#it’s been so long since I’ve drawn fr fr

[0zymand1as]

Got silly, wanted to try stuff

Art ref 👇

Some other versions of it

[dragonjadearts]

recent commission for Lednik on FR! This was so much fun, such a cool character! It’s been a long time since I’ve drawn a Guardian, so this was a challenge but I’m very happy with how it came out

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (part 10)

Summary: As tensions arise in King’s Landing, you make moves to assure the safety of your children. Final breaths are taken, pacts are made and broken, steel is drawn and the dragons dance.

Warning: mentions of stillbirths/pregnancy issues, allusions to self harm, some unreliable narrator if you squint. In our f&b bag fr!

A/N: you guys 🥺 we are finally on the last part. First, I want to say I am sooooo sorry about how long it took to get this one out. By the time I’m posting this I’m sort of like, do people even still care lmao 💀. Life has been hectic and tbh I’ve been putting some focus onto other things. Shameless plug to my other, more happy Aemond x oc series, on ao3. As well as I’ve gotten so much amazing feedback and interactions about this fic that I was slightly worried about how people would take the end. Speaking of feedback, and moving on to the more sappy stuff. My writing side blog has grown exuberantly since posting part 1 of fmo last year. It genuinely makes me emotional thinking about the little community that’s come from it. I hope to continue to make more stuff that I’m not only happy with, but further pushes said community ❤️❤️ if y’all have any hotd request let me know. Please reblog, like, and comment. As well as come chat in my inbox if you see something you like.

Slight housekeeping, though if you made it this far you probably already know. This fic does change the dance for self indulgent reasons (lol) and for the narrative of it all. This started as a cheating story and has sort of spun into something entirely else.

Fmo masterlist

Blog masterlist

Ninth moon of 129 AC

Rhaenyra’s voice could be heard from down the hall.

You wanted to reassure yourself that you had heard those screams before from Helaena, or even from yourself giving birth. But there was something so terribly guttural about the ones Rhaenyra was making.

As if outcome of the birth hung in the air. Lingering with the ghost of the past death that happened in the Red Keep. You try not to focus on the sheer look of panic on Jace’s face once you leave him at the door.

By the time you got to her chambers, Rhaenyra is already surrounded by midwives as she is hunched over, palms spread out against the wall. Midwives, and Alicent, whose face was terribly pale. Almost as drained of color as Rhaenyra. Her normally straight blonde hair wavy and stuck to her forehead with the sheen of her own sweat.

Alicent spots you, and gets away from her position from around her. She pulls you over to the side, but before she can even speak you interrupt her. The midwives begin to move Rhaenyra from her standing position to on the bed.

“Has this happened before,” you watch as Rhaenyra pleas lessen and lessen, her state becoming more sedated than what is probably normal.

Alicent shakes her head. Her auburn curls had been released for the night from the tight updo they were in earlier.

“No, at least not the first three,” she swallows hard before coming closer to you. “I fear - I fear this labor may go awry. I think we need to make preparations for if…”

The words catch in the back of Alicent’s throat. She is here with Rhaenyra; she has always been with Rhaenyra. Even when they were at odds; two ghosts haunting each other’s memories. Two sides of the same coin, causalities of the cruel fate. You want to feel sorry her; knowing that she is watching a close… companion go through this, but your mind has been elsewhere since earlier that day.

“Your son has made preparations,” you cross your arms. “All of them actually.”

Alicent brows furrow in confusion, and it dawns on you that Aemond and Aegon never clued their mother in on their little plan.

“You do not know, do you?”

“No, I do not know what your husband has been getting into. I rarely do these days.”

You and her both.

Rhaenyra lets out another groan.

“Where is Daemon,” you ask as Rhaenyra begins to mumble things incoherently to the midwives.

“He took one look at her, and left the room,” Alicent frowns. “She called for him but he went to get Jacaerys instead.”

And Jace came for you on the behest of Alicent. Tis the way of men you suppose. Often, they are absolute nuisance in situations like this, but you could not help but think that mayhaps if Daemon had stayed to seen her in this state, he would not put her through such things again. But that is giving him far more credit than you know he deserves.

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra manages to mumble out the name louder. Her eyes fluttering open and shut.

Alicent instantly rushes over, dropping the conservation she has started with you.

As you watch Alicent coax Rhaenyra through this, her words ring out. Though she did not elaborate on what those plans should be, she was right. Aemond had taken the reigns from your hands plenty times before. Safety will not be completely ensured until any threat is taken out. You have never been to battle nor war, and even you know that. A slightly morbid thought creeps into your head.

If Rhaenyra dies, Aegon could descend the throne.

It was laughable for Rhaenyra, or anyone who supports her claim, to believe known bastards would follow her in the line of succession. Or that Daemon would not bypass Rhaenyra’s first three boy in order to ensure power for her last two. It would mean an all-out war between Aegon and Daemon… but maybe it did not have to go that far. Not if plans were made to undercut whatever moves you know Daemon could put into place.

They are all back in King’s Landing, no longer under the false tranquility they tried to spin at Dragonstone. Amongst their patrons who already have much to say about Rhaenyra’s still short reign.

Aegon on the throne would ensure the safety of all of the kids. And not only the kids, but the kingdom as a whole. A war of succession, especially including dragons, would only bring destruction. Rhaenyra’s boys would have a chance to swear obeisance after Daemon is out of the way, and if not, their presence will not be needed. Bastard blood being spilt is nothing compared to the life your children.

They could go back to Dragonstone and live their lives out there with young Egg and Viserys. With the possibility of Daemon for a father, they would be better off for it.

Your thoughts are broken by the midwives telling Rhaenyra to try and push.

There was already a significant amounts of blood trailing where Rhaenyra had been. Her pushes do little to soothe the position she is in. In frustration and pain, eventually Rhaenyra, much to the chagrin of the midwives and Alicent, shoos them all away. Reaching down to pull the babe out herself.

Letting out an already grief-stricken scream as she does it.

The air is sucked from the room as a gush of blood rushes out of Rhaenyra, followed by a tiny body.

A tiny… silent body. Wrapped in scales and slightly deformed.

No one speaks as they watch Rhaenyra pick up the baby from between her legs and rocks it as if trying to lure it into crying, into breathing. But nothing comes. Just silence, and the aches of a daughter stuck in the self-fulfilling prophecy of a mother that is no longer around.

It is not proper nor lady-like, and you can hear your own mother’s voice in the back of your telling you how rude it is in a time like this, but you just turn and leave. Without a word or peep. Suddenly feeling sick you go back down the hall, back to your chambers. Ignoring Jace who calls your name out in confusion by the sudden silence coming from his mother’s room.

By the time you make it back to the room, Aemond had gotten himself ready for bed. Completely casual as if the events earlier meant nothing to him.

“What’s happened,” he notices your ashen face.

You take one look at your husband, you think of your children away in a place foreign to them, and the stillborn baby Rhaenyra clutched in her arms.

The bile comes up quick. So quick you barely make I to the basin on the other side of the room. The dry heaving reminds you that you barely ate anything today, too worried about the task at hand.

You flinch when you feel a cold hand on your back. Shrugging Aemond’s hand off, you turn head with a glare.

“You made your move,” you mutter. “I’ll give you that. But now we are going to this my way. And Aemond, so help me, a single hair on those kid’s heads is harmed and I am not with them, I burn it all to the ground, you with it.”

You don’t know how and when, but you would do it for them if it came to that. You’d do anything for their safety. It may be time for others to realize that.

— — —

Princess Visenya Targaryen is set on the pyre a day and a half later. A small swaddled body lit on fire once Rhaenyra croaked out the words. Syrax blowing a mighty flame to burn Rhaenyra’s only little girl.

She was advised to stay in bed. Though her outward physical ailments had started to heal, it was clear Queen Rhaenyra was sick. Pale skin still prickling with sweat despite the cool air outside, dark bags starting to form under her eyes as she leans gently against the cane she was given.

You stand next to Aemond, Helaena, and Aegon. The only warm you feel from the fire in front on you.

It was slightly shocking when Helaena came up to you before the funeral with guilt written over her soft features.

“I just had… a funny feeling about the kids being here. I’m sorry.”

She knew.

You were not happy about once again feeling like you’re on the outside looking in with people you are supposed to call family. At least Helaena had the decency to feel ashamed by the omission. The decency to apologize. Guilt and Aemond is laughable being in the same sentence, and Aegon had been avoiding you. A thing that has not happened in months. Helaena was always right about these things; the scary part is that you all never really knew till the outcome already happened.

You run your hand over your black mourning dress. Peering out from under your veil, you make eye contact with Daemon across the fire.

Normally mirth filled eyes, and folly written all over his face had been replaced by an emptiness that scared you. Often, you had felt the unearned confidence and ambition around you was just noblemen living up to an expectation put on by others around them. But a Daemon, already known for his rogue behavior, feeling emboldened by the death of his brother, daughter, and the newly weakened state of his wife, made you nervous.

Only compounded when you think about the conversation shared at Dragonstone. Your loyalty was not expected, but even demanded. You can’t help but wonder if the kids not being around has only put a fiercer target on your back, or even on theirs.

You look over at Aegon - messy hair, bored expression, purple circles under his eyes. But he is no worse for wear compared to Rhaenyra.

If it one thing you have learned since being around this family, it is appearances often make up for everything. Slap a smile and nice outfit on, and people tend to believe what they see versus what is underneath the surface.

The funeral ends, and you make a sharp beeline towards Otto.

“I need to run something past you.”

You rake your knuckles against Aegon’s door, and get reply in return. You do it again, this time with more vigor, slightly embarrassed at Ser Arryk just watching you pound away.

“He is in there,” you question, turning to him.

“The last time I checked, he was my lady.”

The last time he checked?

You supposed not ever sworn protector can be as diligent as Quinton, and not every subject can be well behaved.

“Aegon,” you knock once more.

Blowing out frustrated air through your mouth, you turn to go but the door eventually swings open.

His hair is crumpled on one side, shirt unbuttoned, and reeking of wine. It had not hit you that he may be with someone.

“If you are… predisposed, I apologize. I can come back”

A dopey grin breaks out of face, before he hitched the door open wider. “No one is with me. Oh, dovelet were you worried about that?”

You look over to see Arryk raise a brow at you. You push at Aegon, further annoyed. “Go.” Forcing him back into his chambers.

“Everyone is so touchy today.”

You were there, before the funeral, when Alicent fussed at him about going to it. About trying to look engaged, which he clearly did not. You think about the conversation you had with Otto in his office.

“He is not going to like it. He has long come to terms with not wanting to be king.”

“But his wants are of no concern to you now, are they?”

When put that way, you can’t help but feel a bit bad. But it is true. What Aegon wants right now means little to you. He will eventually learn to like it, and if not like it, he will learn to tolerate it. The way others have to tolerate their fate in life. We are all stuck in the same miserable cycle; the only difference is some of us will not be able to call ourselves King of the Seven Kingdoms.

“We need to talk about some things.”

“Black is one your colors,” he changes the subject. “You should wear it more often.”

“Aegon, I’m serious,” you pinch your nose.

“Is this about the kids? I thought you would be happy they are out of harm’s way.”

“They are not out of harm’s way,” your voice raises, and this is not going the way it was supposed to.

You must push him with a gently hand. A woman’s touch.

There was a something slimy about how Otto ended the conversation. Sending you to Aegon to enact a woman’s touch… whatever that meant.

“But they could be,” you lower your voice. “If - If there was someone else at the helm. None of us would have to worry about their safety. About our safety.”

Aegon give you a funny look before flopping down on his bed.

He is drunk so he may not remember any of this by next morning. You sit next to him on the bed.

“There is no running from this. Despite what you may say, you know you would not be able to live with yourself if you left your family, your kids. Aegon, you are too smart not to know what this is all coming to.”

Though not something you voiced yourself, running was an option that crossed your mind. Finding a way out to Oldtown, grabbing your kids, and running. The logistics seemed all to wash away when the word dragon comes along. Traveling with two young kids would be difficult enough, managing to travel discretely with a giant dragon would not work. You don’t know how you would tell Daella to leave Vermithor.

And then a chill would run up your spine. Where could you go where he would not find you on dragon back?

The two of you sit in silence before Aegon sighs softly.

“Share a drink with me,” Aegon whispers. “Before we all die.”

It makes you laugh. Because that is all you can do at the folly that is your life. You nod softly.

The wine is a Dornish Red. Sweet, warm, and sultry tasting drink. It reminds you of the look Aegon is giving you.

Alicent peaks her head into the door.

“Rhaenyra,” she sees baby Aegon and Viserys sitting on their mother’s bed. Both babbling away over each other. Rhaenyra weakly waves her in. Both Egg and Viserys give Alicent tiny little bows. They do it to everyone, even those who technically do not have the same amount of power toddlers do. Bowing at guards, nursemaids, and court members alike.

The boys are eventually escorted out by one of the maids, but not until they both tell Alicent about the flock of lizards they found in the garden. It’s sweet, Alicent thinks. Reminds her of when her kids were that age. Not yet tainted or disrupted by the life around them. Alicent supposes she also has herself to blame for that when it comes to own children.

Both boys not understanding the position their mother is in. She knows that Rhaenyra is grateful at least two of her kids are not aware of her vulnerable state.

“How are you feeling,” Alicent sits at the edge of the bed next to her, taking in scattering of notes around Rhaenyra. Members of Rhaenyra’s small council have written notes for Rhaenyra to read while she is abed. From things as simple as the mouse problem in the Red Keep to things more serious. Like the Shepherd’s continued teachings; this week sermon’s going as far to say the death of the Visenya was an act of the Gods. That this is Rhaenyra’s punishment. Punishment for the dragon, the incest, the Targaryen of it all.

Alicent makes sure to only visit Rhaenyra when she knows she will not run into Daemon. He flaunted around the castle as if he has never left. Still the same air of arrogance and fire, only now swathed under a layer of coolness. The passing of Viserys, clearly leading him in a quieter path.

So many awful things lead back to that man. Alicent is sure of it.

All Rhaenyra can do is give a small smile and the shake of the head.

“A bit better now that you’re here.”

Alicent just ducks her head shyly.

Rhaenyra was always good at that, making Alicent feel like she was a girl again. Ten and four and completely out of her depth when it came to her feelings. An issue she worries she still has not gained control over.

“I am thinking of naming Daemon protector of the realm,” she then croaks out. “I do not know how much I can get done while in this bed. Watching it all crumble beneath me.”

Naivety. It is the only word that comes Alicent’s mind when it comes to how Rhaenyra handles Daemon. Ironically, it is the same way Otto describes her relationship with Rhaenyra. Her father never forgets a chance the remind her the nostalgia of girlhood, and security she wraps in Rhaenyra. The same way Alicent does not know if Rhaenyra has convinced herself that Daemon’s will head her council above anyone’s else is her true feelings, is the same way Alicent does not know if she holds onto the good parts of Rhaenyra because they still exist. Or because without holding onto them, she would be again flailing and alone. Once again left with the cold, empty feelings that comes with duty above else.

The only person Alicent saw ever cut Daemon down to size is now dead, rotting and finally silent. If Rhaenyra thinks the bond, she had with Daemon is anything more than him trying to hold onto the last semblances of Viserys he could find, she has been sorely mistaken.

“Mayhaps, you should speak that over with the rest of your council,” she pushes the duvet further over Rhaenyra. It is not her job to advise. She doesn’t know if she has it in her advising another clueless monarch. Another seemingly well meaning, but headstrongly clueless monarch. Rhaenyra gets her same propriety from her father.

Rhaenyra is not a bad person. The same way many people would say Viserys was not a bad person. But when all things are said and done, Viserys will be remembered as peaceful. Alicent worries history will not give the same charitable read to Rhaenyra. Who fumbles and doubles down on her bad actions in the way she learned from her father. Terribly misguided in each path they take, paying no mind to the carnage left behind.

Too much trust in Daemon. A fault both will have to live with or die by.

“Everything will be fine, once I recover,” she takes note of Alicent’s distant eyes. “It will be alright.”

You look so much like your father when you lie to me. So much like him with false hope and no tact. They riot in the streets over your reign already, and you are sure it will be alright.

Alicent just squeezes Rhaenyra’s hand. The way she used to when she used to get the urge to pick at her hands. She looks around the room. Rhaenyra, now laying in the same bed her father did before her. Alicent just hopes the morbid memories of Viserys do not haunt her in the way Aemma’s ghost still haunts Alicent to this day.

Aemma was right, and they did not even know it at the time. The birthing bed was their battlefield. And it feels like it is all catching up to them.

It has been a few minutes since your parents welcomed you into their parents, and in those few minutes your mother has done nothing but pick at your hair and fret over your outfit.

The sun was at its height in the sky, brightness peaking through their windows. This morning you woke up, and did what have for the past couple of days. Remember your children are not there for you to kiss and hug, and look over at your sleeping husband. Multiple ways of smothering him popping into your head.

“Wearing your hair back makes you look so severe, my darling,” she fiddles with bun. Your hand goes up the move it way. “And grey is not slimming on everyone.”

“Yes mother,” you try to grin and bear like you have always done. Your resolve faltered when she gushed about how lovely of a father Aemond was for wanting the kids to spend more time with their uncle, the excuse the both of you had parroted whenever someone asked here Daella and Alaric were.

“I think it may be best, if both of you go back home,” you sit both of them down. “I just worry that things may get a bit hectic, and I would feel better if you both were far from it.”

They both give you a curious look. There is only so much you can say without giving all away. Your father gets up and pulls you to the side.

“There has been… rumblings,” he mutters. “About the Queen and her state.”

He chooses his words wisely. As if he was worried others are listening.

“I want you to know that whatever path may arrive. The full backing of the house is behind it. Your uncle and I will make sure of that. If there was a change in power.”

Tears pinch and sting your eyes. It should be reassuring but it only makes you realizing that backing comes at the whim of others. This will always come back to who is ruling, and who people think should rule.

That is why you married Aemond right? To be put in the best position for your house.

“Thank you, father.”

He kisses you on the cheek, before leaving. You turn towards your mother who sits on the bench in front of the bed.

“I do hope your little excursion has renewed your spirit,” she gets up. “Your husband seemed just beside himself after you left. No wife, no children around. I can only imagine how hard that was for him.” You just stand there as she comes towards you. She stares at you for a moment, taking in your new dark dress, and hair. You cannot tell if the look is unimpressed, or filled with sadness. Your mother’s faces tend to blur together into nothingness.

“Of course, that is what you took from it,” you mutter.

“What was that, lamb?” Another hand runs over your hair.

“Nothing, mother.”

Your mother laughs a bit, in that cold, jilted way she does. The joy never reaching her eyes.

“It’s always been that way. Sweet with him, distant with me.”

You stare at her in slight shock, slight mortification when she leans back. Is that how she’s read the situation? You choosing your father over her. Not the paralyzing fear that came with having to please her. The heart arching want to make her proud of you, even at the expense of your own wants.

“You made it that way. I - you sent me away to - to this place and -“

“Oh, here we go. You got married to a Prince, you had your babies, and I am still the evil mother.”

She bows her head as is she about to cry. Initiatively, you put a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re not evil,” you don’t understand how the conversation how switcher so fast. How now you have to the one to comfort her. “We just don’t see certain things the same way.”

An understatement.

“Mayhaps, I was never meant to be a mother,” she looks up, eyes dry. She says it so casually.

“What?”

“I should have taken the hint after the first miscarriage. But your father just begged and begged about wanting a child.”

You just watch in horror.

She runs another hand over your hair, nagging on the bun and frowns.

“Some women just aren’t meant to be mothers. Too headstrong for it, too weak for it,” there is an air of pity when she says it.

She leans in, and her breath hits your ears. “Be careful, my lamb. The softer the heart, the harder the fall.”

You swallow hard. She’s fed a poison that is hard to be weaned off.

— — —

Leaving the room, in a slight daze. Softly shuffling the opposite way of your chambers, and up the large stairs. You had promised Rhaenyra you would come see her soon.

The only thing that breaks you out the trance is the heavy footsteps of Daemon. You stop and lower your head in acknowledgment.

“My prince, I have not been able to catch you to give my condolence.”

Daemon hums. You’ve noticed how he walks around with Dark Sister attached firmly on his hip. Sometimes sheathed, other times unsheathed as he leans against as some sort of crutch.

“I suppose I should be sending you sorrows too,” a small smile on his face. You tilt your head in confusion.

“Your children.”

Your blood runs a bit cold.

“They are just with their uncle. Taking it the beauty of Oldtown. We want them to see many parts of the realm.”

“With Vermithor?”

You just nod. “You must know how important the bond is between dragon and dragon rider. More importantly during these early stages.”

Daemon’s mirth grows as he comes closer. “I do remember our conversation. About how your loyalty would be not only expected but rewarded. I would absolutely hate to see anyone get hurt, especially as our queen is recovering.”

You smile, brightly and sound.

“Of course, it would be quite a shame if anyone was putting their own needs ahead of Queen Rhaenyra’s. Those close to her must be diligent, and kind.”

The two of you exchange more fake smiles before he steps around you, sword glistening under the flicker of flames in the hallway.

Trying to compose yourself as you make your way to the master chambers. You are slightly relieved by the changes that were made by the time Rhaenyra arrived and settled in. The model Viserys spent even his last days speaking about that collected dust had been removed. Different drapes that let the sun in, the furniture moved around a bit, and the smell. Thank Gods, the smell was different.

The smell of rotting, and noxious air replaced by something a little sweeter. You know that Alicent would come in daily and light different incense for Rhaenyra.

The guards let you in, and she is still in the same place she, day after day, the large canopy bed. The bed you see Viserys lay in as you visit him with Daella and or Alaric.

“Rhaenyra,” you pull back the certain a bit, to let light in. “Have you eaten today?”

You walk over and lay a hand on her forehead. She is burning up. Her fever spiking again. All you get is a groan and the shake of the head.

“Rhaenyra, you need to eat something.”

She just gestures toward the table. Different tonics, drinks, and glasses on top of it. You walk over to see tea as well as a familiar milky substance on it.

You remembered seeing how Viserys was when he was on milk of the poppy. Hells, you understood the strength of it, and you only took it while having Daella and Alaric.

It was the beauty and ugliness of the drug once it was taken too much. The pain was gone, but then came a new problem - the grogginess of the mind and withdrawals.

“The Queen only needs five dops of it,” said the maester, a sour look on his face once asked to leave when you visited her a few days ago.

In all her paranoia, Rhaenyra had asked only those closest to her to help administer it. Not trusting the maesters the very same way she did when it came to Viserys. Out of part guilt of what she just went through, and frankly fear, you agreed when she asked you. But now, as you feel the tides changing once again for the battle for power, your hands shake a bit applying the remedy to her tea.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five….. Six. Seven. Eight.

Before you can change your mind, you a twist cap back on the milk of the poppy.

You walk back to the bed, giving a pale Rhaenyra a strained smile. “Let’s sit you up.”

Rhaenyra winces, eyes in a faraway stare as you help her lean up in the bed. The same bed she had been beholden to for the past week. You bring goblet to her lips and watch her all but chug most of it.

A part of you wants to say a prayer to the Father. Perhaps he will forgive you for all that will happen beyond this point. Understanding how stray animals often act when they are backed into a corner. Teeth bared and fighting for their lives.

She will name him Protector of the Realm if she stays abed any longer. Despite the mistreatment, Daemon has always had a way about him when it came to Rhaenyra. I have no way to stop it. Did not back then, and do not now.

Guilt only mounts when you think about the sadness in Alicent’s eyes when she said that. But then you think about your daughter’s laugh or the wide-eyed innocence of your son, and the guilt fades. All that is left is resentment. A deep hole where you think your heart used to be.

You have to shudder thinking about anyone from this family sitting the throne but at least you know some options are more… malleable than others.

“I can come back to give you more when you need it,” you brush a stray hair behind Rhaenyra’s ear. “Maybe I can read to you too.”

She gives you a tired smile, and nod before her eyes begin to flutter. You watch as her breathing labors as she drifts into a hazy state. In and out of sleep. Here she lays, a victim of the birthing bed like her mother. Ill equipped, and far too foolish to see the damage she will leave behind like her father.

“What is all of this?”

You walk into your chambers to find a table of food in the room. Aemond hops up from the bed. You take a look at the array of breads, and sweets on the table.

“All this for me,” you question, popping one of the lemon candies on a lemon cake in your mouth. “How romantic. The last time I had the pleasure of such a spread, you were telling me you got your mistress pregnant and it sent me into excruciating labor.”

Aemond face falls, and for a moment you understand what it has been like for him the past few years of marriage. To hold power over him, even if it is small and fleeting in the moment. Dangling kindness in front of his face to rip it away for no reason other than you can.

You continue to pick at the food, as Aemond just stares.

“Are you gonna say what this all about or just stare with that silly look on your face?”

His face flashes from sad stoicism something a bit angrier. Ah, that’s your husband.

“I am trying to mend things with you, and all I ge-“

“Oh, that is your first mistake,” you hold up a finger. “Well, not the first. You know your first. But trying to mend something that was never there to begin with? And with food that I could get myself. You’re smarter than that Aemond,” you tut at him.

“So, what now? We spend the rest of our days hating each other?”

If we even get that far.

“It has worked for others,” you shrug.

“It won’t for you,” he rebuts. “The hate will eat you alive. You’ll be miserable.”

Promise?

He speaks as if he is so sure of it. As like Helaena does at times, he has seen into a murky future, and pulled this out. You utterly miserable as you let that dark voice in your head play out all your morbid desires.

“But you would like that, wouldn’t you,” you think about the look he gave you when you wanted to reach for his knife. “Why else would you put through all of this but to make me as miserable as you are?”

It hang on the tip of your tongue. You could push you luck again, and tell him that she is gone, and never to be seen again. Twist the knife that you already have point at his back. But then you would have to be sure of things yourself. Dreams have dissolved into nightmares. Blood mixing the salty water of Dragonstone.

Then you wake and Otto’s words ring in your head. He took care of it. Now you are left trying to sort out the mess of memories that makes up your head. Guilt, anger, and sadness all managing fuck with your head in ways you could not imagine.

You eye the wine on the table. As much you admonish Aegon for it, you do get why he turned to it from such a young age.

The few hours of solace it gives is wonderful. Fleeting but necessary when everything else becomes too loud. Too much.

“It was not an absence in you. It was one in us… in me,” he looks so young when he says it. It almost reminds you of him when he ten and five. Fresh off a growth spurt. Terribly shy, terribly distant. But that was before. Before the expectation of marriage, of children and semblances of loyalty and care.

That boy is gone, and you are surely not the girl you were once you came to King’s Landing. You mourn that girl, the way you mourn the boy Aemond was before he lost his eye. You did not know him then but you always wonder what strings in him broke when that happened. An unjust act with no reconciliation to follow. If any of that led up to the man standing before you today.

“Well, at least that is something we can agree on,” you look down, trying to get rid of the hot tears in your eyes.

You have spent time trying to build up an armor in front of him. You’d hate to have it crack now.

“My grandsire told me about your little plan.”

It makes you look up. Aemond’s arms are crossed in skepticism.

“Your sister’s health is declining rapidly. Aegon needs to ready himself for this.”

“And he has agreed?”

“Your brother will fall in line as he realizes this is the only way to keep those dear to him safe,” you fiddle with the chocolate tart. “He already has actually.”

Helaena and him took a trip to one of the orphanages down in the Red Keep. It is about time people outside of this castle get a look at those in power. Aemond still does not look convinced.

“Does that upset you? The thought of him being king?”

“No more than it does having my useless sister or foolish nuncle on the throne.”

“What, no mention of the bastards technically in front you for the throne right now,” you think the joke falls flat till Aemond narrows his eye, and tilts his head to side in merriment. You have to do a bit of double take at the slight smirk on his face.

“You danced with one of those bastards.”

So, he remembers that.

“A tactical move,” you roll your eyes. “And when I advise Rhaenyra and Jacaerys that he should go back to Dragonstone as the new heir to the Irone Throne and Prince of Dragonstone, it would have payed off.”

“Leaving Rhaenyra as she’s abed, and stuck with Daemon? How would you manage that?”

“I can be quite convincing,” you shrug. “Not that you would understand.”

He takes another dig on chin, uncharacteristically good natured this day, but he gives you that look. The look where you don’t know whether he wants to skin you or kiss you. No one really has ever looked in the way Aemond has. As if he sees nothing of what you’re really made of while managing to look right through you at the same time.

“Better yet, I may even tell Baela and Rhaena that they should take this time to be with grandmother and grandfather, especially as Corlys may stand a similar fate as Rhaenyra.”

“What about the other one,” Aemond frowns.

Your brows furrow in confusion before it dawns on you. Both him and Lucerys had done a good job of avoiding each other since you all came back from Dragonstone. But you can tell the tiptoeing has created strain and awkwardness for everyone.

“If Baela and Jace are gone with Moondancer and Vermax in toe, that just leaves a clearly petrified Luke and Arrax. I think Vhagar, Sunfyre or Dreamfyre can handle that, no?”

Aemond raises a brow. “You want them to die?”

“I don’t want anyone to die,” well that’s not entirely true, and the look Aemond gives you lets you in that he does not believe that as well. “As few casualties as possible is the goal. They can swear to Aegon when the time comes or be put the King’s Justice. As of now, we should take advantage of the uncertainty that rest amongst everyone.”

Aemond laughs, like really laughs. It takes you for surprise, and only upsets you. He laughs as if he finds your thoughts funny in the way seeing a squirrel run up a tree is funny. “What?”

“Nothing…. Lady Hightower.”

You scoff and throw the pieces of the fruit on the table at him. “Fuck off.”

“You make those faces and turn up your nose at Aegon being king, but you and I both know you will be the first to defend his throne,” you throw a strawberry at him but this time he catches it and eats it. “This is all for the kids, right? It is why they are not here, away from their mother?”

“They are away from their father as well. For their safety.”

You just hum.

“I want to write to them. They did not even get to say goodbye.”

“That could be dangerous.”

“I do not care, Aemond,” you raise your voice.

There is a knock at the door and Quinton comes in with a note in his hand. He eyes the food on the table as you read the note. It is from your father, assuring you about your parents soon departure back to the Riverlands.

“Are you alright,” he whispers. You nod softly. Quinton had been hovering somewhere in the background whenever Aemond was around, especially with the children gone. Clearly not trusting him around you.

Quinton should probably be more worried you around him. His cape swishes behind him when he goes to leave the room.

“You can write to them when the timing is better,” Aemond continues once you two are alone again.

The timing is never right. Not with him, not the with situation you are in.

The end of ninth moon of 129 AC

As you walk down the hall, a soft hand brushes against your arm.

“Are sure you are alright,” Quinton’s voice rings in your head, and tickles your ears softly.

“Of course,” you give fake smile, tilt of the head. He stops in the middle of the empty hall. Though he is your sworn protestor, you feel it is best to keep Quinton on the fringes unless needed otherwise. The less he knows, the safer he is you assume.

“I know you are not well without your children around,” he sighs. “But I would not want you to… sully yourself with things before you can get back to them.”

Sully. You take a long look at Quinton. There is something sweet about the way he views you. Entirely too earnest at time but sweet. You wish you could tell him he had nothing to worry about, and meant it. The pedastal he puts you on, my would it be a hard and long fall.

“I appreciate the concern, but I am ok,”’you reach up to touch his cheek. “You will be the first to know.”

He gives a half-hearted nod before then both of you continue your way to Rhaenyra’s chambers. When you get there the maidservants are beginning to place lights out in the hall for the night.

When you walk in, Rhaenyra is perched where she has been for some time now. Fiddling with the books on the shelf in the corner of the room.

“Maybe something a bit more upbeat. A love story,” you whisper. You go sit next to her on bed, flipping through the large brown book in your hand.

Rhaenyra begins to mumble as you shush her softly.

“It’s ok,” you reach over for the cup next to her bed. Sniffing the cup, you take note of how differently it smells compared to the tea and milk of the poppy mixture you used to.

The tonic seems different, stronger than usual. You put it to her lips and watch Rhaenyra drink it. You wipe her mouth. Even if this weakened state, you find her tragically beautiful. Like a fallen Angel. She resembles her siblings in that regard.

“I need - I need,” her eyes flutter open and shut. “The Prince that was Promised.”

You frown.

“Aeg- Aegon…”

“Your brother?”

“Tell Jacaerys.”

She trails off. Your back straightens as you watch as Rhaenyra’s eyes close, and her breathing slow.

The Prince that was Promised… Aegon.

You lean down and kiss her forehead. Mayhaps, in another life things could’ve been different for her. For her siblings, for her children, for you… for your kids. Climbing off the side of the bed, you gently tuck Rhaenyra in.

When you walk out, you see Quinton standing at attention. You motion for him to come with.

“I need you to do go get Otto,” you mummer. “We have business to get to.”

You cannot see the look Quinton gives you as move to walk ahead of him, and to that you are grateful.

Sullying is your only other option.

In the tenth moon 129 AC, the bell connected to the Royal Sept tolled for thee.

The death of Queen Rhaenyra, First of her Name, sent ripples through the Realm. But that was just beginning of the great strife that would follow her passing. A years peaceful period of reign for the Targaryen family ended by infighting.

Histories will say the first problem came the moment the then Princess and heir decided to sire bastard heirs. Others would say it began the moment, Rhaenyra left her succession vulnerable to her young brother. Not ending his line the moment she had the chance to.

Throughout her short reign as queen, there were festering rumors of usurping. That Lord Otto Hightower would hold secret meetings planning for the best moment to strike to get his grandson son on the throne. Others dispirited this claim, saying that the Dowager Queen Alicent’s afflictions for Queen Rhaenyra would never let that happen.

Ironically, it was not the death of the Rhaenyra is not the official start of what would later be called the Dance of Dragons. Instead the death of Prince’s Aemond One-Eye Targaryen’s lady wife’s parents triggered the domino affect. An escalation of plans.

Most would say the overflipped carriage was a tragic accident, but others whispered about something more serious. An inside attack from a member of the Targaryen family themselves. It was this tragedy that led to a public outcry from the members of the house in the Riverlands, coupling with the public crowning of a new king.

It was Ser Criston Cole, member of the Kingsguard, who crowed King Aegon, Second of his Name, in a private ceremony. Only flanked by his new crowned Queen Helaena, Prince Aemond and his wife, and Lord Hightower. King Aegon was crowned in front of the septon of faith, dawning his namesakes crown.

Back on Dragonstone, Jacaerys Velaryon recieved the news of not only his mother’s death, but also the usurping. Except it was not allies with the news, but foes. Jacaerys was slain at the footsteps of the castle.

It is still debated which side has more to gain to having Jace out of the way. King Aegon or Prince Daemon. But in the end, it was the later who eventually set up him home base at Dragonstone. Fleeing under the watchful eye of his spies in the Red Keep. With only two of his sons with him.

Both sides strategizing their moves. Daemon labeling Aegon and his supporters traitors to the realm, while Aegon set out to kill his uncle himself in given the chance. Under the insistence that it was him who accerlated Rhaenyra’s already bad condition.

Support the amongst the realm split as some supporter the efforts of the new king, far more open to his tactics than one of the Rogue Prince or Rhaenyra’s Bastards. While others scoffed at the boldness of Aegon the Usurper.

Those called on the opinions of the sons that remained at King’s Landing. Rumors of the Lucerys and Joffrey Velaryon being chained arriving. But it was not Daemon who negotiated the release of the boys. It was members of House Velaryon.

But there was one condition. It would be Baela and Rhaena, of both House Targaryen and Velaryon, that recieved equal titles after the passing of Corlys. Lucerys would be stripped of title of heir to the Driftmark Throne. It was rumored that this was not a cruel twist of fate from team green, but instead a plea from Lucerys himself.

It was Rhaena Targaryen, in all her wisdom, that worked through the terms. With a heavy heart, and no more bloodshed in her pleas. The more bold sister of the twins, Baela, had other plans. Sensing the release of Lucerys and Joffrey was a trap. She climbed on top of Moondancer, despite the calls not, and made her way closer to King’s Landing herself. But she was not alone. Her grandmother was with her.

Never one to sit from a battle himself, it was King Aegon who climbed his dragon to take them both on. All three dragon and riders fought diligently. Moondancer sustaining life ending injuries, while both Sunfyre and Aegon were injured at battle. But the most costly lost came at the hand of the One-Eyed Prince himself. Taking out Rhaenys and Meleys before further injury could come to his brother.

Enraged at the news of the death of Moondancer, and the almost costly lost of Baela, Daemon began his March. But he also had other plans at play. In efforts to lure the new Prince Regent out of the castle, he sent spies to Oldtown. Where not only Prince Daeron worked with all of Reach to support King Aegon. But also where the young Prince watched over his younger nieces and nephews.

There was an attempt to take the Jaehaerys Targaryen, son of Aegon and Alaric Targaryen, son of Aemond. But the plan was thwarted by a terrible beast. Vermithor lurched and lured over Oldtown like a tower himself. His flames as green as the Hightower Beacon. Highly protective over his new rider and those close to her. At just six and seventh month, Daella Targaryen was feared as her father.

Still not wanting to be outdone, Daemon sets his sights towards not only Harrenhal, but another certain house in the Riverlands. His march pillaging those close to Aemond’s wife. Still grieving the lost of parents and seperated from her children, it was rumored the lady became more quiet, drowning herself in her cups.

It was she, with Queen Mother Alicent and Queen Helaena, who pleaded for Aemond to not take the bait. But it was too no vail. After he heard of the attempted kidnapping, he set out with men of his own.

His march mirroring his uncle’s not only through the Stormlands but as well as the Riverlands. There were whispers of inhabitants at Harrenhal. It is still speculated by both Daemon and Aemond did not burn the structure to the ground, when they had to chance. Tales would be written of a certain magic soiling the ground. Keeping safe from harm.

Though those tales are all rumors, what was undeniably true, is that two Targaryen princes breathed their last breaths over God’s Eye on the sixth moon of 130 AC. No one saw the battle, but the sound of snapping dragons and the sight of green and red flames that called attention.

Vhagar and Aemond both fought a valiant effort but it the wounds to both proved to be to substantial. Aemond Targaryen died on top of his crowned dragon. The burns from Vhagar burning Daemon beyond repair.

When their deaths made it back to the Red Keep, the halls recount the Queen Mother tearing her hair in anguish, calling for the deaths of not only everyone who supported Daemon, but Aegon the younger and Viserys alike.

A story of crowns and iron thrones whittled down to death and fire. The grief felt by team green only compounded by the body of Aemond’s lady wife found charred in their chambers. It was Ser Quinton, her sworn protector, who lived to tell the story of having to fight off several guards before it was too late. In a matter of days, Daella and Alaric Targaryen missing from their places in Oldtown.

Both jobs speculated to be last minute plans carried about for Daemon Targaryen, done by his loyal Gold Cloaks. It is said that King Aegon never fully recovers from the death of not only his brother, but his good sister. Punishing those he deems responsible once he comes to.

But there are merchants in Essos that believe they have spotted a beautiful lady hand in hand with her children. One with sparkling white hair, the other with blonde streaks through her dark curls.

taglist:  @florent1s @floraroselaughter @afro-hispwriter @snh96@holy-minseok @voniikg @evienorville @tremendouswolfsaladranch @crispmarshmallow @strawbrryquinn @widemiffyhappy @msmarvel-19 @dc-marvel-girl96 @xkennobi @fanfics4ever@hydrationqueensworld @lyra689 @blazzlynch @httyd-marauders@bregarc @b00kdiary @grey-water-colors @mercedesdecorazon@flowerpotmage @bstorn @poisonedsultana @papery-maniac @its-sam-allgood @yu3kkii @hvx @leoramage @neenieweenie@stargaryenx @rey26 @lazypinkpig @blackravena @s0urmarvel@elleclairez @rebelfleur22 @inpraizeof @luvremlu @clora95@blacpiink @let-love-bleeds-red @iwanttohitmyself @alastorhazbin@kitkat-writes-stuff @carrielle @aloneatpeace @ensolleildelune@landlockedmermaid77 @deadunicorn59

[would-you-punt-them]

Hello, I teach public speaking for a living.

I believe that the phrasing of your eye contact poll is giving you skewed results. The second option includes the phrase “direct eye contact is weird,” which means anyone simply uncomfortable with eye contact might be selecting it. I sincerely doubt that nearly a third of polled people on the street would say “eye contact means never looking someone in the eye, it just means looking at someone’s cheek or chin or nose.” If someone were staring at any part of my face like that, I’d assume I have something on my face.

I selected the first option. Eye contact is explicitly two individuals looking each other in the eye. Prolonged eye contact is often uncomfortable for both parties, which is why all people tend to avoid it for long periods of time - it’s common to avert eye contact mid-conversation when thinking of what to say or considering a point. When addressing a crowd of people, we encourage shifting eye contact from person to person regularly so as to make any one person uncomfortable for being singled out.

I do appreciate the phrasing of “Ideally it’s eye-to-eye contact,” because we do have a couple of tips if eye contact is uncomfortable for anyone. When addressing an audience, one trick is to look directly over the tops of people’s heads. This makes it look like you’re addressing the crowd at large without looking at anyone directly. And in one-on-one conversations, it’s worth a shot to try looking right between their eyes - doesn’t work for everyone, but it appears like you’re looking them in the eye when you’re technically not.

I believe eye contact is the best way to display emotion and garner empathy. It’s often the hardest thing for my students to commit to, but it can be practiced. Having worked with neurodivergent students as well, I’ve seen many become accustomed to it. That said, I’m fortunate enough to work in an accepting environment where most people understand that not all forms of communication are universal. One does not need eye contact to get their points across and be understood, but it does help in the larger social world.

That does actually help clear things up

I'm not sure why, but while with large crowds I predictably freeze and can't get a single word out, when it's smaller groups of people like the classes I used to teach I never really had any kind of problem, it's bizarre

I also didn't have as much of a problem when I was a cashier, I think because there's a specific structure of conversation so you know how things are supposed to go – although the second a single unknown variable was thrown into the mix it was back into meltdown

But this ask did encourage me to force myself to practice more since that poll

I tried the "look between the eyes" thing you suggested, but my gaze gets drawn to the eyes like they have a gravitational pull – so I guess it's eye-to-eye or nothing, but the instant direct eye-to-eye contact is made my vision starts to swim

Instead I've mostly been staring down poor Starbucks baristas like we're having a showdown at high noon, and I'm getting a feel for the look-away intervals now

...

...you know, when I write all this down, it sounds a lot more embarassing than it did in my head

(but fr, this has really helped me improve /gen)

(link to the poll to avoid scrolling)

[mandobatemans]

intrigue (Tom Wambsgans x f!reader)

warnings: infidelity, fingering, unprotected piv sex, soft!dom tom, size kink kinda, biting, greg, do NOT have sex with the head of conservative news organizations irl!!!, i am a shivcel fr anything negative abt shiv in here i didn't mean it ily siobhan 🫶, NSFW UNDER THE CUT

word count: 4,740 (i got carried away)

A/N: this is loosely based on s4 e7 but there's no real timeline so it probably takes place like somewhere around season 3 or 4? this is my first succ fic so...enjoy 🤗 & also this took me SO long to write i'm so deeply sorry to anyone who was waiting

also posted to ao3

Tom had never been a fan of the whole “open marriage” arrangement. When he thought back to that fateful night (fateful night…who else would say that about their wedding night?) what he remembered most was the look on Shiv’s face when she told him that she wanted an open marriage. On their wedding night.

It was more for Shiv anyway. Tom rarely thought about actually acting on the arrangement, whether it be out of love for Shiv or loyalty to her father, he wasn’t sure. Sure, he had kissed someone here or done oral there when high on coke, but he had never actually fucked anyone else.

Something was different, though, tonight. Firstly, they were hosting a Waystar/ATN event at their apartment, and despite being chairman of ATN, he wasn't even sure what the evening was for. Shiv had told him about it last minute, casually mentioning it as they were being driven to work, like it was dinner at Logan’s rather than hundreds of media moguls and politicians to host. Actually, dinner at Logan’s felt equally, if not more, important than tonight. A better equivalent for how nonchalantly Shiv had mentioned it would be Connor inviting them somewhere.

Secondly, Shiv had suggested, outright, that they both find someone to hook up with at the party tonight. Earlier in their bedroom, after getting dressed in silence, Shiv had turned to Tom while putting her earrings in to share the idea. He knew she would be acting on it whether or not he did, and why shouldn’t he? It had been a while since he had gotten laid and was verbally (and physically) assaulting Greg a lot more as a result.

Did he just pick someone? How did you approach someone and say, “Hey, I’m in an open marriage but I’ve never actually done anything more than get my dick sucked with anyone else…anyway, let’s fuck!”

Tom fidgeted with his glass as he surveyed the room.

Despite your personal beliefs and the endless human rights violations that Waystar was affiliated with, their (and by extension ATN) events were some of the most lavish you'd ever attended. As a political journalist, it was standard for your company to send a journalist or two to whatever soirée the Roys were throwing. Everyone took turns, and this time you had drawn the short straw. It hadn’t been too bad so far, you thought, although perhaps you were jinxing yourself. You had kept to yourself mostly, chatting with other journalists you frequently saw around the city on assignments, snacking on the hors d'oeuvres, and listening to the ridiculous conversations political and media bigwigs were having.

You had been to an event hosted by the Roys before, but they were usually at ATN, Waystar, or some expensive venue. Being invited as a member of the press to Shiv Roy’s apartment felt strangely intimate. You were certain this was some calculated business move on the part of one Roy or the other, but you honestly didn’t really care. Whatever drama was happening within Waystar Royco was contained within the Roy family. You were simply here to supplement a piece your coworker was writing on the atmosphere of this political season.

It was only an hour into the party when you had collected all the quotes and interviews you needed, and sampled almost all of the hors d'oeuvres. Your boss expected journalists to stay for most, if not all, of the night for these things, in case some political bombshell were to happen. You were pretty sure nothing too monumental was going to happen in this room full of suits, especially with all of the Roys notably absent from the festivities. Even Shiv, whose house it was, looked like she wasn't paying any attention to what was going on in her home. In fact, she had been in the corner all night, talking to some prominent New York and D.C. women, important enough that you knew their faces but not important enough for you to attach any names to them.

You checked your phone for the time. You could probably get away with leaving in another hour if you made up some family emergency as an excuse for your editor. Even another hour seemed like ages. Maybe you could re-interview some people? Speak to some guests whose quotes would never make it in the article just to kill time? Sighing, you opened your messages, thumbs hovering over the chat with your editor, putting your journalism degree to use by brainstorming an excuse to get you back home in your bed before ten o’clock. When you turned around to pace while you typed (a nervous habit), you found yourself face-to-face with one of your hosts.

It felt like a fucking cliché. Literally bumping into someone at a party? If one of your writer friends wrote something like this, you'd tell them it was bullshit and things like that didn't happen in real life. Yet here you were, inches away from–

“Tom Wambsgans, Chairman of Global Broadcast News at ATN.” He introduced himself, reaching out a hand for you to shake.

You returned the handshake, grateful that he wasn’t offended by you bumping into him. “I know who you are.”

“And I know who you are.” He paused. “That sounded stalkerish, didn’t it? I meant, I know who you are because I’ve read your articles.”

“You have?” You were surprised. Your company and your articles in particular were considered left-leaning, the very opposite of the stories ATN ran.

He nodded. “Gotta keep up with the competition. I’ve seen some of your features on the network, as well.”

“Really? I would have thought you would just watch ATN all day,” you teased.

Tom made a face and then shook his head. “No, no, no. Plus, I wouldn’t really call any of our journalists ‘journalists’ so much as pretty faces. You do your own research and look good on the camera. That’s impressive.”

You raised an eyebrow and Tom’s eyes widened, processing what he had just said.

“God, I do sound like a fucking stalker.”

You laughed, “Just a little bit.” You let him cringe for a second, then smiled to reassure him. “No, but I’ve seen some of your interviews since you took over ATN. You look good on the camera, too.” You paused, before adding, “Maybe that makes us both a little stalkerish.”

His eyes lit up at your response, earning a genuine laugh (the first one that night not faked for some suit, he noted).

“Uh, sorry for bumping into you. I wasn't looking where I was going,” you explained, waving your phone in your hand for context.

“Ah, cell phone. The curse of the twenty-first century.”

You furrowed your brow involuntarily for a moment. He wasn't how you expected the spouse of a Roy to be like. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, you weren't yet sure.

“I’m making a huge ass of myself, aren't I?” He sighed. “I’ll leave you to the party–”

“No! It’s okay. Stay,” you heard yourself say. It was Tom’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Okay. You found him attractive. And even despite his eccentric comments, you also found yourself wanting to talk to him more. You were, however, purposely avoiding looking at the wedding ring on his finger.

To Tom, it all seemed too perfect. You, for example. He was being honest when he said he had seen and read some of your work and that he enjoyed it, and he did sometimes watch other networks to get an idea of the competition, but he had left out the fact that there was something about you in particular that made him watch the entire segment when you happened to be on air. And the fact that sometimes he'd scroll through your articles online and imagine you reading them aloud to him. But he wasn’t a stalker. And now you were here, in his house, on the night that his wife had all but shoved him into the bed of anyone that he wanted.

But still; one pleasant, slightly flirtatious conversation didn't mean you wanted to ride off into the sunset with him. Or, more accurately, go upstairs with him.

He scanned the room for Siobhan. Although it had been her suggestion, and he knew she had acted on the arrangement before, he still felt like it was somehow a trap. Like she’d hire someone to hide behind the bedroom door that night and catch him with his pants down (literally) to use as blackmail.

But sure enough, she was across the room, laughing at something some lobbyist had said, and resting her hand on the other woman’s arm slightly longer than a casual touch would last.

The longer he thought about it, the more confident he felt. If you were interested, he wanted to spend the night with you. And maybe more. But he was getting ahead of himself.

“It's kind of loud over here. Come on,” he gestured with his head toward the opposite corner of the apartment, one not occupied by any guests save for an elderly politician snoring on the couch.

You followed him, nodding when he asked if you wanted another drink before picking a champagne flute off of a passing server’s tray. He handed it to you once you reached the corner, your hands touching during the exchange. It seemed like even more of a cliché to feel sparks fly at this tiny touch, so you ignored that, as well.

“You host these kinds of things often?” You asked, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of your champagne. The room was full of very important people, though none of them seemed to be talking about very important things. You couldn't quite wrap your head around why a high-level executive who had married into one of the largest media conglomerates was wasting his time talking to you (flirting with you?), but you had seen stranger things in this city.

He grimaced and shook his head. “No, no. I’m usually just a guest.” Tom laughed and took a sip of his drink. “And not a very important one, at that.”

“I’m sure that's not true. I mean, how many people watch ATN? And you’re in charge of what airs or doesn't air.”

“1.89 million,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, “Outside of the office, nobody’s really worried about what I think.”

“Not even your wife?” You stopped after you said the words, giving your brain a second to catch up with your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean any disrespect, I–”

“No, no, no, no, it’s okay,” he assured you, reaching out to rest a hand on yours consolingly. Tom leaned in closer so only you would hear him, unnecessary considering the secluded corner you two were in.

“But no, not even my wife.”

Your eyes darted to his hand atop yours, suddenly aware of how large his hands were. They almost completely covered yours, and they felt so comfortable and right there, like–

“We have an open marriage,” he suddenly said.

“Oh.”

Tom seemed disappointed with this reaction, quickly removing his hand from yours and adding, “That’s just to say that, our marriage is, uh, unconventional, so her not caring what I have to say isn’t that unusual.”

You were still processing the feel of his hand on yours, much less the revelation that he actually might be flirting with you and that it actually might go somewhere. By the time your thoughts caught up with you, it seemed like he was about ready to excuse himself and go scream at his reflection in the bathroom.

“Well, I’m sorry about that,” you responded, mirroring his gesture from before and resting your hand on top of his to comfort him. “You don’t deserve that, really.”

He scoffed. “You don't know what I deserve.”

You looked up at him, taking the time to absorb the look in his eyes that revealed just how much he was going through.

“Uh, Tom?”

Tom rolled his eyes and turned away from you to snap at the source of the interruption. “What, Greg? Can’t you see I’m having a conversation?”

“It’s just–well, Shiv is leaving with someone.” The taller man gestured at the door, where sure enough, Shiv was weaving her way through the crowd toward the elevators with the lobbyist from earlier, her hand guiding her by the small of her back.

Tom bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, Greg, we do have an open marriage. So, everything’s fine. Now, scram.”

Greg looked between the two of you and hesitated for a second before nodding and disappearing back into the bustle of the party.

Tom turned back to you. “That’s Shiv’s cousin, Greg. I’ve sort of taken him under my corporate wing, so to speak. Showing him the ropes and all that.”

You nodded, finishing your champagne.

“Well,” he said.

“Well,” you echoed.

He paused for a minute, though it seemed to last much longer than that. “You’re writing an article about this party, right?”

“Yeah,” you responded, unsure of where he was going with this.

Tom leaned in, lowering his voice. “What would your editor say if you got a behind-the-scenes look at the party?”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Of course, you'd have to come upstairs…” Something shifted in his tone. You were well aware of what the change implied, and you’d be lying if you said you didn't want to jump at the offer. This wasn’t you, though. Sleeping with a married man? On top of that, not just any married man, but the host of the party that you were covering for work. It sounded like a problem you’d encounter on an Intro to Ethics exam. But any moral qualms you had about the issue were pushed out of your head when you registered the way Tom was looking at you.

“Of course,” you repeated, nonchalantly, setting your empty champagne glass on a nearby table.

Something flickered in Tom’s eyes. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, Wambsgans,” you replied, gesturing dramatically.

Neither of you spoke for the entire walk away from the excitement of the party to the quiet of Tom’s bedroom. It looked much like you had expected it to look: modern, chic, and impersonal. You were sure Tom (or Shiv) had some personal items somewhere in the house, but the bedroom was so clean and styled that the only indication anyone slept or dressed in there was some of Shiv’s makeup and jewelry strewn haphazardly on the vanity.

When he had closed the door behind you, Tom stepped closer to you experimentally, as if he was afraid you'd flee like a wild deer if he moved too fast. You stepped closer as well, which seemed to give Tom the permission he was looking for. Within seconds, his mouth was on yours, his hands cupping your face, all tongue and teeth. There was hunger and desperation in the kiss, but it was hypnotizing, beckoning you deeper and deeper. He was almost doubled over to reach you (god, he was tall), so you shifted your weight to stand on your tiptoes.

Tom broke the kiss, leaving you with a confused look on your face.

He shed his suit jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Next, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Tugging on the length of his tie, he loosened it enough to undo a few buttons at his collar, revealing an inviting expanse of chest hair.

“Turn around,” he told you, snapping you out of your male-stripper-fantasy gaze.

You did as he said, something in his tone going straight to your core. You felt him run his hands from your shoulders down your arms, then down your hips and up to your waist, the action bunching up the fabric of your dress. He moved your hair to the side, pressing hot kisses to your neck that made your eyes roll back.

“Can I take this off?” He whispered, his lips trailing up to your ear.

You nodded in response, trembling momentarily under his touch. Tom unzipped your dress, helping you push it down your body and step out of it. He unhooked the back of your bra without moving further. It occurred to you then how wrong this was, to be sleeping with someone else’s husband in their own bedroom, but to your surprise, you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the heat of Tom’s gaze on your bare back. You took your bra off the rest of the way and discarded it on the ground next to your dress. Once in only your underwear, you turned back around to face him, watching his eyes follow every curve of your body to drink in the newly exposed skin.

“Wow,” he said, simply, reaching out to grab you by the hips and pull you closer to him. “You’re gorgeous.”

Grinning, you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him again, cradling his face in your hands. You felt him smile back into your kiss. Before you knew it, he had you pressed against the wall, totally enclosed by his larger form. He went from kissing you on your lips to your neck to behind your ear to your chest, as if he couldn't decide which spot deserved the most attention or for how long.

One of his hands slid down to the waistband of your underwear, the cold metal of his wedding ring a shock against your hot skin. You made eye contact with him as his hand slipped between the fabric and your skin cup your cunt, whining when you felt his touch. He seemed to get off on that, capturing you in a kiss again at the same time he slipped a digit into your wet heat. You were too hot; you pressed your hand to his chest to stabilize yourself and pushed your underwear down your legs and kicked them off. Tom smiled at this, getting right back to pumping his finger in and out at a pace that almost made you melt down the wall.

It was probably a power trip thing, you thought, you totally naked and him almost fully clothed. You didn't mind because it was kinda hot, but it wasn't what you had expected from Tom based on the unassuming, Midwestern image of him that was circulated in columns and by the Roys themselves. But, then again, you hadn't expected to find yourself in this position at all when you left your apartment earlier that night.

The pace of his fingers felt so good, so intoxicating, that now that you had him, you needed more of him.

“A-another one,” you whined between kisses.

When you opened your eyes to look at him, Tom had a smug look on his face. Sure, it was arrogant, but it turned you on, so who really cared? “Yeah?” he asked, “You want another one?”

“Tom,” you hissed, gripping onto his shoulder as his finger curled in just the right way that it made your legs go numb.

The look remained on his face, but he added another finger nonetheless. Tom appeared to inhabit both extremes when it came to sex: he really wanted to pleasure you but he also really wanted to do what he wanted. Luckily, those two wants aligned.

He was making you feel so good that you needed to have more of him. Your kisses got sloppier, each so desperate to be further molded with one another that your tongues tried to push impossibly further into the other’s. Tom shifted his hand so he could angle his thumb to rub slow, tantalizing circles on your clit as he continued to pump his fingers. Your grip on his shoulder tightened–you feared your fingernails would leave dents in his skin–but like so many other things tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could feel the pressure rising in your middle, your cunt clenching around his fingers in anticipation of your impending orgasm, but then it stopped.

You opened your eyes that you hadn't realized were squeezed shut to look at Tom, who had his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with your slick. “Open,” he encouraged. You obeyed, accepting his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean with a ‘pop.’ He stared at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. He jerked his head toward the bed. “Sit.”

There was authority in his commands, but you didn’t fear him; from the short amount of time you had spent with him, you knew he was at his core a sweet man. You would admit to yourself that you had been curious how his awkward, nervous energy would translate into the bedroom, but once alone, he seemed to be a different man.

You watched him strip off the rest of his clothes eagerly, smiling up at him once he rejoined you on the bed totally naked. He must’ve noticed you staring, because he asked: “Do you want me to put on a condom?”

You shrugged, shifting your eyes back up to his own. “No, it’s okay. I'm on birth control.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. I don't even know if I have one in here.”

“Then why’d you ask?” You laughed, encouraged by the smile that crossed his face when you did so.

“Seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. If you said yes, I would’ve sent someone to go get one or borrowed one from–”

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Just fuck me already.”

“Alright. If you say so,” he teased, leaning down over you to kiss you. Both your lips were red and puffy from all the kissing and some biting, but it didn’t matter. You could feel his cock pushing against your stomach from the angle, so you reached down to take him in your hand and pump his length.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your skin, face buried in your neck as he pressed kisses to the every inch of available flesh, “Fuck…Can I?”

“Please,” you responded, noticing a little desperate hitch in your voice that you ignored. Tom licked his hand and cupped your sex with it, running the pads of his middle fingers through your folds a few times to collect the wetness between your legs. Gently, he guided his length into your opening

inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort before bottoming out.

You should’ve expected his dick to be big from his height, the size of his hands, his nose, whatever, but you hadn’t considered just how big. It was quite a stretch to take him fully, but he gave you all the time you needed to adjust and get comfortable. When you were ready, you bucked your hips up into his to give him the okay.

Tom took your permission to move and ran with it, grabbing your left leg and placing it over his shoulder before pressing you down further into the mattress with his body weight so he could thrust into you at a deeper angle.

You lifted your head to meet him to return to making out, the sensation of his tongue down your throat even more erotic now that he was inside of you, as well.

His thrusts were deep but not as aggressive as he had been with his fingers. He wouldn’t vocalize this, or even admit to himself that he was thinking this, but he wanted this to last. As much as it was supposed to be a hookup–emotionless sex–he found himself wanting it to happen again, despite his attempts to push those thoughts deep into the recesses of his mind.

One arm was thrown around Tom’s neck, hand gripping a fistful of his hair. Your other hand went down to your clit, beginning to rub circles to match the pace of his thrusts.

“You wanna cum again?” He teased, “Again, when I haven't cum once?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, playfully, slipping your finger down from your clit to lightly stroke the length of his cock that wasn't fully inside of you.

He let out a moan, eyes twinkling as he snapped his hips a little harder, snickering when you gasped in response.

Tom caught you in another kiss, resting his weight on his forearm that was positioned next to your head. You arched your back up into him, urging him deeper, which he obliged. “Touch yourself,” he said, disconnecting his mouth from yours just long enough to give the command.

You smiled into his lips, rubbing your clit again as his thrusts became sloppier and jerkier. He was holding on until you came again, despite his earlier cockiness. The moment he felt your walls tighten around him, he let go, spilling inside of you with a grunt.

He pulled out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

Tom was still catching his breath, and you watched his chest heave for a few moments. “Hey, you okay?” He asked. “Everything alright?”

You smiled, nodding and reaching over to kiss him again. “I'm good, yeah. You?”

“Perfect, actually.” Tom smiled back at you. He found himself lost in the moment, lost in your eyes, lost in the connection you two had just had, and it was too much for him. Quickly, he sat up, ready to change the subject. “You need to clean up?”

You furrowed your brow at the sudden shift in his demeanor, but going along with it nonetheless. Despite him just having been inside you, you didn't feel like it was your place to mention the change. “Yeah. Can I?” You asked, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Go ahead. Towels are above the sink.”

You flung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, heading toward the bathroom. “I’ll just clean off real quick, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No, no, no. I mean, you can stay the night. If you’d like, that is. I could call you a car, though, if I’ve made some awful faux pas and you don’t want to look at me for another–”

“Tom.” He focused on you again after his brief spiral. “I would like to stay.”

He grinned. “Great, that's great.”

“Just let me–” You waved your hands around your lower body, “–clean all this up.”

“Yeah, of course, sure. I’ll be here.” He added the last part in a quasi-sing-song voice.

At the sound of the shower turning on, Tom rose to locate his clothes and try to clean up. He pulled his boxers back on, taking his dress shirt, pants, & jacket to be thrown into the hamper. They really should be dry-cleaned, he considered, but found that he couldn’t be bothered. As for your clothes, he wasn’t sure what exactly to do with them, so he laid your dress across a chair in the bedroom and left your bra and underwear on the floor. He was still considering whether he should pick them up or not when you came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your torso.

Once you had dressed in your undergarments again and Tom had given you an undershirt to sleep in, you started to wonder what all this meant. If it had just been a hookup, why were you staying the night? You had thought you’d feel dirty and disgusted with yourself, spending the night in someone else’s bed with someone else’s husband, but you didn’t. You didn’t know what that said about you, what it meant that you were perfectly comfortable talking into the night with Tom, both laughing and sharing stories long after you had agreed to turn the lights off and get some sleep. That almost made it worse, you thought, that it wasn’t just sex. That made it dangerous.

After you had drifted off, Tom spent a few minutes watching you sleep. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, watching the worries of the day wash off your face while you slept. He knew it was wrong to be more comfortable in this bed with you than he was with his own wife. But that was something to deal with (or repress) in the morning. Here, now, with you wrapped in his and Shiv’s bedsheets, your form against his chest rising and falling with his breaths, he could pretend it was meant to be like this.

@swiftcession @greenwrldsz @zirrocom @lukas-matsson @ledtassoo @bluecruz97 @rita-lean @grainyimag3

[pxeachfuzz]

Hello... I'd like to formally let you know how much your most recent Pierrette and Pierro piece makes me smile. I'm a gay guy and your oc Pierro makes me feel so so so.. Real and loved...? if that makes any sense at all. "he's just like me fr". it feels like youre targeting me specifically i'm soo him you made an oc that is Me on accident. SORRY if this is a weirdo thing to say but... i like him. her and pierrette make me so happy. Ummmmmmm yeah thats all. I hope you have a wonderful dayyyy!!!! I love you, stranger! <3

this comment means so much to me, thank you so much! i’m extremely happy to hear that you can connect with something i made so deeply like that!! you have no idea!!! i hope you have a wonderful day too! here’s some pictures i’ve made of pierrette and pierro recently. it’s been so long since i’ve drawn either of them its funny you sent this ask right as i started thinking about magecirque again, it’s my favorite thing EVER

the first is some old art i colored, second is pierrette in one of sally bowles’ outfits from cabaret, and the third is a picture just for YOU! thank you for taking interest in my ocs it makes me very happy! i love you too, stranger!

[pancakesr4theweak]

“𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓔𝔂𝓮𝓼”✒🦇

SCREAMING TO THE H E A V E N S RIGHT NOW...OH MY GOD I FINALLY FINISHED- THIS TOOK ALL DAY LOOK AT FUMI AND ROHAN IMCRYING I ADORE THEM SO FREAKIN MUCH OHMYGOD THEY ARE SO PRESCIOUS AND IN LOVE DYING AND SOBBING ON THE FLOOR!?!!??!?! PLEASE I ADORE THEM SO MUCH IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE SERIOUSLY DRAWN THEM ALSO OFC THERE IS A BAJILLION VERSIONS AAAAA <3!!!

SO SORRY FOR THE LONG POST TEEHHEEE DIES ON THE FLOOR!!!! Nah but fr..They are so special to me, and I cannot believe I have had them for 5/6 YEARS?!?!?!?!?!? MY GOD....Literally Fumi means so much to me and Rohan is just my ultimate comfort character, it's silly but he saved my life through some really rough times..And errmm oh yeah duhhh we're married (reAL)..Anyways enjoy the doofuses

Likes, shares, saves, and comments are super duper appreciated! Thanks and enjoy~💚

⚠️DO NOT REPOST, OR TRACE MY WORK.⚠️

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Today’s batch of replies~ Since we had a Crewel day yesterday, there are some asks related to him (and Trein) in here. But as always, also a bunch of miscellaneous ones…

Anonymous asked:

I want to eat your art respectfully with a side of salad and a few cups of wine. Your newest picture of Divus got me remembering why I chose to be 🐩 anon despite being GloMas anon for awhile. Got me barking and being absolutely feral, I wish he'd walk me like a dog 🫠

Ah 🐩 anon, you’re as kind as always. Thank you so much!

From the GloMas anon to the pup anon, just the way Divus would have wanted it lol I’m very happy you liked how he turned out!

Anonymous asked:

This randomly came to me in the form of a nap, enjoy.

Crewel sleeps with Trein but Trein isn't as flexible nor springy as the normal people Crewel fucks. Anyways to the point, Crewel accidentally hositizalizes Trein so when he returns to work a week later.. Crewel doesn't let him live it down and neither does the students once they find out (be fr, Azul has blackmail on ALL the staff) ~ 🐩 anon

Oh how mean! As if it isn’t Crewel’s fault and Trein didn’t warn you that his body probably can’t handle as much >C Crewel would definitely hospitalize this grandpa one day, he doesn’t seem like someone who can be careful, this wicked, wicked man.

Poor Azul though, the blackmail is useless when all the students know about the thing already. But you know, I’m sure some of the students would be super amused and find it funny, but some of them would genuinely pity Trein lol

Anonymous asked:

Hey ryuichi, Have you ever thought of drawing Young Trein? I always wondered what he might have looked like when he was younger. Maybe he had brown hair? 🤔🤔

Technically I have drawn him (I’ve drawn flashbacks of him and Crewel) buuuut I always forget about the fact that Trein looked younger back then. For some reason he’s just always a 60 y.o. grandpa in my drawings lol Maybe one day I’ll draw him in his 40s… Since his supposed daughters (or at least their prototypes…) have black and ginger hair, and I don’t see him as a ginger at all, I would go with either black or dark brown.

Anonymous asked:

I wonder how Crewel feel on meeting young Trein?

I feel like his feelings wouldn’t change much, especially if Trein acts like his old self. If the chemistry is there (and it’s not going anywhere lol), Crewel would definitely be just as into him.

But also, since young Trein isn’t a grandpa, Crewel wouldn’t hold back with him at all. If Trein suddenly got younger for some reason, Crewel’s first thought would probably be “oh now I can do whatever I want” lol

Anonymous asked:

In regards to RookVil being Epel's parents, I can't really see Rook as a father figure. To me he gives off 'Bodyguard of your new step-parent that they've been banging on the side long before they met your parent' vibes.

I get it, Anon, and honestly these vibes are also great lol

I guess we just have different “images” of fathers in our heads, which is totally okay. When I joke about Rook being “fatherly” towards Epel, it’s usually a “that dad who just smiles at you and doesn’t interrupt your fight with your mom, because “you know your mom is always right sweetie” but would give you headpats and a cookie afterwards” thing. This + just how genuinely excited he gets when Epel gets better at magic, how eager he is to share this with Vil + the fact that he helps Epel with his homework/lab stuff, frankly. Doesn’t necessarily mean that he is “a father”, just a “kind of fatherly and mom’s partner” figure….  Or a “bodyguard of your new step-parent that they’ve been banging on the side long before they met your parent” even lol

Once again, it’s completely up to your personal preference. Like I already said, it’s just one of many ways to read it and one of many many angles of their dynamic, not just “aw look at our baby”. Epel is much more than a baby to them. These three are kind of cursed to be honest lol but in a good way.

Anonymous asked:

SHAKES YOU I JUST SAW THE DRAMATICAL MURDER TWEELS ART DRAMATICAL MURDERRRR EXCEPT VIRUS AND TRIP HAVE YOU THOUGHT WHO ELSE IN TWST MIGHT FIT THE ROLES OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS? BC IF IDIA IS AOBA THEN I GENUINELY THINK ORTHO WOULD BE REN OR SEI OR *EXPLODES*

LOL ANOOOON YES YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT ALL THE RIGHT THINGS!!!

We honestly haven’t thought about the rest of the cast, and it’s funny because Aoba technically has two whole android boys love interests; one of them being Clear and the other one being Ren (kind of sort of). And I haven’t even considered Clear as an option to be honest, Ren/Sei sounds like such an obvious choice LOL DOG ORTHO

What’s also funny is that despite the fact that Idia is clearly Aoba, he is also…clearly Noiz, isn’t he? In a lot of ways…

Anonymous asked:

dorm heads from most to least favorite?

This is SUCH a cruel question; with twst in general when I look at almost any character I always go “god you are my absolute favourite” lol So I can’t answer without cheating a little bit!

In my head Idia and Azul are fighting for the first place, Vil and Malleus are fighting for the second place, Riddle and Kalim are fighting for the third place, and Leona is the fourth.

And it kind of pains me that Riddle is currently the 3rd, but having three people fighting over the second place is just silly.

Anonymous asked:

I really enjoy seeing azuidi interact with each other ( it doesn't matter if it's romantic or platonic) because the two of them could start in a comedy sitcom with how funny they interact with each other. I would totally watch that too.

Like, imagine Idia walking up to Azul being like, "Would you still love me if i was a worm 🥺👉🏻👈🏻" and Azul, being Azul, would take this seriously and be like "which kind of worm we're talking about. The kind that eats books? A parasitic worm? Or a regular worm that crawls around in the dirt?". And idia would be like, "You're no fun, Azul-shii." 🙄

THEY’RE SO FUNNY TOGETHER ANON; we’re rewatching Glorious Masquerade right now and every single interaction these two have is ABSOLUTELY GOLDEN. They would make a hilarious sitcom lol

Azul taking stupid meme questions way too seriously is such an Azul thing to do 😭 He really is no fun. He probably already came out with a couple of plans to monetize different worm options….

I think one of the things that make them funny is that either of them could be a butt of a joke. Both of them are unhinged in different ways, so both of them could do “wow you are not well, it’s kind of worrying and embarrassing” depending on their situation.

Anonymous asked:

Thoughts on Jack x Leona?

Not much; we don’t really ship them. I like the fact that Jack is confused about Leona though; like he is supposed to respect him and consider him a leader, but he doesn’t like the way he acts and treats others. This is an interesting conflict.

Anonymous asked:

have you ever read the reddit cylinder thread?

Now I have….

I hope the cylinder is okay…

Which one of the NRC boys….

[whumpy-wyrms]

are u in any fandoms? what are ur interests besides whump? u don’t have to answer i’m just curious!!

someone’s asking me about my interests i can’t NOT answer

this got a bit long tho so i’m putting it under the read more for people who don’t care/are only here for the whump

OKOK. so i’m kinda in the starkid/nerdy prudes must die fandom rn but i know for a fact if i finished adventure time and started watching fiona and cake, that would quite literally become my entire personality for the next 3 months because simon and prismo (and marceline and princess bubblegum and all my other favorite characters) make me insane. but i haven’t done that because well. i’ve gotta write tllr yknow..

anyway, my absolute most favorite pieces of media of all time are undertale and deltarune guys. i cant put in words how much those games mean to me holy shit. as i’m writing this i’m sitting next to my jevil and sans and spamton plushie and they are saying hi. anywayyy yeah i was in the deltarune fandom for a bit it was fun. spamton is silly fucked up creature. jevil is my all time favorite tho

AND THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES… my favorite thing ever fr. y’all. LISTEN TO TMA SERIOUSLY YOU’LL PROBABLY LIKE IT!! it’s a horror podcast and it’s seriously the best fuckinf thing ever it’s so amazing seriously. it’s a bit hard to get into at first because season 1 is less story driven BUT HOLY SHIT. AHHHH ITS SO FUCKING GOOD. jon is one of my favorite blorbos ever and so is michael because he’s a silly distortion guy. just trust me and listen to TMA it will actually change your life.

also i love the amazing world of gumball so fucking much. i wasn’t allowed to watch cartoon network as a kid (idk why??) so i first watched tawog last year and holy shit holy shit it’s my favorite thing ever. rob. ROB!!!! ROB IS MY ALL TIME FAVORITE CHARACTER. SO IS MR SMALL. AHHHH!!!! anyway i love tawog i’ve drawn a lot of fanart and even wrote a 60k word fanfiction (about what happens after The Inquisition because that ending fucked me up) that i’ve Never and will probably never show anyone because it’s probably Not that good. but it was sooo Important to me back then. tawog just means so much to me it :))) it changed me as a person. nobody’s a nobody and everybody is weird like you and me.

i also really like hollow knight! i haven’t played it in a while but i was at 111% completion on one of my playthroughs (CURSE YOU PANTHEON 4). i’m also super fucking excited for silksong obviously and i will say this now: WHEN SILKSONG FINALLY RELEASES… i will probably go on hiatus here LMAO. sorry but guys. SILKSONG…. honestly same for new deltarune chapters. the second chapters 3, 4, and 5 release it is sooo over for me. i probably won’t post much here for a few months during that. but that’s fine!! i’ll never abandon tllr but sometimes some things are more important to my silly little brain :3

gravity falls quite literally changed my life in 2018. like i can’t even explain it, but it’s how i was introduced to online fandoms and fanart in general. dipper LITERALLY made me trans (not literally but pretty much). it’s how i started watching other amazing cartoons and series i love, it’s literally what made me get into drawing art and writing and stuff. it’s what made me start making ocs. it literally made me an artist guys. which is how i started writing. without gravity falls and it’s effect it had on me, this account might have never existed?? i’m being super dramatic but wowww. i was so autistic about that silly cartoon

minecraft i love. i’ve been playing minecraft for over a decade and won’t stop because it’s like, probably a special interest of mine? i’ve watch minecraft youtubers forever too, hermitcraft and the life series are my favorite. i’m a huge grian fan too, been watching him since the evo days. anyway if u play minecraft and wanna play with me sometime, feel free to ask!!! :D i love making new friends and playing video games with people!!! let’s make a world together!!!

also i like terraria and stardew valley, and animal crossing new horizons but i haven’t played that in a few years. hmm other games i like are oneshot game, NITW, omori, celeste, cuphead, fnaf (although i’ve only played the first 5 games and am super super behind on the lore), ori, dead cells, untitled goose game (this is for u anon), and probably more i’m forgetting! feel free to recommend me some video games and we can even play together :3

other series i love are the umbrella academy. soooo autistic about this show it’s fucking AMAZING!!!!!! klaus is my favorite character. anyway i also like what we do in the shadows. it made me super autistic about vampires (before i watched this show i kinda thought vampires were cringe IDK WHY I’M SORRYY). the netflix show lucifer made me insane a few years ago and is what probably indirectly inspired me to give Dew wings. i also like our flag means death, breaking bad, moon knight, and camp here in there (another podcast i HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend, will wood made the soundtrack!)

i LOVEEE FINAL SPACE!! avocato has been my pfp on this account forever and now i feel like i can’t ever change it (i don’t want to). final space is seriously amazing!!! but it was cancelled and basically got fucked over by the networks- infinity train style. idk, stuff happened and it was removed from hbo max so there’s not really anywhere to watch it (legally) except for netflix international iirc? but it’s getting removed from that too i think. super fucking sad :( it ended on a huge cliffhanger too BUT there is a graphic novel being made!!!! super excited about that!

other cartoons i like are over the garden wall (dressed up as wirt for halloween last year), the owl house, adventure time, regular show, steven universe, infinity train, bojack horseman, rick and morty, mlp, the midnight gospel, and so much more i’m forgetting. OH anime i like are death note, demon slayer (haven’t caught up yet on the latest seasons tho), and MOB PSYCHO 100!! vampire in the garden on netflix is really amazing as well.

this is sooo long but now i gotta talk about my favorite music artists. WILL WOOD (AND THE TAPEWORMS) IS MY FAVORITEEE. I ALSO LOVEEE JHARIAH!!! AND HARLEY POE!!!!! top three of all time. i also like toby fox obviously, and glass beach (LITERALLY GOING TO SEE THEM IN MARCH AND I AM SOOO EXCITED!!!), mcr, shayfer james, weezer, mitski, lemon demon, set it off, tally hall, gerard way, and probably more i’m forgetting. i also like musicals!! (i was in the spongebob musical earlier this year for school! i was larry the lobster :))

so guys. GUYSSS. IF YOU LIKE MUSICALS, GO WATCH NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE!!!! OR JUST WATCH THE ENTIRE HATCHETFEILD TRILOGY!!! WHILE UR AT IT, WATCH ALL THE STARKID MUSICALS ACTUALLY!!! this is my current hyperfixation. the lords in black are amazing, npmd is amazing. i love everything about it. go watch it seriously, it’s fucking awesome and the soundtrack is AMAZING!!!

i think this is it. this got super long but i’m super passionate about my interests so yeah. this is pretty much everything. one very important thing (literally my special interest) that i didn’t mention are my other ocs. i have wayyy more ocs that are completely separate from the tllr ones. i don’t wanna post about them here though, cuz they’re not whump related and i want to keep my main account separate from this account. but they’re my favorite blorbos in existence so…

if u WANT to know about my other ocs, u can feel free to dm me for the username of my other fandom/oc account. that’s where i post other stuff that i don’t post here, like my fanart and my other oc stuff. i don’t post writing or anything like that there, so ur not missing out on that.

anyway those are most of my main interests! things i didn’t mention that im also really interested in are reptiles (snakes specifically), and animals in general. i have two leopard geckos named Lars and Alphys and i reallyyyy want a pet snake but my family hates snakes :(( anyway i’m rambling

thanks for the ask!!

[waters-and-the-wilde]

HEY @kyliebyelie I had a weird couplea weeks but I did say I would yell about Nureyev and Vespa some more so *launches enrichment pumpkins*

also OG post thread for anyone who wants context it was just getting a little unwieldy

First off! re: Nureyev still being willing to bet on the hope that Juno would still vouch for him – I’ve also been thinking about how he had to be willing to bet that it wouldn’t backfire on Juno. Like, ‘you have no idea how much I did to keep the Kanagawas off you’. The fact that tying Juno’s name to his own work could have very easily painted a target on him. Even if he couldn’t have known that Buddy and Jet were going to pull a ‘come with me if you want to live’, the fact that he put Juno on their radar suggests that he trusted Buddy to begin with. To not threaten Juno, or to use Juno to threaten Nureyev. Jet talks about how the criminal reputation informs a potential employer that their prospective is reliable, but it also must work in reverse – that a potential boss won’t screw you over.

re: Nureyev being a fan is something I think about A Normal Amount

You’ve absolutely nailed the whole vibe of their communication styles, the chain reaction of politeness/rudeness → perception of emotions and control → measurement of honesty → how that exacerbates the friction, like that is such a good breakdown goddamn.

to add to that since I am constantly frothing like the cappuccino about the concept of 'solid coping mechanisms that backfire in the wrong situations' so for your consideration: one of those pesky little first rules of thieving being 'don’t rise to the bait’. Oh it was intended for Being In Situations with weird rich people or standoffs with other criminals, but when it's his default setting for responding to things, it's just gonna just drive the wedge that much further every time Vespa questions his integrity and he doesn't show where he keeps his Give A Damn. (And it's probably even harder to untangle as a 'no that's for jobs not your personal life' thing when it still has its legitimate applications in his personal life, bc Juno’s own survival reflex MO is ‘how fast can I piss somebody off to find out what I need to know’ and that ability to stay focused and letting him know when that's uncalled for is probably extremely necessary for the both of them)

‘Vespa is terrifying’ – okay so funnily enough! i'd been telling @one-joe-spoopy (pssst hey come look I've got enrichment pumpkins!) about my headcanon of 'ranked order of members of the Carte Blanche crew by how much they scare him and why number one hands down goes to Rita,' which is a whole post in itself but long story short, I think out of everybody he gets the most sense of security around Vespa (though she probably still does terrify him, like, a normal amount and for the exact reasons you described, especially pre/during Man In Glass.)

Basically the concept I’ve been toying with (and I think moreso in a later, probably post-Cyberbots context given some time to settle in) is that her opinion of him is decided and earning her approval under the circumstances is What We Call A Non-Starter. When he's reflexively trying to manage everyone's expectations and invested in their approval, and realizes in no uncertain terms that he can't win Vespa over as long as the name thing is a going concern, the pressure’s off a bit there. Though not in the healthiest of ways, necessarily, if he’s just more comfortable with letting her believe what she wants about him because that’s how he usually deals with people.

And another aspect of this sense of security dovetails with your previous points about how Vespa and Juno are more reactive than performative, how they wear their principles on their sleeves and others recognize them as genuine. I bet Nureyev absolutely knows better than to make the comparison in her earshot, but I can see him just sorta unable to help liking her for the same reasons he’s drawn to Juno – he can brush off a little belligerence from someone whose integrity speaks for itself. Vespa abides by her own codes as well as visibly aligning herself with Buddy’s – she’s pissed about not knowing his name but won’t coerce it out of him even when the requisite leverage is right there – and like you said, she would be insulted by the idea of using underhanded means to get him fired. He knows where he stands and possibly figures that trying too hard to fix it is just going to piss her off further. And it's not like he's gonna stop being dramatic and making his gay little jokes and smooching Juno in the mess hall, he just needs to focus on comporting himself as a reliable crewmember and establishing himself the hard way with time and Buddy's family bonding activities (and yeag he wants to Get A Good Grade In Crewmate which is Normal To Want and Possible To Achieve).

oooh also I’m a little fucked up on the idea of him on bedrest with his broken leg and getting filled in on what he missed during Shadows, realizing that Vespa thinks he’s got it in for her right around the same time he’s having an epiphany that he trusts her to keep him alive and patched up even if she never likes him as a person and that the shapeshifting robot impostors don't stand a chance with her around. like not only is she not the thief she was twenty years ago, she's even tougher and smarter and cooler and doing it all with the brain horrors on top.

ALSO in light of Next Page I now think about ‘hey what if he’s Inherently Suspicious of Medical Personnel due to The Trauma and did he spend a bunch of his broken leg recovery time fretting that she was going to try to wring his name out of him while he was on painkillers only she never does??’ (god there’s this one fic where he and Juno get MacGuffined into kids and she’s like. ‘well shit. yeah I could find it out but goddamn. that’s a line I just can’t cross. Not Looking At It I Do Not See It’)

gah it's just. Nureyev's trust issues are so goddamn multifaceted, like. local baby boy too trusting, gets his only security ripped out from under him, tanks his shot at happiness bc the trauma gave him suspicion, becomes the suavest charlatan in the galaxy so he doesn't get taken advantage of again, craves genuine connection but hasn't actually had a chance in the last two decades to figure out what he's like around other people for any stretch of time, also still literally paying the price for the last time and can hardly bear the thought of confiding in his new connections because there's nowhere truly safe in the galaxy he's terrified of putting a target on them.

But I think about his little 'much more so than usual these days' to Juno's sarcastic 'happy now??' and that maybe he was a lot closer to an honest version of himself on the Carte Blanche. That he was getting places, that he was trusting them with as much as he could. something something 'Peter Ransom' wasn't intended for putting at least half the truth under their noses the whole time but he kinda let it turn into that the moment he let Buddy start calling him Pete.

Handful of miscellaneous thoughts on things they have in common:

- the debts thing. Vespa of all people is the most painfully, intimately aware of what it feels like to have a life that isn't one's own, so the way she approaches Nureyev being in massive scary debt with suspicion made me go huh. so I've been thinking about that one and tbh given how she internalizes shit and doesn't entirely trust herself (and god I have to imagine that she's really messed up about how close she came to killing Buddy in Time Gone By), I think seeing her situation in Nureyev's wouldn't engender sympathy because is that because she also knows exactly what she was prepared to do to get out from under it. and is just expected to tolerate the fact that they're taking their goddamn chances on him. there's this sense of 'even if he cares. even if he thinks this is real. even if he tells himself he wants to be a part of this. who's he gonna be when push comes to shove. probably not even Steel is safe.'

- They are both extremely functional under pressure and in more in their element in full on crisis mode, and are probably spending S3 figuring out what the hell to do now that they have access to things like reliable meals. privacy. affection. (pretty sure Juno is also experiencing a similar kind of 'things... getting better? after being. really bad all the time???' and having a lot of midmorning scuffles about it)

- Also they both have their shitty dads living in their brains rent-free!! and they are never ever going to talk about it but one (1) time Nureyev hears Vespa yell 'shut the hell up old man!' from another room and. sometimes thinks that very hard in her voice when Mag's advice is being unhelpful

re: feral kittens in towels - I want them to get into it that day after Heart of It All where Juno isn't getting out of bed and isn't there to get all protective, and for once she's in a half-decent place brainwise and he's riddled with eight kinds of guilt and half on the edge of a nervous breakdown and having all of his defenses shot is actually a good thing for him because she's not actually going to do anything with the upper hand except cuss him out a little bit. Like 'I was gonna cut your throat without hesitation yesterday and you're all fine and dandy about being in the wedding party? no shut up I'm not saying you can't. it's whatever. Bud thought it would be nice and I'm not against it. I am saying. the fuck is wrong with you.' hurt can sniff out hurt in-fucking-deed. I am dying inside like the fact that Nureyev himself would prevent any closure we might have gotten between him and the Lighthouse Crew after S4 is very him and also it hurts me and I need to pick it all apart with a seam ripper and see what spills out

likewise it’s hard to picture them ever reaching an actual rapport but I can’t even tell you how many times I pictured the prison break with all of them converging before Clean Break aired, where it’s like finally sunk in that he’s on their side and she goes ‘Ransom watch my goddamn back I need to kiss my wife’

also. does anybody want. some fic? I have some job interview/Man In Glass missing scenes where i am gnawing on this at all times

[m1ckeyb3rry]

LMAOAAOA OH WAIT RLLY?? I’ve never used ibisPaint for anything more than needing to quickly get a diagram out so I wasn’t aware…if you actually want to though you could try using the airbrush on like max radius and using that to make the gradient effect plus the smudge? I don’t typically use it so I might not be grasping all the mechanics or kinks LOL but SAME I always forget he’s French LMAOOOOO

IM CRYING THE DONKEY SUIT wait imagine y/n (because otoya isn’t witty enough to say this) just is like “actually you didn’t even need the suit since you’re already an ass” LMAFOAOAD anyways I wonder how the model in the photo feels about having to wear this LORD FARQUAD UAHAHSHSHA it’s reversed instead of the giant ass chin it’s the giant ass hair LOL he definitely would NOT accept having to look up when talking to otoya (also same he could be Mike wazowski and I wouldn’t care)

HEHE TYYY WE DID!!! Lowk really nice after all the recent grass touching work I had to do and yess no lore development here LMAO tbh I don’t think I’ve ever been in any super crazy situations before I feel like the canon events don’t cross paths with me LOLLL

The Barou glowup is INSANE and NEEDED his visuals before were a bit rough oops also nagi fs!!!! I love the way his eyes are drawn now and I think they’d be really also found a stabilized style for his hair too?? I love that little wavy middle strand that goes across his nose it’s so cute

LMAOO wingman chigiri who actually knows what he’s doing but he’s late to literally every single hangout or plan they schedule and has a really bad sense of being on time which makes ever set up unnecessarily difficult (based off pwc and I forgot but floating tidbits of him taking too long to dry his hair or get ready LMAO)

YESSS to date you’re the one I trust above all else to execute any ideas I have well hehe I think my only other request was to Jeirin for the 300 event? I think it was more along the lines of just general thoughts as opposed to an actual like reader fic or anything though so amongst actual fic requests you’re my one and only!! You know your writing is insane when you’ve broken me out of my lurker stage LOL I had contemplated sending stuff like once or twice before but backtracked and never ended up doing it soooo

AHAHDSJSH yeah er Karasu content is a little dry but I think it’s still more alive than it was before…but omg Mira back in action?? Don’t push yourself too hard though LOL that’s fr kinda my philosophy though (not for writing oops lol) but if like if I wanted a really specific trinket or item I’d just go make it myself (also results in a lot of ideas and plans that don’t get executed though so uhhh don’t follow my example LMAOO) but yeahhh ATP there’s just multiple tiers of degrees of swerving LOL

This is like those behind the scenes documentaries of like “the making of” the original Otoya plan is insane but I’m glad it got to where it is now!! I agree I think the aegislash arc wouldn’t be the same if it were otoya instead of nagi LOL and I think the underground smuggling ring arc would also feel different if Otoya was the lead

FIVE MONTHS time is a scary construct….I was not ready to be slapped by that fact omg….but hmmm well if tumblrs anything like other social media a big part of it probably just ends up being the algorithm based off the time of day you post plus consistency (I remember influencers would make so many “tutorials” on how to get big and they’d always mention literally scheduling out posts like that’s insane) but FR!! I lowk still get kinda confused by the notes system here but sometimes I feel like the short blurb fics get more notes traction because they are geared more towards the crowds that would consume that content (likewattpadreaderserm) so it’s maybe like also the demographic that causes it?? But honestly that’s also sm healthier of a mindset to keep it an actually enjoyable hobby and plus I’m here to say your work is actually fire I’m really picky with the stuff I read especially with like flow and grammar and eloquence (despite my yapping sessions being so disorganized SHDGSHS) so yeah saving your energy for things you actually enjoy is a much better route LOL

FRRRR im crying wait that’s true we do just get the extra emo from rin SHDHS imagine seeing him from Shidous pov LMAO

Careless whisper taken for granted because of the memes LOLLL

- Karasu anon

HAHA for my recoloring ngl i just import the panel, extract the line art, and then use the filter tool to change the color w the hex code i want that matches the divide i’ve made HAHA there’s def some stuff with overlays i could mess around with to see if i could get gradients to work though hmm much to consider

LMAOOO y/n beefing with karasu to hide that she’s actually madly attracted to him instead of her ACTUAL boyfriend otoya i bet she was secretly praying for him to be puss in boots because he’d look hot asf in that fit SKJHFSKJDH anyways yeah i guess the models are making their bag so they can’t be too mad about it?? but it’s funny to imagine someone posing for those pics (yukimiya core asf)

YAYYYY SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED YOURSELF HEHE and yesss omg it was so nice none of my professors assigned any homework that weekend so i had nothing to stress about no tests to study for literally just hanging out with my friends and partying and developing the lore HAHA omg pls i feel like i’m just a canon event magnet or smth but luckily i’m entering my winter hibernation era when i become irrelevant because i refuse to interact with people i’m not friends with already so we are free from canon events until the spring (i hope)

yeahhh things were rough for barou in the early days but tbh as soon as second selection came and he joined isagi’s team his glow up happened and it’s only been up from there…he looks INSANELY good in the nel and u20 game like the panels are SO HYPE AHHH i love him so much tbh i hope we can get back to him and isagi being the main rivals of the series GET RIN OUTTA HERE barousagi rivalry >>>> rinsagi rivalry sorry not sorry barou and isagi actually feel like healthy and real rivals that push each other to be better rin and isagi is just like “my brother thinks you don’t suck so i want to kill you and then myself” “ok” LMAOOOO anyways nagi’s design has definitely stabilized a lot!! agreed his little strand is so cute it makes his hair look even fluffier and softer somehow (also manshine nagi…sigh…so gorgeous)

SKDJFHS actually wait technically we do get wingman chigiri in the oaeu with nagi because aiku is actually nagi’s OPP in that one HAHAHA so wingman chigiri is already canon kinda like how wingman hiori is technically canon in fwtkac?? if you can consider whatever tf he was doing “wingmanning” (aiku and niko would be disappointed but whatever works ig)

HAHAH SO HONORED TO HAVE BROKEN YOU OUT OF YOUR LURKER STAGE EVEN SOMEWHAT in return you finally allowed me to write for karasu because before fwtkac i just knew i wanted to write him but i had no idea how so it was actually perfect truly a meeting of the minds…karasu anon x mira chemical reaction can never be beaten fr

pls that’s fr my philosophy too and that’s why i have a bazillion works in progress honestly i don’t mind so much for myself personally but sometimes i feel bad for the people that read my stuff and then are like wtf why hasn’t this updated in months BROOO IDK I JUST DON’T FEEL LIKE IT but then sometimes i get back on the grind randomly?? like pomegranate ink was on hiatus for almost a year and then randomly one day i just started writing for it again and then in a month i wrote over 100k words and finished the entire thing 😭 it’s especially bad with blue lock though because like not to be #hater but there are just not very many fics out there (i don’t read fics very often but every now and again i’ll take a peek through the tags) let alone really long or involved ones LET ALONE ones for characters i actually LIKE (forget about karasu and yukimiya for a second…why is there nothing for BAROU??? NAGI????? like these are some of the most popular characters why does kaiser have more fics than them) so i really do end up doing it myself

PLS behind the scenes of pursuit fr SKFSKJD here’s another behind the scenes fact the original version (aka the otoya version) was called “inheritance” and instead of sibling bonds it was meant to be more about nature vs nurture (otoya the exile ending up to be a kind person compared to his crueler clan, karasu and yayoi being opposites, barou and reader being opposites, etc etc) so the themes definitely changed a lot there 😭 hmm what else was there from the original version that i can think of…uhhh tullia and karasu like i mentioned LMAOOO lowkey i can kinda see them together but her and reo are better so not mad about that plus with reader not getting with otoya it doesn’t make as much sense for tullia to end up w karasu yk HAHA but agreed i think nagi is a much better route to take (NOT biased) he fits reader’s personality more and the arcs have a different feel to them with him as the love interest…nagi just truly is that guy he showed up in the story as a side character, said “nuh uh”, and then shoved his way into being the main lead which somehow actually improved the work?? insane

FIVE MONTHS IS SOOO CRAZY like almost half a year of us talking is wild to me!! but i wouldn’t have it any other way hehe…yeah i think it has to do with tags and post time and other stuff LMAO i don’t even care enough to look into it SDKFH i think part of it too is that those short blurb mega posts tag like fifty characters so they come up in a LOT of searches meanwhile i literally only tag my posts for my own organization so i don’t use too many tags or anything like that!! but agreed also the blurb mega posts definitely cater towards a certain crowd omg somewhat related but i saw a post that said smaus are killing fics the way velocity edits killed editing and idk why but it made me laugh SO hard 😭 don’t get me wrong i love a good smau but i fear the post was a bit too accurate

THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYINGGG like we never get to see sae just chilling w the bros (not that he really has any) i bet he’s probably a decent enough guy when he’s not being shown through rin’s #emo #brocken perspective SKHFJS omg sae through shidou’s perspective would truly be something though ngl i bet careless whisper would be playing somehow

[aurora-van-van-vana]

SO. (sorry for how long this is. I also don’t think I answered the question.)

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I’ve seen plenty of people discussing the space race (within the RusAme side of the fandom, sorry I’ve taken field trips there.) and Alfred & Ivan as a duo have both been seen drawn in a lot of fan arts of them in space or with space suits or like with stars and all that jazz. BUT. with this comes along the very serious RusAme shippers. And they began THINKING. mostly, since this is a very new thing as far as I know, it’s mainly been seen and discussed in text form, not a lot of art yet. (I am obviously working to change that lmao.)

Anyway, back to the point. The people were thinking. They thought, since the fact that they are beings tethered to the earth and the soil that they happen to be, the side effect of going to space would be HORRID.**like since he is leaving the earth it’s like he is leaving his life or like actually imagine this. A string. And like all of the hetalia characters have strings attached their bodies. Tethered to the earth. And then they leave the earth and whatever power that gives them the ability to live is physically fighting and punishing them for leaving. Which, imagine if you were the Earth and then your creature thing left. Like. How?? How did my blorbo leave. Anyway space blah blah blah stars blah Alfred obsession blah blah

I’ve read an interesting telling of the results of Alfred being in Space, (and Ivan too can’t forget about him.) and him coming down. Him getting home. The fact that as soon as he is healthy and home and back on earth, the KNOWLEDGE OF HIM NEVER BEING ABLE TO GO BACK. LIKE. PHYSICALLY BEING UNABLE to go to the place that he dreamed of, no matter how cringe one could argue that my whole spiel was just now (excuse: it’s very late I’m probably gonna draw a bit and maybe go sleep, maybe hang out on tumblr for a bit!) but I just ADORE that new trope. I think I’m using that term wrong. Not to like torture the blorbo. but. like torture the blorbo.

**also. How the Alfred reaction was written is….beyond words. Like. The PANIC. like the HERO the DUDE the WORLD SAVER not knowing how to handle this sorta thing is just. Mwah. Chefs kiss. My poor blorbo I’ll help him later. Also I know this is crazy there’s two certain Hetalia artists who have definitely been infecting me and I’ll handle that later. And I will NOT share this thing I read for reasons. By the way, thank you for asking I appreciate that so very much fr. Sorry for answering so so late.

♥️

If anyone needs me, I will be brainrotting about Alfred F Jones. Feel free to join me by reblogging this post and telling me what you're brainrotting about lately. Is an AU? A headcanon? A meta-analysis? Are you rotating him in your head like a rotisserie chicken? Let's talk about the blorbo.

[ch3irv3]

Yes, finally… bunny boys

[latinokaeya-moving]

been thinking abt this for a while since i first heard it was even a complaint n ngl the chinese fanbase is right why Hasn’t hoyoverse capitalised on the revived interest in recent years (both domestically AND internationally) in hanfu style clothing??? two years and over a dozen liyue characters released but still nobody w even Some hints of that in their design?? like who Wouldnt eat it up on a character what the hell. hanfu style clothing is like universally gorgeous

[clambuoyance]

IKNOW u haven’t been completely focused on hs recently but the way u draw rose and kanaya is just so perfectly how i invision them in my head ur amazing …fr ur way of stylizing characters is so>>>

Ah ty! That means a lot anon🥺💕It has been TOO LONG since I’ve drawn them ☹️☹️

[multifandomfanfic]

James Bond

Paring: Cliff Booth x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, subtle praise kink, oral (m receiving), older guy young girl trope

Summary: Whose idea was it to hire a stunt double as a lead? It was an utterly awful, unfathomable idea. That was, until you got to know this mysterious lead… then, things become so much more.

Word Count: 6.1k

As a child in Los Angeles, all I ever wanted to be was a movie star. There was something endearing about watching people move on television and knowing that every step, twirl, kiss, and line was meticulously planned.

They made it look so natural, as if they came up with it on the fly.

I wished I could be like them. I wanted to accomplish what they could with minimal effort. I desired to be interviewed by a handsome man who would inquire as to how I was able to do what I do. I remember lying on my aunt's hardwood floor as she's the only one in the family with a television. My stomach pressed against the ground, twirling my hair in my fingers as my gaze wandered over the familiar faces dancing across the screen.

Movies are an untapped market that will undoubtedly boom in the coming decades. I wanted to be a part of the revolution. I aspired to be a forerunner. I wanted to be remembered as an influential woman who had a significant impact on cinema for decades after my death.

Now I found myself in the 1970s. An era that will be remembered for its fashion, dances, and phenomenal impact on cinema. Bond movies were at an all-time high, and the stereotype of womanizers was in full swing.

“Cliff Booth?!”

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Cliff Booth?! I tightened my grip on the poor piece of paper, causing it to crinkle under my grip.

“But… he’s a stunt double?!”

“Well ever since he beat up those hippies that broke into Rick Dalton’s house his name has gained quite a bit of traction in Hollywood.”

The director spoke with a country accent that was thicker than tar. He was well-versed in the land of westerns, and I had no doubt that this casting was at least partially his idea.

I scoffed. He was joking, right?

“Oh come on David… he’s a sorry sack of shit and we both know it…”

David took a long drag on his cigarette before tossing it to the floor and crushing it under his boot, twisting the embers into the dry ground.

“Y/N, you know the whole womanizer idea is hot shit right now…”

“There’s thousands of studs in Hollywood, David… Thousands of studs who are also good actors.”

I crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it to the ground below me. Our attention was drawn to the paper ball, which we followed with our eyes until it stood motionless on the dusty ground.

“He better keep his shit together…”

I tried to come across as intimidating by speaking through my teeth and straightening my back. Unfortunately, my efforts were not fruitful, and David saw right through me.

The bright California sun glinted off his blue irises as he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest in over exaggerated annoyance.

“Y/N… he’s a professional-”

“They say he killed his own wife!”

“I do not give two shits about what my actors do off set!… Frankly, as long as they’re able to give one hundred fifty percent in front of the camera they’re considered gold in my book.”

I rolled my eyes, chewing on my bottom lip in an attempt to keep from losing my cool.

This was a completely ridiculous idea. Casting a stunt double as an attractive, romantic, womanizer lead was a ludicrous notion.

I swallowed my rage and crossed my arms over my chest, digging my dull nails into my biceps until my brain forced me to stop due to the assault on my nerves. The pain was harsh, but it successfully distracted my mind from the problem at hand for mere moments.

“Look Y/N… you’re young-”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“I never said you were… But I’ve been in this business for longer than you’ve been alive and I assure you I know what I am doing.”

I despised how every man over 30 addressed me as if I were a complete moron who didn't know their right from their left. I wasn't an idiot. I've been in the industry for a few years now, and I make it a point to learn everything I can before diving into something new.

I know exactly what I'm doing.

I simply bit back my rage. I couldn't let a single bad decision ruin my chances of making it big.

“Couldn’t you have at least gotten Rick Dalton?... I mean, he’s ancient and practically insignificant nowadays but at least he can act.”

David grimaced. In his youth, he was a big fan of Bounty Law, and hearing me, an inexperienced idiot, bash his favorite actor damaged a very important part of himself.

“Rick Dalton is a cowboy… Not a womanizer… Plus, I’m sure he’s busy.”

“What does Cliff Booth have that the thousands of super talented Hollywood hunks don’t?”

David tilted his head slightly forward.

“He’s an untapped market… people know him as Rick Dalton’s stunt double but if he’s also good as an actor…”

David smirked and nodded devilishly, raising a finger.

“Well… then that’s a conversation piece.”

He dropped his arm, returning it to its original position across his chest.

“Besides… he’s got a look that could make all of us filthy rich.”

I pursed my lips.

“Sure… whatever.”

“Just do the goddamn movie with him. I don't give a shit if you two never speak to each other after we wrap this up but at least act like you’re interested.”

“Well… that is my job.”

David chuckled, a crooked smile forming on his face.

“Cliff will be here soon… Be on your best behavior.”

I rolled my eyes nonchalantly.

“Whatever… I’ll be in my trailer if you need me.”

I said my goodbyes and made my way across the small trailer lot to my new home. Because the cast of this film was small, only a few trailers were required to accompany the small number of cast members.

As usual, the California weather was pleasant. The sun was warm but not oppressive. The gentle breezes that blew through the city were the perfect breath of fresh air in the midst of a hectic day.

The weather here was always perfect.

The sun glistened off the side of my metal trailer, reflecting directly into my eyes and forcing me to cover my face with the back of my hand to protect my retinas from the rays.

As I flung open the door to my trailer, a particularly cool breath of fresh air tousled my hair. I sighed heavily, my chest collapsing.

Let’s hope he doesn’t screw this up.

I mean, who’s idea was it to cast a stunt double as the lead role?

David.

In a temporary fit of rage, I slammed the door shut. A loud bang erupted, shaking the entire trailer.

“I swear if he messes this up for me…”

I clenched my teeth. This was going to be my big break. This movie was going to be a huge hit! A spicy romance film about a womanizer man and a younger girl would undoubtedly make waves in Hollywood, especially with the Bond universe reaching an all time high.

I'd be right in the thick of it. People will be talking about this movie for decades to come. How it was technically incorrect, how it was messed up in so many ways, but they'd go home and watch it anyway. Because it would be impossible to deny that they're tempted.

David made a wise choice in giving me a chance. But a stunt double? He's only good for jumping off horses and trying not to get hurt!

I take a deep breath and close my eyes to enjoy the sensation of sweet oxygen filling my lungs. David is not a moron. Cliff will be fine, I'm sure. I couldn't let a minor inconvenience derail my promising career.

“Ugh.”

I groaned, collapsing onto my stiff couch, which provided little comfort in my time of need. The hinges groaned as they suffocated under my weight.

I pressed my cheek against the scratchy fabric, my cheekbone digging into the surface as my face compressed to meld against the couch.

I should rehearse my lines. I should go for a walk. I should do something productive.

I couldn't make myself move from where I was, my front pressed against the rock solid couch. The trailer was poorly insulated, and the interior was musty and sticky. I could see dust particles floating through the air, with not a care in the world.

“Hey Dave, how’s it going?”

Outside my trailer, I heard a man's voice I didn't recognize.

Was he already here?! How long have I been relaxing?

I sat up, clambering to the tiny window on the side of the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of my costar.

I leaned in, my hands on either side of the circular window, my face almost touching the glass. I stared at him as if I'd never seen a man before.

He stood tall on the dusty ground, clad in dark blue jeans and a bright yellow button-up shirt. His eyes were obscured by dark sunglasses that reflected David's image onto them.

As much as I despised admitting it, he had a look, an iconic look. He carried himself as if he were the only man who mattered. Even if you weren't a fan of the macho older man look, his confidence was undeniably impressive.

David tipped his cowboy hat to him, giving him a proper welcome full of good old-fashioned southern hospitality.

Cliff's voice was much deeper and stronger than David's. His tone cut through the air like a knife, and I could clearly hear what he was saying. I couldn't make out David’s words. He sounded like he was mumbling under his breath.

To be fair, they were quite a distance away from me.

They conversed as if they were old friends reuniting after a long absence. Their postures were relaxed, with their hands lazily placed on their hips and their pelvises cocked to the side.

“I’m excited to do this movie David…”

“Thank you for the opportunity…”

“I love your work…”

He was kissing up, and rightly so. When I first met David, I did the same thing. I knew I needed to win over the director, or else I'd be in for a bumpy ride.

“Sure! I’d be willing to start filming later today!”

Huh?! What did he say?!

Oh God, I needed to prepare myself.

Cliff gave David a nod, before turning on his heels and making his way towards my trailer.

Oh wait… why is he coming over?

His hair fluttered in the gentle breeze as he strutted confidently towards me. I crouched quickly to avoid his gaze.

Don’t panic.

Don’t panic.

Don’t panic.

I crawled across the floor, scrambling for stray pieces of my script that were strewn about. The papers kept slipping from my grasp, fluttering to the floor just beyond my reach.

“Fuck!”

I exclaimed, hurriedly gathering the papers in my grasp and clutching them to my chest, crinkling them in the process.

I could hear him, his loud footfalls echoing just outside my trailer.

I lunged to the couch, settling into a comfortable sitting position with the few papers I could gather in the limited time I was given. I went through them. They were all scrambled, chunks from various scenes at scattered points throughout the film.

He knocked, sending a brief shock through the trailer. I gulped.

“Come in.”

I said with all the assurance I could muster. Hopefully, he won't think too much about the nerves that were covered by my phony confidence.

He swung the door open using its flimsy hinges. I glanced at him through my lashes, pretending to be surprised but not overjoyed.

He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Oh… hello…”

I gave him a quick smile before returning my attention to the script in my hands.

“Boss told me to tell you that we’ll be filming later today… if that’s alright…”

I pursed my lips and nodded, not looking him in the eyes.

“That’s fine… What time is he thinking?”

“In like… two hours maybe.”

“Okay… Thanks for telling me.”

I pretended to be reading the script in front of me. It was the scene in which the two characters were in a club, hitting it off.

It was unmistakably a slow burn.

I was expecting him to leave. He'd told me everything there was to say. What else could he possibly want?

He pushed himself off the door frame and took a long step forward, getting halfway between me and the door.

“You look like you take yourself too seriously… Am I right?”

Excuse me?! I scoffed, not looking him in the eyes in fear my nerves would consume me.

I'm not sure why I was so worried. Nerves didn't look good on me.

“You really just say whatever’s on your mind, don’t you?”

He chuckled.

“Sometimes…”

His presence was oppressive. As I read the page in front of me for the tenth time, I could feel his eyes boring into my skull.

Okay, this is ridiculous.

I raised my head to meet his stare.

I could feel his gaze on me despite his sunglasses. My heart started racing. Even when he didn't want to be, he was super intimidating. He exuded dominance, which would undoubtedly come in handy during filming.

“Are you gonna leave now?”

I inquired as politely as I could. Unfortunately, I came across as bratty rather than kind. Cliff chuckled through a closed mouth.

“I think I’d rather stay here and stare at you a little longer.”

Now he was just messing with me.

“Fine… I don’t really care.”

I did care. I very much did care.

I couldn't think because he was standing over me. I was struggling to breathe. He had a hold on me just by being in the same room with me.

“Why are you even here? You’re a stunt double.”

I asked nonchalantly, my gaze fixed on the words on my script. I'm not sure why I said that. I only needed to talk to get my mind off the crushing weight of his presence.

“Boss said I have a good look…”

I could tell he was smirking. His tone was far too arrogant.

“I’m sure that stroked your ego.”

I flipped the page, focusing my attention on the script's words. It was the first scene.

It might be beneficial to take a close look at this.

“You’ve got fire in you… I like it.”

Oh, please. I could see where this was going. Did he think I wouldn't notice how his voice changed to add a sensual undertone to the conversation?

“Thank you… now please leave before I vomit all over your fifty cent boots.”

I wanted him out of my trailer so I could breathe normally again. He was staring at me like a hawk, and it was getting annoying and uncomfortable.

Cliff scoffed.

“Alright… I’ll leave you alone honey.”

My heart skipped a beat when I heard the pet name.

He turned and walked towards the door, his steps rattling the trailer slightly everytime his foot came into contact with the ground.

I let out a heavy sigh as he closed the door behind him, my chest collapsing with relief.

I lowered myself to the ground and began rummaging through the papers to compile the first scene. I was successful in organizing the papers into their respective scenes.

I read the first scene several times, making sure I knew every line from beginning to end. I even spoke aloud, rehearsing what I would say and how I would approach the dialogue in the most natural way.

I'd done enough research on David to know that he prefers to be free most of the time, which is why his films are so iconic. He believes in his actors and allows them to do almost anything they want while saying their lines as long as it appears natural.

So, it was my responsibility to put together a rough idea of my staging.

I couldn't help but look over to the bar scene to see what I was in for. I read it once, twice, and three times. I couldn't stop myself from skimming over the words.

I was in for a wild ride. This scene was completely wild.

A loud slam on my door startled me out of my daze.

“We’re filming now! Get on set!”

“I’ll be right out!”

I assumed we'd start the day with the first scene because I hadn't received any information to the contrary.

I took a few moments to myself. Before exhaling, I took a deep breath and stretched my arms above my head.

“Okay… let’s do this.”

As I approached the set, I noticed that the props and locations appeared to correspond with the first scene.

Thank God.

“Alright… First scene… get ready you guys.”

David addressed us from behind the camera, which was pointed directly at the set. I lowered my gaze, smoothing the wrinkles in my costume. Fortunately, I had not completely ruined the dress with sweat.

Cliff was dressed in the same outfit as before.

Was that his costume?

I suppose it did fit the character.

In a sense, the character reflected his own personality.

“Alright you guys… you know I’m a fan of improv so just do whatever the hell you feel like… just keep the lines the same… don’t leave anything out.”

David was a big fan of small groups as well. He didn't hire anyone unless he absolutely needed to. As a result, he was the sole operator of the camera.

He was truly iconic. This method of execution should not work... but David manages to make everything work despite the odds.

Cliff was prepared, standing in place, waiting for his chance to shine.

“Places…”

“Oh… right!”

I exclaimed, completely absorbed in my own thoughts. I walked onto the set, taking a random position and re-enacting the blocking I'd imagined in my head.

Only now would I have to work off of Cliff, making the job even more difficult.

I’ll be alright.

I can do this.

The first scene went very smoothly, we only needed one take to get it perfect.

“You guys are on fire! Alright, how about the club scene?!”

The club scene?

However, we were in the middle of the desert, where our characters were supposed to meet for the first time. It was extremely unlikely, but I had faith in David. When it comes to romance films, the more absurd, the better. People are drawn to a plot that they have never heard of before.

Besides, the entire point of this film was to be unlikely, almost impossible. A film in which critics will make ridiculous assumptions about hidden metaphors decades later.

“How are we gonna do the club scene when we’re in the middle of the desert, boss?”

Cliff was thinking the same thing as me.

David bit his bottom lip and gazed at the ground, thinking. He was a bit short-sighted for a theatrical genius at times.

“Well… let’s just do the post club scene shall we?... Cliff’s character is supposed to be broke despite how he presents himself… So using one of the trailers will suffice.”

Oh God… the post club scene meaning the scene where it is heavily hinted at that we-

“Sure… I’m good with that.”

Of course Cliff didn’t mind… he got to kiss a girl old enough to be his daughter.

“Y/N?”

David turned his eyes to me, as if he needed confirmation that everything was fine on my end.

I flushed bright red.

“Oh… yeah, sure… that’s fine… but, um… I didn’t really get a chance to look over my lines for that scene… and I-I think I need a different costume.”

David nodded.

“You’re right… let’s wait for an hour or so, so the sun can fully set… and so you guys can prepare.”

“Sure! Sounds great!”

I agreed a little too enthusiastically before hastening my way to my trailer. I had no doubt they'd be very suspicious of my rushed manor.

The trust was, I had gone over that scene twenty times before. I knew all of the lines backwards and forwards. I had spent time thinking about how much I would despise having to kiss him and pretend to be deeply in love with him.

That’s why I was blushing… because I was nervous… and I hated him.

I changed my outfit and did my own makeup.

Makeup and costume people were another thing David considered pointless. He was always saying how he preferred the actors to choose their own costumes based on what they thought was best, and to do their own makeup. He wanted his characters to be real people, people who were probably not great at clothing design or elaborate makeup techniques.

Fortunately, he offered to pay me more since I was basically doing all the work myself.

I must have done my makeup ten times to avoid having to think about the impending doom that was coming much sooner than expected. In the little mirror hanging on the wall of my trailer, I put it on, then took it off, then put it on again, then fixed every single minor error before taking it completely off.

As the sun began to set, I could see the light fading from my trailer and feel the sudden unease that struck me every time my mind wandered.

I swiped the eyeliner against my skin.

“Fuck.”

I muttered under my breath as I erased it all away with a wipe.

I should probably put it on for good, as filming time is quickly approaching.

I was about to apply my final stroke of eyeshadow when I heard a knock on the door and a voice telling me to come outside. I finished quickly, taking a deep breath, hoping for calm rather than preparation.

When I stepped outside, I felt naked and exposed in front of two fully grown men. Unfortunately, the short red dress I chose left little room for the imagination.

“Alright… I think we’d better use Cliff’s trailer since I’m sure it’s a mess.”

Dave and Cliff both laughed at David's terrible joke. I remained silent, only offering a small smile to indicate that I was listening.

I wasn't paying attention. I was thinking about how much this was going to suck, at least for me anyway.

I thought of how much it would suck to have Cliff feeling me up and pretending I enjoyed it.

Because I’d definitely hate it.

I’d hate how his rough hands would feel against my soft skin.

Ew. I don’t like that I had that thought.

The scene was… a big mess of emotions. I wasn’t sure what exactly I should feel at any given moment. My entire mine was plagued with scattered thoughts that would lead to unintentional and completely ludicrous places.

By the time it was completely over, my face was flushed bright red and my heart was beating out of my chest.

I slammed my trailer door shut, heaving breaths of anxiety.

Oh God… that was too much.

The way he was touching me… I wanted to hate it so bad. I hated myself for allowing myself to enjoy it.

The worst part of it was… we needed more than one take.

Which meant I had to feel him touching me in every place the sun touched. I had to feel his lips against mine and try to pretend I was seconds away from moaning into his mouth while David stood behind a camera and recorded us.

God I wish we could just do those things in private.

No, no I don’t. What am I talking about?! I definitely don’t want that.

He was in my trailer, standing in the frame while I was busy agonizing over my thoughts. I didn’t notice him at first.

“Oh! Um… I’m sorry I didn’t see you there…”

I swallowed my anxiety, my gaze fixed on the ground below me as my insides shook violently, plaguing me with heavy waves of unease.

He knew what I was thinking.

He knew exactly what I was thinking.

How could he not?

“I’m just gonna cut to the chase because I think you know what all of this is about.”

I did.

I knew exactly what all of this was about.

I knew exactly where this was going.

And I couldn’t help but grow wet at the mere thought of where this night would undoubtedly lead.

“You were gettin’ antsy in that last scene.”

He placed a curled finger under my chin, forcing my head upwards to meet his gaze.

“Waddya have to say about that?”

I gulped.

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do know…”

“I…”

I sounded pitiful. Cliff was obviously a man who knew exactly what he wanted, so I expected him to become frustrated and antsy. Instead, he seemed amused, finding my discomfort humorous.

He scoffed.

“Alright honey…”

My lower abdomen fluttered at the pet name.

“Since you don’t wanna talk I guess I’ll have to work it outta ya.”

His voice dropped to just barely above a sensual whisper, his newfound tone making my stomach flip upside down.

He smashed my lips into mine without hesitation, pushing me backwards with extreme force until my knees smacked against the couch, knocking me into a sitting position until I was eye level with his large belt buckle.

His hand caressed my jaw, tilting it upwards to meet his crushing gaze.

Cliff’s calloused fingertips grazed sensually against my lips, raising goosebumps along my spine. He took his time, ensuring I was aching by the time he was done getting under my skin.

“God you’re beautiful…”

He mumbled almost incoherently.

“You wanna suck my cock babygirl?… you want me to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours?”

I swallowed, my throat becoming constricted with fear.

I clenched my thighs together in an attempt to relieve the ache in my core.

“Speak up honey… otherwise I’ll leave while you’re aching.”

I took a shaky breath, reaching up with trembling hands to undo his belt.

Cliff dropped his hand to the side, releasing his tender grip on my jaw.

The metal buckle continued to slip from my shaky hands. My nerves transformed the simple task into a nearly impossible process.

“Don’t be nervous…”

My cheeks flushed red as I tried to keep my eyes on the rusty golden buckle so I didn’t become intimidated.

“Hey. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

He demanded, his voice becoming firm yet keeping the mumbling tone.

I gathered my courage, trialing my eyes upwards to glance at him through my lashes.

“Don’t be nervous… after I fill you pretty mouth with my thick cock I’ll make you cum so hard your whole body will be begging me for more.”

I clenched my jaw, tearing my eyes away from him to fully undo his belt and slip it through the loops with a loud whoosh.

I felt his large cock growing hard through his jeans as my hands gently grazed over his clothed erection. My mouth watered as I unbuttoned his pants and dragged the denim down his muscular thick thighs.

I palmed him through the thin fabric of his boxers, eliciting a low moan from the back of Cliff’s throat as he threw his head backwards and exposed his adams apple.

His hands found their place on my scalp, tangling his fingers into my locks.

“Put my fucking cock in your mouth before I make you regret it…”

His grip tightened in my hair, pulling the strands from my scalp. I couldn’t help but groan at the pain, pushing the noises down into the pit of my stomach.

“No teasing.”

He demanded, his voice now breathy and thick with anticipation.

“Okay…”

I murmured timidly, swallowing my nerves as I hooked a finger in the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down his legs until they pooled around his ankles.

I was eye level with his cock, which was incredibly thick and unmistakingly the most beautiful dick I’d ever seen in my entire life.

Which wasn’t saying much, as I wasn’t the most experienced person on set.

The aching in my cunt grew when I was able to fully take in his glorious cock, and began thinking of how it would feel inside of me, fantastically stretching my walls.

My face was burning hot with desire as I tenderly grasped his length, giving it a few gentle pumps.

Cliff sighed deeply, loosening his grip on my hair once he realized I would gladly take control.

“You’re beautiful Cliff…”

I wasn’t sure what I should say now that I was so close to having his cock inside of me, but I figured he’d appreciate a gentle compliment.

Cliff scoffed.

“Thank you honey… you’re not too bad yourself.”

His line was painfully cliche, but I didn’t mind. This situation was making me far too aroused to care about a cliche.

I took his cock into my mouth, immediately thrusting it towards the back of my throat with eagerness.

Cliff groaned and moaned as I bobbed my head along his length, the pleasure filled sounds adding to the pooling wetness in my damp panties.

His grip tightened, not in frustration, but in the sheer pleasure of my warm mouth bobbing along his veiny cock.

“Fuck… you’re such a good girl.”

He gasped in between strangled moans.

I was already a mess and he had hardly touched me. My heart was pounding. My face was flushed bright red. My panties were soaking wet and my cunt was aching to the point of pain.

I was antsy, antsy to feel him throbbing inside of me.

Cliff threw his head downwards, his eyes boring into my skull as his strong grip assisted me in bobbing my head along him.

His tip was hitting the back of my throat. I almost gagged as he began to buck his hips into my mouth.

Tears of pleasure were forming at the corners of my eyes, and a few escaped my eyelids and began to roll down my cheeks.

I glanced up at him through my thick lashes, his crushing stare making my heart flutter with anticipation.

His lips were wet with saliva, his teeth clenched, the muscles on his jaw protruding from the sides of his cheeks.

It filled me with pride to know I had such a profound effect on him. I wrapped my hands around his muscular thighs to steady myself as I began to take his cock with my urgency.

“Oh my… fuck… you’re such a slut for me.”

Cliff's hips were thrusting aggressively into my mouth, the tip of my nose brushing against his happy trail.

“You’re gonna make me cum so hard honey… I can’t wait to feel your sweet little pussy around my throbbing cock.”

His length began to twitch in my mouth, the salty taste of precum lingering on my tongue.

With a few more thrusts, Cliff was falling over the edge into the realm of pleasure. His chest collapsed as he unloaded his cum into the back of my throat, his grip on my hair suddenly loosening as he reached his high.

I bobbed my head twice more along his dick to help him ride out his orgasm before removing my mouth with a pop.

Cliff was breathing heavily, his chest heaving with gasps as he came down to earth after an intense orgasm.

He dropped his hand to his side, relaxing his body as we both mentally prepared ourselves for what was yet to come.

“You ready for me honey?”

He asked, a big stupid smile plastered on his smug face.

I gulped, resting my hands in my lap as I nodded my head meekly.

Cliff brought his hands to the front of his shirt, glancing down at the buttons as he began to undo them.

With every button, he exposed his chiseled body, glistening with sweat.

Cliff dropped the fabric to the floor with a soft thud, now fully naked and exposed in front of my inexperienced eyes. Being fully clothed in front of him added an additional layer of anticipation to the situation.

“Stand… let me undress you.”

He commanded, and I followed his orders, standing on my shaky knees.

Cliff glued his eyes to my chest, grazing his fingertips sensually over my collarbone, raising goosebumps on my skin.

He moved his hand to my shoulder, pushing my spaghetti strap down until it hung limply. He did the same with the other side until my dress was hanging loosely on my body.

I stared at the floor as Cliff grasped onto the deep neckline of my dress, pulling it down until I was dressed only in my underwear. The cool breeze hardened my nipples.

I gasped as Cliff connected his warm mouth with the sensitive skin on my neck, raising my hands to gently rest on top of his shoulders.

He kissed and nipped on my skin. He grasped my hips and tugged my forward until our bodies were pressed flush together. I could feel the warmth radiating off of his perfect body.

Cliff kicked off his shoes, pushing me backward as an indication that it was time for me to lay down.

I followed his instruction, finding a comfortable place on my stiff couch as he settled in between my legs, hovering over me, his lips moving expertly against my neck.

I tangled my hands in his hair, squeezing my eyes shut and dropped my jaw as his lips hit every single sweet spot on my neck and collarbone.

“Cliff… please… I need you.”

Cliff smirked against my skin.

“Beg for it… I wanna hear you beg for my cock.”

He murmured against the crook of my neck, his body pressed firmly into mine, his cock so close to my aching cunt.

“Please Cliff… I need you to fuck me.”

“Keep going…”

I gasped as he bit a patch of sensitive skin on my collarbone.

“Please Cliff… my pussy is aching so bad for you… I need you to fill me up… I need your cock throbbing inside of me.”

I begged hard, not caring about how utterly pitiful I sounded.

“Alright honey… I’ll give you what you want.”

He lined himself up with my entrance, pushing himself inside of me and stretching my walls to the max.

I moaned loudly, grasping onto his hair for leverage.

He began pounding into me, hardly giving me any time to adjust to his thick girth.

He snapped his hips forward, his pelvis smashing into mine as he thrusted mercilessly into my aching cunt.

“Fuck Y/N… you feel so fucking good… you’re so wet.”

Cliff’s voice was just as fucked out as mine. Either he was truly breathless, or he knew how much his strained gasps drove me crazy.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, giving him a complete new angle to attack my cunt.

Tears of pleasure began to return to my eyes as his thick tip slammed against my g spot with every eager thrust.

Cliff removed his face from the crook of my neck to stare into my fucked out face. He was taking in every single feature and relishing in the fact that he was completely ruining me.

“Oh God you’re such a fucking slut for me… I love it…”

I furrowed my eyebrows as I became so incredibly close to the edge.

“Cliff… I’m gonna cum.”

I was crying tears of pleasure as his girth continued to slam into my g spot.

“Look at me honey… I wanna watch your face as you cum all over my cock.”

I held eye contact as his last few thrusts made me topple over the edge, unleashing my orgasm with a strained moan.

It hit me like a freight train, knocking the breath out of me as my lungs collapsed with glorious pleasure.

Cliff followed shortly after, our combined juices dripping onto the couch below as he gave a few more thrusts to help both of us ride out our orgasms.

We maintained eye contact until we both of our hearts had begun to beat normally once more.

I felt… good, fulfilled, happy. That was the greatest orgasm I had ever experienced in my entire life. I was on cloud nine.

Cliff pulled out of me, a strand of cum attaching my body to his.

He crawled downwards until he was in between my legs, burying his face in between my thighs as he lapped up our combined juices.

I sighed with post orgasm pleasure as I allowed Cliff’s expert mouth to clean me up.

He climbed off the couch when he was satisfied with his work, immediately beginning to redress.

I stared at the ceiling, a stupidly big smile on my face as I allowed myself to live throguh the previous events of this glorious night once more.

“I’ll see you tomorrow honey… maybe we can do this again?”

I tilted my head to the side, my cheek pressing against the scratchy fabric of the couch.

“Definitely…”

We both chuckled before Cliff bid me an adieu, making his way back to his trailer as quietly as possible to avoid suspicion.

Who knew Cliff Booth was a man sent by the gods? A Hollywood hunk, a James Bond, a womanizer.

He was everything perfect wrapped into one.

Except he wasn’t James Bond, he was Cliff Booth.