. 

You knew he’d be busy with his own family so you didn’t bother. 

Instead you posted a cheeky Instagram story about suffering through the party alone for your close friends list. 

A few minutes after you posted the story Aemond direct messaged you asking if you wanted a plus one that he was available. 

You called him, not wanting to go back and forth over text.  He answered on the first ring. 

After exchanging pleasantries you asked why he was free on Christmas. Weren’t his family coming down like they did last year?

“No, my grandfather and uncles told my mother they wouldn’t be joining us this year,” Aemond explained. 

“Why? If you don’t mind my asking,” you replied. 

Aemond let out a big sigh. “They weren’t too thrilled that my mother broke off her engagement.”

“Engagement,” you exclaimed, confused. 

You had certainly missed that life update.

Aemond chuckled. “Guess I forgot to post that on Instagram didn’t I. Yeah, my mom got engaged to her boyfriend- the guy you saw during graduation- but she broke it off a few days after she said yes.”

Relief washed over you. You knew Alicent would never be yours, but at least she wouldn’t be anyone else’s either. 

“And why did your grandfather disapprove?”

“He was the one who set my mom up with the guy in the first place. He’s an up and coming guy in politics and my grandfather wanted our family attached to his,” Aemond replied. 

You nodded slowly. “I see. Did she love him?”

“Who knows. They weren’t very affectionate but my mom hasn’t ever been big on PDA.”

“Well I’m sorry to hear they won’t be coming. I know you don’t have the best relationship with them but still-,” you told him. 

“It’s alright. I’m not bothered but my mom isn’t taking it as well. Especially since Helaena is going to spend Christmas Eve and day with a friend. So it’ll be just her and I,” Aemond said with an exasperated sigh. 

“What about Aegon?”

Aemond huffed. “He’s in Las Vegas and doesn’t plan to come home.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. An idea had popped into your head. 

A potentially stupid one.

“Why don’t you and Alicent join us?”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind- well, your family wouldn’t mind?” Aemond asked, his voice hopeful. 

Your heart beat faster at the thought of seeing Alicent again. A whole year later and your heart still yearned for her. 

A bit pathetic of you really. 

Or romantic. 

“Of course they wouldn’t. It’s a big party for donors and friends. They won’t care to have two more in attendance,” you replied. 

“Alright then. I’ll speak with my mother but I’m sure she would prefer it to being home alone that night.”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the address. It’s a bit of a drive from Oldtown so if you can’t make it there won’t be any hurt feelings.”

“Nonsense. I’ll see you then,” Aemond replied. 

“See you then.”

You and Aemond said your goodbyes then you hung up. 

You smiled to yourself. The possibility of seeing Alicent again excited you but you tried to keep your expectations low. 

Even if she came that night it wouldn’t change a thing between you. 

You’d still be just Aemond’s friend. 

And she would still be just Aemond’s mother.

What you wanted from Alicent would take a real Christmas miracle. 

-

The night of the Christmas ball arrived. 

You and Elia had spent a great deal of time on Facetime choosing your attire for the night. You wanted to look so good it would take Alicent’s breath away. 

The guests had started to arrive so your parents had sent an assistant to fetch you. 

You walked down to the ballroom and walked over to where your parents stood. 

They were deep in conversation with another family when you approached them. You recognized the family. 

The Tyrells were an old money family like your own, but they had been your family’s sworn enemies for generations. 

That was until your father reached out to the Tyrells with an olive branch and mended the ages-long feud. 

Most of your family didn’t even know how the feud started. You guessed it had been about land. Most feuds boiled down to land disagreements. 

Now the Tyrells were great business allies. Your father had mentioned a desire to have the families united via marriage quite a few times but nothing had come of it. 

The Tyrell patriarch had a daughter and a son but the son had come out as gay a few years ago and the daughter was well known to sleep around with the staff. Your only eligible brother had just gotten engaged to his long time girlfriend Lyanna so a marriage to unite the families was out of the question for your generation. 

Or so you had thought. 

Your father turned to you as you approached. 

“There she is,” he said and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

You smiled politely. 

Your father gestured towards the Tyrell patriarch. 

“Mace, this is my daughter (y/n). Sweetie this is Mace Tyrell,” your father said. 

You shook Mr. Tyrell’s hand. 

“A pleasure to meet you sir.”

He shook your hand and smiled. “A firm grip, you’re like your father I see,” he joked. 

Your father let out a laugh. “She’s a real chip off the old block. She started with us this year and has already gone far beyond what we expected.”

Mr. Tyrell looked at you approvingly. “That’s great to hear Manfrey.” Then he turned around and called out, “Margaery!”

A young woman, probably your age or slightly younger, walked over. She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that turned heads everywhere she went. 

Too bad your heart was spoken for. 

So you admired her beauty the way you would admire a friend’s. 

Mr. Tyrell placed a hand on Margaery’s back. “Manfrey, (y/n), this is my daughter Margaery.”

Margaery curtsied and bowed her head to your father then to you. 

“A pleasure to meet you Margaery,” your father said and gave your shoulder a slight squeeze. 

You turned to him with a furrowed brow then turned back to Margaery.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you told her. 

She met your gaze. “The pleasure is mine (y/n).”

Your father cleared his throat. “I think we should let these two get acquainted, don’t you agree Mace?”

Mr. Tyrell nodded. “Absolutely.” He turned to Margaery. “Have fun sweetie,” he said, then gave her a kiss on the cheek.

You looked at your father, confused, but he just gave you a firm look. You’d seen that look before, mostly during business meetings when he needed you to close a deal with an associate.

You weren’t sure what kind of deal he wanted you to close with Margaery. 

You’d have to ask him afterwards. 

Soon you and Margaery were alone. 

Once her father was out of earshot she let out a deep breath. 

“Thank Gods they’re gone.”

You smiled. “You didn’t have to curtsey. My father might be a duke on paper but no one really cares about that around these parts.”

She returned your smile. “My father would’ve killed me if I didn’t. He told me I needed to make a very good impression with your family.”

A server walked by with a tray of champagne flutes. Margaery turned and grabbed two. Then she handed one to you. 

You took it and thanked her. 

“Why did you need to make a good impression?” You asked her as you took a sip of your drink.

She took a long drink from her own flute before responding. 

“I have no idea. All he said was to make a good impression and get to know you.”

You furrowed your brow. “That’s interesting. I wonder what he and my father are up to.”

Margaery’s smile returned. “My father is always up to something, though he usually involves my brother and not me.”

You clinked your glass against hers. “Cheers to that. My father's go to is my brother as well.”

“Hmm, how curious,” Margaery replied.

The conversation didn’t last much longer. Margaery’s eye had wandered to one of the more handsome servers and yours was constantly checking the entrance for any sign of Alicent. 

After speaking with Margaery you made your rounds with business associates and with family. Your mother had asked your opinion of Margaery, which you noted was peculiar, and your brother had asked if you thought she was pretty. 

Were they trying to set you up with her? Did she even like women?

Your mother and brother would not reveal anything so you knew you’d have to ask your father. 

You spotted him going to his study so you followed him but as you neared you stopped dead in your tracks. 

Alicent was at the door. Aemond was taking her coat and handing it to one of the doormen. 

You walked over to them, as calmly as you could but everything inside of you wanted to run over. 

Aemond saw you first. He walked up to you and gave you a hug. 

“Happy Christmas (y/n),” he said as he wrapped his arms around you. 

You returned his embrace. “Merry Christmas, Aemond.”

Alicent met your gaze over Aemond’s shoulder. The world stilled.

A lump formed in your throat as you pulled away from Aemond and Alicent stepped forward.

”Merry Christmas (y/n). Thank you for extending us an invitation,” Alicent said and approached you for a hug.

The smell of her vanilla perfume wrapped around you and flooded your senses as Alicent neared. 

You stepped away from her. 

Alicent froze.

You cleared your throat and plastered a polite smile. “I’m sorry. I… My father had sent me on an errand for him before I saw you two. It was urgent so I should uhm..I should get back to that. It’s lovely seeing you both.” You looked over at Aemond, unable to bear the weight of Alicent’s gaze. “Have fun.”

Then you walked away as fast as your legs could go. You rounded a corner and stopped to steady your breathing. 

A year had gone by and the second Alicent laid eyes on you. It felt like no time had passed and you were still the foolish girl standing in that bathroom, swallowing your tears and promising to forget an unforgettable night.

Suddenly the door to your left opened and out came the server who had carried a tray of champagne earlier. His hair was disheveled and he was hurriedly buttoning his shirt back on. He caught you staring and turned a deep red. 

“Miss,” he said and bowed his head as he walked away. 

You furrowed your brow and wondered what had happened but the answer came second later as Margaery emerged from the same room. 

Her hair was also slightly mussed. She noticed you and straightened herself instantly. 

“(Y/n),” she started.

Forgetting all about Alicent you smiled at Margaery. “It seems you’ve certainly made a good impression on that boy.”

Margaery eyed you nervously then let out a small laugh. “And on you?”

You held out your arm towards her. “I respect a woman who goes after what she wants.”

Margaery wrapped her arm around yours and smiled. “I knew I’d like you.”

You escorted Margaery back to the party then parted ways when your brother called you over to speak with some foreign investors. 

As conversation of donations and business dragged on, your eyes wandered. You scanned the breadth of the ball room for any sign of Alicent. 

Now that you had calmed down you realized how rude it was of you to reject her greeting of a polite embrace. 

But it was so hard to think straight upon seeing her. 

Especially in the dress she’d arrived in. It was a beautiful shade of green that brought out the deep hues of her auburn hair and amber eyes. 

You found her across the room, next to Aemond and a few old college colleagues. She looked bored. 

Ask her for a dance.

You shoved the impulsive thought aside. You knew better. 

Your brother’s ramblings tore your attention from Alicent back to him and the investors. It felt like torture to be so close and so impossibly far from her. You recalled feeling the same way at graduation. 

At least she was alone this time. You didn’t have to endure seeing her on the arm of some man.

At long last your brother offered to smoke a cigar with the investors and led them away. 

Finally alone you made your way towards Alicent. 

You had to apologize. 

But as you neared she excused herself and walked outside.

You followed her out to the gardens behind the estate. They were expansive but the path immediately in front of you, which Alicent walked on, led to a private bench and fountain. You had spent a lot of time in that secret alcove as a child, running away from responsibilities and your family’s tiring rules. 

Alicent sat down on the bench in front of the small fountain. 

You lingered in the hedges behind her, suddenly reminded of being a peeping tom again. 

“It seems your peeping tom ways haven’t changed,” Alicent joked and turned her head towards you. 

You emerged from the shadows of the hedges and sat down next to her on the bench, careful not to sit too close to her. 

“I wanted to apologize, for earlier,” you explained. 

Alicent looked down at her hands in her lap. “You have nothing to apologize for (y/n).”

You looked at the fountain. “It was rude of me.”

She looked up and over at you. “It’s alright. I expected something like that to happen.”

You met her gaze. “Really?”

Alicent looked away and sighed. "We didn’t exactly part on the greatest of terms last we saw each other.”

You nervously thumbed at a loose strand on your trouser seams. “I was surprised you came.”

“Aemond insisted,” Alicent replied nervously.

“Is that the only reason?” You asked, briefly wondering if you were a glutton for punishment. Asking questions you knew lead nowhere good. 

“Do you want me to say it was because I wanted to see you?” Alicent countered, the warmth and teasing tone of earlier completely gone. 

“Only if it’s the truth,” you replied.  

Alicent let out another sigh and shook her head. “What good is the truth?” She confessed bitterly.

You took a steadying breath before reaching out to touch the top of her hand. “I’ve missed you,” you confessed.

“Don’t say that,” Alicent replied and pulled her hand away.

You turned your body towards her. “Why not?”

Alicent met your gaze. “It doesn’t change anything.”

A knot rose in your throat. You swallowed hard.

Alicent’s gaze softened. “I don’t mean to be cruel (y/n).”

You looked away and turned back towards the fountain. You didn’t want her to see the tears that started to cloud your vision. 

Alicent reached out and touched the top of your hand. “(y/n)..”

“Have you missed me?,” you blurted out.

A true glutton for punishment.

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes. 

Alicent pulled her hand away and stood. “I should go back in.” She smoothed her dress and turned towards the hedges. 

You clenched your jaw and softly shook your head. “Do you have any idea how pathetic it feels to miss someone who doesn’t care about you at all…”

Alicent turned back towards you. She stared at you but didn’t say anything. 

You couldn’t tell if the look in her eyes was pity or guilt.

You stood and closed the distance between you and Alicent. “It’s the worst feeling in the world.”

Alicent opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a servant running out of the hedges. She caught her breath then informed you your father was calling for you. 

You dismissed her then turned to Alicent. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Mrs. Targaryen.”

Alicent’s gaze dropped at the mention of her married name. 

You knew it was petty and childish to call her that but you had been vulnerable with her and she couldn’t even pretend to have cared. 

-

You made your way back to your father. He was surrounded by his colleagues and Margaery’s father. 

He saw you and smiled. “Come my girl,” he called. 

You reached him and greeted the crowd around him. 

“It’s time,” he said and left. 

Your father walked up to the stage at the front of the room then waited as the singer finished her song and introduced your father. 

Everyone clapped as he walked to center stage and adjusted the microphone. 

“Thank you, thank you everyone. I hope you’re enjoying yourselves. This Christmas is a special one. Our family is whole once more, and I’m happy to announce it’s expanding,” you father declared then he asked you to join him on stage.

You did as he said and once on stage he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. 

“(y/n) has not only joined our philanthropic efforts but she has gone above and beyond all expectations. She has truly made the family name proud,” you father cheered. 

Everyone clapped. 

You smiled sheepishly. You could barely make out those standing closest to the stage, the bright lights blinding you to the rest of the room.

Then your father invited Margaery and her family to the stage. 

You weren’t sure where he was going with his speech. What did it have to do with the Tyrells?

Soon the whole Tryell clan was on stage next to you and your father. 

“I am more than happy to announce that after many centuries of feuding, Mace and I will finally put that ancient history to bed and unite our esteemed families,” your father elocuted.

You wanted to look at your father. You wanted to furrow your brows. 

But you knew better than to show any real emotion while in front of the spotlight. 

So you plastered a fake smile on your face and clapped along with the crowd.

“This coming spring my youngest daughter (y/n) will wed Margaery Tyrell and usher our family into a new, prosperous, and progressive era.” Your father gave your shoulder a squeeze.

Your stomach dropped. 

You finally turned to your father. 

The look on his face was a diplomatic one.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to ask anything until you were in private. 

So you turned to Margaery, who seemed just as shocked as you by the news, and smiled at her. 

Your father encouraged you and Margaery to hold hands so you reached out and laced your fingers with hers. 

Her hand shook and you did your best to give her a comforting look.

By the look on her face it brought nothing of the sort. She had gone absolutely pale.

-

After the announcement your father had led you and the Tyrell clan to his office. 

You held your composure as you sat down in an armchair facing the roaring hearth. 

The second the door to the study closed Margaery let out a flurry of expletives and demanded her father tell her the truth. 

Her father explained to her this was the best choice for their family and that they had even accommodated her desire for a nontraditional spouse.

Margaery hurled more expletives then declared she would never marry. 

She stormed out of the study and slammed the door behind her. 

Your gaze remained on the burning fire. 

It didn’t feel real.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get her on board,” Mace said and shook your father’s hand.

Then he and the rest of the Tyrells walked out.

It was just you and your father. 

He poured himself a glass of bourbon then sat in the armchair across from you. 

“You kept your composure out there. I’m proud of you (y/n).”

He took a long drink then pulled out a small box from his suit pocket. He handed it to you. 

You tore your gaze from the fire and looked at it. 

It was a ring box.

You took it and opened it. 

“Your grandmother’s ring, I’m sure she’d be proud,” your father told you. Then he took another drink. “It should be sufficient for the Tyrells.”

You shut the box and pocketed it. Then you looked up at your father. 

“May I be excused,” you asked.

He nodded. 

You stood and started for the door when he reached out and grabbed you by the wrist. 

You stopped and looked over at him. 

He cleared his throat. “You will marry her. If she won’t come around you need to find a way.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Yes father.”

He let go of your wrist and you walked out.

-

You needed air. You needed to be alone. 

So you walked towards the gardens. 

But as you did you passed by the foyer and noticed Aemond helping with Alicent’s coat.

Panic spread throughout your body. 

Had she heard?

You walked over to the door. 

“Leaving so soon,” you asked, hoping the panic didn’t come through in your voice.

Aemond met your gaze and stepped away from Alicent. He walked over to you and put a hand on your shoulder. 

“Mom’s not feeling so well,” Aemond explained. He gave your shoulder a squeeze. “But congrats on the engagement. You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone you dog,” he joked.

You turned to Alicent. 

She wouldn’t look at you. 

“I..,” you started but didn’t continue. 

What could you say? 

Not the truth. Your father would have your head.

So you stared at her, mouth agape, scrambling for a way to make her stay. 

Thankfully the universe intervened on your behalf.

For once it was on your side.

Your butler came through the front door with a severe look on his face. You looked at him and he met your gaze. 

“My apologies miss (y/n) but your guests won’t be able to leave,” he stated. 

Alicent looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

Your butler explained there had been a horrible landslide on the highway leading out of town. The officials had already been notified and first responders were on the scene but it would be hours before it would be safe to travel. 

Then he excused himself to let the others know.

Alicent turned to Aemond. “We will just have to stay at a hotel in town and leave tomorrow morning then.”

You shook your head. “Nonsense, you two can stay here with us. We have plenty of rooms.”

Alicent finally met your gaze. “You’re too kind (y/n) but we couldn’t ask that of you. We’ll be alright in town.”

“I have to insist that both of you stay. Think of it as repayment for letting me stay in your home last year,” you replied.

You could tell Alicent was trying to form a polite way to decline. 

Aemond looked between the two of you, his brow furrowed. 

You turned to Aemond. “It’s not a bother. I’d really like you both to stay the night.”

“Thank you for your offer (y/n),” Aemond said and turned to his mother. “We’ll stay here for the night then drive home in the morning.”

Alicent started to protest but Aemond had already asked you to lead the way.

-

You led Alicent and Aemond to the west wing of the estate where the guest rooms were. The house staff scurried to ready the rooms.

“Seems we won’t be the only ones staying,” Aemond commented.

“I doubt my father would let anyone try to go home in these conditions,” you replied. 

You showed Alicent her room first. 

She excused herself to freshen up before turning in.

Then you led Aemond to his room. 

It was just around the corner from Alicent’s.

You started to excuse yourself but Aemond reached out to stop you. 

“We have to talk,” he said.

By the tone of his voice you knew it was something serious.

Your stomach twisted at the thought.

You led Aemond inside his room and he closed the door behind him. 

“What did you want to talk about,” you asked.

He leaned against the wall. “I want the truth.”

“About what,” you asked, dread filling your chest. 

He scoffed. “You know exactly what.” Then he sighed and sat down on the bed. “I know something happened between you and my mother.”

Your stomach dropped. “What,” you choked out.

He shook his head softly. “Don’t deny it (y/n). You left our house in such a rush last year and nothing was the same afterwards.”

You remained silent.

Aemond crossed his arms against his chest. “When I told her about the party tonight she got so nervous and she fidgeted the whole way here.”

“I’m sure she was just nervous about what your grandfather would think. He hates my family after all,” you replied, hoping he would accept the lie like he had before. 

“No, I want the truth (y/n).” Then he met your gaze. “You owe me that…we were best friends once, weren’t we?”

Your heart broke at the sound of his voice. You looked down at the floor in shame. “Yeah,” you replied, defeated.

“Then tell me what happened,” Aemond pleaded.

You sighed and sat down next to Aemond on the bed. You told him the truth. You told him you and Alicent had slept together. You told him it wasn’t because of the bet the two of you had made. You had always thought his mom was beautiful and that night…well one thing led to another.

“I suspected as much,” Aemond breathed with a sigh when you finished. 

“I told you it had all been a lie because she wanted us to act like nothing had happened. I had already told you so I thought you’d believe it was just a joke.” You continued, your thumb still toying with the loose strand on your trousers. 

“Is that why you pulled away from me when classes started again,” Aemond asked and turned to you. 

You looked over at him. “Not explicitly but maybe subconsciously.”

Aemond nodded slowly. “I noticed and I wanted to say something but when I realized my mother was also acting strange I just froze. I wasn’t sure what to do or say.”

A moment of silence passed between you.

“Maybe that’s also why I pulled away, especially once Alys and I got together,” Aemond wondered aloud. 

“I’m sorry for lying to you Aemond but it wasn’t my place to out anyone,” you told him.

Aemond looked down at his hands. “Do you have feelings for my mother?” Then he looked over at you again. “Real feelings,” he clarified.

You smiled earnestly. “I do.” Then you sighed. “I haven’t stopped thinking about her once since last Christmas.”

“My mother had a very traditional, conservative, upbringing. If she is bi, or gay, or whatever she might be…it would be hard for her to accept that about herself. It would be hard for her to be anything but what my grandfather had told her to be,” Aemond confessed.

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I understand that more than ever.”

Aemond eyed you, confused. 

“I didn’t know I’d end up engaged tonight,” you told him.

“Really?”

You nodded. “I just met the girl. I had no idea my father had plans to marry me off.”

“Do you have feelings for her?” He asked cautiously.

“No, but that doesn’t matter to my father.” You sighed and stood up. 

“What are you going to do?” Aemond stood as well.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t seem happy about our engagement either but my father has ordered me to get her on board if her family can’t convince her.”

Aemond frowned. “That’s fucked.”

“Beyond fucked,”  you replied with a laugh.

Aemond ran a hand through his hair. “Why not just tell your father you won’t do it?”

You shook your head. “I can’t. My father would never forgive me. They’d disown me again.”

“You lived through banishment once,” Aemond countered.

“Yeah but I had friends. I had you,” you replied then wrapped your arms around yourself. “I haven’t spoken or seen any of my friends since graduation. Half of them didn’t even pick up the phone when I called to invite them tonight. If I lose my family again, I have no one.”

Aemond reached out and gave your shoulders a squeeze. “You still have me,” he said with a hopeful smile.

You smiled back at him. “Thanks.”

A knock at the door startled you. 

One of your staff walked in and informed you that your mother was looking for you.

You thanked her and she excused herself. 

You told Aemond someone would come by with spare night clothes then excused yourself.

-

You found your mother in the hall, showing a few family friends where to find their rooms. She told you to go to your father’s study so you made your way back there.

Once inside you saw Margaery and her family gathered there with your father. 

Your father sat at his desk. He stood when you walked in. 

“Wonderful news (y/n),” he said and instructed you to sit next to Margaery on the chaise.

Margaery’s father informed you that Margaery had come around to the engagement.

“Let’s leave the brides to get to know one another,” your father declared then he led Mace Tyrell out the door.

Margaery’s other family members followed and soon you were alone with her once again.

“Did you know,” Margaery asked in a hushed voice.

You sighed. “No. It was a surprise to me too.”

Margaery looked over at you. “I would’ve never guessed. You handled it so well.”

“My family is all about their image. I’m a well trained dog,” you replied, not meeting her gaze. 

“Why aren’t you angry,” Margaery asked, a pensive look on her face. 

“There’s no point,” you confessed. “My father always gets what he wants.”

Margaery folded one leg over the other. “And what would he do if he didn’t?” 

“Probably disown me, again,” you replied, tired. 

“He disowned you?” Margaery’s eyes widened.

You nodded. “Once. It was horrible, and lonely.”

“That sounds awful,” Margaery said and placed a comforting hand on your knee.

You shrugged. Then you turned to her. “Wouldn’t your family do the same?”

“No, never.”

You furrowed your brows. “Then why are you going through with this?”

Margaery looked away from you then bit the corner of her lip. “Can I trust you?”

“Of course.”

“We’re broke,” Margaery said with a sigh.

“You’re broke?”

“Mhm, and we need your family to help us through it.”

You looked down and noticed the outline of the ring box in your trouser pocket. “I see.”

Your father had probably left you alone so you could give Margaery the ring. You reached in your pocket then turned to Margaery.

When you looked over at her you noticed something in her gaze softened. She titled her head to the side. 

“Maybe we could grow to love one another,” Margaery said and ran her thumb across your cheek. “You’re quite easy on the eyes (y/n).”

You smiled and let out a nervous laugh. “Thank you, but I have to be honest with you. Since you were honest with me.”

Margaery dropped her hand from your face. “What is it? You don’t think I’m pretty?”

You dropped the ring box back in your pocket and put a hand up towards Margaery. Your brows shot up. 

“Oh no, it’s not that. You’re gorgeous Margaery, it's just that…my heart is spoken for.”

“Oh,” she replied, a bit of disappointment laced in her voice.

You smiled softly. “I’m sure we’ll be great friends Margaery, and I’ll come to care deeply for you in our marriage but I could never be in love with you,” you confessed. 

“If someone has already claimed your heart, why aren’t you with them?”

“That’s a long story,” you said with a sigh. 

Margaery stood and poured you both drinks from your father’s bar. 

“Your father said to get acquainted so..” she said and handed you a drink. “Let’s get acquainted.”

So you told her everything. 

When you finished Margaery let out a deep breath. 

“(y/n) you poor, darling, idiot. Fucking your best friend’s mother…even I haven’t done that,” she said.

“I did worse than that Margaery. I fell in love with her,” you replied. 

Margaery wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “A hopeless romantic,” she teased with a small smile. 

You smiled back. “Thanks for listening to me go on and on.”

“What are fiancé’s for?” Margaery joked. Then she gave your cheek a quick pinch. “I think we will be the best of friends (y/n).”

You laced your hand with hers. “I agree.” You gave her hand a squeeze. “And the best part is I will be happy to hear all about your romantic and sexual dalliances during our marriage, as long as you keep them quiet, what with the family image to uphold,” you joked. 

Margaery laughed. “Of course.”

A servant came in and informed Margaery her family was leaving via helicopter. The two of you hugged and said your goodbyes.

You walked out to the ballroom where everyone was slowly clearing out for the night. You grabbed an unopened bottle of champagne and made your way to your room.

-

A whole bottle of champagne later you laid in your bed and stared at the ceiling. 

You were really going to marry a complete stranger.

And for what?

Your father’s pride?

You sighed and got ready for bed.

But sleep wouldn’t come.

You tossed and turned for hours until you gave up and decided to get some fresh air. 

You wrapped your robe tightly around you and slipped on your outdoor slippers. 

Just as you started for the door your eye caught on your grandmother’s ring. You grabbed the box and slipped it in your robe pocket.

-

The night air was crisp. It felt good against your skin.

You took a deep breath as you made your way through the garden.

You sat down in front of the small fountain. The stars twinkled overhead.

You thumbed the ring box in the pocket of your robe. 

You brought it out and opened it. 

You ran your finger over the diamonds. 

Soon tears pooled in your eyes. 

Your future was set.

You’d marry Margaery. Your father would want heirs so you’d probably have kids. You’d work at your father’s company until you retired. Then you’d sit all alone in your estate as your kids and Margaery all lived their own lives. 

Tears started to cloud your vision.

A slave to your family name.

The tears spilled over. You wiped them away with the sleeve of your robe.

You froze when you heard footsteps behind you. 

You stood up and faced the hedges. 

“Who is there,” you asked as you shoved the ring box back in your robe.

It was quiet for a moment.

Then she walked out from the shadows. 

Alicent stopped just short of where you stood. 

“Who’s the peeping tom now,” you joked.

A small smile spread across Alicent’s face. 

But it was gone just as quickly as it had come.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I couldn’t sleep so I came out for some air. I…I’ll go,” Alicent said and turned her back to you.

You reached out and grabbed her hand. 

“Don’t, please,” you begged.

Alicent didn’t meet your gaze but she gave a small nod. 

You sat back down on the bench and she sat on the other side of it.

“What brings you out here so late,” Alicent asked.

You sighed. “Everything.”

Alicent turned her head towards you. “Are you alright (y/n)?”

You shook your head. Then you brought out the ring box. 

Alicent’s gaze shifted towards the ring box. 

You opened it and showed it to her. “It was my grandmother’s.”

Alicent took it and ran her finger across the diamond. “It’s beautiful.”

“My father handed it to me and said my grandmother would be proud,” you recalled with a sigh.

Alicent handed the box back to you. “I’m sure she would be.”

You pocketed the box and let out a scoff. “What would she be proud of?” 

You stood and walked to the fountain. You looked down at your reflection in the water, the moon high above you. 

“I’m going to marry a woman I don’t know and don’t love for my father’s sake… My grandmother would’ve called me a coward,” you finished and turned to look at Alicent. 

She furrowed her brow. “You don’t know her?”

You shook your head then sat down next to Alicent on the bench, your body facing hers. “I just met her tonight.”

“Oh,” Alicent responded, she looked away from you but you noticed a shy smile prying at her lips.

You looked down at your hands, a smile on your face.

“You know she caused such a scene in my father’s study that I thought her family would break off the engagement.” 

You let out a small laugh at the memory of Margaery cursing in front of your father.

Alicent turned back to face you. “A scene,” she asked.

You nodded. “Our engagement was a surprise to her as well. She was not on board,” you explained. 

“What changed?” Alicent tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear.

You remembered how soft her hair had felt in your fingers. You wished to reach out and touch her but you knew better.

So you looked away from her and took a steadying breath.

“I spoke with her, alone, and she explained that her family is in financial hardship and needs my family name to get through it.” 

You looked up and met Alicent’s gaze. The moonlight washed over her porcelain skin. She looked positively angelic. 

“I wanted to explain to you,” you started. “I didn’t want you to think what I said in the garden was a lie.”

Alicent softened. She reached out and touched the top of your hand. “I know your heart.”

You turned your hand over and laced your fingers with hers. You stroked the palm of her hand with your thumb.

After a moment in comfortable silence Alicent let out a breath and spoke. 

“So you’re moving forward with the engagement?”

You shrugged. “What else can I do?”

Alicent brought your hand into her lap. “Surely your father would understand if you couldn’t go through with it?”

“Would yours?”

Alicent didn’t reply. 

You looked over at Alicent. “What did it feel like…being in an arranged marriage?” 

“It’s hard,” Alicent said with an exasperated breath. She closed her eyes. “You try to love them but so much of it feels hollow.” 

Alicent opened her eyes and turned to you. 

Tears had started to pool in your eyes. 

Alicent reached out and cupped your cheek. “I don’t mean to scare you (y/n). Maybe it’ll be different for you,” she said, trying to comfort you.

A stray tear fell down your cheek. 

You pulled away from Alicent and stood back up. 

“It’ll be worse,” you muttered as you walked back over to the fountain.

Alicent stood up and followed you. “Don’t say that,” she chided and placed a hand on your shoulder. “She’s a beautiful girl. I’m sure you’ll grow to love her.”

You clenched your jaw then turned around. “She’s not you,” you confessed. 

Alicent’s brows shot up. “I-.”

“I’m in love with you Alicent. Being with anyone else will be torture,” you told her. You reached out and took her by the hands. You brought them to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “I love you,” you murmured into them.

Alicent turned her head and pulled her hands away. “(y/n), please don’t.”

You stepped closer to her, close enough to smell her perfume. 

“I’m going to marry someone I will never be able to love. Please…please let me tell you exactly how I feel about you,” you pleaded. 

Alicent met your gaze. 

Your faces just a breath apart from one another. 

“It wouldn’t change anything,” Alicent replied.

“You’re right,” you let out a small sigh. Then you looked down and remembered the ring box in your pocket. 

Alicent hooked her finger under your chin and brought your gaze back up to her. “You’ll be alright.”

You looked into Alicent’s eyes, and couldn’t stop yourself from leaning forward. 

Your lips met hers. 

Alicent cupped your cheek and softly pulled away. 

“We can’t,” she whispered. 

You leaned into her touch and closed your eyes.  “I love you.”

Alicent dropped her hand from your face. “Stop saying that.”

You opened your eyes and frowned. “Why?”

Alicent turned away from you and wrapped her arms around herself. She was quiet.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable Alicent,” you apologized. 

“It’s not that,” Alicent turned back around. She rubbed her arms for warmth.

You undid your robe and wrapped it around her shoulders. 

“You’re too kind (y/n).” 

Alicent pulled the robe tighter around her.  

“You deserve all the kindness in the world,” you replied, a rueful smile on your face.

Alicent looked up at the sky and shook her head softly. She looked back at you and bit her lip. 

There was something in her gaze you couldn’t quite read. 

“What is it,” you asked her. 

“I love you too,” she declared with tears in her eyes. 

You stepped closer. “What…”

Alicent wiped away the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes. 

“I have not stopped thinking of you since that night.”

You closed the gap between you. “Really?”

Alicent nodded, not trusting her voice. 

You cupped her face with your hands. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you call or text or-,” you rambled. 

“Because it doesn’t matter how we feel. You said it yourself, we are slaves to our family names,” Alicent replied as tears fell down the sides of her face.

You wiped the tears away as they fell. 

“It does matter. It matters to me,” you whispered. 

Alicent leaned into your touch. 

You brought your face closer and leaned your forehead against hers. 

You dropped your hands from her face and wrapped them around her waist.

She buried her face in the crook of your shoulder. 

You kissed the side of her head. “You know, I was never sure if you felt the same as I did. Sometimes I thought I tricked you into sleeping with me and had imagined any affection you had for me.”

Alicent pulled away just enough to look you in the eye. 

“You showed me exactly what I had felt missing my whole life,” she declared.

Then she leaned forwards and brought her lips against yours. 

Her kiss was timid but determined. She wrapped her arms around your neck and brought your face closer to hers. 

You deepened the kiss and pressed her body against yours. 

Desire started to pool between your thighs at the welcomed memory of Alicent's body against your own.

So you pulled away, just enough to speak. 

“I need you Ali,” you whispered, breath ragged and spent.

Alicent stared into your eyes. 

You noticed how dark her eyes had become. 

She nodded and you led her back to your room.

-

Hours, and more than a handful of orgasms, later Alicent laid her head on your chest and smiled as your breathing steadied.

She laced her fingers with yours. 

You smiled up at the ceiling as you ran your hands through her hair. It was just as soft as you remembered.

Alicent lifted her head and looked up at you. “You look lost in thought.”

You looked down at her and smiled. “I’m just so happy right now.”

Alicent kissed your collarbone. “I am too,” she confessed. 

You twirled a lock of her hair around your finger. “You’re so beautiful.”

She buried her face in your chest but you caught the blush in her cheeks before she did so. 

It brought a satisfied smirk to your lips.

The first streaks of dawn started to filter through the heavy curtains of your windows. 

Alicent looked up and realized the time. 

“I should get back to my own room,” she said and started to collect herself. 

And just like that your carriage had turned into a pumpkin.

You sighed.

“Can’t we just stay in bed a while longer.”

You sat up and watched as she put on the pajamas your staff had given her. 

“We have to face reality at some point (y/n),” she said and walked back over to the bed. She gave you a quick peck on your lips.

You caught her arm just as soon as she pulled away. She stopped and looked down at you. 

You threw your legs over the side of the bed and pulled her in between your legs. 

“Who says we have to do that?” 

Alicent smiled languidly. “I would love nothing more than to stay in your bed with you until the end of time but-”

You grabbed her hands and kissed each palm. “But nothing…just stay a little longer,” you begged. 

Alicent let out a deep sigh but the smile remained on her face. “Fine,” she resigned in fake annoyance. 

You gave her hands a gentle squeeze then looked down at them. You ran your thumb over her ring finger on her left hand.

“You know, my grandmother’s ring would look good on you,” you mused aloud.

Alicent pulled her hand away and stepped back. “That’s cruel,” she snapped.

The air in the room changed in an instant.

You stood and followed her. You put your hands on her arms and she turned around.

“I’m sorry,” you started. 

Alicent sighed then her shoulders sagged. “It’s fine I just don’t like thinking of things that can never be,” she reasoned.

You turned and noticed your discarded robe on the edge of the bed. You picked it up and pulled out the ring box.

Why couldn’t it? You thought to yourself.

Your father would hate you.

But you’d have Alicent.

You’d have Alicent…she just needed to say yes.

You opened the ring box then turned back to Alicent. 

She eyed you curiously. 

You got down on one knee.

Alicent’s eyes widened. “(y/n),” she started.

“Marry me,” you declared and held the ring towards her.

“You can’t be serious,” she stuttered. 

You stood and looked her in the eyes. “Now that I know you feel the same as I do, I can’t marry Margaery. The only woman I want to be with is you,” you declared.

Alicent’s mouth fell open. “I- I don’t know what to say. (y/n) we hardly know each other.”

You shrugged. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another.” You got down on one knee again. “So say yes,” you urged.

Alicent walked to the other side of the room. “It would never work,” she argued. Then she started to pace about the room. “I’m a widow with three grown children. What would they say if we married? You have your whole life ahead of you (y/n).” Alicent stopped pacing and looked at you, her anxiety and fear written all over her face. “Your father will disown you.”

You walked to where Alicent stood and smiled at her. “I don’t care what others will say. I don’t care if my father disowns me. I don’t care if they take my inheritance away.” 

“But (y/n),” Alicent started to protest but you held up a hand to stop her.

“I love you. I want to be with you. Do you want to be with me?”

Alicent held your gaze. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “More than I’ve ever been before.”

Alicent bit the inside of her cheek. Then she looked down at her hands, she nervously toyed with them. 

“Everything would change. I’m scared,” Alicent whispered.

“I can be brave enough for the both of us,” you said and brought her gaze back up to meet yours. 

You gave her a tender kiss then stroked her bottom lip with your thumb. 

“Please, let me love you the way you deserve. Let me fill your days with joy and your nights with endless bliss,” you professed.

Alicent let out a great sigh then let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t deserve you (y/n).”

You shook your head. “Yes you do.”

Alicent kissed your lips, then your cheeks, then your forehead. 

You laughed then got back down on one knee. “Let’s try this again,” you joked. 

Alicent smiled down at you. 

You took the ring from the box and held it up towards Alicent. “Alicent Hightower, will you do me the absolute honor of marrying me?”

“Yes,” Alicent replied, tears in her eyes. 

You stood and slipped the ring onto her finger. Then you brought her hand up to your lips and kissed her knuckles. 

Alicent took a steadying breath then wiped the tears from her eyes. She admired the ring on her finger. 

Then her smile dropped. 

She looked up at you. 

“What are we going to tell Aemond?”

“We’ll tell him he can call me Mom,” you joked with a smirk. 

Alicent’s smile returned. She swatted at your arm. “You’re impossible.”

You brought her lips to yours and slowly drifted back to your bed. It would be another couple hours before either of you got back up.

-

Aemond sat at the foot of the bed, stupefied. 

“You’re marrying my mother,” he asked aloud.

You sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re damn right I am, son.”

Aemond’s face soured at the sound of the word. 

“Do not call me that ever again.”

You laughed. “Fine, but I won’t mind if you call me Mom.”

Aemond shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

Then the two of you went out to find Alicent and break the news to your family. It didn’t matter if they hated you. It didn’t matter if they disowned you. You had Alicent and you had Aemond. You would have a new family.

[starfacedstudio]

ID: A splash image featuring several colorful cyclops characters, each divided by geometric gutters - forming a tall diamond shape in the middle with two divides on each side for a total of seven frames. Each panel features a single character and is rendered in pseudo-monochromatic colors to represent each character as a different color within a rainbow. End ID.

big ol splash image time.... i made this back in march and boy did my blood and sweat and tears go into getting this thing done on a tight ass deadline!!!! a very emotional grind it took to get this thing done but im still very happy with it :)

[regular-lord-reckoner]

i am so glad this week is finally (almost) over

i had an appointment with my pcp on monday to see about this possible kidney stone situation

they did a urinalysis on me and sure enough i do have some blood in my urine so that plus the pain means it's likely there's a stone, but i'm in a situation again where i haven't had any pain for days so it's like...that's not good !! (especially since this has been going on for a few months at this point !)

they ordered me a ct scan which i had today so i'm hoping maybe sometime tomorrow i'll get the results of that and we can maybe figure out what's going on

i also had a dentist appointment on wednesday but it was just a cleaning and my dentist said everything looks good. it is kinda funny because i was actually supposed to have this appointment months ago but decided to reschedule because i had too much going on that week and so it got pushed out until now and then i end up having even more shit to do this week than i did back then so...oh well !! it's finally done

and tomorrow i've gotta do some of my usual errands (mostly taking the garbage off and getting a few things from the grocery store) and then i think i'll finally be done !! hopefully !!

hope you have a good, restful weekend coming up if you're reading this !! <3

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[cowboybeepboop]

Late Night

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut, gentle and romantic

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Your friendly neighbor Clark Kent comes to your door one evening, allowing for the two of you to finally grow your relationship.

Warnings: This is not proofread what so ever, gentle/sort of shy Clark, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, p in v sex. 

a/n: Idk rn but I genuinely can't wait for David Corenswet to be Superman (Henry Cavill is so hot tho...). I’m already imagining how perfect he's gonna be as Clark Kent. As always, send me any requests you have and I hope you enjoy!

For months now, you had been quietly pining for the man who lived across the hall from me in our unassuming apartment building. His name was Clark Kent, and there was something about him that was utterly endearing. It wasn't just his chiseled jawline or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but the kindness he exuded, the way he always had a helping hand ready for anyone in need. 

You had become something like friends, sharing the occasional awkward small talk as we passed by with our shopping bags or recyclables. You had seen him in various stages of undress, coming back from his midnight runs, his superhero-like physique hidden under loose-fitting t-shirts and sweatpants. 

Something that had fueled your evening pleasure sessions, everytime your eyes fell closed you could remember the image of his hardened abs, his huge and muscular arms. 

On a warm summer evening, there was a knock at your door. It was Clark, the guy from across the hall. He stood there sheepishly, his hand running through his black hair. 

He wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned and messy. He held a bottle of wine in one hand. "Hey", he said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I was wondering if I could get a favor?"

“Sure what’s up?” you give him a small smile, your eyes fall on his exposed chest before quickly flicking back to his face. His heart rate increased as he realized that you could see through the thin fabric of his shirt the toned muscles of his chest covered in a light layer of hair.

He cleared his throat, composing himself, holding up the bottle of wine. "I, umm, I was wondering if I could borrow your corkscrew. I lost mine."

“Yeah, of course. Come on in.” you move to the side, allowing him to come in. Your mind clouding with desire as he towers over you, his cologne filling your senses. 

He steps into your apartment, the tight space meaning his body brushes against yours slightly as he passes. The contact between you both is brief, but it's enough to send a shiver down his spine as he enters.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you realize your own appearance, wearing just a button down top that is unbuttoned enough for him to see your cleavage and your underwear. You awkwardly lead him to the kitchen, arm subconsciously moving to cover your breasts as you turn around, handing him the corkscrew. 

"Uh, thanks." He says as he takes the corkscrew from you. Even with your arm draped over yourself, he can't help but notice the glimpse of exposed skin, his eyes lingering before he catches himself and averts his gaze, forcing himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

He starts to open up the bottle, the action allowing him to look away from your figure for a moment and compose himself, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to concentrate. 

Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing over his. “Oh yeah this thing is weird, you kinda have to do it a particular way.” you murmur, taking the bottle from him as you fumble with the screw. 

He bites his lip as your fingers brush over his, his stomach swirling at the touch of your hand. He watches as you take the bottle from him, his eyes fixated on your every movement as you try to open the bottle.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice low and a bit shaky. His eyes wander down, his gaze drawn to the way your top fits, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. 

“Mhm,” you reply as you pull the cork out, a small splash of wine staining your collar. You bite down on your lip while setting the bottle down, fingers rubbing the fabric. His eyes widen slightly as he watches the droplet of wine slide down your collar, the stains on the fabric making it even more translucent. 

Clark swallows hard, his mind wandering to inappropriate and ungentlemanly thoughts. He clears his throat, trying to look away, but he can't help but notice the way your fingers are now rubbing at the fabric, the motion only drawing his attention further to your chest.

You glance over him, hand falling from your shirt as you give him a soft grin, noticing the way his gaze lingers. 

His gaze flicks up to meet yours, his cheeks flushed. He realizes he's been caught staring, his eyes having been fixated on the way your hand moves over the fabric of your shirt, the motion stirring something deep within him.

"I, umm..." he stutters, his words failing him as he feels his throat dry up. He swallows slowly, forcing himself to focus on something else. "Thanks, for helping me open the bottle," he manages to say.  He shifts on his feet, trying to discreetly adjust himself as he feels his jeans becoming a bit tighter.

“Of course, do you want to share the bottle? Or do you have someone waiting for you?” you move slightly closer to him. 

His heart quickens as you come closer, his mouth going dry as your proximity makes it all that much more difficult to concentrate. He glances down at the bottle sitting on the counter, his mind racing with desire and indecision.

"No," he says, his voice low and a bit huskier than usual. "There's no one waiting for me." He looks back up at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of nervousness and something more forbidden. "I'd like to share the bottle with you."

“Perfect.” You smile, stepping closer as you reach for the cabinet behind him, your chest pressing into his ever so slightly. You open the door, reaching for two glasses ​​his breath hitches as he feels your body press against him, the sensation sending a jolt of heat through him. 

Your chest rubs against his, and he can feel the weight and softness of you against his body. The proximity is driving him mad, his mind clouded by primal desires he's trying to keep in check.

He bites his lip, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the counter, trying to maintain his composure. His eyes flutter shut for a moment before he opens them again, his gaze fixed on your every move.

You step back, with the glasses in hand. “We could watch a movie?” you prompt as you pour some wine into the cups, silently enjoying the way he reacted to your touch. 

He nods, his mind still racing as he tries to calm his racing thoughts and the growing hardness in his pants. "Yeah, a movie sounds good," he mutters, his voice coming out a bit more hoarse than he'd liked.

As you pour the wine, his eyes follow your every move, the way your fingers grip the bottle, the way the liquid flows into the glasses. It's all too tantalizing for him. "What do you feel like watching?" He asks, trying to keep his voice level and casual.

“How about you choose?” you hand him a glass, taking yours in hand along with the bottle as you walk into the living room. Taking a seat down on the couch you sip on the wine, your eyes follow his every move, drinking in his muscular form. 

He tries to stay composed, forcing himself to look away and focus on the task at hand. Clark walks over to the DVD collection and scans the titles, his mind unfocused and his thoughts still lingering on you. After a moment of browsing, he picks a movie at random, inserting it into the player.

"All set." He says, returning to the couch and taking a seat beside you. You pull at the hem of your shirt, trying to prevent it from riding up too much while taking another sip of your drink. 

“Great.” you smile, sucking your lip between your teeth as you admire his side profile. He can't help but notice the way you fidget with your shirt, the action drawing his mind to places he shouldn't be going at the moment. 

He struggles to keep his eyes focused on the screen, his gaze keeping wandering over to you, admiring your features and the way the fabric clings to your body. Clark takes a long sip from his glass, the alcohol doing little to calm his racing thoughts and desires. He shifts in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself as his jeans grow even tighter.

“Is everything alright?” you notice his movements and set your cup on the coffee table, scooting slightly closer to him. His eyes widen slightly as you move closer, the proximity sending a fresh wave of desire through him. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yeah," he responds, his voice a little hoarse. "Everything's fine, just...adjusting." He glances over at you, his gaze lingering on your figure, his eyes tracing over the curves where your shirt clings to you, the way your position inadvertently exposes more skin.

“Clark?” your knee brushes against his thigh as you scoot closer. He stiffens as your knee brushes against him, the casual touch sending a jolt through him. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as he tries to maintain his composure.

When he hears his name, the way you say it, so soft and gentle, almost a whisper, it sends a shiver down his spine. He looks over at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with desire. "Yeah?" He manages to respond, his voice a bit shaky.

“Are you.. seeing anyone?” you chew on your cheek as you search his eyes. At your question, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crosses his face. He holds your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity.

"No," he says finally, his voice steady and sincere. "I'm not seeing anyone." He swallows, his nerves getting the better of him as he wonders where this conversation is going. He can't help but feel a flicker of hope and anxiety at the same time.

Your eyes light up as you press a hand to his thigh, “Then… well I hope i’m not misreading the situation,” you murmur, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It's unexpected, but oh so welcome. 

His eyes widen for a brief moment, before closing as he melts into the kiss. Every cell in his body seems to come alive, the taste of your lips on his sending him into a dizzying spiral of emotions.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his touch gentle as he leans into the kiss, deepening it as he loses himself in the moment. His tongue brushes over your bottom lip as he presses his chest against yours, pushing your back into the plush fabric of your couch. 

Your bodies meld together, your back sinking into the cushion as he bears down on you. His tongue teases your lip, requesting entry which you give him without hesitation.

His heart races as he feels the soft give of your body against his chest, the heat and pressure of your bodies mingling together.

His hand runs over your side, his touch gentle but firm as it moves over the curves of your body, his hand sneaking under the fabric of your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his. You lean back, gasping for air as his fingers explore your body. 

He takes your gasp as an opportunity to trail his lips along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as he nips and kisses his way down your neck.

His hand moves under your shirt, slowly, his fingertips dancing across your bare skin, mapping out each contour and dip of your body. He groans softly against your throat as he feels your warm, supple flesh under his fingers. You feel so good against him, it's almost overwhelming.

“Clark..” you gasp his name as he unbuttons your shirt swiftly. He loves the way you say his name, the sound of it coming from your lips making his own name sound like a prayer.

He unfastens the buttons of your shirt, revealing more and more of your body to his hungry eyes. He peels back the fabric, his hands roaming over your now-exposed skin, his fingers tracing over your stomach and up to your chest.

He presses his mouth to your collarbone, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, tasting your scent, committing it to memory. “Clark..” you moan his name again, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he kisses down your chest, hands landing on your breasts. 

His name slips from your lips again, the sound like a sweet melody in his ears. He can feel the pressure of your fingers on his shoulders, the touch driving his desire even higher.

His mouth travels down your chest, his kisses feather light and seductive as he moves over your breasts. His hands follow his mouth, palms cupping your breasts as he starts to massage the soft flesh.

He moans against your skin, his touch almost reverent. His body thrums with an aching need, the desire to be closer to you nearly overwhelming as he captures your lips in another hungry kiss. He cups your breasts in his hands, his fingers kneading the supple flesh as they press into your skin. His touch is soft but firm, his hands large enough to cover them completely

Clark pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping his eyes locked with yours. His breath is ragged, his chest heaving with anticipation. He can feel your heart racing beneath his palms as he gently caresses your breasts. "Are you sure about this?" He whispers, his voice thick with desire. "I don't want to rush you." His eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

You smile up at him, placing a soft hand on his cheek. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur. The sincerity in your tone sends a thrill through him, confirming that this is what you both want.

He nods, his expression serious as he leans back down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. He savors the taste of you, the feel of your body pressed against his. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, cradling it as he deepens the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

As the kiss lingers, he slowly starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, taking his time to reveal each new inch of your skin. His eyes never leave yours, watching for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. You melt into him, your own hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as the fabric of your shirt falls away.

The moment your skin is fully exposed, the air in the room seems to crackle with tension. He leans down to press a line of soft, wet kisses along your collarbone, feeling your body shiver beneath his touch. He takes a moment to just look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Your cheeks flush with pleasure as he says the words, his eyes devouring your exposed flesh. He takes his time, kissing and caressing every inch of your body, his hands moving in a slow, tantalizing dance that leaves you trembling with need. Each touch is a promise of what's to come, each kiss a declaration of his desire for you.

The room is filled with the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft whispers of your names on each other's lips. The anticipation is almost unbearable, but you both know that the slow burn of this moment is only making the fire between you grow hotter.

Clark finally takes one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling gently as he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You arch your back, gasping at the sensation, your hands tightening in his hair. He teases and worships each peak, his tongue swirling and flicking, drawing out your moans of pleasure.

As you lay there, the warmth of his mouth on your skin, the softness of the couch beneath you, and the gentle pressure of his body above, you can't help but feel that this is exactly where you're meant to be. With each tender kiss and caress, he's claiming you, and you're willingly giving yourself to him.

The movie on the TV becomes background noise as the only thing that matters is the connection growing stronger between you both. His kisses trail down your stomach, his hands skimming over your hips to the waistband of your underwear.

He kisses the skin just above the waistband, the heat of his breath making you squirm. "I want to make this perfect for you," he murmurs, his eyes looking up at you for approval. You nod, unable to form words as your breath catches in your throat.

He takes his time, pulling down your underwear in one smooth motion, exposing your most intimate parts to his gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he looks at you, but he keeps his touches feather-light, his mouth hovering just above your skin without making contact.

Clark takes a deep breath, savoring the moment as he gazes down at your exposed body. He gently kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs, moving closer to the apex of your legs. His eyes are filled with a fiery hunger that makes your heart race even faster. He presses a soft kiss to your mound, feeling you tense up at the contact. 

Then, with a gentle caress, he parts your legs wider, his gaze never leaving yours. You can see the desire in his eyes, and it only fuels the fire burning within you. With a soft sigh, he lowers his mouth to you, his tongue tracing the seam of your folds with the lightest touch. You moan, your body trembling as he starts to explore you, taking his time to learn every curve and sensitive spot. 

Each touch is a declaration of his intention to worship you, to take things slow and savor every second of this shared intimacy. His fingers join his mouth, gently teasing and exploring, bringing you closer to the edge with every stroke. The room is filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and soft whimpers, the only soundtrack to this passionate symphony of desire.

Clark continues his gentle exploration, his tongue circling your clit with a patience that borders on agonizing. He's not in a hurry; he wants to savor every moment of this, to make sure you feel loved and desired. His fingers slide into your wetness, curling gently as he begins to stroke you internally, matching the rhythm of his tongue. 

You can't help but whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as the sensations build within you. He's so attentive, so in tune with your body's responses that you feel like you're floating on a cloud of pure pleasure. Each kiss, each caress is a testament to the connection growing between you, and you know that this is just the beginning of a night that will change everything.

Clark's eyes never leave yours as he shifts his position, aligning his body with yours. His hand moves to guide himself, and with a gentle nod from you, he begins to press into you. His movements are slow and deliberate, his expression one of intense concentration as he tries to read your every reaction. You can feel the tip of him pushing against your entrance, the anticipation of what's to come making you squirm.

As he enters you, he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a soothing balm to the building passion. He's so big, so thick, but he's so gentle that it's almost a surprise when he's fully sheathed inside you. You gasp, your eyes flying open, and he stills, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation of being filled by him.

He waits, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain or discomfort. When he sees none, he starts to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that makes your toes curl. Each thrust is met with a soft moan from your lips, his name slipping from your mouth like a prayer as he fills you completely.

The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's as if your bodies are made for this, as if every inch of him is meant to be connected to every inch of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down to grip his firm ass as he moves within you.

The room seems to spin around you, the only constant is the feeling of him, the sound of your hearts beating in sync. He kisses you again, his movements becoming more urgent as the passion takes over. You can feel him thickening, growing even more inside you, and you know that he's getting closer to the edge.

You whisper for him to go faster, to give you more, and he responds eagerly, his strokes deepening and quickening. Your body responds in kind, your hips rising to meet his, the friction between you building until it's almost unbearable. You're both so close, the tension coiled tight in your stomachs, ready to snap.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, it does. You cry out, your body arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows shortly after, his own release shaking his body as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

For a moment, you just lay there, your bodies entwined, your hearts racing. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any signs of regret. But all he sees is pure satisfaction, a mirror to what's reflected in his own gaze. He leans down to kiss you gently, a soft promise of more to come.

[hurlingdown]

        BEAST FEAST ! — RYŌMEN SUKUNA.

synopsis. sukuna misses his mate so much that it begins to physically affect his vessel's body. they set off on a little mission in search of you, only to find themselves walking riiight into your waiting jaws. wc. 4.2k

tags. dom beast! reader, bottom! sukuna. reader has a cock. oviposition (eggs), size difference, large cock, i'm not joking around that thing is fucking ginormous, belly bulge, monsterfucking, cum inflation, breeding kink, mpreg, knotting, biting, rough anal sex, warning: sukuna's huge tits, appropriate amount of clothes-ripping, multiple orgasms, creampie, sukuna's hole leaks slick, soft & needy sukuna.

a/n. inspired by this ask. thank you for the wonderful thirst <3

Sukuna was a predator. He did not fear, did not run from measly little things like monsters, because hardly anything could be more terrifying than he was. 

But for the first time in his life, he felt like he was prey. 

Hulking, sharp teeth bared, and with four piercing slit-like eyes, you rose to your full height, a low growl sounding at the back of your throat. Primal hunger radiated from your entire being as you stalked closer and closer, horns lowered in a position ready to strike, your tail whipping the jagged ends of the cave, sending little sparks alive. 

“S-Sukuna, I think we should leave...” Yuuji stammered, starting to back out, but his cheek split open at once and a mouth appeared, snarling out a command to stay. 

“Let me take over,” Sukuna muttered. “I will handle this, brat.” 

Yuuji looked hesitant about giving up control on his body. Still, there were little options to pick and choose from at the moment, and the beast, you, was approaching them with haste. Each heavy step you took announced your presence, causing the ground to quake, crushed rock particles raining down like fine powder. 

Your eyes narrowed in onto the human at the mouth of the cave, no larger than one-fifth of your size, nor taller. Something coursed through you, sharp and warm and instantaneous, like static electricity. 

Familiarity. 

You came to a halt in front of him as tribal tattoos materialised on his skin, stretching across the expanse of his handsome face and dipping into his clothed chest. Two dark bands wrapped themselves around each of his wrists, and you watched intensely as he raised one (not six)—slowly, as to not threaten you, fist unfurling into a gentle hand to press against the side of your muzzle. 

Dark red eyes stared up at you with a bored expression. 

“Silly dog,” Sukuna cooed, fond. 

All of this was familiar territory, and you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck. He was looking at you like he knew what you wanted, too. 

“Sukuna,” you growled, nuzzling into his hand, and he shuddered. 

Closing his eyes, he curled a palm around one of your horns, bringing you down to press his forehead against yours, wanting to be close. You obliged easily, feeling his warm breath against yours, his touch surrounding you. The thrumming of his very much human heart against your lesser human one. You supposed it was a kind of feeling that no other living being could fathom. It wasn’t love, gods, no. It was something much more than that. 

It was something that only the two of you shared. 

“I made you wait,” Sukuna breathed, stroking the side of your face, and you snorted out an agreement. 

He had made you wait for centuries. Centuries of spending night and day in a cold wet cave, alone. You used to spend weeks lying awake at a time, waiting, hoping he would come back, sharp instincts perking up at every slight noise coming from outside the cave, only for it to be a bird or a stupid human traveller. You had hoped so desperately before that hope died with your will to live, and if not for your curse of immortality, you would have ended it all. You hadn’t even bothered to make a proper nest, for all these years. It didn’t matter if your mate wasn’t there to appreciate it. 

He had left you empty of meaning. 

“... I don’t suppose you will want me to apologise for that.” 

You stayed quiet. You weren’t looking for an apology. But that didn’t mean you weren’t angry with him. 

“Words?” he said patiently, looking at you. “Tell me how you feel.” 

“Nest,” you told him, and he watched helplessly as you shrugged his grip off and stalked past him, out of the cave and into the bright sunlight, for the first time in ages. 

You gathered nesting materials as swiftly as you could, taking whatever you could find in the forest—dried-up twigs, leaves, bark strips, bird feathers, all the sort. They didn’t have the softest texture, but they would do for now. 

You returned to a sweet, heady scent seeping out from inside the cave, each whiff sending delicious quivers down your spine. It was the kind of aphrodisiac that omegas in the wild would release if they wanted to attract an alpha, but these things did not matter to you much. Mate, your mind supplied. Breed. You shook it off as your body not being attuned to the unbearable warmth of the outside world. It was getting all your instincts mixed up. 

Inside the cave, Sukuna was sitting on your poorly-made nest like it was a grand throne, thighs spread and arms hung out, exposing his most vulnerable parts—his neck, heart and belly—to you in such a casual manner that it set fuel to the burgeoning fire you had been trying to ignore in your abdomen.

He gave you a lazy look as you noticed, a smirk beginning to stretch across his face. 

“You are back.” 

You felt your fangs itch. 

“I was going to rip these off,” Sukuna continued when you made no reply, pinching his clothes with a look of near disgust. “But I figured you would want to do it yourself…?” 

You growled. You had been suppressing the urge to rip off all his clothes since the moment he emerged in front of you in those markings that you had recognised as yours, and somehow, he knew it. 

“Sukuna,” you said. There was nothing else to say. You could feel yourself trembling with desire. Even he wouldn’t be able to take it, not in this weak form, no. “I need… to fix the nest.” The words came out flimsy and weak. An excuse.

“Take me,” he rasped out, as though reading your mind. He gestured to his stomach. “Forget the nest. I want you inside me. Right here.” 

He watched you, a hint of desperation behind his stern gaze. You looked away. 

“I am angry at you,” you confessed, the real reason for why you were so hesitant. It came out in a growl, and Sukuna shivered, baring his neck with a low whine. 

“I can tell,” he murmured, breathless. “Take it out on me.” 

It was tempting, really, having your mate spread out in front of you in your territory, willing and pliant, with only a thin, negligible barrier between you and what was yours. No, what used to be yours. You glared at his unblemished neck, now empty of a mating bite. It didn’t feel right, and the growing heat within you was telling you to either bite or break something. 

“No.” 

Sukuna cocked an eyebrow. “No?” 

Trying your best to ignore him, you lumbered over, starting to rearrange the nest into something more presentable. As you got closer, the sweet scent intensified, like a field of blooming red roses, each one making you dizzy with desire. Mate, your instincts were telling you. Make him round and heavy with our offspring. Keep him here forever. Who knows where he’ll walk off to the next time we lose sight of him. 

You could feel your cock sliding out from its sheath, steadily hardening as you pretended not to know where the smell was coming from. 

Sukuna eyed you coyly as you moved closer to stuff a few feathers behind him, arching his back subtly as he settled into a more comfortable position, one that exposed the wet patch between his legs. He pulled down the mouth of his shirt to show his right pectoral, the thick black lines enticing you to trace them with your tongue. 

Your cock swung heavily with every slight movement, and you could feel his hungry stare on it. 

He opened his mouth. You stopped and stared back at him, daring him to speak. He sneered. “Your dick clearly disagrees—” 

Sukuna yelped as you ripped his shirt open with your claws in one smooth movement, fully exposing his plump chest. 

“Beautiful,” you growled in appreciation, flinging the shredded shirt away, and he panted out a victorious laugh, eagerly pushing out his tits for you to examine. 

“Fucking finally.” He moaned unabashedly as you groped his pecs, careful not to graze him with your claws, but just as rough nonetheless—just the way he liked it. “Knew you would give in, haah.” 

“Sukuna,” you warned, baring your teeth, but he only arched his neck in response, trying to get you to bite already. 

“Put it in,” he whined. “Want your prick in me.” 

You ripped his pants off next. 

Your gaze raked down his body—this new, unfamiliar body of his that you should despise, because it was so human, so unlike him—but instead of feeling revulsion, you could only taste hunger. Saliva rapidly gathered in your mouth, threatening to spill out from the gaps of your sharp teeth. 

If he belonged to you, then every form and body that he chooses to possess would belong to you, too. And naturally, this one did. 

“Here,” Sukuna panted, reaching a hand between his legs to scissor his hole open for you. Viscous, syrupy slick dripped out, dousing your nest with his sweet smell, and all of this only served to drive you crazy with want. “Fuck me, ruin me, come on—” 

The universe unravelled before you the moment you grabbed him by the hips and seated him on your cock in one violent thrust, and you groaned out loud and guttural, heavens and the earth be damned. You could have never forgotten how it felt, not since then, and never now, a sweltering, almost electrical connection burning through your bodies and sealing them together as one, like you were made to fit inside him, like he was made to be yours. 

Sukuna was letting out a string of broken whimpers, face contorted in absolute bliss and pleasure as his rim stretched impossibly wide around your thick girth, his stomach bulging out to allow such a large intrusion. You yanked him further down the shaft of your cock, and he cried out, body convulsing as came—cock messily spurting on his chest. 

“Shit,” he cursed, trembling as you began to move again. “F-forgot how big this thing is.” 

You snarled. Guess you would just have to imprint your dick inside him to make sure he would never forget again. 

You manoeuvred your grip to the back of his knees, supporting him in a secure hold, spreading his thighs wider so you could slide in deeper with his back pressed against your chest. You wanted to feel every inch of him, wanted him to sheath you, wanted to carve a space inside him that only you could ever breach. Sukuna howled out a profanity, throwing his head back to rest on your shoulder as pleasure overwhelmed him in waves. 

He reached back to grab at your shoulders, horns, anything, struggling to push himself into a better position as you started to slowly thrust into him. Vulnerable was the first word that came to you. The second one was fragile, but that wasn’t the word for it, either. He was so little now—you could fit one hand completely around his waist, and you should be more gentle with him, really, but you knew he could take more. 

“Look,” you said, peeking over his shoulder. Sukuna looked up at you, teary and confused, but before you could clarify, you reached a clawed hand to press against the obscene bulge on his navel, and his eyes rolled back with a loud, shuddering cry as he jerked in your arms, pressure immediately increasing tenfold. 

“F-fuck,” he sobbed. You could feel the slick gushing out from around you and dripping down your thighs as he stared down for the first time, throat dry and unbreathing. “It’s too fuckin’ big.” 

You applied more pressure, just to be cruel, watching as he choked on a moan, thighs quivering uncontrollably. He stared back up at you, as though searching for a reason for that, and couldn’t resist looking down again, at the huge swell over his stomach and abdomen—the print of your cock marking him as yours. He slowly pressed his hands over your larger ones, whimpering as he felt just how deeply you were buried inside him. 

“It is not that big,” you sneered. “You are just small now.”

Sukuna scowled at your taunting words, shivering as you gently stroked his stomach. “Brat. That does not- ah- does not mean I cannot take you.” 

You bared your teeth, trying for something similar to a smile. “I know.” 

You knew that more than anyone. He was the strongest creature you had ever known, and would ever know. The only one you would ever bow down to, the only one you would serve and recognise as king.

You lapped up his tears, and Sukuna leaned heavily into your touch, like he had been starving for it. 

He was starting to roll his hips impatiently, forcing the head of your cock to rub against his walls, lustful whimpers slipping out as he watched you move inside him. “I guess it has been a long time,” he heaved, trying to catch his breath as he worked himself up and down your shaft the best he could. “I am gonna—cum. Again. Hold me.” 

It wasn’t an order as much as it was a plea.

You lifted his thigh high up to your chest, your other arm wrapping protectively around his waist as you violently slammed up into his tight hole, stuffing him full as he screamed. Strips of white painted his chest as he came all over himself, and you hooked your jaw over his shoulder to dutifully lick them up. 

It took him less than a minute to recover, hips jerking in your grip and whimpering pitifully to get your attention.  

“Fuck me,” he sobbed, way too sensitive as you started to move him up and down your cock again, canines grazing his neck. “Fuck me harder.” 

You knew Sukuna wasn’t letting you do this only because he wanted you to let you take out your anger on him. He needed it himself, craved it, even—the violence, the overstimulation, the release. Centuries of not having you beside him. Centuries of being sealed up in a dark, empty space without the comfort of your warmth, the solace in your touch. He needed it now, more than ever, and you needed it too.  

Ignoring his protests, you pulled him off your cock, setting him gently onto the nest on his hands and knees. Yanking his hips up, you forcefully pushed your shaft into him again, shoving him down by the neck when he tried to see what you were doing. He only moaned at the rough treatment, arching his back for you. 

“Let me,” you told him, gently. “Let me take care of you.” 

Sukuna panted, his two left eyes watching you with a strange reverence that only revealed itself when the two of you were alone and being intimate. It wasn’t exactly a promise to behave, but it was enough for you to start again. 

Your tail curled around his thigh possessively, guiding it to spread wider as you rammed your hips against his repeatedly with heavy thrusts, the wet slaps deafeningly loud as they echoed through the cave. Sukuna had stopped trying to fuck himself on your cock, instead laying there and allowing you to position him as you wished, moaning lewdly every time the tapered tip of your cock forced itself against his sweet spot. He was squeezing deliciously around you with every thrust, his insides squelching as slick coated the entirety of your shaft, easing the stretch and glide. 

“Gorgeous,” you growled, entranced by the way his hole greedily swallowed up your length, and he whined brokenly at the praise, trembling hands reaching back to spread himself open for you. You groaned out at the sight, driving yourself deep in before pulling out until only the tip stayed inside, and slamming back in again to drink in his pleasured cries. Somewhere in the middle of that he had cum again, spilling heavily into the nest as his knees gave out, legs shaking with overstimulation. 

“So fuckin’ good,” Sukuna whimpered, no longer himself in the haze of his third orgasm—face smushed against the nest as he drooled. “Missed this—missed you so much, ah—” 

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, the edges of your vision blurring as you snapped your teeth together, focused on getting him off as much as possible first. Something strange and heavy was churning deep within you, being slowly dragged out from your depths and solidifying at the base of your cock—a feeling you hadn’t felt for a long time, you almost forgot what it meant. 

You didn’t even know if it was possible to impregnate him in this form. 

“Fill me up,” he sobbed out, cockdrunk already. The stutter of your hips had given it away—it didn’t matter if it had been centuries—his body could recognise it coming from a mile, like he was conditioned to be bred by you. “Want your eggs.” 

You let out a hungry, animalistic whine at his words, claws digging into his hips and thighs as you towered over him in a proper mounting position, pounding harder and making guttural sounds of pleasure and want as you blindly chased your release. His eyes squeezed shut as he moaned wantonly, exposing his throat in a clear sign of submission, showing you that he wanted this, wanted you to stuff him full until he was bulging with your offspring. 

“S-Sukuna,” you managed, wanting to bite, wanting to mark him, cock slamming directly into his sweet spot with reckless abandon, as though wanting to mark his insides as yours too. You could feel a knot bloating at the base of your shaft, heavy and swollen with solid weight, an unbearable pressure pushing and growing insistently somewhere down there, slowly travelling towards the rim of your cockhead. It was too much, too good, and you wanted to push deeper, deeper, make him feel it all the way to his throat. 

“Knock me up already!” he wailed, pushing his ass back against you desperately as if that would speed things up. “P-Please. You know I want it. Been waiting for so long. I want it, please, please—” 

He was begging so much that it was driving your instincts into overdrive, sight blurring, breath coming out in rapid, hot pants—he had rarely, rarely ever acted like this even before the two of you were separated—tears rolling down his cheeks as he cried his heart out for you to permanently mark his body as your own, distraught and broken like the only thing that could fix him was you. 

It tore your soul apart to see your mate like this. 

You fought to concentrate, but an invisible force was prying your jaws open, trying to get you to bite, clamp down on his neck and shoulder, taste his blood and drink in it. 

“Bite,” you wheezed out with difficulty as your hips continued to pound into him of their own accord, and you tried your hardest to tell him that you were going to lose it any time. “Please—can—I?” 

“Yes, you fucking fool,” Sukuna choked on a sob as you brutally shoved your knot into him, stuffing him full until he felt like he was bursting. “Mark me up, show me that I belong to you—” 

And you did, jaws latching onto flesh and skin as your teeth punctured the juncture between his neck and shoulder, fangs sinking in deep, snarling, shaking, a burning heat exploding at your core as your vision whited out, emptying everything into him—ecstasy consuming your very existence. 

When you came to be, he was whimpering weakly.

You could feel the cum steadily trickling out of his hole and down the back of his thighs—you had come so much that even the thick knot couldn’t keep everything inside—but you didn’t think that was the reason. 

You could feel a heavy pressure present from your crotch to the gaping rim of your cockhead, pain and pleasuring splitting you apart, and you let out a wounded noise as you pushed the first egg into the body of your mate. 

“S-shit,” Sukuna croaked out, thighs trembling as the egg settled into him, straining at the sudden heavy weight in his stomach. “H-how many are there?” 

“There are two,” you hissed out, and his eyes widened. “Two more.” 

He let out a pained whine, eyes fluttering close as he waited for the next, and the next. “Brat,” he managed. “I might not be able to stay awake.” 

You pulled back the best you could, manhandling him gently so that you could rest him on his side, knot still lodged inside him. “It is okay,” you told him, softly. “I will take care of you.” 

Sukuna couldn’t remember, for the life of it, the last time that he had felt so heavy. 

He blinked his eyes open, and was greeted by the sight of his swollen stomach, now stuffed with three whole eggs, and at least a gallon of your cum. He sighed with contentment, wriggling to settle comfortably into the warmth of the nest, hands settling on his stomach. 

Yuuji was going to try and kill him, no doubt. Not that his vessel would ever come close to succeeding. He found himself grinning evilly at that. 

Sukuna was about to fall asleep again, before he noticed a lack of body heat behind him.

He was breathing in your scent as the entire cave was drenched in it that he hadn't realised immediately, but you were nowhere in sight. A hollow feeling swept over him in waves at the thought of being used and abandoned, and he bit back a whimper. Stupid, useless instincts. He hated how weak you made him.

“Brat,” he called, softly, too tired to sit up. “You are here?” 

You grunted. 

You had been sitting at the far edge of the nest for the past hour, gaze locked onto the entrance of the cave, guarding your now pregnant mate from any foolish intruders. That was… one of the two reasons. The other reason was to guard him from yourself. 

Sukuna called for you again, and you could not resist stealing a glance.

The sight before you was making you light-headed with desire that you could not afford to have, not right now. You stared down at him just as he looked up at you, swollen and bulging with your offspring, mindlessly stroking his huge stomach with cum still trickling down his ass and thighs. 

Fuck. You were so hungry. You would always be hungry for him.

Sukuna’s face split into an arrogant smirk. “Why, after all that, and you still want more.” 

“Do not,” you warned lowly, trying your best to look away, even as he shamelessly spread his legs, showing you the mess you had made between his thighs. “Sukuna. Not now.” 

“Why not?” he leered, taking pleasure in your distress. “Scared you will break me?” 

You growled. “Yes.” 

“Weak,” he taunted. “I do not remember picking a weak fool as my mate.” 

“I am not weak.” You bared your teeth at him, and he simply laughed at you. 

“So easy to rile up,” he hummed. “Come here.” 

“... No.” 

He looked even more amused. “Come over, brat. I will not do anything vile.” 

“So you know you are vile,” you said, and despite your words, begrudgingly strut over and buried your face into his neck, ignoring the dull heat persisting in your lower abdomen. 

Sukuna sighed as you lapped affectionately at the fresh mating bite, closing his eyes and basking in the heat of your body. “I never- ah- denied it in the first place.” 

You pulled back to glower at him, clawed hands settling back on his hips where they belonged—now carrying the weight of your offspring. He reached up to cradle your face now that you were steadying him, unfazed by your glare. 

“And you still love this vile creature?” he murmured, gazing at you with an expression no less than tender.

“Love,” you repeated, like it would make sense if you said it a second time. You felt more for him than just love. If love only made your skin feel warm and your heart beat fast, like the mortals have told, then this feeling was something much, much more than love. 

Sukuna merely grinned, and you knew he felt the same. 

kinktober masterlist! masterlist!

[ivyues]

Laptop Delivery - Bang Chan

Practice got a little more eventful thanks to an forgotten laptop.

It was a peaceful morning. Fresh from your shower, you padded into your kitchen, planning to grab a quick breakfast before heading to uni. But something on the counter stopped you in your tracks – Chris' laptop.  

Your heart sank. He’d stayed over last night but had to leave early for dance practice. The sight of his laptop sitting on the counter screamed trouble. Normally, he wouldn’t bring it over – it was too precious, filled with tracks, demos, and other vital material for the group. You knew his schedule was packed, and forgetting something this important could only mean bad news.

You snapped a picture of it and sent it to him with the caption:

"Forgot something?"

Still, you couldn’t shake the thought that it might be much more important. Without hesitation, you called him, even though you knew he was at practice.  

After a few rings, he picked up, slightly breathless. "Hey, baby. I’m… kinda at practice right now – what’s up?"  

"Did you leave your laptop here on purpose?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.  

"What?" His voice was sharp with confusion. "No, I thought I— wait, let me check the picture you send me."  

A muffled curse followed as realization hit. "Oh shit, no. I’ve got a meeting with some producers right after practice. I can’t believe I left it there." His tone was laced with stress.  

Chris hesitated. "I—" he started, then stopped himself. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He was probably considering rushing back to your place after practice, which would make him late for the meeting. Worse, you wouldn’t even be there to open the door since you'd already be at uni by then.

"I… could… bring it to you," you offered cautiously, knowing what value the device had to the group.  

"Really? Would that be possible?" His voice softened, a mixture of relief and guilt.  

"Yeah, but I’d have to leave now. I still have uni today," you said, already moving to grab your things.  

"Ah, that's amazing. You're an angel," he said warmly. "I’ll text you the room number."  

Skipping breakfast, you grabbed his laptop and headed out. On the way, you planned to stop by a bakery for something quick after the delivery, before heading straight to class.  

-----

At the JYP building, you knocked lightly on the practice room door, despite Chris’ text saying you could walk right in. The door opened to reveal Felix, his face lighting up with a grin.  

"Hey!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug.  

"Hi, Lix," you replied with a small smile. From across the room, Chris’ head shot up, his eyes locking on you. Relief and affection softened his expression as he quickly made his way towards you.  

"Hey," he murmured, stopping just in front of you.  

"Hi," you replied, reaching into your bag to pull out his laptop. As soon as the sleek silver device emerged, the room fell silent.  

The members froze, eyes wide. It wasn’t just a laptop to them; they knew what was inside – tracks, demos, lyrics, everything. The fact that you were holding it was proof of something bigger: the trust Chris had in you.

But before anyone could speak, Chris gently pulled you into the room, his fingers brushing your cheeks as he softly pulled your mask down.  

And then, he kissed you.  

It was natural, familia – something the two of you had done countless times before. But here, in the quiet practice room, with – unbeknownst to you – all eyes on you, it felt different. His lips were warm and soft, a silent expression of gratitude and love.  

The members didn’t move, still processing what they were seeing. None of them had expected this. Sure, they knew how much Chris cared about you, but seeing it displayed so openly caught them off guard.  

When he finally pulled back, his ears burned red, and he muttered a sheepish "I’ll call you later, okay? Thanks again", as he took the laptop from your hands.  

You, cheeks blazing, barely managed a nod as you stepped back. The silence lingered for a beat longer before you mumbled, "Y-yeah. Bye, everyone."

You turned and left, closing the door behind you.  

The moment the door clicked shut, chaos erupted.  

"YAH, HYUNG!"  

"I can't believe you just did that!"

"PDA MUCH?!”

"Channie hyung, what was that?!"

"Wow, so smooth. Too bad your ears give you away."  

Outside, you heard the screaming teasing very clearly and couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks still burning as you walked down the hallway. Chris could handle the teasing – he brought it upon himself after all.  

masterlist

[stalkedandblocked]

camgirl!reader x sevika

tw. reader and sevika are live, regular au (?? i have no idea how to word it 😭) masturbation (reader), strap on, fingering, cunnilingus (giving and receiving), sevika puts you in a headlock, squirting, overstim, sucking the strap

while in college you get a little bored of your mundane life, and with some free time during the night and also in need of some more money you start an only fans account. after growing quite a following you decide to do a raffle to stream with one of your fans to make things more interesting.

a/n: this took so long holy moly. i hope y’all liked this because this is one of my first times writing a full fic <3 like and reblog if ur a real sevika truther :D

with your tripod and camera on your bed infront of you, you moan, “mmmf… im so close,” you arch your back off the bed as you press the vibrator harder onto your clit. you spread your legs wider, giving a show to the camera. “fuck- oh my god,” your hips start bucking and you throw your head back, you moan and cry as your orgasm hits you, the painful feeling of overstimulation comes quickly but you keep the vibrator on your pussy and your whole body trembles through your orgasm. panting like a dog, you finally turn off the vibrator and place it to the side.

you lift your shaky body and sit on your knees in front of the camera, putting your hands in your lap to squeeze your breast together. you start to announce the little idea you had. messages are spammed in the chat, asking for you to chose them, that they’ll even send money for you to choose them, and asking about what you mean by this. you only giggle and say, “it’s just a thought you pervs, i thought it might be fun to chose one of you randomly and see if you’d be interested in streaming with me.”

the chat dies down on the questions and you say a few more words to say goodbye, before ending the stream by blowing them a kiss.

after hopping in the shower and getting yourself clean, you change into some comfy pajamas before making a post on your page.

‘hi to all my fans! i’m so glad you guys were interested in my proposal, if your in the area dm me for a chance to stream with me ;), i can’t wait!’ after pressing send you turn your phone off and head to bed, hoping that hopefully this won’t be a mistake, and that whoever you chose isn’t entirely horrendous looking.

the next day you check your phone, a couple hundred dm’s are in your inbox. most being people from far away asking if they can fly out but you stick to your word, you find one from an account who sent their address. “let’s see what this person has to offer” you think to yourself. you text back and forth before ultimately asking for a photo of them holding some id next to them so you know they’re not lying about their identity.

a while passed before the account responds, there was no indication about who this person might be so your surprised to see a woman, another notifications sends and it’s a photo of her id attached. you look closer at it, her names sevika, she’s quite a bit older than you, but that didn’t bother you. you ponder for a bit, you’ve never had sex with a woman, but was not opposed to the idea. but yes, even thought the photo of herself is a bit awkward, even reminding you of a parents facebook photo which makes you laugh to yourself a bit, she is very attractive. and from what you can see she seems quite muscular.

“alright”, and you send her an address of a restaurant near both of your homes and tell her to meet you there tomorrow and 4pm.

the next day, you put on a simple going out outfit, nothing to make it obvious your meeting a stranger to fuck her, then head out the door. as you walk to the restaurant you feel butterflies, obviously you had only even been with men, but she was, well, very sexy you thought. the idea excited you but also made you nervous.

as you sat at a table and tell the waitress your waiting for somone, another walks into the restaurant. you miss her face but her hair is tied half up and it’s short, a few inches above her shoulder. she’s also is very tall. you gulp, from what you remember that looks like her. she scans the restaurant before you make eye contact. she walks over to you and sits across from you.

“you must be sevika,” you smile, feeling more nervous than you expected to be. when she responds her voice is deep and smooth, her words are almost seductive. compared to your messages and how she talks to you she seems much more ready and nonchalant about this whole situation in real life. everything about her attracts you, “so did you have any ideas of when you’d like to.. ahem” you try to keep your voice down so no one hears and gets any ideas, “..stream”.

sevika is lazily leaning back in her char, legs nudged open a bit. she leans over the table, resting her arms on it, “i’m ready whenever you are.” you have no idea if she meant to make you flustered, or tried to make it sound sexy but her words melt you brain almost. you stand quickly and grab her arm, “let’s do it today, let’s do it now!” you squeal out before your dragging her out of the restaurant.

sevika had driven so she directs you to her car, you drive to your house and you walk up the stair together after she grabs a bag out of the back of her car. your whole body is warm and fuzzy with excitement. “i usually wear some lingerie when i start, as you probably know. would you like some or do you want to start naked?” you ask, grabbing a matching to set to change into.

“naked.” she responds, she watches as you walk to the bathroom to change. you throw a robe out of the bathroom so she can cover herself before you start. you come out in your set, wearing a robe as well. she sits on your bed watching, “let me set up the camera and then we can begin. did you have anything in mind on what we want to do, what we want to follow?”

“i have ideas for later, but let’s not worry about that now.”

you begin the stream, sevika sits naked on your bed, and you take the robe off infront of the camera. sevika places a hand on your hip guiding you to her lap before you crawl over her. each touch feels like sparks, your already soaked and anticipating what’s gonna happen. you grab eachother and start kissing, her tongue runs over your lip and your lips crash against each other. you sit down on her lap and slowly move your hips over her muscular thighs, you moan into her mouth. “that’s a good girl,” she praises, before continuing to kiss you.

she grabs your hips roughly, helping them move back and forth, you arch and moan for her. your chat is going crazy, some even shocked that it’s another woman. she stops your grinding and lifts your hips up a bit before dragging her thick finger up and down your slit. both of you seem like you forgot that your streaming and just enjoy each others bodies. she rubs your clit in circles, making your toes curl. she takes you from on top of her and flips you to face the camera, spreading your legs, the exposing position making you even wetter. she slides your panties to the side so the camera can see your wet cunny, she starts rubbing circles on your clit makes you throw your head back.

she chuckles at you, “don’t make me hold you head up. already so sensitive, huh?” her mocking words make you moan once more, she begins teasing your hole before nudging her index and middle finger into you. her fingers are so thick and long, your already seeing stars, “fuck! yes! right there sevika, oh my god-” you scream out as she adds her ring finger inside. your juices leak all over her lap and hand. your head leans against her and you mewl into her ear, begging to cum. as you finally start to reach your orgasm she pulls out her fingers and slaps your pussy.

“fuck!” you cry out as your body reacts to your ruined orgasm, sevika chuckles. you breathe heavily as sevika manhandles your basically limp body, laying it on the bed, she starts pulling down your panties and the slick dripping between your legs is more visible than ever. you arch your back slightly off the bed and she unclips your bra, she stops what she’s doing and stares at them. you giggle and can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or because of her expression, like she’s almost captivated. your breasts fall from the bra and lay prettily on display, which sevika quickly takes advantage of and begins to suck at on of your nipples and knead the other. you let at small moans while kisses litter your tits.

she lifts her head up and smirks “are you ready?” she asks, with having no idea what she’s talking about, you eagerly nod. she begins moving her body over yours and places her bare pussy on your face, letting down all her weight, then spreading your legs and burrying her face in your own cunt. your almost shocked by this, she starts teasing the tip of her tongue on your clit, before diving it into your hole, tongue fucking you and hitting all the good spots in your pussy. you moan against her cunt and try to copy her actions. you suck her clit and lap your tongue up and down her pussy, you squeeze around her tongue in response to her moaning. it’s low and vibrates through your whole body. it’s not long before you cum because of the previous teasing she had done earlier. you squeeze your legs around her head and buck up, trying to keep up the pace with how your lapping her pussy, but inevitably struggle from how your body is shaking against her face.

sevika places one last sloppy kiss to your clit then raises herself, and grinds against your face until she orgasms, gripping onto your hair. the moans she lets out makes your pussy ache.

while coming down form your high you lay next to each other panting, forgetting about the stream itself. “you okay, baby?” sevika asks, places kisses on your neck. “mhm,” you mumble, relaxing into the bed as she kisses you. “well, i think it’s time for what i had planned for earlier”, she gets up and disappears off camera. across the room she pulls something out of her bag that she had grabbed earlier. she begins to attach something to her hips, and before you know it she’s standing over you with a strap on.

it’s so thick and long, you gulp. not even with any men had you had to take something for big. “i know your wet enough but, i don’t think this is” sevika lets out a sly smile. her height already towers over you, so even standing and you sitting in the bed has you face to face with it. “suck it.” she orders and obediently you do. you place your hands around it, looking up at her with puppy dog eyes, and slowly thrust your mouth down onto it. she stares down at you and bites her lip. you bob your head up and down, slowly reaching down with each thrust, your throat adjusts around it and you gag against it and sevika laughs. she places one hand on your head to tug at your hair. once you finally reach down the base she holds your head down. the length makes your eyes tear up as you gag even more.

she pulls your hair back until your off of it and pushes you down to the bed. still grasping your hair she puts your face down into the pillows and keeps your ass up before crawling over you. she has your face infront of the camera and wraps her arm around you. her thick biceps flex as she grabs the strap to line it up at your cunt. she wastes no time pushing it in, when she bottoms out your eyes roll back and without even moving it feels almost heavenly. she starts thrusting slowly before they become almost rapid, her arm squeezes around your throat even more and you moan and gasp. “taking it like such a good little slut,” she purred. you let out a messy smile and your moans just couldn’t stop coming out. they way it felt against your g-spot and pounded into you made your toes curl.

“se-sevika!” you drooled, “i’m gonna cum, please! hah, keep going!” you screamed, sevika took no time and started pounding into you more, her free arm rubbing your clit, fast circles against the puffy aching bud. your body shook and your eyes rolled back into your head, sevika thought they might never go back. you cried out before you finally squirted all over yourself and the bed, the liquid covering your stomach, the sheets and sevikas hand. “holy shit” sevika gasped at the reaction to your orgasm. your whole body was stiff and shaking, your mouth tried to let out moans but nothing came out as your eyes rolled back as hard as they could. your body went limp onto the bed, sevika pulled out of you, a line of slick breaking as the contact broke. you whined at the sudden emptiness.

she grabs the camera and faces it towards you, she spreads your weak legs showing the amount of cum that had leaked from your hole and everything that had dripped onto the sheets and between your thighs. “took it like the good slut she is,” she grabbed a handful of your ass and let out a laugh before she abruptly ended the stream.

she threw the camera onto the bed carelessly, then asked, “so, want to meet again next week?”

[rafesangelita]

♡ cowboy!rafe always snuck into farmer's!daughter!reader's room to give her a goodnight kiss.. but what happens when their innocent little kiss turns into something much more?

warnings: sweet fluff, flirty banter, brief flashback, daddy kink lol, sneaking around, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rafe covering your mouth, crying, overstimulation

a/n: i’ll be opening req’s soon! lately here i’ve been wanting to get out some of my own prompts since over half of my works are all req’s.. but i’m excited to see what you girlies send me! find more of farmer’s!daughter!reader and cowboy!rafe here <3

wc: 1.2k

“open up, doll face.” you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as rafe lightly tapped on your window. he made you so giddy, you scrambled up from the warmth of your sheets, unlocking the hatch before helping him climb in. “i thought you weren’t coming..” you whispered, pouting up at him as he snickered. “y’gotta have faith in me, sweetheart. when have i missed a goodnight’s kiss?” rafe cupped your face, both of you smiling against each other’s lips before melting into one another.

you always felt so warm and fuzzy inside when you and rafe got to share your secret little moments together, the simplicity of just being together without having to worry about someone catching you two made both of your hearts swell. rafe knew how to sweep you off your feet with a single kiss, a string of giggles tumbling from your mouth as he not-so-quietly threw you onto your bed. “rafe!” you scolded him, your heart beating in your ears as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“my daddy is next door! what if he hears..” you slapped his chest playfully, the man above you arching a brow. “daddy? i thought i was your daddy.” your cheeks heated in embarrassment when you recalled the quickie you two had in the barn not too long ago. rafe had you bent over a hay bale, his thrusts making you unable to speak until he asked you the golden question.

“hmmph! fuckin’ say it. tell me what i wanna hear, who’s your fuckin’ daddy?”

taking your bottom lip between your teeth, rafe smiled as he shook his head down at you. “you just thought about it, didn’t you?” snapping you out of your flashback daze, you laughed when he leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to the column of your throat. he smelled like soap, the slight stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin. as if your hips had a mind of their own, you grinded your clothed cunt against rafe’s thigh, a whimper leaving your lips at the lack of friction.

“hey,” rafe cupped your tits through your flimsy night top, “you thought i wasn’t coming tonight, right? that’s what you said.” your eyebrows knitted in confusion before a gasp slipped from your mouth. “yes..” rafe trailed a hand underneath the waistband of your sleep shorts. “so why don’t you have any panties on?” you froze, eyes flickering down to where rafe ran a finger between your folds. keening, you couldn’t help the moan from leaving your lips.

rafe stared at you for a moment, his eyes growing dark as he clamped a hand over your mouth. “i’ve been thinking about this pussy all day. ‘think you can stay quiet for me?” of course you couldn’t.. and rafe knew that. you stared at him with wide eyes, butterflies fluttering in your tummy when he took himself out of his pants. “i mean it. we don’t want your old man chasing me down with that shotgun of his, now do we?” you shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt the head of his cock prod at your entrance.

you shrieked, his hips rolling into yours as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt. if it wasn’t for rafe’s hand muffling your scream you’re sure both of you would be in deep trouble right now. rafe rested his head on your pillow, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he started thrusting. feeling his weight on top of you like this had easily become your favorite thing, the closeness of it all made your heart sing. “fuck, i could never get used to this.. ‘feels like the first time all the time.” he grunted.

you held onto his wrist, your thighs hugging his waist as he kissed the side of your face. “taking me so fuckin’ good, you were made for me, yeah?” you whined, your eyes watering as rafe continuously hit that soft spot inside of you. your headboard started hitting the wall, a smirk gracing your boyfriend’s features. “rafe!” you whispered, tearing his hand away from your face. “s-slow down!” you attempted to push him away while simultaneously trying to keep your noises to yourself.

rafe picked up his pace, wrapping a hand around your throat. “can’t..” you shook your head, your chest rising and falling as the knocking of your headboard only got louder. rafe cursed under his breath when you cried out, working fast to get you turned over so he could push your head into the pillows. “what did i tell you?!” he scolded, landing a smack to your ass. you didn’t have any time to react to the stinging sensation on your backside, your orgasm washing over you once rafe started stroking your clit.

you fisted the sheets underneath you, biting down on your lip as white hot pleasure blinded your vision. rafe made no attempt to soothe you, instead he wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling you up as he nipped at the sensitive skin in the curve of your neck. “sweetheart?” you gasped when your father’s voice sounded from the other side of your bedroom door. you cleared your throat, frozen in place as your door knob rattled. “answer him.” rafe spoke in your ear, his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“what?!” you stammered, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks as rafe continued to rub hard circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “answer him or i’ll make you scream.” you wanted to shoot a sassy ‘you already did’, but you didn’t dare chance it. your chin wobbled, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. “y-yes?!” you called out, glaring at rafe over your shoulder when the sound of his hips slamming into you bounced off of the walls. “you alright in there?” you bit the back of your hand, your head falling weakly.

“is this a girl thing or somethin’, should i call your aunt?” your cheeks heated, a chuckle sounding from the man behind you. “no! i’m o-okay!” rafe pulled your hair again, his lips close to your ear as he whispered the dirtiest things you’ve ever heard. “what would your pops think, huh? catching his perfect little angel getting fucked like this..” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your knees slipping out from under you when rafe pushed you flat on your sheets.

“alright.. goodnight!” you ignored your father’s voice, the only thing your brain allowing you to process was rafe cumming inside of you, his fingers digging harshly into the flesh of your hips. “shittt,” he hissed, “son of a— fuck!” it was his turn to cover his mouth, his muscles constricting as you practically milked him for all he had. you reveled in the feeling of his hot cum filling you up, the thick ropes still connecting you two even after he pulled out.

you sighed, both you and rafe panting in the small space that was your room. “you okay, doll?” rafe kneeled down at your side, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips. blinking at him, you nodded before pulling him next to you. “it’s really late..” you yawned, glancing at the little clock on your bedside table. “i know.” rafe grumbled. there was nothing he hated more than having to leave you like this. wrapping his arms around your waist, rafe waited until you fell asleep before slipping out of your window again.