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kitchenkosmos · 1 year

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How To Sharpen a Kitchen Knife With a Stone by Doing?

Introduction

Keeping your kitchen knives sharp is essential for efficient and safe cooking. A dull knife not only slows down your food preparation but also increases the risk of accidents. Learning how to sharpen a kitchen knife with a stone is a valuable skill that every home cook should possess. In this article, we will guide you through the step-by-step process of sharpening your kitchen knife using a stone, ensuring that you achieve a razor-sharp edge with precision.

Understanding the Importance of Knife Sharpening

Before we delve into the sharpening process, let’s first understand why knife sharpening is crucial. Over time, the cutting edge of a knife becomes dull due to regular use. When the blade is no longer sharp, it requires more force to cut through ingredients, leading to imprecise cuts and potential accidents. Sharpening your kitchen knife not only restores its sharpness but also prolongs its lifespan, saving you money on frequent replacements.

Gathering the Necessary Tools and Materials

To sharpen your kitchen knife with a stone, you will need the following tools and materials:

Sharpening stone (preferably a whetstone)

Water

Towel or damp cloth

Knife lubricant (optional but recommended)

Ensure that you have these items ready before you begin the sharpening process.

Preparing the Sharpening Stone

Before you start sharpening your knife, you need to prepare the sharpening stone. Follow these steps:

Place the sharpening stone on a stable surface, preferably a non-slip mat or countertop.

Moisten the stone with water. This helps to prevent excessive friction and allows for smoother sharpening.

If you’re using a whetstone, let it soak in water for about 10-15 minutes before use.

Place a damp cloth or towel underneath the stone to prevent it from sliding during sharpening.

Holding the Knife Properly

A proper knife grip is essential for safe and effective sharpening. Hold the knife handle firmly with your dominant hand, ensuring a secure grip throughout the sharpening process. Place your thumb on the side of the blade, away from the cutting edge, for better control and stability.

Choosing the Right Angle

Selecting the correct sharpening angle is crucial for achieving optimal results. The angle will depend on the type of knife and your personal preference. As a general guideline:

For most kitchen knives, a 15 to 20-degree angle is suitable.

For Japanese knives or those with a thinner blade, a 10 to 15-degree angle is recommended.

Heavier blades, such as cleavers, may require a slightly higher angle.

Initiating the Sharpening Process

Now that you have a good grip and selected the appropriate angle, you can begin sharpening your kitchen knife. Follow these steps:

Position the knife on the sharpening stone at the chosen angle.

Start with the blade’s base, near the handle, and move towards the tip.

Apply moderate pressure while sliding the knife across the stone in a sweeping motion.

Maintain a consistent angle and focus on evenly sharpening the entire length of the blade.

Applying Proper Pressure

The pressure you exert while sharpening is crucial for achieving the desired sharpness. Too much pressure can damage the knife, while too little may not yield the desired results. Apply firm but controlled pressure as you slide the knife along the stone. Keep the pressure consistent throughout the sharpening process to ensure even sharpening of the blade.

Consistency and Repeating the Process

Sharpening a knife is a gradual process that requires patience. To achieve the best results, repeat the sharpening process several times on both sides of the blade. Alternate the sides after each stroke to maintain an even edge. Remember to maintain the chosen angle and consistent pressure throughout.

Testing the Sharpness

After sharpening, it’s essential to test the sharpness of your knife. Hold a piece of paper or tomato and attempt to make a clean, effortless cut. A sharp knife should glide through the material without any resistance. If the knife feels dull or doesn’t cut smoothly, repeat the sharpening process until you achieve the desired sharpness.

Honing and Stropping the Knife

In addition to sharpening, honing and stropping help refine the blade’s edge and remove any microscopic burrs. Honing can be done using a honing rod or steel, while stropping involves using a leather strop or a piece of denim. Gently run the blade along the honing rod or strop, maintaining the same angle as during sharpening. This process helps maintain the knife’s sharpness between sharpening sessions.

Maintenance and Storage Tips

To keep your kitchen knife sharp for longer periods, consider the following maintenance and storage tips:

Clean and dry your knife after each use to prevent corrosion.

Avoid cutting on hard surfaces like glass or stone, as it can dull the blade.

Store your knife in a knife block, sheath, or magnetic strip to protect the edge.

Regularly hone your knife to maintain its sharpness between sharpening sessions.

Conclusion

Sharpening a kitchen knife with a stone is a valuable skill that enhances your culinary experience. By following the step-by-step process outlined in this article, you can ensure that your kitchen knife remains sharp, efficient, and safe to use. Remember to take your time, maintain the proper angle and pressure, and test the sharpness regularly. With practice, you’ll become proficient at sharpening your kitchen knives and enjoy the benefits of precise cutting.

FAQs

1. How often should I sharpen my kitchen knife?

The frequency of sharpening depends on how frequently you use your knife. As a general rule, regular home cooks should sharpen their knives every 3-6 months.

2. Can I use an electric sharpener instead of a stone?

While electric sharpeners offer convenience, they may remove more metal from the knife and result in a less precise edge. Using a sharpening stone allows for more control and precision.

3. Do I need to apply knife lubricant while sharpening?

Knife lubricant can help reduce friction and enhance the sharpening process. It’s recommended to use a few drops of lubricant on the stone, but it’s not mandatory.

4. Can I sharpen serrated knives with a stone?

Traditional sharpening stones are not suitable for sharpening serrated knives. Serrated knives require specialized sharpening tools designed for serrated edges.

5. What should I do if I accidentally cut myself while sharpening?

If you sustain a minor cut, clean the wound and apply pressure to stop the bleeding. For more severe cuts, seek medical attention immediately.

6. How do I choose the right type of sharpening stone for my kitchen knives?

There are different types of sharpening stones available, such as oil stones, water stones, and diamond stones. Consider factors like your skill level, the type of knives you own, and your preferred sharpening method when selecting a stone.

7. Can I use honing steel instead of a sharpening stone to maintain my knife’s edge?

Honing steels are useful for realigning and maintaining the edge of a knife, but they don’t actually sharpen the blade. They are a great addition to regular sharpening and help keep the knife’s edge in top condition.

8. How long does it take to sharpen a kitchen knife with a stone?

The time it takes to sharpen a knife depends on several factors, including the knife’s condition, your skill level, and the type of stone used. On average, it may take 10-15 minutes to sharpen a moderately dull knife.

9. Can I use a sharpening stone on ceramic knives?

It’s generally not recommended to sharpen ceramic knives with a stone. Ceramic knives require specialized sharpening methods, as they are more prone to chipping and require diamond sharpening tools.

10. Is it possible to over-sharpen a knife?

Yes, it is possible to over-sharpen a knife by removing too much metal from the blade. It’s important to be mindful of the amount of material being removed during the sharpening process to avoid compromising the knife’s integrity.

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recipeslive · 2 years

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How To Sharpen A Chef's Knife.

Knife Sharpening Video Tutorial #knifesharpening

Video tutorial of how to sharpen a chef’s knife on a whetstone or wet stone. #chefsknife #knifesharpening #recipeslive Chef Brendan Mooney setting up the wet stone. Chef Brendan Mooney sharpening a chef’s knife. Global, quality chef’s knife. Professional Tips on How to Sharpen Your Chef’s Knife – Get the Perfect Edge. Having a sharp chef’s knife is essential for any home cook. A dull knife…

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#chef knife #chef sharpening knife #knife sharpening #wet stone #whetstone

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kazsknife · 2 years

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A Beginner's Guide to Understanding Chefs Knives

Japanese knife sets are quite well-known in Australia, and they can be found at reputable retailers and are used in a variety of settings, including the kitchen and the home. Chefs knife is also known popularly by the Japanese name of Gyuto and this type of knife is immensely popular throughout the world. The finest blades are those made in Japan because they are the sharpest and can be selected based on the type of steel that was used to make them.

Additionally, the top retailers provide knife sharpening stone, so if the blade has worn down, one can have it redone. Some blades are made specifically for cutting fish before cooking or preparing it as a dish, while others are made for chopping veggies and other domestic tasks. Each type of Japanese knife has a distinctive visual appearance as well as distinct traits.

A Review of the Different Knives Offered by the Top Brands

Gyuto: Also known as a chef's knife, it is sometimes referred to as a French knife. Even though cooks use it most often, it is truly an all-purpose knife that can be used for a variety of different tasks. The knife comes in various sizes where the increments in each larger size are 30mm and the maximum possible length is 300mm.

Santoku & Nakiri: Santoku is frequently used in the kitchen for chopping veggies and fish, but it can also be used for other domestic chores. On the other hand, the rectangular-shaped blade of the Nakiri is specifically designed for cutting veggies precisely.

Sashimi & Deba: Sashimi is a method of slicing seafood and this knife is used especially for this purpose. Deba, on the other hand, is considerably heavy and sturdier, and the blade does not chip readily.

Leading retailers offer their products both offline and online, and one can even find tools and sharpening stones. To choose the ideal knife for you, get in contact with the top retailers or peruse their catalogues online.

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#chefs knife #knife sharpening stone

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novaursa · 2 months

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The Silent Pyre

- Summary: It was a rainy night when Blood and Cheese came to deliver you your half-sister’s message; a son for a son.

- Paring: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N. Aegon and the reader have four children, the oldest son named Aeron, a daughter, Daena, and twin boys, Vaelon and Baelon. These events happen after Twin Fires and before The Fire That Binds Us. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot. Anonymous user inquired about these events, and I've decided to post it and share it with you all, it has been stashed away for too long in my file graveyard.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (no adult content, but there are graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore)

- Word count: 5 133

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The night is heavy with the scent of rain, the coolness of autumn seeping into the stones of the Red Keep. The fire in Helaena’s chamber casts long shadows across the walls, flickering as the wind howls faintly outside. You stand by the door, the weight of your crown pressing down upon you as you gaze at your younger sister. Her pale hair gleams like moonlight as she kneels by her children’s cradle, whispering a soft lullaby. Her voice is a quiet, fragile thing, a melody that seems almost too delicate for the world that surrounds you both.

“Helaena,” you murmur, stepping closer. She lifts her head, her violet eyes distant and unfocused, as though she is seeing something far beyond the chamber walls.

“Y/N,” she replies, a small, distracted smile gracing her lips. “Goodnight. May the Seven bless your dreams.”

“And yours, sister.” You reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sleep well.”

With one last glance at her serene face, you turn and leave the room, pulling the door shut softly behind you. The corridor outside is eerily silent, the usual clamor of the servants and guards muted, as if the Keep itself holds its breath.

As you walk through the darkened halls, a sense of unease begins to coil in your chest. The silence feels unnatural, like the calm before a storm. The rain patters against the windows, a steady rhythm that should be soothing, but instead heightens your anxiety. You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, the chill of the stone floors seeping through your slippers.

Your thoughts drift to Aegon, waiting for you in your shared bedchamber. You picture him sprawled across the large bed, his platinum blond hair tousled, perhaps with a goblet of wine in hand. There is comfort in the thought of him, of the warmth of his body against yours, but it does little to dispel the growing dread that gnaws at your insides.

As you approach the nursery, the unease sharpens into fear. You pause, your hand hovering over the door. The sound of something crashing softly from within reaches your ears—a faint, almost imperceptible noise, but enough to send your heart racing. The shadows behind the door shift, moving in ways that shadows should not.

You swallow, forcing down the rising panic. Your children are in there, your precious sons and daughter. Steeling yourself, you push the door open slowly, trying to remain as silent as possible.

The scene before you is one pulled from the darkest of nightmares. The warm, cozy nursery is cast in a pall of terror. Your eyes first find your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, bound and gagged on the floor, her eyes wide with a terror that you have never seen before. She struggles against her bindings, her muffled cries like the wail of a ghost in the suffocating silence.

But it is the two men in the center of the room who capture your attention—the one holding your eldest son, Aeron, in his arms, a cruel knife pressed to his throat, while the other stands nearby, his presence looming and sinister. Your son is awake, tears streaking down his face, his small body trembling in fear.

“Do not scream,” the man holding your son whispers, his voice low and threatening. “Or the boy dies.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a wave of nausea rising within you as the reality of the situation crashes down. You force yourself to remain calm, to not give in to the terror clawing at your heart.

“What do you want?” you manage to say, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“Vengeance,” the other man—Cheese, they will call him, from his size and the rat-like cunning in his eyes—replies coldly. “For son's blood has been spilled. Now, it is your blood that must pay.”

You take a step forward, and the knife digs deeper into Aeron’s tender skin, a small whimper escaping his lips. Your entire body tenses, every instinct screaming at you to protect your child, but you are powerless, bound by the threat that hangs over him like a blade.

“Let my son go,” you plead, your voice cracking. “Please. He is but a child.”

Cheese’s grin is twisted, devoid of mercy. “A choice, Your Grace. You must choose one of your sons. Two to live, and one to die.”

The words hit you like a blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, the world spinning as the horror of what they ask becomes clear. They want you to condemn one of your children to death. To choose between your sons.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I cannot.”

“You must,” the man holding Aeron insists, his voice a menacing growl. “Or we kill them all three.”

You look between your sons, your heart shattering into pieces. Aeron, your eldest, so brave despite his fear, his wide eyes pleading silently for you to save him. And twin boys, Vaelon and Baelon, still asleep in their cribs, blissfully unaware of the nightmare unfolding around them.

Tears blur your vision, the anguish of the choice tearing at your soul. You cannot do this. You cannot be the one to decide who lives and who dies. But their lives, three of them, hang in the balance, and the choice is yours to make.

“Please,” you beg once more, though you know it is futile. “Do not make me choose.”

Cheese steps closer, his breath foul as he leans in. “Choose, Queen Y/N. Or your precious children will all die, and it will be on your head.”

The weight of your crown feels like a curse as you stand there, trembling, the choice before you too terrible to comprehend. Your hands are shaking, your heart breaking, as the words begin to form on your lips, but they can't leave them.

The world narrows to the unbearable choice before you, every second stretching into an eternity. You stand frozen, the screams of your heart drowned out by the silence that has gripped your throat. Aeron, your firstborn, stares at you with wide, tear-filled eyes, pleading for a salvation you know you cannot grant him. And there, in their cribs, laid Vaelon and Baelon, so small, so unaware, their chest rising and falling peacefully with each breath.

It is the smaller and younger twin’s innocence, his lack of awareness, that seals your fate. If he must die, let it be without knowing fear. Let him slip from this world in the safety of his dreams.

Your decision comes not from cruelty, but from a twisted, desperate kind of mercy.

“Vaelon,” you whisper, your voice a broken thing. “Take him.”

The words taste like ash on your tongue, a confession of the darkest sin. The man holding Aeron grins, his eyes alight with a sadistic satisfaction. But even as the choice leaves your lips, a cold realization claws at the back of your mind—this was never meant to end well. They were never going to let Aeron live.

You see it happen almost in slow motion, the knife glinting in the dim light as it draws across your eldest son’s throat. The sound that escapes him is a choked gasp, eyes widening in pain and betrayal as the blood wells and spills down his neck.

“No!” The word tears from your throat as you lunge forward, but it is too late. The man has already sliced deeper, crimson blooming like a terrible flower. Yet, Aeron is not yet gone. The blade catches as the man’s hand slips, and in that moment of weakness, Alicent—your mother—finds her strength.

With a fury you have never seen, she throws herself against the man holding Aeron, her bound body knocking him off balance. He stumbles, the knife digging deeper but freeing your son from his grasp. Aeron falls to the floor, clutching at his bleeding throat, his small hands stained red.

A scream of pure, primal rage rips from your chest as you hurl yourself at the man, the world around you narrowing to a singular purpose: kill him. You grab for the knife, your hands slick with Aeron’s blood, and wrest it from his grasp. The man struggles against you, but your desperation lends you strength. With a wild, desperate thrust, you drive the blade into his side, feeling the give of flesh and bone as it sinks in.

He gasps, a wet, gurgling sound, eyes wide in shock as he stumbles backward, clutching at the wound. You pull the knife free and stab again, and again, each strike fueled by the agony that has consumed you. Blood splatters across your face, warm and sickening, but you do not stop until he falls, lifeless, to the floor.

In the chaos, you do not notice Cheese until it is too late. He has turned his attention to one of the twins, to Vaelon, your youngest, the one you had chosen to condemn. As your daughter, Daena, screams—a piercing, heart-rending sound that echoes through the nursery—Cheese moves swiftly, seizing the smaller boy from his crib.

“No! Please!” you cry out, scrambling to your feet, but your voice is drowned by the sheer panic that has overtaken you. You are too far, too slow. Vaelon’s eyes flutter open, confusion and fear flickering across his tiny face as the knife flashes once more.

And then it is done. The light fades from Vaelon’s eyes as his small body crumples to the floor, lifeless.

A silence falls over the room, broken only by the sound of your daughter’s sobs, Baelon’s baby gurglings and the ragged breaths of Alicent, who is desperately pressing her hands against Aeron’s wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.

“Aeron!” You rush to him, dropping to your knees beside him. His eyes are glazed with pain, his breathing shallow and labored. The wound is deep, but he is alive, clinging to life by the barest thread.

Cheese is panicking now, his eyes darting around the room as if realizing for the first time the gravity of what they have done. The plan, whatever it was, has gone horribly wrong. He looks at the bodies—the man you killed, Vaelon’s small, lifeless form—and he falters, unsure of his next move.

“You will die for this,” you hiss, every word trembling with a deadly promise. “You will not leave this room alive.”

Cheese takes a step back, fear flashing in his eyes, but before he can act, you move. Fueled by a mother’s wrath and the madness of grief, you surge forward, the bloodied knife still clutched in your hand. He tries to fend you off, but he is no match for the fury that drives you. With a wild, savage strike, you plunge the knife into his chest.

He gasps, a final breath escaping his lips as his eyes go wide, then glassy. He collapses to the floor, joining his fallen companion in death.

You stand there, panting, covered in the blood of your children’s murderers, and of your children themselves. Your hands shake as you drop the knife, the sound of it clattering to the floor barely registering in your mind.

“Y/N,” Alicent calls out, her voice trembling. “Aeron needs you.”

You blink, the fog of rage lifting just enough for you to focus on your son. You drop to your knees beside him, your hands finding his, trying to staunch the flow of blood with trembling fingers.

“Stay with me, my love,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Stay with me. Please.”

Alicent is beside you, pressing her hands down on the wound with all her might. “He’s strong,” she says, though her voice wavers. “He will survive this.”

You nod, though your heart is breaking. You dare not look at Vaelon’s still form, his twin, Baelon, now wide awake in his crib, or at your daughter, Daena, who is now curled into a ball in the corner, sobbing for her brothers. You can only focus on Aeron, on keeping him alive, as the horror of what has happened sinks into your soul.

The night is no longer just cold and rainy; it has become a night of death and despair, one that will haunt you until your last breath. But you will not let it claim Aeron. Not him, too.

And as the dawn begins to break, casting pale light over the carnage, you hold your son close, praying to the Seven to spare him. To spare at least one of your children, as the taste of your own choice, the bitterness of it, poisons your every breath.

Aegon sits in the dim light of your shared bedchamber, his goblet of wine resting lazily in his hand. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls, but the warmth it offers does little to chase away the chill of the autumn night. He sighs, his thoughts drifting to you, knowing that you will join him soon. The bond you share, forged not only by blood but by a deep, consuming love, is one that neither of you can escape, nor would you wish to. Sleep eludes him without you by his side, as it always has since you were children.

He takes another sip of the wine, waiting for the familiar sound of your footsteps approaching. The thought of the night ahead, of holding you close, offers a comfort that softens the weariness in his bones.

But then, a scream pierces the stillness of the night—a scream that he recognizes instantly as belonging to your daughter. It is followed by your voice, raw with anguish, echoing down the corridors.

The goblet slips from his hand, clattering to the floor as he leaps to his feet. The wine spills across the stone, forgotten as dread seizes him. He knows something is terribly wrong. Without a moment’s hesitation, he rushes to the door, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Your Grace!” one of the Kingsguard calls as they fall into step behind him, but Aegon doesn’t respond. The only thought in his mind is to reach you, to reach his children.

He tears down the hall, his bare feet slapping against the cold stone, until he reaches the nursery. The door is ajar, shadows flickering ominously in the light from the hallway. The scent of copper fills his nostrils before he even crosses the threshold, a scent that chills him to the core.

He bursts into the room, but in his haste, he doesn’t notice the slickness beneath his feet until it’s too late. His foot slips on the blood that pools on the floor, and he stumbles, barely catching himself on the doorframe before he can fall.

For a moment, everything seems to slow. He looks down at the blood smeared across the floor, the vivid red of it stark against the stone. And then he sees the scene before him, a tableau of horror that makes his breath catch in his throat.

Two men lie dead on the floor, their bodies twisted in death, blood oozing from fatal wounds. But it is not them that hold his attention; it is the small, lifeless form of Vaelon, his infant son, lying not far from them, his throat cruelly slit. Aegon’s heart seizes, his vision blurring with tears that he fights to hold back.

“No… no, no…” The words are barely a whisper as he staggers forward, his mind unable to fully comprehend the sight before him.

But there is more—your mother, Alicent, is on the floor, her hands pressed desperately against Aeron’s throat, trying to stem the flow of blood. And there you are, kneeling beside your eldest son, your hands covered in blood, your face a mask of desperation and despair as you try to keep him alive.

“Y/N!” Aegon chokes out your name as he rushes to you, his voice filled with fear and anguish. “What… what happened?”

You look up at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying, and the sight of you breaks something deep within him. “Aegon… they… they killed Vaelon,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “They tried to kill Aeron… we… I couldn’t stop them…”

Aegon falls to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uselessly over Aeron, unsure of what to do. He can see the life fading from his eldest son’s eyes, the pale skin, the way his breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps. Aegon feels a crushing sense of helplessness, something he has never experienced with such intensity before.

“Aeron, my boy… stay with us,” Aegon pleads, his voice thick with emotion as he brushes a trembling hand over Aeron’s hair. “Stay with us, please…”

Alicent looks up at her son, her own eyes filled with tears, though she fights to keep them at bay. “We need to stop the bleeding, Aegon. If we don’t… if we don’t…”

“I know,” Aegon says, though his voice is strangled. He tears a strip of cloth from his sleeve, pressing it to Aeron’s wound with a firm but gentle hand. “Stay with me, Aeron. You’re strong. You can fight this.”

But even as he says the words, he feels the cold dread settle in his chest, knowing that the wound is too deep, that his son’s life is slipping away with every passing moment.

You lean into Aegon, your body shaking with sobs as you press your bloodstained hands over his, trying to help, trying to do something—anything—to save your child. But the blood keeps coming, seeping through your fingers, staining the floor beneath you.

“Please… please…” you whisper, over and over, your voice breaking with each word. “Don’t take him from us…”

Aegon pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you even as he continues to press down on Aeron’s wound. He can feel your pain, your sorrow, as if it were his own, and in that moment, he knows that this night will haunt both of you for the rest of your lives.

The Kingsguard finally arrive, swords drawn, their faces pale as they take in the scene before them. But there is nothing they can do; the threat is already gone, the deed already done. All they can do is stand there, silent and grim, as the horror of what has happened sinks in.

“Get a maester!” Aegon commands, his voice rising with desperate urgency. “Now!”

One of the guards rushes off without a word, the others standing watch as if expecting another attack, though it is clear that the danger has passed. Aegon looks down at Aeron, his heart breaking as he watches the light in his son’s eyes flicker and fade.

“Stay with us, Aeron,” he whispers again, but the words sound hollow, empty, even to his own ears.

Alicent, her hands still pressed against the wound, glances at you, her eyes filled with a sorrow so deep it seems to swallow the room whole. “Y/N,” she says softly, her voice thick with grief, “he’s… he’s still fighting. But we need to prepare ourselves… we need to…”

“No!” You cry out, shaking your head violently. “No, he’s going to survive. He has to. He’s strong. Please, Aegon, tell her… tell her he’s going to survive.”

Aegon swallows hard, trying to keep the tears at bay as he looks at you, seeing the hope in your eyes, fragile and desperate. “He’s strong,” he agrees, his voice trembling. “He’s a dragon. He’ll survive this.”

But even as he says the words, he knows that they are more for your sake than for his own. He knows the truth, as much as he hates it, as much as it tears at his very soul.

And then, as if in response to your pleas, Aeron’s breathing hitches, a faint, ragged sound that sends a jolt of hope through your heart. But Aegon sees the truth in the way his son’s eyes begin to flutter shut, the way his small body goes limp beneath your hands.

“No, no, stay with us, please…” you sob, your voice breaking completely as you try to shake him awake, as if you can keep him from slipping away just by sheer will alone.

Aegon pulls you closer, holding you tightly against him, his own tears falling freely now. “Y/N… he’s…”

But before he can finish, the maester arrives, pushing his way into the room with a satchel of supplies. He takes one look at Aeron and immediately sets to work, but Aegon can see it in his eyes—the resignation, the grim acceptance of what is to come.

Aegon watches as the maester tries to stem the bleeding, his hands moving quickly, efficiently, but it is clear that he is fighting a losing battle. You cling to Aegon, your tears soaking into his tunic as you watch, your breath catching in your throat every time Aeron’s breathing falters.

Minutes pass, each one stretching into an eternity, until finally, Orwyle pulls back, his face pale and drawn. He looks up at Aegon, then at you, and shakes his head, his expression filled with sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he says quietly. “There’s… there’s nothing more I can do.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you cry out, your hands trembling as you reach for Aeron, as if you can somehow pull him back from the brink.

“No… no, please, no…” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you cradle your son’s head in your lap, your fingers brushing through his hair.

Aegon feels his heart shatter completely as he watches you, as he sees the light finally fade from Aeron’s eyes, his small body going still in your arms. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but hold you as you break down completely.

The days following the brutal attack on your family pass in a haze of grief and despair. The Red Keep is draped in a suffocating silence, its once lively halls now cold and empty, as though the life has been drained from its very walls. The horror of that night lingers in every corner, every shadow, a constant reminder of the blood that was spilled and the lives that were lost.

Your remaining children, Daena and Baelon, are kept under the strictest watch by the Kingsguard. No less than two knights are stationed outside their chambers at all times, and they are never left alone, not even for a moment. The memory of what happened to their brothers hangs over the nursery like a dark cloud, and every sound, every creak of the floorboards, sends a fresh wave of terror through the household.

But it is you, their mother, who is most affected. The grief has hollowed you out, leaving you a mere shadow of the woman you once were. You spend your days in a state of numbness, your heart shattered beyond repair. Nothing and no one can console you, not even Aegon, who tries desperately to reach you, to bring you back from the edge of the abyss into which you have fallen. But his attempts are in vain. You are inconsolable, broken beyond words.

Aegon himself is a man consumed by fury. The fire of his rage burns hotter with each passing day, fueled by the sheer injustice of what has happened. He holds a small council meeting in the dead of night, summoning only those he trusts—or at least, those whose loyalties he can control.

In the dimly lit council chamber, Aegon sits at the head of the table, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles are white. His eyes are bloodshot, his face drawn and pale from lack of sleep. The tension in the room is palpable, every man present feeling the weight of the King’s anger pressing down on them like a physical force.

Around the table sit Otto Hightower, his face a mask of stern concern; Ser Criston Cole, his expression grim and unyielding; Lord Larys Strong, who watches the proceedings with his usual calculating gaze; Lord Jasper Wylde, the Master of Laws, his fingers tapping nervously on the table; Lord Tayland Lannister, the Master of Ships, who remains unusually quiet; and Grand Maester Orwyle, who sits with his hands folded, his eyes downcast.

Aegon’s voice breaks the silence, a low, seething growl that sends a shiver down the spine of everyone in the room. “How did this happen?” he demands, his eyes blazing with fury as he looks from one man to the next. “How did two men infiltrate the heart of the Red Keep, murder my sons, and nearly take the life of my other children without anyone knowing? Where were the guards? Where was the protection I was promised?”

Otto is the first to speak, his voice calm but firm. “Your Grace, we are all grieved by this tragedy, but rest assured, we are investigating every possible lead. The guards who were on duty that night have been questioned, and those found negligent will be dealt with severely.”

“Dealt with severely?” Aegon echoes, his voice rising with incredulity. “My sons are dead, and you speak of discipline as if that can undo what has been done! This was not just negligence—this was treason, betrayal of the highest order!”

Ser Criston Cole, ever the loyal sword, speaks next, his tone as hard as steel. “Your Grace, the Kingsguard were stationed as ordered, but the enemy was cunning. They knew exactly where to strike, and when. We are searching for any who might have aided them from within the Keep.”

Aegon glares at him, his anger still simmering. “You should have been there, Ser Criston. You should have been protecting my family, as you swore to do.”

Criston bows his head, accepting the rebuke without argument. “I failed you, my king, and I will bear that burden until the day I die.”

Larys Strong, who has remained silent until now, leans forward slightly, his voice smooth and unhurried as he speaks. “Your Grace, the men who did this were not acting alone. This attack was meticulously planned, designed to strike at the heart of your family and weaken your claim. There is but one who stands to gain the most from such an act of terror.”

Aegon’s eyes narrow as he fixes his gaze on Larys. “Speak plainly, Lord Strong. Who do you accuse?”

Larys meets Aegon’s gaze without flinching, his voice carrying a weight of certainty. “Rhaenyra Targaryen, and her husband, Daemon. They are the ones behind this atrocity. They seek to undermine your rule, to sow chaos and discord within the realm, so that Rhaenyra might usurp your throne.”

Aegon’s breath hitches at the mention of his half-sister’s name. His hatred for her is no secret, but to hear that she might be responsible for the deaths of his sons sends a fresh wave of fury coursing through him. “You have proof of this?” he demands, his voice shaking with barely contained rage.

Larys inclines his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “The men who committed the murders—the butcher and the rat catcher—are known associates of Daemon Targaryen. They were hired by him to carry out this heinous act. The gold they were paid with was traced back to Rhaenyra’s supporters in King’s Landing. This was not just an act of violence—it was a message. Response to the death of Lucerys Velaryon by the hand of Prince Aemond.”

Aegon’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging into the wood of the table. “A message? They dare to send me a message by murdering my sons? Two innocent boys?”

“Yes,” Larys replies, his voice as cold as ice. “They wish to show that you are vulnerable, that your rule can be challenged. They wish to provoke you into rash action, to draw you into a conflict that will weaken your position.”

“Rash action?” Aegon scoffs, his anger flaring anew. “They think they can provoke me? They think I will sit idly by while they murder my children?”

“Your Grace,” Otto interjects, his voice measured. “We must be careful. If we move too quickly, without proof, we risk turning the realm against us. Rhaenyra still has many supporters. We must gather our strength, consolidate our power, and then strike when the time is right.”

But Aegon is beyond reason, his grief and rage too great to be tempered by caution. “I will not wait!” he snarls, slamming his fist on the table. “They have taken from me what I hold most dear, and I will make them pay for it, tenfold! If Rhaenyra wants war, then war she shall have!”

The council members exchange uneasy glances, each man aware of the storm that is about to be unleashed. Aegon’s wrath is a dangerous thing, and they know that nothing they say will dissuade him from the course he has set.

Grand Maester Orwyle finally speaks, his voice soft but insistent. “Your Grace, the lives of your remaining children—Princess Daena and Prince Baelon—must be your foremost concern. They are the future of your house, and they must be protected at all costs.”

Aegon’s expression softens slightly at the mention of his children, the thought of them momentarily piercing through the fog of his anger. He knows that Orwyle is right, that the safety of Daena and Baelon is paramount. But even this knowledge cannot quell the burning desire for vengeance that has taken root in his heart.

“I will protect them,” he says, his voice hardening once more. “But I will not allow this attack to go unanswered. Rhaenyra and Daemon will know the price of crossing me.”

Otto inclines his head, understanding that there is no turning back now. “Then we must prepare for war, Your Grace. We must rally our banners, secure our allies, and strike swiftly and decisively.”

Aegon nods, his jaw set with determination. “Do it. Call the banners, prepare the dragons. We will bring fire and blood to those who dare to defy us.”

The council members rise from their seats, each man knowing that the decisions made this night will plunge the realm into chaos. As they leave the chamber, Aegon remains behind, staring at the bloodstained map of Westeros spread out before him. His thoughts drift to you, to the shattered look in your eyes, to the bodies of his sons lying cold in their graves.

He swears to himself, to the gods, and to the memory of his murdered children that he will not rest until Rhaenyra and Daemon are brought to justice. No matter the cost, no matter the blood that must be spilled, he will have his revenge.

And so, the storm begins to gather, the winds of war stirring in the darkness of the Red Keep.

#house of the dragon #alicent hightower #otto hightower #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd aegon #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x you #blood and cheese #criston cole #helaena targaryen

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fuckingrecipes · 2 months

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Hey friend I basically learned to cook from you (you took all the intimidation out of it, and gave me my first meal that other people liked) so I come back like a decade later asking if you have any advice about knives. I don't love cooking but I recognize that the right tools make any task much more satisfying and also I am just so tired of my cheap knives going dull immediately so: what exactly is a "good knife"? Any advice on how to recognize one, and take care of it once acquired? Many many thanks.

Thank you so much, that's really heartwarming to hear <3

Regarding knives: I'm going to go over some basic care & maintenance that will help knives stay sharper, longer... and then some knife recommendations.

Always cut on a cutting board. Wood or plastic. Don't cut food against stone, metal, or glass as they'll fuck up the edge.

Don't use the sharp side of the knife to scrape food off the cutting board. If you wanna use the knife as a scraper, flip it over and use the non-sharpened edge.

Once or twice a year, sit down and sharpen all your knives.

Don't use those shitty little "knife sharpeners", they don't actually give the knife a good or stable edge. Instead, take 30 minutes to learn how to use a whetstone. They're shockingly easy to learn to use, and super effective. You can make a shitty $11 walmart knife razor sharp. Here's another video about it.

Ideally, you should hand wash and towel dry your knives right after you're finished prepping food with them. Best practice is to avoid leaving it in water to soak, and to avoid putting it in the dishwasher. Cleaning it immediately keeps the edge nice, longer, and heads off any rust or corrosion that can happen from leaving acidic juice on the metal.

ALL KNIVES need to be sharpened 2-3x per year if you're a home chef who cooks almost every night. 4-6 months of excellent sharpness, then becoming kinda dull, is normal for a good knife.

Even a $700 knife will eventually get dull and need sharpening, if you're using it frequently. Because knives are tools, they get used, and in being used the metal gets a little damaged. The edge rolls, dents, or gets chipped. So, it needs to be sharpened.

This guy gives an EXCELLENT overview of knives.

You do not need to spend a ton of money for decent knives.

Victorinox and Mercer are solid workhorse brands that make good-quality knives, which you can get for between $20-$60 per knife. Really great for any home kitchen. Wusthof and Zwilling are a little more expensive, and even nicer quality. More expensive than that, and you're looking at high-carbon steels meant to be used by pros for hours and hours, every day. A home chef doesn't need that.

---

There's a lot of specialty knives out there, but I always come back to the 8" chef's knife. Two chef's knives lets me cut raw meat with one, and everything else with the other.

I also have a cleaver and a bread knife for Melons/Bones and Bread respectively, and a small set of smooth-blade steak knives.

Tbh, most people think they have a shitty knife, but really they've just been using it for 3 years straight and never once sharpened it.

#knives #knife sharpening #kitchen tips #fuckingrecipes

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veinsfullofstars · 5 months

Text

At least he owns up to it.

(ID: Kirby series fanart comic of Ribbon hanging out with Dark Meta Knight and offering some criticism regarding his attitude, based on this incorrect quote. Transcript below the cut. END ID.)

Anything to draw more Wave 2 shenanigans. Thanks once again to @incorrect-star-allies for the inspo (seriously, reading these silly quotes always makes my day - if chronic fatigue wasn’t a thing, I’d be making so much more fanart for the things you post, haha.)

UPDATE: Added highlights 'cause I'm a dingus and forgot to add them before I posted.

Started 05/04/24, finished 05/10/24.

---

Transcript:

Panel 1

*Ribbon centered in frame from her midsection up, turned 3/4 towards our left, eyes shut and a hand held palm up as she speaks.*

R: Dark Meta Knight is not a morning person.

Panel 2

*Ribbon turns the opposite way, glancing towards our right with one brow furrowed, tapping her chin pensively with her other hand.*

R: Or a night person.

Panel 3

*Shot pans back to show Ribbon sitting on top of DMK’s head, leaning forward slightly to watch as he sits on the floor and hunches over a sharpening block, running the edge of a combat knife along the well-used stone.*

R: There’s really only about seven minutes a day that you’re fun to be around.

Panel 4

*DMK finishes his sharpening and sits up to inspect the blade, one eye shut, running a thumb along the now sparkling edge. Ribbon - not expecting the movement - starts to tumble backwards off his head, her eyes wide and pupils shrunk, arms and legs and wings spread out in surprise.*

DMK: The best part is you never know when they’re coming.

#veins art #veins fanart #kirby series #kirby #ribbon kirby #dark meta knight #friendship #incorrect quotes #comic #who's babysitting who today?#the dicotomy of tiny pink fairy and edge-orb #Dameta “Number 1 in Child Endangerment” Knight #don't try this at home - you'll probably ruin your back (and your knives)#knife tw #veinsfullofstars

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feyascorner · 9 months

Text

blurry eyes

summary. Orin takes Astarion as a hostage and you nearly lose your mind trying to get him back. Even when you do, things aren't the way they used to be.

warnings. angst/comfort

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

a/n. fluffier break from TFBU bec it's draining the soul out of me🧍‍♀️ this is kinda messy but for me orin always kidnaps lae’zel and Im glad it’s never astarion but what if;;;

You're not yourself. Everyone knows it. Not since Orin showed up at camp wearing Astarion's face, his own blood smeared on the poor imitation of the cheeks you love so deeply. She taunted you, smiling wickedly in a way that made your stomach churn before you lunged at her with a blade, only for her to vanish into a mist of red.

You usually prefer to use your silver tongue to get out of a dangerous situation. But now, all you want to see is her blood sprayed across a wall.

There are bags under your eyes, going days without sleep. You hadn't realized how accustomed you'd become to his arms cradling you in the dead of night, his cold hands wrapped around your shoulders and your cheek pressed against the crook of his neck. You hadn't realized how attached you'd gotten to him.

The fight is quick. Despite your companion's warnings to get some rest, you charged into Bhaal's temple the moment you had access to it, and rightfully so, because she didn't stand a chance against your wrath.

And now, even with him at your fingertips, laying so peacefully on a stone slab with his eyes shut, all you can feel is the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You gently touch his cheek, and you find that it's cold, as it's always been. There's a slice of a knife, surely to leave a scar if it's not treated well. You smile a bit, the first time in days, thinking of how he'd complain about the blemish a few weeks from now.

He finally stirs, and when his eyes peel open to your face, his face falls.

"Gods above," he whispers. "Stop with the damn tricks, Orin. I'm no fool."

Your heart breaks. And while all you want to do is wrap him in your arms and wipe away his frown, the adrenaline holding you together is long gone. You're exhausted, you realize, only managing to grab the edge of the stone slab before you crumple onto your knees, vision going blurry.

Ah, maybe you should have rested.

No, not when he'd been here to suffer alone, forced to face Orin's blood-thirst. Not when you'd smelled his blood on her blade.

You want to comfort him, but nothing comes through your throat.

The two of you don't speak much. He doesn't speak much to anyone, for that matter, for a few days. You can sense the uneasiness of your other companions, who don't dare ask what Orin did to him while you'd nearly lost yourself trying to get to him. You don't approach him, fearing he might recoil away.

The only thing you can do is watch over him while he writhes in his bed, drenched with sweat and nightmares you cannot take away. You're not even sure if they're about Cazador or Orin anymore, but you can't bring yourself to touch him or the healing scar on his cheek in hopes of soothing him.

It's only two weeks later when most of your companions have gone out, and it's just the two of you on opposite sides of the room. You rub at your blade with a cloth, numbly focused on sharpening it for a bigger foe while he's still reading his book in a silence that should feel comfortable but only makes your mouth dry.

"Hells, I can't do this anymore."

You blink as he strides across the room, and he's suddenly sitting next to you while you continue staring at him like he grew a mushroom from his head. "Do what?"

"We must talk about---well, you know, darling."

Even in this brittle stage of your relationship, the way he says your nickname is loving. It makes your heart squeeze.

You place the blade on the ground. "Okay. We can talk."

There's a silence that hangs in the air before he sighs. "Torture is not a foreign concept to me, my dear. If my years under Cazador's palace did anything for me, it's made my pain tolerance impossibly high."

You frown. This does not make you feel better.

He eyes you from the side, leaning back on both his hands. "What I'm trying to say is, you don't have to worry so much about me. Even if I were to perish, I'm sure there are other vampires willing to help you with your cause to defeat the Elder Brain, though they'd be considerably less charming."

You're immediately on your feet. "Of course, I was worried about you! And I don't care if you've gone through hell and back, pain is still pain, and I don't want to see or think about you even stepping foot into something like that, much less the temple of the Lord of Murder!"

He stands after you. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Other vampires?" you say in disbelief. "Well, I don't want other vampires, I want the one that I can't even sleep without."

Your eyes are glossy now, and you hate yourself for it. You should be consoling him, not becoming emotional over the torture that he experienced. But the words come out like vomit, and you can't stop yourself.

"Love, please don’t ruin your pretty face with tears,” he tries, hands awkwardly hanging in the air as he struggles to find what to do.

“Don't act like getting kidnapped isn't a big deal," you swipe at your eyes. "You won't even talk to us."

He blinks. "Me? Avoid speaking with you?"

"Yes!"

"Well, forgive me for giving you space. You looked positively demented after you were done stabbing that vile woman to the death, I assumed you needed time to recover before I could approach you."

"What? I was giving you space."

"I assure you it was the other way around.”

“You were avoiding me!”

“Because you were avoiding me!”

You're both just staring at each other now, at a loss of words for what turned out to be a miscommunication that should have been resolved days ago. The silence hangs thickly in the air, and a rush of emotions runs between you two, expressions shifting every few moments before they simultaneously become one.

He purses his lips to refrain from smiling. You stifle a laugh.

Then you're both laughing and while the topic of discussion does not warrant as such, you can't help yourself when days of ignoring one another have come down to such a minor bump between you. When both of you calm, you sigh again, this time in utter relief. "This was anticlimactic."

"It was," he confirms. "But this one time, I don't mind."

Wordlessly, you wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face into his chest while he returns the gesture by holding you tighter. You stand there a bit, quietly, until he clears his throat.

"For the record, I don't want you to go around searching for other vampires."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

You decide he can tell you more about what happened when the time comes, but now, you're more than happy the way you are.

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #angst with a happy ending #bg3 tav #bg3

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annecoulmanross · 3 days

Text

So it's been a while. But I couldn't let James Fitzjames Finding Day pass without some celebration—thank you Doug Stenton, Stephen Fratpietro, and Robert W. Park for giving us this wonderful and terrible knowledge. I've made an emotional playlist of all of us currently experiencing whatever emotion this is:

Selected lyrics for each song included below the cut!

Strange Ships | PHILDEL

Strange ships won’t let me sail out Passed by the ice and stone now

2. I, Carrion (Icarian) | Hozier

If the wind turns, if I hit a squall Allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

3. Howling | Wild Rivers

Howling out here for the morning light I can’t sing no more

4. The Yawning Grave | Lord Huron

I tried to warn you when you were a child I told you not to get lost in the wild I sent omens and all kinds of signs I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes

5. Sax Rohmer #1 | The Mountain Goats

Ships loose from their grins, capsize and then they’re gone Sailors with no captains watch a while and then move on

6. Long Wave | Dessa

Starve the guard dog And see what hunger does It’s easy when we’re well fed To talk of love

7. Achilles Come Down | Gang of Youths

Throw yourself into the unknown, With pace and a fury defiant Clothe yourself in beauty untold, And see life as a means to a triumph

8. Eat You Alive | The Oh Hellos

I’ve seen the true face of the things you call life The song of the siren that holds your desire Death, she is cunning and clever as hell And she’ll eat you alive

9. My Ego Dies At The End | Jensen McRae

Leave my body and my ego early Kill it kind with a surgeon’s mercy Claim I put it out of its misery

10. Who We Are | Hozier

Darling, we sacrificed We gave our time to something undefined This phantom life sharpens like an image But it sharpens like a knife

11. Devourer | Aidoneus

Beams of light, show me how to feel Light the gloam, find my Achilles heel I will welcome my mortality—let me go

12. Sound the Bells | Dessa

Go lift your sails up For one last swell Go lift yourselves up To sound the bells

13. Your Bones | Of Monsters and Men

Said goodbye to you my friend As the fire spread All that’s left are your bones That will soon sink like stones

14. Wildflower and Barley | Hozier, Allison Russell

This year, I swear it will be buried in actions This year, I swear it will be buried in words Some close to the surface, some close to the casket I feel as useful as dirt, put my body to work

15. These Bones | Azrai, Momo O’brien

It’s a savage sea we’re made to roam Every tide can turn to haunt us But the ocean reaches past these ghosts And I will always sail for more

16. By Way Of Sorrow | Cry Cry Cry

You have come by way of sorrow You have come by way of tears You’ll reach your destiny Meant to find you all these years

17. Gracestone | PHILDEL

When I open my final door I’m gonna sail much wilder seas than your ships were built for I’m turning into dust across that cove You know, I have known enough to not feel owed

18. Glowing | The Oh Hellos

You’ll rise, like land, pulled up at the sound of some strange commandment A moon alight, reflecting fully And I guess it would feel like rebirth, out of some kind of dying To see yourself so glowing

#terrorposting #the terror #the terror amc #james fitzjames #franklin expedition #stenton et al 2024 #jfj finding day

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bubblebaththoughts · 10 months

Text

Somnophilia

perv!Lo’ak x Fem!Omatikayan!Reader

kinkmas masterlist

warnings: 18+ MDNI! SOMNOPHILIA!!!, kinda dark, dubcon, pervy Lo’ak, Lo’ak is a little delulu, P in V, “unwanted” touches, Reader is Kiri’s best friend.

“Kiri! Stop it!” You shoved her off

“Ah- Someone has a crush!!!” Kiri teased

You both hear the flap of the tent-like marui pod swoosh open and then closed, neither bothered to look and see who it was as you two were basically in the middle of a wrestling match.

“You like him!” Kiri pointed in your face

“She likes who?” The person who walked in now spoke up, making you and Kiri finally look up to see who it was.

You knew who it was by his voice, Lo’ak. Kiri’s face dropped as she saw him, looking over at you for a second to widen her eyes.

“None of your business.” Kiri answered for you, crossing her arms at Lo’ak

He merely shrugged, passing the two of you to sharpen his hunting knife in the corner. He kept his head down, grinding the sharp edge against a stone as you and Kiri resumed your conversation.

You must have forgotten Lo’ak was there, and he could hear about your admiror“And then Nìtem was adjusting me and I-“

“Nìtem?” Lo’ak interrupted, almost dropping his knife “You like Nìtem?”

Your eyes snap up at him, a murderous glare.

“Brother, I suggest you keep your mouth shut.” Kiri warns, a stern look crossing her face

“Seriously? Nìtem!” Lo’ak scoffed

“What do you care?” You ask, your eyes narrowed at him

“I didn’t.” Lo’ak shook his head “I don’t care.”

“Mind your own business baby brother.” Kiri sassed

Lo’ak rolled his eyes, going back to sharpening his knife with a huff.

“I wanna go look at the stars.” You sighed, lying down on the floor and staring up at the low ceiling of the pod.

“Then go look at the stars.” Kiri suggested

“Are you going to come?” You perked your head up

“No it’s cold.” Kiri smiled “If you want to go out there, you’re on your own.”

“I’ll go.” Lo’ak said, lowly

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped listening in on my conversations.” Kiri’s eye glared around Lo’ak

“And I’d appreciate it if you would stop being such a baby.” Lo’ak sassed back to his sister.

“I’m going to look at the stars, I don’t care who comes.” You shrug, walking out by yourself

You hear footsteps beside you, Lo’ak’s footsteps.

“You really like Nìtem?” He asked softly

You shook your head, “No.”

“Then why-“ Lo’ak began

“Just because he came up in conversation doesn’t mean I like him.” You tell him, peeking back to see his face

You find an area that isn’t completely covered by trees so the stars were all visible.

“So why did you want to see the stars?” Lo’ak asked as you squatted down on the mossy ground

Your eyes snap up at him, “Why did you want to come out here with me?”

Your hands feel around the ground, making sure it was smooth so you could lay down to watch the sky.

“I asked you first.” Lo’ak countered as he got down on the ground next to you

“Because, I mean-. Look at them.” You pointed up at the sky. “They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, they are.” Though Lo’ak’s eyes never left you as you were explained your reasoning

Your head turns to him, “So why did you come out here with me?” You repeat tour earlier question

“Just-“ Lo’ak began “Just gotta keep an eye on you.” He shrugged

You scoff, “If anyone should have an eye on them it should be you, Lo’ak.”

He mocks offense, placing a hand on his own chest, “How could you say that?”

“Whatever, troublemaker.” You roll your eyes, tilting your head back up to the sky “And stop staring at me, watch the sky.”

Lo’ak listens, for the first time ever, and readjusted himself to look up at the sky.

You are comforted by the silence of the world right now. The clan were all, for the most part, asleep. And soon you felt your eyes getting heavy and then very soon after that, you had drifted off to sleep.

Lo’ak hadn’t noticed until he had heard a light snore come from you. That’s when he looked over and noticed your sleeping form.

At first, he wanted to wake you up, but he felt it was best to leave you alone. But he didn’t want to leave you there, what kind of friend would he be if he left you there?

But it was cold out here, like Kiri had mentioned. He debated with himself, but figured if he just got close to you, your body heat would keep each other warm.

So Lo’ak scooted close to you, slipping his arm around your waist and holding you as close as he could allow himself.

Sleep wouldn’t come to Lo’ak like it did to you. Instead, all he could think about was how close he was to you, how the curve of your ass fit perfectly against his hips, how your head rested on his shoulder, how hard he could feel himself getting.

He tried to brush it off, go to sleep, anything. This wasn’t the best time, at all.

He found that his hands had a mind of their own as they gently squeezed at your hips, absentmindedly pulling you back on forth on to him for some sort of relief.

Lo’ak shifted against you, his eyes flickering down to your sleeping face. You wouldn’t mind, right? Fuck it, he didn’t care.

He leant down, his lips peppered kisses on your neck as his long fingers slipped under your loincloth.

You sighed, making Lo’ak pause, he peeked down at your face, you were still asleep.

He continued his venture to your pussy, pushing your loincloth completely out of the way.

He had to hold back a moan as his fingers separated your soft folds, Eywa, you were so wet, so wet for him, you just didn’t know that, yet. His finger circled your clit for a moment before he moved it down to your tight hole.

He edged to tip of his finger in, watching your face for a reaction. Once you didn’t react, he sunk his finger in.

Your body naturally reacted to him, your walls gushed around his single finger. He smirked down at you, you were being so good for him.

Slowly, he started to gently thrust his finger in and out of you. While somehow still asleep, you arch your back against him, a low breathy moan leaving your lips. You were so reactive.

Suddenly, the best idea he’s ever come up with popped into his head. He pulls his finger from you with a quiet “pop”.

Lo’ak maneuvered himself from behind you and gently laid you on your back, He slowly untied your loincloth and discarded it. Then he spread your legs until he could fully see your pretty pussy, all splayed out tor him, dripping wet.

“Fuck, sevin…” He muttered to himself lowly as he sunk in between your beautiful legs.

He admired your beauty for a second before he used his fingers to hold your pussy lips apart so he would have better access to your little clit.

He leaned in, taking your clit in his mouth, swirling his tongue on it. He began to hear your breathy sighs once again as he continued his advance on you.

You slowly begin to drift from deep sleep, feeling a beautiful sensation between your legs. Your eyelids flutter open and you can barely make out the silhouette of a figure hovering over your pussy. You soon realize that it's Lo’ak and he's definitely in between your legs, his tongue gliding along your sensitive skin.

“Lo’ak!” You gasped down at him

His eyes flickered up at you, a smirk falling on his lips before he looked back down to continue his meal.

His tongue is gentle and playful as it swirls in circles around your clit. His movements are slow and calculated as he teases you, running his tongue along your inner and outer lips. His breathing is heavy and you can feel his desire for you emanating from his body.

He slides his tongue back up to your clit and sucks it into his mouth, gently biting and licking it. You moan softly in pleasure and arch your back, pressing your hips up against his face. His hands wander up your body and he kneads your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers as he continues to pleasure you.

“Lo’ak… please.” You didn’t even know what you were asking for, you didn’t know if you wanted him to stop… or to fuck you with his tongue harder.

Your desire for him grows and you can feel your orgasm building. He moves his tongue faster and faster, pushing you over the edge. You cry out as pleasure washes over you, your orgasm rippling through your body. He doesn't stop until every last wave of pleasure has passed and you collapse onto the ground, exhausted.

He crawled up to you, hovering over you.

“What the fuck Lo’ak!” You cursed at him, out of breath

“You wanted it, sevin. Your body was calling for me.” He grunted into your ear, then leaning down to kiss, bite, and suck on your neck.

“Aha- Lo’ak- You shouldn’t.” You try to push him away

“Why not, sevin?” He whined to you “Made you feel so good, didn’t I?”

“You did but-“ You began

“But what? No need to fight me if you want this. C’mon pretty girl, don’t make me stop.” He was more focused on leaving love marks on your neck than to listen to you

“We might get caught.” You tried to reason with him

“That’s a risk I’m definitely willing to take.” He moaned against your neck. “Besides, no one is awake sevin, no need to worry. It’s just you and me, and the stars.”

“Hah… Okay.” You give in

Your hands wander his body, gliding up his torso to his shoulders, then his neck as he peppered kisses on yours.

“I’ve wanted you…” He leaned in, kissing your lips “…for so long.”

“Lo’ak…” You whined against him

“Patience, sevin.” He remarked, pulling away, he brings his hand to your cheek, his thumb rested on your lips as he observed your beauty.

You feel his hands on every inch of your body, exploring the curves of your hips, the swell of your breasts, and the contours of your face. His lips follow suit, sending tingles down your spine as he leaves a trail of kisses across your skin. His hands wander further, pushing against your inner thighs as his mouth finds its way to yours.

His kiss is passionate and hungry, his body pressing against you as he holds you close. You feel yourself melting into him, every inhibition and worry slipping away as you succumb to his touch.

He continues to explore your body, like his hands and lips never want to be still for a moment.

His hands wander further south, caressing your inner thighs before he slips a finger inside of you. Your eyes close and you moan with pleasure as he slowly moves his finger in and out of you. You feel his hard cock on your thigh and you open your eyes to see him looking at you with pure desire. He moves his finger faster, and you arch your back as the pleasure builds inside of you.

“You getting close again?” He asked, teasingly

“Mhm..” You moan, too embarrassed to use your words

He slides his finger out, making you whine.

He moves so that he is on top of you, pushing his cock against your slick pussy. You gasp as he slides inside of you, filling you completely. He moves his hips in deep theusts, driving you wild with pleasure.

“That feels better, doesn’t it?” He whispered to you as he brought his finger back down to your cunt, this time focusing solely on your clit

“Faster… please.” You moan in response, trying to grind against his slow pace.

“You got it princess.” He smirked, speeding up his thrusts

“Ah! Lo’ak!”

“It’s okay, you’re right there aren’t you?” His head leaned down to kiss on your neck again

“Yes!”

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, until you can't take it anymore. You cry out as you reach the peak of pleasure, thrashing against him.

“You’re squeezing me so good sevin, c’mon, make me cum pretty girl.” He moaned

You pull him against you tightly, letting him decide the pace now that you had already cum.

With a whimper, he’s cumming, and he’s cumming deep inside of you.

You feel his warmth as he fills you with his cum, marking you as his own. You lay there, panting, your body still trembling from the pleasure he has given you.

“Told you we wouldn’t get caught.” He smiled, reaching to your face to push your hair back

“Whatever,” You whine, pushing at his chest

“You don’t think I’m going anywhere do you?” He asked with a tilt to his head “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He leans down, biting your neck gently and then whispers: “You’re mine now.”

taglist: @danniackerman @loaksslut

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