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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

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“I ate paint once,” Danny nonchalantly threw out in the middle of game night.

The entire table stopped. Heads whipped towards Danny.

“Yeah, me too. Cardamom yellow was my favorite. Ugly as hell but the chemicals just tasted right.” Tim replied, using the distraction to nab some of Bruce’s money. Monopoly money, that is. Everyone’s heads snapped towards Tim, only Cass and Danny (who was part of the scheme) caught him cheating.

“Really? I think mine was those spray can blue cosmos paint. But that might have been more my thing for space than the actual taste.”

“WHY WERE YOU EATING PAINT?!” Dick asked, looking like he wanted to lunge over the table and shake Danny until he puked out paint. Bruce looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Tim?” Jason snickered.

“In my defense,” Danny grinned. “I was left unsupervised. Also, Steph, you owe me $24 in rent.”

“Ugh! I’m almost out of money! Can’t you loan me some, Alfred?”

“I am sorry, Miss Stephanie, you are not qualified for another loan. In fact, one of your properties is about to be confiscated as per the collateral agreement.”

“Noooo!” Stephanie made dramatic dying noises.

“What was your excuse, Timothy?” Damian asked, eyes glued to the board and determined to win the game.

“Hey, I was probably less supervised than Danny was.”

“Yeah,” Danny perked up. “My parents brought us down to their lab all of the time. Taught us a lot of stuff.”

“Really? Like what?” Duke asked, casually slapping away Tim’s sneaky hands.

“Oh, like what a rocket launcher sounded like up close! And how to build a laser gun! Oh! And what human organs looked like when they’re fresh!” Danny chirped, collecting his money from a stunned Stephanie’s hands. He looked up.

“Oh, don’t worry! I at least learned what not to do when it comes to lab safety. And we wore hazmat suits to protect ourselves from the radiation.” Danny smiled in a ditzy fashion as the table fell silent in a horrified manner. Cass tapped his arm amusedly, but allowed his bullshit to stand. After all, it’s not like he lied.

“Radiation?” Duck’s voice raised a couple of octaves. Oh yeah, Danny’s going to laugh about that pitch for a long while.

“Organs?!” Jason’s hands closed around the plastic house he was holding rather forcefully.

“Do you even know what basic lab safety practices are, Danny?” Damian demanded, finally looking up with brows furrowed. He rolled the dice and grabbed a mystery card. He gets $100 from Alfred.

“How old were you??” Duke asked.

“Like… 8, when they first brought me in?”

“Eight.” Bruce rumbled, slipping into a more Batman like persona. When Danny sent him a confused look, Bruce straightened back into his Bruce persona. “Wow, they must have trusted you a lot!”

“Sure?”

“What were their names again?” Stephanie asked sweetly, Cass nodding at him.

“Jack and Maddie Fenton.” Not that they’ll find them here, considering his parents are dead and in another universe.

“Cool, cool, cool!” Stephanie blinked, beaming as her hands formed lethal fists underneath the table.

Danny blinked and tilted his head in an unassuming way, pretending like he had no idea what Stephanie was thinking of. He sneakily handed over $600 to Cass in order to complete his monopoly on his side of the board.

Danny stood up and spread his hands out, one hand clutching his new found victory.

"Well, lady and gents, you've all been floundering against the inevitable tide of capitalism. I am here, as a reminder that you can never win against the hopelessness that will be your financial ruin! I, Danny Fenton, have obtained a quarter of the board and therefore have won against even your best efforts!" He cackled, holding up his fan of properties triumphantly. He shot a mischievous grin at Cass, who held up a solemn thumbs up in support for his monetary takeover.

"... Danny, are you... planning on a career in villainy?" Bruce asked, after a brief and total wave of shocked silence. Damian looked like he was having a conniption at having been bested, unknowingly. Yeah, Danny was disarming like that.

"Yeah, that was concerning." Tim piped up, nabbing a ten from a shell-shocked Damian.

"Hey! The Riddler gives surprisingly good monologues! And he's really loud, so it's hard not to pick up on things. Duke, your turn." Danny sat back down, pouting. The villainy comment was a little too close to his fears.

"Damn it." Duke, who had rolled, landed smack middle of Danny's territory. He handed over a sheaf of bills to a grinning Danny.

"Wait a minute! You have cheated!" Damian bolted upwards from his seat, finally done running through the purchases he remembered Danny making. "You acquired that property not within the games' rules!"

"Okay, first of all, the rule book is a suggestion, like lab safety rules," Danny saw the others open their mouths to protest, but he quickly shut it down. "Second, there's totally no rules about selling and buying places from a private owner so suck on it. And thirdly? Cass sold it to me, so you all can take it up with her."

"Diabolical!" Damian muttered indignantly.

"... Dammit." Dick sighed, falling back into the chair and balancing on its two legs. He couldn't say anything, considering his current of bankruptcy.

"Danny. Danny, I'll buy a property from you." Jason said, eyeing one of Danny's other properties near his own cluster.

"What do you have that would interest me?" Danny asked, falling back into his Vlad-like imitation.

"Ew, don't do that," Steph reached over to jab him in the arm.

"Yeah, Jason, what do you have?" Duke said, the lovely subtle instigator that he is.

"Red Hood's signature."

The others blue-screen, gaping at the actual audacity Jason had to offer up something that would take him no effort. Danny, prepared with a poker face that came with lying straight to Jazz's ever perceptive eyes about whether he nabbed the last of her ice cream or not, was prepared.

"Red Hood? The condom guy working out of the... um. Upper East Side?" Danny asked, pretending to hesitate. He knows where Jason operated. That doesn't mean he couldn't simply pretend otherwise. For science, of course.

...

The table howled with laughter, Jason's indignant spluttering unable to say anything against Danny's wide eyed look of innocence. Cass leaned against the table, chuckles falling out of her mouth and eyes crinkled in mirth. Dick had fallen out of his chair, helplessly wheezing on the floor. Duke is hiding his face in his hands, mirroring Bruce's pose as they both shake from silent laughter. Damian is smirking, wicked and sharp as he smugly stared at Jason. Stephanie and Tim are leaning against each other, repeating "the CONDOM GUY" in alternating and increasingly louder voices. Alfred had a smile on his face and a tight grip on the bills in front of him that betrayed his amusement.

"He's a crime lord!" Jason exclaimed, indignant.

"Uh, okay. Well, I mean, why would I want a crime lord's signature? I don't want to be on his radar. Or echolocation or whatever. He's... a Bat, right? That's what you guys call that group, yeah?"

"How do you know the Rogues better than the vigilantes?!" Jason glared at his unhelpful family. Those assholes better prepare for a load of rubber bullets the next time they're on patrol near Crime Alley.

"Hey, it's not my fault the vigilantes here are unsociable. Maybe if they monologued more, I'd know who they are."

"Wouldn't- wouldn't that make them more villain like?" Tim asked, stuttering from his laughter.

"I dunno?" Danny replied, enjoying his the family's unabashed joy. "I mean, they're pretty legit and they help people already so I guess they don't need to be sociable... but still I swear I haven't heard anything about Batman other than that he grunts and is mean towards criminals."

Is mean towards criminals, Duke mouthed at a recovering Dick who was in the process of heaving himself back up. It sent him careening back down to the floor with restrained giggles. Cass tapped Danny, reminding him to eat some food.

"Tt. Of course not. They're efficient at their jobs and have no need to be seen as welcoming to criminals." Damian puffed up.

"Yeah, but they've gotta feel safe, right?" Danny shrugged as he plucked a cookie from the cookie platter. "The... one with the sword, what was it?"

"Robin." Damian supplied, eyes narrowed and trained on him.

"Yeah, the baby bird. The kids think his swords are cool so they trust him. But like, the others? The flippy blue one? Not so much."

"Wait," Dick said from the floor. "They don't trust Nightwing?"

"Nah, they trust him to protect them, but he has a history of bringing the kids to the police, you know?"

"What's wrong with that?"

Danny shrugged. "ACAB. But also because everybody knows that half the guys in the GCPD and CPS are child traffickers."

"Wait, what?" Jason and Tim straightened.

Bruce piped in, the emotional whiplash of amusement to concern to amusement to concern visibly making itself known on the man's baffled face. "I thought Batman and Commissioner Gordon took care of that?"

"Sure, the obvious ones." Danny hesitated. Well, he's pretty sure they think he's a meta so... "There's... a meta trafficking ring that they're a part of. That's. That's kind of what I was running from."

Danny looked up pleadingly. Cass placed a hand on his arm in comfort, not knowing that he was fibbing about running from them.

Danny was on the streets helping his own Alley metas to run from them.

Danny is as feral as she was, and that meant he could hide just as much as she could read off of him. Cass was the best and he felt kind of bad about lying to her, successfully or not.

"Uh. Some people said you know Batman, Bruce. I know- uh, that might not be the case but if you do, could you ask him to look into it?" Danny made his eyes tear up. "And maybe he wouldn't care about me much, I mean, I know he doesn't really like metas but if he helps out, I could totally like, leave the city once the kids are safe, promise."

Ooh, Danny put a little too much sincerity into that. He could practically hear the hearts breaking in the game room as everyone glared at Bruce.

"You won't have to leave."

"... Promise?" And Danny's voice was a little too desperate, too hopeful, because Bruce's eyes tugged down in sadness.

"Promise." He rumbled, all Bruce Wayne and all Batman. Danny's core warmed. Danny also saw the rest of the family's faces darken in pure agreement. And partial wrath.

"Yeah! We'll kick Batman's ass if he even thought about kicking you out!" Stephanie proclaimed.

"He's far more proficient in combat than you are, Brown." Damian immediately leapt to Batman's defense and that was that.

Well, later, as Danny was "sleeping" and Phantom was hovering in the cave, invisible and intangible, he got confirmation that his Alley meta kids were going to be safe, soon.

After all, the entire Batclan was suiting up and baying for blood, with Oracle's all encompassing presence behind them, fingers reaching for their enemies' weak points.

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andsomemaniacgotridofthewheel · 7 days

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Dear Good Omens fandom friends,

can we please agree to keep our sand in our sandbox?

We have a great sandbox. It's big and full of people building castles and villages and roads and stuff. Some of that is big and complicated and detail-oriented, some of it is strange and weird and funny, some if it is off-the-rails in any and all senses of the word. All of it is lovely. Some of it tries to rebuild Neil Gaiman's sandcastle as faithful as possible, either to build onto it or to try and find out where the secret rooms might be hidden. Some of it looks a lot like his but has its own little turrets and courtyards and gardens added everywhere. Some of it looks completely different and doesn't try to hide it. Some of it isn't even meant to be taken seriously and just exists to make people laugh. But there is so much of it that everybody can find something for themselves; and if we don't we just find a free space and start shifting sand ourselves.

Neil Gaiman has his own sandbox. He has built something brilliant and beautiful in it, and he is currently busy building another storey onto it. He doesn't want anybody to see the new part before it is finished, and I know that sometimes the excitement of finally wanting to see it is hard to bear.

But that is why we have our sandbox. To make our own stuff until he reveals the rest of that sandcastle we all love so much. To pass the time, to have fun with it, to meet new people and find more brilliant little sandcastles. Never again will there be as much creativity, as much activity, as many people around in this sandbox than there is now, in the time before the last bit of his castle is revealed. I am sure most of us will be delighted and surprised at what he will have created. Some will be disappointed because they were expecting his sandcastle to look different, some will be disappointed because they saw a castle in our sandbox they liked much more, but most will be delighted because after all we came up with he will still have managed to surprise us.

Our sandbox. His sandbox.

The two are separated for a reason.

Because if you keep throwing sand into his box to get his attention, or keep trying to get a good look at what he is doing over there, or keep yelling at him to look over to ours and tell you which one looks like the one he is trying to make, or which one is the best, or how stupid one of the others looks (last one would also make you a dick), you are quite simply risking the new part of his sandcastle to collapse. Or for him to have to remake it in a way he didn't plan to, or simply dislikes, or that we will all dislike.

And just because he is glad we are enjoying ourselves and proud that his work inspired us to create all these things, doesn't mean he wants to see (all of) it. Some things he definitely wouldn't want to see; other things the creators definitely don't want him to see.

I'm proud of our sandbox. It's huge. It's brilliant. It's creative. It's collaborative. And it's ours.

Have fun in it. But keep it apart from his. Keep out of his. And keep him out of ours. Stop trying to drag him over. He has stuff to do. Important stuff. Stuff I, for one, am waiting very impatiently for.

And he will never show us the parts of the castle that aren't finished yet, no matter how often you ask. And just because he is making an effort to be funny about it doesn't mean we aren't annoying him when we keep asking.

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beyonsatan · 10 months

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Here are some REAL astrological tips that I'm not just pulling out my ass and actually learned from reading

1. Aquarius is not ruled by uranus, aquarius is ruled by saturn. When astrologers discovered uranus they borrowed some of the traits of saturn and applied them to uranus because they didnt know what to do with this planet. Having strong uranus influence won't make you feel like an outsider but having a strong saturn influence will. Uranus does not rule "outcasts" or "obstruction" it rules sudden changes which we only associate with aquarius because of their eccentricity and the modern rulership of this sign, aquarius isn't as open to "change" as we would like to think they are, they're a saturn(restrictions) ruled fixed sign, they're more open minded and progressive than capricorn but they're more traditional and less accepting than we think pisces to be.

2. NO planet is unwelcome in the 5th and 11th house. Any personal planets in these houses including mars and saturn, especially the chart ruler is a sign of good fortune, wealth, successful investments and just an easy life in general because these houses are the joy of Venus and Jupiter, harmful planets here become neutralized and instead work to our benefit even with difficult aspects. Ex: Someone with a 5th house saturn might work high paying government jobs or become some kind of authority(saturn) figure sometime within their life.

3. What you've been taught about the north and south node is wrong. The north node is not "underdeveloped traits" The north node represents "increase" while the south node represents decrease, not your comfort zone and this is according to hellenistic and ancient astrology. The north node represents the dragon head while the south node represents its tail. Wherever your north node(the head) is, is where there's an infatuation and/or otherwise increase of energy and experiences, the south node (the tail) is something you abandoned (and shouldnt have) so you could focus on your north node, it's not necessarily something you need to let go of because that's like saying the dragon cut his tail off so he could keep his head lol, the dragon doesn't need to cut his tail at all, his tail is what's helping send him into the right direction because how do you expect him to move without his tail? In this case the south node is something you can rely on to assist you when handling the topics of your north node, that's the whole point. If south node was something that we needed to dismiss or free ourselves from it, there wouldn't be a south node, the south node and north node exist with each other, they HAVE to co-exist

4. I don't really debate about which house system to use when reading your own chart or others but when reading transits, synastry and composite charts, I strongly recommend using WS to make things alot less confusing.

5. The moon is a significator of money in alot of the same ways venus and jupiter are that's why the moon gets exalted in taurus. Moon in Taurus, Pisces, Sagittarius or Libra in the 3rd (house joy), 5th or 11th house is an indicator of wealth.

6. When outer planets transit your cadent houses please don't have a breakdown, planets in cadent houses have the weakest influence within a person's chart.

7. The houses responsible for fame are realistically the 5th, 7th house, 10th and 11th house and everything starts with the 5th house. Explanation: 5th house is the talent you have, the 11th house is your audience, you bring the talents you build upon in the 5th house for the world to see over into the 11th house, the 7th house is your relationship to law and the public, partnerships etc, if you wanna get contracts like a partnership with the NBA or picked to star in a movie, all of this would take place in the 7th house, the 10th house is the brand and image you cultivate after your name gets around from the 7th house, this house talks about your peak, how well did you do? Did you make it big? Planets here, where it's ruler is/and aspects will color all of this. Honorable mention is the 1st house cause the 1st house like the 10th house is angular and says alot about whether eyes are on you, do you get attention, are you an extrovert, are you confident or is building up those kind of things difficult for you, all of this gets answered in the 1st house.

8. Do not let any amateur astrologers gaslight you into thinking that having 8th or 12th house placements make you spiritual, spirituality gets its meaning from the 9th house and the 11th house where jupiter finds joy, planets in the 8th and 12th house is NOT for the weak and I don't mean to sound arrogant, I have 12th house placements and I'm aware that the 12th house doesn't get its meaning from pisces or jupiter, sprutuality is meant to be a good thing, planets in these houses is not a good thing so it is not wise to draw proximity there

9. Both Venus/ Jupiter and it's aspects is an indicator of marriage, the sign they're in, house placement and aspects will tell you more about your spouse (venus if you're attracted to women and jupiter if you're attracted to men)

10. Debilitated or fallen planets are liberated or in accidental dignity when in the angular houses or the 5th and 11th. Yes this counts for retrograde planets as well even tho i don't count retrogrades as a debilitaty. Think of them as having "redemption arcs" like negan from the walking dead, started out evil or In bad condition but it got better real fast or the challenges with that placement are easy to overcome. Ex: aquarius sun in the 1st house, aquarius is obviously debilitated under the sun because the sun and saturn are enemies and aquarius gets overwhelmed by the attention and self expression that comes with the sun but with the sun in the 1st house that luminary becomes apart of you, it's literally influencing your physical body and how you behave, with the sun here you have no trouble expressing yourself and actually like attention, so it's like having a leo rising but alot more intense

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molsno · 1 year

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I don't think there's enough discussion of the transmisogynistic voyeurism that's extremely widespread in online spaces. it's definitely a problem offline too but it's become significantly more pervasive and inescapable online.

transmisogynistic voyeurism is an obsession with trans women's internal lives. while traditionally it's usually been focused on our bodies, hormones, sexualities, transitions, and other such aspects that portray us as exotic, artificial, hypersexual mimics of "real" women (this is still largely the case among conservatives), it's taken on a new form in the past several years as society's understanding of transness has slowly improved.

in more recent years, the fascination with trans women and transfemininity, particularly in purportedly progressive spaces, has shifted to focus on the "artificiality" of our womanhood from a sociocultural perspective, rather than from a biological and sexual perspective.

it's become common to see screenshots from 4chan and other similar communities of trans women or transfem eggs posting about their unusual kinks, often with racist or antisemitic undertones. screenshots of ostensibly closeted trans women being transphobic to openly trans people have become commonplace. whenever a trans woman is revealed to be racist or a sexual predator, she becomes the new topic du jour, where everyone has to weigh in and publicly disavow her actions.

you might be thinking, what's the problem with this? after all, shouldn't we be holding racists, antisemites, transphobes, and sexual predators accountable? and while the answer to that question is an unambiguous, resounding "yes!", the problem here is the unusual focus on trans women in particular, and the fact that what's happening doesn't even remotely resemble accountability.

bigotry is not a uniquely transfeminine trait. anyone can be a bigot. however, by and large, even supposed trans allies, people who put "trans women are women" and "terfs dni" in their bio, still secretly see trans women as fundamentally male, due to having been "male socialized" (a notion which very strongly contradicts our own lived experiences). thus, when they see post after post after post of trans women being bigoted, it reifies tme people's beliefs that we are all holders of male privilege who have never had to face oppression before coming out as trans.

this idea is problematic for a number of reasons. first, it denies the experiences of trans women who have been oppressed by other systems before coming out as trans. for example, multiple times in just the past few weeks, I've seen trans women of color accused of being racist, even against people of their own race; as if having to face racism all their lives wasn't bad enough, now they're assumed to be perpetrators of it. however, this idea also ignores the very real effect that transmisogyny has had in shaping our lives, even when we didn't know we were trans ourselves.

when we attempt to talk about this topic - the perception that tme people have of trans women being uniquely bigoted, we are by and large brushed off as seeking to "excuse the actions" of bigoted trans women so that we can be bigoted ourselves. this abject refusal to actually engage with what we are saying to instead paint us as the very people we're constantly made to publicly disavow lest we face social ostracization (even if we have no idea who said people even are) further reifies the stereotype of us as privileged men.

I want you to imagine for a moment if trans men were subjected to this kind of voyeurism instead. on an average day scrolling through tumblr, you'd see a post of a trans man's nsfw blog where he shares posts about how rape should be legal, right alongside his bloodplay and cannibalism kink posts, accusing trans men of normalizing rape and murder. another post would show a screenshot of the trans guy who proclaimed to have been hitler in a past life, accompanied by comments demanding trans men take responsibility by purging their community of people like him. you'd scroll down a little further and see a screenshot of a terf blog with "dysphoric female" in bio where they complain about how a trans man they know has been brainwashed by "gender ideology" with all of the comments hoping they figure out their gender identity but still vehemently disavowing them and asserting they would feel unsafe around such a person even after coming out.

the reason that doesn't happen is because biological essentialism runs rampant even in queer spaces. trans men, who were afab, are often presumed to be incapable of harm due to having been "female socialized". trans men don't have their kinks publicly shared to paint them as dangerous because they're generally assumed to be victims of sexual violence, not perpetrators. trans men aren't collectively held accountable for the actions of one trans man they don't even know because a trans man doing harm is believed to be an anomaly, and thus can be dealt with on an individual basis. that last example is especially laughable, because trans men who were formerly terfs are often lauded as heroes for sharing their stories and offered condolences for having been victims of "cult brainwashing".

the fact that this kind of voyeurism does happen to trans women is because, having been amab, we are presumed to be the perpetrators of harm rather than victims. that's not to say that trans women can't be bigoted or dangerous; clearly they can, or else this kind of voyeurism couldn't exist in the first place.

trans women can be racist, trans women can be antisemitic, trans women can be transphobic, trans women can be sexual predators, and so on. these things are all true. however, they are not more likely to be true of trans women than of other demographics. that's the point I'm trying to make here.

stop and consider for a moment, what accountability actually means. are racist, antisemitic trans women being held accountable when you share screenshots of the bigotry they post anonymously on 4chan? does that screenshot you reblogged of an assumed transfem egg being transphobic to an out trans person hold them responsible for their transphobia? is that racist trans woman who's a convicted sexual predator sentenced to prison being held accountable when you share detailed documentaries about her crimes? are they facing consequences for their actions because of you raising awareness about them?

in the vast majority of cases, the answer is no. what's really happening is that you're raising outrage about trans women, and demanding that all of us publicly disavow and distance ourselves from them, even when we have no idea who they are, so that you won't come after us next. you're upholding the idea that trans women hold a "male privilege debt" that we can never fully repay but must endlessly strive to repay regardless. this obsession with our perceived socially male traits has got to stop.

#txt #transmisogyny #my writing #sorry this is so long I know people are gonna take this in the worst faith possible and I had to debunk all their counterpoints in advance #1k

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endless-ineffabilities · 10 months

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sapphire-hearted (part two)

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

After his betrayal, the reader is determined to forget about Aemond. But her attempts at entertaining a potential suitor seem to be thwarted at every turn, by none other than... who else?

themes/warnings: jealous!Aemond, angst, third (and fourth) parties involved but not really

part one - part three - masterlist

a/n: the title changed, yes! Also, can you believe I actually thought this would remain a mere oneshot? But no, I got hungry for more angst and jealousy and all the good stuff. Much love to all my fellow angst lovers for breathing new life into this fic!

When the whispers started, you knew they would eventually reach Aemond.

You were rumoured to be entertaining Lord Ramsay Beesbury, the youngest son of the late Lord Lyman Beesbury.

His older brother, Braxton, was your initial suitor many moons ago. But you refused him, of course. For a certain one-eyed prince.

Lord Braxton had been the one who became Lord of Honeyholt after his father and he has just recently taken a wife. Unlike his father, however, he opted to side with the Greens and to back Aegon's claim.

Ramsay began to seek you out himself, not long after finding out that you are now more receptive to marriage proposals.

Everyone knew. Well, it seems that way, at least. It is common knowledge that you and Aemond were closer than to be expected of mere friends. Any Lord who might ask for your hand knew not to expect to be met with warmth and eagerness. They tried anyway, and failed.

Because each time, and without even needing to say so, they knew that you were choosing Aemond.

"I don't know why you would think that," you lie with a sweet smile, when Ramsay presents his concern about you and Aemond. "Prince Aemond and I are acquaintances, and that is all there is to it."

"Oh." Ramsay smiles, evidently pleased with your response. "My lady, I am glad to be spending this afternoon with you here in the gardens. After some time, I would hope that we can join our Houses, as humble as mine might be." He averts his eyes shyly. Ramsay is surely a gentle lad, as far as you have seen.

"You need not be concerned, my lord. My House is just as humble. But we make do, don't we? At the very least, we do not have to busy ourselves with all the politicking the more nobler Houses seem to get into."

"That is true, my lady." He grins, and you notice lines burst around his eyes, though he is merely five and twenty. Ramsay has spent a life imparting and partaking in laughter.

Unlike a certain sullen, brooding Targaryen. Could you get used to Ramsay? Surely. Could you love him? Perhaps so.

"So what shall we do on the morrow?" Ramsay closes the distance between the two of you on the bench, and his knees brush against yours under your skirts. He takes your hands in his, "I propose - "

He stops, his head whipping to the side, looking toward the treeline.

"What is it, my lord?" you ask, looking in the same direction. But you see nothing.

"I thought I heard something." He whispers, then looks again to you. "Where were we - "

"Fine weather we're having." You nearly jump out of your skin in surprise, as Ramsay is interrupted yet again. Aemond stands about a foot away from your bench, hands clasped behind him in usual commanding stance.

"My prince." Ramsay stiffens, your hands still held in his. You see that Aemond's attention has been drawn to this, his lips curling in distaste.

You both rise from the bench. Ramsay is no longer touching you, but still stands close.

Closer than Aemond would like. His hand clenches into a fist behind his back. He muses about whether it is unbecoming for a Targaryen prince to sock a young Lord in the jaw unprovoked.

He does not much care either way.

"It is, indeed," Ramsay says. "Which is why I thought to take the Lady out for a walk in the gardens."

"And a fine idea it was," you add, purposefully looping your arm around Ramsay's. "It's best that Lord Ramsay and I get to know each other well, if we are to wed soon."

Aemond decides not to punch the young Lord Beesbury. Not just yet. Clearly you're provoking him and he is not going to give you the satisfaction.

"A wedding in the middle of war?" Aemond hums. "Do you not think such a union foreshadows plenty of discontent and strife, my lady?"

You scoff, "Oh, what does it matter? When will we ever not be in a war, in some form or another? That should not stop us from marrying whom we please. From loving whom we please."

Loving. Love. Aemond's heart sinks. You mention love in front of him, when you have yourself wrapped around another man. One whom you plan to wed.

How can you speak of love, when you are planning to sacrifice it? Aemond might transgress with Alys, but at least he is doing it for the realm. For you.

Is he not? Then why does it seem like he is losing you?

Ramsay beams to Aemond, "My lady is truly clever, is she not, my prince?"

"She is." Aemond genuinely agrees. He only has eyes on you, running over the planes of your face which he has committed to memory, all those nights of watching you sleep next to him. He looks upon you with longing.

With love.

For a moment, everything feels right. You and your love gaze upon each other, all else forgotten. Your arm slides down from Ramsay's in your brief reverie.

Then Ramsay clears his throat. "What are you doing here, Prince Aemond? Can we help you with anything?"

"Oh, I don't think you can," Aemond says pointedly, clearly pleased with himself.

"P-pardon me?"

You interrupt the exchange, your voice icy, "Not busy today, my prince? No plans of battle to discuss? Grand spells to concoct?"

"No." Aemond merely shakes his head. "I've no use for those at the moment."

"What a surprise," you sneer.

Ramsay glazes over your mention of spells, thinking he misheard things. He then addresses Aemond, "It seems that the tides have turned toward our favour, my prince. The Greens' favour. I can only hope that the aid my House provides has played a part, albeit small."

Aemond does not mince his words, disdain clear in his voice when he says, "Surely the barrels of honeyed wine that your great House provides has been crucial in advancing our cause, my Lord. If you yourself possessed any mettle, then you would be out there in the battlefield. Instead you sit here in the gardens, wasting your days trying to covet something of mine. "

Unbelievable. Your mouth nearly falls open in shock at his demeanour. "Aemond..."

"I need to speak with you, my lady."

"I am occupied at the moment, my prince." You respond through gritted teeth.

"It's alright," Ramsay nods to you, clearly disheartened. But he holds his ground, and bravely takes your hand in his. Completely aware that Aemond watches, he leans down and plants a kiss on the back of your hand, eyes on yours the entire time.

Aemond feels his restraint dissipating, hanging on by the flimsiest of threads.

"Come with me," Aemond takes your hand, the very same which Ramsay just kissed, and begins pulling you away and walking towards the tall hedges.

You can feel his thumb brushing against your knuckles, as if trying to eliminate any trace of Lord Ramsay.

"Stop - " you say, but to no avail.

When Ramsay is no longer in your line of sight, you pull your hand from Aemond's grip. "What is wrong with you? Ramsay did nothing to deserve that."

"Ramsay," Aemond rolls his eye. His shoulders are stiff, and you can easily tell he is angry.

"I should go find him, and apologize for your behaviour. Clearly you will not."

"I do not need to apologize for anything to that weak-willed, little - "

"Then apologize to me," you interject, voice breaking.

"Whatever for?" He reaches for you, but you stand still. Doing nothing as his hand cradles your face.

"For everything... for being with someone else... for not choosing me."

"But I choose you. I always - "

"You chose Alys."

His face scrunches at that. Aemond thinks that he did not choose Alys, he merely chose to use her powers for his gain. But it will never be her over you.

"Just apologize to me," you shrug. "Or don't. It does not change anything. We can soon set all of this behind us."

You watch him intently, drinking in every slight change in his expression. The curve of his lips. The way his eyelashes brush against his skin when he looks down.

If you have to let him go, you will always want to remember him. To remember everything.

He says nothing for the longest time, just holding your face in his hands.

Until you step away. His arms fall to his sides.

"I have to choose Ramsay, Aemond. I have to do this for myself," you say.

Still, nothing. His gaze is trained downward, and he feels helpless as he can feel you slipping away from him.

You finally muster up the strength to say goodbye, "I'll be seeing you, my love."

Your feet feel heavy as you walk away, crunching against the small rocks on the path.

"What if we were to wed? What then, hmm?" He suddenly says, making you stop in your tracks.

He continues, "Will you choose me?"

Will Aemond finally give up Alys? Will he marry the reader even if it will be frowned upon and seen as an unfit union? *shrugs* you tell me

Will Aegon make an appearance in part three? *nods* yes. Yes, he will.

In my mind, Ramsay is played by Callum Turner or Jonah Hauer-King. Just a thought. Aemond's got some competition *laughs evilly*

I hope I managed to include everyone in the taglist!! If not, just let me know 🖤

taglist: @immyowndefender @bellameshipper @aemondswifeisme @bash1018 @fuck-the-reaper @shessthunderstoms @aemondsbabygirl @melsunshine @youtoldalie @snh96 @noxytopy @ellooo0ooo @brianochka @not-a-glad-gladiator @mac95650 @whitejuliana1204 @midnightmystic @saminalloxo @oh-no-tia @magnificentsapphiresoul @clara-geekhime @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen one shot

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tallulah477 · 4 months

Text

Pretty, But Not Stupid

Extra of Hunting the Tawtute

Kinkmas Day 10: Breath Play

Pairing: Lo’ak x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: AgedUp!Lo’ak, Dark!Lo’ak, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Breath Play, Choking, Size Difference, Alien Genitalia, Oral (male receiving), P in V, Belly Bulge, Creampie, Scenting, Mention of knots (but no knotting yet), Slight threesome (and Dark!Neteyam), Mentions of death/dead bodies, Reader is not having a good time (although idk...i think she’s having a great time), Mentions of war

A/N: Guess who’s back, besties!! Been MIA, slacking on prompts, and about to lose my fucking mind with all my family around, but I somehow got this done and I’m about to read as many fics as I can before someone else demands my attention.

A/N 2: This was not intended to be a full Part 2 yet, but it's way too long to be called a drabble. So I’m calling it an extra for now until I decide what to call it lmao. Hope y’all like it 🧡

A/N 3: DEDICATED TO @oakbuggy AND THEIR AMAZING ARTWORK (Everyone stop reading and go look at their art rn, all of them are god-tier but the one for Hunting the Tawtute definitely holds a special place in my heart. Thank you again, Buggy! You're amazing!)

Summary: With their father’s impending retirement as Olo’eyktan, Neteyam has more responsibilities to the clan and less time to see his favorite human. Thankfully, Lo’ak is there to pick up the slack.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Vrrtep - Demon

Tawtute - Human

Sevin - Pretty

Palulukan - Apex predator resembling a lion or panther

(Mountain) Banshee/Ikran - Large, dragon-like aerial predators

Mawey - Calm

Narlor - Beautiful

Tam tam - Calm, be content, there there

Srane - Yes

Yawne - Beloved

Paskalin - Sweet berry (term of endearment)

Their father is stepping down as clan leader - at least that’s what Lo’ak tells you when he comes to visit you in the isolated hut the brothers have set up for you on the side of a cliff face. It was for your own protection, they told you. You couldn’t stay in the village yet, their father would never allow it, and you clearly couldn’t be trusted not to run away if they built you something on the forest floor.

“Tawtutes with their tiny brains are stupid,” Neteyam had sneered as he hauled your combined weight up the cliff side. Your arms locked around his neck tightly, legs wrapped around his lithe torso as your eyes squeezed shut, determined not to look at the insane height you were being pulled to. “You might think to run away and then become the next meal of a hungry Palulukan.”

“Nah, bro,” Lo’ak said, the grin on his face audible in his teasing words as he climbed up the cliff behind you, ready to catch you if you decided to end it all right there and try your hand at plummeting to your death, no doubt. “Our little vrrtep would never run from us. Right, sevin?”

The hut they built for you was as cozy as it could be. Assembled further into the cave and away from the treacherous cliff side, thick material wrapped around sturdy posts to keep out any harsh weather that the cave itself couldn’t keep out. They’d given you plenty of blankets, assuring you that even though your human nose can’t smell it, their scent is all over them.

“To keep you smelling like us, when we can’t be here to do it ourselves.”

But they’re always around, day after day they come for you. Lo’ak grinning a deceivingly sweet smile and Neteyam’s amber eyes burning holes into your face as they grab at you, pulling you towards them as they all but rip off the loincloth and chest covering they gave you, baring your marked up body to their hungry gazes. They spread you open, fucking you and fucking you until you’re a crying overstimulated mess, drooling and teary under your mask as they fill you up.

They know exactly how to touch you, where to press, where to rub, where you’re most sensitive. They learned how to play with your body better than you could ever know how, dragging orgasm after orgasm out of your trembling, exhausted body until your left limp and they’ve decided they’ve had enough for the day.

Your body still struggles to take their cocks (although they love to tell you that you were made for it - “made to be our little cocksleeve”). Your only saving grace is that they’re still not sure if they can knot you. They’ve gotten close to trying, instincts desperate to push that large ball of tissue at the base of their cocks inside your already stuffed to the brim pussy. You feel how they test the resistance, pushing juuuusttt a little deeper, the swollen knot stretching you even farther than you ever thought you could stretch before they back off.

When they fill you full of their cum, it’s with their own hand squeezing tightly around the knot.

Usually, it’s both of them. This time, you’re shocked to see only Lo’ak climbing over the edge of the cliff.

“Neteyam sends his regrets,” Lo’ak says, kneeling down to wrap his arms around your body and press his face into your neck. His flat nose presses against your rapidly increasing pulse point and breathes in your scent. “He said to tell you that he’s sorry he won’t be able to visit you today, but that he’ll make sure to come see your pretty face and fill your tight pussy tomorrow.”

Your face flushes hot at his words, shivering when his nose slides up to nudge just behind your ear, but you stay silent.

“But that’s good news for me,” He continues. “Because that means I get you all to myself for tonight.”

Neteyam isn’t coming to visit you today because their father is stepping down as clan leader, which means increased training, more hours at council meetings, and less time to sneak off with his captive human.

“What does that mean?” You can’t help but ask. Lo’ak’s hands smooth down your sides, large palms dragging over your bare skin until they’re squeezing your ass. Your voice cracks at the feel, but you push on, your eyes doing their best to keep contact with his bright amber ones. “Your father stepping down? What does that . . .”

What does that mean for me?

“Nothing you have to worry about right now,” He says.

Without warning, he stands, pulling you with him so your legs wrap around his torso as he supports you with a hand on your ass. A loud yip rips from his throat, echoing through the cave as he walks you both towards the cliff’s edge. The responding roaring shriek makes you cower against him as the large dragon-like animal lands on the platform behind you, wings flapping hard against the wind.

“We’re going on an adventure,” Lo’ak says as he walks you closer to the banshee. You whimper, arms locking around his neck so tight you’d think you would be choking him if you could think straight. But you’re not, head whipped around staring wide eyed at the monstrous creature as it turns its head sideways to stare back at you.

“Lo’ak, no,” You beg through gritted teeth, but he ignores you as he approaches the banshee, his hand settling lovingly on its snout.

“Mawey,” he coos, carefully rubbing along the blue leathery skin on the banshee’s snout, but you’re not sure if he’s trying to calm the large animal or you. “Mawey, narlor,”

“Lo’ak, no,” You plead, still clinging to his upper body. Tears pool in your eyes and a panicked whimper escapes your lips when you feel the puffing breath of the mountain banshee on your back. “Please, please, no!”

But you’re ignored again, even when your body goes rigid at the feel of that rounded snout pressing against the curve of your spine, hot exhales practically burning your skin as the banshee sniffs at you. Fuck, fuck–you could die. Right now, you could die in a second, that snout pressing into your skin could disappear, replaced with dual rows of long curved teeth that would take only a second to open and bite down and rip you clean in half.

You can hear the smile in Lo’ak’s voice from where your mask is digging into his collarbone, his soft murmurs of encouragement loud even through your terrified thoughts. “Srane, tam tam. Look at my two beautiful girls, getting along so well.”

He moves swiftly, not leaving room for any more pleading as he bonds with his banshee and climbs on, bringing your clinging body with him. The rush of air as the large animal takes flight makes you squeeze Lo’ak tighter, desperate for safety as you feel the wind bat at your back as the banshee cuts through the sky like a bullet from a gun.

“Is this all it takes for you to cling to me, sevin?” Lo’ak teases as he rests a secure hand on your trembling figure, all five fingers spread so wide that they nearly span the entirety of your back. “A little ikran ride and I get you all cuddled up, nice and close?”

You ignore his dig, teeth clenching together as you fight to find your voice around the wind rushing around your ears. “W-where are we going?”

Lo’ak nudges his chin against the top of your head. “You’ll see,”

The flight feels like hours. Hours of watching miles and miles of trees and forest thousands of meters below from over Lo’ak’s shoulder. Logically, you know you’re exaggerating. It hasn’t been hours, and even though you’re still high enough to die as a splat on the ground if you were to fall, it's probably not as high as it feels. But heights have never been your friend, and frankly, neither has time management.

It’s only when the banshee lowers to the ground and Lo’ak dismounts, depositing you on your own two unsteady feet, that you realize where he’s brought you on your ‘adventure’.

Your mouth opens in horror at the remains of your old home. The RDA outpost, a once tall and strong fortress that housed the lives of hundreds of humans, now practically nothing more than a heap of rubble. The walls once meant to provide safety to those within them have crumbled down, victims of their own explosives used against them by the enemy. Debris lines the paved ground, thick boulders and metal platings that were once walls, bullet shells glinting in the sunlight. There’s a few AMP suits scattered around the battlefield - you can’t see inside them from your vantage point, and you’re terrified of what you might see if you get too close.

“This way, tawtute,” Lo’ak says, reaching for your hand, but you yank it away before he can grab it.

“No,” You say, but the firmness in your voice is overshadowed by the shakiness. “No, I’m not going in there.”

“Yes, you are,”

Another headshake. “No,”

Quick as lightning, his hand shoots out and grabs the bottom of your mask, gripping on the valve at the bottom as he bends down so his face is level with yours.

“Demon,” He growls, fangs on display for just a moment. A warning. “You are pretty, but not stupid. You do as I say.”

Fear claws at your throat and your hands immediately latch onto his wrist, silently begging for him to not pull your mask off. He never does, and neither does Neteyam. Not as a punishment at least. When they use your mouth, there’s always a warning - a “hold your breath, yawne,” before the air is cut off from your lungs and your mouth is full of alien cock. But the fear never leaves, the possibility is always there at the forefront of your mind, and you cling to his wrist like the lifeline it is.

Lo’ak’s face softens at your expression, grip loosening from your mask as his hand slides to cup the back of your neck. “You know I would never hurt you. You need to trust me,”

Hesitantly, you shake your head again. You’re pushing your luck, you know it. But you’ve learned Lo’ak is the more lenient of the brothers and will tolerate more ‘disobedience’ than Neteyam will. “I can’t,”

“Yes, you can. Nothing in there will hurt you. If anyone is left in there, they’re dead,”

And that’s the problem. The terror of facing the place where life as you knew it was ended in a heartbeat. If there’s still people in there, people you once knew, people you talked to, some people who were good, lying on the ground . . . lifeless . . .

In the end, it’s not a choice. Lo’ak sighs, pulling you back in his arms and cradling you to his chest like a toddler. You sniffle, eyes sliding shut, determined to not watch as he walks you towards the remains of the outpost.

It’s hard to admit, but being carried by the brothers can be really soothing if you let it. They move swiftly, with grace and confidence in every step, careful not to jostle you despite the usually uneven terrain of the forest. It’s even smoother now as Lo’ak walks across the flat pavement of the base. If you close your eyes, it can almost feel like you’re floating.

There’s a loud chu-chunk sound followed by the rapid hiss of air and the loss of sunlight behind your closed lids. You open your eyes to see that Lo’ak has found a still intact entrance, the airlock working to adjust the oxygen levels to whatever lies beyond the interior door. He smiles when the pressure stabilizes, opening the door and stepping into the inside of the base. This time, he doesn’t warn you when he pulls off your mask, the sound of escaping air hitting your ears, but you don’t choke. Instead you can breathe, deep complete breaths without the need for a mask covering your face.

Lo’ak wastes no time nuzzling his face against yours, sliding his cheek across every new inch of face and neck that he can comfortably reach, a deep content rumble vibrating through his chest.

Scenting you.

“I can smell you,” He whispers, lips pressing against your cheek. “Not just you right now, but where you were, where you’ve been, here, within these walls.”

“W-what?”

His feet carry him, guided by an old scent that you can hardly believe is here after so long. But it is, it has to be - you know the journey, have walked it hundreds of times during your time on Pandora, but you can’t imagine that Lo’ak would. You don’t think he ever went inside the outpost during the attack. He shouldn’t know that it's the second hallway instead of the first, shouldn’t know it’s two left turns and one right, and that your door is the 3rd on the left. But he does.

He even knows which bed was yours and which was your roommate’s, only confirmed when he drops you down onto the thin RDA issued mattress against the far side wall. You land with a yelp, bouncing slightly from the force of the drop, but your noise of surprise is cut off by Lo’ak’s lips against yours.

“Stupid humans,” He growls against your lips. “Can't even breathe air without help. Wish I could teach you, so I wouldn’t have to go without your pretty lips on mine every day.”

You whine into the kiss, his big lips nearly twice the size of yours as they capture your mouth completely. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you, but it’s the first time you can breathe while it happens.

He pulls away after a few more kisses, his breathing shallow as he reaches for something tied to his loincloth. It’s only then that you see the CO2 mask that’s been attached to his hip this whole time. He pulls the cross strap around his body, the mask hanging low on his chest and the CO2 canister hanging around his hip. He brings the mask to his face with one hand, taking in a few deep breaths, while the other hand works at the ties on his loincloth.

The material of his covering falls to the ground and he drops the mask in favor of gripping your chin, thumb rubbing soothingly across your cheek.

“Someone wants to play with you,” He purrs. “Be a good girl and invite him out, okay?”

Your breathing is shaky as you rise up on the bed, knees pressing into the mattress as you come face to face with the flat plane hiding Lo’ak’s cock. His hand moves to the back of your head, guiding you forward until your lips press against the smooth space between his thighs.

Experience has you knowing what to do now, how to hold onto his thighs with both hands to keep yourself steady as you pepper gentle kisses along the hidden slit. Lo’ak tips his head back at the feel of your tongue sliding along the seam, little teasing kitten licks against the engorging slit that are always from him demanding them, demanding the slower teasing buildup, rather than you being coy.

He pushes your face harder against him, hissing a ‘yeah, good girl. Like you fucking mean it,’ as he urges you to lick him deeper. When his slit opens, puffy and dripping, you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips as the sweet taste of his slick coats your tastebuds. It controls your body, whatever is in the slick. You feel it, making your body heat up, making you want things you definitely don’t - and you’re in the thick of it now, no mask or breathing breaks to cut whatever effects it usually has on you. It sets your body on fire now, making your thighs clench together as wetness pools in your core, and your brain fuzzes as the first touch of Lo’ak’s cock teases your lips as it starts to slip past the slit.

You don’t know how long he keeps you there, sucking his cock. He’s dragging it out, taking advantage of the rare opportunity he has now of you without your mask. He drags your mouth along his cock, staring down at you with hooded eyes and letting you suckle gently on the lavender tip. Sometimes he’ll growl, pushing you down harder on his length just to hear you gag when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. Other times he’ll pull you off completely, twisting your head so that your lips wrap around his girth from the side, before sliding you slowly back and forth along his length, tongue running over each and every bump and barb along the hot cerulean skin, the bright bioluminescent freckles decorating his cock practically shining under the layer of slick and saliva.

When he’s finally used you to tease himself enough, he pushes you back flat on the bed, large hands wrapping around your calves and pulling you closer so your ass is just barely hanging off the side. You whimper when he pulls your legs apart, ripping the soaked loincloth from your body, hungry amber eyes staring at your swollen, wet cunt.

“Such a pretty girl,” He moans. The tip of his cock slides along your folds, nudging against your clit before sliding back down and positioning at your entrance. “You ready?”

Your brain is fuzzy and your clit is throbbing, hole clenching with the need to be filled. You close your eyes, looking away from his intense gaze - you don’t want it, you try to remind yourself, you don’t, he’s making you. But a swift smack on your thigh makes your eyes fly open again, Lo’ak’s hard gaze seeming to cut into your very soul.

“Say it, demon. Wanna hear you say it,”

A small cry escapes your lips, body unconsciously trying to bear down on his cock even as you shake your head. He shifts forward just the tiniest bit, lavender tip just barely pressing against your drooling hole enough for it to start to stretch before stopping again.

“‘Need you, Lo'ak,” he recites, brow cocked, expecting you to repeat it. “Say it.”

“Fuck!” Is what comes out instead - a whiny, frustrated curse, that has your eyes tearing up again and Lo’ak’s ears pinning back against his skull.

His hand is quick to wrap around your throat, fingers digging into the blood vessels at the side of your neck as he hisses down at you. Your hands wrap around his wrist again, fingernails digging in and no doubt leaving red crescent shaped marks in the blue skin. He’s not squeezing your neck, not crushing your windpipe out of anger. You can breathe, the gulping breaths your gasping for are making it into your lungs, but the fingers pressing into the blood vessels make it feel like you can’t. Your head is clouding again, fuzzing like TV static, vision going blurry as his hand doesn’t relent.

“Fine,” He grunts. “You don’t wanna talk? Don’t.”

You want to scream when he pushes forward, cock bullying its way past your entrance and inside you, stretching you and filling you up. It’s slow and torturous as he fills you impossibly full, the barbs along his length scraping ruthlessly against your slick walls. He sighs, ears flicking in pleasure as your heat envelopes him, stretching around his girth so perfectly he swears you were made for him.

You can feel the bulge in your belly, the pressure disappearing and reappearing again as he begins to move inside of you. Long, purposeful strokes meant as a punishment, meant to make you feel every agonizingly blissful inch of him as he fucks into your soaked cunt, harder and harder with each thrust. Your mouth moves trying to form words, sound fleeting save for the barely there whispers of ‘fuck’, ‘oh my god’, and ‘please’. Lo’ak hears them anyway, leaning down to silence you with a filthy kiss. His hips pound against yours, unrelenting in their mission to completely fuck the soul of your body, and the sound of slapping skin against skin mix with Lo’ak’s groans and your barely audible breathy whines.

Lo’ak’s fingers find their way to your swollen clit, rubbing persistently at the sensitive nub until you're crying into his mouth, thighs trying desperately to close together but can’t because of his body between them. The thick press of his knot against your entrance is what pushes your oversensitive body over the edge.

At the first suffocating clench of your pussy around his cock, Lo’ak releases your throat letting all the air it felt like you weren’t getting back into your lungs in a rush of oxygen. You gasp, crying against his lips as you arch up against him, creaming pussy fluttering around him as you cum on his cock. He growls when your teeth latch onto his bottom lip, blunt teeth digging in enough to draw blood, but the way he immediately grabs your hips, shoving his knot against you as hard as he would dare without actually penetrating you, tells you that it was a lust filled growl this time, not an angry one.

He moans when he spills himself inside you, face pressed against your neck as he fills you up. You swear it feels almost scorching hot, heating you up from the inside and then out as it spills from around Lo’ak’s still buried cock and runs down the curve of your ass and onto the bed sheets.

Someone clears their throat from behind Lo’ak, and you gasp at the sudden sound, frantically trying to look around Lo’ak’s hulking body to see who it is.

Lo’ak sighs, undisturbed by sudden intrusion, even going as far as rolling his eyes before slowly pulling out of your used cunt - more of his cum spilling out onto the bed now that he’s not still inside you to keep it in. “Wasn’t expecting you today, bro,”

Your eyes widen when he moves out of the way, revealing a smug looking Neteyam in the doorway, still very much dressed up in his warrior’s gear.

“I had to make time to see our pretty little demon,” Neteyam says, bright amber eyes sweeping over your exhausted form. He crosses the room with three long strides, one knee pressing into the bed as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “That was a nice show. I know you’re tired, paskalin,”

His eyes meet yours, amber irises practically swallowed up by the blacks of his pupils. A hand presses against your belly, sneaking down towards your oversensitive pussy, his pointer finger reaching out to tap against your clit as you whine.

“But it’s really not fair that you smell more like Lo’ak than me now, is it?”

**Special thanks to @neteyamsyawntu for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @pandoraslxna @avatarwifey

#𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✎#Avatar12DaysofKinkmas #lo'ak smut #lo'ak x female reader #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x human reader #tw: noncon #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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hey-august · 5 months

Text

Negotiating with pirates | NSFW (Cross Guild x afab!reader)

Description: After accidentally ending up as a bargaining chip during Cross Guild negotiations, you eagerly accept the chance to protect your captain and end up between Mihawk and Crocodile.

Word count: ~2.6k

A/N: One shot smut. Reader has an established relationship with Buggy. Let me know if you see any errors or typos. ♡

Warnings: Not beta read. NC-17. → MDNI ← sub!reader, cuck!buggy, dom!mihawk, dom!crocodile. Threesome, PIV, oral m receiving, vaginal fingering, creampie. afab!reader, no use of Y/N. All parties are consenting adults.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A Cross Guild meeting was getting heated, more so than usual. A contract that failed under Buggy’s involvement was construed as debt the figurehead clown owed. An increasingly panicked Buggy offered anything to assuage the anger of his furious “companions” and to reduce any debt that they imposed on him.

“What do you have that we can’t get ourselves?” Sir Crocodile asked disdainfully. Buggy floundered. His mouth was faster than his mind, but there must be something he could offer. Propose. Promise.

“I can think of something he has…or should I say someone,” Mihawk remarked. This was an uncomfortable observation.

The trio rarely spoke about personal matters, and definitely never intentionally, however it wasn’t a secret that Buggy had a hook-up. A dedicated partner. This was a fact that the other two would say they didn’t care about. Truthfully, Mihawk had some thoughts. More like a passing interest in why - out of anyone else you could pick - were you with the clown. Maybe you didn’t know what else the world had to offer and this was his chance to show you.

The rest of the discussion, if you could call it that, happened in a blur. Buggy’s wavering voice was overpowered by the two former warlords negotiating on his behalf. When Buggy realized that he had become an accessory once again, he bounced in his seat, trying to alleviate the nervous energy flooding his body. The two commanding pirates set the place and time, which was not far from this moment. As the clown hurried out of the room, Crocodile called out a demand in a puff of smoke, telling Buggy to pick out your outfit.

“When we undress her, I want to be pulling off clothes that you picked out for us.”

Buggy’s panic took on a different tone as he seeked you out. You both had spoken about his cuckold fantasies, but never did anything to make them reality. And now…well it was a classic Buggy mistake. When he finally told you what happened, he had tears in his eyes. Even he doesn’t know if they’re from worry about how you’ll react or fear of what Mihawk and Crocodile will do if you disagree. Or maybe the tears held hopeful anxiety that you might go along with the plan.

Relief washed over Buggy when you agreed. It wasn’t his tears or trembling grasp that convinced you, but your adoration for the pirate clown. For once, you had power that could help him. Not only could this garner favor for your captain, but the heat in his shaky hands told you that he had a personal interest in this idea. You could benefit your captain and fulfill your partner’s fantasy, all while getting intimately familiar with some of the most powerful pirates around.

When the appointed time arrived, Buggy walked you to Mihawk’s quarters. He didn’t guide the way so much as herd you. The clown’s jittery nerves had him flitting around, caught in your orbit. Buggy was a one-man surround sound system - apologizing for putting you in this position, professing his love, telling you to not be nervous or scared, reminding you to say “lighthouse” if you needed to stop, calling you gorgeous, and whining about how hard he was already.

Buggy pulled open the door and let you step into the eagle’s nest first. Partly because you were the visitor they were waiting for, but also to watch how the skirt he chose flounced around your ass while you walked. Crocodile sat back on an ornate sofa, a hazy cloud of smoke circling his head. Mihawk stood nearby, closing whatever discussion they were having before you two arrived. The swordsman held out a hand, beckoning you to come closer. The atmosphere in the room was heavy. Intense. But the attention Mihawk sent your way felt lighter and inviting. When you placed your hand on his, it was the final piece of your confirmation to participate in this arrangement.

A pointed look from Mihawk and a dismissive wave from Crocodile sent Buggy slinking away to a seat on the far side of the room. You turned to watch your captain, but a slender finger on your chin stopped your movement. Mihawk turned your gaze back towards him as his golden eyes looked you up and down.

“Crocodile…” His companion grunted an acknowledgement, already aware of Mihawk’s thoughts.

“Clown, this is really the outfit you picked for us?” Crocodile said, clearly displeased with your attire.

To be fair, it wasn’t particularly sexy or revealing. It was one of your normal outfits, maybe a little more composed than others. It fit well and flattered your figure. You chimed in before Buggy could speak, wanting to divert negative attention away from him.

“What’s wrong with it?”

Following Mihawk’s hesitation, you grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand under your top, letting him graze your bare breast. He squeezed firmly, his touch cool against the heat you were radiating and sent chills through your body. Mihawk felt your nipple harden in response to his touch and gave it a gentle tweak, drinking in the sound of your feather-soft sigh and the intoxicating expression he extracted. Your eyes fluttered under your crinkled brows as you tried to maintain eye contact.

Your hand was still on his wrist and you wanted to show him the other positive benefit of this outfit. Mihawk tensed for a brief moment, reluctant to let you control his body before giving in. You moved his hand under your short skirt, slowly drifting it up the skin of your hip. Teasing both yourself and the pirate in front of you.

“I see,” he murmured while grabbing a handful of your ass, your skin soft and supple against his touch, “it’s not about what you’re wearing, but what you don’t have on. Is that right?”

“Hawkeye gets it! Now you’ll always wonder if there’s anything underneath,” Buggy called out proudly, pleased with his contribution. From this moment on, Mihawk and Crocodile will question what you are, or aren’t, wearing. And if this outfit survives, it will remind you and Buggy of how you were shared between the fierce pirates. It’s a win-win-win.

Ignoring Buggy’s remark, Mihawk kept his attention on you. He pulled away his hand and replaced it on the small of your back, guiding you closer to Crocodile.

“Tell us, did your captain adequately inform you about this agreement?” Mihawk questioned, wanting to be sure you were aware of your involvement here. You nodded and acknowledged that your role was to offset any debt Buggy owed the two men in front of you. Mihawk appeared satisfied with your run-down, giving you courage to share an additional thought floating in your head.

“I’d like to add an amendment.” You felt your small flame of courage flicker under the change in atmosphere as you finished this sentence. Crocodile, who seemed to have been looking through you, was now paying rapt attention. There was an uncomfortable stillness from the area of the room where Buggy was sitting - a bad sign, since he usually had trouble sitting still and containing his nerves. With one foot in the door, you pushed on.

“I don’t like seeing Bu- Captain Buggy get hurt. Whatever frustrations you were going to take out on him, I want you to use me instead.”

If you thought the quiet in the room a moment ago was oppressive, this was a new level. If it wasn’t from the smoke still drifting from Croc, you wouldn’t be sure if anyone was breathing. Despite having Mihawk’s hand resting on your back and Crocodile close enough to touch, you felt as though you isolated yourself. Alone and adrift in a dangerous sea, surrounded by danger.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking,” Sir Crocodile’s deep voice finally broke the spell in the room. In the corner of your eye, Mihawk nodded in agreement. “I don’t think you can take it.” The Desert King spoke his piece as if it was the end of your bargaining. You were not ready to give up, even with his dominating aura threatening to snuff the remainder of bravery in your body.

“I’d like to try.” Four simple words brought a smile to Crocodile’s face. A dangerous look.

“You’re going to regret this,” Mihawk said quietly, with a sliver of hungry anticipation. For the first time since stepping into the room, you felt small. Fragile under the intensity required to become a former warlord of the sea.

Sir Crocodile extended his large hand. Before you could consider changing your mind - not that they would allow that - you shook, sealing the deal. Before you could release his hand, Crocodile pulled you closer. The way his hand enveloped yours and the rough pull had heat pooling in your core.

“Mihawk’s right. You’re going to regret this deal. Unlike the others, I don’t care about you one way or another. I’m only here for my own pleasure.”

Spurred by false-confidence from your successful bartering, you firmly met Crocodile’s stare.

“If that’s the case, then why are you still talking to me instead of fucking me?”

Your boldness wavered as Crocodile leaned forward and grabbed your chin. Mihawk’s hands on your shoulders sent chills down your spine and made your knees weak. However, it was Crocodile’s cold hook pressing against your slick heat that broke you. A docile lamb at the mercy of two hungry predators.

Time passed in a blur. Hands, mouths, cocks, countless orgasms, kisses, bites, bruises, all of which left your mind spinning. Dirty commands and sweet praises went in one ear and out the other. Heavy moans, groans and whimpers, even periodic commentary from your kind captain filled the room.

“Don’t hold back, she likes it that way.” “Pretty girl, you look so good riding my cock.” “Squeeze your tits for me, dear.” “Cumming on my hand like that makes you look desperate.” “Tell me, does your captain fuck you like this?” “She loves the taste of cum, make her swallow it all.”

Only flashes stuck in your hazy memory. You recall one particular moment stuck between the pirates. Despite being on your hands and knees, you were barely able to keep yourself steady. Instead, you chose to lean into Mihawk’s hold on your hips as his eager cock bullied your dripping cunt. Your mouth ached as Crocodile languidly slid in and out, caressing your jaw and enjoying the vibrations from your endless moaning.

One poorly positioned thrust from Mihawk had him slam into you uncomfortably - nearly painfully. Your body rocked forwards, almost instinctively, trying to move away from the discomfort. Unfortunately, this pushed Crocodile further down your throat, which constricted around him as your gag reflex kicked in.

“Aw poor thing, you’d rather choke on my cock?” Crocodile rumbled as he wiped the tears from the corner of your eyes. “You know I won’t hurt you accidentally, hm? Unlike Mihawk, I know what I’m doing.”

His comments only served to spur on the swordsman, who directed all his attention to making you feel good. An accomplishment he felt satisfied with when you cried his name the loudest during your orgasms.

Eventually, you could tell that Crocodile and Mihawk were becoming worn out. Their movements were sloppy, far less intentional or calculated. They had trouble keeping their strength restrained as they grabbed you and maneuvered your weary body, leaving bruises that formed quickly. Each load they left in or on you felt less heavy than the last. The click of Crocodile’s lighter and the scent of tobacco filling the room were the white flags that signaled the end. Your body relaxed, sinking into the sticky sheets underneath you.

“You should tell your captain thank you,” Mihawk murmured against your ear in between soft kisses.

He pulled his body away from yours as you tilted your head to face Buggy, who was already standing at the edge of the bed. Mihawk hooked a hand around your knee and tugged, easing your sore legs apart. The gesture pulled Buggy’s attention to your beautiful cunt. Cum trickled from your overused hole with each breath and heartbeat, a pool collecting under your body.

Buggy’s hand was furiously pumping his own deprived cock, which was weeping for you. His attention snapped between the glistening treasure between your legs and your face, which was flushed with lust and pride. Words poured from Buggy’s mouth as he poised himself to decorate your heaving chest.

“You did s-so good, you’re such a good little slut.” “I watched the whole time, my little star.” “Just lay there, beautiful, m’so c-close…”

His cum felt hot against your cooling skin, carrying the warmth of his passion and care for you. Buggy leaned in and captured your mouth in a kiss full of emotion. Adoration, appreciation, and a slightly bittersweet hint of an apology for spurring on these events, even though you both clearly enjoyed things.

Buggy expected Mihawk to be upset about the state of his personal belongings. His obviously expensive sheets were beyond saving and it’s very likely that some fluids leaked through to the mattress below. But there was a softness in Mihawk’s eyes as he surveyed your exposed body draped across his bed - a sensual, albeit lewd, work of art. Buggy let Mihawk commit this vision to memory before mentioning that you’d need help cleaning up.

Before Mihawk could tend to you, Crocodile’s hook stopped him. You could barely make out the enigmatic look on his face through your half-lidded eyes. He placed his hand on your thigh, which quivered under the weight. His attention traveled upwards until his fingers brushed against your swollen, sensitive folds. A careful swipe of two fingers scooped up some of the cum that trickled out, which he then eased back into you. You gasped at the intrusion as your body fluttered helplessly around Crocodile’s large fingers. Weakly, you grabbed Crocodile’s wrist as he curled his fingers, already knowing your body inside and out. It only took a few choice movements and a swipe of his thick thumb against your clit to have you shaking under his touch, succumbing to yet another orgasm.

Satisfied with your encore, Crocodile took a towel from Mihawk and wiped his sticky fingers before moving onto your body. The pirates made quick work of caring for your worn out body, cautious of your aching muscles and tender skin. Finally, Buggy wrapped you in his embrace to carry you back to his quarters for a bath and additional tender care.

---

It seemed that everyone’s expectations were fulfilled. The two former warlords upheld the end of the bargain they struck with you, as Buggy rarely returned with injuries. For a time.

About a week later and even you could feel emotions rising. Agitation and tension carried through the air behind each of the three pirates, with a breaking point close behind. Once again, a meeting behind closed doors was escalating. Threads of an argument trickled through the closed door, a warning for others to stay away. A warning you chose to ignore.

A knock on the door interrupted the meeting and before Sir Crocodile could dismiss the unwelcome visitor, you stepped in with a tray of refreshments. You ignored the blush dusting your cheeks as Mihawk’s eyes swept your body, clothed in an outfit he was intimately familiar with, and placed the tray on the table.

“Perhaps we are due for a break. Why don’t you join us?” Mihawk disguised his command as a question. Choosing to take the statement at face value, you turned towards your captain and feigned innocence.

“May I?” Your request was quickly answered with a nervous but expectant nod, Buggy's hat nearly tumbling off his head from the movement. Following Buggy’s agreement, you chose to settle down on his lap before turning your attention to his companions. The bemused looks on their faces told you that they knew you were toying with them.

“Get the fuck over here.”

#cross guild x reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #one piece crocodile #one piece sir crocodile #one piece mihawk #buggy smut #sir crocodile smut #mihawk smut #one piece smut #one piece cross guild #x reader

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hybbart · 1 year

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Day 672: After pushing themselves a bit too far, both ranchers get simultaneously hit with a bad day...

Short story below

The ceiling fan spun at a meandering pace above, barely loud enough to hear and barely strong enough for the breeze to reach down. Jimmy watched it dully, the uneven sway of the lamp cord making it hard to focus on the blades’ rhythm. Or maybe it was how deep his breaths had become. He could feel it, how little his gasps pulled in, almost entirely supported by the tube forcefully pumping air through his nose. It felt as though his lungs had forgotten how to breathe despite how hard they tried.

It was a really bad day. They didn’t happen often – Jimmy could hardly remember one that had ever been quite this bad – but they didn’t have to. If he took his tubes out right now he would simply suffocate to death no matter how hard he tried. Part of his mind resigned to it, as if he would wake up every day after this way, completely irreversible. It was more like gas prices, he knew. It would get worse than it had ever been before going back down, but not quite as far down as it was before, just that little bit worse, creeping up like he wouldn’t notice. Not just the struggle to breathe, but the awareness.

Besides him Tango whimpered. For a brief moment instinct chased away his thoughts, replacing them with concern for his rancher who was rolling onto his side to curl up. He grasped at his shoulder in agony, and Jimmy’s heart was overwhelmed with the weight of guilt. It’d been him who had hacked off Tango’s limb with a fire axe, after all. Maybe if he’d held out just a little longer someone with more medical knowledge could have done it far cleaner or saved his arm. As it was now, Tango’s shocked nerves flared at a wound that had long since healed. It always ached, just a little bit. Today it was visibly swollen, and Tango himself agreed to take some of their precious little medication to ease it. A bad day.

His heart constricted painfully.

“Tango?” Jimmy whispered, as if the sound might hurt his companion. Tango struggled to roll over and look at him, eyes distant and teeth gritted. If he weren’t a blazeborn he’d be sweating, Jimmy was sure.

Careful not to disturb the pained limb or pull on his mask, Jimmy scooted closer. Revy whimpered where he lay between their legs, ears pinned. He could smell both their bad days, but there was nothing else that could be done about them.

Tango strained to put on a smile for Jimmy, but it was more of a grimace. “What’s up, buttercup?” He teased, voice nearly too raspy to understand.

Jimmy stared at him and let his face fall. “I don’t know.” He admitted. His own breath came in heavy puffs, unable to reconcile his muscles with the air being forced into his lungs. They couldn’t even hold each other for comfort.

“Pearl’s taking care of the animals and crops.” Assured Tango.

“And when she’s gone?”

“She won’t leave us before we’re back on our feet.”

“But what about next time?” He pressed, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

Tango’s face softened and turned full towards Jimmy despite his pain. “Jim, it’s okay. We just pushed ourselves a little too hard this month and it caught up with us. We’ll be more careful.”

“What’ll we do when just finishing the chores is too much?”

“That’s not something we have to worry about yet.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.” Jimmy warbled, taking in a deeper breath. “It feels like we’re losing.”

“We aren’t losing.” Claws reached out to brush back Jimmy’s bangs which were damped with cold sweat. It continued past his ear, and repeated. Jimmy leaned into Tango’s hand, searching for any comfort he could attain. “We have each other, we’ll take care of each other.”

Jimmy frowned. “Except today.”

Those words finally seemed to give Tango pause. Jimmy took the opportunity to continue. “You’ve thought about it too. I can’t take care of myself if something happens to you. If any of my machines break down or the power goes out, or when it gets worse. I know I stopped breathing last night.” He paused to even his breathing. “And what’ll you do, if you can’t get out of bed and you’re all alone? If the pain gets worse and we’re out of medication?”

“Don’t talk like that.” Tango tried to sound firm, but Jimmy just shook his head.

“We’re out here pretending nothing is wrong, playing ranchers. There’s no ambulance if something happens, and they have as few supplies as the rest of us. We’re always fighting just to keep the power on to keep me alive. What’ll we do if a storm comes in the winter? We’d just waste away in our bed.”

There was a shuffling beside him – when had the world become so blurry? – and an arm wrapped its way across Jimmy’s shoulders. Instinctively his hand went up to cling to it. Tango’s forehead pressed into Jimmy’s shoulder. His breaths came out as shaky as Jimmy’s own, and immediately the avian wanted to apologize. Everything he said they already knew, there was no reason to let it all spill out. What was wrong with him?

But Tango pressed himself as close as he could through his pain. “Let’s think about it when we’re feeling better, okay?”

Jimmy knew what he was doing. They’d done it before. It won’t make a difference this time. His brain assured him. It’s just facts it doesn’t matter what mood we’re in if it’s facts. If we do it’s just because we forgot how bad it was. That’s why he can’t come up with a counter. Even while another part of his mind knew Tango was right. His miserable thoughts were sure they were true.

Silence fell across the room, filled only by the whirring of Jimmy’s machines and the distant clucking of chickens mixed with wild bird song. Light streamed through the windows, accompanied by a soft breeze. It was a shame it was such a nice day.

He could feel Tango relax against him, nudging his whole body just a bit closer until he was half-slumped onto the avian as he let his arm slip down to Jimmy’s ribs into a more comfortable hold. Jimmy let his head fall to the side, resting it atop Tango’s. Uneven heat radiated from the blazeborn still. He kicked himself for putting those thoughts in Tango’s mind too when, for once, it seemed like they hadn’t been.

“I’m sorry.” Whispered the avian. “I’m just scared.”

“I know.” Tango cooed. “I know, So’m I.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

But Tango shook his head. “We’ll think about it when we’re feeling better. We’ll talk to the others.”

“Okay.”

#tango tek #solidaritygaming #team rancher #rancher's revenge #rancher apocalypse au #fanart #biopunk #cottagecore #character #background #scene #writing #art #sketch #colour #Hybbart

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devildomditzy · 1 year

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Wincing, you continue to wrap the mess of bandages around your damaged hand. Sure, you weren’t new to teleportation, and you can't even begin to count the times where Solomon failed to remind you to “stick the landing”, but you’re not sure if teleportation through time played by the same rules.

You’re lucky. Mammon caught you before you could hit the ground, because of course he does. Hell, just last week he caught you before you could trip your clumsy ass down the stairs in the hallway. Even in non threatening situations, his intuition to protect you over all else shone through his tough guy façade.

You instantly clung to him, because well, it’s him. Once you both landed, you leaned into his embrace. Though by now you were used to random cases of danger invading your daily life in the Devildom, plummeting from the sky unexpectedly is still enough to shake you up.

You let out a stuttering breath.

“Thanks, Mammon. I have absolutely no idea how I teleported up there. Maybe I don’t have as good a grip on my sorcery as I thought.”

You look up at him with a small smile, the one you know drives him crazy.

He returns it with a blank stare.

“How’d ya know my name?”

Something was clearly wrong.

“Not to be facetious, but I could heal that for you, you know. You could heal that for you.”

You glare up from your spot on the bed to make eye contact with Solomon.

“Gee, thanks for the reminder.”

His lips purse together in a thin line in a valiant attempt to hold back his laughter as he steps closer to you.

“You’ve got to admit, though unexpected, this turn of events is quite humorous, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m thousands of years in the past, my friends and boyfriend don’t recognize me, and I’ve only got you to keep me company. Hilarious.”

His lips upturn in a devious smirk. You hate that smirk.

“Aw, is it so bad to have to live with me? We’ve got all of Cocytus Hall to ourselves. I could wake up everyday and cook breakfast-"

“Please don’t.”

“We can divide up the chores, it’ll be like we’re newlyweds.”

Your wrapping halts so that you could look up at the pain in your ass. You need to ensure he sees the way you scrunch up your face in disgust.

“If I wasn’t in so much pain I’d slap you, but I won’t, consider it a favor.”

You continue wrapping the roll around your palm tightly, just like Mammon had taught you, as he did once before, right after you’d just met. A moment you remembered fondly, one of the first times that he hinted that he might see you as more than a friend. Even if he had a weird way of showing it. The thought makes you smile.

“Well, can we consider it a favor that I followed you all the way out here to ensure your wellbeing?”

You roll your eyes so hard he could probably hear them moving in your skull.

“Oh please, it’s you we’re talking about. There has to be some ulterior motive.”

He seems to pretend to ponder for a bit before tilting his head to the side.

“Ah, was I really that obvious?”

“Of course you were. 'Solomon the Wise' is anything but subtle,” you say, jeering his silly little nickname in a mocking tone.

A small chuckle shakes his head. “Well, I do really want to keep you safe, and return us back to our time with minimal temporal damage, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested to see what this time period had in store.”

You stop once again to give him a confused side eye. “Didn’t you already live this time period?”

His eyes seem to look a little far off, as they typically do when he’s lost in thought. “It was so long ago, I truly don’t remember much of it.”

“Hmm,” you hum finishing up the last of the wrapping and securing it in place. You attempt to flex your hand to the best of your ability. You swear you heard a pop. Your eyes begin to well up.

“Why aren’t you letting either of us heal you again?”, he questions after seeing your pained expression.

“I told you," you frown looking down at your sorry excuse for first aid. "I need a reminder that this isn’t some convoluted dream, or one of Levi’s weird games.”

“The fact that the brothers don’t remember you isn’t reminder enough?”

You know he’s joking, but Solomon always finds a way to get right under your skin in the worst way.

The tears that once threatened to bubble over begin to fall silently, streaking your face as you purposefully avoid eye contact.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it, truly.”

You’re both quite for a moment. Surprisingly, the air in the room isn't awkward. It's just... solemn.

He breaks the silence first.

“I know how hard this must be for you, considering how close you all are. To be honest, I'm kind of jealous. So many people care for you so fiercely across all realms.”

You sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Sol. It was like I was nothing to him. He didn't even look at me like that the day I met him. ”

He sits down beside you on the bed, pulling an arm around you, allowing you to collapse into him.

“He only looked at you like that because here he doesn’t know you yet. In case you've forgotten, you weren’t exactly born yet,” he teases.

He gets a small chuckle out of you with that one.

As you calm down, you begin to really reflect on what you know, and what he’s told you so far.

“Wait, you mentioned temporal damage before. What did you mean by that?”

“That’s a tricky one. to explain. But I guess to put it in layman's terms; You cannot, no matter what happens, tell anyone that you and I are from the future. Doing so could have dire consequences.”

“Like, it could change how things happened in our time?”

“Precisely.”

“And doing so would cause-”

“Temporal damage, yes.”

You give a dejected sigh. “Doesn’t even matter if I tell them anyway, they’d never believe me.”

“On the off chance that any of them do, or you convince them of the fact, our original timeline could fall apart.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you might never get to go back to the brothers you know today.”

You can’t hide the worry that flashes on your face, even if it was just for a second. You’re the two most powerful sorcerers the world has seen for a very long time, and yet you feel so powerless.

“I-I can’t really feel them anymore. Their pacts, I mean. They’re so faint. B-But, it worked on Satan! So they have to still be in tact, right?”

Solomon smiles at the little glimmer of hope lighting up your face.

“Yes, it’s true that you haven’t formed your pacts yet in this time period, but you’re still the same you from the present. The invisible bonds you share between yourself and the brothers are still connected.”

“How is that even possible?”

“MC," he sighs, trying to figure out the best way to explain. " You didn’t die in our timeline. You didn’t leave, you didn’t cast any spells or trigger any curse. You were just gone. There only thing I could trace was this slight time distortion, so I went off the only lead I had. I’m glad I did.”

“I’m glad too, or I’m afraid I would be dead by now.”

“If I didn’t go after you, I’d be dead by now too”, he laughs, “The brothers aren’t too forgiving when it comes to you.”

The notion fills you stomach with a warm feeling. A warm, thick, bittersweet feeling.

You still have the boys, but they don’t know you yet.

You still have your magic, but not nearly as strong.

You’re not alone, but neither of you have any inkling on how to get back.

Meanwhile in a place in time thousands of years from where you sit now, seven panicked demons are tearing their realm apart high and low to try to find any trace of you.

#obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me nightbringer #omnb #om #obey me #omswd #mammon x mc #om solomon #om mammon #nightbringer mammon #obey me nightbringer spoilers #mammon x reader #obey me x reader #obey me drabble #om nightbringer

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gammija · 1 year

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[CECIL]: "So, as we move into the final hours of the competition, vote! Whether it's for your favorite, local, Night Vale community radio host or some... pile of bones, don't let your voice go unheard.

Also... Well, this might be a little bit outside the rules, but you could even make a second account to show a little more support for whoever you think should win. You probably won't get caught. As City Council declared in a recent press release, "Voter fraud doesn't exist."

"There is no such thing as voter fraud," City Council said last Wednesday, their many mouths moving as one. "No one can vote more than once. We certainly can't. Ha, ha." Some of their feet shuffled. "We definitely did NOT commit voter fraud by using the recently developed cloning technology to make copies of ourselves, force them to vote for us, then bus them into the Whispering Forest where we threw them out. That. Never. Happened," they added emphatically.

Immediately after the press conference they disbanded the City Council's, 'Night Vale committee for Fair Elections', by eating them."

[A door creaks.]

[CECIL]: "Listeners, someone has just entered my studio.

Uhm, excuse me! You're not allowed to be in here!

It looks like it's a small man, with a smoothly bald head, and dark empty eyes...

Oh no. They're sockets. This must be him, this 'Snas' the skeleton. He's coming to defend his title...

Listeners, as I prepare myself for what will surely be a fight to the death, seeing who takes who out first, I take you... To the weather."

[CECIL]: "Welcome back. I know you're all dying to know whether I won the Tumblr sexyman poll, and if I defeated the small skeleton. Well...

I was all ready to fight, getting into a stance, when the skeleton held up his hands. He said that he didn't want to fight, and that he'd come here to concede and hand me the title.

I'll admit, I was a bit taken aback by this at first. Of course, I had to protest. Wouldn't that be unfair to the few people who voted for him, I asked?

But he explained that, since he already won last year, he wasn't really looking forward to all the attention and hassle from winning a second time. And seeing as it apparently meant a lot to me, he'd rather just let me win than miss his wedding.

Yeah, apparently he's about to be wed to someone named Komaeda in a few days? Good for him.

Dear listeners, after his heartfelt plee, I felt I had no choice but to accept the win.

Which means I am now, officially, Tumblr sexyman of 2023. Yay!

Stay tuned next for muffled sounds of celebration, overheard from a neighbour's house nearby.

Good night, Night Vale. Good night."

#wtnv #audio #undertale #polls #cecilsweep #i am manifesting #cecil palmer #fanfic #i guess #sexymanotd #wrote this in 30 mins so its not good but i had fun #night vale stuff is so hard to do justice to in writing when the voiceacting is such an element #welcome to night vale #wtnv fic #Spotify #btw this is not a call to cheat on the poll #but i just think Cecil would ask people to

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fozmeadows · 4 months

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As someone who hasn't read the works of radical feminists like Simone de Beauvoir, could you explain what's wrong and what bothers you about biological essentialism? I'm curious about your opinion after reading your post on radfems (and I'd like a perspective that isn't so based on biological gender essentialism, which I honestly have a hard time moving away from because I don't understand other perspectives well). 👀

The problem with biological essentialism is that purports to answer the eternally unanswered question of nature vs nurture in a wholly one-dimensional way - ie, with biological sex as The Single Most Important Aspect Of Personhood, regardless of any other considerations - while simultaneously ignoring the fact that biological sex is not, in fact, a binary proposition. We've learned in recent decades, for instance, that intersex conditions are much more common and wide-ranging than previously thought, not because scientists have arbitrarily changed the definitions of what counts as an intersex condition, but because our understanding of hormones, chromosomes, karyotpying and other physical permutations has expanded sufficiently to merit the shift. So right away, the idea that humanity is composed of Biological Men and Biological Women with absolutely no ambiguities, overlap or middle ground simply isn't true. Inevitably, though, if you mention this, people with a vested interest in biological essentialism become immediately defensive. They'll start saying things like, oh, but that's only a tiny minority of the population, they're outliers, they don't count, as though their argument doesn't derive its claim to authority from a presumed universality. To use a well-worn example, redheads are also a tiny minority of the population, but that doesn't mean we exclude them when talking about the range of natural human hair colours. But the fact is, even if humans lacked chromosomal diversity beyond XX/XY; even if there were no cases of cis men with internal ovaries or cis women with internal testes or people with ambiguous genitalia - and let's be clear: all of these things exist - the fact is, our individual hormones are in flux throughout our lives.

There are standard ranges for estrogen and testosterone in men and women (which, again, vary according to age and some other factors), but two cis men of the same age and background could still have completely different T-counts, for instance - meaning, even the supposed universal gender factor isn't universal at all. More, while our hormones certainly play a major role in our moods and cognition, so do a ton of other genetic and bodily factors that have nothing to do with the sex we're assigned at birth - and on top of that, there's nurture: the cultural contexts in which we're raised, plus our more individual experiences of living in the world. One of the most common, everyday (and yet completely bullshit) permutations of biological essentialism comes when parents or would-be parents talk about their reasons for wanting a son or a daughter. Very often, there's a strong play to stereotypical assumptions about shared interests and personalities: I want a son to play football with me, for instance, or: I want a daughter to be my shopping buddy. But even within the most mainstream channels of cishet culture, it's understood that these hopes are not, in fact, grounded in any sort of biological certainty. The dad who wants a sporty son might be just as likely to end up with a bookworm, while the mother who wants a little princess might find herself with a tomboy. We know this, and our stories know this! For the entirety of human history - for as long as we've been writing about ourselves - we have records of parental disappointment in the failure of this child or that to embody what's expected of them, gender-wise. More than that: if biological essentialism was real - if men were only and ever One Type Of Man, and women were only and ever One Type Of Woman, with recent progressive moments the sole anonymous blip in an otherwise uniform historical standard - then why is there so much disparity and disagreement throughout human history as to what those roles are? The general conception of women espoused in medieval France is thoroughly different to that espoused in pre-colonial Malawi, for instance, and yet we're meant to believe that there's some innate Gender Template guiding all human beings to behave in accordance with a set, immutable biological binary? And that's before you factor in the broad and fascinating history of trans and nonbinary people throughout history - because despite what TERFs and conservative alarmists have to say on the matter, our records of trans people, and of societies in which various trans and nonbinary identities were widely understood (if not always accepted), are ancient. We know about trans priestesses from thousands of years before Christ; the Talmud has terms describing eight different genders, and those are just two examples. All over the world, all throughout history, different cultures have developed radically different concepts of femininity and masculinity, to say nothing of designations outside of, overlapping with or in between those categories - socially, legally, behaviourally, sexually - and yet we're meant to believe that biology is at all times nudging us towards a set, ideal gender template? There's a lot more I could say, but ultimately, the point is this: people are different. While some aspects of our personhood are inevitably influenced by genetics, hormones, chromosomes and other biological factors, we're also creatures of culture and change and interpersonal experience. The idea that men and women are fundamentally different, even diametrically opposed, at a biological level - that the major separator in terms of our personalities and interests isn't culture, upbringing and personal taste, but what's between our legs - is just... so reductive, and so inaccurate.

We can absolutely have common experiences on the basis of a shared gender, but gender is not the only possible axis of commonality between two people, let alone the most salient one at all times, and the idea that we're all born on one side of an immutable biological equation that cannot possibly be transcended makes me feel insane. According to modern biological essentialism, intersex, trans and nonbinary people are either monstrous, mistakes or imaginary; all men are fundamentally predisposed to violence, all women are designed for motherhood, and we're meant to just hew to our designated places - which, conveniently, tend to echo a very specific form of Christian ideology, but which in any case manifestly fail to account for how variedly gender has been presented throughout history. It's nuts.

#foz answers things #gender #feminism #biological essentialism #history #sociology

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calisources · 1 month

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𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒, 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences were taken from difference media about age gap and age difference relationships, all acceptable relationships within consenting adults with age differences. Please do not use for teenagers or taboo relationships. These have some foul language or suggestive undertones so please beware. You can change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

I bet it doesn’t feel like this with that boy of yours, does it?

You’ll never know when I’m going to drag you into the darkness, pumping my cock into one of your tight holes. And you’ll take every inch like a good little girl.

What a tiny life we’d live if we fashioned ourselves to the comforts of others.

I think I'm a little old for that, love.

No, not old. But you're, you know, a man.

Tell me that you've never had anyone else. I want you to pretend.

You show me things I've forgotten.

Sometimes I think you must have seen it all before. That I can't show you anything new.

I like you as you are, he said. Even if you're going to wear me out.

I’m rough with your body sometimes, but I’ll always be gentle with your soul. She bruises far more easily.

This prince is a few years younger than you, and does not have much experience.

I must have forgotten how young you would be, Princess. Has there ever been a sovereign of such tender age?

Who is to say what love is or what it wants to be, the shape it takes, or how quickly it comes on? Love has always made a fool of time.

I don’t feel old. As a matter of fact, sitting here with you makes me feel older, not younger. Nothing is rubbing off.

Mr. Rochester was about forty, and this governess not twenty; and you see, when gentlemen of his age fall in love with girls, they are often like as if they were bewitched.

He's old enough to be your father.

Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.

But she wants you. And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.

Age is no barrier. It's a limitation you put on your mind.

Age considers; youth ventures.

Age, like distance lends a double charm.

I'm a strong believer that a good relationship can work, whatever the situation.

Love knows no boundaries, not even the ones defined by age.

Don’t let society’s judgment define your love. Follow your heart, despite the age difference.

Most people would be upset they get an old man as their husband.

Do not worry about your age, Ser. The lady pays attention not to age but prowess.

I will not let time choose my lovers for me. I trust my own judgement.

You should look to more prosperous gardens, Your Grace.

I was sixteen years old when you were born.

No doubt you were much my superior in judgement at that period of our lives; but does not the lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal nearer?

Come, my dear Emma, let us be friends, and say no more about it.

I have seldom seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers. But I am a partial old friend.

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

We spend more time discussing this matter than being together as a couple. And I believe you are doing it on purpose.

You think my attention is as fickle that I would look elsewhere.

Perhaps it would be you who looks elsewhere. A handsome older man must have youthful maidens at his disposal.

If we were closer in age, it would've been fine.

I have loved you since the moment I helped you with your zipper.

Would it make you feel better if I call you Daddy while you fuck me?

You’ll be a silver fox before 40 at this rate.

Well, it’s definitely your fault. You stress me out. You’re making my hair turn white.

It’s easy to cast opinions when your heart isn’t the one invested.

I hope you love me, because I love you like crazy, and I'm going to want you the rest of my life.

You already know the truth. And I will be by your side, but I am not good for you.

I am tired of others getting to choose who is good for me. You do that quite often, frequently.

You'll keep your name. You'll keep your will. You'll have your own servants to attend you— you will have everything you ask for.

Don't ask me to let you do. Do you understand? Do not ask me.

It might be best for us, for myself, if I found myself useful elsewhere.

I wish you could just slow down so I could catch up to you.

Stamina is not an issue. But rather what others will whisper.

When are you going to get over this? All I did was touch your leg.

Why would it matter if someone saw you saying hello to me?

But it’s nice to be around you. Like I haven’t lost a decade of my life.

I been in love with you since I was six, fool.

I will always belong to you, but I’m afraid there will be others after me. I’m not a young man/woman.

A kiss ... a muse. It is a question, an unlocked door. It is ... elation ... and anguish.

You have treated me better than any young man my age. Why should I go for either of them?

Young men are eager lovers. I prefer my lovers to take their time. I’m sure with men is the same.

You make me feel really safe. i’m not used to that.

You gave an old man purpose again. And that is more than I can ask of you.

I was a child then, with a crush and a dream. As I grew, dreams changed but you remain the one in my dreams.

I have thought about kissing you a lot. What would that make me?

I have more in common with you than men my age.

Do not pretend to think what I think.

More recently, there are rumors she prefers her lovers to be younger. Truth to be told, I don’t blame her.

I will teach you in time, but for now restrain me and have your way with me. I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.

We have never done anything to be ashamed of. You’ve never done anything to be ashamed of.

Personally, I think the difference keeps us interesting in another another.

You can teach me all you wish, and I can learn. I know I can.

There is always a wild side to an innocent face.

You are being too forward right now, my lady. Be careful.

There would be other loves. Even great loves. But she was right, only one remained perfect.

Maybe there are some people you marry and people you love.

Just so you know, you're a natural lover. Your body expresses beautifully what's in your heart.

I have never felt so alive... as when I am in your arms.

A 5 to 7 relationship is a relationship outside of marriage.

You're older than I am, you're wiser I'm sure and you've seen much more of the world.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #age gap meme #age difference meme

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heavyhitterheaux · 2 months

Text

Got Me Thinking

Part 4: If Your Girl Only Knew (Slight NSFW)

Synopsis: Jack invites you to one of his shows, and everyone is excited to see you, especially him. However, he had to warn you that the time had finally come for meeting the infamous Kelsey face to face.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Ever since that lust filled night when Jack came to visit, you were longing to see him again and be in his presence. During different times of the day, your thoughts would go back to that moment and how much pleasure he had brought you. So much that in more times than you could count, you found yourself having a river form in between your thighs and often found yourself putting your vibrator to good use. That would have to do at least until you saw him again.

Luckily a few weeks later, an opportunity arose when he called you on Facetime and asked you if you would want to come to one of his shows. Surprisingly, you hadn’t seen him perform since the two of you called it quits and thought it was long overdue.

You had kept tabs on him throughout the years and still supported him, but you simply did it from a distance.

“You busy this Friday?” He asked and all you did was eye him.

“Depends on who’s asking.” You answered while eating your chocolate covered strawberries that was from an edible arrangement that Jack had sent to your house earlier.

“Well I’m asking because I have a show I’m performing at in L.A. and I want you there with me.”

“Hmm, I guess I can fit you in my schedule.”

“What do you mean you guess? Stop acting like you don’t want my face buried between your thighs again. And I definitely want to be one of those strawberries right now. Why are you eating it like that? Getting me bricked up and shit.”

“Jackman! Cut it out, he’s downstairs.” You exclaimed while getting up to close your bedroom door.

“Like I give a flying fuck about that. He doesn’t deserve you anyway. Don’t act shy now, or did you forget what happened last night when I called you?”

You instantly got a smirk on your face remembering how Jack asked you to get off in front of him and all you remember was the camera view becoming blurry as he hit his peak and his cum went flying everywhere as he watched you.

“I see your phone survived what you put it through.”

“Look, it was your fault and I’d do it again too with no hesitation.”

“I know you would.”

Jack then got quiet and you looked at him curiously wondering what was on his mind.

“Jackson, why are you so quiet all of a sudden?”

He simply sighed before answering you.

“Kelsey is going to be there too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Jack, that’s your wife isn’t it? I would expect her to be with you sometimes.”

“Yes, but….”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll play nice and be on my best behavior and I might give you a private show once you’re done with your own.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“Nope, you just have to be patient and wait and see. But, why am I worried about someone that clearly can’t give you what you want or satisfy you? From what everyone says about her, she obviously doesn’t compare to me.”

“Doesn’t even come close.”

“Isn’t it almost two in the morning over there? And where is she now?”

“It is and I have no idea where the hell she is and I don’t care. Probably out spending all my got damn money.”

You stifled a laugh and he simply shook his head.

“Well Clay does call her the wicked witch of the west for a reason.”

“And now I’ve really started to see why over the last two months.”

“We’ll talk about it later, but for right now you need to go to sleep and get all the rest you can get for Friday.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Because you’ll have two performances to put on. One for your fans and the other one is for my eyes only. How do you think Kelsey would feel if we had a few minutes to ourselves after the show?”

“I can arrange it and make it happen and she can get the fuck over it.”

Friday was now here and you were on your way to the venue and made sure to leave a bit early so that being stuck in traffic wouldn’t become an issue. As you were driving, a facetime call came through and you saw it was Clay and quickly answered. You were now suddenly concerned and was hoping that everything was okay with Jack.

“Clay! Hi boo, what’s going on? Everything okay?”

“Please tell me you’re still coming, but hi to you too!”

“What the? What’s wrong?”

“Jack is in a mood again and you can guess why because there is literally only one answer at this point.”

“Oh, goodness.”

“I wish she would have stayed home but NOPE. So here we are and everyone is miserable so PLEASE tell me that you’re almost here. I don’t know how much more of her we can take.”

“Of course I’m still coming and I’m actually almost there. I left a little early because I knew traffic was going to be crazy.”

Just then Urban popped into the frame and was waving at you.

“Y/N!”

“URBANNN!”

“Hurry up and get your ass here. I’ll meet you outside and bring you to where everyone is. But uh, did he warn you about….?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Okay good. Didn’t want you walking into any surprises.”

“I’ll see you two in about ten minutes.” Without another word, you hung up and turned your attention back to the road ahead.

As promised, Urban met you outside and led you backstage where everyone was. As soon as you walked in the room, all attention was on you and Clay was the first one to capture you in a hug.

“We’re saved, we’re saved.” He whispered in your ear and you couldn’t help but laugh. When you looked over at Urban, he was laughing too so he obviously must have heard what Clay said.

“Y/N! Clay, move and stop hogging her!” Ace exclaimed while trying to get in between the two of you.

“Hiii Ace.”

“Hello, Y/N, and we need to talk business. As in business being your older sister.”

“ACE!! Leave the girl alone! She just got here! At least let her settle in before you start harassing her! Hi Y/N, I’m Neelam and I’ve heard such good things about you from Jack. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” So, this was the famous Neelam that everyone talked about.

“It’s so nice to meet you too!” You responded while returning the hug that she was giving you.

You scanned the room and didn’t see Jack or Kelsey so you assumed that they were together and sure enough right on cue, they both entered. Jack was walking in front of her and clearly pissed off about something as she was following behind him like a lost puppy and there was an obvious pout on her face.

“Babe!”

“Kelsey, drop it. I’m done talking about it.”

When Jack looked up and saw you, his grim mood turned the corner for the better and immediately ran over to you and picked you up as you began to laugh.

“Hiii boo. I see you’ve missed me.”

“You have NO idea.” He said loud enough so that only you could hear and squeezed you tighter.

“When you left, I lost a part of me. It’s still so hard to believe, come back baby please cause weeee belong togetherrrr.” Clay started to sing when the two of you embraced and it was giving everyone in the entire room the hardest time in order not to laugh.

“I just love Mariah Carey. One of my favorites. Yall think she’s going to do a Vegas residency soon?” Clay asked as he was scrolling through his phone.

“I’d definitely come with you if she does.” Urban responded while shrugging and Neelam was eyeing the two of them.

She quickly mouthed ‘Behave’ while trying not to laugh herself.

Once Jack had placed you back on your feet, you suddenly felt a presence next to you and turned around to be face to face with Kelsey herself.

“Babe, who’s this?” She asked Jack and he clearly looked annoyed at the fact that she was even talking to him.

“Y/N, this is Kelsey, Kelsey this is Y/N, we went to high school together. She lives here and I asked her to come.” He answered while not taking his eyes off of you and his left arm was still around your waist which she was quick to notice.

“It’s so nice to meet you.” You said as you held your hand out towards her, but she examined it before she took it.

“Oh, someone’s jealous.” Clay whispered to Urban and he immediately nodded.

“I didn’t realize you two were so close and had no idea you would be here tonight. I feel that is something important that you should tell your wife, don’t you think, Jackman?”

“Here she goes.” Clay quietly said while keeping his focus on his phone.

“They’ve been a lot closer than she thinks.” Urban muttered next to Clay and they both began to laugh.

“Kelsey, don’t start. So I have to tell you about every single person that I went to high school with and decided to reconnect with them?”

“I didn’t even mean it like that.”

“Well it sounds like you did.”

“Damn, 100 points to Gryffindor. He got her good with that one.” Ace said from behind you as you were simply standing there because it was now awkward.

Kelsey then turned back to you and gave you the fakest smile that she could muster. There was something about you that she couldn’t put her finger on, but she already knew for a fact she didn’t like you.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

“Okay, is she settled in now Neelam? Y/N! Let me at Janelle!” Ace said as he was now at the snack table and all you did was shake your head at him.

The time waiting for Jack’s set was spent with you goofing around with everyone backstage and getting to do a mini photoshoot in the hallway with Urban taking the pictures in order for you to be able to post them on your instagram later.

When you were across the room talking to 2fo with Jack right beside you, Kelsey went and sat next to Clay who had a confused look on his face when he noticed her.

“Uhh? Did you need something Kelsey?” He politely asked as he was silently cursing Urban for leaving him there by himself.

“How does Jack know her?”

“He told you earlier. They went to high school together. Didn’t you hear him?

“And they were just friends?” She asked, trying to find out more information about you.

“Don’t you think that this is a conversation for you and your husband to have?” Clay asked while finally turning to look at her.

“He doesn’t want to tell me anything anymore.”

“Hmm, I wonder why. Evil ass.” Clay muttered to himself so that she wouldn’t be able to hear.

“You still need to ask him and not me.”

“Is there…. Is there something I should be worried about?”

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Jack hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since he saw her when she got here.”

“Well.. they haven’t seen each other in a long time and they were really close.”

“How close?”

“Kelsey, ask my brother.”

“But obviously you know something, but aren’t telling me.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re a little jealous? You’re the wife, right? So you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“I’m not jealous! It just seems like everyone adores her and all of the attention has been on her.”

“She’s an amazing person. Always has been. Our parents absolutely love her too.”

“Wait, she knows your parents, too?!”

“Like I said before, they were extremely close.”

Soon there was only about twenty more minutes until it was time for Jack to go on stage and you wanted to give him a small gift since you still hadn’t gotten him anything for his birthday. You knew deep down that he didn’t care and was simply excited to see you, but you still wanted to do something nice for him. As he was about to head to his dressing room, you grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Hey, I have something to give you, but I want it to be when we’re by ourselves.”

“Hmm, is it what I think it is?” He asked as he wiggled his eyebrows and you quickly smacked his arm.

“Behave! And no, but… if we can make our way to your dressing room now, I can give you a good luck kiss and maybe a little more?”

All he did was smirk and start to play with the ends of your hair which Kelsey was very quick to notice and was quick to interrupt.

“Babe, isn’t it time for your good luck kiss since you’re about to hit the stage?”

“Gag me with a spoon.” Quiiso said to 2fo who was trying not to laugh.

“Um, sure in a minute. Let me go get dressed first. And Y/N had something to show me so we’ll be back.”

He put his hand on the small of your back and guided you down the hallway to his dressing room as Kelsey was left sitting there fuming at what just happened.

Once the two of you got to his dressing room, he closed the door behind him and locked it then his lips were instantly on yours.

“Mm, I’ve missed that and this.” He said as his hand went to cup your ass in the skirt that you were wearing.

“You definitely made that clear on our facetime call earlier this week.”

“So, what did you want to give to me? Is it another purple thong? Because at this point I’m about to start collecting them like infinity stones.”

“I literally CANNOT with your ass.” You said while laughing and Jack pulled you closer to him so that he was able to kiss you once more.

“Look, I figured I’d ask and when I collected all of them it would unlock some type of bonus scene.”

“Jackson PLEASE stop talking.” You responded as you continued to laugh.

“What?! What’d I say?!”

“Anyway, for starters, it’s not a thong because I’m not wearing anything under my outfit at all.” You whispered against his lips and grabbed his hand to place it underneath your skirt.

His fingers grazed against your core and you were getting wetter by the second. He then inserted two of his fingers and slowly moved them before putting them in his mouth and sucking on them. Just like he did the last time the two of you saw each other.

“There’s definitely more where that came from, but we have to save it for later.” He quietly said, but all you did was get on your knees without breaking eye contact with him and started playing with the waistband of his sweatpants.

“You definitely don’t need a good luck kiss from Kelsey, but will good luck head be acceptable?”

All he did was nod his head as you pulled down his sweatpants and boxer briefs and immediately took him in your mouth.

“Ahh shit.”

Jack didn’t want to mess up your hair so he simply pushed it back out of your face as you continued to pleasure him.

“I’m definitely going to need you to sit on my face after this later. FUCK!”

Because you knew that he didn’t have a lot of time, you were trying to move as fast as possible in order to get him to cum and you could tell that it was working seeing as Jack’s eyes were now closed as he threw his head back in pleasure and was trying to lightly force you down on him.

“My girl looks so pretty taking all of me in her mouth. That’s it baby, that’s it. I’m close.”

You hearing him say that he was close made you move even quicker with a sense of urgency because the last thing you wanted was for him to be late for his set.

“Fuck!” Was the last thing you heard as he came in your mouth and you swallowed it without wasting a drop.

When he was finished coming down from his high, he looked down at you and smiled before helping you to your feet and kissing you.

“I want to return the favor.”

“But… we don’t have a lot of time.”

“We have as much time as I say we have. I’m the headliner and calling the damn shots.” Was all he said before leading you to the couch and immediately pulling your shirt down to expose your breasts that he began to play with them, lightly sucking and biting.

“Babe, that’s going to leave a mark.” You whined and he simply shrugged.

“I’m marking my territory.”

He didn’t waste a lot of time before pulling your skirt up to your hips, spreading your legs and diving in head first.

By the time that Jack had gotten dressed and you had given him his gift, which was an exclusive Rolex that was personalized and had his initials on the band inside, he was only a minute late.

“I’m definitely wearing this onstage. Thank you Buttercup.” He said as he leaned down to kiss you and you were simply admiring his outfit as you helped him put on the watch.

His outfit was your favorite color.

Green.

“Hmm, you wore this outfit on purpose, didn’t you?” You asked and all he did was smirk.

“What ever do you mean, baby?”

“Such a fucking tease.”

—

As you were in the front and standing off to the side watching Jack perform, Neelam came up to you and smiled. You returned the smile and the two of you watched him in silence before she turned back to you to say something.

“Y/N, I just wanted to tell you how much the people around him see how much happier he’s been since you two reconnected.”

“Well you can thank Clay for that.” You said thinking about when he first asked you.

“I.. look.. Jack is not only my client, but someone who I consider my little brother. He has talked about you non-stop and all I want is for him to be happy and I know that his happiness is wherever you are. Kelsey isn’t good for him and we could all see it from the beginning. He just didn’t want to listen. ”She said, being completely honest.

“That seems to be the running theme of what everyone keeps telling me. He’s definitely important to me and I want the best for him. I just wish sometimes that we never broke up because I always think about how our life might have turned out differently.”

“Well the two of you reconnecting wasn’t by chance and it was definitely meant to happen. I just want you to know that whatever that you two have going on because I know that there is something there because my big sister radar is going off, I support it. I just want him to be happy again. That’s all we literally all want.”

“I wish it was that simple.” You replied while sighing.

“Well, why isn’t it?”

“You said Jack told you a lot about me, but did he mention my husband?”

Neelam looked at you dumbfounded before she responded.

“You act like the word divorce doesn’t exist?”

“And that’s my problem.”

“What is?”

“I love Jack like if he would have asked me to elope when we were eighteen, I would have without a second thought and that is still true as we speak, but I also love my husband as fucked up of a person that he is and I’m having second thoughts about divorcing him.”

Liked by urbanwyatt, jackharlow, neelamthadhani, claybornharlow, thenursecorner, and 450,831 others

anesthesiabae: friends supporting friends

jackharlow love you forever and I will always be proud of you 💖

jackharlow: so happy you came tonight, thank you 😘 claybornharlow: reunited and it feels so good yungskylark: aye! y/n lemme get Janelle's number!!! anesthesiabae: jackharlow any time you need me, I'm here urbanwyatt: mariah carey- anytime you need a friend jackharlow: anesthesiabae so this means I can ask for my hoodie back now right? anesthesiabae: ACE... NO! and jackharlow if I didn't give it back and 12 years have now passed, what makes you think that you'll get it at all? jackharlow: anesthesiabae closed mouths don't get fed, now do they? neelamthadhani: so happy that I finally got to meet you! jackharlowsource: oohh she's pretty! jackharlow spill! who is this pretty lady?!

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow smut #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concept #jackman thomas harlow #jackman harlow

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k-dokja · 2 months

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Weewoo weewoo, another Zuko small piece following the previous one.

Book 3 - E13, The Firebending Masters.

Aang sees Katara glaring daggers at Zuko before anyone else. Maybe it’s a blessing because it makes her stop before you or Zuko notice.

“What’s wrong, Katara?” Aang asks, his concern is half towards her and half towards the new addition to their team.

“I don’t like it,” she sighs, turning away from the two of you. “He was antagonistic against us for so long, even if he never targeted specifically her.”

Aang blinks, taking a moment before he realizes what Katara is worried about. “I don’t think he’d hurt her,” Aang says, before hastily adding, “at least, I hope.”

Katara crosses her arms, a little unconvinced, but she knows having an argument over it wouldn’t solve anything. “Well, he knows what awaits him if he did her wrong,” she mutters dourly, glaring down at the cracked ground below them.

“Huh?”

Katara fixes a smile on her face. “Nothing,” she says, “come on, I need help with starting dinner.”

Aang brightens at her request, bouncing after her as Katara walks away. “What are we having for dinner?”

It isn’t until the two of them walk away that you notice their presence. You blink slowly at their retreating forms, wondering why they haven’t said anything to you if they have been standing around. Before you can get too distracted by that, however, Zuko’s words capture your attention once more.

”It’s not really dancing,” he tries to reason, “their movements are strong and powerful, it’s fighting, not dancing.”

You smile wryly, “Strong and powerful are synonyms,” you point out and relish in the way his cheeks redden further. “Besides, what’s wrong with dancing? I always thought firebending should be more fluid, it’s far more flexible than earthbending, after all.”

“That’s because you’re a…” Zuko fumbles, trying to find the correct word.

Seeing his fluster makes you unable to decide if you should feel amused or slightly offended. You cross your arms, challenging him to continue. “A…?” If he’s thinking what you assume he’s thinking, you might send him to Sokka for a good old training in respect.

“Away from how we trained our bending,” Zuko clarifies, “you didn’t see how we learned it in our armies, it would be near impossible to think there’s another method.”

Your shoulder relaxes from his explanation. At least, if nothing else, Zuko doesn’t have that as his cardinal sin. Which makes sense from what you’ve seen of his sister. “Fire can be a good and nurturing force,” you shrug, “it is what we use to cook meals and warm ourselves on cold days, it is also the forces that nurture all lives… I think?”

The corner of his lips inch up momentarily, “That’s a sweet way to think about it,” he says, “I wish I had the same view as you.”

“Well, you’re growing to have it, right?” You put your hands on your hips, leaning closer to peer at him. “That’s what this whole thing is about.”

“I… suppose,” Zuko accepts hesitantly, “I just wish I had thought about it sooner, maybe it would’ve saved me a lot of grief.”

Knowing half of what he has experienced up to this point, you nod with thoughts clouding your mind. “Well, you did say the experience taught you a lot,” you remind him with a gentle smile, “without it, you wouldn't be where you are.”

“Without it, we wouldn't meet either,” Zuko says before his eyes widen, he turns away, adding, “I wouldn't say I would change it for anything, but... I do wish I had harmed less people back then.”

Hearing his conflicts, you purse your lips, “Well, it would be impossible to say you won’t have to use fire to harm anymore since we’re at the brink of a war but…”

You pause, trying to collect your words before meeting his eyes. When you do, whatever he sees in yours must’ve stunned him into silence. “Yours has turned into a fire to protect, it is a precious thing to have,” you raise a finger towards him, “and if someone in your position can learn it, then so can everyone else, eventually, with time.”

Zuko breathes out a sigh that takes away all of the weight on his shoulders. “Is that a future you want to have?”

“It would be ideal, yes,” you smile a little brighter, hopeful of what is to come once the war is over, “a world where all four elements work for the benefit of each other, wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Then,” Zuko presses his lips together before continuing, “I’ll strive to bring that vision into reality.”

You blink, a little confused. “Wasn’t that your original plan?”

“Yes, well, I mean—“ Zuko struggles again. “Since you said, you know, I just—“

He coughs, clearing his throat, “Yes,” he says finally, “but I have another incentive to do that now that I know it would make you happy.” Zuko should've stopped at that, but then seemingly realizing something, he frowns, “Because you're a good friend, and I want to see you happy, of course. That's what I meant.”

“I know what you mean,” you give him a reassuring smile, before having the heart to change the topic for his sake, “so... this dance of yours...”

Eager to have an escape, Zuko latches on the first opportunity you provide him. “It's not a dance!” He protests, but there is a slight smile on his lips. The sight of it warms your heart in a quiet way you can't put your finger on, easier to assume it's because of how he has changed than ruminate about the further reason behind it.

Zuko has smiled far more often now that he's with you and your friends, but you never quite notice that his smile comes up more frequently when he's around you.

#zuko #zuko x reader #atla #atla x reader #fics

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ed-recovery-affirmations · 2 months

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I just made myself a cup of a new tea, one from a set that a friend sent me. I was super curious to try it with and without milk in it, so after I take a sip without, I'm going to add milk to my tea.

That may seem like such an inane little story to post on a blog, unless you have an eating disorder. I'm sure many of you know what a big deal milk in tea can be, and what an important act of self-love it is.

It was poured into many of our ears, approaching teenhood in the mid-2000's, not to "drink our calories." For those of us whose restriction was weight-based, many of us practiced filling ourselves with water, with our coffee black and unsweetened whether that was how we liked it or not, and with tea that never contained milk.

Like many people who've struggled with binge eating and with restriction, I struggle with creating anxiety-inducing rules about when is okay to eat, especially if I'm between meals and worrying if I should allow myself a snack, or if it's okay to quench my thirst with anything other than water. This is especially true between meals. For some reason my brain has accepted the "extra" caloric intake as part of a meal, but still balks at the idea of introducing these things independently into non-meal parts of the day. I would like to note that my chronic illness and my body's reaction to food has also influenced this weird relationship between me and my favorite treats, such as a piece of candy, or a beverage that might happen to contain a greater-than-zero calorie count.

But tonight, before bed, I want to try this tea. And it sounds like one that'd be super tasty with milk, as it has cocoa powder and vanilla in the blend. So I let my tea cool in the room with me as I type this, telling myself that I can get up and go back for milk after I taste it.

Now I have gone to the kitchen.

Now I have poured in a splash of milk and tasted. It's soy milk, as regular milk sometimes hurts my stomach and I don't want my sleep to be disrupted. Due to my chronic illness, this is still something I have to think about, and I'll be honest, I hate it. Things like this make it so hard to tell myself I can let go of my food fears, because my brain knows that some of my food fears will turn out to have validity, and so what if they all do?

Now I have poured in another splash. Tasted.

Now I have poured in a third, much larger splash. Tasted.

Oh, this is it. This tea tastes like a warm dessert. But now it's too cool, so I need to microwave it back to its best heat. I used to not want to microwave my food. As a teen I heard a hippie say that microwaves destroy the nutrients in your food because the radiation breaks down their molecular structure. This is absolutely false. In fact, it's been disproven that microwaves break down nutrients any more than other methods of heating food, but for a long time I believed it. And even after I learned the truth, I still found it hard to convince myself it was okay to use microwaves for a very long time.

I have just finished my tea in my room. I took the time to identify that I wanted it. I took the time to truly taste it in several different ways, consider how I felt I wanted it and bring it to those specifications. It wasn't planned for any specific time or day, but I agreed to give myself this the way I wanted it anyway. I've been drinking my coffee with milk every morning, too. I actually like black coffee, but I like it better with milk. And I give myself things throughout the day that I enjoy, to enhance my experience of my existence. Life is hard, and it's okay to allow yourself, to the fullest extent you can, the small joys that bring you through the day.

I wanted to share this with you. I hope you don't feel the crushing weight of morality when staring at a bottle of regular soda and the sugar-free, when you wake up with your morning coffee, when your self-care regimen includes a cup of tea. I hope you practice actively giving yourself the love you need this week. And I hope you give it to yourself exactly the way you need it.

#recovery diaries #ed recovery #restriction recovery #self care #food cw #long post

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amaya-writes · 1 year

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Day One: And Then There Was One...Bed (BNHA x Reader Smut)

Day One of Amaya's New Year's Event

Summary: After a tiring day assisting your hero at the commission's Christmas party all you wanted to do was collapse in your hotel room and sleep the night away, however, things take a surprising turn when you find out each agency was only given one room...with one bed.

Warnings: smut!!! NSFW, MDNI!! sub Hawks, oral (both receiving), raw sex, dom reader, dom Aizawa, use of words like kitten, fingering

Characters involved: Hawks, Aizawa

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

You shouldn't be doing this.

A small smile tugged on your lips as you allowed your fingers to card through his feathers, the action eliciting a shiver from your pro hero as he leaned further into your touch.

The sight made your grin widen as you felt Keigo trail his hot fingers across the swell of your ass, causing you to softly grind against his touch as you allowed yourself a quick peck before completely pulling away from him.

"We really shouldn't be doing this, Keigo."

Other pro heroes would have taken your words as a reason to stop and never look you in the eyes again, but Keigo was different. He was young. You and stupid and everything you thought you left behind after graduating from UA.

And he was needy. So, so needy.

It was why he allowed a small whine to slip past his lips as Keigo's grip tightened on your bare skin.

Stay, he said. And you listened.

You listened even if you knew better than to kneel between your pro hero's legs and slot his dripping cock between your lips, you listened even if you knew a pro hero's position wasn't between his side kick's legs sucking at her core.

Low groans and moans echoed through the hotel room as the two of you made love to each other. Because that was what this was. Not random sex, but making love.

He caressed your body with the hands of worship and you tainted him with a sinner's touch.

Keigo was clumsy, and clearly didn't know what he was doing. He couldn't have had sex more than a handful of times, not with the commission breathing down his neck day and night, but he was eager. Eager and so ready to learn.

He didn't say anything when you tugged at his blond strands and pushed his mouth close to your core. He didn't protest when you told him to sit up against the headboard and climbed on his lap.

The only sound that escaped his lips were moans of pleasure as he egged you on with his words.

Don't stop. So you didn't. Let me cum for you. So you let him.

You wanted to be meaner, to pull away at the last second and make him whine for your touch. But you couldn't. Not when he was looking at you like you hung the sun in the sky.

He looked at you with the eyes of worship, you looked at him like you wanted to severe his faith.

Nobody would know about what transpired between the two of you that night. But nobody needed to know.

Because Keigo Takami might have been the powerful number two hero to the rest of Japan, but to you, he was the pro hero who fell to his knees for his side kick.

Even if it was just for a night.

Aizawa Shouta

It'll be fine he said. We're mature adults who can handle ourselves, he said. I'll be asleep even before you realise it, he said.

Yeah, right.

Aizawa Shouta might have been a pro hero who prided himself on his self-restraint and poise, but the way his lips trailed hickeys down your neck while his fingers curled into the waistband of your pyjamas certainly made it seem otherwise.

It had been hours since the two of you first stumbled into your hotel room tired and ready to collapse, but neither of you had gotten a wink of sleep since the second you lied down beside each other.

At first, he had used the blaring red 2:00 am on the hotel's alarm clock as an excuse to strike up a conversation about how both of you wouldn't be able to get any work done the next day if you didn't sleep.

Then came the cuddling because it was cold enough for you to feel like your toes were going to fall off.

But somewhere between the clock striking three and your lips find his, the two of you had found yourself tangled in each other's limbs with a salacious need gnawing at your mind.

This was wrong. Both of you knew it was.

Pro heroes weren't supposed to spend their nights with their fingers stuffed into their side kick's pussy. And side kick certainly were supposed to jerk off their heroes at three in the morning.

Especially not when you were on a trip organized by the hero commission and in a hotel surrounded by dozens of heroes who could easily hear you through the thin walls.

But neither of you seemed to care much about that. Not when every fibre of your being just screamed for that delicious release.

"Shouta- I-"

You wanted to say something, anything at all. But it was hard to do anything but muffle your moans in the pillow beside your head when Aizawa was curling his fingers up into you so perfectly.

"It's okay."

He placed a chaste kiss on your jawline as he spoke, causing a small smile to tug on your lips.

"You ready to go all the way, kitten?"

You silently nodded along to his question, allowing your hand to fall limp around his length just as you felt his hand pull away.

As you watched Shouta shift so that he could tower over you with one hand pressed into the mattress and the other stroking his leaking cock, you couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of yearning consume you.

It made you whine in annoyance at the lack of his touch, a sound that elicited a chuckle from Aizawa as he reached down to finally slide his tip inside you. And then more, and more, until you could feel him bottoming out with a loud groan that drowned out your own moans.

The mattress squeaked below the two of you as you felt him began to pull out and slide back in at a painfully slow pace.

"Shouta!"

This time your call was one of desperation, the sound making him smirk against your neck as he trailed kisses down your hot skin.

"Be patient."

"But-"

He pulled away from your neck at the weak protest, choosing to stare at you with a raised eyebrow even as his hips rolled against yours.

"Trust me, kitten, I know what I'm doing."

He dropped down to place a quick peck on your lips as he spoke, the gesture causing a small smile to tug at the corner of your lips as you silently watched Aizawa reposition himself above you.

"Now, let your pro hero take care of you."

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