#while also being a bad mother at the same time

[pastadoughie]

i dont know how to say it or what to even do at this point

i am in an abusive housing situation. witch isnt really new info nor something i talk about often. i have learned to deal w/ shit on my own overtime, aswell as my situation getting slightly better with my distancing from certain family members. but its still bad.

my mother & my brother are both extremely abusive, my brother is phisically abusive, and my mother is a pedophile. they are the only other familial ties i have aside from my dad, and they obviously arent viable and would be worse for me.

my dad is my best option in terms of family and the only person i live with currently. when hes drunk he can be actively cruel & abusive, regularly threatening sexual abuse via forfeiting custody of me to my mother. but im still semi able to reason with him while he isnt drunk. most the times hes simply neglectful, witch is preferable to the alternative atleast. & can somewhat be manipulated into caring about me, or at the very least signing & agreeing to things if i do all of the other legwork

i have a disability of some sort, i have alot of theories but overall doctors refuse to properly test me. i smoke so, they just blame every single issue i have on that & dont listen to ANY of my concerns. somewhat similar to pots in terms of symtoms. i just call it "the slop", this sortof sludge that clouds all my thoughts and everything i do. when it gets bad i cant move properly, often knocking things over, completely losing my train of thought. it can be really hard to have conversations with me, i spend alot of time being silent, keep repeating the same simple few words, dont really listen properly. i can sometimes spend hours just staring off into space. it gets better when im laying down, but sometimes not even that helps. it takes a certain kind of determination to get literally anything done. witch is really hard given my lack of any kind of support.

if i am not extremely ontop of things, if i cant force myself to do things through the slop, then i end up getting into these sludge spirals. i dont eat. i dont drink. i just lay in bed. you get so dizzy and your mouth gets so dry, and so hungry, and the slop is just unbarable. not even really existing as a person, sleeping 18 hours a day, sort of halfheartedly & extremely badly trying to do basic tasks, like eating or drinking, and then after 4 hours i just. go back to sleep. its unbarable & dehumanizing. & its not like i have anybody that can help me. i explain this to people and then they always make suggestions on how to manage it that requires another person to help, and then they never listen when i say i do not have anybody.

i need to get some kind of treatment and i need to get some kind of testing, but doing so requires so much work so many phone calls so much effort that i HAVE to do on my own, that i just. dont have the energy for. its not that im intellectually or phisically incapable i just, im just always in slop. its just always a barrier i have to work around. and the fact that just. the entire fucking medical system is so rotten to the core w/ incompetance & malice twards queer and disabled people means that its just.. so hard to get anything done at all for treatment.

and beyond the fact i have to get meds, i also really need to work on moving out. while i dont think my dad would realistically kick me out until im 18, as that would require actually doing paperwork. i dont trust him to be nice to me beyond that point.

and incase i need to say this to some sheltered fuck who does not understand this. no i cannot go to dcs. i have dealt with dcs my entire life. dcs is not an organization made to help people. it never HAS been. any good they do is incedental. they are at their core a government organization that is supposed to sound good. they do not help children. my tharapist submitted a dcs report about my brother trying to kill me back in december, and i had a dcs worker come to my door and start defending pedophilia to me. every single encounter i have had with dcs has eaither done nothing or actively been harmful to me in having a dcs worker actively encorage my families various abusive behavior.

in summery, i need some kind of help figuring out a way to. deal with everything. ideally something that would help me with practical stuff like medical paperwork, scedualling appointments, that stuff. ideally focused on & or primarily targeted to queer autists in the 16 to mid 20s range of ages. and also that is within arizona. most of the stuff ive been reccomending is stuff like housing and independant living programs, witch while helpful what im looking for is primarily medical help & that is centered around more chronic issues & disabilities that like, need more testing & such to be diagnosed, and not really in the vein of teaching me how to do appointments & such, i know how. i just. am not super good at functioning in general.

dont dm me saying "oh im always here if u wanna talk!!" thats weird. i dont know you.

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 13 | chapter 14

"We'll arrive at Sunspear in a week's time," Oberyn announced, approaching you leaning against the railing on the quarterdeck, facing the vast ocean ahead.

Darkness had started to loom around the ship, waves almost as black as a squid's ink. The sun was almost a quarter visible as it was being consumed by the horizon, obliterating any light. The only thing shining across the distance was the red patch of sky encircling the edges of the sun. If it weren't for the torches surrounding the deck, you wouldn't be able to see the Dornishman standing beside you. "How do you feel about that? A lot has changed since we left home."

"Indeed," you said. "I thought I'd look forward to my warm bed and the fresh air of Dorne back home. Now, it seems like I'm terrified setting foot on some land I thought was my birthplace."

"You don't have to be," he assured you. "You're not alone, you know. And your sister is the Queen—"

"She doesn't even know who I am, does she?" You turned to look at him.

Oberyn shrugged. "She will. In time."

You sighed, avoiding his gaze. The sky had turned blood orange. "And I . . . I don't think I'm worthy to be a Targaryen as much as I'm a Martell."

"Don't be so hard on yourself-"

"I'm a bastard, if any, I'm just good at being a bastard. That's all I'll ever be. You know, I think I probably prefer being a bastard, with no one expecting me of anything—"

"The blood of Rhaella Targaryen runs through your veins," Oberyn interjected. "You don't know yet of its importance but you will in time."

"I—" You immediately stopped talking upon seeing Cersei walk around the deck, with a handmaiden following behind her, her eyes on the horizon beyond, witnessing what little of the sun left before it was devoured by the ocean.

"Because of her, right? You've grown fond of her," Oberyn said, sighing. "You're even wearing her damn necklace."

As if she knew you were looking, Cersei turned towards the quarterdeck, her eyes meeting yours in a tensed gaze. Your hand grabbed against the wooden railing a bit too hard. Oberyn was far from wrong. It was because of the Lannister woman.

This was all too easy and perfect if you were just you — a bastard from the Martell house. You would serve Cersei, even if your family would despise you. But sometimes, people fall in love with someone they can't have.

You missed the Queen Mother terribly, her striking green eyes piercing right through yours, observing what you two could possibly be talking about for making you frown that bad.

All you wanted to do at that moment was hold her, and tell her that you still wish to marry her if she also felt the same about you.

"I . . . I do," you confessed softly, avoiding Cersei's eyes. "She's . . . She's my weakness."

"It will pass, Y/n."

You then turned to glare at Oberyn. "What's that supposed to mean? When you fell in love with Ellaria, did it pass too?"

"That's different, Y/n. You think Cersei will feel the same about you if she only knew?" Oberyn scoffed. "The Lannisters were one of the houses that ended the line of Targaryens. They even paid mercenaries to assassinate Queen Daenaerys herself and she's in another continent. If Cersei knew you were Daenaerys' sister, bastard or not, she'd kill you herself. Did you forget what they did to Robert's bastards?"

Cersei had now walked towards the stern, staring into the darkness ahead. Her golden hair billowing against the wind was the only brightest thing in that ship.

"All I'm saying is," Oberyn went on. "You ought to be careful. End it while it's still early. Cersei is a woman of ruthless nature. She wouldn't see you through."

Oberyn then placed a hand on your shoulder before he left.

You sighed, right hand curling into a fist on your side, mind fighting between leaving and heading towards the woman down below. Yet, the heart wanted what it wants as you began to climb down the stairs leading to the stern.

"You said you'd always want to have your own ship one day," you started, approaching Cersei, her perfume infiltrating your nostrils. The wind gently blew the Queen's hair against all directions, and it was such a wonderful sight.

Cersei raised a hand towards the handmaiden, making the latter bow before leaving you both alone.

"You remember," she replied, her eyes still on the dark horizon.

"Of course." You smiled, walking closer. "How could I not? Did it meet your expectations then, Your Grace?"

"It's not my first time riding a ship, although a lot has changed. The waves are somewhat smaller than I remember years ago. And the sunset has never been that red before."

You were now standing side by side with the Lioness, your hand on the railing, at least an inch away from where Cersei's hand was.

"It hasn't for a long time. People in Dorne believe that red skies are often associated with warnings or change. That whenever a sky is as red as blood, any decision you put forth on that day should be carefully done, unless you don't regard any bad omen coming your way."

She chuckled softly. "And what do you say to these beliefs?"

Cersei turned her head to look at you, expecting your reply, a glint in her eye.

Your eyes never left hers, travelling from her mouth back to her eyes. "I . . . I just think that it's such a beautiful occurrence to see. And I don't care about the consequences."

Cersei stopped smiling, understanding you weren't talking about any Dornish myths or beliefs anymore. Both of your fingers were barely brushing, distance diminishing each second. It would seem apparent that you two were leaning forward to each other.

Until Ellaria coughed behind you, stopping you both. "Supper is ready."

~~~

Being a Martell, you thought travelling by water would have made you immune against seasickness, but maybe it was the remnants of The Mountain's strength that had weaken you.

The trip to Dorne would take almost a week, and it only took three days before you started feeling nauseated. Going back and forth to the head just to eradicate the upset churning in your stomach had drained your energy. Ellaria had took mercy, bringing you a bucket to use beside you.

Cersei's presence was the only thing that made it bearable. You would join her at the dining cabin at night time, talking for hours that even Oberyn had almost fallen asleep on the table.

On the fifth night, you had excused yourself from dinner and surrendered to the confines of your cabin. Maybe it was the way the ship was swaying against the huge tides from the forecasted storm or the stale food you ate during breakfast. Either way, you had secluded yourself to recover.

The Queen Mother was having none of it though, knocking against your door some time later that night and bringing you a steaming hot bowl of soup.

"It's Venison," Cersei said, as she sat on the side of your bed. "I had our cook made it. Hot liquids can help calm an upset stomach. Tommen would always have them when he's sick."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you replied, straightening yourself as you leaned your back against the headboard of your bed. "You shouldn't have troubled yourself."

But instead of giving you the bowl, she insisted to feed you with a spoonful, leaning closer to you. With cheeks flushed from the act of endearment, you let the woman coddle you.

"You never come to me as someone who gets sick travelling by sea," she teased, a smile on her face.

"Well, I normally don't," you argued, making the Queen laugh.

"Quit being cocky and let yourself be taken care of."

One of the Dornish servants suddenly barged through the door, eyes wide upon seeing you not alone. There was a crate of supplies for your wound on her arms.

"Leave it," Cersei ordered, making the servant drop the crate unto a table nearby.

After you have finished the bowl, Cersei brought her hands to the hem of your tunic, attempting to pull it off you. Heart skipping a beat when you felt her fingers brush against your skin, you immediately stopped her, wrapping your hand around her wrist. "What are you doing?"

The Lannister woman smirked as she stood and walked away instead, taking the crate of supplies from the doorway. "I'm changing the dressing of your wound."

After a few moments of hesitation, you finally let Cersei get rid of your tunic. Her eyes softened upon the sight of her necklace's golden lion pendant on your chest and the bruised skin, now had gone purple close to healing.

She then began delicately cleaning the wound on your chest, her thumb purposefully brushing your nipple, every touch bringing you shivers. You swallowed, cheeks red as you attempted to move away from her.

"Stop moving," Cersei said, giggling.

"Stop teasing me then," you countered back.

After she had managed to change your dressing, you noticed a tent growing under your breeches. Everything seemed to freeze at that moment as you quickly took one of your pillows to hide it when Cersei was looking away.

Yet, there was nothing the Queen could miss as her curious eyes began wondering why there was a pillow on your lap. She sat back on the side of your bed, leaning forward and closer to your body.

Her sultry voice near your face made you harder than you were before, your cock straining painfully from the weight of the pillow. "Do you also need help with something else, My Lady?"

"Your Grace, I don't think—"

"Stop thinking," she whispered into your ear, her hand slipping inside your breeches and stroking your hardening cock. "Just breathe, Y/n. Let yourself go. Take pleasure in my hand."

Letting out an embarrassingly loud groan, you threw your head back against the headboard, eyes rolling deep into the back, hands clutching against the sheets on both sides.

Cersei's eyes darted towards your cock when she managed to pull it out from your breeches, twitching against her touch. It had never looked this painfully hard before, you thought you wouldn't last a second longer.

"You have a pretty cock, you know," she cooed, her lips nipping the skin on your jaw and neck. Her hand moved expertly, squeezing you tight as if milking you, and she did manage, her thumb tracing over the small cum leaking from your head then spreading it on your entire length.

"Cersei. . ."

The sound of your whimpers made Cersei turn to stare at you, observing your every reaction, with your eyes shut close and mouth agape. "You looked so prettier under my control."

"Cersei, I'm close. . ."

"Good," she said.

You opened your eyes to see what she meant, but what you saw only made you lose it. The Queen took the entire length of your cock into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down in a fast pace. The sight itself, the wetness and warmth from her mouth and the moan she let out when she took you made you explode right into her.

And she took it all, swallowing everything there was to milk. You cursed profanities into the silent night, grunting your release, releasing a lot more when she took you deeper.

It seemed like eternity when you had finally come down from your high, watching Cersei clean your shaft before licking the side of her lips from any residue. She then tucked your cock back into your breeches and leaned forward back to you.

"I would have hated wasting a single drop," she finished with a smug smile on her face.

I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link. Thank you so much ❤🥰

[oristian]

So how come we can tell that Elain wants azriel and is attracted to azriel but Eluciens claim they need Elain's POV to confirm she doesn't want Lucien??

Idk it's almost like thoughts and acts and verbal things she has said matter?? It's almost like... we don't need everyone and their mother's POV to tell very basic information??

Y'all acting like she is a complete black box just because we don't have her POV yet 😭😭

What if I said "oh we need Lucien's POV to tell he actual feels a bond and didn't orchestrate a fake mating bond to claim an Archeron sister after she got made?"

"But he wouldn't do that"

How am I supposed to know he wouldn't!! We don't have his POV either 🤪 he could be Koschei for all we know 🤷🏻‍♀️

And nobody better fucking bring up Feyre hating Rhys or Nesta kicking Cassian in the balls. Their words differed from their actions. They might've SAID they hated their love interests at the time, but their ACTIONS differed. Anyone who genuinely thought Feyre hated Rhys or Nesta hated Cassian is literally just lying atp because come on what do you mean you didn't pick up on that?? Nesta was willing to die for Cassian and Feyre was literally thinking Rhys was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Be so fr.

Elain's actions match her words. We don't need her POV to know that.

Good morning! This might be a long response, so hope you enjoy!

Elain Archeron is a book character. Books follow standards enacted by the stricture of narratives, and how stories are told overall—in short, the reader is being told something through a book. A story is told through settings, dialogue, characters, et cetera. While the reader may be able to create their own theories, pick up on literary devices, and generate predispositions, until the reader is fully informed by the intent of the author on page, it is speculation.

When people claim that we need Elain’s POV to understand how she is feeling towards Lucien, that is very much true. There is a plethora of reasons as to why she shifted her composure around him between ACOWAR and ACOSF. From asking if he is alright and inviting him to Velaris, to shrinking around him? Until we are in her inner monologue and seeing what she is seeing, the reader can only speculate. Is she now very horny for him, is the mating bond chafing when he’s around, did she have a vision of their future, is she wildly attracted to him, et cetera? The same way that people claim she is in love with Azriel is the same way we claim we need her POV—neither is true until Elain confirms it herself with her own thoughts, feelings, and words.

Now, I want to bring up “thoughts, actions and verbal things,” because, more often than not, it is misconstrued. The only instance where the reader might be swayed to believe that Elain feels anything for Azriel is the almost kiss in the bonus chapter. However, we only had Azriel’s POV. Compared to Wings and Embers bonus chapter with Nessian, the reader was lacking the female’s POV. With Nesta and Cassian, we read that both were feeling the pull towards each other in that chapter. In ACOSF, we were limited to just Azriel—why is that? As for the other lines of dialogue that are seemingly connected to Elriel, those are regarding Graysen. “I don’t want a male,” would also be applied to Azriel, no? “And that love would trump even a mating bond,” is about Graysen.

I have been asked before how I can confidently ship Elucien when Elain seemingly lost her “newfound boldness,” and, “shrunk in on herself,” when Lucien came during Solstice. While I do understand how some people can read that as a negative for the ship, I once again have to say that we do not know why either of those actions happened. There has been zero indication that Lucien is forcing himself on her, is bad for her, and/or is disrespecting her wishes, so why has Elain suddenly started acting like this? This is why we claim that we need her POV for all of these unanswered questions.

Essentially, Elain is a blank sheet of paper. Could she stay this newfound meek personality and live all her days in a small cottage with a garden, or will she revert back into her old personality and become the socialite that she once was? While the reader can understand some of her character, she is still more shifted towards the background and is lacking the substance that a fleshed out POV and aligned character development would offer to her. This is one of the reasons why so many people seemingly dislike her character, because she has not been able to explain her actions. This was similar to Nesta.

The example you brought up with Lucien and the bond needing clarification actually was solved very quickly in ACOMAF. When Feyre unleashed Helion’s spellcleaving magic and broke the bonds in Hybern, she would have broken any fake mating bond tied to Elain and Lucien. Feyre has also been inside of Lucien’s head while he was experiencing the tug of mating instincts. Elain has felt the tug of the bond and Lucien was able to experience her from the inside due to the bond. They both have experienced mating behavior towards each other. The reader has had a snippet of Lucien’s POV.

Feyre, Nesta and Elain are all similar in how they were reluctant to accept the bond at first—the only difference is that Elain is fully aware of the bond before she accepts it. Feyre and Nesta were stuffed into forced close proximity with both of their mates, which also differs from Elain, and her sisters also had access to their mates before they turned fae. Elain met Lucien the night she turned fae and had very little alone time with him. Feyre and Nesta both experienced firsthand the chaffing of the bond while being so close to their mates for so long, but Elain has not. Elain was in love and engaged to Graysen and was now suddenly tossed a fae male as her mate, while simultaneously losing her humanity? It is only reasonable that she would not be jumping for joy over this new revelation.

SJM is an author that uses similar patterns across her entire body of work. To say that we cannot compare how she wrote Feysand and Nessian to Elucien in the same series makes no sense to me. Now, I do believe that you have contradicted yourself in your paragraph regarding Feyre and Nesta. I agree, while they may have claimed that they wanted nothing to do with their mates, their actions showed the reader otherwise. Elain is similar with Lucien, however, she has not once said that she hated him, wanted him gone, wanted to reject the bond, et cetera. Anything she has said against wanting a fae male was because she wanted Graysen and to return to her mortal life. Her actions towards Lucien have included worriment for his safety, relief that he is alright, inviting him to Velaris, keeping all of his Solstice gifts, the half step, et cetera. Someone who planned on rejecting the bond with their mate would not have done any of the above.

If the reader does not need Elain’s POV, why would she need an entire book? If her thoughts, feelings, and actions are fully explained from another’s POV, why would she need to explain herself in her own inner monologue? She already has hobbies, friends, a lover, a home, joy, purpose, and family—what would be the point of her having a book?

I so hope I managed to answer your question. Have a good day!

[sosadraws]

A very extensive list of replika headcanons because I'm sick and tired of laying in bed doing nothing

Warning: VERY LONG

Elster

-It's not that they love being solitary as much as being very awkward interacting with others, and their serious faces doesn't make them any more approachable...

-They deal with loneliness with always keeping themselves busy and making routines packed to the top with things to do.

-In that sense, Elster genuinely enjoys tasks that require some level of problem solving.

-They have a deep, hoarse voice. That being said, they don't really talk much.

-In her relationship with Ariane, she was the "acts of service" person. Even as Ariane sickness progressed, she tried to bring her comfort as much as she could.

Eule -They're very flexible

-They hum a lot while doing chores, and can come up with song lyrics on the get go.

-One of the reasons why replikas have short hair is because otherwise Eules would get distracted easily braiding and styling it

-At times they can be kinda harsh with themselves. They strive for perfection (their gestalt was an overachiever)

-The walk like models/swing their hips a lot

Kolibri -They function on 70% caffeine

-They're REALLY GOOD at reading other's body language, so sometimes they don't need to rely on their bioresonance to tell what others are thinking.

-They have inside jokes and memes that they share to each other via their hivemind.

-They walk very fast to catch up with other replikas

-In the same way that they easily influence other replikas, they can also get affected by strong emotions of those around them. So sometimes they hang out with Mynahs to emotionally recharge with their chill vibes.

Mynah

-Beo is the oldest/most experienced of the Mynah units, and the leader of the cadre at S-23.

-Their gestalt was a mother that worked as a coal miner in Rotfront.

-The circle in the middle of their visor is dark glass, and the red dots are lights

-They're very aware of their size and strength, which is what makes them to be extra careful and gentle with smaller units and gestalts

-They walk with short steps

-Due to their heavy frame, they're anatomically different to other replika. They don't get damaged easily, but they're trickier to repair. That's why once Elster found Beo in the mines, she couldn't repair her with the patches .

-Sometimes they name their plushies after their favorite replikas/gestalts

-the plushies are for filling the void left by their gestalts love for cats.

-it's not necessarily that they don't get affected by the circumstances surrounding them, it's just that they don't like to think on the bigger implications or they just don't internalize it (Aka "don't think too hard about it").

Ara

-They can see in the dark (in a similar way to cats).

-The tunnels they make are extremely narrow. Many replikas and gestalts have gotten stuck before, which is why it isn't recommended to retrieve them.

-Sometimes the do listen to other's conversations, but not necessarily out of bad intent as much as boredom/background noise as they do other activities (the equivalent of watching a YouTube essay as you eat).

-They're in the realistic/cynical side of things, tho they usually mean well. They're big shy introverts, but eventually they get adopted by the Eules into their social circles.

-They love Legos/scale models, and sometimes they like to design their own buildings.

Star

-Modded guns are the ultimate sign of a high ranking unit. They can get favors out of lower ranking unit by offering to lend them.

-They get kinda overprotective with those they care about

-They walk as is they were marching, but more casual

-They a high ranking unit gets decommissioned, their belongings get passed on according to their order on the hierarchy

Storch

-They're the first ones to wake up so they have all the baths for them. They love the feeling of running water.

-They use lots of mythology analogies when talking. Almost nobody else gets it.

-In a modern setting, they would be the ones to consume media inspired by mythology, only to nitpick on every single detail that isn't accurate.

-They always walk like they're in a hurry/angrily on their way to beat someone (very fast, really big steps)

-They have a naturally loud voice and a resting bitch face, which makes them more intimidating even when they're just chilling.

Adler

-He always looks serious, and takes himself very seriously.

-He knows that big part of the facility dislikes him, but as long as they comply to orders he doesn't really mind.

-His favorite types of fetish objects are puzzles/things that carry a mystery to them, or stationary.

-He writes a lot, for everything and nothing.

-The only reason you should have two Adlers working together is if a facility is really big, and keep them as separate as possible. Otherwise you have these two replikas passively getting at each other's throats.

-The attachment Adlers have with Falkes doesn't necessarily have to be romantic. They could also the sibling, friend or mentor figures (the emotional dependency is still there tho, and relies a lot on her attention and approval).

-In that same sense, they get attached to one particular Falke, so if a Falke needs to get decommissioned, so does her Adler because if not, the man grieves and shit starts going down.

Falke

- At first sight she seems like a regular polite unit, but she carries a menacing/lowkey eldritch aura. Whatever Makima and Tomie have going on, but not necessarily evil.

-She is great with words, and has good leadership skills.

-Her halo and arrows are made out of pure light.

-She knows everything that goes down on the facility, but turns a blind eye unless things starts to cause trouble or get on the way of productivity.

-She uses her bioresonance for mundane activities, both for pure convenience and as a flex/display of dominance.

-Since they're bioresonant prototypes, they get persona degradation very easily, but since their triggers aren't really known, they're really good at hiding it/whipping the memories of those that realize it.

-I like to think that her gestalt (the daughter of the Great Revolutionary) didn't really have a say regarding her situation, as much as being the main propaganda piece for the Eusan Nation. As such, while being a good leader, she gets anxious because it's not only those directly under her command who get affected if the makes a mistake, but the image of the Nation as a whole. However she's good at not showing weakness, at that trait gets inherited to Falke units as well.

[nebbyy]

A list of my most unpopular ASOIAF opinions and theories

Please remember this is all based on the books alone, and there also might be SPOILERS for Fire and Blood and the Game of Thrones book series.

ALSO I might open the requests for Game of Thrones fics and headcanons, and maybe for Baldur's Gate as well once I get back into it.

Okayyy so here we gooo.

1. Maegor's story doesn't add up

Don't get me wrong, he must've obviously been a horrible king and a shitty husband, but reading the chapters that talk about him in Blood and Fire, it all just felt like a list of rumours and versions of all nefarious crimes he would've committed. There are about five versions of whatever he did with each wife of his, each of them more depraved than the one before.

Again, I don't think he was an angel or anything, but my theory is that his history was written by biased sources. His reign was made illicit by Jaehaerys, so it would've been in his best interest to have him remembered as nothing more than a viscious monster.

It's a form of "damnatio memoriae" that we've already seen, in a way, with Mushroom and the Dance of Dragons. When in a conflict, and especially after a victory, each side wants to depict the side they beat as badly as possible Caesar did a similar thing in "De Bello Gallico", the book about his conquest of the modern French and Swiss territories. In this book he excuses his conquest with the supposed preparations for an attack by the Helvetians, a fact that was proven to be misinterpreted as it was a mere pacific migration. And again, he did the same thing when he accused them of cannibalising each other while being under siege, another untrue fact made up to just make them seem worse.

So in a way, Maegor's reputation could've been made worse by following historians to legitimate Jaehaerys' reign over Aerea's claim.

2. Incest has no effects on Valyrians

Okay, this is a bit weirder. My theory is that Valyrians practised incest because it had no effect on their offspring.

Looking at the Targaryen family tree, I noticed that the cases of madness increase the more Targaryens marry with other houses. Baelor the Blessed was the first mad Targaryen, and he had a grandmother of house Harte and a great grandmother who was half Arryn.

Before Baelor, Helaena is questionably considered mad as well, which would prove my theory furthermore had it not been for the amount of trauma she endured in her life so I'm honestly not gonna count her as "mad". Rhaegel Rargaryen was the second confirmed mad Targaryen, with a Martell mother; his daughter Aelora is questionably considered mad too, and her mother is an Arryn.

Aerion Brightflame was another mad Targaryen, with a half Martell father and a Dayne mother. The last two mad Targaryens were Aerys II and Viserys III, but at this point, the bloodline was mixed with others enough to make the Targaryen madness an unpredictable factor.

So I think we could theorise that Valyrians can perform incest so long as it remains within pure Valyrian blood.

3. There is no good or bad in the Dance of Dragons

Rhaenyra had a claim on the throne because of Viserys' will, but Aegon had a claim on the throne because of the laws of Westeros themselves. You can argue that Alicent wasn't the nicest stepmother, yet you can't look me in the face and tell me a woman in the middle ages married to a KING to whom she had given THREE SONS wouldn't complain when the king dismisses all of them and their claims in favor of his firstborn daughter.

Otto may have manipulated Alicent, but that was just how a Lord was supposed to act in that situation: have her marry the best candidate (the king), have her birth at least a son (she did) and make sure those children are first in line for the throne (as it should be, by the laws).

Viserys shouldn't have remarried if he already had his heir, period.

At the same time, Rhaenyra had every reason to fight for her claim and try and go against the actual laws of Westeros, but it was inevitable that many would've seen badly her attempt at claiming what was Aegon's birthright.

Lucerys was an asshole for mutilating Aemond and never showed remorse, quite the opposite. Aemond was an asshole who shouldn't have had all the power he had, plus I hardly believe his and Alys relationship was really consensual so there's that..

In the end, they all had their rights and wrongs, but that doesn't matter at all. The only point about the Dance is the fact that a pointless conflict led to the downfall of one of the strongest families in Westeros history.

4. Rhaegar didn't love Lyanna

I hate the series for making them marry. Like, seriously, have D&D ever read the books? Have they not read what happened between Maegor and the Faith when he took another wife??

Never, not even in the most twisted of universes, would the faith let Rhaegar kidnap and marry a Stark girl while he was still married to Elia. That just wouldn't be plausible.

And I also don't think he'd just fall in love at first sight with a random girl at a tournament. She was a beautiful soul and had many qualities, but she had nothing that could truly make a man throw away his whole life to pursue her.

He needed another child. The dragon has three heads. He had Rhaenys and Aegon, but Visenya was missing (I just made up the name for the third possible child considering he was naming them after the three conquerors lmao). He needed Lyanna to have that third child, and he knew how to get her to get what he wanted.

Perhaps we'll find out this isn't true. Perhaps Rhaegar really was head over heels for Lyanna, but I honestly really really doubt it.

5. There is no certainty on who the Prince that was Promised is

No matter what the show wants us to see, we still don't know who it is. It could be Daenerys, it could be Jon, it could even be Stannis and we're not gonna know it until Martin reveals it.

I honestly think Daenerys is Azor Ahai, but I'm still curious to see why we would need to revive Jon then. And considering Stannis' sword possibly being Azor Ahai's sword, is it a fake one made by Melisandre to get what she wanted from him, or does he actually possess the original sword?

Well, these are the first theories and opinions I could think of right now, I might post more in the future. Again, please don't slander me in the comments, these are just my personal opinions and I respect all others.

[junotter]

what i think is the reason I'm Just Ken is a good/as popular as it is is because the way it somehow explores both what its like to be a woman and man just through ken.

like the line "I'm just Ken. Anywhere else I'd be a ten." just feels very hitting as a woman in a social media world, especially if you've seen the truerateme subreddits and the ways they judge women.

and of course the fragility and inability to find meaning/self worth outside of a romantic relationship due to the strict boxes placed on men and male relationships (and even friendships between men and women).

theres more and i know im getting annoying with the barbie posts but i did really like the movie, regardless of how "bland" its feminism is. also just all the chronically online feminists complaining about how basic it is, like oh should we tell everyone? Should we throw a party? should we invite andrea dworkin.

like is it perfect? no. does it lack in intersectionality and have poc characters act as the support to white characters? yes. should ken probably of apologized? yeah. but many things can be true about one movie.

[nebulouscoffee]

Me, attending the latest in a ridiculous number of funerals this year in the place of a childhood friend who couldn't be there, watching the lifeless body of an old lady who used to make me snacks in the kitchen when I was a kid be carted away forever while my friend's mother cries and tells me she's grateful I could be there because it felt like having the support of her own daughter, hugging her and talking reassuringly and not processing a single one of these emotions: ... I am going to write soooo much fanfiction about this

[lizbethborden]

Oh man. Thinking so much about one of the people I worked for at the hellhole. She would get wound up and go off at me in a completely vicious way. I am not really a person who yells or gets angry in those situations, my goal is always to deescalate, so I would yes her to death rather than respond meaningfully--and the one time I did try to push back on her on something she was pissed about, she overrode me repeatedly and started accusing me of "defending" the person she was mad at (I wasn't, I agreed with her criticism, I just was a decent human being with empathy for others' situations). What I really should have done was either yelled back or walked away, but I always defaulted to yes'ing her, especially because she would wait until we were in my small, enclosed office to do it and I would have no way of getting away from her. I found out that she HATED that I would always go "Okay" and "I understand," because I would just do it and do it until she stopped, and she said it "makes people feel criticized." If you don't want to feel criticized, don't behave that way...? Between her and the owners, I got yelled at more in like 10 months of working than I did in 3 years at Starbucks.

[madesofgold]

Don't you wanna live far away from your family and their expectations sometimes and just start a new life?

[technicolorxsn]

hm.

[writers-potion]

Writing Female Fighters

The Heroine Must. Fight.

Today's female protagonists cannot sit on the side crying and breaking down or whimpering as the battle ensues.

Readers want to see autonomous female fighters who can at least defense themselves with courage and adequate skill.

Not all women are the same, but the heroine should get her butt moving.

Less Muscle, but More Flexibilty

The average woman is shorter than the average man, which makes it more difficult to wield a long sword or slam something down on the opponent's head.

A woman who works out can plausibly be stronger than a male couch potato, but if her male counterpart works out as much as her, the man is going to be much stronger.

On the other hand, the center of gravity in a woman's body is lower than a man's which makes it harder to knock her off her feet.

She is also more flexible, which gives her advantage in grappling fights, making use of complex landscapes, or deflecting blows.

A woman's small size can also be an advantage if her opponent has only ever trained with male opponents. His big hands might not get a good grip on her slender limbs.

In historical fiction, giving your heroine good muscule build can be tricky as exercise was generally considered harmful for women, with some exceptions for horseriding any maybe archery at best.

In such cases, make your heroine an accomplished dancer or an eager horsewoman, or the only girl whose father considered to be son replacement and thus, gave her a boy's education.

Women of lower classes who couldn't afford to be fashionably weak will be plausibly stronger, perhaps even more than an idle gentleman.

More Room for Negotiation, but Prolonged Ruthlessness

In the Suspense part of your fight scene, females are more likely to negotiate and talk more, strategically trying to descalate the situation rather than attacking on a momentary impulse.

Generally, women are less aggressive than men and remain level-headed longer than her male counterparts, opting for non-violent methods first before using force.

Exceptions apply if she is trying to protect her children (or someone who she cares for as a child). Mothers can be tigresses.

A female pre-fight conversation may be: "If you had not done so-and-so and betrayed me with so-and-so, we could have been good friends as I thought we would be." "What do you mean? It was in fact you who brought bad blood between us. I can still hear you laughing with so-and-so, taunting me, purposefully making me look bad -" "But that was so long ago! If you want me to say sorry about something so insignificant, you should have just said so: I'm sorry. There. Satisfied?" "Ha! I can't believe you say that so easily. You still don't get it, do you?" "Who's being petty and unreasonable now?"

A male pre-fight conversation will be shorter: "Who's the coward now?" "You're wrong." "Prove it." "Bastard."

Compared to men, it will take more time for a woman's fight hormones (adrenaline, neurotransmitters and such) to kick in.

She would be slower to engage initially, throwing reluctant punches and thinking, but she'll grow more and more violent and lose all rational thought and compassion, and once she's in full flow, may not stop even when her opponent begs for mercy.

When writing a male-female duo, you can show him going for the first blow while she observes and strategizes first. When he's past his peak and panting, she is flying about left and right. Later when the tension wears off and she becomes wobbly and teary, she can rely on him to have recovered faster and distract other teammates so that they won't see her cry.

Plausible Skills and Backstory

In many cultures and time periods, the general attitude of society towards girls is that they have no place in fist fights or martial arts, unlike how it is encouraged for boys of the same age. So if your heroine has physical prowess that surpasses typical 'fitness' or is hidden, build a backstory of how she's obtained it.

For modern heroines, it can be as simple as signing her up for martial arts classes or yearly membership at the local gym. For historical fiction or girls with strict 'feminine' upbringing, it can be trickier.

It can be related to profession: maybe she was an erotic wrestler, catfighter, or an assasin who thought killing was more honorable than prostitution. They may have dabbles with it for a short time and is now trying to hide their past from their respectable employer or fiance.

It can be family backstory: Perhaps her mother was an accomplished martial artist or she had to fend for younger siblings on the streets from an early age. Maybe she was the only girl in a family of many boys who refused to be the punching bag.

Inexperienced Female Fighters

A woman with no fighting experience or training is likely to resort to one of these on instinct:

Try to talk herself out of the situation, attempting to persuade or negotiate for her life.

Grab something to use as a weapon. This instinct seems to be stronger for women than it is in men.

Use her hands to try and break free, or kick (often wth little success)

Pull hair

Scratch.

In a serious fight, pulling hair and scratching won't be helpful, except when the police come to find her body, they would find the opponent's DNA under her fingernails.

Plausible Weapons and Clothing

All of the above applies to scenes where both parties have no weapons, or has the bare minimum (like one dagger each).

Weapons are equalizers, and if your heroine is pointing a gun at her opponent she will definitely NOT hesitate to be the one to shoot first.

When giving your female character a weapon, choose one she can plausibly use. It would take an unusually brawny woman to wield a great medieval longsword.

For historical fiction, give your heroine something she'll plausibly own. Swords and firearm were a no-go for women, but archery was borderline acceptable.

For clothing starters, you definitely CAN NOT dress her in a tight miniskirt and chainmail bra with long, flowy hair and multiple silver chockers. Unless she's trying to seduce her way into her opponent's bedroom, and he has a chainmail bra fetish.

A practical heroine will have her thighs covered, preferably with leather but at least with fabric, since a lot of blood flows through the thighs and a slash would be critical.

She'll keep her hair tied, tucked under a helmet, braided back, etc. so that it won't impede her vision.

She'll support her breasts with a strong sport bra. In a historical eprioid, she'll either tie her breasts tight with a fabric bandage or support them with some kind of leather corset.

Invent a female version of male fighter clothing of the time you are writing about if it doesn't exist.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[tender-rosiey]

What would happen if gojo has 2 babies? And they both start crying at the same time and poor gojo has to find a solution in this situation 🥲 his younger baby that is only months old starts crying which makes the older sibling that's 2 years older wake up and starts crying 😭

little voice — gojo satoru x f!reader

you’re on a girls’ vacation. it’s okay. it’s cool.

but it isn’t.

throughout his entire life of fighting curses, emotional trauma, technique training, and unending migraines, he has never felt so much stress like he does right now.

his two kids are truly angels: full of kindness, compassion and—as expected of a child of gojo satoru—full of mischief.

they also share the same amount of love he has for you and, of course, even more. so separate two kids who adore their mother and you get chaos.

satoru just found out that the one who keeps the balance in the house is you, and thinking back about it, it should’ve been obvious because everyone in this house listens to you.

for example, one time when you were out on a simple visit to nanami to take some of the sweet bread he has, you had strictly told satoru to put the two kids to sleep at 8:30 exactly.

he thought it’s too early, but then you explained to him that s/n sleeping gave him time and freedom to look after your baby daughter who was, admittedly, a handful that would not sleep unless she was carried.

so satoru obediently listened, or at least he tried to.

a shameful failed trial at that.

in his defense, what was he supposed to do when s/n gave him puppy eyes asked for a mere 10 minutes more, say no? of course not!

so, like the great father he is, he gave him a couple more minutes, and nothing will make satoru regret his decision since to him his son’s smile is worth the world.

…except maybe the chandelier that is now on the floor and his precious baby daughter who just took one the biggest poops he has known of and his son who is panicking about how to clean this mess before you come home.

and come home you did and to all this mess.

swiftly, you picked up your daughter and changed her diaper, even making her giggle and squeal in between.

then you hugged your son and cleaned up the shattered glass together and disposed of the chandelier. lastly, you stood in front of your husband with a big frown after you’ve put the kids to sleep.

satoru could swear that he couldn’t fall more in love with you. hell, he could even twirl you around and kiss you breathless, but he feels like that would just lead him to the couch.

so he works to butter you up first before trying anything, “hey my sweet cute honeypie—“

you simply quirk an eyebrow.

and he falls to his knees, “I am sorry! I just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes! you should’ve seen them; he looked so cute!”

“I saw them a million times before he was even born, ‘toru.”

your husband gasps, “how!?”

“our son is an exact copy of you, sweetie.”

so yeah that was one of too many times, and if it isn’t apparent that you are the mediator then satoru wants to let the world know that even his students listen to you.

like that one time at school when the first years were caught up fighting with each other, the second years were trying to pull them apart, and satoru was too busy cackling at them while holding d/n that no one noticed panda’s little tail being—god knows why—on fire, not even panda himself.

that was until your precious son tugged at your husband’s shirt and pointed at panda, saying a simple sentence (phrase), “papa, panda fire.”

satoru’s eyes zero on panda then they widen, before he gapes, “oh shit, you’re right!”

“bad word!”

“sorry!”

however, despite satoru almost bolting to put out the fire, panda was finally able to smell it and hummed, “something’s being cooked.” then he looked at his tail, “oh it’s me.”

hit the panic button.

“I am being cooked!” he screams and starts running around, “panda meat doesn’t taste good; I promise!”

the rest start running after him with the intention to help, but panda could only translate it into one thing as he screamed, “don’t eat me!!”

“no one is gonna eat you, dumbass!!” maki yelled but to no avail as no one could get to the panicked panda.

your husband is running as well, half taking photos and videos and half ensuring that d/n does not fall from his hands—considering how she keeps giggling, squealing, and wriggling her entire body.

ijichi took matters into his own hands and called the only person he knows will be able to solve this.

“hello?”

“panda is on fire, the kids are running after him, and gojo is just recording!” he wails, eyes frantically following said people then straying to a particularly small person, “also s/n is trying to eat the grass.”

“what?!”

and like lightning, you’re on the field. you lightly scold s/n and tell him to cover his ears.

you turn to the walking fire hazard and scream, “everyone stop! and panda get over here!”

“yes ma’am!”

he stands still in front of you, almost ignoring his ‘fiery’ tail. you effectively put it out and ruffle his fur until he calms down. the others take turns in greeting you and getting their daily dose of motherly hugs.

your son sprints to you and holds onto your leg, refusing to let go.

and they all make way for the star of the show: the all-mighty gojo satoru.

he beams, “wifey, yet again you save the day!”

he easily picks up s/n and pulls the four of you into one big hug. he rubs his cheek against yours, “have I told you how much I love you?”

“I was gone for 3 minutes.”

“I haven’t?!” he gasps, completely ignoring you, “I am a terrible husband!”

he sobs and starts slowly melting to the ground where he believes a ‘disrespectful, good-for-nothing husband who doesn’t tell his wife just how much he loves her’.

anyway, back to the present. the kids have been miraculously put to sleep—a process that satoru does not have the time nor the energy to describe.

when he stops ‘reminiscing ‘, he starts paling at the fact that all of these were mere examples of things going wrong without you, and you were in the freaking area.

now, you’re not 10 steps away, and satoru is feeling very threatened.

he is sprawled out on the couch, eye bags ever so prominent. he sighs and lets his head fall back, grateful for the silence that fills the house, but he hates it at the same time.

satoru was never fond of silence—the type that feels so heavy on the heart—even when he was a teenager. it gives space and time to think about all the things he is desperate to avoid.

he did eventually come to love silence but only the silence that accompanies the times he spends with you, but that’s a story for another time though.

opening his eyes, he looks around and his gaze lands on your recent family photo. his smile is almost instantaneous.

if there’s anything he will rub in suguru’s face when they meet is that he managed to score himself such a lovely wife and an adoring family, a real family. he mentally writes a plus one on the score chart between him and suguru then relaxes.

he would like to scurry to the bed where your scent still lingers, but his fatigue has simply chained him to the couch—he is overreacting you’re only gone for three days.

so, he decides, it’s time to rest and hope for a dream where he gets to hold you and live with his longing until he can feel your lips against his skin again.

the great gojo satoru closes his eyes and welcomes his slumber.

that is until, his little sweetheart decides to breakout into a wail, effectively causing her dad’s eyes to snap open.

he jumps to his feet and sprints to her room, “d/n, what’s wrong, honey?”

he softly cradles her in his—gigantic—arms and starts rocking her slowly. “it’s okay; papa’s here,” he murmurs in hopes of calming down, but his daughter doesn’t register his voice yet.

she can, however, feel his all too familiar chest against her cheek, so she grips at it tightly and continues crying.

satoru’s expression is full of distress, and his heart contracts painfully at how his daughter’s cries. then it’s almost like the entire world is against him right now because he also starts to hear small little sniffles from the door of the room.

your husband looks back to find his son dragging his teddy bear with him in one hand and in another, trying to wipe his tears as much as possible.

your husband quickly shifts d/n into one arm and leads s/n into him with the other. your son nuzzles into his dad’s chest and murmurs, “I want mama.”

almost like she understands the mention of you, she calms down a tiny bit and her hands start reaching for the air—reaching for you.

satoru slides down to the ground and pulls them both into his chest, and he starts rubbing s/n’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head and sighs, “me too, s/n, but, hey, we are strong and capable, so we have to hold on until she comes home, right?”

a little sniffle escapes s/n as he nods before saying a soft, “yeah.”

satoru smiles and ruffles his hair, “that’s my champ.”

s/n lets out a little smile and snuggles into his dad’s embrace.

so satoru shifts his attention to the sniffling baby in his arm, he frowns, “now what are we going to do with you, little missy?”

your son purses his lips for a moment, before placing the teddy bear in his hands into his little sister’s tiny arms. curiosity takes over for a moment, and she starts exploring the new item.

then s/n presses on the teddy bear’s chest and it plays a little voice message from you:

“hey sweetie! mama loves you, so don’t worry about those nightmares! I am always here.”

your daughter’s eyes shine and she hugs the teddy as much as possible and utters a small, “ma!”

satoru blinks owlishly then looks at s/n with smile, “so you had that all along?”

s/n nods slowly and holds into his father tighter, obviously getting tired and getting ready to sleep. satoru would love to say the same about his other angel but—oh she fell asleep.

looks like all it took was a little listen to your voice.

he will probably make you record a thousand voice messages when you come back and make you get him his own special build-a-bear as well cause what the hell? what about your husband?

he shakes the thought away, realizing that he can finally fall asleep, albeit on the floor.

with no blanket.

no pillow.

not even his favorite cushion.

but he wasn’t raised to be ungrateful, so he will take what he can get. he will simply make up for lost sleep when you’re back. it will feel better that way in any case.

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[blossomingmoonlight]

⭑ The prince of pleasure ⭑

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Niece!reader

Summary: You and your uncle always had fun growing up and when you see each other years later, he knows just where to take your for some real fun.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ mdni, family feud, Aegon being a bad influence, making out, grinding/dry humping, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, titty sucking.

A/N: Inspired by Rhaenyra's and Daemon's adventures, and parts of dinner scene in episode 8 S1. Can you tell I miss season one :(?

Word count: 4.6k

Your heart almost came up in your throat as you descended the stairs behind your family. After the petition and the announcement of your brother's bethrotals, the king wished to spend supper with his entire family, finally reunited. This was, of course, doomed from the start. The strained and tense relationships had never really washed away. There had always been a weird dynamic between your two uncle’s and you and your brothers. But one thing was for sure, you all kind of ganged up on Aemond. He was just easy to pick on. This created a sort of mischievous and friendly dynamic between you and Aegon. You both hadn’t seen each other since the whole ‘incident’ on Driftmark. Eager to see him but also anxious were the only words you could use to describe the weird feeling in your abdomen. 

Both of you had grown into your own person, you had finally gone through puberty, curved hips, filled out breasts, sharper and more defined features. And even your silver hair had grown longer, but tonight it was braided in the style of your house. As well as being styled in a beautiful red and black dress. And as you finally arrived, before the king it seemed, you saw him there. He turned around in his chair, his mouth slightly agape as he took you in. His hands seemed bigger, his shoulders broader, circles under his eyes and his lips stained red from wine. A habit he hadn’t grown out of by the looks of him. You took a deep breath at the sight of him, pressing any affectionate feelings deep down. 

He quickly turned back in his seat as you and your family took yours. Of course, your brother had to leave one chair between him and Aegon as his betrothed sat on his right side. Are you fucking kidding me, why couldn’t he have just been mature and took the seat. To avoid suspicion you tried to set your thoughts aside and hurriedly took your seat, already earning a confused look from your mother. Luckily for you there wasn’t any time for conversation as the arrival of the king was announced and you had to stand up again. When he was seated at the table as well, he started off with a speech that quickly got drowned out by your own thoughts. Somehow you couldn’t shake the feeling of him staring. But why would he?

However, your intuition was right because just as you glanced to the side, you already caught him staring. That bastard only made things harder. You could feel his glances on you the entirety of your grandsire’s speech. It made you want to be sucked up by the floor, never to be seen again. But why couldn’t you help yourself from glancing once every while either? All those thoughts were put to a stop when the king sat down again. Your family started a seemingly peaceful conversation with one another. But then, the inevitable... Aegon leaned to his right, where you were seated, and got a bit closer to your ear. The stench of wine and his musk, which was way more enticing than you wanted to admit, filling your nose.

“It’s been a long time hasn’t it, dear niece?” Fuck- His voice had matured too, not as nasal and annoying as it once was. But deep and smooth, cold and hot at the same time. But he had more of a mischievous tone to it, which instantly made goosebumps ripple over your skin. “Yes it has. Still a strong taste for wine I see.” You mused. Keeping a light but inviting tone yourself. “Oh- and she has become more brazen as well.” He grinned, still keeping close to you. You knew he was planning on fucking up this whole dinner tonight, but maybe you were looking forward to that. The annoying voice of Otto Hightower already making you lose your patience. “As well?” You gave him a questioning look, finally acknowledging him. 

“Must I really say it?” He was clearly drunk with the way he observed your tits in the corseted dress. You must admit, you did pick one of your more revealing gowns tonight. Either by accident or on purpose, Aegon cared not. He was just glad you seemed to give him a view to enjoy tonight. “Yes, you must. What do you mean by that?” Clearly you had no idea what he insinuated and oh did that make this all more perfect for Aegon. “Fine. You have matured. Grown into your body, I suppose.” Lowering his voice and choosing more careful words. He didn’t want this dinner to be over yet. “Oh- I- uhm, thank you uncle. That is kind of you to say. You have matured as well. Less...skinny.” That earned you a grin, one you had missed more than you thought. 

Your brothers were always fun to be around but as they got older they started to become more serious. Something that hadn’t caught up with you yet. Jace cared more about his studies and Luke about training with the sword, and Joffrey was too young to have any real fun with. But Aegon hadn't changed as much it seemed, and it made you happy. Knowing that during your stay, you could maybe find some good company in him. Maybe even make it like the old days and pester Aemond a bit, although he had matured too and become more intimidating, so you decided against that part. That was especially proven when the king parted for the night and a pig was brought in, and set right in front of Aemond. Giving one glance to your brothers, you three couldn’t help but let out a snigger. To which Aemond rose from his seat, slamming his hands on the table in a fit of rage, one he hadn’t felt since the old days.

“Final tribute.” He began as he raised his cup to which Aegon mirrored him. You gave your brothers a knowing look. This could only go one way. “To the health of my nephews.” There we go. “Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong.” Alicent gave Aemond a warning but he didn’t give a single fuck, too blinded by hurt and embarrassment. “Come, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.” You didn’t think he would really go there as Aegon was usually the one to ruin events but Aemond always had a taste for the dramatics. “I dare you say that again.” Jace spoke up, he was always sensitive about the rumours and accusations. Saying you could never understand with your Valyrian features. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” 

Aemond really had to take it further. Jace at this point had stood up and stalked towards Aemond in a fury. Aaand dinner ruined. Jace landed the first punch, then all hell broke loose. Luke stood up as well wanting to help his brother defend their honour. But Aegon stopped him slamming him on the table. Making you stand up and push Aegon off him. Your mother and Alicent were all yelling at this point, guards were stepping in and you were all pulled off each other. “Why would you say such a thing in front of all these people?” Alicent scowled. “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother. Although my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs!” Aemond raised his voice, really making sure your brothers heard it. Jace broke free, ready to launch himself at Aemond again but Daemon stopped him. “Go to your quarters, all of you go, now.” Your mother put an end to it. 

At least supper went as expected, however you knew you needed to clear your mind and cool off before going to bed so you sneaked out to the gardens. However while you were out, a knock landed on your door. Aegon stood there with a bag and a note. He didn’t expect you to disobey your mother and leave but that only confirmed he could make it up to you tonight. His way. He slid inside your chambers and left the bag accompanied by the note on your table, and sneaked away. This was the real test, he thought. To see if you were still the daring, brazen and reckless girl of all those years ago. 

When you returned to your chambers one of the guards let you know who stopped by. And that he left something in your chambers. Curious as to what Aegon could have possibly brought you, you hurriedly stepped inside and closed the door. There it was, the bag on the table and the note of course. Opening it with haste, your face fell into a frown, old dirty commoners clothes? What the fuck kind of gift was that? But your gaze fell on the note beside. You grabbed it and revealed the messy handwriting inside. “Meet me at the back entrance if you want a real fun experience tonight. -The Drunken Fool.” The smile on your face was uncontrollable as you discarded your regal gown and stepped into the musty clothes of the bag, pulling your hair into a bun to tuck underneath the hat that Aegon left in there as well. With one look in the mirror to make sure you didn’t leave any white strands out you left your chambers during the guards shift change, with there always being about two minutes between their shuffle. Something you remembered quite well from your childhood. 

Giggles and laughs almost escaped you every time you managed to evade guards and servants. At last you found your way outside, no one there recognizing you as you tried to make your way to Aegon. Passing a few people you met his gaze as he stood by the back entrance, a couple of feet away from you, wearing his usual attire and accompanied by two men. You smiled at him and started to walk over to him, when you all of a sudden felt a hand grip your upper arm pulling you back. A gold cloak stopped you. Panic seeped in your skin as you were terrified of being caught. “Girl. What is your business here?” His hoarse voice broke the giddy haze you were in. “Let her go immediately.” You almost didn’t notice Aegon coming to the rescue until he was already at your side. “My prince. I apologise, I didn’t know she was with you.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. 

“I have never been called ‘girl’ before.” You chuckled. “Keep your voice down, no one can know you’re here.” Aegon shushed you. Dragging you with him through the city. The two men following you. “What about them?” You asked as you nodded behind you. “They don’t know who you are, told them you were a whore I picked out to take for the night.” He grinned, still accompanying you through Flea Bottom, the streets of which you recognised. “A? Whore?” You asked confused. Oh no. Aegon thought. Did you really know nothing about sex? Pleasure? He was about to take the night a lot further than he initially planned. He wanted to take you out drinking, to get a break from his boring family and have some fun with the only person who didn’t judge him. But you still being innocent in that regard made him swell in his pants. He was going to show you a lot more fun than you thought. 

“How about I explain when we get to the place huh?” Aegon bit his lip in anticipation, he walked past the tavern where he originally planned to take you and continued walking- to the streets of silk. There was one particular pleasure house where he could have his privacy with you. As you both reached the door of the place, moans could already faintly be heard outside and Aegon noticed your face grow confused. You made this so much harder for him. He ordered the guards to wait outside and took your hand once more to lead you inside. When you entered your jaw almost crashed through the floor at the sight. People everywhere, naked as the day they were born. At least most of them, the others barely wearing anything. They were all over each other, men on women, men on men and even women on women. All screaming, moaning, whining and groaning in pleasure. You looked around, mouth agape as Aegon looked only at you. 

Your reaction was better than he could’ve ever dreamed about. “A whore is someone who gets paid to pleasure a man, or woman. That all happens here. In a pleasure house, you see, pleasure is the greatest thing the gods have ever given us. Besides wine. Marriage is a duty, but fucking is a pleasure.” He whispered in your ear. You almost moaned at his words. A tingly and heated feeling spreading through your body. Aegon squeezed your hand and led you through the people, their eyes occasionally landing on Aegon. He probably came here often? As a serving girl recognised him, she gestured for him to follow her. Taking you both to the back of the building, curtains were revealed. Aegon told the girl to piss off, opened the curtains and revealed a decently sized room, a large round bed inside. Which was decorated with pillows and blankets. Hundreds of candles were lit on the incavings of the walls in the room. 

Aegon closed the curtains and led you on the bed, removing the muffy hat you were wearing. “Do you... come here a lot?” You asked, a slight tremble in your voice. You still didn’t fully grasp the concept of what was exactly happening here, but you were beginning to understand. “I do, and before you go back to Dragon Stone. I’ll show you what real pleasure and fun can be.” He murmured, leaning in a bit closer. He now stroked your cheek. Your lips parted and you could feel the slick and ache between your thighs. The feeling of it becoming uncomfortable, you pressed your legs together, kneeled on the bed before Aegon, who was eyeing you hungrily, the action not going unnoticed. “Does it hurt, little niece?” He asked, lust and impatience filling his body. He knew you didn’t know you craved his touch, but he knew. All too well in fact. You could only nod, a small whimper leaving your lips.

Aegon felt dizzy, his cock was now fully hard. He was probably in more pain than you. He never felt this horny, this pent up. He could feel the precum sticking to the inside of his breeches. “Let me show you, teach you. Real pleasure.” You could only whimper in response. “Kiss me.” You let out a breath and kissed him on the cheek. “No darling, on my lips. It will feel better, I promise.” You obeyed and kissed him softly on his lips. A spark igniting in you at the touch. Aegon felt it too, as he pressed his lips more firm against you. His hands pulling you closer but his desire for you was far from satiated. He deepened the kiss and forced your lips open, prodding his tongue inside. You still awkwardly kissed back and he pulled back a moment. “Try to move your tongue against mine love.” His voice came out hoarse and raspy. You tried to do as you were told, kissing him once more, you moved your tongue against his, getting saliva on both of your lips. Aegon sucked on your tongue and moved his hands in your hair. 

You could feel the vibration of his groans on your lips, on your tongue. You felt yourself pulsate between your legs and pressed your thighs together once more. Aegon didn’t slow the kiss as he now licked your teeth and nibbled on your bottom lip as well. Then he moved back, sitting against the headboard as he moved you on top of him. Sitting on his lap, you started to mimic his tongue movements, licking his teeth as well and sucking on his tongue. Then he moved his hands lower, towards your ass. Only then it really hit you what was happening. You ripped your lips away from his. “Aegon- what- wait we can’t do this.” Aegon was afraid you would realise. This is what the septa’s meant when they would tell you you couldn’t dishonour yourself. 

“Shh, don’t you worry about that. I promise it will be fine. Don’t you want to get rid of that ache? Don’t you want to feel good?” He panted, still lust filled. Desire clouded your mind and judgement and before you could think about it more, Aegon pulled you further on his lap. Right on something hard, hitting that aching spot between your thighs just right. You let out a moan at the feeling. How could you stop now? The pain and ache would become overbearing and besides, Aegon did this all the time. And he was just being so nice showing you how good you could feel. Aegon moaned in response. Did that make him feel just as good as it felt for you? Wanting to chase that feeling, you grinded your hips yourself this time. 

“Fuck- yes just like that. This feels just as good for me as it does for you.” You shuddered at his words. “What is that-” You whined. He grabbed your hand that was resting on his shoulder and moved it between his legs, letting your hand grip his bulge. “That, is my cock. And it feels so fucking good when you touch it. And when I touch you between your legs,” He paused, moving his own hand between your legs, letting his thumb graze your clothed clit. “right over your cunt, it will feel amazing for you.” You gasped at the feeling and his words, never did you feel you so excited, good and hot at the same time. And the urge for more only grew. “So I beg of you, don’t stop. For the good of both of us.” Aegon pleaded, moving his hand back to your ass and helping you grind on him this time.

You could only chant ‘yes’ in response accompanied by moans and whines. Aegon, not being quiet himself, let out his filthies moans and groans. Pulling your head down a bit, he kissed you again. Using his other hand to keep you steady while you humped each other like animals in heat. His covered cock hitting your clit just right every time, and the slick covering your cunt making it easier to grind against each other. Your breath caught in your throat as you pulled away from Aegon, never stopping your hips that grinded on him. “Aegon, some- something is happening- I don’t- please, more- more!” You mumbled incoherently as you felt an intense amount of pleasure building up, your entire body about to burst. “Fuck- good girl. You’re about to cum. You gonna cum for me little princess? You gonna cum for your uncle?” His vulgar words sent you over the edge as you felt waves of fire cursing through your body. One long moan left your lips as your grip on Aegon’s shoulders tightened, pressing yourself as hard as you could against his erection. 

Aegon let out a groan at the sight of you, mouth agape, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, a light sweat covering you. What a divine sight before him. It was worth every restraint of staying sober before your outing. Just so he could remember every detail. When you had calmed down, your eyes locked, you shared a breathy chuckle. “This is only the beginning.” Your eyes widened at his words. Aegon moved his hands to your tunic and started to pull it off, you decided to do the same. Removing his tunic as well. His skin exposed, his abs and toned arms out for only you to see. He could only focus on your hardened nipples, the soft flesh looking beautiful under the candlelight. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to and immediately dove in on your breasts. Suckling and licking your nipples, your hands moving to his neck. You needed to hold on to him, otherwise you were sure you would lose it. 

As he held you, nipple in mouth, he moved you on your back. His hips now back to rutting against you, but it still wasn’t enough. “Need more, more of you princess.” He huffed. He removed himself from you and pulled the old pants you were wearing down, immediately revealing your slick cunt. “Fuck- it’s almost as if you did this on purpose.” He grinned, fully ripping the pants off, with a wet stain at the crotch, to throw it to the side. You didn’t however, you just didn’t have access to men’s breeches and womens smallclothes wouldn’t do in pants. His thumb circled your clit and Aegon looked at you through hooded eyes, small pants leaving his lips. How could he ever go back to regular boring whores when he had a Valyrian princess to devour? He decided he no longer had time for patience and removed his own pants, removing his breeches as well in the process.

You leaned on your elbows, curious to see what his cock looked like bare. Aegon let you stare, he loved the effect he was having on you, the first to be having this effect on you. His cock stood proud, curved, veiny, leaking and red from arousal. Balls filled with seed, eager to be emptied and white pubic hair trailing from his navel to his pelvis. You licked your lips at the sight, an urge filled Aegon as he took the base of his cock and trailed the head between your folds. A low grunt escaped him and you let out a whine at the feeling. Finding your tight hole, he let spit dribble from his lips on his cock, although he doubted he needed it, he didn’t want to hurt you.

Holding the base still, he guided the head to your entrance and with a bit of resistance he managed to get the tip inside, a moan filling the room as he felt your tight hole suck him in. The primal urge to fill you, pound into you until you were stuffed with his seed overtook him but he had to take it slow. “Such a good girl aren’t you? But so disobedient at the same time, taking your uncle’s cock in a pleasure house, in the middle of the night.” He groaned at his own words. Only the idea of it already made him hard. Never could he have fantasised about the real pleasure. He pushed further into you when he felt you relax, you whimpered but didn’t feel too much pain. Checking in on you he now fully sheathed himself inside, hitting your cervix. 

You moaned and gripped the sheets beneath you, your legs wrapping around his waist. A sign for him to start fucking you. Aegon kissed your neck and started to slowly rut into you. “Yeah, feel good? You’re making me feel so fucking good love- your tight cunt wrapped around me. Taking me so well, my own little whore.” He grunted as he fucked into you harder. The sounds of sweaty skin smacking against each other and both of your sounds of pleasure filling the room. “More please- uncle- please!” You begged, you finally knew what he was talking about, what he craved- why he goes here. “You want more? How about you get on your stomach? Ass in the air little princess.” His voice sounded demanding and depraved. He pulled out so you could move, you both hissed at the loss of contact. Being in position he wasted no time pushing his sensitive cock back inside you. 

Pounding into you again he grabbed the flesh of your ass helping you move into him as well. “Fuck- You’re perfect- So fucking perfect. Don’t think I can let you leave after this. Gonna need you every night-” He felt his balls tighten, a sign of his release approaching soon, he wanted to chase it, fill you up real good but he also didn’t want to stop yet, for reality to come back. “Doing so good for your uncle darling- so good-” He spoke the words pound for pound making your moans louder and louder. “Yes! All for you Aegon- only for you! Just want your cock please-” You barely even knew what you were saying, all you knew was that he was right, you could never go back to normal after this. His thrusts became more staggered and harsher, giving a couple more before pulling out and letting ropes of his cum painting your ass, long and whiny moans leaving his lips at the sight. You whimpered at the feeling of his warm sticky cum hitting your skin. Taking a deep breath he fell beside you and pulled you close, ignoring the blood on the sheets. 

“I don’t think I can stop myself from taking you again.” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. “I don’t want you to stop yourself, I’m already tainted now, what does it matter anymore.” You both laid in each other's arms for some time before Aegon decided to kiss you again. Letting his tongue trace your lips, before entering your mouth. You both made out for a bit before Aegon felt his cock stir again. The power you held over him was dangerous. He removed his lips from yours and laid you on your back again, before kissing down your stomach. “Aegon, what are you doing?” You asked hazily. “Kissing you somewhere else.” When he reached your folds he kissed them softly before kitten licking your clit, making you jerk your body at the feeling. You were still sensitive from the grinding and his warm, wet tongue felt way too good. 

“Oh- do that again, please- harder.” Aegon grinned at your reaction, feeling his chest swell with pride at how he was already making you beg again. He did as you asked and started lapping feverishly at your folds. Occasionally prodding his tongue inside you. His hands held you in place by your tits while your own found his silver locks tugging at the roots. He groaned against your cunt and sucked on your clit. Your feet tensed up at the feeling, and your hands tugged his head closer, basically grinding on his face. Aegon wanted nothing more than to have you cum once more, all over his face. As he lapped and sucked your release came closer, Aegon would devour you every night if he could. He flicked his tongue faster as your moans grew louder and curses fell from your lips. With one shattering moan you fell apart, moaning Aegon’s name as your vision went black and fire cursed through you once more. When you calmed, Aegon gave your cunt one last kiss before laying beside you again. 

“I want to do that to you.” You huffed, a smile on your face as the post orgasm still flowed through you. “Another day if we can, darling.” You frowned at that. “Sadly we must get back soon, before we raise any alarms.” You sat up, the reality of it all hitting you. Yet you felt no regret. “This was- unforgettable, Aegon.” You smiled, looking back at him as he still laid on the bed. “That it was.” He agreed. How could corruption feel so good?

[sunderwight]

Thinking about Black Widow Luo Binghe.

Hear me out -- so just like in canon, Shen Qingqiu self-destructs to save Luo Binghe, dies, and Luo Binghe steals his body to put on ice while he looks for methods to resurrect him. But unlike in canon, staving off decomposition is simply not that doable for a matter of years, even with cultivation and Luo Binghe pouring qi into the process. The qi costs are still high, so is Xin Mo, and now Binghe also needs a special artifact that can actually preserve Shen Qingqiu, but that runs on blood sacrifices.

To get the thing working, Luo Binghe feeds it a bunch of prisoners from the Water Prison. Then he starts kidnapping cultivators to drain for his own qi reserves, but that's difficult, controversial, and he can't use the same victims for the blood sacrifice afterwards. Frankly, between one thing and another it would be easier to satisfy Xin Mo with dual cultivation, and focus on finding victims for Shizun's Snow White style glass preservation coffin without having to choose between using targets for one or the other. Especially given that, if he finesses it, Luo Binghe can extend the use of his sacrifices and get more out of them with fewer deaths that way.

He's pretty sure that Shizun would want fewer deaths.

Of course, he is not a fan of the logistics of the plan itself, but he'd do worse things to one day be reunited. He consoles himself that he's building up bedroom experience for one day being with Shen Qingqiu, and that it doesn't really count because his heart's not really in it, and also if Shizun got to spend all that time in brothels then it's only fitting that Luo Binghe be his equal in this as well. It still doesn't make it pleasant for him, but it makes him able to tolerate the necessity of it.

So Luo Binghe ends up marrying a string of rich and powerful figures -- mostly the villainous single fathers and mothers and evil uncles of harem members from PIDW, rather than their daughters -- and coming up with creative ways of making all their deaths a few months into the process look like accidents. After the third one people are undeniably wary of marrying him, but there's always someone with a big enough ego to think they'll be an exception, or stupid enough to believe that it really has just been so much bad luck up to that point. It helps that the universe is predisposed to let him hit it.

When SY wakes up in the shroom body and hears about Luo Binghe's succession of marriages, he's not surprised. What he is surprised by is the bisexual graveyard of toxic dilfs and milfs that has replaced the harem.

What did he do to cause that?!

And what does Luo Binghe mean that he wants to marry his own shizun now? Is this his new method of revenge??? Binghe, you don't have to marry someone to kill them!

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 2. Rules

Masterlist

Summary: Simon lays the ground rules and shows you around the house.

Warnings: Simon's email etiquette, very mild cursing, beginnings of obsessive behavior.

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

Next ->

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae

[monzabee]

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he���s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.