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dantakeyoman · 1 year

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Neteyam Has Something Important To Tell You As You Patch Him Up (SFW)

Reader is Fem! Omaticaya

CW: fluff, Neteyam is smooth asf, little bit of blood, Neteyam is a simp, Mo’at is an awesome wing-woman, Utral Aymokriyä is where Jake and Neytiri mated

“Be sure that mushroom is ground well, (y/n). We will need it when the hunting party return,” Mo’at instructed, implying the bioluminescent fungi that sat next to you.

You nodded firmly, placing the plant into something that was the earthly equivalent of a mortar and pestle, and promptly starting your work.

You loved your job as a healer, and took it very seriously. Even more so since, recently, Mo’at has been giving you lessons in perfecting your craft.

The right way to turn your wrist when grinding ingredients, how one’s blood can tell their origins, better methods to connect with Eywa.

Because of her, you have become 10x the better healer than you were before, and you were beyond thankful.

Throughout your childhood, you had dreamed of becoming a healer and helping your people. But once you met a certain Sully, who was next in line for Olo’eyktan, that dream slightly warped throughout the years.

Of course you still wanted to heal your people, there was no doubt about that. But instead of being a healer, you wanted to be the healer.

His healer.

“Not too much, (y/n). You don’t want the paste to be too thin,” Mo’at calmly reminded, keeping her eyes on her own grinding.

You snapped yourself out of it, slightly embarrassed that you let yourself become so lost in thought.

“Sorry,” you apologized, quickly putting the bowl down.

“Is there something on your mind, child?” she asked, a slight smirk on her face.

Just by your flustered face, she could tell what you were thinking about.

Or rather, who.

She wasn’t blind to how you looked at Neteyam, or how Neteyam looked at you. She had known about your feelings for each other since you were children.

And since her grandson was fast approaching the age where he would become Olo’eyktan, she figured refining your healing abilities would improve your candidacy for Tsahik.

Not like anyone else held a candle to you in Neteyam’s eyes anyway.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I am just-.” You suddenly remembered why you had busied yourself with medicine-making in the first place.

“Nervous for the hunting party,” you told a hafl-truth, sighing as you picked up the next mushroom, dropping it in the bowl.

Jake was letting Neteyam lead the hunting party for the first time.

And to say you were nervous was an understatement.

“He will be fine. His father taught him well. And he has a fine healer waiting for him at home,” she knowingly smiled, pouring this small satchel of powder into her bowl.

You blushed, focusing back to your bowl at the woman’s implications.

Surely you hadn’t made it that obvious.

And by the grace of Eywa, the familiar scent of the man you love ( he had completed Iknimaya a while ago ) filled the healing room.

“Grandmother! (y/n)! You must come and see what we have brought back. You will never believe it’s size!” Neteyam exclaimed as he quickly opened the tent flaps, his voice beaming with happiness

You quietly laughed to yourself at his excited manner, feeling foolish for ever being worried in the first place.

You giddily turned around, only to be met with his proud, bloody-faced smile.

“Neteyam!” you worriedly gasped, frantically getting up an rushing over to him.

He had large scratches on his cheek, and one big slash on his chest, all of which left large stains of blood on his skin.

You quickly, and carefully, held his face in your hands, ignoring his insisting that he was fine as you turned it to see if there was any more damage.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt?”

Neteyam smiled to himself, stupidly, relishing in the feeling of your soft hands on his face.

He could feel himself heating up just by your closeness. And by this distance, he could see every beautiful feature on your face perfectly.

“Why are you smiling? This is serious! Please, sit down,” you ordered, taking your hands from his face and grabbing his forearm, walking him in the middle of the room and sitting him down.

Mo’at smiled, carefully placing her bowl on the floor and standing up. “I shall give you two a moment.”

And with that, she walked out the room, but not without shooting you a wink before closing the flaps.

You sighed, grabbing the bowl she put down and sitting in front of Neteyam.

“It does not hurt as bad as you think. Truly,” he smiled, your fussing over him making something stir inside his stomach.

“Well pain or not, I must put this on your wounds so they may heal properly,” you dismissed, scooping up a small glob of paste with your two fingers.

When you looked back up at him, you realized that you were too far away. In order for this medicine to work, it must be rubbed in well.

Neteyam looked at you, confused, as you took a deep breath, quickly sitting yourself in his lap, practically straddling him.

His breath hitched.

He had never had his crush sit on top of him before. Hell, you had never even been this close to him before.

Every part of him that was touching you was now heating up by the second, so much so that he’d thought he’d burn.

But looking at your face, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world, like you had done this a million times before.

“I’m sorry, but I have to rub this in correctly,” you apologized, beginning to massage the paste into the cuts on his face.

“I have no complaints,” he smiled, resting his hands on your waist so you wouldn’t fall off.

When you got to a particularly large cut, he winced, the paste making the wound sting.

You smirked, giving him a soft flick on the forehead. “I know the future Olo’eyktan is not taken down by a little medicine.”

He smirked off the pain, looking you right in the eyes. “Never.”

You chuckled, moving on to next cut, when the mention of the position reminded you of your thoughts earlier.

But your thoughts soon turned for the worse.

“You are going to become Olo’eyktan soon. How do you feel?” you asked emptily, placing your two paste covered fingers on his chest.

He was concerned with your sudden mood change, but also loved the way your fingers felt on his skin, sending another stir to his stomach.

“It is exciting. And scary at the same time. I have so much to live up to,” he truthfully answered, looking down at himself.

You scooped some more paste on your fingers, giving him a quick glance.

“Well, you are not alone. You will have a Tsahik,” you sadly smiled, halting your massages on his wound.

You did not want to cry in front of him, but the tears were beginning to well.

“We have many that will surely be a good fit. Eyati is a strong hunter. And beautiful, too.”

It all clicked for Neteyam.

That was why you looked so sad. You believed he was going to chose someone else as his mate ( like he would ever ).

Amused, he laughed, slightly offended that you would ever think that anyone could take your place in his heart.

“What is so funny?” you asked softly, looking at him sad eyes, quite hurt that he was laughing.

He smiled, cupping your cheek in his hand.

“You talk of me mating with another woman as you sit in my lap, massaging my chest. My love, that is funny.”

My love?

His thumb caressed your cheek as he pulled you in closer, resting his forehead on yours.

“(y/n), I see no one better fit than you to be my Tsahik. You may not be a strong hunter, but you are a strong healer. And more beautiful than any woman I have ever seen. Eyati may be a good fit, but you are the one I wish to mate with, not her,” Neteyam spoke sincerely, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.

You were flustered to say the least.

You’d never thought you’d hear those words coming out of his mouth. And boy, did it sound amazing when they did.

“(y/n)...I see you,” he finished, smiling as you cupped his cheek, placing his hand on top of yours.

“I see you, Neteyam,” you smiled back, a few happy tears managing to slide down your cheeks.

That was all he needed before he roughly kissed you, pulling you in by the nape of your neck.

You kissed just as roughly, moving your hands down to his chest as he tilted his head, getting better angle on you.

He wrapped his tail around your thigh, you doing same, trying to keep each other as close together as possible.

But sooner or later, you had to breath.

The both of you separated, panting with smiles on your face as you rested on each other’s forehead again.

“Forget dinner. I want to take you to Utral Aymokriyä right now,” Neteyam seductively growled, wrapping you in his arms and standing up, twirling you around the room.

“Neteyam! You still have to heal!” you blushed, resting your hands on his chest as you buried your face in his shoulder in embarrassment.

#avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #atwow x reader #atwow #omitacaya

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orteil42 · 4 months

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some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god

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lovewitchtarot · 9 days

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general tarot reading

this is a very random reading there's no rhyme or reason to it its just what came up for me when I pulled cards for all the piles some of it is love and relationships and some of it is work and school

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading; take what resonates, leave what doesn't. Never use tarot readings for medical or legal advice, and for the sake of legality, don't act on anything that could potentially hurt you or others because of a tarot reading. Don't take this reading or any others too seriously. Remember, this is for the collective, not just one person.

Pile one

Don't be afraid to embrace who you are; do what makes you happy without fear of what other people may think or say. Engage in hobbies and things that really make you happy. Now would be a good time to explore your shadow self as well, do shadow work, and dig deep into who you are as a person. Self-acceptance is really important for you. Now would be a good time to channel your creativity into a new hobby or project. Try new things with the thought of progress and self-exploration instead of fear of failure. Try to be more fact-based, although it can be hard to get out of your head. Remember to think logically and take other people's thoughts and feelings into perspective before you act or make a decision. Don't think so quickly; take time to understand before you do things. Be kind to yourself; don't let life knock you down. Even when times get tough, remember to be kind to your heart and your soul. Nourish yourself with self-care and self-love. If you are having a hard time in love, remember the saying “don't chase butterflies; instead, build a beautiful garden and wait for the butterflies to come to you. If the butterflies don't come, then you still have a beautiful garden.” Self-love and self-improvement are so important. Even if you aren't going through anything tough, remember to love yourself and treat yourself with kindness. It is time to take a journey that could be school- or work-based, but you are ready for a big change—a positive one. Be prepared to receive a spiritual gift. This gift is going to be vast and incredible. You are going to gain great success and wisdom, or you may already have it, but with this success and wisdom, you are going to become a great leader. You are about to come into a very memorable and incredible time in your life. I'm seeing a new school, maybe college, or a new job. This is the time of your life to make memories and just “go for it." . I'm hearing “you only live once” to describe this energy. You also need to accept the past; you need to learn to trust again; and you need to let go of this stagnant energy. Also, remember that it's okay to make mistakes; it's how we learn, so don't hold onto your past mistakes. Don't forget to balance your professional life and your personal life; keep them separate and balanced. Don't forget to use your intuition. Don't be afraid to live your truth as yourself and wear it with pride. I see a counterpart coming into your life; this could be a friend or a spouse. This person could already be in your life, but this is a divine counterpart. You two are harmonious together, and you have or will have a beautiful relationship, whether it is platonic or romantic.

Pile two

You are a very talented person. You may not have found your talent, but once you do, you can expect to be able to make a career from it. The career you end up pursuing will be very fun for you, and you'll love work. If you are currently working and you don't feel this way, then don't expect this to be your permanent job. There is about to be a choice or decision that sets a lot of change into motion. This is a positive change that you will greatly benefit from. Again, this could be a new job throughout this change. Be flexible and go with what life brings, as it's inevitable to fight. Don't be afraid to direct it, though you still have control in many aspects. I see you standing up, maybe for your beliefs or rights. I see you fighting for what's right. I see you stepping into your spirituality; you are a naturally spiritual persona, and I see you learning to channel it into your practices. You may just be starting out on your spiritual journey, or you may have been on it for a while, and you're just now getting ready to level up. Remember to balance spirituality with your everyday life. Stay grounded and don't live in your third-eye energy so much. Remember to stay spiritually protected and cleansed; physically cleansing your space is a great way to invite positive energy in and expel negative energy from your life. If you're going through a slump, try to clean your space both physically and spiritually. Also, indulge in self-care, replenish your soul, and see how things positively change around you. It's time to step into your healing energy and take time to heal from the inside out. Eat more warm foods, as comfort is really being prioritized right now, but don't only feed your body; also feed your soul. Someone is currently thinking of you as a friend, but I see more of a love interest, and I see that this particular relationship is about to level up significantly. Don't neglect your friendships with your partner. Remember that all of your relationships, romantic and platonic, are equally important, so make time for friends and family as well. Be on the lookout for manifestations, as they are about to appear in front of you. This could be a manifestation that has been long in progress, so be prepared for that. There are going to be temptations in your path, but stay focused and patient, as the right outcome for you will soon appear and you will be triumphant. You are really stepping into your spirituality, and it is going to do great things for you. I'm seeing a romantic partner coming, though. Try to pamper yourself, even if you find it hard; it is extremely important.

pile three

You are going to be traveling soon and setting out on new adventures. You are going to have a completely fresh start as well. This could mean that you are moving or just going on a trip. I see you studying abroad as well. Cycles are going to come to an end. This could also mean graduating either from school or a work position (moving up in the company or to an entirely new job). You will be making a new romantic connection or strengthening an old one. This person is very romantic and sensual. This relationship is going to be or is absolutely wonderful and fulfilling. However, don't overly push things; they will happen when the time comes, and make sure each person is putting in equal amounts of effort and contributing their share. Overcome any fears you may have, as they are holding you back from your full potential. Trust your intuition when it comes to finding out the truth about situations and other people. Don't be afraid to dig deep into things to learn the full truth about them. Keep up your spirits if things go wrong. Don't turn to unhealthy coping mechanisms; ground yourself and try yoga or meditation. You are soon to be recognized for your hard work; this could also include receiving a reward. Remain faithful and loyal to your friends and other relationships, as it is very important. If you need support and encouragement, don't be afraid to seek it out, but also don't be scared to give it in return, as it is the best gift to give someone. Make sure to stay protected both spiritually and physically, but mainly physically. If you end up traveling, be sure to be safe on your adventures. Now would be a good time to dive into your creative side and try different types of art, as I can see you really benefiting from it. Mass abundance is coming your way. This could be physical things or it could be more sentimental things, such as friends or memories. Don't be scared to speak up for what's right. I can see you stepping into a motherly energy that can apply to anyone, whether you want kids or not. You can be motherly to your plants or animals, even just your friends and family.

#tarot witch #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #divination #collective reading #pick a pile #pick a card #witchcore #witch #witches #witchcraft

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idyllic-affections · 8 months

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achilles heel.

summary. the ninth harbinger takes on an... unexpected responsibility.

trigger & content warnings. references to poverty, [name] is a thief (at first), slightly ooc pantalone in some parts.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort. pantalone & child/young teen!reader, arlecchino & child/young teen!reader. 3.4k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this fic is divided into six drabble-like sections.

author's thoughts. inspired by a silly conversation @aroacenezha and i had. i dad-ify this man a little too much but you know what? i will keep doing it idc he's so dad-able. this post is structured differently than my usual content but i think it's kind of cool!!!

i. an unexpected guest ♡

Of all the possible unexpected things that could await the Regrator in his Snezhnaya residence—one of them, at least; the amount of properties he owned was certainly more than what one could count on both hands—this was... most definitely among one of the more shocking.

He was speechless, really.

"Please do humor me. How did you manage to get in?"

Of all the unexpected things that could await the Regrator in his his home, in his office of all places... thievery in and of itself wasn't unexpected; rather, it was the fact that standing in front of him was undoubtedly a child no older than fourteen. Not only that, but additionally the fact that they were actually standing in his office. They had not been caught. A child, no older than fourteen, possessed more skill than all of the others in the past who had made poor attempts to steal from him.

"You need better security"—they shrugged, making him somewhat annoyed at their nonchalance—"I really thought it would be hard to rob the richest man on Teyvat. It was harder to rob Lady Ningguang. I actually had to abandon that job, you know? Couldn't get to the Jade Chamber."

Again, he was left absolutely speechless.

Being compared to Ningguang made a bitter taste settle in his mouth. He made a mental note to drastically improve the quality of his security.

"You..."

"What? It's not my fault all of your agents are incompetent."

They weren't wrong, he supposed. His agents surely could do better at their jobs. Their smugness still irritated him, though. "Do you routinely rob the wealthy?"

They scoffed. "You all are hoarding wealth that should never have been yours in the first place. Archons forbid I steal from wicked people who couldn't possibly care less about anyone but themselves... Get over yourself. Seriously."

He genuinely couldn't tell if they had no sense of danger or if they simply had that sheer amount of audacity by nature. Though, admittedly, he did have to respect the fact that they managed to sneak in completely undetected. If not for his sudden appearance, they most likely would have gotten away with it. Their audacity did irk him a little, but... that was also something he had to respect. It was impressive in its own right. No average Snezhnayan child would so much as dream of talking to a Harbinger the way they did oh-so effortlessly

It did occur to him, however, that they did not look well-off; they were not the average Snezhnayan child.

Their hair looked as if it had been haphazardly and unevenly chopped off so that it was too short to become tangled (he did recall doing such a thing himself—at the lowest point in his life, taking care of his hair was a useless endeavor, solely because it did not help better his chances of survival). They were clothed decently enough in layers adequately thick to keep themselves from freezing which, indeed, was also something he understood on a nauseously personal level.

Most of the mora he managed to earn in his unfortunate youth was invested in... not freezing to death. Through them, he was forced to once again acknowledge his past, a past he endeavored to forget about because it made him feel pathetic.

...Or maybe it made him feel like an impostor in his wealth?

What kind of sick twist of fate had the Archons cursed him with, forcing him to think about such trivial things?

He should punish them. He should arrest them. He should send them off to Dottore and never spare them another thought ever again, even, but... somehow, he didn't want to. Much as he may have acted as if he couldn't possibly know why, he did.

The brat reminded him sickeningly of himself.

"Where do you think you're going?"

They were half out of his window when he called out to them, having taken advantage of his pondering.

"To sell what I've taken?"

He almost rolled his eyes. Almost, but didn't. That would have been immature and inelegant of him. "Come here."

They would have just left, but truthfully, it would not have been a smart move on their behalf. The only reason they had not yet been caught and apprehended was simply because no-one had spotted them in the first place. Not a single one of their 'victims' had managed to catch a glimpse of them. Now that a Harbinger had seen them...

They figured it was in their best interests to avoid being pursued by anyone with that much power, especially by someone like Pantalone. A man with that much political influence was dangerous.

"Show me what it is that you've taken."

They did.

A letter opener, a few picture frames... Nothing significant or extremely expensive (though, to them, anything at all from his office would likely be of high value), which is what left Pantalone completely perplexed. He honestly hadn't even noticed that anything was missing from his office when he had first entered.

Perhaps that was what made them so skilled, combined with their capacity to avoid being seen.

"Out of everything you could have taken," he mused, "you chose... these inconsequential items?"

"They're inconsequential to you, maybe. To me and to my buyers, things like this are worth a ton. Whether I'll actually be given what is owed is... uh. More or less likely. I don't know, I just— can I leave yet?"

"Not so fast, dear." He smiled, tilting his head slightly. They thought he somewhat resembled a fox.

"...What? Are you seriously going to arrest me for something so little?"

"Nothing of the sort. In fact... I have a proposal of sorts for you."

ii. the proposal in question. ♡

"You know, when someone says something ominous like 'I have a proposal for you'," they began, twirling a defiant strand of their now neat hair—which the Harbinger had... shockingly, taken upon himself to cut properly rather than paying someone else to do it—around their finger, "they generally don't mean... all this."

"Don't be difficult." He pinched their cheek like a scolding (or affectionate, but the nature of his gesture was debatable, given the fact that he tended to hide his thoughts behind a skilled mask of eerie calmness that they could only imagine took years to perfect) grandparent might. "Let the tailor take your measurements."

"Ugh... fine. I don't even see why I'm doing this," they murmured, gingerly raising their arms when the tailor politely prompted them to.

"Oh? Did I not say? My apologies. I intend for you to become a permanent resident of my household."

Silence.

"...So you're adopting me."

"That is one way to look at it, yes."

"Oh. I was... um." They paused, blinking a few times as if in an attempt to dispel the bewilderment they felt. "I was kidding. I didn't expect that response."

He only smiled.

They wondered if they would ever learn to understand that ambiguous smile.

iii. another unexpected guest ♡

Between teaching the newest member of his house noble etiquette, conversational skills, and other important skills they would need to master, Pantalone had grown unexpectedly fond of the little orphan he took in.

He should have been annoyed by how often they questioned his authority, by how unruly they were...

Of course, he wasn't. It was endearing and even refreshing in its own way—when was the last time anyone had dared to speak so freely and honestly and daringly to him? The respect rooted in fear that his status as a Harbinger gave him became dull after a while.

It really shouldn't have surprised him that he had become so fond of the little one who did not fear speaking in the most unfiltered way to him.

However... he did wonder if his fondness was causing him to spoil them just a little too much.

"...What is that?"

They grinned brightly. In their arms, a small arctic fox sat contentedly, strangely unbothered by the fact that a random child decided to pick it up and bring it home. It seemed to snuggle further into them and their warmth, in fact.

"It's an arctic fox!"

"My dear, that is a wild animal."

"And?"

Silence. Pantalone was the first to break it:

"I have the ability to acquire any animal you so desire of only the highest pedigree," he began, "the best available on the market—of course, assuming it could survive in an extreme climate such as this one—and yet, you chose to bring home a little street fox?"

They pouted, lower lip jutting out in an exceedingly childish way that he would have chided them for had it not just been himself, them, and the various Fatui guards stationed around (who all knew far better than to say anything about whatever they saw or heard within their Lord's residence) present. "Don't be mean. I came from the street too, you know... look at her! Look at this little creature! Say hi."

If it had been anyone else demanding such childish things of him, he would be appalled... but he supposed since it was them, he could tolerate it. He leaned down slightly.

"Hello."

Much to his apparent surprise, the fox barked back at him, to which they giggled.

"Soo, can I keep her?"

The silence returned for a brief second. Then, the Harbinger sighed deeply—it was undoubtedly comparable to the kind of sigh an exasperated parent might let out. As if he wasn't already going grey enough without this child around...

He caved to their whims regardless.

He was encouraging a bad habit, yes, but they looked so happy with that little fox. He could only hope that, in the future, they would not bring home any other wild animals.

"Very well, but I expect you to learn how to take care of her properly, otherwise I will be forced to let her go."

iv. old habits die hard.

The first event they ever had to attend with the Regrator was an annual event hosted by the Tsaritsa herself.

Much as they weren't exactly... keen on going, Pantalone insisted—he had claimed it was for publicity's sake. The public would favor him more if he was seen as the caretaker of a child. They supposed they couldn't really argue with that, but the thought of being used as a device to build public rapport was uncomfortable at best and nauseating at worst.

(He was very adamant on reassuring them that he didn't take them in solely for such a shallow reason. Though... he still did not tell them why exactly it was that he chose to take them in, which admittedly did make them doubt the sincerity of his words.

They decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, given how kind he tended to be with them.)

They absolutely hated being surrounded by so many pompous rich people who only ever turned a blind eye to the struggling of every low-income family in Snezhnaya. How these people could live with themselves, hoarding the majority of the wealth of an entire nation, they would never know nor understand.

(What made Pantalone any different, they sometimes wondered?)

However...

They were all viable targets, even including the other Harbingers present.

Columbina... there was nothing they could steal off of her without getting caught, and the idea of making a scene, especially one involving the third Harbinger herself, made their stomach churn anxiously. She was not an option.

Dottore... stealing off of him was unwise. They wondered if Pantalone would lose favor in them if they did. The Doctor, like the Damselette, was not an option, despite the many things they could take off his person without him ever knowing that something was missing (probably; they weren't truly sure if they'd like to test that theory).

Arlecchino... her silver hairclip was awfully pretty. Surely she wouldn't miss it? She didn't like the Regrator much anyways, so—

"Dear."

"Oh. Um." They cleared their throat, embarrassedly looking anywhere but at him. They tried their best not to pick at the threads of their sleeves. "Sorry. Force of habit."

He hummed, gloved hand raising up to rub reassuring circles on their back. The bubbling anxiety and discomfort in their chest subsided slightly.

"Come along. There is nothing to be afraid of, and please... do not take anything off of anyone. Leave the Knave and the other Harbingers be."

Of course, upon passing Arlecchino, they did end up stealing her hairclip regardless.

Though annoyed, she said nothing of it, because even though their audacity to steal something from a Harbinger at an event such as that one agitated her beyond belief...

It seemed to make them happy, and she didn't see them take anything from anyone else the entire night. She decided that she would let it slide just this one time.

(She also took it upon herself to secure it in their hair—which had grown longer and healthier ever since the Ninth took them in—after the event, claiming that it was a gift from her...

...And that, if they knew what was good for them, they would not dare to pull another foolish stunt like that ever again.)

v. achilles heel.

"What is it that plagues your mind?"

"Huh?" They blinked, sitting up a little straighter in their place on one of the soft sofas in the Ninth's personal library. Most of their time was spent in there, absorbing all the knowledge that they didn't have access to earlier on in their life. "What do you mean?"

"You've been withdrawn lately," Pantalone said, approaching them slowly as if they were some kind of skittish animal. He tenderly caressed their cheek upon seeing no signs of discomfort. "Have I done something to drive you away?"

"...No," they admitted quietly, looking outside of the large window and watching the snow fall. It looked... peaceful, but they knew from experience what it was really like out there. They gnawed on their lower lip, searching for a way to word their concerns without sounding ungrateful. "I just... ugh, it's nothing. I don't know. I don't know how to say it without it sounding... bad."

He raised an eyebrow. His hand moved away from their face, now stroking their hair calmingly. "You speak to me so freely all the time. Why the sudden change of heart, hm?"

He did have a point there. They never once thought twice about the way they spoke to him up until that point.

A sigh left their lips, and they shifted their gaze to meet his.

The way their eyes glistened with the sheen of unshed, frustrated tears made Pantalone feel a sort of fatherly protectiveness that he wasn't sure he should have been able to feel, and yet... their expression flipped some kind of switch in him.

"Why did you take me in?"

"I—"

"Wait, I'm not done," they interrupted. He went quiet. "What benefit do I provide to you? What kind of rich guy sees a random orphaned thief and decides to take them in? Who does that? No rich person I've met before you, that's for sure. People like you don't care about those of us barely scraping by in poor conditions, so why—"

If it were anyone else Pantalone was speaking to, his tone would have been harsh and commanding, but... that was how it always had been with them. They could get away with things that others could not. They were always shown a side of him that others were not. Perhaps that made them the Regrator's one single Achilles heel, and if that were the case? So be it.

"Stop. Listen."

His tone came out very gently. It was more akin to a comforting hush than a demand. He kneeled down to their height—never once had they seen him voluntarily get so close to the ground. Most nobles didn't, and yet, here he was. With his ungloved knuckles, he wiped away the tears that they hadn't even noticed were beginning to fall.

"I was you once, little one."

"I don't believe you," they sniffled.

"You should. I was not born into this life. My bloodline is not noble and my birth name holds no significance," he mused, tucking a stray strand of hair behind their ear. "I also used to steal from people, you know."

Their hair fell over their shoulders, to which they quickly raised a hand to the back of their head. The clip—once belonging to Arlecchino—was gone, now settled in their caretaker's open palm.

"H— huh?!"

"Admittedly, I haven't done so in quite some time, so what you saw just then was moreso the skills I've learned as a Harbinger than my thievery skills."

He kindly secured their hair back once again.

"Ah... I never would have guessed."

"That is the point." He nodded, going on to tease: "You do very much remind me of the younger version of myself... you have quite the awful amount of attitude, though. I was never so difficult."

They huffed, patting their face dry with their palms, to which he chuckled.

"Hmph, I doubt that. I'll bet you were worse than I am."

"Whatever you say, dearest."

He was, but he had no plans of telling them that, of course.

vi. enrollment.

"My orphans seem to like you, [Name]."

They smiled up at Arlecchino from their place on the ground, one of the much younger children sleeping against their thigh. Their hand absently toyed with the child's hair in a manner that seemed akin to that of a loving older sibling. "I like to think they do. They're lucky, then, because I happen to quite like them, too!"

The ghost of a smile graced her lips at that.

"You know," she mused calmly, placing a firm hand on their head. They squeaked slightly at the force behind her display of affection. "You are publicly viewed as the Regrator's child."

"What?!" they gasped, a mix between shocked and embarrassed. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but... "Wait, people are saying that? Actually?"

"They are," she confirmed, "but I mention this for one very particular reason: do you know how to defend yourself, [Name]?"

"Somewhat, but not entirely," they admitted. "I learned a lot in my time... um, wandering, shall we call it..? Anyway. I can defend myself, but not really well. Not at all well enough for the place I've found myself in, I think."

She nodded in understanding at that.

"Have you considered enrolling in the House of Hearth?"

"I've thought about it. Would I even qualify, though..? I'm technically not an orphan..."

"No, but consider it a favor from me. You would get an education of equal rigor to Snezhnayan private schools, as well as learning how to protect yourself."

"...You would do that for me, Arle?"

Her cheeks tinted red at that, and she groaned, lightly pushing them away by the head. They giggled at her annoyance.

"Don't call me that"—she coughed into her fist, trying her best to mask the good-natured embarrassment such a nickname caused her—"but... I would. You need to learn how to handle yourself."

She then got on one knee, meeting their gaze with intensity that made them a bit nervous. Both her hands sat firmly on their shoulders.

"What you need to understand, however, is that you will automatically be drafted into the Fatui at your graduation. I do not believe that the Regrator would let you out of his sight at your young age, so you needn't worry about being separated from him, but... you will be exposed to wicked things."

"...But I need to do this for my safety, right?"

"You don't 'need' to do anything," she clarified. "I would advise it, though. You are an annoying little brat, but I—as well as the Ninth—would loathe to see anything happen to you."

"Well... I don't mind enrolling."

"Oh?"

"I really don't mind," they repeated, offering her a pensive smile. "I've already seen pretty rough things, and, I mean... I know what you all do for a living. I'm not oblivious, Arlecchino. Any kid born and raised in Snezhnaya would know."

"I didn't think so," she assured. "No, I never once believed you to be oblivious... that much, I agree with. Childhood innocence does not thrive in this nation."

"You're right. It doesn't."

A comfortable silence settled for a moment. Arlecchino's battle-hardened hands were a calming force upon their shoulders.

"...Soo, how exactly are we planning on convincing Pantalone to let this happen?"

"Ah." She went quiet. "...That is the question."

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot! taglist: @m1shapanda, @kaichuuu, @zeldadou, @aroacenezha (aka the beloved moot who inspired this fic. say "thank you maji" everyone 🫶🫶🫶🫶 /hj /lh)

#aphelion writes 🌸#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #pantalone x reader #arlecchino x reader #platonic fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers x reader

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astrumark · 11 months

Text

── GIVE ME THAT LITTLE BIT OF SATISFACTION ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: aemond needs your assistance after a battle, in more ways than one.

WARNINGS: blood, curse words, smut with plot, use of coconut oil as lube, hand-job, p in v, tits sucking, multiple orgasms, creampie, a hint of sub aemond? oops? :3

WC: 5.3K

NOTES: obviously this is my take on what happened after rook's rest. the show's approach next year will definitely be different. but it's fun working with the book's events and its lack of minor details (you can fill it in however you wish!).

Your eyes flutter open with a jump, a firm hand gripping your shoulder. You didn't remember when you had fallen asleep, or what hour it was, but certainly wasn't the time for your shift yet. It takes a few seconds for your cloudy vision to focus on where you were, now noticing the older servant in front of you, and you look at her dazedly.

"The prince has just arrived, and requests your presence," Annabel explains.

Aemond. Immediate relief washes over you as your face softens. "Very well."

You leave the servants' quarters as fast as you can after fixing your appearance, and as you walk through the halls, you notice the castle is way too agitated. Tension and seriousness ripple in the air, and you start to feel uneasy as well, mind fumbling with numberless possibilities.

It's one of the gold cloaks that finally speaks a little louder, talking fervently about the victory of the greens at the battle of Rook's Rest. It had been quite a few days since their army had marched, and news was often shared about their progression. Usually, you tend to avoid it, since most of it makes you feel sick in your stomach.

Besides the armored man, there is no more commemoration or sense of victory. Not on this side of the castle, at least. Lords were probably planning on throwing banquets, but people like you are too aware of the damages of the war, and how at the end of the day the smallfolk suffer the most. Countless common people would die in the name of greedy royalty that know no limits to their ambition, families ruined beyond repair, a ravaging hunger was plaguing the poorest, and the coffers would soon be emptied, money being spent on battles other than improving the realm and making life easier. It's obvious how no good could ever come regardless of the result of the war.

You find Annabel again, shouting order after order, the middle-aged woman was the one in charge of the servants for a good while now and was a reliable source of information.

"What happened?" You approach her.

"A lot happened, child." Her tone is somber.

"Did someone die?" What a foolish question. Not just someone, but hundreds.

"The queen who never was and her dragon."

You grimace, reminiscing about the princess back when she was visiting the Red Keep. Although such casualties are expected during the war, it is still difficult to grasp that the imposing woman is dead. It's fearful how one's life could be ripped from them so suddenly. A paralyzing concern floods you. Aemond being back does not mean he is unharmed.

"Has the prince been hurt?" Your voice falters, your heart pounding with fear.

Annabel's gaze flickers to your face, and you could see her disapproval, almost making you wish to recoil. But she would never say a thing about your unusual closeness with the prince, being unlike her to intrude in personal affairs. You are aware she doesn't like Aemond or any of the royals, but then again very few did. You have grown to understand it was not only because of his eye, or lack thereof, but because he simply did not inspire sympathy. Aemond is stoic, defensive, and difficult to relate to. You were only one of the very few lucky enough to know better.

"The prince is fine," Annabel says and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "However, it is said the king is in critical condition, it is not known if he will recover, and his dragon is unable to fly, one of his wings was damaged during the fight."

You gasp, in your slumber you have forgotten about the man, not being concerned about him in the slightest. Anyhow, you feel your mind almost melting as you process the shocking news and the aftermath of it. If the king were to perish, that means Aemond would be regent until his nephew is of ideal age. Seven. "Poor Sunfyre."

Annabel tries to scold you, but the amusement behind her blue eyes is hard to conceal. "You are pitying the dragon, not the king?"

"Well, people have the free will of choice, and are aware of the consequences their actions might have… a dragon can only obey their rider's command, isn't it right?"

"We cannot say. These magical creatures are beyond our comprehension."

You ponder. "That is true."

After the quick conversation, you make your way to one of the huge kitchens, assuming the prince would probably fancy a bath. Warming up buckets of water, you carry them to Maegor's Holdfast with the help of three other servants.

A strong smell of blood and smoke fills your nose as you enter his quarters, and your eyes widen. The expensive rug is stained and marked by large boots, and even more astounding is the prince's appearance.

Aemond is lounging on a chair close to his study table. His face and hair are covered by blood, ash, and dirt, and splatters of dried blood stains his black and gold armor. His braids are loose, and you can even notice some twigs tangled in his silver strands. However, the prince's hands are the most distressing, gloves discarded at some point and almost fully covered by the red liquid. With a frown, you deduce it must be from his brother's injury. He looks haunting, almighty, and ruthless. There's a scowl on his face, though his eyes seem perturbed.

You notice how the servants' hands seem to tremble slightly as they pour the water into the bathtub in the next room, their eyes never daring to look up while adding some essential oils and chamomile herbs to the water as well, however, you cannot share their fear. All you wish to do is reach out and comfort him. Leaving one of the buckets outside the bathroom, you can see from the corner of your eyes the one-eyed man dismissing the other servants with a wave of a hand, and they seem eager to oblige. You kneel in front of him.

"I am glad you are well," You squeeze his knees. "And tremendously sorry for your brother."

Aemond does not respond, and his gaze is piercing as he stares at you as if memorizing each detail of your face. You don't look away either, a comfortable but powerful silence pairing between the two of you. His fingers slowly graze your cheek, and you do not mind the blood, eyes closing with the delicate caress.

"Help me undress, will you?"

You nod, aware he was never one to talk in deep about his emotions and thoughts, to allow himself to be vulnerable. Nonetheless, you've been noticing this quietness getting worse ever since Storm's End, and although concerned, you would not push him. Especially because you weren't even aware of the extent of your relationship. That he has a certain tenderness for you is clear, but the amount of liberties you could take with the royal is not as much.

Carefully undoing his heavy armor, the pieces fall to the ground with a whump, and the clothes underneath are a lot easier to deal with. His defined body slowly comes into view, a few goosebumps arising on his bare skin with the sudden lack of materials. Aemond's nakedness is of no surprise to you, though you could never help but admire him. Grabbing a cloth you wet it in the bucket nearby and start to clean his face first, hoping to get rid of the thicker layers of dirt before starting the bath.

Your touch is light, afraid to harshly rub any scratches, big or small. "Are you hurt in any way?"

Aemond shakes his head. "None of the blood is mine," He says. "It's from the princess and my brother, and their dragons. I believe some from Lord Staunton and his garrison as well."

You shudder with discomfort and drift your attention to cleaning his hands, the cloth immediately being painted red, you discard it for another as you move to the other hand. You've always enjoyed tending to him.

His hair comes next, and you take off his eyepatch. Undoing the braids is quick, long accustomed to it, though his strands are now sticking and smelling terribly, like a pan that spent too much time on fire, simply nose scrunching and suffocating. Aemond moves his head side to side with a growl after you are done, the bones of his neck cracking.

The prince sighs pleasantly as he enters the tub, and you grab a bowl to wet his hair. The silver strands get soaped quickly as you massage his scalp with both hands, his good eye close, and the sapphire twinkles.

After washing it, you fetch another soap bar, one that the merchant guaranteed you was special, something about adding more oils while making it. There was no harm in trying, and you were surprised by how such a thing made his hair healthier, not as dry which means fewer cuts, and more tamed and lustrous. His strands instantly become more emollient as you run the soap along the length.

Aemond seems completely unbothered as you get to scrub his body, the fine hairs covering his arms and legs so light it's barely visible. It's, in fact, a moment of relaxation and customariness, a routine for both of you. But the water is already dirty and gray by now, and you cannot help but recall it's not only ashes and dirt but also the mixed blood of people and beasts alike. Some perished.

You do not notice the silver-haired staring at you until he speaks. "You do not seem very pleased."

You raise your eyebrows. "Is there something to be pleased about?"

"Is there not?" He squints his eye. "We have just won a battle."

"Congratulations."

"Your sincerity is appreciated." His voice is dripping with sarcasm. "You know you can speak freely with me." He studies your face.

You bite your lips, focusing on the task at hand and adding more soap to the scrubber. The prince would never understand your point, so you would rather avoid a useless discussion. Especially today.

Unfortunately, he doesn't give up, cocking his head. "What is restraining you from doing so? Are you disgusted? Would you prefer me to not have killed all those cunty traitors?" His voice is low, dangerous. "Would you prefer to have that whore sitting on the throne? Is that the reason for your unpleasantness? Do you believe she's more suitable than my brother? Than me?"

You look at him sternly, the scrubber falling to the water with a splash. His face is now a lot closer to yours, but he does not intimidate you, never did, and probably never will. But he hits a nerve, and your mouth moves even before you could notice you were speaking.

"I would prefer your family to resolve the succession issue in another way other than submitting the kingdom to a devastating war with horrendous consequences, for all of you certainly, as proved by your nephew's death and older brother's injury now, but mostly, innocent people that have nothing to do with your schemes." Your voice holds a cold rage. "That is my opinion if it's of any importance to you, but I highly doubt it."

Aemond scoffs, shaking his head and averting his eye for a minute. His finger rests on top of his mouth, and there's still blood underneath his nails. He inhales to control his annoyance. He looks like he's going to say something, but then changes his mind, closing his lips and opting for another choice of words.

"You would not understand it, as a commoner." He looks at you up and down, not with the usual desire, but with a hint of superiority now, clear in how the corner of his lips twitches upward dismissively.

You are quick to respond. "Nor would you, as a prince."

Deafening silence. You have a good point, the drastic difference in your backgrounds would never let you completely understand one another's views and priorities. Aemond sighs.

"You are lucky I am fond of you." A truce.

You chuckle. "And I do not dislike you entirely."

The prince smiles, tight-lipped, but it is lovely, showing off his beautiful dimples. The rest of the bath goes calmly as you resume the chore. You wrap his hair in a cotton towel, and his body in a linen one. You leave the prince to dry himself while you make your way to the bedchamber, gathering loose mud green trousers and some shea butter.

The one-eyed stands in his full glory as you spread the product all over his lean body. Back, arms, chest, and stomach, then his legs. When you get up from your kneeling position, his hand wraps around your neck swiftly, bringing your body forward and kissing you.

You return it immediately, deep and eager. However, it's also contemplative and cozy, almost lazy as you taste one another. Your hand rests on his forearm, the softness and warmth of his lips never failing to get you weak on the knees, and he smells great now, fresh. Your eyes seem unable to open as you get lost in the small kisses and teases.

"Do not resent me, beauty." He says as you part.

You smile against his mouth, you thought it was precious when he got like this, clingy in his way. It was only on these rare occasions that he let his pride and loftiness aside, and would do everything to prevent you from being upset with him. Seeking your comfort in such an intense manner it was flattering.

A verbal answer doesn't leave your lips, you just kiss him again, and it's enough. "Get dressed and sit down." You motion to the dressing table, throwing the trousers at him.

You comb his hair delicately, adding some sunflower oil to his scalp before braiding his damp hair, he prefers it this way, claiming it was the only way it wouldn't get tangled up in the morning. You start from his very root, sectioning small amounts of silver hair and crossing them over in between your fingers, slowly but surely creating a beautiful and tight pattern. It's not a fast process, but you delight in it and you suspect so does the man in front of you, almost purring as you work. Tying the end of it, you rub his shoulders affectionately, his skin always warm beneath your palms.

"I am sore," Aemond complains. "A massage would be great."

You grin, pecking his cheek from behind. "As you wish, my Prince."

He is truly very tense, and you cannot fathom how distressing all that he witnessed is. You suppose it was a life-changing experience, in the worst way possible. It was clear how his eye hardened considerably in a short time. You would have surely run to the hills in his place, but he doesn't. He breathes and keeps his composure, hiding away all his fright, pretending to be indifferent, that he accepts his duty and the price of it gladly. But nobody would, less they lacked emotions.

Aemond lays down on his stomach, folding his arms above his head. Grabbing a bottle of coconut oil from the table, you take off your shoes and raise your dress to your knees before crawling on the bed to sit on top of his butt.

His body jolts as you drip a generous amount of oil on his large back, his muscles flexing. His body is so magnificent you could easily imagine a greater force meticulously creating each detail of it. Aemond moans the moment your hands start to caress his lower back. Your first touches are gentle, tracing circles up and down with your fingertips, mapping where you can feel some knots. Your hands move from his sides, to his shoulders, and up to the back of his neck, pinching it slightly.

"Fuck," Aemond grunts, voice muffled by the mattress. "This feels nice."

You add more pressure, stroking his back up and down, and after a few minutes back to tracing firm circles, this time with the heel of your hand. The prince is unable to contain noises of pleasure. Laying one of your hands on top of the other, you start the process of pushing his spine, once again beginning down and going up. A few cracks are heard.

Then, you add gentle pressure with your thumbs on his knots, his grunts are now a little bit more uncomfortable, but it's necessary. After you are done, you softly knead his back up and down, and then start switching between circling and stroking.

Aemond's moans along with the feel of his skin start to alight a desire in you, your lower stomach tingling in a known and annoying manner, womanhood pulsating with each new sound. It doesn't help how your filthy encounters had been becoming less frequent, the prince growing too busy with the war, and often you would feel bothered and insatiable.

It's unconscious the way you start rubbing on him, trying to relieve the ache you feel, and you do not realize what you are doing until he grips your thigh, halting your tentative movements at once.

"Stop teasing." He warns.

You stammer, a bit embarrassed. "I'm not, I–"

Suddenly you are pinned down by the prince, your positions switched as you utter your confusion by the suddenness. You should've been used to his strength and fast reflexes by now. "Do you deem your behavior acceptable?"

You swallow, trying not to smile, and feign innocence. "I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Oh, yes? You are unaware you were rubbing yourself on me like a bitch in heat?"

"I would never do that, my Prince."

"You would never…?" He chuckles, feeling amused.

"During my work? No." You shake your head in denial.

"So, if I touch your cunt right now, you would not be wet?" He cocks his head.

You bite your lips. "Not at all."

"Forgive me for not believing your words, but I shall need proof." Aemond's hand sneaks under your dress, fingers moving slowly from your shin to your thigh, his eye never leaving yours, daring.

You giggle when his finger parts your folds, rubbing the dampness between your legs. You buck your hips, in need of more friction.

"Liar." Aemond disregards with a click of his tongue, his pupil blown out as he circles your bud.

"Aemond." You gasp, eyes closing.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes, I've been taking care of you so well..." You try to negotiate.

"But I deserve so much more attention, don't you agree?" He kisses and licks your collarbone, finger never faltering, teasing.

"More?" Your breath is labored, and your voice is weak. His hand leaves your heat.

"I have killed a whole other dragon. It is not frequently one can say it. Yes, I believe I am due special treatment." He faces you again.

"I see," You grin. "You want me to do all the work?" Your lips brush his. "Such an idle prince." You provoke.

"Watch your mouth," He warns, pecking you. "I am merely tired. It's been eventful."

"Conveniently for you, I am feeling generous today." Your hands trail his bare waist.

"You are?" He smirks, nose touching yours.

"Uh-huh, and very happy you are unscathed."

"Show me, then," Aemond kisses your jaw. "Just how grateful you are."

The kiss you share is lecherous, wet, and rushed. Aemond does not fight you as you flip your bodies over and climb onto his lap, an evident bulge in the thin trousers that contours all of his cock tantalizingly. Even the clothed friction makes you both shudder, and you gather all of your strength to not start instantly grinding on his shaft.

You pull his trousers down, and his manhood springs free. Big, thick, veiny. Dripping coconut oil on your hands, you rub them together. Aemond wets his lips in anticipation.

Your hand slides through his length with no difficulty with the help of the oil, and the smell of it is delicious. You start jerking him off, and the prince hums in satisfaction.

Aemond wasn't the most vocal in bed, you realized it soon into your affair, but with time you had discovered the exceptions, the things that would make him forget all about his inhibitions and scream in pleasure.

After stroking him for a while, you cup one of your hands, very slowly circling his tip with the palm of your oily hand, fingertips dragging up and down his length while you do so. Aemond breathes sharply, his stomach twitching.

"Seven hells, love." He mutters with a tight hold on the sheets due to his sensitivity. You smile.

You focus on your fingertips, running them up and down his shaft lightly. Aemond adored the delicacy of the movement, the gentle yet torturous pressure, promising and unforgiving, kind and cruel. Then you circle his head again, again, and again. Careful to not hurt him. Aemond grunts, his eyebrows pinching together and face completely flushed as he bites his lips harshly, trying to hold back his moans, but you know it won't last long.

"Stop, it 's too much." He whines, but the delighted sound that escapes his mouth tells you to do anything but, his body trembling.

"Aw," You coo mockingly. "We know you can take it, my Prince."

You add more oil to your hands, holding his length and rotating your wrist as your palm rubs over his tip and shaft over and over. He completely let go as he closes his eye, his grunts being replaced by enchanting high-pitched and broken moans. It's quite pathetic the sight of him, the mighty and fearsome prince so supple on your hands, forehead glistening with sweat and breath erratic. Anyone outside could hear him.

"My love, please." He begs in the middle of whimpers, all of his body hair stirred up.

"Please what, my dear?" You ask innocently.

Aemond squirms. "I need to come," He gasps. "Please, please, please."

"Since you asked so nicely…"

You change the movement, keeping it only on his sensitive head, your other hand squeezing his balls. His voice gets louder, face twisted in pleasure as a tear falls down his gorgeous face, violet iris shining bright. You can feel your cunt soaked and throbbing achingly with the view.

He comes in a silent scream, hips bucking as hot loads of his spend fall into your hand and his shaft. You spread some of it around his length, still jerking him off as you help him ride out of his peak, the prince's body spasming.

"That's it," You praise him. "Good boy."

Aemond's breath is heavy as you find his lips, and he struggles to follow your pace, but he tries anyway, messy and urging. "Now you are going to be even nicer and let me use your cock, won't you?" You whisper.

His eye is lidded as he stares at you and nods, and you cannot resist the urge to press two sticky fingers to his curved lips, Aemond opens his mouth with no resistance, licking your hand clean. He's so compliant, somehow still lost in the void between the extraordinary bliss and the present moment.

"Anything for you." He mutters.

You grin. "That is what I like to hear."

Even if not necessarily frequent, happening mostly when he was worn-out or glum, it was rather obvious how letting someone of your position have control over him in bed, one of the very few situations in which you could be so blunt and disrespectful to a high-born, aroused the prince more than he would ever admit, a time in which he could forget about his obligations and just be good to you.

It doesn't take long into your kissing until you can feel him growing hard again, hands eagerly grabbing the hem of your dark red dress and pulling it up around your waist.

"Stupid dress." He complains in between lustful kisses, struggling to get rid of the clothing.

You laugh and help him take it off, throwing your apron and the dress somewhere around his quarters. Aemond instantly latches onto your right breast once you are fully naked, tongue hot and wet twirling around your nipple, and making you shiver and mewl as he sucks it into his mouth as if he is starved, your hand pulling at his braided hair.

Too impatient and greedy, you push him back on the mattress, positioning his member on your wet and tight entrance before lowering yourself down on it. You both moan at the stretch. It is spellbinding the way he watches you on top of him, making you feel like the most desired person in existence, his hands on your hips tightly.

You feel so full and excited you could almost see stars, the position has always been one of your favorites, his cock being able to reach just the right spots in this way.

"Seven, you feel perfect inside me." You gasp, grinding back and forward, your lungs clenching with the sudden and powerful wave of pleasure, so strong it is maddening.

Aemond growls, his body jolting with the motion. "You are a fucking witch, woman."

"For knowing exactly how to deal with you? I might as well be." You grin viciously, your hands resting on his chest.

Your eyes close as you rock your hips slowly and sensually, strained moans already leaving your mouth, and your bud brushing over his pubic bone makes you tremble. It's doubtless the best sensation you have ever felt, his cock dragging against your walls marvelously.

"Fuck, you fit me so well," You say out of breath, fastening your grinding. "Always so good for me, aren't you?"

You lean over slightly, pressing yourself more to him as you begin to bounce on his cock restlessly, the sinful noises echoing in the chamber only increasing your pleasure.

Aemond whimpers, both by the change of the movement and your words. "Always good for you, my love." He repeats, choking out.

Aemond's hands come to grip your ass desperately, certainly to leave bruises later, but now it's nothing but motivating for you.

He suddenly sits you both up, mouth finding one of your breasts again, saliva coating it as he plays with your nipple with tongue and teeth with no care. The sensitivity makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Delightful yet torturous whimpers on your lips as you continue to ride him mercilessly.

Sweat covers almost all of your body, and you feel as if you were burning from the inside out, the prince not looking any different, his cheeks and nose terribly reddened. You don't even care about the slight throbbing of your legs getting tired, or for the man you were fucking anymore, simply focused on the building of that rapture that feels so close yet so far. Your hold on his shoulders is firm beyond pleasant, but you assume his mind is elsewhere, and not in how your nails are breaking his pale skin.

You needed this badly and you knew you wouldn't last long. The knot inside you tightens hazardously, and you furrow your eyebrows, your bouncing getting even more frenetic. However, as good as it feels, you are growing overwhelmed as you ache for a release that's taking too long to come, somewhat stuck in a sadic joy. You whine out of glee and anticipation, too fucking eager.

"Don't stop, love," Aemond says with a groan, letting go of your breast with a pop to give attention to the other, his sucking sloppy as you pull at his hair harshly. You moan.

Not even in a thousand years you would dare to. When the long-awaited white-hot pleasure slams your body, you feel like ascending to the seven heavens itself. It's astoundingly overpowering at first and then diminishes in ripples as your heart drums painfully inside your chest, cunt fluttering around his member.

Your breath is heavy as you slow down, shivering and a little weary. Aemond moans while watching you come on his cock, and fortunately, he seems disposed to help you as he lays down again, bringing your body flush against his. He seems very roused as he impales you with his cock from beneath, growling into your ears while his hands squeeze your ass possessively.

You whine due to overstimulation, his thrusts are relentless, and the squelching sounds more prominent with how much you soaked his cock not too long ago. You are unsure if you want him to finish already or just keep using your cunt as he wishes regardless of your comfort, and the sheer thought of it inflames you.

It's surprising how fast it comes back, that burning and expectation in your lower stomach, apparently even stronger now. All that was not him and his cock in your womanhood is long forgotten. Blood rushes hot in your veins, high-pitched mewls and low grunts blending.

"By the Seven, Aemond." You hide your face in the crook of his neck, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

"Can you give me another one?" Aemond pounds into you harder, the smell of the shea butter and coconut oil from earlier consuming you. "I want to give you another one, beauty. I want to make you feel exceptionally good, yes?"

You try to respond to him but you just babble, teeth biting into the conjecture of his neck and shoulder, painting it red and purple, too dumbfounded to think or to measure your strength. But it seems your bites only incite the silver-haired more, his shoves faster and his groans broken.

One of his hands circles your waist securely to lock you in place, no falter in his thrusts. The wave of elation that suddenly crashes down over you is potent, numbing all your senses for a few seconds, but you are certain you must be screaming as you squirm. Your legs shake tremendously and your eyelids feel heavier.

Your second peak and the clenching of your cunt send Aemond over the edge. He bucks his hips, stilling inside you as he comes with a prolonged and deep grunt, head tilted back and lips parted. You didn't know what good action guaranteed you the privilege to see such a beautiful thing. Getting off him as he tries to regain his breath, a good amount of his warm seed drips in between your thighs, walls spinning as you feel quite faint.

Your back hits the fluffy mattress, your heart pounding in your ears and black dots cover your vision, which is slightly blurry. Shutting your eyes, you could not say how much time has passed as you recompose yourself and wait for your skin to cool down, but when you do, you are shocked to see the prince already soundly asleep next to you, mouth hung open as exhaustion had finally caught up to him after the latest events and your passionate indulgence.

Chuckling, you roll to your side as you watch him, his expression for once serene and breath even. You trace your finger gently across his straight eyebrow while appreciating the details of his face. The concern comes back to torment you as you wonder what the future has reserved for him, but you try to brush it off. You could only pray for his safety.

You recall the first time you saw him sleeping, it was quite unnerving, only the sapphire shining brightly while his good eye rested, but now the gemstone staring back at you was not only usual but comforting, a unique and enchanting charm in your opinion.

After getting up, you grab a cloth to clean the two of you, and although with a drowsy complaint from him, you manage to tuck the one-eyed in warm sheets. You put on your servant robes again and organize the mess you could deal with at the moment, gathering his armor as quietly as you can to be cleaned later. Pecking his pinkish lips slowly, you exit his quarters, feeling completely satisfied.

TAGS: @godrakin @m1ndbrand ♡⋆˙

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic

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qqueenofhades · 2 months

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I'm having a bit of a rough mood from seeing that the judge in the Georgia case dismissed some of the orange motherfucker's charges.

Can I get some your ever-insightful perspective on this, and if there's still hope for prison time for something? Anything at all?

I can offer a few pieces of context on this, yes. First, the judge did dismiss a few of the less-substantiated and secondary charges against Trump in the Georgia election interference case. However, these charges were primarily related to "soliciting others to make false statements," i.e. how he enlisted others in the purpose of overturning the GA election results, and do not contest or impact upon the actual fact of election subversion (which is at the core of the prosecution). The judge also openly invited the prosecutorial team to re-submit the dismissed charges with more substantiated evidence and clearer testimony, so this wasn't a from-the-bench hack job like the ones Aileen Cannon keeps running in the Mar-a-Lago classified documents case (seriously, when can we appeal to the 11th Circuit to get her taken off? WHEN???) Which, considering that this is a Republican judge appointed by a Republican governor (Brian Kemp) is a good sign.

In short, this wasn't the judge saying "all these charges are bogus and inadmissible," it was the judge saying "I'll dismiss a few of these for not being as well substantiated as the others, but please resubmit with revisions/improvements and I will be happy to consider them again." And while I am not a lawyer, it is my understanding that prosecutors typically bring a multiplicity of charges, including some that might not ultimately stick, in case of this exact circumstance where some of them get dismissed/required to undergo judicial review/are otherwise ancillary to the central indictment. Which, in this case, is still intact. So no, Trump is 100% not "getting entirely off the hook" or "no longer under investigation in Georgia" or whatever else. I'm sure the GOP will try to spin it as such, but ignore them. The Trump "find me 11,780 votes" phone call to Raffensperger and the rest of his Georgia election interference has not been dismissed, and the RICO case still largely exists as first filed.

This is also a good sign that the judge won't order Fani Willis dismissed and the case completely shut down, as the Georgia Republicans have been trying to do with their hit-job inquiry into her personal life. If the judge was leaning toward dismissing Willis/the case entirely, this could have been a lot more sweeping intervention, but it doesn't look like he's going to do that, and in fact offered them an invitation to re-submit and make the case stronger. So that actually bodes better for the chances of eventually securing a conviction in the Georgia case, if the prosecutors have to go back to the drawing board and make sure everything is airtight. It's probably helpful to see all this in the above light and to understand that all legal cases drag on for years, with forward progress and setbacks. Especially this one, which is unprecedented in all ways.

However, I need to warn people again about thinking that Trump will be tried, convicted, and imprisoned before the election, and that this will spare us from having to vote against him or otherwise electorally dispose of him. SCOTUS, to nobody's surprise but still our disappointment, agreed to hear the Trump immunity case in late April (instead of just accepting the DC Circuit's opinion), and while they're likely to rule against him, that still creates another months-long delay. Importantly, though, the Department of Justice has announced that the "no legal proceedings 60 days before the election" rule does NOT apply to Trump, as he has already been indicted and the cases are currently being litigated. If they had decided that the 60-day rule applied, all trial proceedings would have to be frozen in the first week of September, but since not, they can continue into October and November. If the 60-day rule had been upheld, it would have drastically increased the odds of Trump avoiding trial entirely before the election, as few prosecutors would have wanted to proceed when they knew that there was an automatic kill switch built in. But if the DOJ holds to this, Trump could literally be on trial on Election Day itself. Which is good, obviously, but still: it will not be the magic solution. We still have to vote for Biden.

As I have said before, the stakes in 2024 are simple. The criminal trials will not get rid of Trump before the election. There will be another election that is Trump vs. Biden and therefore one of them will win the presidency. If Biden wins and Trump loses, Trump will be out of delay options and will go to prison almost 100% as all his criminal chickens come home to roost. If he wins, we will be fucked for generations to come. Vote accordingly.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #the giant orange monster

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drdemonprince · 4 months

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two separate people have now told me that my boss is trying to get me to quit my job. apparently I'm supposed to pick up on the hints and go away. the hints: tasks that she used to push entirely onto me because she didn't want to do them, she's now seriously restricting my access to because I'm "not good at them." after three years of my solely handling them and going through the whole process of getting better at them and consistently improving. she's also reduced my hours a lot.

the thing is, this is my second job, and I've responded by increasing the hours at my primary job, so this isn't impacting my income at all. I'm just really sad about it, because I like this job, and the closest other place I could go to work in this specific roll is an hour away. I also want to have this particular job title on my resume for the longest possible stretch of time I can manage, because it'll help me later in the specific field that I work in. so...my inclination here is to just not quit. but I was also taking her at face value that she was just erroneously under the impression I'd spontaneously become bad at my tasks, until it was explained to me. so my take may not be correct.

thoughts?

Hi! Yes, what you are experiencing is called Constructive Dismissal, and it is a tactic employers use to try and force employees to quit by removing job tasks from their plate.

It is quite common for disabled employees in particular to be constructively dismissed. Most people find it so painful and threatening to have little to do, apparently, that it affects their self-esteem and gives them anxiety and makes them quit. I call it a free pay day!

Don't let them manipulate you. Don't read in between the lines. Use this to your advantage. Collect the paycheck, do as little as is now asked of you, and project an oblivious, neutrally positive quality. If they want to fire you or fuck with you, they will have to have the nards to do it explicitly. Many companies won't.

I was constructively dismissed at my current job in the first month! I am still here five years later because I just... kept showing up and kept myself busy with my own projects. I figured if they don't want to give me work to do, I can't argue with that! Turns out a lot of places will eventually kinda forget you exist which can be a good thing. Check out the r/Overemployed subreddit to read the stories of many people who take advantage of situations like these to collect two, three, sometimes four paychecks from shitty fake jobs at a time.

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libraincarnate · 1 year

Text

astrology notes: 2 🌱

𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a culmination of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experience. above all this is just for fun.

lastly, these may or may not apply to you but you might find something to be true about your friends, family, or lover. enjoy!

𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱

🕊 gemini in the 1st house:

curious about yourself and wanting to understand yourself. you like learning about yourself and may enjoy self-improvement. wanting to know why you like/do this and that. quick to notice something new about yourself like a new interest, hobby, desire, style, physical change, habit, and personality trait.

scorpio in the 1st house:

there is no point in hiding from yourself. the pain, traumas, things of the past, your dark side, fears, all these things are brought to the surface so that you can see and deal with them. this is needed to bring about the transformation. to shed the old skin.

capricorn in the 1st house:

confronting yourself. your flaws, your bad traits, the choices you made, what areas you lack discipline, being hard on yourself, being aware of your strengths and weaknesses. it causes you to be honest with yourself. to reflect on yourself, to be and do better.

^ having one of the 3 placements above can make someone very self aware and introspection can one of their strengths.

🕊 positive aspects between asteroid kiss (8267) and venus: being a good kisser, you love kissing, probably kiss your lover a lot, and you’ve been told you’re a good kisser.

🕊 2nd or 8th house stellium: money being a prominent factor in your life whether it be due to inheritance, marrying someone wealthy, having a job involving finance or managing money, or people giving you money just because. you may even dislike money but it’s still a theme in your life.

🕊 capricorn in the 5th house: may initially feel like you aren’t creative but later you start to see that you actually are. someone who takes their talents seriously. might struggle with finding a balance between work & play. you can feel guilty and lazy for having too much fun, guilty when you’re not working which makes it hard to relax and enjoy your hobbies.

🕊 mars/pluto in 6th house: you’re light headed and about to throw up why are you still forcing yourself to work? you might need to pay attention/listen to your body more. learn to balance the energy you put into your work and health. if you work too hard you can get sick, and if you’re sick it’s hard to be productive which leaves you miserable. you are human, respect your limits. learn how to take a break.

🕊 aries moon men have the prettiest eyes.

🕊 having prominent gemini placements or a lot of opposite aspects: can make you feel split, half & half, or like a walking paradox. you’re this but you’re also that, you are the synonym and the antonym, you’re both night and day, gray because you're both black and white. this can mean you have an interesting personality yet some confusion when it comes to understanding yourself and others understanding you.

🕊 lilith/venus in the 11th: your friends tend to have a crush on you or flirt with you. but lilith here might make your friends more hesitant to flirt or pursue you romantically. you could have a beloved/alluring/powerful presence on social media, easily attracting followers and building some kind of a presence because there is “something” about you.

🕊 taurus: when it comes to taurus & food (hear me out lol), the emphasis is usually on gluttony. this can be true but wait, there’s more!

food brings comfort (might be emotional eaters), cooking might make them feel beautiful and sensual, cooking for themselves is a form of self care and self love and cooking for others can be a love language. sharing a meal can create a bond and connection with others. their creativity may be used & seen in the recipes they create.

taurus is also associated with the mouth/throat and venus (taurus’ ruling planet) likes to be pleased so it makes sense.

furthermore, they could be farmers, gardeners, or be interested/knowledgeable in gastronomy, agriculture, or herbs/plants.

🕊 uranus-moon aspects: struggling with emotional stability which may lead to rebellion or acting out of order. may not be able to rely on your mom, and instead could find comfort in your friends. philanthropic deeds or making a contribution to society can be cathartic and liberating.

𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱

if you read this until the end I hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you.

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #astro notes #astrology notes #libraincarnate

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year

Text

"Better Story, Improved Effects." Mickey Altieri X Reader.

Soooo I was re-watching Scream 2 last week while sick in bed and something finally clicked in my brain and I realized oh fuck, I love Mickey. So shit, here we are, his first smut! I dunno where this all came from but maybe it was just lying dormant under the surface and now it’s all out here to play and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Big shout out to @eggsandbeer for the title, beta reading and to her and ALSO @ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds for the help on his character and all the hyping up since this was my first time writing him.

---

Part two now here.

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.3K. Mickey Altieri X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Warnings: Drinking. Cheating. You Are Randy’s Girlfriend. Shit Talking. Rude Behaviour. Manipulation. Making Out. Grinding. Dirty Talk. Vaginal Fingering. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Eating Pussy. Teasing. Banter. Orgasm Denial. Extreme Frustration. Bad Mouthing Randy. Filming. Sex Caught On Tape. Dub-Con. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Spanking. Masturbation. Cuckolding. Vaginal Sex. Squirting. Cream Pie.

—

The last way you wanted to spend your Friday night was attending a party solo and thoroughly annoyed with your boyfriend, and yet here you were.

You had been looking forward to unwinding from a hectic week with Randy, some drinks, getting a little messy, perhaps a bit publicly indecent. Then that turning from a kind of foreplay of its own to hastily finding a dark corner secluded enough to hook up with a minimal, (but still a very exciting and arousing), risk of getting caught.

But no, sadly, instead of getting to do any of that you were walking up to the party already well underway totally alone and all because Randy had other plans he didn’t bother making you aware of until about an hour ago. He bought a ticket to go see some movie he had already seen a hundred times, a fact you pointed out quickly that had him replying with equal speed, saying, “But I’ve never seen it on the big screen!”

As if that makes it all okay and would quell your negative emotions and upsetness about him leaving you behind and kicking off his weekend without you. He made some over the top, big and grand promises about making it up to you tomorrow and you rolled your eyes with an unconfident, “Uh-huh”.

It left your lips before he proceeded to try and smooth his departure with a few kisses that you barely returned and on top of that didn’t do much of anything to smooth down your ruffled feathers. He left in short order and you finished getting ready for your night out in a huff. Did you pour some extra effort into looking good so he would feel extra bad and stupid for ditching you for some lame movie? Yes. Was that just a touch petty? Also yes but who could blame you?

Soon as you pushed your way through the bothersome cluster of assholes that were all hanging out and talking in the doorway, for some fucking reason, seriously, who does that? Your first order of business was getting a drink.

The first one went down too quickly and quietly, you didn’t leave the drink station in the kitchen and certainly didn’t talk to anyone yet. One of your hands on the countertop as you gulped down the sticky sweet mixture. You made a second drink after the first and then decided to venture out and seek something out to make you forget about Randy, at least for a little while, the living room that was filled with music and people seemed like as good a place as any to start.

He was hoping he might see you here tonight but seeing you here alone was an unexpected treat. He’d caught sight of you the second you walked in although you did not spot him right off the hop.

He’d been keeping his eyes on you for a while and if Meeks was here there was no way he would have gone this long without latching himself onto you, he is many things, loud, opinionated, and fucking clingy. He doesn’t think there is a single time he had seen you two together where Randy hadn’t been hanging off of you, like he needed to touch you in some way at all times or he would be in physical pain otherwise. To be fair he isn’t sure he would be much better if you were his. None of your other friends were about and your expression told him you were upset, about what he didn’t know, and would he be a good friend if he didn’t walk over and check in on you?

You on an average day was already a treat for the eyes but on a night out like this, when you poured in that extra effort was truly something to behold. He made his way over to you, sliding up beside you, a hand tapping you on the shoulder as he asked, “What’s with the frown?”

Your head snapped up, looking to see Mickey right beside you, hand hovering over your shoulder and smile on his lips but eyes concerned. “Is my bad mood so obvious you clocked it from across the room?” You follow the question up by taking a healthy sip from your drink.

A raise of his eyebrows as he brought up his own cup, he’d crouched slightly when greeting you but standing back up to full height and with a half shrug as he said, “Well it is kinda hard to miss when blue is very much not your colour.”

You stifle a laugh into your cup before saying, “Cute, very cute.”

A grin breaks out on his face, he already got you laughing less than a minute into him walking up, this was a great sign. “Soooo what’s up?”

“Ahhhh-” A dismissive wave of your hand as you raise your cup for another sip, and he laughs, a shake of his head as he points to you, “No, no ‘ahhhh’, something is up so spill!”

“I don’t wanna bring down your night.” You say honestly.

He scoffs, “Doubt that you could do that, and what are friends for if not to listen to whatever is eating you?”

He made a good point. Maybe if you vented and got it all off your chest you would feel better? So you give in much easier than you probably should have. A heavy sigh and you take his hand with the one that wasn’t currently holding your drink, urging him as you say, “Okay, c’mon.”

Mickey brightens at the contact that you initiated as he lets you drag him off through the glass sliding doors leading to the backyard.

Sitting on the back patio you proceed to spill your guts, the thump of the music lessened now that you were outside, much easier to hear each other and talk properly. When you finished filling him in he was less than impressed to learn of the reason for your bad mood, what kind of idiot was Randy to ditch you like this? He was of course, nothing but sympathetic to your plight and your pain but also that not so small and sick part inside of him saw this as a golden opportunity, a perfect way to hopefully do what he had been dying to for months. He just had to play it right.

He started easy, saying, “Wow, no wonder you are so upset.”

You exhaled with a nod as you leaned back in your chair and that led to him following up with, “I mean I knew Meeks was a fucking idiot but this might be one of the dumber things he has ever done.”

A small shocked laugh spilled out and it emboldens him, he wants to lean closer to you but doesn’t want to push, not yet so instead he is continuing further before you could hope to respond, “Like does carrot top have any brains at all to rather pass up a party with you for a fuckin’ movie? I bet if I cracked his skull open all I’d find is some loose un-popped corn kernels and a pool of that artificial butter schlock they serve at the theatre he is at right now.”

“Damn Mickey, tell me how you really feel.” You responded before you giggled and he said with a sure nod, “I will! Randy fuckin’ Meeks is totally fucking brain dead for doing this and you should be pissed up at him.”

“Yeah?” You ask, fingers circling the rim of your cup and he said loudly, arms outstretched, “Yes! I mean Christ! What, you don’t think he deserves just a little bit of your ire for pulling this stunt?”

He makes a compelling argument.

He had you smiling, had you laughing and more importantly, he validated your feelings. The more you both talked, the more he decried Randy’s actions and backed you up as your second drink was finished, you felt it. The annoyance, the anger, the unfairness, you ended up telling him a few more things, disagreements and issues minor in nature that Randy had done to upset you, things you think you would be over but when a bit tipsy and upset, venting, it all comes bubbling up to the surface.

It really couldn’t have gone better, you giving him those few more insights gave him more chances to plant further unrest between you and him.

You felt insanely heard and listened to, and maybe it was your overall mood, maybe it was a bit of the drink, but everything he was saying made sense, perhaps Randy wasn’t that great a boyfriend, this movie thing might be indicative of a bigger problem in your whole relationship. Your head felt confused but that was lessening, the longer you chat, the more he insists Randy’s behavior is fucked up, you find it harder and harder to deny that it held weight and made sense.

All and all the conversation was around a half hour before he was encouraging you to get up, saying, “Enough about that asshole, it’s Friday night and look around, it’s a party! He’s out having fun and you should be too.”

He was right again and you told him as such, feeling less burdened, lighter and overall excited to have fun and put those awful feelings aside for the time being. “Yeah! No more moping, fuck him, it’s his loss.”

“Hell yeah it is.” You get up and the pair of you end up marching back into the party. Another drink, talking about not as heavy topics, snacks, sitting in on a card game or two, watching part of a movie that was playing on the tv, and a few hours later you were sitting almost shoulder to shoulder watching a very spirited game of beer pong.

You’d switched to water for a reprieve and during a small lull you said to him, “Hey Mickey?”

A questioning hum that had him turning his head to look at you, “Yeah?”

“Just wanted to say thanks for this. I was feeling really fucked up earlier and if you hadn’t stepped in I woulda had a totally shit time tonight but you completely salvaged it. So uhm, thanks.”

He smiles, a shrug before he says, “Least I can do, I sure as shit wasn’t about to let you sit around all dramatic and morose.”

You laugh before trying to defend yourself, “Dramatic and morose, huh? I don’t know if it was that bad.”

His silence speaks volumes.

You speak his name in a questioning and warning tone and he holds up his hand, a wishy washy and wavering hand motion as he said, “Ehhh-”

A scoff of mock offence bracketed with a laugh and you playfully punch him in the shoulder, “You dick! I thought you were saving me from my shitty boyfriend for the night! I didn’t know I was just trading one asshole for another.”

He plays up the impact, rubbing his shoulder as if it actually hurt and he says, “I’m just being honest, I thought you liked me when I was honest.”

“Honest or mean?” You fire back with a grin and he says, “There’s a difference?”

“For the average person, yes.”

All the back and forth was very fond and fun. You were feeling much better than you had been earlier by now and you suggested, “Wanna get out of here? Go for a walk?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You had no destination in mind. Just fresh night air and more conversation. As you meander about the topic, unsurprisingly considering you were talking with Mickey, the talking turns to movies.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen Stab?” He asked dramatically aghast, way too loud and head up towards the sky as if God themself would have the answer he seeked and you laughed, “I just haven’t!”

“Well we can fix that, no, we should fix that.” He insisted, a wave of his hand encouraging you to follow as he changed course, you turn to follow, a small jog to catch up to him, “What is it that good?”

“God no! It’s garbage.” He said with a look over his shoulder towards you as if you were nuts for even suggesting it was good. You laughed, “Right, so it’s garbage and so I have to see it?”

“Naturally.” He said with a confident nod, hands sliding into his pockets as you fell in step beside him and you say, “Isn’t it not out of theatres yet? I doubt a show is gonna be happening past midnight.”

“No worries about that, I got a bootleg.” He assured and you asked incredulously, “A bootleg of this garbage movie that you don’t like?”

“Do you not own bootlegs of movies you hate?” He asks and you say, “No because I’m not a fucking psycho unlike my present company apparently.”

He laughs the comment off and soon you are at his place, you had never actually been here before. It was late but you weren’t in a rush to go back to your own abode alone, leading you to step into the door he was holding wide open. Wasn’t a bad place at all and you had it to yourselves, it was slightly cluttered but clean and no off putting smells or gross dishes or garbage so hey, a big win and a leg up on many other college living spaces you’d seen in your time here.

Your eyes wander over the space, posters littering the walls, books scattered around and other items as he puts the tape in before coming to flop down beside you with a smile, “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

The couch wasn't half bad, there was more than enough room on it for you and him and yet you didn’t stay far apart for long. As you watched and talked, Mickey pointing out flaws and inaccuracies, jokes and riffing you and he scooted nearer, until this moment right there, where you were just about shoulder to shoulder. One of his hands was on his own knee, the other one gesturing to the tv screen as he said, “I mean have you ever seen organs look faker? The colour is totally off, the blood spray should have been bigger and this is supposed to be outside! Where’s the steam?! The inside of a freshly ripped into body should be hot.”

It wasn’t like horror was your favourite genre and you are sure it isn’t his but you could appreciate the passion he held for the craft, for authenticity of film making, you keep the mood light tease, “Oh yeah because you know just what a murder scene looks like, right?”

He laughs, hardly managing to stifle it before he says, “You don’t know everything I’ve done, I could have all sorts of life experiences you are unaware of but besides that it doesn’t take a killer to know that based off the body's internal temperature if sliced into like that-” Another point to the screen, the mangled torso with the mess of red and innards on display, “-it would steam up in the fall evening air.”

You hum with a nod and then a line read on screen was so bad he started up again with another joke that had you laughing in a way that made it hard to breathe. He was piling on, you leaning into him fully now and then that is when his hand makes contact, again only after you touch him first.

A simple move from his own knee to yours, both cracking up and as you come down his hand doesn’t move, instead a simple squeeze as his gaze shifts from screen to you and back again. He is wearing that sideways grin that before tonight sure made your own stare linger a bit longer than it should for a person with a boyfriend, but now? It was having a different effect.

You’d thought about it, mostly before you got with Randy, but Mickey was a really attractive guy, you got along absurdly well and tonight he treated you amazingly, was here for you in a big way when you needed him. You weren’t even tipsy any longer, you can’t blame the feelings he was giving you on the alcohol. You were only human and him encouraging you to feel your emotions, validating them, the close proximity and clear chemistry you both had wasn’t helping this either. You were positive he was into you.

Were you seriously considering this?

He interrupted your thoughts, “You having a good time?”

The question startled you. Not just because he spoke but what he said, Mickey was a pretty self assured guy, the question might sound insecure in nature but it wasn’t spoken in a tone that lended to that. You play along and respond, “Yeah, yeah I am. Why do you ask?”

“Oh just know that what we got up to tonight probably wasn’t what you were initially planning to.” He responded with ease, not insecure, just concerned and you sighed, he was a really good guy wasn’t he?

“Yeah it wasn’t but that isn’t your fault it’s Randy’s for ditching, besides what we did almost all of what he and I would have anyway plus some extra stuff.”

You gesture to the screen and the movie you certainly wouldn’t have seen were it not for him. He asks next, “Well glad I could help give you a good Friday night but that almost all has me curious, what exactly did you miss out on?”

You were painfully aware of the fact that his hand was still on your knee, your eyes drew down slightly at the maintained contact, your shoulders still pressed together, your thighs touching, you leaning into him has created multiple points of contact that you were only just paying attention to now. His body was warm, he smelt good and the question he asked made your mind run back to your intentions at the start of the night, of that semi public risky fuck you wanted to have with Randy.

A subdued shrug, so small that if his eyes weren’t locked onto you and your shoulder on his he might have missed it, “Nothing two college kids in a relationship wouldn’t normally get up to post-party.”

“Ahhh.”

The silence that followed was heavy and tension filled and he said, his eyes moving over you in a way that could be read as more than just ‘friendly’, “Shame I can’t help you out with that.”

Fuck it.

“Couldn’t you?” The question was spoken with your gaze raised, gaging his reaction, the slight raise of his eyebrows and confusion on his features meets the small uptick of the sides of his mouth, “What about Randy?”

“What about him?” You bite back with a casual shrug.

This was too perfect for him but he still had to play this right. An amused exhale before he reminds you, “He’s your boyfriend?”

“And yet I am here with you, alone in your place and on your couch with him nowhere in sight.” And any remaining gap was closed by you, leaning that last bit, one hand meeting his cheek and you tugging him closer to kiss him. As soon as you made that final move, as soon as your lips met his all bets were off, this was happening, patience and hard work pays off and he can take.

The response you draw from him is immediate, a soft groan, his hands moving, finding your waist, shifting his body and adjusting his posture to better return your sudden affection. You move with him, allowing him to do what he wants, take more of the lead, something he seemed to do with a startling amount of ease, as if he expected you to not only bend but to be into it.

You were very much into it.

It wasn’t like what you had with Randy was bad but he was relatively inexperienced when you got together and still wasn’t the most confident without some major prompting and praise. He was a good kisser but more than that you had a great rhythm off the hop, found a solid groove with a natural give and take that seemed to feed into one another beautifully. His hands feel good on your waist, they are grounding and it drives you to want to touch him further. The thumb on your hand still cupping his face swipes over his cheekbone and you tilt his face to be closer still, a move he permits along with your other hand starting on his side before wandering up the expanse of his chest through his shirt.

His hands slip lower, you feel a rough press of him over your hips and then his hands on your outer thighs and he tugs, a further adjustment so you are underneath him, he is leaning further forward, his body starting to cover yours as the make out hastily progressed. The need overwhelms you first, he breaks the kiss and his lips drags down your jaw and further still, kissing over your neck and you arch, squirming your hips, grinding against him and he smiles against your throat from how well this is going so quickly.

Your fingers hook in the neck of his shirt, tangling, twisting, you pull, desperate for more contact as you grind again, he nips lightly at your pulse and you moan again, softer and so sweet, addicting for him to hear. Another few passes of tongue and of teeth that have your thighs hugging his hips and the next grind that happens is mutual, as is the breath that is caught in your respective throats. “Fuck, you’re better at this than I imagined.”

The smile on his face shifts to a grin that is outright cocky, one of his hands on your hip he pulls, makes you grind on him in a way that has your head falling back with a sigh and he asks, “Have you imagined me like this a lot?”

Your hands don’t stop wandering his body, feeling him and when you don’t respond right away, more concerned with the next move of your hips and the subtle rush of pleasure, he continues, “Thought about me being the one doing this when you’re with your shitty little boyfriend?”

A shake of your head, but you don’t stop, you start to tug, a silent plea for him to take off his shirt and one he gives into as you say, “He’s not that bad.”

He is sitting up on his knees, the lack of contact makes you want to complain but the fabric is peeled away and thrown to the side and any possible complaining is forgotten about. A scoff, “Sure, yeah, he’s a real great guy, hence why you were just grinding yourself all over me with your tongue down my throat.”

A laugh that is too light all things considered, “Shut up.”

He listens. Your hands on his shoulders yanking him until he is against you once more, your mouth crashing into his. Your body was warm and soft, you were talking about this being better than you imagined but he was stuck with the same realisation, you were a good kisser, had amazing give and take and of course the mental aspect, you were in a relationship but ready and willing, touching him, kissing him, it had him aching in his jeans. He started to tug on the bottom of your top and you broke the kiss in a hurry to free yourself of the constraining material. The sight of you in your bottoms and the pretty lace framing you up top turns him on so much more.

It progresses quickly after that. You spread below him on your back, your tongue parting his lips allowing his into your mouth, an action he completes with a small groan his wandering hands choosing to settle, particularly one finding its home between your thighs and you arched into his touch with a hushed, “Fuck yes.”

He lets out a pleased hum, your hands work with his, removing the remaining clothing to give him better access and when there is the last layer between you and his touch he asks in a tone that is as humorous as it is sickeningly sweet, “Am I allowed to speak?”

A hurried nod as you squirm, his fingers brush over you more firmly and he says, “You’re fucking drenched. I don’t think I’ve ever felt someone get this wet from just a little making out, how hard up for it are you?”

“Very.” Your breath hitches and he knows he’s found the right spot to focus on, fingers swirling over your straining clit through your damp panties. “Is he not doing what he should be?”

Your brain feels foggy, you are far more concerned with the sensation starting to wash over you, limbs feeling heavier, eyes half lidded and rocking your hips with the movement of his hand, “Who?”

He laughs, “Who? You already forgot all about him? That tells me everything I need to know that poor ol Meeks isn’t satisfying you.” Before any protest or defending of your boyfriend could leave your mouth he is tugging the crotch of your panties aside and feeling the bare heat of his fingers against you makes you gasp, head falling back against the arm of the couch.

You try to push out what you wanted to say, try to tell him, “I-I didn’t forget M’ just, ugh, distracted, you-you’re distracting.”

“Awe yeah, I’m a really big distraction, do I make it hard to think?” He asks as his fingers pick up the pace, pressing more firmly you moan and nod, “Yes! You do.”

“I could make it worse.” He teases and he moves quickly. Still shirtless, in just his jeans he is on his knees and tugging you further down the length of the couch, underwear half on, your legs over his shoulders his head dips down and his strong but soft tongue licking that first stripe over your clit has you crying out with an arch of your back.

He did make it worse. You couldn’t think properly as soon as the make out started, your mind was far too busy with him and the taste, feeling, the pleasure, it stole all logic and sense. With his lips wrapped around such a sensitive part of you, cradling your clit and sucking indulgently, pretty mouth latched on and tongue lathing over you between his lips, fingers digging into your hips and ass as he held you where he needed, you felt like you were threatening to fall apart in less than five fucking minutes.

Panting out his name, heels digging into his well toned back, fingers scrambling against the corduroy like material of the couch cushions as the feeling built, if he kept this up you’d be cumming against his talented tongue in about two more minutes. Thighs squeezing his head as well as your erratic breathing clues him into how close your end is and he pulls back, the wet strand of spit, the leash connecting his mouth and your clit breaks as he moves back, his fingers take over, messy circles drawn and you whine as the edge backs off from the change in pressure and technique, “How are you doing up there?”

His own voice sounded rough with arousal, the knowledge that he is into this, getting off on eating you out makes another wash of arousal soak into your brain, heart still pounding as you tell him, “Good, so good, please Mickey, keep going.”

“Keep going?” He asks, his head resting on your inner thigh as his fingers continue to dance over your pulsing clit, your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip, a nod as your eyebrows draw together, “Yeah, please? I was getting close, an-and your mouth is, fuck, amazing.”

He preens under the praise, “Oh is it?” He is playing dumb as his thumb comes down and he pulls your clitoral hood up, nerve dense tissue exposed and vulnerable, he blows gently and you shiver, body tensing, Christ, how were you so sensitive that even air passing through his lips felt this good?

“Ye-yeah, I wanna cum, please, please-” And he decided to tease you further still, he leaned in, tongue out and your eyes are wide, teeth tugging on your bottom lip, desperate to feel him again, for him to keep going, to push you over the edge. Less than an inch from contact he pulls back with a sigh, “I dunno-”

Your head tips back with a loud groan as you roll your eyes, “Fuuuuck, Mickey, c’mon, I’m dying over here!”

“Yeah? Does it hurt, yet?” He asks and you do notice a distinct ache along your swollen walls, a throbbing pain of denial in your clit steadily building and how awfully empty you feel at this moment.

“Starting to, yes.” You bite out and he says, “Maybe I should be nice and help you out.”

“Yes, please, please be nice to me.” You beg and with your head still back, staring up at the ceiling you are unprepared when he licks over you again, the yelp that leaves you makes him snicker before he says, “Sure, I’ll be nice, I’ll get you off.”

You ramble, babble out your thanks and his mouth is back where it should be, lips locked over your clit, licking, sucking, one of his hands sliding between your thighs and two fingers delve inside to aid further, you clench around them with a stuttered moan of his name. It takes about three minutes for you to be on the edge between him working your clit and his fingers fucking in and out of you, curling just so in and out again and again. “God, Mickey, don’t stop, don’t stop, M’ almost there-”

And then he does just that.

He stops, his fingers stay lodged inside of you, fingers pressed to that sweet spot he’d found with ease but no longer moving and you want to cry, you ask in completely frustration, “Mickey what the fuck?”

“I know, I know, I told you I’d help you out and M’ gonna, soon as you give me something.” You are looking down the length of your body to him between your spread thighs and are just about ready to agree to anything so long as he’d make you cum. “What is it?”

The grin on his face is positively wolfish, he licks again over your clit and you inhale sharply, “Nothing big.”

“No?” You ask and another lazy lick combined with a rock of his fingers he says, “No. I just want you to tell me I’m better than Randy is and I’ll make you cum your brains out.”

Your heart drops, you shake your head, for some reason, that wakes you up, makes the heat inside you cool, you feel like that is the line, that is too far, you say, “No, I-I can’t do that.”

He tsk’s, “Shit, guess you don’t want to cum that bad then.” He didn’t stop though. He didn’t pull away, far from it, he goes back to eating you out and fingering you he just kept fucking stopping before you could cum and he kept on posing that question, your juice painting his chin.

“You wanna admit it yet?” And you kept on telling him, “No-no, I-I don’t ha-have anything to admit.”

It made him laugh. He had two fingers three knuckles deep inside you, right now and felt your clit pulsing in pure frustrated need in his mouth less than two seconds ago but sure, you had nothing to admit. “I can feel how hot and worked up you are, how many times have I edged you already? You are a really, really bad fucking liar.”

“M’ not lying!” You attempt to assert but your voice wavers, “No? So I’m not better than Randy? He makes you sweat and tremble like this before he’s ever even made you cum once?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and refuse to meet his gaze. You want to thread your fingers in that stupid sexy messy hair and grind on his tongue until he makes you cum, not have this stupid battle of wills.

“Mmm, yeah that is why you aren’t able to look at me, because I am so far off base.” He sounds unbearably smug and he slides his fingers out of you and you almost break, you want to sob and plead for him to continue but he is sucking the mess that had coated his fingers and you again feel your mind going blank at the visual.

He is getting up and his erection pressed against the denim looks like it has to hurt, he was starting to undo his pants and said once he was standing at full height, “How about you return the favour though and see if your tune changes?”

That sounds way too appealing to you especially because you could pay him back with some torture of your own and torture you do. After taking in the sight of him bare, your mouth is practically watering, he looks frankly delicious and you intend to dine happily. Your hand locks around the base and you lean in, eyes staring up at his face as your tongue makes the first pass, intent on taking in his expression and how he reacts to the movement. It is positive to say the least, the slight inhale, the tensing of his muscles, and the small curse that spills out. Your tongue flicks over his flushed tip, tasting the ample pre-cum that he had been leaking, your lips close, a chaste kiss before you begin to move down one side of his shaft, he is impossibly hot and throbbing in your grip.

This is going to be too easy.

Is what you initially thought but you would also be very wrong, because even as you let him breach your mouth, even as you begin to suck and take more of him in, you don’t feel in control or empowered. You feel weaker and hotter, he made you feel so fucking good with seemingly such little effort that you being able to do the same, to pull such reactions out of him makes you want consider his previous offer more seriously.

You try to push those thoughts away as you blow him.

You gag yourself, choke on him and it makes him groan your name, his hips buck, he fucks in and out of your lips stretched around him and drool slips out, slides down your neck as you hold his hip with one hand, the other around the base of him still, hand working him in tandem with your mouth. You look up again, his eyes are still on you, on the length of him sliding between your slick lips, his neck and chest blooming red, flush from pleasure painted over his features as he pants and you squeeze your thighs together.

All in all you used your mouth on him for around five minutes before you break, pulling him out you ask, out of breath and needy, “Fuck me?”

Randy is coming inside after going to get himself some breakfast, it’s around ten AM, sun shining and he is carrying a stack of mail and thinking about giving you a call soon to make up for him bailing last night. The movie was a good time but he missed you, he didn’t do much after the movie, came back here and went to bed basically, he thinks you will probably be up soon. He is about to sit down on the couch when something catches his eye, namely, a tape half in half out of the VCR. He comes forward, he pulls the tape out and there are no markings whatsoever on it, odd.

He is curious enough that he thinks why not, he shrugs and pops the tape in, he walks back around the coffee table and is flipping through the mail again but what he hears gives him pause, makes him stop.

Hearing a very familiar modulated voice greeting him, “Hello Randy. Been a while. Seems like some stuff has changed for you, like the cute girlfriend, she’s new. I like what I have seen of her, how much I have seen of her, thought you’d be interested to see what she was up to last night that I managed to catch on video.”

And the voice over cuts out and instead he is hearing your voice, gasping out, “Mickey oh my fucking God-”

He pauses flipping through and looks up and what he sees playing out on the screen makes him gasp.

The video shows a well lit apartment, the main focus of the shot is a couch, the view is from the side and bent over the arm of the couch pointing at the lens is you, not a stitch of clothing on, fingers digging into blue fabric, open mouthed and moaning, with who the fuck else but Mickey Altieri behind you. He was fucking you and seemingly you were loving every second of it, your face twisted in bliss and rocking back onto him, “Yes, yes, yes-”

“Good?” He asked with a laugh and your head pitches forward, a shaky nod and you hum the affirmative, “Mmhm!”

“Yeah it is, fuck you’re tight.” His hand reaches out, he grabs your hair, wraps the handful around his fist and he tugs hard, you cry out and clench down on him making him suck his own teeth from the sharp jolt of pleasure, he is pulling your hair so your head snaps back up, making sure he is showing off your gorgeous expressions for the camera.

Little did you know that when he passed by the camera set on the counter earlier to grab his bootleg he turned it on, that it had been running this whole time. It didn’t take much to edit it, or to add the voice over or for him to sneak it into Randy’s apartment either, honestly it was too easy if anything.

Randy had dropped the mail and was slowly sitting down, he can’t stop watching as you rock yourself back, helping impale yourself on Mickey and moaning the whole way. His hand that wasn’t pulling your hair is sliding down and the cry that tears from your throat makes what he is doing obvious, fucking you doggy style and toying with your clit at the same time has you telling him in a few more thrusts, “Shit, oh, ohh Mickey, fuck, I-I’m close again, fuck-”

“You gonna give it up? You gonna say what we both know is true?” He prompts and you shake your head, “I-I cah-can’t, Mickey, just, let me cum, please-”

“Not till you say it.” His hand is out of your hair and laying a hard hit onto your ass that makes your back arch and finally you can’t take it any longer, your confession pours out, “You’re better than him okay?! Fuck, fuck! You’re so, so much better tha-than Randy, make me feel so good, he-he’s a joke next to you, God, don’t stop!”

“Oh there you go, see? Doesn’t being honest feel so, fucking, good?” Those last three words are bookended by a brutal thrust, another strong move of his fingers and finally you break, nodding along, agreeing as you cum chanting his name over and over like some broken and fucked up prayer, trembling the entire time as the pleasure tears through you and threatens to make you collapse.

“What the fuck…” Randy asks quietly as he continues to watch the scene unfold, watch as Mickey keeps railing you totally dumb and you agree with all the fucked up things he asks, drooling and telling him, “You’re so good, so much better, keep, ah, keep fucking me, please!”

“You think I’m able to stop now? Not a fucking chance.”

He can’t bring himself to turn it off. Even as you continue to insult him, even as Mickey makes you parrot back that Randy is quote, “A shit fuck-ing boyfriend who doesn’t deserve you.”

When you say it though it sounds a lot more broken and pathetic, "He-he's a shit fu-fuck-ing boyfriend who-who doesn't deserve meeee-"

Randy gets shamefully, embarrassingly, painfully hard as Mickey fucks you harder and harder, fucks you through another two more orgasms and a few more good position changes. Watching you ride him while he has a hand locked around your throat is hard to take, but the worst has to be when Mickey has his arms wrapped around you, fucking up into you and you are just trying to take it, legs shaking and too weak to do anything else but cling to and kiss him as he has you, as he holds you. That sloppy kiss is broken, your eyes squeezed shut as you are telling him for the fourth time since the tape started, “Mickey, I’m close again, God, yes!”

And not only do you cum, not only do you sob out his name as Mickey’s hard dick slips in and out of your well fucked hole, no, you end up squirting too, something Randy didn’t even know your body was capable of. Your moan bleeds, cracks at the edges and the man fucking you laughs, a blissed out joyful sound of disbelief, “Holy shit!”

The amount that comes out of you is impressive, he watches as the camera picks up the rivulets of liquid as they race down Mickey’s shaft and his sac and the quickly darkening stain under the pair of you as he doesn’t relent even for a moment. Mickey kisses you, deeply, sloppy and to add further insult to injury, after you are coming down from your orgasm, he breaks that same kiss he initiated and asked, “Randy ever make you squirt like that?”

And you laugh, eyes rolling back and a shake of your head as you breathlessly admit, dumb and cock drunk as you tell him, “No way, not once.”

The tape doesn’t even stop there, it goes on until Mickey is the one warning you minutes later of his impending orgasm and it is like you become possessed, your hands lock behind his neck, a burst of energy, motivated, you ride with abandon and Mickey doesn’t even have to ask, you are too far gone, you are the one who begs, “Cum inside, don’t pull out!”

He should get up.

He should turn off the tv.

He should take out the tape and smash it to bits but no, he does none of those things. He watches helplessly as Mickey’s hands grip your hips so hard Randy bet’s they will bruise as he holds deep and unloads inside of you. Mickey let out a groan of your name and you shiver and Randy is sure you can feel every pulse of him as he fills you.

The come down is sickeningly and stomach turningly intimate, he feels as if he is intruding on a private moment even though you are his girlfriend. He watches the kisses passed back and forth, the soft touches and he is about to wonder when the tape WILL finally cut when he hears that mocking voice of Ghostface again, “Pretty hot, huh? I think they make a good couple, what about you Meeks? You enjoy the sequel?”

And the screen goes black.

He sits there staring at the tv set for all of thirty seconds before he gets up and goes over. He doesn’t hesitate to hit rewind. He should talk to you, confront you about what happened, what this means, what you did but when the tape finishes rewinding he doesn’t do that.

He takes his original seat and frees himself from his pants and guilty enjoys the second of what is sure to be many viewings with his dick hard and hot in his palm.

#HOOOO BOY #HERE IT IS #Mickey Altieri X Reader #Ghostface x reader #BHF writing #Thank you again to Riri and Ace for all the assists!#I loved writing this so fucking much #Randy Meeks X Reader

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sealpup9 · 2 years

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ATTN ARTISTS-- AI LIGHTING PROGRAM (AKA CLIPDROP) IS TAKING YOUR ARTWORK

The AI Lighting website is actively taking any uploaded images and training AI to make (edit: AI Generated art. Possibly NFTS, please see edit below.). I've seen some people talking on here about how there's no harm in using Clipdrop because it's teaching them how to properly light things, but nothing about how the program takes your artwork and uses it to make AI generated artwork/NFTs up to five years after you upload stuff.

Artists: do not use services like these. Always be suspicious of sites like these.

I had major hesitation and suspicion upon seeing this as is and now theres actual proof, so....

EDIT:

Sources for the threads above: 1 2

So some people have been saying that just because the co-founder is an NFT bro doesn't necessarily mean that they are using the AI for that specific purpose and I think they're right it's just extremely scummy that they can use your art to create AI Generated images and NFTs are literally AI Generated images, so that's the train of thought that me and many other artists have been concerned about.

I personally would not want my artwork to be used to teach AI how to make artwork or improve AI generation because i personally believe there's something extremely morally incorrect about taking art from artists, feeding it into an AI, using it to generate artwork, and claiming that artwork as your own. There are threads on twitter that discuss how AI is the creator, the person using the AI is actually the client, and the client in this case is absolutely horrific--

“The reason people are getting increasingly frustrated with AI "artists" is that no, they AREN'T artists. They're nightmare clients. They tell the AI what they want, demand infinite revisions of it, and once finally satisfied, claim the work as their own. I have painted characters and weapons for clients, and while yes, the cool designs they paid me to draw are THEIR concepts, they did not paint it, and they are not calling themselves the artist who did the commission!” - @Anodesu on Twitter

Recently, an AI Generated piece won a contest worth actual money, and many of the artists who lost were rightfully upset.

Something that we need to remember is to listen to artists when they talk about how AI could very seriously take over the market due to the fact that there are so little laws in regards to it, and jobs are already being lost in fields like journalism due to the use of AI generated works.

I think we need to be thinking about these specific questions?

Should it be legal for websites like this to put sneaky things in their TOS in regards to creating AI artwork using any uploaded images?

Should it be legal for creators of AI to feed their AI works that they do not have the rights to to make their AI create artwork?

How many artistic jobs are going to be lost due to AI taking the artwork of others without paying for it, and generating artwork that people don't have to pay for?

These are questions we just don't know the answer to, and with how slow lawmakers have been in terms of privacy laws online, and how slow they've been in regards to NFTs, it's going to be a while before we really see how much this will impact artists and freelancers.

To finish this off, I’d like to post this thread in regards to how AI generated art is art theft:

In my opinion, I am fully against AI generated artwork unless the creator of the AI only feeds art that they have the rights to/permission to. That being said, I believe this kind of thing needs to be an “opt-in” sort of reasoning, meaning if you want to give your artwork to AI, then go for it. But things like Clipdrop and other image-uploading sites make very sneaky additions to their TOS that artists need to be aware of.

Edit (part 2):

I want everyone denying even the possibility of this being used for NFTs to start using your critical thinking skills for just a moment. Nothing in life is going to be black and white, and no company is required by law to say exactly what they are using their tech for. This post is a means to inform artists that their artwork can be taken and used to create AI-Generated artwork, and many artists have come out with information and concerns about this technology. Please make your own decisions, but do not call this information fearmongering, as it's simply information.

#clipdrop #ai lighting #ai artwork #nfts #nft #so yes by using this you give them permission to take your artwork #terms of service are so important #i hate that this is a thing

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britcision · 9 months

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I’m pretty sure the people bitching about not giving money to tumblr are the same ones who complain when AO3 or wikipedia ask for donations, so I’m just gonna clarify something

Running a website is not free

Even if they made no changes and did only maintenance, they still need to pay for server costs, expert programmers for when something goes wrong, storage (although frankly storage is cheap as chips these days which is nice)

They need to keep up with the capabilities of new tech like improvements to web browsers, never mind their own apps keeping pace with old and new tech developments

Backwards compatibility (being able to run the updated app on old tech) is a massive problem for apps on a regular basis, because there are people out here using an iPod and refusing to update software

There’s a reason every few years apps like Animal Crossing will issue an update that breaks backwards compatibility and you can only play if your phone is running more recent software

This shit costs money even before you look into the costs of human moderation, which I’m not exactly convinced is a big part of their current budget but fucking should be if we want an actual fix for their issues with unscreened ads and reporting bigots

Ignoring that it’s apparently illegal for companies not to actively chase profits, running Tumblr is expensive

And advertisers know we fucking hate them here

They’re still running ads, which we know because they’re all over the damn place, but half the ads are for Tumblr and its store

Other ad companies know we are not a good market, so they’re not willing to put the money in

Tumblr runs at a $30 million deficit, every year, because hosting a site is expensive

They are trying to take money making ideas from other social medias because they’re not a charity; they need to make enough money to keep the site going

If you want tumblr to keep existing, never mind fixing its many issues that require human people to be paid to do jobs like moderation, they will need money

Crabs cost $3

One crab day a year can fix the deficit and hammer home for Tumblr that:

A) we do want to be here and want the site to keep going

And B) they do not need to do the normal social media money making strategies we all hate

They need a way to make money if you want the hellsite to exist, because we live in a capitalist hellscape and cannot all be AO3

If they think they can make enough to keep running without pulling all the tricks we hate, they have no reason to pull said tricks

But they need money

And a way to make money

And if we can show them we can do that, there is a significantly higher chance they will listen to us, the user base they need money from, than if we don’t

Tumblr isn’t perfect, or anywhere close. They need someone to actually screen the paid ads they put through, they need to take the transphobia, antisemitism, and bigotry seriously

These Are Jobs That Will Cost Money

People Need To Be Fucking Paid For Their Work

Tumblr Is Not Run By Volunteers For Free And Nor Should It Be

Paying People Is Good Actually

So if you wanna get all high and mighty over $3/year, by all means, go spend that hard earned cash elsewhere

Good luck finding a perfect and morally pure business to give it to though

Being a whiny negative asshole isn’t more appealing just because you’ve put yourself on a moral soapbox, it just means the asshole is a little higher up

For all the whining about “all the new updates are terrible this site is unusable”…. It’s one fuck of a lot more usable than it was in 2017, 2018, 2020

And yeah, it’s going back down and most of the newer ones have been fucking annoying and I would also like them to stop

But it got up somehow and that means it could do that again

Hope is more fun than edgy nihilism

August 1st is a good and exciting day to summon a crab army

#tumblr #crab day #fuck if i know what a profitable plan for tumblr as is will look like #since half the user base are entitled assholes who think they shouldn’t pay for less than perfection #and tumblr themselves are entitled assholes who think $5/month is a good base proce #motherfuckers would have so many more people if it was $2-3 #totally not paying $5/month for this shit #but $3/year? yeah that’s okay

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genericpuff · 27 days

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I don't know the term for creators who became popular outside the traditional steps to "make it" in their profession; then when people started taking their work seriously and giving them criticism, these creators saw it as an attack because they are not used to mentors and studies.

Smythe's professional training is vague at best, being a folklorist. Then there's the creator of the popular hell cartoon that became her own executive producer and director in her 20s (I'm not going to say her name since it tends to attract her rabid fans) and becomes reactive to any kind of criticism on Twitter. Then there's that TikToker Devon Rodriguez, who became popular for sketching people on subways, and when an art critic gave a mild review to his art gallery, Devon unleashed his fans on him.

Like am I seeing a pattern here for artists? And I guess, what do you think we can learn from it.

Ah, so this is a very interesting (and broad) topic that we've touched on in discussions in ULO and other webtoon-related communities. So buckle up, it's time for an ✨essay✨

I think the best way I can sum up my thoughts on this issue is: the vast majority of people who become paid content creators don't seek out a job as content creators, a job in content creation is just something that happens to them.

I say "content creation" because this is something that applies to a lot of other platforms and online mediums as well, such as the examples you included (TikTok, Youtube, Twitch, etc.). And don't get me wrong, it's not like every successful content creator out there didn't work their asses off to get to where they are, but for many... it still involves an element of luck. People don't go to school for it, people don't "apply" to become influencers, and much of it relies entirely on just making stuff until it gets seen and propelled into success.

I think a lot of these issues arise with the creators themselves and how they view their own work. The reality is that many of us artists have been treated as the "rejects" of society, we constantly feel like we're misunderstood and have some deep inner pain that we express through our art, and instead of going to therapy, we come up with OC's. It's a lot more fun and it's a lot cheaper LOL Webcomics naturally wind up being the perfect lightning rod for people who feel that way, where we can pour ourselves into the characters, the world, the narrative, in a way that perfectly mixes our talents for art and our need to express our innermost thoughts and feelings about ourselves and the world around us. So when our art gets criticized or rejected ... it can be hard for a lot of artists to not feel like it's a criticism of the self, a rejection of our identities, an attack on our feelings and experiences, because we've tied so much of ourselves to our work. And this can make that transition very difficult for people who are trying to go pro, because being professional demands separating yourself from your work, at least enough that you can view it objectively, recognize its flaws, seek out pathways to improvement, and not take every bump in the road personally.

A lot of successful creators are people who just never made that transition. It's led to an abundance of professional creators who know how to film themselves or react to content or, in the case of webcomic artists, write stories about their OC's, but don't know how to actually navigate the industry at a professional level. They don't know how to read and negotiate contracts, they don't know what deals are actually good for them and which ones are better left on the table, they don't know how to manage teams of people, they don't know how to react to the attention, praise, and criticism of their audience - they're just doing what they've always done, but now they're making money doing it.

None of this is to speak ill in any way of the creators who've found success and are still just doing what they've always done for money. None of this is meant to be a slight on the creators who are using webcomics and art as an expression of their deeper selves (I do it myself, it's very cathartic!) because ultimately that's what makes your work your work, the fact that you made it, with all your good parts and bad. Many of these creators are capable of running their platform without any issues because they've learned how to play the game, or because their platform is made up of people just like them so their audience is more like just a social circle.

But many of them still also can't operate on a professional level and those are the ones we often see getting called out and held accountable when they do shit like, I dunno, scamming their audiences for money or making alt accounts to manipulate user reviews or plagiarizing from other people's work or just being really REALLY shitty to their own audience.

Often times these are people who are just doing what they'd normally do as a hobby, became well known for it, and managed to turn it into a living. But they never actually learned how to turn their hobby into a job, and themselves into professionals.

And artists especially are prone to this because, let's face it, a lot of us are just weebs having fun drawing our blorbos, so of course if we get a chance to monetize that, we're gonna! We should! We should want to be paid for our work and time and efforts!

But we also have to remember that it's a different ballgame, especially if you're turning your audience into customers. "I'm just a baby creator doing this for fun" doesn't and shouldn't apply anymore once you start signing contracts, selling your art as products, taking people's money to fund your projects, etc. because now it's not just your art, it's what you're expecting people to pay for so you can eat and pay your bills and live.

As much as our art is often personal and should be cherished as such, you can't expect people to want to pay for it if you're not setting a bar and meeting it, or if you're not treating your audience with any amount of dignity or respect.

I'm not saying you're not entitled to having feelings or still wanting to treat your art as art, but the line between art and products is there for a reason, it's to set people's expectations and ensure that both sides are having those expectations met. Webtoon creators suffer from the same thing that a lot of Youtube creators and other types of content creators suffer from in this transition, and I feel like HBomberGuy summed it up best:

"In current discourse, Youtubers simultaneously present as the forefront of a new medium, creative voices that need to be taken seriously as part of the 'next generation of media' - and also uwu smol beans little babies who shouldn't be taken seriously when they rip someone off and make tens of thousands of dollars doing it."

It's not gatekeeping a medium, it's not telling people they aren't allowed to have feelings or to want to still have that personal connection to their work in spite of the professional level it's achieved, it's simply just expecting people to actually live up to the label of 'professional' that they're using to make money.

And this especially goes for someone like Rachel, who claims to be a 'folklorist' despite all the contrary evidence that says otherwise. This is the same person who copy pasted the first result on Google as her source on a simple word definition:

There's a second part to that HBomberGuy quote that also actually applies to Rachel really well in this discussion, concerning how she labels herself a "folklorist" and how that's affected and influenced the greater discussion surrounding Greek myth:

"But on the opposite end, Youtubers who act like serious documentarians gain a shroud of professionalism which then masks the deeply unprofessional things they do. We just saw that with James. I think [James] partially got away with what he's doing for so long because he acts so professional about it, so people assume, 'there's no way he could just be stealing shit!' so they don't check. And on top of that, a lot of James' videos contain obvious mistakes and made-up facts... but because they're often presented next to well-researched stuff he stole, no one questions it. I've seen James repeat a lie in his videos, and then other people claim it's true, and link his video as the proof. He has helped to solidify misinformation by seeming like he's doing his diligence."

There's always going to be discourse over what's legitimate and what isn't when it comes to Greek myth, there are loads of things we still don't know simply due to the knowledge being lost to time. But there's something to be said about a white New Zealand woman using her self-insert romance comic and platform to build a veneer of professionalism and legitimacy around herself, as if she's the authority on the subject, while simultaneously relying on first result Google searches and citing works that have no real foothold in the way of scholarly or "folklorist" discussion.

All that's to say, you're right, her professional training is vague at best. She's never completed a longform comic prior to LO, she's not doing her due diligence in actually engaging with the media she's trying to "retell" and exposing herself to the voices of those from the culture that's tied to it, and she's not holding herself to any sort of standards when it comes not only to being a professional, but a professional who's been held on a pedestal for all these years. She's still operating the same way she was 5 years ago - drawing and writing whatever pops into her head and sending it to her editor for uploading, with next to no intervention or guidance. Except now it doesn't have the benefit of being new and having "potential", it's getting noticed and called out more now than ever because it's been 5 years of this shit and it's been getting worse on account of her clearly being burnt out (or just giving up/not caring) and the readers can't be sold on "potential" anymore.

And that's all I have to say on that.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical

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