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greatooglymooglyyy · 17 days

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It's Never Over (C. S.)

contains: 2nd person pov, angst, somewhat toxic relationship, verbal argument, relationship issues, kissing, smut (softdom!chris), overstimulation, angry/make up sex, unprotected sex, 3.4k words

a/n: hi friends. this is apart of the triple threat event sooo don't forget to go see my babies @luv4kozume and @rootbeerworshiper for two more fics for your smutty needs. j will be posting in one hour and sienna is an hour after that.

masterlist

Maybe we’re too young.

The thought bounces around your head uncontrollably as you watch Chris move silently through the kitchen from your perch on the counter. You haven’t been home long- maybe 10 minutes- but after the day you’ve had, the silence feels like a jab.

“So,” you start, raising your eyebrow as he pulls out a drink and leans against the counter across from you. “How do you think the pictures will turn out?”

He gives you a tired look, seemingly trying to gauge whether your question is a trap. “I actually really fucked with it. It’s a new look for us.”

You two had spent the entire day on the set of a photo and promo shoot for Fresh Love’s new line of products. He was right about it being a new look and he’d gone all out for the launch; the shoot had been completely 90s-themed to match the vibe of the products and he’d recruited some influencers to model.

Not that you were keeping track or anything, but the original idea had been yours and you’d put countless hours in helping him execute it. That isn’t to say you minded at all... at least not until today.

“I’m glad it’s exactly how you envisioned it.” You say, testing the waters unsure if you wanted to raise the issue again.

But Chris takes the bait and groans. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t even say anything, Chris. But I just don’t understand why my input stops being taken seriously as soon as other people are around.”

“Did you ever stop and consider that maybe my photoshoot wasn’t the place for you to start a random ass argument?”

“I wasn’t trying to start one. And my bad, I didn’t realize you stopped being my boyfriend when you walked on a set.” Your eyes narrow as you stare him down, irritation at the situation resurfacing.

He sighs heavily, running a hand over his face. “I don’t but it’d be cool if my girlfriend supported me on days like this instead of adding more stress.”

Your eyes grow wide and you look around dramatically. “I’m sorry? Is that not all I do? Planning with you. Pitching ideas. Running around finding any little thing I can do to help? You wouldn’t even have the new product ideas without me.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, pushing off the counter and stepping closer. “And I’m grateful, baby. You know I am. I’m not saying you’re not important to me. I’m saying it can’t always be about you.”

“Can it sometimes be about me?” You question, feeling like you’re losing your mind. “I would never have an entire photoshoot full of influencers and not even ask you to join. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

“Oh my-” He laughs out harshly, turning away for a second and then turning back. “I knew that’s what this was about. The team wanted people with over a million, not me-”

“And who owns Fresh Love, Chris? Don’t act like you have no control.”

“I own it, but it’s not just me who runs it. How stupid would I be if I hired a marketing team and didn't fucking listen to them?” His voice raises slightly and he shakes his head, attempting to regain composure.

“Probably as stupid as I looked pulling up to the set and looking for hair and makeup. You should have told me.” With that you slide off of the counter, intending to let the argument die there and go to bed but he follows behind you.

“How are you mad at me because you assumed you were modeling? I never said that. I invited you to the set like I do every time because You. Are. My. Girlfriend.” He claps to emphasize his points and you spin to glare at him.

“I’m not just your girlfriend, Chris. I work hard on my content just like you.” You say defensively. The decision to even begin posting was his idea so you can’t believe how unsupported you feel.

“And I'm so proud of you. You know I am.” He says with sincerity, bringing a hand to his chest. “But you aren’t..." His sentence trails off and he gives you an uncomfortable look.

“What?” You challenge, knowing exactly where this is going. “Say it. Tell me how little I matter since I haven’t hit the right numbers yet.”

He rolls his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s business. And they asked for people with reach. What did you want me to do?”

“Fight for me, Chris. That’s what I expected you to do.” You turn and head over to your dresser, snatching out your favorite oversized t-shirt and changing quickly.

Chris leans against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching you intensely until you finally face him with a scowl. “Stop following me.”

“I just can’t believe this is how you want to end this night. Why can’t you celebrate this win with me?” He asks, annoyance coating his tone.

“Go celebrate with Brooke. You two looked comfy today.” You suggest as you pass him to head into the bathroom.

Behind you, he barks out a laugh of disbelief before whispering something under his breath. You don’t even bother asking him to speak up, grabbing your makeup remover instead.

“So what’s that supposed to mean, huh? You're gonna start throwing accusations at me now?” He sounds absolutely over the conversation but won’t walk away to cool off. It’s a flaw you have in common.

“Just saying Addison has twice the followers as her but somehow you put her centerstage. I mean, I thought this was a numbers game.” You say, refusing to look over at him as you lather your face wash.

If you’re being completely honest, it’s not like you actually believe Chris would ever cheat on you. One thing Chris has always been is loyal to a fault. But right now you're itching for a reaction. No matter how you have to get it.

“You have to be fucking kidding.” He says, reacting exactly like you expected him to. “When the fuck would I be cheating on you?”

“How am I supposed to know? People make time for what’s important to them.” You say, letting your voice take on a nonchalant tone as you pat your face dry.

“That’s so fucking stupid and you know it. Look, I’m sorry you’re not where you want to be in your career but don’t take it out on me.” He grinds out, his voice thick with distaste.

You spin to face him, your eyebrows high. There it is. At least he finally said it. “Wow, Chris. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Y/N.” He says, rubbing his eyes roughly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Do you think I could buy a shoutout, Mr. Six Mill? Only if you have time, of course.” You drawl, pressing your hands together into a begging gesture.

“Tell me what you want to hear, baby. Tell me what I need to say to end this conversation.” He says, stepping toward you but you take a step back instead, leaning against the sink.

“How about an apology? How about recognizing that I worked hard on this launch too and deserved to be a part of it? Anything except this condescending bullshit.”

He drops to his knees dramatically, looking up at you with a faux pleading look on his face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Please forgive me.”

You shake your head and curl your lip up in disgust. “Yeah. ‘Cause everything’s a joke, right?”

Chris blows out a huff of irritation and stands up, reaching out to wrap his arms around you and spinning you around to face the mirror. He presses himself into your back and meets your eye in the reflection as he runs his hands up and down your body. “Aren’t you tired of arguing yet?”

Your gaze drops to his hands, watching as he slowly and methodically slides up your oversized t-shirt and rubs teasingly at your inner thighs.

"You know I love you." He whispers, his grip tightening as he trails higher, grazing your heat before dipping his hands back down.

“Do you?” You question childishly, heat flooding your body as his hands travel your skin. He leans in close, the cool breath of his words sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me prove how much.”

Part of you wants to snatch away from him and refuse to reward his arrogance. But there is something so erotic about the way his eyes stay locked on yours as he moves in closer to where you need him most. Without your permission your body melts into his, the muscle memory from every other time he’s made you feel this way activating naturally.

You turn your head to look at him full-on instead of the reflection, the slight flush on his face from the arguing turning you on even more. “Nah. Prove how much you need me.”

If Chris is at all surprised by your demand, he doesn’t show it. He just walks you closer to the sink and spins you around by the waist to face him. His blue eyes are so coated with lust and frustration they seem almost brown under the harsh bathroom lighting.

He lifts you onto the counter, pausing only for the barest of seconds before crashing his lips against yours. The sudden movement pushes the back of your head into the mirror but you barely feel it over the heat and pressure of his kiss.

His hand travels under your shirt, his fingertips grazing your nipple with a frustratingly delicate touch that has you groaning into his mouth. You pull away, drawing a shudder out of him when you lightly nip his bottom lip as you do.

“Stop wasting my time.” You demand, your hands fiddling with the bottom of his shirt in a hint for him to take it off.

He does with a roll of his eyes before he comes back, placing a firm hand on the back of your neck and bringing you closer. “You can drop the attitude now. You know you want this just as much as I do.”

Pain flashes through you again briefly as you consider the possibility that this is the only thing you two will ever agree on wanting but you push it down and lean in to run a tongue over his collarbone. “Shut up and prove it like you said you would.”

A smirk grows across his face before he nods and kneels down slowly, pushing open your legs and roughly snatching off your thin underwear. Pushing your legs open wider, he buries his face in your inner thighs and peppers lingering kisses on them as he trails closer to your heat.

When he finally reaches it, it’s clear he’s not done taking his time as he runs his tongue through your folds purposefully avoiding where you want him most. You push at his shoulders in annoyance and he chuckles darkly, only making your wetness grow despite yourself.

The first kiss he places on your clit is slow and shallow before he leans back to find your eyes. “I always forget how fucking pretty you are.” He says as he smooths a thumb over you before diving back in with a new urgency.

There’s reverence in the way his tongue circles your clit, the movements somehow both precise and desperate. Before you even realize what you’re doing, you find yourself grinding your hips up to chase your pleasure, pathetic whimpers falling from your lips.

You don’t need to glance down to feel his eyes on you, baby blue and laser-focused as he peers up to gauge your reaction, alternating expertly between sucking and flicking his tongue. But instead of giving him the reaction he wants, you press your fist into your mouth and work to keep your face a mask. You’re determined to grant him as little praise as possible, leftover anger spurring on your pettiness.

Smiling against your core at the challenge, he readjusts his hold on you, slinging one of your legs lazily onto his shoulder before locking his arms around your thighs to keep you still. He pulls fully away and you finally snap your eyes to his, a protest on the tip of your tongue.

“I can do this all night and still make sure you never come. Stop playing with me.” His voice is like velvet as he warns you, not even pausing for your response before he buries himself back in. He taps your leg, signaling for you to hold it before he readjusts to add his fingers, swirling them around teasingly before pumping them inside to stretch you out.

All of your pride flies out the window as he fucks into you with his fingers, finding your g spot easily and caressing it. Flinging your head from side to side and calling his name wildly, you feel a familiar pressure building inside of you. “Please, Chris.” You beg as you tangle your hands into his hair.

His pace only increases when he realizes you are close, his moans against your clit sending vibrations through your body and driving you even crazier. You tug his hair lightly as your body tightens and grind your hips against his fingers to ride out your orgasm.

Chris pauses and removes his fingers slowly before placing one last kiss on your throbbing heat. He comes up with his breathing unsteady and a look of pure triumph on his face as he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

Your legs are still trembling slightly as you slide off of the counter and pull his face down to yours. This kiss feels different, like coming home, and you can tell he feels the same. He kisses you back like he loves you like the taste of you is air and he’s suffocating.

It’s been a while since you two were desperate enough to leave marks on each other’s skin but he does tonight. And you let him without a single thought to the effort of covering them up, too focused on his tongue working over the sweet spots of your neck.

You reach down fumbling with his belt impatiently as your breathing goes ragged, and free his hardened length, stroking it slowly.

His lips freeze on your throat as he thrusts into your hand before he yanks away and spins you back around, pressing his palm into your back and kicking your feet apart to give him access.

You feel his tip nudge against your entrance, slipping down further to tease your clit briefly, your only warning before he slides inside of you. A cry tears out of you as he rolls his hips into yours, bottoming out.

You’re still soaked from your orgasm but as he stretches you out around him, you feel yourself coat him even more and he groans. “My pretty girl. Best fucking feeling in the world.” He pushes your shirt further up your back, his fingertips trailing your spine lightly as he continues to thrust into you.

Squirming with a need for him to go faster, you push your hips up to meet his, forcing him deeper and making you both curse. He takes the hint, wrapping his hand tightly around your shirt for leverage before setting a brutal rough pace.

Your vision starts to blur so you close them as you try to hold on to the counter for stability. With your eyes squeezed tightly closed, it’s almost easy to pretend the tears swelling up are from the intensity of the moment and not from everything that came before.

Because it’s nothing if not intense, your stomach pressing into the sink as he slams inside of you roughly. His free hand grips the counter so hard his knuckles turn white and he keeps up his insane pace. His name slips from your mouth as a moan, seeming to spur him on as he increases his tempo even more.

“That’s right, baby. What’s my name?” The sound of his voice barely breaks through your fucked out trance and you lift your head to see him through the mirror.

The sight of him almost pushes you right over the edge immediately and you watch him in a sort of fascination. The way his muscles strain with his movement, his slightly open mouth before he bites down on his bottom lip. But it’s the wink he throws you when he notices you watching that has you contracting around him for the second time tonight.

This orgasm tears through you like a wave and you lose all control as Chris fucks you through it, never missing a stroke. If you had it in you to be embarrassed right now, you would be mortified at the things you say at this moment. Making promises, calling him names you never thought you’d utter, telling him exactly who you belong to.

When you come down, Chris’ pace slows and he pulls you up to face him. He watches you tenderly before he lifts the shirt from over your head and kisses you deeply.

He leads you to your bedroom and lays you down at the center of the bed, climbing on top of you slowly.

He enters you again with a gasp and you bring your mouth up to his to swallow it, his hand traveling up to lightly circle your neck. You moan in contentment and he makes a sound of approval from the back of his throat as he begins to thrust.

His strokes are slow and as deep as he can make them, his hands roaming your body as his tongue explores your mouth. There’s emotion laced in every snap of his hip and you know him well enough to understand every message. I love you. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.

Pleasure coils around you as his thumb finds your clit and circles it, coaxing you closer to the finish line as he drops his head near your ear. His hips stuttering tell you he’s close and you bring your mouth up to his ear to whisper. “Come for me.”

He groans loudly in response, fighting not to lose control yet. “You first.”

“I already did!”

“I don’t care. Give me one more.”

At his words, he pulls himself up and angles himself deeper, finding your g spot and plowing into it mercilessly. You drag your nails down his back, yours arching up off the bed. “Chris, I can’t.”

He shushes you softly, his lips claiming yours again as he continues to push into you. Ultimately it’s his muffled moan of “fuck” against your mouth that sends you over the edge, your face screwed up from an erotic mix of ecstasy and exhaustion.

You know you can’t take much more but Chris follows right behind you, dropping his head on your shoulder and moaning your name into it.

You lay there breathing heavily, skin to skin, for a while before you tap his back and he slides out of you. Awkwardness settles between you, so thick you’re not sure what to do with it so you stand wordlessly and head for a shower.

Your thoughts race as you scrub the remnants of him off your skin. The words you threw back and forth play on repeat in your brain as you wonder how to fix what’s between you before it’s too late.

The bathroom door opens and you watch through the streamy glass as Chris settles on the counter. The same counter he had you bent over not long ago.

You step out of the shower and grab your robe, all the while avoiding his eye contact. This is the part you hate the most. The part that never ends. Because neither of you knows how to force it to end.

He clears his throat, gesturing for you to come to him when you finally meet his eyes. Once you are standing between his legs, he pushes your wet hair out of your face gently as he studies your face. “You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

The nod you give is reluctant and slow. It’s never been a question of if Chris loves you. Just a question of whether he appreciates you.

But he continues this time, his eyes holding a fierce sort of intensity. “I’d give this all up for us if I had to. My whole platform if it means I can wake up next to you.”

Your breath hitches at this and you feel the tears threatening to fall so you bury your face in his shoulder, letting him pull your body into his.

And you hope. Hope that his words are more than just words. Hope that you’re not too young to keep each other from slipping between your fingers.

A/N: thanks so much for reading my loves. don't forget to head over to my girl @luv4kozume's page in exactly one hour for her new matt smut. 🗣️

🏷️/ @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos @teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @clemlament @maryx2xx @fwskullz

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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AITA for asking my partner not to talk about how happy he is that Ghandi was assassinated?

I hope this doesn't get too long! 🍀

I (26, F) am Irish Australian, my partner (33, M) is Sikh. He's shared many beautiful things about his culture with me, and has a thoughtful way of describing the relationship between Sikh history and current culture.

However I get a bit uncomfortable when he talks about how Gandhi was assassinated by a Sikh person. I know enough about Gandhi to be aware that while he might've had some good impact, he had plenty of underreported bad too. But I don't pretend to understand the extent of it all.

I also understand what a complex thing that sort of cultural history is, my family joke about being proud of the assassination of Mountbatten by the IRA. But we keep that talk behind closed doors, it requires more understanding of the Troubles than the average person has. Also, joking about death is a bit nasty unless you know everyone is comfortable

My issue with my partner is that when he talks about Gandhi's death he's not speaking with a historical context. He gets very serious and sits up all tall and says proudly that Sikhs are a warrior race and they fucking delivered. He has done this in company and in private and it's always very intense and a mood killer, he is not joking at all. I think that level of confident pride in the death of another is kinda messed up

So, I asked him to not talk about it in such a full on way. He refused to apologise because he is proud of it and he said that he's glad they did it (I appreciate his honestly there). I asked if he would be pleased to see a similar event play out today, a Sikh assassinating a major political influencer. He said he would be happy and asked the same of me regarding Mountbatten (this had come up in the conversation, obviously I'm paraphrasing, the whole thing was pretty upsetting tbh) and I said no cos it's not an active war. Also, that I don't actually stand behind that I'm just comfortable with the complexity of it to joke with my family and still know people understand where I stand. Like, the IRA killed his kids too. The whole time was fucked.

He said he's not joking. He, gently, said I was being a bit of a hypocrite. He didn't promise to not talk about Gandhi, but hasn't brought it up since. I feel like he's pretty unhappy about it

I dunno, I asked him without really thinking about it all and I think he makes a good point about the Mountbatten parallel. I'm not sure if the difference in my feelings is my own ethics or just me being a bit racist. And it's not his job to make me not be racist if I've got some stuff to work through. But still, I think if it was any culture I'd be uncomfortable with that much aggressive pride in murder. Like, I've grown up in a country without a death penalty, death is not something people can dole out imo, and his approval of it is so absolute and genuine, there's no pulling the punch. Unlike my way of talking about Mountbatten.

So, AITA for asking my partner to stop talking about his pride in a Sikh person assassinating Gandhi?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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bratphilia · 6 months

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his bunny (w. afton x reader)

request: "hii!! i have been obsessed with your lillard!afton fics lately and i just have to ask you to write another. i was wondering if you could do something like afab! reader is a student in college and william is her engineering professor? she is purposefully failing his class just to get his attention and some “extra credit”. but little does she know william has been obsessed with her ever since she stepped foot in his class. if it helps, teachers pet by melanie martinez could have a huge influence on this. thank you so so much!! ♡♡"

note: thank you so much, i'm glad you've been enjoying the content i've been putting out! fun fact i was obsessed with this song when k-12 first came out. also professor!william has been on my mind recently so i'm glad you requested this!! the e-mail section is a little awkward because i absolutely hate using "y/n"

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: age gap (reader is college age 18-21 and william is 45-50), creepy and stalking behavior from william, oral sex (m receiving), facial, dirty talk, slut-shaming, mean dom!william, desk sex

engineering. your worst class. not because you were bad at it or anything. it was all your professor.

and no, not because he's a bad teacher either. he's just so fucking hot it makes your brain go fuzzy every time he speaks. he lectures with his large hands enthusiastically. he always wears some form of purple on him, whether it's a tie or his slacks. everything about him is so intoxicating.

but he's never noticed you.

not when you try to catch his eye before and after class. not when you greet him with a "good morning, sir." and every time you've attended his office hours, a fucking ta helps you every single time. it's making you go crazy, not getting what you want.

you even started to wear increasingly skimpier outfits. you always stick to a theme of a sexy school girl, even going as far enough to buy more short skirts and thigh high socks or leg warmers. the buttons of the blouses you wear paired with them are always unbuttoned just to show a peak of cleavage. you ignore the hungry and curious eyes of your other peers as you walk by them; it's not their attention you want. still, you feel a little silly putting in all this effort just for him to barely grumble a reply back to you at your futile efforts to talk to him.

so you put a plan in action. you either purposefully turn in every piece of homework late and answer most, if not all, the questions of your quizzes and mid-term until you're sure you're at the very bottom of the class grades-wise.

in fact, you wake up the day after your mid-term to an e-mail from professor raglan. the subject was titled "Meeting Request" with your name addressed at the beginning.

"I would like to arrange a meeting with you to discuss the current state of your progress in my class. After your most recent assessment and previous assignments, I'm concerned about your future in my class if you continue the pattern I am seeing reflected in your work. Let me know if tonight at 5:00pm works for you.

Thank you,

Professor Raglan"

any regular person's heart would have sunk to the pit of their stomach if they received that e-mail. however, you are not a normal person. your heart fucking soars. you immediately jump to respond in confirmation.

professor raglan knows better than to get caught up with students, but he just can't help it! you're too beautiful to ignore.

the craziest part is he knows what game you're playing. the outfits that reflect nothing but a stereotypical, sexy school girl you would see in a porn video. and especially the way your grades have dropped recently, when you started off being one of the brightest students in his class.

over time, he noticed your lack of participation in class. at first, he chalked it up to something more serious, like personal issues. and then he noticed those lingering stares, the way you chew your pen, twirl your hair, and rub your thighs together. he knows exactly what you're doing, and he's been ignoring you on purpose. he wants you to chase after him, to let him know what you really want, but you just won't. he partially doesn't blame you either, it would be highly inappropriate for a student to engage that way towards their professor. so he ignores you during class. he barely acknowledges the way you've tried to grab his attention.

steve more than reciprocates your feelings. in fact, he's probably more enamored with you than you can possible imagine. he has all your homework, your essays, even your mid-term saved digitally in a folder, with your name as the title, on his computer. he reads looks over them when he's taking a break from grading as a way to detox, which sometimes ends up in him masturbating thinking about you. he loves to read the failed work from his dumb little bunny.

he even followed you home once. he kept close distance away from you, hiding in the shadows of every corner you turned. it's the william in him that wants that does the stalking, he convinces himself. the hyde to his jekyll; his true self coming to show in the role he plays of an average college professor, a totally normal guy with a few quirks.

your room, conveniently let him catch a peep of you touching yourself, and you swore you saw you mouth the word 'professor' when you brought yourself to orgasm.

and so he decides to play your little game. after all, you created the perfect opportunity for him, and he's going to take the bait.

steve sits at his desk, grading the rest of the mid-term papers, while he awaits your arrival. your own paper is sitting separate from the other stack, easily accessible so the two of you can get straight to "talking" about it as soon as possible.

he hears a tell-tale knock at his door, and he tries not to answer with a smile in his voice as he calls out, "come in."

you open the door gingerly, and it takes everything in him not to eye you up and down, but at first glance he knows you're in your usual get-up. it's a pretty little number; white, short-sleeved blouse, black pleated skirt that stops around mid-thigh, and white socks that reach just above your knees. you smile at him, hands clasped behind your back, puffing forward your chest slightly.

"good evening, professor raglan," you say in an oh-so innocent tone, "you wanted to speak with me?"

god, the way you call him professor goes straight to his cock. "yes. sit down," he tells you, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk.

you sit down and your professor clasps his hands, leaning back in his chair. "i hope my e-mail didn't worry you. this will be quick."

he watches your face fall at his last few words and he has to bite back his amusement. "you see," he starts, taking your paper and pretending to look at your paper, "you didn't answer a single thing correctly. everything was wrong. it's funny, because i've heard nothing but good reports from the ta's that have helped you during office hours."

you lean closer as he continues. a plethora of excuses come to mind, none of which seem adequate for the situation he's putting it. "so i'm just wondering, how dumb do you think i am?"

your mouth slightly falls open. that was not the reaction you intended to invoke from him. "i—i can explain, i just need more—"

he rolls his eyes. "don't give me that. i'm not an idiot like you clearly are."

if anyone else had called you an idiot, you would have been offended, but from him? it goes straight to your pussy.

you purse your lips and rub your thighs together, waiting for him to continue to berate you. "is it extra credit you want?"

"yes, professor," you answer.

"then get on your knees, slut."

he rolls his chair back to make room for you and watches as you make your way in front of him. you get on your knees as he instructed, waiting expectantly.

"do i have to do everything for you?" he sighs in faux disappointment. he loves your shocked reaction that this is even really happening to you. "you wanted this so take my cock out."

"no, professor," you mumble, reaching for the buttons of his slacks. there's an obvious bulge tenting in his pants that almost makes you salivate.

you pull out his cock from his boxers and he shivers at how cold your hands are. you must be freezing wearing that outfit, he realizes. and, fuck, are your hands so much smaller that his. you begin by pumping him and then reach to kitten lick his tip.

you start to suck on the tip and he sucks air between his teeth sharply. it feels like heaven but he can't take your teasing anymore. he grasps your hair, making a make shift ponytail, and guides your mouth to slowly lower down on his cock. you moan around him causing a pleasurable vibration. he continues to use your hair as a way to control your mouth moving in a slow, up and down motion.

"ah — shit — stay still for me, yeah, baby?" he asks breathlessly. you do as he says, keeping your neck still as he begins to thrust into your mouth.

he bucks into you, grunting about what a "tight mouth you have" and how "you're such a dirty whore for your professor." you moan around his cock at his words, only encouraging his movements. the gurgling and gawk noises coming from your throat make him impossibly harder. the grasp on your hair becomes tighter and his thrusts more erratic. he's close.

before steve comes, he moves your mouth off and begins pumping himself. you watch him eagerly as he never breaks eye contact from you. when he does, it's when he shuts his eyes and groans, spurts of his come painting your face, your neck, and top.

you look so beautiful like this, he thinks, but it comes out as, "you look like such a messy whore."

you blush and lick the ejaculate around your mouth. steve grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet. you feel a little unstable but he's pushing you face forward against his desk. he lifts your skirt, which he doesn't bother taking off, only to reveal your thong. of course.

"were you expecting this?" he asks with a chuckle. he pulls your thong and lets it snap against your ass, making you yelp.

"no, but i came prepared," you say boldly.

he tsks. "such a slut."

steve prods his cock at your entrance, making you wiggle your hips when he slides it up and down your slit. you wish he would just stick it in already, but he's bent on teasing you until you can't take it anymore. he wants you to beg for him.

he moves your hair to the side to whisper in your ear. "tell me what you want, bunny."

you whimper at the close proximity. you can feel his beard brushing against your cheek. "need your cock, sir. been wanting it for awhile."

"oh, i know," he says, and you can feel the smile spreading across his face. "just wanted to hear you say it."

with that he presses inside of you, filling you up inch by inch, agonizingly slow. you whine desperately, wanting more. your fingers dig into the desk. he slips out for a moment and slams back in, filling you to the hilt. from that point forward, he starts thrusting at gradually faster pace.

the room is obscenely filled with the sounds of both of your pants and the sounds of skin slapping against skin. he punctuates every thrust with a degrading phrase. it gets you even hotter.

before you know it you're close. clawing behind you, desperate to grab something, he takes both of your hands and holds them against the desk, giving a flurry of hard, fast thrusts. moans and whines tumble from your lips as you feel your body completely captured by an orgasm that makes you weak in the knees.

steve pulls out and comes on your back with a groan himself, incoherently slurring words of "whore" "slut" and "dumb bunny." he buries his face in the crook of your neck, attitude completely doing a 360.

"you did so well for me, sweetheart."

#fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #steve raglan #william afton #william afton x reader

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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

Note

AH‼️ It's 🫶 anon, good to hear that you did, indeed, receive at least one of my ramblings! You're truly one of my favourite hazbin writers :)) the way you write fluff is immaculate! Your fluff smells of coconut dish soap and freshly cleaned clothes, but without fabric softener because you're efficient and know that fabric softener is a scam. I am so glad to hear that you enjoyed my long talk about Velvette! I doubted it would have turned out well considering I am ace/aro (shoutout to alastor🗣🗣📢) and well, as I predicted, it could have went better ahaha x-)).

Well! I always deliver on my promises! So, i will give more romantic headcannons for Velvette (because as you may have noticed, I am more of a pining kind of person and forgot to write the romance part of the romantic relationship with her, so, use this ask as a.. apology of sorts?) And, one of my next asks will be those awaited nsfw headcannons haha^^

So‼️ now that your relationship has really started, there are a couple paths this could go in (all equally adorable if you ask me)

Our reader is a weak demon!

In this case, this entire situation is a little more hillarious than it would be if the reader were stronger ahaha:)) anyway! Velvette would probably have your safety on her mind 25/8. She is only eased in her anxiety because, well, she doesn't exactly allow you out of her sight. She's working? You're sitting next to her watching as her new collection comes to life.

Nobody gets to be close to you! Nuh uh! She isn't as bad as Vox to the point where she doesn't even let you see your friends with how nightmarishly bratty he'd get if you did go see them, but she is quite assertive when she thinks it is "too much".

Sometimes she sees you as too valuable for the low-lives you interact with among the weaker demons, and, if you cannot tell the signs of that thought creeping into her head, she might just start whining about how awful all your friends are. Insessantly.

She isn't aware that it is a manipulation tactic, pointing out their flaws all the time, that is. If you do inform her that it is wrong to do such things, I regret to inform her that you're out of luck. Her "friends" are more business partners than anything, and slandering them to you is one of her favourite activities; "fuck, you deserve to be an overlord WAYY more than any of the losers in that meeting. UGH. They're so annoying, it's crazy. Oh also did I tell you? That old fuck was at the meeting! Oh, which one? I don't fucking know his stupid name, but I think it's the one Vox has his panties in a twist about.. oh oh! Hear this-" it is her favourite part of the day, really. The only people she found tolerable in her work were those who agreed with her all the time, and the didn't pay much mind to them honestly. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer", it seems. So, it is hard for her to grasp why you didn't want her to slander the people you held close.

She will make an effort to complain about them less, though, but only after you managed to put her in the right track to having a mature discussion about it. You two agreed that you'd see them a little less, and, she'd stop complaining about them as much. Her point wasn't irrational, she says that these demons were horrible influences for you. This is hell, after all, you couldn't argue with that. But it was also the best you could be getting in terms of friends in hell, so, the compromise was thus reached.

Or...

The reader is a strong demon!

Her worries are eased by the knowledge of your power, she'd be lying if she said she didn't find it the least bit attractive. Seeing you stand up to vox or any other overlord, while both you, her and the overlord knew you could probably beat them in a fight, was so... entertaining, to the both of you. Your social footing also didn't allow you to be attached at the hip with her, which upset her. At least she knew you were safe!

You two were an absolute power duo, with you being openly in a relationship to the public or not, all of social media couldn't shut up about the two of you. She loved watching edits of you both online, but she'd never tell you that. If you were to peek into her phone, various tabs and apps are opened on discussion boards where hundreds of demons exclaimed their want to be in either her's or your position. It made her feel powerful to see how much people wanted you, however weird that may seem. It didn't make her the least bit jealous, no; knowing that she is the one that caught your undivided attention and love while hundreds others would kill to be in her position felt good. Though, she already knew she was desired, so, the ego boost from posts that said "I wish I was velvette right here（´ 3｀)" attached to a picture of you holding her waist as you held out a flower for her with a smile brought her far more satisfaction than the ones where people wanted to be you.

Being able to use the "do you know who we are??" Argument whenever something didnt go the way you two pleased was basically an automatic response from her. She is very powerful on her own, but loves the scary dog privileges you bring along.

Never the matter of which category the reader is, please do compliment her on her designs! Approval and praise have always been a driving force in her life, but, she didn't really care for people's opinions as much, because she doesnt care about who those people are! She's a devout follower of the "I won't take criticism from someone who isn't contributing for my life" mindset. What are those people doing for her? Giving her money? Organizing her bedroom? Didn't think so.

But you? Gosh you were the summer in the coldest of winters! Being with you brought Velvette so much joy, it was no wonder your opinion mattered.

The fashion in hell took a noticeable turn for whatever you enjoy after you started dating her ahaha:)) being it a different color scheme or you for whatever reason really liking 80's exercise sets with those ridiculously large leg warmers, within the mountains of red beautiful elegant dresses she made, a pop of other colors could be spotted. If you were out to the public, she would proudly announce that you were her muse for the piece, praises of how innovative the style was amidst the current fashion of the Pride ring. Needless to say, with all of her praise about it, the clothes you inspired sold out much quicker than others.

Giving her little gifts and such made her quite happy. She loved expensive, beautiful rings and jewelry and all things shiny, but, what really got to her were the things you made or that reminded you of her. You baked cupcakes based off of her looks? AGH! That is SO adorable! Expect it to be posted all over her social media profiles that very same day. You drew her in a dress you came up with yourself because her work inspired you so much? She might just actually die again. Even if you're a horrible designer, she will still be so flattered.

Oh well! What are your thoughts? Also, I'm thinking about starting to use my actual account to send asks, mainly because I am an artist and made more than one piece inspired by your wonderful works, and I'd love to share them with you. Do you think I should?

I might also send things about sir pentious, vox, lucifer, husk, basically everyone haha! I actually have some things about mimzy in mind. But, most scary of all, I am madly in love with the absolute scumbag we call Adam. Hopefully you don't mind hearing the most deranged thoughts I have regarding him ahaha x-)) maybe I'll even convince you to write for that loser! Who knows.

I await your insight :)))

- a very excited 🫶 anon

OH MY GOD? 🫶 ANON YOU’VE STRUCK GOLD ONCE AGAIN! There’s so much to unpack here oh my gosh where do I start?

I love how protective Velvette is over a weak reader. Her possessiveness is written in a very in-character way. Because I do think she would be incredibly possessive but I don’t think she would fully understand how possessive she was being, like she would just think this is the correct way to react simply because it’s how she thought to react. Of course she’d lighten up as much as she could after a serious talk, just as you said.

I also think that Velvette with a strong reader is soooo interesting oh my god. Like the power couple you two would be, OH AND WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT THE EDITS? Absolutely. She would eat that shit up, and definitely feed the public with cute photos and videos of you two. Oh and when you said she finds the readers power attractive, oh yea she does. Shes incredibly turned on, to say the least. All of her models and workers kiss her ass so much, that the fact you don’t kneel down to Velvette like everyone else literally does something to her.

Also I absolutely adore the words of affirmations and gift giving love language as the ones she likes to receive. Gift giving is 100% for her like she eats that shit up. To be honest, still think she appreciates an acts of service reader BUT words of affirmation is an interesting one for sure. It takes a long time, and I mean a long time, for someone to earn her respect. But when this happens, there opinion of her starts to actually matter, which is obviously a kind of rare thing. So she so loves compliments and praise and lots of things to feed her ego.

Anyways, those are my thoughts on the Velvette headcanons! I eat your writing up every time!

NOW ONTO THE OTHER THINGS!!

So let me start off by saying, I am SO INCREDIBLY, STUPENDOUSLY, TOTALLY interested in your thoughts on the other characters, Lucifer, Sir Pentious, Husk, Vox, Adam, etc. I’m specifically interested in your thoughts on Mimzy because even though she’s on my characters list, I don’t have many thoughts on her myself. So I am very curious as to what you’re thinking.

Also very close to writing for Adam, but I’d love for you to try to convince me.

ALSO about you using and actual account to send asks, GO FOR IT!!??? WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT BEING AN ARTIST… oh boy i’m intrigued. AND YOU’VE MADE THINGS INSPIRED BY MY WORKS? Don’t make me blush, babes, oh my god??!!

“Your fluff smells of coconut dish soap and freshly cleaned clothes, but without fabric softener because you're efficient and know that fabric softener is a scam.”

I LOVE YOU. SPECIFIC COMPLIMENTS LIKE THIS ARE EVERYTHING TO ME. HAVE THE BEST DAY OF YOUR LIFE, YOUR AMAZING.

THIS IS BIMBO, SIGNING OFF.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel velvette #inbox open #hazbin velvette #velvet hazbin hotel #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel vees

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footballfanficwriter · 5 months

Text

Get dressed we're going out

Summary:where Jude and the reader go on a date

"Babe are you ready?"

"Yeah I am"

"C'mon let's go then"

I walk down the stairs and see Jude waiting for me

"You look great"

"Thank you"

"Ok let's go then pretty lady"

We walk out the house holding hands and walking towards the car

He opens the door for me and I thank him

"I've got so many things planned out for us today" he says sounding excited

"Oh yeah?, what are those things?"

"A suprise"

"C'mon tell me"

"If I told you babe then it wouldn't be a surprise"

"Jude you do this to me every time"

"And in the end you always love it"

"You know I'm glad we're doing this, it's been such a long time since we've been on a date and spent time together alone"

"Yeah, I feel the same, but tonight we're gonna have the best time"

"What are we even gonna do"

"You'll see"

We drive until we see a restaurant called Ramón Freixa Madrid

"Hi reservation for Bellingham"

"Yes Mr. Bellingham we have been waiting for you, right this way"

We follow the lady to our reserved table and Jude pulls out a chair for me"

"Well thank you sir"

"You welcome madame, I hope you don't mind, I got us a window seat so we can look at the view"

"Nope I don't mind, in fact I love it, it reminds me about when we started dating"

"Oh yeah when we first met and you'd sneak out of the house just to come see me"

"Yeah you were really a bad influence on me back then you know" I say laughing

"No I wasn't"

"Yes you were Jude"

"Well at least you enjoyed it, you were always that girl that was always cooped up in the house and never left the yard unless it to take the garbage out"

"The house was a fun place to be in"

"Sure" he says looking at me with a certain way

"It was stop looking at me like that"

"If it was such a great place to in then would I catch you staring out the window watching other kids play"

"Ok fine but you were still a bad influence"

"Whatever makes you sleep at night darling" he says taking my hand and placing it on his lips making me blush

*flash*

"What was that?" I say turning to The window to see 5 paparazzis standing outside the restaurant and taking pictures

"Who told them we were here" Jude asks rhetorically

He stands up, grabs my hand and starts walking towards the exit only to be met with paparazzi and fans holding Real Madrid shirts and posters of Jude and his teammates

"I'm sorry guys not today please, I'm on a date with my wife right now" he says in the most genuine voice

"Go ahead" I say

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I don't mind" I say trying not to sound a bit disappointed

He starts grabbing one of the marker that the Fan is holding in their hands and starts signing shirts and poster and taking pictures

I find a wall and lean against the wall until he finishes

2 hours later

When Jude is finished with the fans he takes my hand and starts walking to the car

When we enter the car there is a silence until he breaks it

"I'm sorry my love"

"It's ok, I'm the one that told you to go so don't be sorry"

"But don't worry the night is still young" he says with a smile on his face that I can't help but mirror

He starts the car's engine and drives to a forest looking place

"You're not planning on killing me are you?"

"This is what happens when you watch them murder documentaries all the time"

I laugh at his comment and he chuckles as well

"Ok we're here" he says

He gets out the car and opens my door for me he offers his hand and i take it while thanking him

He walks to the boot and grabs a few things before walking towards me to take my hand

"What's in the bag?" I ask as we start walking into the woods

"You'll see" he says

"It's giving serial killer bro"

"Babe stop I'm not going to kill you, I love you too much to do that"

"Maybe that's the problem, you love me so much that you can't bare to see me with anyone that's not you so if you can't have me then no one can"

"Is that what you're always watching at night before you come to bed?"

"I saw an episode like that once you know"

He flicks my forehead

"Ouch, Jude, what was that for?"

"I was checking to see if my wife has a brain"

"She clearly doesn't if she married a person like you"

"You know you've just insulted the both of us"

"It was worth it"

"But that flick actually hurt you know" I say

"I'm sorry my love" he says and kisses the part on my forehead where he flicked me

"This is our stop" he says

The place is a circle of trees and in the middle being a pond that us surrounded by the trees and reflecting the bright stars in the sky

Jude sets the bag down and starts taking things out, a marker, a lighter, a candle, and something that looks lie a what plastic bag but more fragile almost like a floppy weak piece of thin paper

"What's all this" I ask

"You and I are each going to get one of these Yi Peng Lanterns ( those flying glowing things from tangled) and we're going to write what we want in our future together, then we light them up and let them go so they can come true"

"Aww babe I love that idea,that's so cute"

I kiss him and he kisses me back

"Ok let's get on with it the I say pulling away"

"Tease" he says

"Only for you babe"

I grab one of the lanterns and start writing what I want in my Future with Jude:

In my Future with my husband I want us to still be in love even years after we've gotten married, I want to us to be like one of those old couples that still love eachother in their old age and I want my bond with Jude to become stronger the longer we're together, as well as to share a lovely family that is filled of laughter, happiness, love and respect.

"Are you done writing" he asks

"Yeah" I say

"Ok before we light them and let them go we need to read each other's" he says

"Ok" I say and we swap lanterns and the minute I see his I don't wheather to laugh or to be angry because all his says is "Kids" in bold with 12 stick figures underneath it yes I counted them

"Jude what the hell?"

" why are the 12 stick figures with the word kids above it?"

"Because that's what I want in our Future"

"12 kids?"

"A line up and a sub"

"Really?"

"I already said our children are going to be playing football"

"Here I am writing a heartfelt message and you thinking about kids only?, so you don't want our relationship to become stronger?"

"I do babe, it's just that kids were the first thing to come to my mind"

"So you just wanna turn me into a baby making machine?"

"No, no ,no babe it's not like that"

"Then what is it?"

"It's just that children are known to represent the love of two people and us having 12 children represents how much I care and love you" he says and pulls me into his chest

" we are not having 12 children, four is the maximum" I say into his chest

"Fine, let's light the Lanterns up, I have one more suprise after this" he says

We let go of eachother and and he hands me one of the lighters he brought

I light my candle but it's a bit difficult with the wind blowing

"Shit" I hear

I turn my head to see Jude's Lantern on fire he holds the burning Lantern in his hands and starts walking around I stand up and try helping him

"Jude let go of the Lantern, drop it"

He instantly drops it but it lands on my lantern causing my lantern to catch on fire

"Oh my gosh what the hel-"

" Jude do something" I say but he is too busy blowing on his hands

So I kick the burning lanterns into the pond and watch the fire start to decrease and whatever is left over of the lanterns sinks into the water

"Well that didn't go according to plan" he says as we watch the left over paper sink into the water

"Are you ok?" I ask looking at him

"Yeah my hands were just burning up"

"Ok"

"C'mon let's go, the night is still small, or whatever the hell Niki Minaj said" he said

I laugh at him and he takes my hand and we make our way back to the car

We get into the car and we sit in silence with music playing in the background and his hand on my thigh slowly caressing it

I'm surprised to see us stop at the western park

"Why are we here ?"

"Stop asking questions and let's go" he says going to the boot again this time coming back with a basket

We walk to a small patch of the park where no one will interrupt us.

"We having a picnic" he says

"Really?"

"Well people mostly have picnics during the day in the daytime, but I just had to be different and marry a person who prefers the night almost like a married a vampire"

"I'm not anything like a vampire they suck people's blood and stuff I don't do that"

"You might not suck people's blood but you do suck other things"

"Yeah, lollipops"

"Those as well"

"Ok stop being dirty minded, you idiot"

I open the basket and take a blanket out and lay it on the floor as Jude sets everything up and organizes

After everything has been set we sit on the blanket and just talk and eat some food while sharing laughter and making jokes

"What were you even doing for the thing to catch on fire?" I ask

"It was the wind it had blown the top part of the lantern into the lighter"

"You know what part got me though?" I say

"Which part?"

"The part where you were doing high knees, holding the lantern and blowing on it that took everything in me not to laugh" I say laughing

"Yeah, I'm glad you enjoyed the show, we'll be here same time next week" he says sarcastically

I continue to laugh as he looks at me with soft eyes and leans into for a kiss and I don't hesitate to kiss him back

"I love you" he says

" I love you too" I say and lean in for another

Until I feel drop of water in my arm and in one go the sprinklers start spraying us with water and getting us soaked and along with it or food

Jude stands up and I do the same, he grabs the blanket what I grab the basket and we start running to the car

We get into the car and throw everything into the backseat

"Well that didn't go according to plan, again"

"Why were you running like that?"

"Like what?"

"A duck"

"I was not"

"Babe I was running behind you I know what i saw"

"Stop making fun of me"

"Ok, I'll stop"

"Let's go home"

"Yeah let's"

The drive home was a funny one as Jude and I were talking about the events of to night and why had happened

When we get home the first thing I do is take me heels off

"I'm going to take a shower" I say

I pick out a shirt from Jude's wardrobe that I know will look like a dress on me and head to the bathroom, open the water and start taking a shower as I finish my shower moisturize myself and put Jude's shirt on

When all of a sudden I smell something burning from downstairs

I quickly run downstairs to see my whole kitchen covered in smoke and my husband with with nothing but his dress pants on and an apron holding a cloth and trying to get rid of the smoke

"Haven't you played with enough fire for the night?"

"I know, I just thought you'd be hungry when you got out of the shower so I thought I'd prepare something for you"

"Aww babe you did have to"

"Well I guess it was useless since I nearly burned our house down"

"It's ok honey it's the fact that you tried that matters, go take a shower I'll clean this up and order Chinese, it'll all be ready by the time you're done"

"Are you sure?"

" yeah go ahead I've got this"

"Ok"

He walks up stairs and I start cleaning up the mess but not before ordering the food

After about an hour I'm done cleaning up and as if on Queue the door bell rings

I go and answer it and and pay the delivery guy and bring the food to the kitchen and set everything down

When I feel a pair of arms around my waist and he nuzzles his head into my neck

"Hey"

"You smell good" he says

"Thank you"

"Are you ok ?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Great"

"Ok let's go have this in the room then and then we can watch a movie"

"Ok" he says

I grabbed the food and offer him my outstretched hand and he takes it we walk up the stairs holding hands and prepare for bed

After getting into bed an getting comfortable we decide to watch A Bronx tale

"Sometimes I feel like I married an old man"

"Sometimes I feel like I married a little girl"

"Jude you can't say that, that sounds so wrong what the hell?"

He laughs at me and says

"I'm joking"

"Yeah whatever"

We watch the movie in silence until he suddenly pauses it

"What's wrong?"

"I just realized I didn't apologize"

"For what Jude"

"Ruining our date"

"If I hadn't interacted with those fans you wouldn't have been leaning against the wall waiting for me to finish, I just realized I put the fans before my very own wife and when I was given the choice to choose between the fans or my wife, I chose the fans.

"But Jude I told you to go interact with them"

"I know but still I should've stayed with you, I mean I was suprises to see you were not mad, especially after what happened at the pond, you had written such a beautiful thing and I just wanted to turn you into a baby making machine, I wasn't thinking about you and what type of effect all that might have on your body , I mean pushing one is already hell like I've heard multiple times but now imagine doing it 12 times

"Honey stop beating yourself up about all of that, you are an amazing husband and I'm sure one day you'll be an amazing father I mean I've seen how you are with kids and the 12 kids thing we've discussed it and we said 4 maximum, so forget about it, ok?"

"Ok"

"Now let's go back to watching this movie"

I unpause the move

And suddenly Jude lifts me up and places me on his lap

"I love so much"

"I love you more"

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gallusrostromegalus · 11 months

Note

AEIWAM : what are the divisions specialities actually ? Like obviously the 4th heal and the 11h fight but like. The 9th? Do crosswords?

BOY AM I GLAD YOU ASKED BECAUSE THIS IS SOME OF THE BEST RETROACTIVE WORLD BUILDING I HAD TO DO AND I'M PROUD OF IT.

So in canon, almost none of the guard squads have "specialist" jobs, mostly because it's not terribly important to the plot, and because the court guards were essentially formed as an ad-hoc mercenary gang to protect one city specifically, but since Yamamoto didn't have to remain loyal to any noble family specifically, he kept getting pulled in as an arbiter and more and more responsibilities heaped upon him until the Court guard squads were acting as a De-Facto government, until the old man got pissed off with being involved in everybody else's business and rounded up a gang of nerds to do that for him so he could go do sword stuff. Seriously, everything about the administrative Bullshit in Soul Society makes sense when viewed through the lens of 'this shit was made ad-hoc out of what was available by people who only kind of knew what they were doing.

So the main government of Soul Society functions approximately like so:

Royal Guard:

Only technically part of the government, the Royal guard consists of The Monk who is responsible for making sure nobody steals any more of the soul king's body parts, and the four people he chose to help/didn't want left unattended in the Spirit World: The Guy who makes Zanpaktou, the Guy who can (theoretically) heal the Soul King, the lady who can literally mess with the fabric of reality and the lady who can create new souls. They spend nearly all their time in the Royal Realm trying to prevent the universe from unrevealing further, and don't really have administrative power so much as if any one of them decided to, they could wreck house of anyone in the spirit world, so if they say something, the central 46 listens and obeys.

Central 46:

The Highest Administrative level, sets society-wide policies, mediates disputes between provinces, wrangles the noble houses, assigns aid and designs social programs. It's comprised of 46 sages and other wise people appointed by the 46 as they die off. IN THEORY "Let a bunch of academics and philosophers who presumably know what they're doing make policy" isn't *that* bad an idea by itself, but it got coupled with "Also, to make sure these guys aren't being bribed or politically pressured, let's keep them in near-total isolation :)" and that's when things got weird.

The Central 46 does try it's best to maintain a peaceful and prosperous society, but it's got to strike a weird balance and the isolation sure does not fucking help maintain a cognizant worldview.

Noble Houses:

So the soul society, by the way they measure time*, only JUST got out of a major warring states period because magical Germany invaded and the guy that lead the army also managed to get The Mandate Of Heaven, but a lot of those formerly-warring states are still around, especially the ones that stole pieces of the soul king. They're not governmental bodies, but the families have shitloads of money, private armed forces and political influence. Think of the worst possible combination of magacorporation, mercenary army and royal dynasty. The are, unfortunately, still a political force to be reckoned with.

*Badly.

Provincial Governors:

So the Soul Society is divided up into Districts like so:

(Embiggen to actually see the damn thing)

The Seireitei is in the center, with the districts counting out until the central 46 got to the outer edge they could theoretically get forces and/or emergency food to in under a month and declared everything after that "District 80" AKA "You're on your own" No taxes are collected in the 80th district and people who don't want to deal with the soul society government often try to strike it on their own out there.

Each of those little rectangles is a district, and each of them has approximately the same number of people living in it- the lower districts are densely populated and, due to their proximity to the Seireitei, well-developed. The districts generally get less developed and less densely populated as you get farter from the center, but this varies wildly by the competence of that district's Daimyo or Governor. West 51 is a much more developed district than it's position would dictate, because it's Daimyo is canny and made good use of it's mineral resources and position in inter-mountain shipping. South 14 Should be one of the nicest districts, but their Governor is a moron who keeps picking fights with the neighboring districts like he's allowed to annex them, and the district has been sanctioned from hell to breakfast over it.

Gotei-13 / Court Guard Squads:

Sort of the executive branch of the Central 46, founded out of Yamamoto's gang of criminals he rounded up to deal with the Quincy invasion back when Rome was collapsing. So the court guard acts out the orders of the Central 46, and *theoretically* has authority over the noble houses and provincial governors, but they are pretty much constantly dancing on the edge of another warring states period, so things can get... tricky.

ALSO DID NOT HELP that The Monk who guards what's left of the Soul King came down from the Royal Realm and foisted a bunch of trans-dimensional responsibilities onto them but the Specific duties of the 13 court guards in AEIWAM are as follows:

(It's worth noting that the order of the court guard squads was determined literally by the order that the 12 criminals signed the agreement with Yamamoto to protect the seireitei, not the order of importance)

Division 1: ADMINISTRATION Oh god there is so much coordination to do between the central 46, the running of internal affairs, recruitment, training new shinigami, coordinating assignments that take more than one division's input. securing and distributing funding, etc. It's main jobs are: assigning work based on policy from the central 46, running the Shinigami Academy, and actually running the Gotei-13.

Division 2: SPY SHIT Gotei-13 is a shady-ass organization with a lot of enemies and that's not about to change. The second division is responsible for keeping an eye on the provinces and noble houses and anything else of interest, "Handling things quietly" for the Gotei-13, and preventing the Central 46 from being corrupted or assassinated. The Shihon Clan has historically held the captainacy of the 2nd division as part of the compromise Yamamoto struck with the noble houses at the founding of the court guard squads to end the civil wars- that each of the 4 noble houses would hold a captain's position, until the noble houses fell apart or the court guard did. This gave the Shihon clan a GREAT incentive to undermine the shit out of other noble houses, and Yamamoto gave them his blessing to do so. Ironically, the Shihon clan was one of the first to collapse.

Division 3: INTERNAL AFFAIRS Law Enforcement, but specifically the Seireitei and shinigami/martial court/jail. The court guard kind of lives and dies by how much it's respected* and it's essential the Gotei-13 follow strict ethical standards and also a tight adherence to authority lest one of the squads break off and start a civil war. Accepting Bribes and Defying Orders are much more severe crimes than say, excessive collateral damage. The 3rd division is responsible for investigating complaints, mediating disputes between divisions, and generally making sure everyone is behaving properly. *By the noble houses, Daimyos and central 46. The average civilian? not so much.

Division 4 Medical This division was actually the FIRST established, even before the court guard really became Squads. It was Chigiri and her pack of field surgeons that commanded Yamamoto's respect and gave him the idea of letting the other criminals have minions too. 4th divison is responsible for maintaining the health of the court guard- not just emergency medicine, but vaccinations, post-service medical care, and civil sanitation- keeping the streets clean and water safe is the #1 way to prevent deaths. Until recently, this meant a lot of trained medics were doing a lot of grunt work, until Zaraki, a guy from districts where Dysentery is still the #1 killer, successful argued a proposal to Unohana that her medics should be managing other, less-in-demand squads doing the labor, which would get the jobs done a hell of a lot faster, and not back up triage as much. Unohana, who had previously not *trusted* other squads to do the work reliably, finally relented and accepted some damn help.

Division 5: Rukongai Affairs The 5th division is responsible for coordinating efforts between the Gotei-13 and the Provincial Governors- Hollow Eradication, Disaster Relief, additional armed forces to help local police, Helping distribute grain to mitigate famine, etc.

Division 6: External Affairs Responsible for representing the Gotei-13 to other groups and dealing with Noble House Bullshit specifically. While Noble House Bullshit is 95% of what they do, but technically, they're also responsible for handling diplomatic relations with the Beastfolk in the eastern districts, Las Noches after the winter war in the west, Any Kami that might come through, and Hell, if they ever get a line open. The Kuchiki family has held the 6th Division captaincy for generations as a peacekeeping measure between the gotei-13 and the noble houses.

Division 7: Incoming Souls The reason the soul society doesn't reunite people with their families when they die is that they do not actually have control over who reincarnates as themselves (and if they retain their memories), who is reborn as a baby in the spirit world, and what district they get assigned to- that's all decided at the moment of a Soul's death by Hell, using a Metric the Shinigami can only guess at. That said, the 7th still can do a lot- Souls that had to be cleansed with Konsho go through the 7th division and are escorted to their assigned districts. Other, non-hollowfied but odd case souls will end up in the pocket dimension that serves as the queue into the afterlife- people with high spiritual power, animals that achieved personhood in the world of the living and other nonhuman persons, and somtimes spirits who were almost certainly supposed to go to a different afterlife all come through. The 7th division is also charged with keeping a running tally on important statistics like the relative balance between souls, who got hollowfied and why, collecting data on who goes to hell when konsho is prefromed on them and why, and other data to try and work out Hell's metric backwards.

Division 8: Income and Funding The court guard squads are... kind of taxpayer funded. The Daimyos collect taxes from civilians, they pay those taxes to the central 46, and the central 46 disburses some of that money to the Gotei-13, but the truth is, for all the duties they're expected to preform, they're wildly underfunded. So the court guard has had to get... inventive to make sure everyone gets paid and they can do what they need to. Investments in industries, ownership of weird land grants, taking out loans, selling merchandise and straight-up schmooze have all been used by the 8th division to make sure the bills get paid. Shunsui is, by that measure, the best captain the division has ever had- he's shrewd and had astonishingly good luck when it comes to finances so there hasn't been a pay strike since he took over. Probably his best idea was handing the branding and product design of the Gikon to the Shinigami Women's Association- that one paid mad dividends.

Division 9: Information Services The ninth division is most famously home to the Seireitei's first and most largely-ciculated newspaper, but it's also the records office, PAYROLL, library, document archives, data collection and data analytics. Also, tech support. Also also: manage all the arts programs, propaganda and festivals. This is why Kaname was load-bearing to Aizen's plan.

Division 10: Living World Affairs The 10th division was responsible for monitoring the living world- mostly keeping track of hollow appearances, but also: what the remaining Quincies are up to, reporting back on useful technological advancements, any other weird shit that turns up there, and keeping track of all the Shinigami on deployment to the living world (mostly 10th division but the post-war population boom means every division's having to chip in now.

Division 11: Emergency/Heavy Deployment Every time the Gotei-13 had to do some heavy lifting, it's the 11th division's job. Mass outbreak of hollows? 11th's job. Emergency Dam repair to prevent a flood? 11th division muscle time. Daimyo got funny ideas about conquering a neighboring district? 11th division. Funcking Quincies again? 11th division. Rampaging Kami afflicted by a terrible curse? you know who to call. This was the SECOND Division to be founded, because the actual sentence that came out of Yamamoto's mouth was "Chigiri, you and your gremlins put my guts back in, Yachiru, round up some assholes and DEAL WITH THAT FUCKING THING." and the 11th's prerogative and hiring practices have not changed since. Since the 11th's work is more intermittent, there are long periods between jobs for them, and it's only recently they've been allowed to pitch in on regular maintenance and rehabilitate their reputation as a bunch of lazy degenerates.

Divison 12: Supplies (more recently, Research and Development) Prior to Kisuke Urahara's weird science boner, the 12th Division's primary job was the manufacture and supply of everything the Shinigami would need to do their jobs. Uniforms, Gigai, medical supplies, communicators, rations, Gikon, the actual buildings in the Seireitei, bedding, Protective gear- if a Shinigami received it for their job, it was made by the 12th division. Despite previous captain Kirio Hikifune being the most accomplished chef in the history of Soul Society, it's Mayuri that has made the most profound mark on Soul Society Cuisine with the fast-prepared, acceptable-tasting and surprisingly nutritious meals he developed to deal with the mass influx of souls after WW2, and the franchise distribution centers combined with his attempts at children's educational programming mean that Mayuri occupies a cultural niche in Soul Society not unlike Krusty The Clown.

Division 13: Magical Research, Kido Corps Until recently, the Kido Corps was a seperate division governed under the purview of the central 46, and the 13th division was doing it's research into Hado, Bakudo and Haikido independently, but as the two organizations worked increasingly closely together, they began to share more until the catastrophic events of Turn Back The Pendulum left the Kido Corps severely depleted and without leadership, at which point Yamamoto persuaded the central 46 to let the 13th division absorb the rest of the Kido corps and take on their work.

So that's how the government in Soul Society is SUPPOSESD to work.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach fanfiction #bleach #gotei-13 #long post

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mcflymemes · 7 months

Text

PROMPTS FROM HALLOWEENTOWN 🎃 * assorted dialogue from the 1998 film, adjust as necessary

hey, wait a minute! what about this house?

you know nobody ever comes here on halloween.

it's just a costume party.

there's nothing special about me.

being normal is vastly overrated.

you've gotta let me go! the whole world is going!

i'm certainly old enough to make my own choices.

[name], i'm sorry, but you are not going out on halloween.

you have been saying that for my whole life.

i gotta keep an eye on you.

why are you such a downer?

you can celebrate later.

when it's dark on halloween, where do you put the candle?

i wasn't even under a spell or anything.

i never could have done it without you.

it's just one night. what's the big deal?

you've been a lovely audience but the show is over.

we'll bring you some candy!

it's not polite to stare.

you can't tell what's in a monster's heart just by looking at them.

i'm so sick of this!

i think it's obvious why halloween is bad.

that whole razor blade in the apple thing was an urban myth.

there are just some things about halloween that you don't understand.

magic is really very simple. all you've got to do is want something and then let yourself have it.

how are we supposed to grow up if we can't explore the world, try new stuff, and take some risks?

[name], i am just trying to protect you.

why are you so obsessed with halloween?

personally, give me a good nature documentary any day.

you never let us do anything fun.

i'm something of a big cheese around here.

did you bring us presents?

the important thing is that i'm here now, and i'm so glad to see you.

you are not a witch.

i want you to go hang this on the door. it annoys the vampires.

how does all this stuff fit in here?

i've always said the movies can teach us about life.

why don't you put out the pumpkins? see, they have such cute little faces. just like yours.

i wanna help you fight the bad thing.

nobody around here really appreciates my taste in weird stuff.

i have deja vu a lot. i mean like, all the time.

could i talk to you in the kitchen for just one minute?

now it's time for dinner.

i like being here. i can have a normal life here.

i like being normal.

i'm getting that deja vu feeling again.

get that thing out of here right now!

i know that's why you came here tonight.

my neighbors disappear sometimes too. it's called moving.

every time you come into the house, it's chaos.

let's not fight again.

why don't you recruit one of them?

enjoy your leftovers, dear.

he's probably animatronic. disneyland's full of stuff like that.

see, you're a bad influence.

will you be quiet?

look, i'm trying to concentrate here.

what can we do to stop it?

that's very sweet of you.

what are you so happy about?

this is what i've been telling you about.

i have to apologize to you, [name].

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

Skin Deep IV

Summary: Our favorite psychopaths are back with a plan to get the Sheriff off their tails

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, GF!Reader, GF!Tara, violence, smut.

A/N: I forgot how fun it is to write unhinged Tara. Enjoy you gremlins! Also, sorry if my proof reading sucks on this one, I have a date to get ready for tonight!

Part I Part II Part III Part V

Tara is in handcuffs. She’s snarling at the officer with his hands on her shoulders, spitting mad, and struggling with the intensity of a 200 pound linebacker. You can’t move. Your feet are too heavy, your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth, and your arms are locked at your side.

Your heart begins to race. Your robe rustles in the wind, the mask over your face makes it hard to breathe. You squeeze the handle of the knife in your hand. They can’t see you. You’re standing in the middle of the road. You feel the ground beneath you cracking, opening up around you. You lock eyes with Tara. She can see you.

You shoot up in your bed, gasping for air, soaked in sweat. The sheets and your pillow are cold, damp. Your heart pounds in your chest as your shaking hands run over your face. This is the third night in a row you’ve had this dream.

You take a deep, unsteady breath and roll out of bed. You peel off your wet clothes and pull on a fresh tank top, and sweats. Your hands are beginning to slow their trembling as you tie your shoelaces. The clock on your nightstand reads 1:37 AM.

The house is so quiet it makes your ears ring, making tiptoeing through the hall and down the stairs monumentally difficult. When you slip out the front door, the night air is cool, damp from a rainstorm in the early hours. Your car rumbles to a start, and you freeze, eyeing the second-floor window where your parents are sleeping. The light doesn’t come on, so you put it in drive and let it roll down the driveway, waiting to hit the gas until you’ve slowly rolled down the street.

Tara’s bedroom light is on when you park on the street in front of her house. You sit in the car for a minute, wondering if she’s awake or if she fell asleep with the light on. Her driveway is empty, so you know she’s home alone. You climb out of the car and crane your neck up to look in her window again, and you can see her shadow cross behind the curtains. What she’s doing up is a mystery to you, but you’re glad she is. You want to seek comfort in her. She’s always so sure about everything, so confident in her decisions. It’s just the kind of influence you need after three straight nights of nightmares.

Her front door is unlocked. You let yourself in and turn the lock behind you. She may not worry about someone stumbling in, but you are constantly vigilant. You step out of your shoes and creep up the stairs, avoiding the one you know creaks. The carpet makes it easier than your house to sneak down the hall and peek into her cracked door.

Quiet music is playing from a record player in the corner. Tara is cross-legged on the bed, bobbing her head, a sketchbook in her lap, and a pile of colored pencils splayed out around her. Seeing her like this makes you feel better already. Right now, she’s not a serial killer, a psychopath, or a monster. She’s just Tara Carpenter.

You take stock of how the thought makes you feel. It’s like champagne in your veins, warm and cool at the same time, fizzing in your belly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you might actually be in love with her.

The idea makes the champagne feeling explode, and you’re not sure you like it.

You push the door open and step into the room, waiting for her to jump or bare her teeth in surprise. Instead, she smiles down at her book, not looking up at you, and continues her drawing.

“Hello, y/n.”

You falter, frowning in defeat, “You heard me coming?”

She shrugs and finally looks up at you, pieces of her hair falling into her face.

“Bad dreams?”

“How did you-“

“I’ve been having them too. Well, I assume they’re similar dreams,” she pauses to scratch the tip of her nose with the back of the colored pencil, “come sit and tell me your woes.”

You trudge over and flop on your back next to her, sending the pencils bouncing around the blankets. She swats your leg with the one in her hand, the wood cracking across your thigh with a sting that makes you hiss.

“What’s that for?!” You whine, sitting up to rub your leg.

“If you lose one of my pencils, I will stab you with one,” she tells you, pointing the red pencil between your eyes.

You open your mouth to argue, but she narrows her eyes, and you think better of it, snapping your jaw shut. She smiles, nods once, and turns back to her book. You sigh, gather the pencils around you, and delicately set them between your knees before laying back on her pillow.

“I keep dreaming about you getting arrested.”

She tilts her head, turning one ear toward you. It’s her way of telling you she’s listening without actually facing you.

“I’m always standing in the street, watching it happen, and I can’t do anything about it. It’s like I’m a ghost that only you can see.”

She places her pencil in the spine of her notebook and closes it, setting it aside to turn toward you. Her hand rests over the exact spot she’d hit you, the warmth radiating from her seeping through your sweats.

“Hm. Do you feel relieved? In your dream?” She asks, her eyes soft.

You shake your head no, “I feel angry. Helpless.”

Her lips quirk up at the sides, she seems pleased with your answer. Her hand runs up your leg a few inches.

“I keep seeing us walk out my front door. There are spotlights on us and news crews. Everyone is screaming and wants our autographs. It’s disgusting.” Her face contorts, emphasizing the distaste she has for the idea.

You snort, the image so clear in your head it’s comical. It makes her smile down at you. She scoots up the bed and lays her head on your shoulder, her hand resting on your stomach.

“I would rather die than be in handcuffs, y/n. In fact, if we ever do get caught, I will make sure they kill me.”

“What about me?”

“They’ll kill you too. Or I will.”

You hum in thought, your fingers trailing down her arm. It’s not a terrible idea. A cyanide pill between the teeth of your lover. You find it all very romantic.

“You couldn’t kill me,” you murmur into her hair.

She stiffens, then rolls on top of you with another pencil in her hand. She sits up on your hips, leaving the sharpened edge pressing into the hollow of your throat. You grin like the Cheshire Cat, and she frowns down at you.

“Why are you smiling like that? You look like an idiot.”

“Well, I’ve got you where I want you don’t I?” You say, glancing down at her hips, your hands over her thighs.

Her glare pulls into an unwilling smile. She tries to fight it, but you can see every detail on her face; you have her memorized by now. She makes a show of grinding into you, gasping lightly, and dropping down to leave a soft kiss on your lips.

You’re sure you’re getting lucky until she rolls off of you and begins collecting her pencils. You jut your bottom lip out in a pout and sit up on your elbows, watching her gather her art supplies and leave them on her desk. She glances over and waves you off, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“Don’t pout, I’m on my period.”

“So?”

She purses her lips and levels you with an impatient glare, “So, I’m tired and don’t feel like cleaning up a mess. Take your pants off, though, I hate it when you sleep in sweats.”

You huff but do as you’re told, stripping down to your boxers and pulling back her sheets. You’re already over it by the time she crawls into bed next to you, tucking herself into your chest. She falls asleep almost instantly, and before you realize it, your breathing evens out, and for a few blessed hours, your sleep is dreamless.

——

You wake to an empty bed. The pale pink pillow beside you is cold, the sheets pulled back. You roll onto your back, listening for signs of life.

A quiet, distant shuffling catches your attention and the smell of coffee. You close your eyes and stretch with a smile. She’s making you breakfast.

You forgo your sweats and pad down the hall in your underwear, eager to gulp down a mug of coffee and convince Tara to shower with you after. You freeze in your tracks at the top of the stairs when the doorbell rings. Curious, you wait, ears pricked as Tara answers the door.

When it opens, you hear the chatter of a radio, and you can feel the tension in Tara’s voice when she says, “Good morning, Sheriff. What brings you by?”

You can hear the smile plastered to her lips, can practically see her bubbly persona washing over the Sheriff. You decide to linger out of sight until you know why she’s there.

“Tara,” Sheriff Hicks replies, her voice is thick with grief. It has been since Wes was murdered. Since you killed him. “Are you home alone?”

“My girlfriend is upstairs,” Tara chirps, loud enough for you to hear clearly.

“Ah, that’s actually who I want to talk to you about. Do you have a moment?”

“Oh, actually Sheriff, I-“

You choose this moment to noisily make your way downstairs, stretching and yawning, interrupting their conversation. You scratch your head as you reach the landing and shoot the Sheriff a lopsided smile.

“Morning Sheriff,” you wrap your arms around Tara’s waist and rest your chin on the top of her head, “you want some coffee?”

She watches you wrap yourself around Tara with visible disdain. Though you’d never actually been in trouble with the law, there was an unspoken agreement you would be eventually. She and the previous Sheriff had always made it clear they were wary of you. It had never been a problem before, but now, with your guilt and your nightmares, seeing her at Tara’s doorstep fills you with dread.

She shakes her head and steps back out the door, pulling her notepad from her hip pocket.

“No coffee, thank you. But if you don’t mind, where were you the night Mikayla was killed?”

You frown, release Tara and step in front of her, “Ma’am, I already spoke to your deputies about this.”

She squints, nods, “I just want to double-check.”

You can feel Tara’s fingers on your wrist, lightly brushing your skin. She wants you to stay cool, not lose your temper. It works, to your shock.

“I was at a party. My friends can confirm that. Then I went home, where my parents saw me.”

Sheriff Hicks clicks her pen and nods slowly, eyeing her notes, “It’s difficult to corroborate your alibi, seeing as one of your friends was also killed.”

You clench your jaw, your irritation rising, “Don’t bother with tact, Sheriff. I just lost a close friend. No big deal.”

Tara slips herself under your arm, wraps her arm around your waist. Reminding you to breathe.

The way the Sheriff is staring at you feels like a Western standoff. She wants to pin you for this; it’s apparent. She gulps, blinks away tears that spring up in her eyes.

“I lost my son. So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little overzealous in finding the person responsible.”

Tara reaches her hand out to rest lightly on the Sheriff’s forearm, her eyes brimming with tears, “He was my friend, Judy. I want justice for him too.”

Sheriff Hicks swallows hard and softens. She sighs, drops her notepad back into her pocket with the pen. She squeezes the bridge of her nose and nods again.

“Thank you for your time. Please don’t hesitate to contact me with any information, okay?”

You both nod solemnly and watch her walk back to her patrol car. The simmering in your veins makes it hard to stay still, even with Tara under your arm.

She closes the door and pulls you into the kitchen, where you slump onto a stool at the island. A cup of coffee is slid under your nose, and a kiss is pressed to your cheek, and you feel lighter.

“We have to kill her,” you growl over your coffee mug, but it comes out like more of a whine.

Tara leans on the island and smirks, “We will, baby, just not yet.”

“Who’s next?”

“I believe it’s your turn to choose.”

“Chad.”

“No.”

You scoff, lean back on the stool, “You said it’s my turn!”

The smile she gives you feels like one reserved for a child, “First, no. Because he would break your neck. And two, I actually enjoy his company.”

You grit your teeth, “That’s why I want to kill him.”

She chuckles and leaves the island to finish cooking breakfast. Your eyes track her every move, the sway of her hips, how she stands on her tiptoes at the stove, the delicate flick of her wrist when she flips a pancake.

“If you killed everyone who flirted with me, you’d have an impossibly long list.” She says over her shoulder.

You shrug, pouting into your coffee mug, and mumble, “Sounds like a win in my book.”

“No, we need someone unrelated. Lead the Sheriff off our trail,” she turns and points at you with the spatula, “Actually, we should find someone to pin this all on. Send the police sniffing after them instead.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, your bad mood dissipating as quickly as it formed, “You’re diabolical, Tara Carpenter.”

She grins, “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

——

Tara is right; you hate her plan. For some reason, giving credit for your hard work to some stranger irritates you to no end. Obviously, you don’t want to rot in prison or see Tara die to avoid it. But finding some loser on Reddit to pass the blame (credit) over to feels like letting the lazy football star cheat off your test while you fail.

“This dude is a fucking dweeb Tara. He’s all talk.”

You’re standing behind her at the computer, looking at a photo of Tara’s sister and her boyfriend. She pulls up his Reddit profile and scrolls through his posts on the Stab thread.

“He doesn’t need to be a killer baby. He just needs to sound like one. And this guy is unhinged.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He’s perfect.”

——

Holding the Bowie knife without the Ghostface robe and mask feels foreign. It feels heavier, more consequential. Knowing you’re going to sink the blade into your girlfriend makes it feel like a double-edged sword in your hands.

Tara’s bedroom feels too small, the air too thick. You drop the knife on her bed and shake your head.

“What if we just say they broke in and we got away? I don’t get why we have to do this,” you groan and sit on the edge of the bed.

Tara’s nostrils flare in irritation, the glint in her eye telling you she’s losing patience with you.

“I told you already, no one would believe we didn’t even get a scratch if Ghostface attacked us.”

She pushes your knees apart and rests her hands on your shoulders, her eyes steely and cold. Seeing her in this state, the cool calculated certainty on her face makes your stomach flip. It always reminds you of the night at Mikayla’s, dangerous and erotic.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you grumble, not meeting her eyes.

She wraps her fingers around your throat and squeezes, dipping her head down, “I can make you want to hurt me.”

You look up at her in defiance, your jaw clenched. She’s right, in a way. But stabbing her is not the kind of hurt you want to inflict on her. Her grip around your throat tightens, making your breath whistle through your nose. She smirks, and you decide stabbing her can wait.

You stand and scoop her up, her legs wrapping around your waist and her hands leaving your throat to loop around the back of your neck. You’re playing into her hand, you’re aware of it, but you don’t care. Plus, you have a surprise for her today.

You drop her on her bed and are satisfied at her surprise. She frowns up at you as you leave her, heading for the backpack you left in the kitchen. She follows you wordlessly, curious about your intent. You glance back and note the knife hanging loosely in her fingers. She leaves it on the counter when you unzip your bag and stands on her toes, trying to see what you’re doing.

You don’t miss the excitement that flashes through her when you pull the harness out, the dildo already strapped to it. You let it hang off your finger, dangle it in front of her.

Her eyebrow raises, a dangerous smirk on her lips, “And just what do you think you’re going to do with that?”

You tilt your head, “Don’t you want to find out?”

Her eyes grow dark, and she steps toward you. She takes the strap from you and sets it next to the knife, pulls you into her roughly. You smile down at her, appreciating the way her lips part as her tongue wets them. She pulls you down and kisses you, frantic and excited, her teeth nipping at your lip, her tongue quickly chasing them. From an outside perspective, it probably looks more like a fight than what it actually is.

Your clothes are gone in a hurry, dishes left on the counter clattering to the floor in your haste. When she shoves you shirtless into the living room, you knock over a lamp, and she drags you down onto the rug, the strap-on tossed at your side. Your pants and underwear are ripped from your legs, hers following after. Furniture and decor have become casualties in the midst of the power struggle, which suits your case. By the time you’re done here, it really will appear as if someone broke in. Especially if Tara keeps it up.

She thinks she’s in control when the harness is around your waist. You cinch it tight and allow her to take the lead.

“I want you right now. Hurry up,” she growls, her eyes wild.

You slow your fingers, hold her gaze. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breathing erratic. When she tries to pull you in, you shake your head no, and hold out an arm to stop her. She seethes, her impatience rolling off her like heat waves.

“On your knees,” you tell her, your voice level and calm.

An internal struggle begins, her eyes searching your face for an answer to a question she’s unsure of. Does she trust you enough?

You wait, unmoving, until she complies. When she does, the pure satisfaction that envelops you is inebriating. You pull her back into your hips, and she gasps as the dildo presses into her leg.

“How are you going to explain rug burn, y/n,” she says, watching you over her shoulder, “Did I grovel and beg Ghostface not to kill me?”

You can’t help the fury that washes over you at the thought of her on her knees for someone else. You push the tip inside her, reveling in her barely contained groan. Slowly, you sink all the way into her, reach for her throat, and pull her up into your chest. You bite her shoulder, squeezing her throat.

“I’ll tell the Sheriff I fucked you on your knees, and that you begged me not to stop.”

With that, you release her throat and push her down to her elbows, your hands sliding down her back until they reach her hips and grip hard enough to leave bruises. You pull back and push into her, the uninhibited moans that leave her throat sending a chill down your spine. Every thrust of your hips sends her rocking forward, her elbows and knees reddening as the carpet rubs her skin raw.

She pushes up onto her hands after a few minutes, and you lean over to kiss the skin between her shoulder blades. You only half feel bad for the rug burn; the other half of you eats it up. The wet sound of skin on skin fills the room, mingling with her voice as she cries out your name. It’s gratifying, having her like this. Out of control and whining, pushing back into you, her hands shifting across the carpet. You don’t stop until she’s trembling, her arms shaking under her weight. You slow your hips, gently coax her down and pull out of her.

She shivers and tucks her leg to roll onto her back, pulling you down to meet her. Her hand slides between your bodies and lines the dildo back up, slipping it in as you drop your weight down on her. You kiss her slowly, building your rhythm back up slowly.

Her hands pull you down by your hips, and you smile into her mouth. She turns her head, encouraging you to dive into her neck, and you oblige her.

“You know how I feel about teasing,” she sighs, her lips brushing your ear.

The idea to string her along is there, but you know deep down hearing her cum is better than teasing her.

“You’re a brat,” you whisper in her ear and push yourself onto your hands to give yourself room to pick up your pace.

She grins at you, even has the gall to wink, “Fuck it out of me then.”

And you do. You fully realize it defeats the purpose of you give her what she wants, but who wouldn’t? You can’t deny her, and she knows it. So you fuck her until her body tremors, her eyes roll back, and her nails rake down your back. You kiss her chin when you pull out of her and admire the shiver that starts in her shoulders and ends in her toes. Sitting back between her legs, you unbuckle the harness and slide it off, tossing it to the side.

She sits up and crawls into your lap, straddling your thighs.

“Are you ready for the fun part?”

“Don’t pull a Billy and actually kill me,” you say, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She shakes her head, her eyes softening, “You were right. I couldn’t kill you.”

——

The police show up twenty minutes after Tara calls them, screaming and crying. Her sweater is coated in blood, most of it her own, some of it yours. Getting stabbed fucking sucked. Bleeding out wasn’t as bad.

You slip in and out of consciousness when the paramedics arrive, fussing over the wounds on your side. Tara refuses to leave you, leaning over you as they try to patch both of you up. You hear snippets of the frantic conversation with the Sheriff, who had done this, how big were they, what did they smell like. Tara asks her to call Sam and tell her to return to Woodsboro. The plan the two of you have orchestrated working out perfectly.

When you’re loaded into the back of the ambulance, Tara is at your side.

“Your parents are going to meet us at the hospital. You’re okay, we’re okay.”

Once again, you marvel at how amazing of an actress she is. You think maybe it’s her calling. You try to tell her, but your eyes are rolling shut, and the drugs they’re pumping into your veins are dragging you under. The last thing you see is her wicked smile and a wink as her lips press into your forehead.

#skin deep #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader

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gffa · 8 months

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honestly the idea of the Force not just making Anakin in retaliation to Sheev but also continuing to look out for him AGAINST Sheev for the whole series is a REALLY FUNNY AU concept and I am SO glad I learned about this book today so I can think of the Force going "Swiper no swiping!" to Sheev for several decades.

Just the THOUGHT of the Force trying SO HARD to keep its wayward son in line and being utterly exasperated at how Anakin keeps going back to Sheev is cracking me up. The Force sets up an ENTIRE IMPOSSIBLE TRIP TO A FORCE PLANET (Mortis) AND HAS HIM MEET BASICALLY FORCE LORDS to try to make him confront his guilt and fear, it drags them all to a place where even Qui-Gon is there (who Anakin often idealizes!!! so he should listen to him, right!?!?) and says, "Please, by the fucking stars, you need to do some self-reflection, kid." And Anakin's still like MMMMMM NO.

"Please, kiddo, he's bad for you, don't listen to Palpatine, I'm just trying to look out for you." Anakin:

"I'm telling Sheev you said he was a bad influence!" No wonder the Force was so darkened the Jedi couldn't see shit during the Clone Wars, it was dealing with the galaxy's worst ever teenage child in the middle of his rebellious "YOU CAN'T STOP ME FROM SEEING HIM, DAD!" phase ever.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #sheev palapatine #i make myself laugh and that's all that's important #a quality addition!

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bonefall · 1 month

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My birthday was a couple days ago, and I got to see my bio dad for the first time in a while. He surprised me with the fact that I have a little half-sister, whom I've never met and who was adopted about two years back. So, I wondered if any situations in BB mimic this or have a theme of "secret siblings" or "secret family"? Sorry if this is a weird ask; this blog is honestly just such a cool little place and I love the way you approach the subject matter and take the flawed misogynistic foundation of the WC books and make them so much better (JUSTICE FOR BUMBLE!!!). I've also learned a lot about healthy and unhealthy relationships here and am really glad for your deep dives on Squilf and Bramble. Thanks, Bones!

Not weird at all! I really like exploring all the little nooks and crannies of complicated familial dynamics. I think one of the untapped strengths of WC (that the writers seem to be unaware of) is how their MASSIVE cast allows them to present all sorts of unique dynamics. So I like to pick up on it, since they don't.

For secret siblings...

I'm pretty heavily leaning towards Ambermoon being adopted by Wildfur, as a surrogacy. Something feels correct about it. Especially since Icecloud is getting retooled into a post-Battle of the True Eclipse birth, and a major supporting character in AVoS-era stories as a friend of Alderheart.

Thinking about it, I should zoom in and expand this. Maybe have Icecloud, somehow, acquire forbidden knowledge that would invalidate the Queen’s Rights and he (transman) struggles with if he's going to use it to expose his parents as an excuse to help Ambermoon.

(Especially since Ambermoon and Icecloud are basically nothing alike. Amber is independent, bold, and vain. Ice is jessie pinkman big-hearted, disorganized, and deceptively meek if you look past his "chill" demeanor)

But that's wip-- there's also Breezepelt and the Three, who are going to have an actual friendship. In particular I can't unsee Breeze and Lion having a deep one. I know I commit the Cardinal Sin of borderline himbo-ifying Lionblaze in BB, but I can't help it.

Hollyleaf ended up nabbing a bunch of his most violent roles to make her villainous descent smoother narratively, so BB!Lionblaze's story ends up being more focused on Ashfur's abuse, comic relief with cats in other Clans (something that the very serious Jay and Holly have a hard time providing), and the emotional fallout of the big reveal and Bramblestar's turn on them. Breezepelt slots neatly into that.

They were friends. Lionblaze's whole life came down around the reveal, everyone looking at him and his siblings differently, like they're suddenly something terrible. Why can't we find a silver lining, Breezepelt? Why can't we call ourselves brothers if the whole world is going to do it anyway? So much is changing, but THIS doesn't have to, we will take their weapon and turn it to armor, my ally, my friend, my brother.

(and when Breezepelt is lashing out at the three because of the Dark Forest's influence, Lionblaze is there, taking the blows and trying not to give in to the impulse to send him flying with a single paw)

There's also Harespring and Kestrelflight of WindClan and Owlclaw of ShadowClan. All of them are from a single litter between Whitewater and Mudclaw. She was going to raise the three of them alone as ShadowClan cats, but when the sire was smote, Whitewater felt they were cursed.

She was able to give the oldest two to their bio-uncle, Torear, but the weather was so bad that day and the runt was so sickly and small that it surely would have killed him. I don't think Owlclaw ever finds out why his mother always treated him with suspicion, but it did mess him up horribly.

Over in BB!DOTC, Thunder Storm is getting more half-siblings earlier. Clear Sky and Falling Feather had two daughters-- Pale Sky and Tiger Sky.

I want to explore the way that the various stages of Clear Sky's life acted on his kids. How any little curiosity Thunder Storm had about the life he might have had if he wasn't abandoned is crushed by seeing kittens who weren't. How Clear's favoritism of his oldest child set the trio against each other from the start. How this idea of "love" is toxic yet intoxicating.

It feels good to be the golden child. The power it gives you over his sycophants is satisfying. To know you, and you alone, have what someone else craves. Problem is, that's conditional, and it's cruel.

What Thunder Storm learns from his time with his biodad is that Clear Sky is not his father at all. He's taught him exactly what he DOESN'T want to be. There may be similarities-- in temperament, in physical prowess (though BB!Thunder is three-legged, he's still ripped), in taste and senses. But Thunder Storm's father is Shaded Flower.

(BB!Gray Wing died in the first book, rescuing Shaded Flower from being trampled by a horse. Xey're a patron of wisdom, Shaded Moss is taking the role of fatherhood to Thunder)

His sister is Rainswept Flower. His mom is Bright Storm. If there was a bond he could have had with Tiger Sky and Pale Sky, it dies simply and cruelly on the knife they used to cut each other out.

Pale might have wanted to mend it, she was the gentler one. But she dies in the First Battle along with her mother. Tiger Sky is too stubborn to accept any help, should Thunderstar offer it, and Thunderstar isn't in the business of begging for others to like him.

Naturally I'm lowkey obsessed with them lmao. I need to make a BB!DOTC overviewww

#I have a perspective on half siblings colored by a dynamic in my family #The generation above me has two siblings who had an awful biodad and an amazing stepdad (who did officially adopt them)#And there was nothing ''natural'' or good about how one of them was obsessed with their biodad.#It was influenced by his surroundings and did nothing but drag an incredibly toxic man back into his sister's life #Over and over #But anyway the son used to tell me ''theres no half in siblings''#The daughter adored her halfbrother through the mother who raised them-- but was adamant that her biodad's newer kids were nothing to her #I guess I agree with the son. But not in the way he believes it #There's no half in siblings because you either Are. Or you are Not.#You have a shared experience with having that person as a parent or you don't. And that's what's unchanging.#It's not the blood; it's the sweat and tears. But anyhoo #Personal details of my life aside #Tiger Sky and Pale Sky are Clear's Dead Angel Fetus Children in-canon. I think that was Weird.#So instead I made them. Not. Dead angel fetus children....#They're characters now lmaoo #Better bones au #I think Tiger Sky (i call her Tigs in my head a lot) is one of my favorite kit saves ever though #She's not going to be from the last litter either. I haven't picked who the mom is yet but he does have even more #At least one of those is going to make a grab at power but um. Sparrow Heart will not react Well.#BASICALLY lads I'm cooking. My revamps of the DOTC characters basically write themselves because I am very fond of them.#Clear's youngest: ''OH I JUST CANT WAIT TO BE KI-"#Sparrowstar: ''-lled.''

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rhodesrider · 4 months

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Special Princess

Mafia!Roman R. x Little!Black!Fem! Reader

Warning: mentions of violence, mentions of weapons, age regression, affirmations, praise

Minors! DNI! 18+

In the car, Y/N was criss cross on the seat watching different gameplays on her iPad while teething on her toy silent in the back, Roman was humming the bluey theme song while driving which gave some looks from solo and jimmy. Worried about him keeping his reputation up for a while now they wondered that if it’s mostly Y/Ns fault. I mean Roman is suppose to be this big bad mob boss, controlling the territory and keeping things under control with an iron fist. Instead, he balances work with his girlfriend who acts like a child. She doesn’t dress like the other women Roman has messed with, when they would wear night dresses and show as much skin as they want, Y/N just wears hoodies or overalls. Long sleeve shirts or short sleeve but overalls and sneakers not heels. It worried them that Y/N was probably a bad influence on Roman their boss.

“Hey Ro, when we get back to the house can we talk in private?” Solo asked as he was in the back with jimmy nodding at him planning the convo in their head. “Hm? Sure man. Oh do me a favor and tap Y/N when I pull over?” He nodded and looked at her examining her again. A child. A child in a grown woman’s body. He never understood it and nether has jimmy. But they don’t question it because it’s their bosses girl. After they pulled over to the stop they were doing the drop off, solo did as told getting Y/Ns attention making her jump some looking around. She took off her headphones taking in her surroundings looking directly at Roman as he opened the door. “Sweetie I’ll be back with the boys ok?” He asked in a calm sweet tone as solo and jimmy got out, “Stay here with mr.heymen.” He ordered and she nodded getting a kiss on her forehead. She waved at Paul sweetly and he waved back watching them go in the building. She started looking around every inch of the buildings and corners of the area and went back on her tablet drawing a picture for Roman. Sending it straight to him.

“Hey boss man you know we never question you…” Jimmy started getting a bit impatient needing to know why this girl is with them. “Sounds like you are about to question me thou.” He looked at jimmy slightly. Jimmy just shut it down and looked around the warehouse building. “Why they wanted to meet us here?” “I am not sure but keep ya eyes peeled.” They nodded. Roman looked at him phone seeing the photo Y/N drew and texted her “Thank you princess.” Soon hearing the other doors open the meeting is starting. Showing to the meeting was mister Ziggler and his bodyguards, simple transaction. Roman smirked seeing the briefcases behind him as well. “Mister Reigns, how are we today?” Dolph asked. “Good, I’m glad we were able to get some more supply. Especially from a trusted source.” Roman smiled. “Likewise, so ready for the wire transfer?” Dolph asked quick being money hungry but Roman looked at him not born yesterday. “Go on and put some product on the table, solo examine it.” Dolph smirked. “You don’t trust me big man-“ “I don’t bring snipers to my transfers. Especially ones that are ready at the mark.” He smiled as Dolph was starting to turn pale. Jimmy and Solo were confused, they couldn’t see out the window but were looking around outside not seeing a set up anywhere. “You got paranoid last time we met Roman-“ “Not the slightest.” He smirked. “Now let’s check that material.”

After the transaction, they walked out the building untouched. Jimmy and solo still had the guns out. “Put them away, she doesn’t like seeing that mess sometimes.” He warned them and they nodded following orders. They filled the back with the briefcases and Roman checked on Y/N seeing her in the same spot watching bluey sucking on her thumb some. “Hey we talked about that pretty girl, where is it?” She shrugged her shoulders. Roman went in her bag and pulled out a box with a fresh pacifier. He slowly removed her thumb making her pout but gave her the paci as she was calm again. “That’s my girl.” She giggled from the kisses he gave all over her face and went to the front to drive. The boys got back in looking at Y/N again getting a weird feeling now but let it go till they got to the house.

Later that night, the boys sat in the office to finally talk to Roman about this. “So y’all wanted to talk?” They look to the side seeing Y/N in a giant pink play tent in her own little world watching tv and coloring. “Well it’s about…um…it’s about her.” Jimmy said finally pointing at the tent. Roman looked to the side where the tent was then at the boys, “About her? How do? Also she had a name. Don’t be afraid to say it.” Roman said looking through his phone some. “Look we know Y/N is yo girl and we respect her but-“ “But?” Roman asked surprised that solo was questioning him as well. “-why doesn’t she act normal?” By the time this was asked, Y/Ns headphones were off and she listened in. A bit hurt by their questions making her think she did something wrong. “Well y’all she’s been through a lot, she does this to cope, this is her therapy. I will admit that I was a bit worried about it as well, but I support her no matter what.” Jimmy nodded his head in understanding. Solo was still a bit worried. “What about your image sir?” “My image is fine. She doesn’t affect my imagine.” Roman said paying full attention now. “For all know she’s more help then you both ever was.” He was starting to get mad with all the questions. Y/N didn’t like the look on their faces, so she sighed getting out the tent and going over. “Baby we talking go back to your tent.” Roman asked low but still a bit pissed which scared her some but stood her ground. “I’m sorry that I’m hurt your image, I can just stop if you want. To help a bit better…” Roman’s look softened and he sighed, “Baby you’re always big help.” Jimmy and solo looked at each other, how and she’s always in the car? “Remember that nice picture you gave me?” She nodded and went to get her book she drew in showing the picture. Solo looked at it and recognized it some. “Those buildings…” “Yea there were people looking at birds up top so I drew them too!” She giggled. It hit Jimmy and solo so fast looking at the photo again seeing the truck parked and the other building they were in to do the transaction.

“That’s how you knew.” They both said in unison.

Roman knew about the snipers because of the drawing she drew, matter of fact she always draws something and shows Roman when he’s in meetings and other functions. She’s technically doing a perimeter check. “Yep my little artist helps me like that.” “And other ways…” she mumbled. “Oh right, we didn’t see anyone when we were escorting you out back to the car-“ Jimmy stopped and looked at Y/N who was smirking some evilly. “Ain’t no way.” “I was trying to find a bathroom.” She smiled. What really happened was she went in the building and handled the snipers so they wouldn’t be ready to shoot. Solo remembered Dolph trying to contact the snipers but no answer came their way of course. “So you just lil miss killer?” “You worry about yourself next time please.” She hissed. Her eyes from a lightly playful brown to a dark evil black made it clear that what her lifestyle was is her choice. Roman choose right, he smirked and was honestly proud. But what he noticed was she was out of her headspace. “Go take it up to the bedroom princess, we can watch a movie tonight if you want.” She nodded trying to calm from her sudden anger and walked away going to the master bedroom. “Wow…” Jimmy said never seeing that outta her. “Did you know Paul?!” They turned to him while he was in the corner the whole time. “I had no idea.” He smiled and went back on his phone. The brothers looked a bit dumbfounded and Roman just sighed. “I appreciate yall worrying about me and my image because my image is y’all image, but I assure you as yall saw. We will be fine.” They both nodded and left the room leaving Roman in a smirk. “I know what I’m doing.”

Roman got into the bedroom seeing that the anger got Y/N tuckered out. She was sleep hugging a pillow and the tv was on My little pony. Roman got ready for bed and as soon as Y/N could smell his body spray she cuddled up on him smiling. He smiled as well and kissed her forehead. “I love you so much baby girl, I’m sorry they questioned you. Never change ok?” She nodded half sleep and Roman turned off the lamp light drifting to sleep.

#wwe imagine #wwe one shot #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #age regression #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns fanfic #wwe roman reigns #age regression caregiver

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deaddovestellnotales · 4 months

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BG3 Companions and the Abuse Cycle / Trauma - Astarion

It has been itching in my fingers to write an analysis about the main cast and their trauma (responses). As it happens, Baldurs Gate 3 stumbled into my life at the very time in which I began my trauma recovery, and as such seeing the very struggles I go through represented so well in the game, it will forever hold a dear place in my heart. Alas, enough about me, I will begin my analysis with Astarion, because his trauma (response) is the most like mine, followed by Karlach.

Astarion

From what I can gather of his background, his dialogue, and his actions, Astarion's greatest traumas stem from being controlled and sexually, as well as physically abused. Ever since he had become one of Cazador's Spawns, he had no say about his own life. He was a plaything to be messed with. His opinions did not matter, they were mocked and ridiculed. His boundaries didn't exist to Cazador, neither sexual nor moral ones. Astarion had to live feeling powerless for centuries, made to use his body as a tool for his vampiric abuser.

But that changes when he gets infected by the tadpole. For the first time in so many years, Astarion can make his own choices, can feel in control over himself and his own body. And he relishes in it!

He doesn't want to hold back anymore, he wants to experience everything that was denied to him; The rush of being your own master not being held back by moral obligations, judgments, or most importantly his very nature as a spawn, any longer, is intoxicating.

But Astarion is at the beginning of his trauma recovery journey and suffers from Cazador's bad influence still. So, Astarion doesn't know how to set proper boundaries yet, he doesn't know how to respect other's boundaries either and he enacts what his abuser did to him onto other people. He says he doesn't care about saving others, finds killing fun, and finds hurting other people entertaining if it gives him an advantage. And why? Because this is how Astarion learned to be powerful! Nobody has been kind to him for centuries, or respected a simple word like "No". It's been a big fight, his life is "kill or be killed".

His relationship with his "siblings" is also interesting in that context. He was Cazador's "favorite", reminding me of a Narcissist's golden Child. So even experiencing a healthy relationship with the other spawn was denied to him and this shows as well, as he pities them but he is willing to throw them aside if it means he will gain power (over them).

And if you let Astarion ascend and don't set a good example in his life, by simple respect of his boundaries, he will not break the cycle. He will become Cazador, he will become the abuser.

Now, in contrast, if you respect Astarion's wishes, if you don't force him to do things he doesn't want to do if you stop him from ascending, it is interesting to see his reactions.

For example, if you don't involve yourself with the Drow twins, and read between the lines, recognizing Astarion being uncomfortable, you can see the relief in his facial animation and hear it in his voice (props to the voice actor!), being glad that you are respecting his wishes. Or if you don't rat him out to the blood alchemist in Moonrise Tower (i forgot her name, sorry!), he will be surprised by someone respecting his boundaries for the first time! All those actions change him for the better, the change culminating in his final romance scene - in the case you are dating him - where he will openly state how you showed him that he has a voice even without being all-powerful and abusing others. That you changed him.

Astarion's trauma journey is about learning to set boundaries and using the freedom he has without at the same time becoming what he hates. Astarion's trauma response is fight!

And I find both of these awfully relatable.

There is honestly so much more I want to write about him, but I will save this for another post.

If you want to see where I am going with this about Karlach, await my next rambling post!.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion

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legitalicat · 3 months

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Out of Time

Chapter 4 - "Eldest Son to Eldest Daughter"

an: I am so glad people are enjoying this story! I've been playing with this concept for nearly a year now. I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much! I want to go ahead and put this out there. I have borderline personality disorder and quite a few other mental illnesses, so all of that influences relationships in my life, which is reflected a lot in this story. Also this is not canon Aegon. This is a version of Aegon that lives permanently in my head.

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series Master list here!

Summary: Being the eldest child of the Queen or King is a weight many did not understand. It is a weight that dictates her every choice, ruling her heart and mind. Aegon, understanding the feeling, gives her the gift of a connection she could not have with another person.

TW: Very blatant mental health struggles, Substance Use (I added 🍃 into this world cause it not being in there is unrealistic), talks of alcoholism, religious talk, mentions of injury, self image issues, bad parents, divorced parents, moon tea, Aegon is so in love with reader it makes me ache

Relationships: Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon!Reader, past Aegon Targaryen ii x Helaena Targaryen

Word count: 3.7k

When I woke up this morning, only to find Jace gone from my bed and a cup of moon tea on the table, all I wanted was to hide away from the world. But there was more to my life than just Jace and Aemond. I had others who loved me, who had missed me this entire time. With that in mind, I dressed for the day in a simple lilac colored dress, drank the tea in one quick gulp, and had Ser Erryk escort me to Helaena’s chambers.

Her and Aegon’s children were with him for the morning. With both of them still happily in the Red Keep, I suppose it made sharing their children’s time easier. Though I don’t believe there has been a situation such as this ever. Most marriages that ended in annulment happened because there weren’t children from my understanding. Though until now I had not known of anyone who had gotten an annulment.

“How did my mother grant the end of your marriage?” I couldn’t help but ask Helaena. We were working on our cross stitching together. It was an activity that soothed her and I was all the happier to make sure she was calm. “Doesn’t the Faith typically have to be in agreement? And I mean, you two had three children together, wouldn’t they just deny it?”

Helaena chuckled. “I often times forget how little you and your brothers paid mind to the teachings of the Seven,” she said to me.

Fair enough, I suppose. Technically speaking, we are followers of the Seven. Yet anyone with eyes knew that we only did it because we kind of had to. I don’t believe Mother or Laenor had any vested interest in their teachings. They certainly never passed anything on to us outside of the bare minimum. I know my father’s family believed in the Seven, but since he was never allowed to claim us, he had no right to teach us his beliefs. In truth I only knew anything about them from Alicent.

“So explain it to me as though I’m five,” I said, shrugging a bit.

“It is unholy to hold one in a marriage against their will. Aegon and I were so young when we were married, and it was done under the misguided notion that your mother and family may seek to squash any competition for the Throne, so it was not difficult to make a case for it to be an unlawful marriage. Though I do feel that Rhaenyra may have reminded the Septon that he can be and would be a delicious snack for Syrax should he not see reason,” she told me. The smile that played at her lips as she thought of it was enough to make me smile.

“And what is it you wish to do now?” I asked her.

“I am perfectly content to live my life here. I love my family, I love my home. Though I do wish my mother had bothered to ever understand me,” she explained.

My smile fell from my lips. Time changed many things but Helaena’s distance from Alicent didn’t seem to be one. It was unfortunate, truly, as Helaena was wonderful. She may be more into bugs than most people, she may have her dreams and episodes, but she was not mad. In fact when actually making an effort to know her, one could find she was the opposite.

I had always wished I could see the world Helaena does. The world that I live in is dark and dreary, a place where one loses any semblance of a father before they even understand how great they are. It is a place where most everyone prefers men over women, despite the women being capable and strong in their own right. The world I live in? It is not a place built for Helaena.

Yet the one she lives in? People are praised for what they have done. There is no consideration other than who truly is right and just. Even in the darkest moments in which her mother tried to keep her from being who she is, my mother always gave safe passage to her sweet sister. Helaena paid no mind to those who were insignificant unless they hurt her family or her bugs.

It Is not to say she is naïve. In fact, I would think she sees more truth than any of us. But being the third child, born after an eldest daughter and eldest son, is very different than being the eldest. She did not have to fight to prove she was worthy like Mother did. And she does not have to step away because she knows she would not be accepted over her brother as I do…

I was born approximately two hours before Jacaerys. A long time between twins as I’ve been told, but enough time there was no doubt about who came first. Truthfully to my mother I don’t think it mattered which of us was born before the other. We are twins and therefore she always gave us the choice.

She explained to me that her father had named her heir before he had any other living children and never looked back. Once Aegon was born, most expected Viserys to change his mind. But he remained steadfast in his decision, never caring if Mother still wanted it. To this day I don’t know if she did. As such, she wanted to make sure we always had a choice.

“You’re doing it again,” Helaena said softly.

When I looked to her, she nodded her head to my hands. I had been so completely lost in thought that I didn’t notice I had repeatedly pricked my fingers with the needle I was using. Blood seeped through the fabric in several dots scattered around.

“Sorry,” I muttered before sitting the cross stitch down. Standing, I walked over to the bowl of water that was kept for washing her hands and dunked my fingers in it a few times.

“Our mothers are planning a feast to celebrate your return,” she told me as I turned back around. “I think it will happen week’s end.”

Naturally. It seemed they always found a reason to celebrate me. On my name day, it was always me who got doted on. Jace got put in the shadows, not that he seemed to mind much though. When I claimed Vhaela, only a few weeks before I disappeared, it was a much brighter occasion than Aemond claiming Vhagar. When I returned to King’s Landing, it overshadowed the tourney being held for Aegon to celebrate his own name day.

It was never my Intention, truly. Those around me just deemed me important. I had never wanted to be the center of attention. All I wanted was to do right by my family. Never have I sought out great fortune or the throne for myself, though technically it should be mine by birth order. All I craved was love.

“Are you happy?” I asked her, trying to change the subject.

“Yes. Aegon is a wonderful father, but he could never love me. And I do not love him,” she told me.

Before I was given the chance to respond, the chamber doors opened. Helaena’s children ran to her. The twins, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, were nearing twelve at this point. They looked it, too. If you were to ask me, Jaehaera looked like Alicent but with the typical Targaryen silver hair and violet eyes. Jaehaerys and Maelor, who was nearing eight, were carbon copies of Helaena. They had the same curl to their hair as she did, their noses equally as small and rounded.

As the three children excitedly talked about their morning, I quietly excused myself from the room. While she would never say anything, there was not a place for me with Helaena and her children by myself. Those kids don’t remember me, though I remember Helaena’s every letter describing them in their early years. For both pregnancies, there was not a movement they made inside her that did not warrant a letter to me. But that was then.

In the corridor, Aegon stood and spoke with Ser Erryk. Erryk had a twin too, named Arryk. From what I remembered, Arryk and Aegon were quite close, the former taking on the watching over of the latter once Aegon hit puberty.

“Beautiful kids,” I said to him, offering a small smile. When he looked to me and smiled, I couldn’t help but blush a deep red.

“Thankfully they take more after Helaena,” he said to me. He stepped closer to me, extending a hand to rest under my chin. I swallowed hard as he tilted my face around in the light. “You should perhaps be more careful.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” I said, unable to hide my chuckle.

“Where are you headed to? I could join you,” he suggested as he offered his arm to me to take, dropping his hand from my chin.

“I was just going to head back to my room. Truly, Aegon, there is no need to bother yourself,” I told him.

“My darling, there is never a bother when it comes to you.” His voice was light and airy, as though the words he spoke were just the most casual thing in the world. But there was a firmness to them that I truly believe only he could accomplish.

It wasn’t so much a demand. He was not like Aemond, demanding and sure of himself. He was not like Jace, either, in being soft and guiding always. Aegon was something entirely different.

He had always seemed arrogant. He was the first born son so it was natural that he grew into believing he deserved everything he wanted. But only when you spoke to him when everything else was quiet did you ever get the truth.

He had never been much more than a scared little boy. There were frequent talks of what he feared would happen when Viserys had died. He had always been scared his mother would try to force him to take the Throne. When he was betrothed to Helaena, he was scared he wouldn’t be good enough for her. He was scared that I would grow to hate him, completely ignoring that I could never hate him.

The closeness I shared with Aegon was something that bordered on secretive. While it wasn’t that we felt the need to hide, as there truly was never anything to hide, it was what made him comfortable. He would come to me late at night when he could not sleep. I think it is when he felt safest. Even when we were children he preferred the night.

It was in the night that he saw beauty in his life. He didn’t struggle as much then to resist drinking, which had always seemed backwards to me but he swore it. The pressures that were placed upon him from Otto and Alicent didn’t exist at night. The person he truly is was enough for the shadows of darkness.

Perhaps it is my own cockiness but I like to think I see a side to him that others don’t. When we were alone I got to hear him sing. I don’t think anyone else knew he liked to sing let alone how good he was at it. The first time he ever sang me a song that he had picked up in a tavern, tears sprang to my eyes. And when he isn’t drunk, he is quite smart. He knows politics even better than Aemond. He knows how to get people to like him and trust him, a rare commodity in this world.

And if Helaena says he is a wonderful father, I have no doubt about it. I remember him writing to me the first time Helaena was pregnant. He was so happy and excited, determined to be better to his children than Viserys ever had been to him. When I had come back to King’s Landing, while he still struggled with the drink, he was so devoted to making sure they didn’t see it.

“I would be glad to have you along,” I said, smiling at him. Though I didn’t take his arm. He merely nodded at me and followed me, allowing me to set the pace in which we walked.

As we walked, we walked in silence. Our footsteps echoed off the stone walls, the small ching and squeak of Ser Erryk’s armor followed behind us. I was perfectly comfortable.

We got to my room in just a few minutes as it wasn’t far from Helaena’s. Ser Erryk took his place beside my door. I gave him a small smile and nod before leading Aegon into my room.

He took a seat in a chair in front of the fireplace. He seemed like maybe he ran cold, always choosing to sit close to fires or walking around wrapped in a blanket. I was like that too, of course, much to the hatred of Jace when we shared a room still.

“I am happy to see you home, have you need of anything?” he asked me when I sat in the chair next to his.

“I merely wish there was something I could take for the pain that wasn’t milk of the poppy. The way it muddled your father’s mind has made me certain I will never use it,” I told him simply.

He nodded softly and reached his right hand up his left sleeve. “In case you have not been told, I want you to know I am sober now. Have not had a sip of wine since the night you disappeared,” he told me.

“Aeg, that’s amazing. I am so proud of you,” I said as my heart felt like it was going to burst.

Truly I don’t think he had ever stood a chance against being a drunkard. Mother told me a long time ago how Viserys was giving Aegon wine by his second nameday. I never could understand why Alicent was so okay with that, especially because for my entire life she had yelled at him for being drunk. Like the night Aemond lost his eye, Aegon got blamed for not protecting him because even at thirteen he went and got so drunk he passed out on the steps. How on earth did she go from so passively allowing him to drink when he was a baby to being so vile about his problem?

He looked at me, his face saddened for a split second before he grinned and pulled out a pouch. “The Grand Maester told me to use this. It’s hemp. Mostly used for creating things, building and whatnot. But someone at the Citadel found if you consume it, it gives you what they call a high. But it is gentler on the health than being drunk. I’m not sure the process but they cook it into butter and then can bake it into things.”

He opened the pouch and pulled out a biscuit the size of his palm. He split it in two and offered me half. It didn’t look abnormal or smell any different. The biscuit looked very appetizing though.

“Do I just eat it?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. But start slow. Too much at once and you’ll be completely incapacitated. Just a small bit should help your anguish, both physically and mentally,” he explained. “It will not be immediate like milk of the poppy. But it will be effective.”

Cautiously, I took a bite, eating on a quarter of my half. This was something I would never have done on my own. Yet Aegon had never truly steered me wrong, always seeming to have my best interests at heart.

After he took his own bite, eating a little more than I did, a silence fell between us as he just watched the flames. Aegon sometimes seemed like he wished that the world would open and swallow him whole. The way he would avoid looking at me, or anyone for that matter, spoke volumes about how uncomfortable he was even if nobody else realized it.

I remember once he told me that if he didn’t look at people he could convince himself they weren’t looking at him. When I tried to point out that wasn’t right he just put his hand over my mouth so that I couldn’t. It was that moment I realized how alike he and I are.

I escaped the duties of being Mother’s eldest child by pretending I wasn’t. Stepping aside so that Jace could be heir and acting as though I was okay with it was the biggest way I accomplished this. If I were honest, I wanted to be Queen, not Queen Consort. Hiding that fact from everyone, including my twin, repeatedly affirming his place as the next King essentially robbed me of a piece of my identity and forced me into a new one. One in which I was meant to stand by his side and have his children.

Aegon liked to hide from being the eldest son by pretending he didn’t exist. He didn’t just refuse those duties. He simply treated them as though they weren’t real. He used to disappear rather frequently for a few days at a time, only to be found in a tavern or a brothel and dragged back to the Keep. He had always been so drunk he never remembered his time there.

“I missed you,” he said quietly. “I know you never felt for me the way you did Jacaerys, or even Aemond. But you are probably the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

He didn’t look at me when he said it which made me wonder why he did. It seemed silly to me how badly I wanted him to look at me. My entire life I felt like I had been begging Aegon to look at me.

He was right, I never felt for him the way I did Jace or Aemond. But he was the first person that ever made me blush. He was the first person who I considered marrying for any reason. He was my first crush and I think that for a lot of people that was a pretty sacred role.

I wanted a dragon so badly because of his relationship to his own dragon, Sunfyre. I don’t remember exactly when they came together, only that Aegon claimed Sunfyre just as I claimed Vhaela. And they were a sight to see together, having potentially the strongest bond of any dragon and rider. I swear Aegon could be hundreds of leagues from Sunfyre, merely think of needing him, and Sunfyre would go there without a second thought.

There was also the fact that they were very beautiful together. Sunfyre was perhaps the most beautiful dragon to ever exist. His scales were a dazzling, glittering gold while his belly and wing membranes for a soft pink. When he stood tall, he looked like a perfect golden statue.

Aegon was the epitome of Targaryen beauty. His silver blonde hair was not as long as Aemond’s, but was chin length and began curling near the end. He had the classic Valyrian lilac eyes that sparkled in the firelight. He had a square jawline and lips fuller than Aemond’s. He was about five inches taller than me, and therefore Jace since he was my height, at about five foot ten, and just two inches shorter than Aemond.

He truly was a beautiful mixture of Jace and Aemond. His eyes, hair, and eyes were soft in such a way they drew me in. Yet his jawline was sharp like he was chiseled in stone. One could argue all the gods in the universe came together to create the perfect man in him.

I became very aware I was staring at his lips. My cheeks became hot as the blood rushed to them. He turned to look at me, a small goofy smile on his face when he saw me looking. It caused my cheeks to become even hotter.

“You’ve been staring for quite a while, how are you feeling?” he asked me.

“Fine,” I said as I shrugged.

My feet didn’t quite feel right though. Like they didn’t really exist but they do exist. He chuckled at something, I’m guessing my face, and I could feel a giggle bubbling up in my chest.

“Oh you feel it,” he told me, grinning.

“You’re pretty,” I whispered, leaning towards him. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Pretty?” he asked.

Slowly, I nodded. He was pretty. But not the way Mother or Helaena was pretty in an elegant and sophisticated way. He was the type of pretty like fire. One that was dangerous and wild, where I couldn’t quite guarantee I would make it out alive.

“You’re pretty, too,” he told me quietly.

I think he was the only one to ever call me pretty. Aemond called me beautiful and Jace called me perfect, yet never pretty. Except the times they called me pretty during sex, that is. Being pretty in the mundane was something special to me. It was like I was a flower or even a star.

He reached out and took my hand. We sat in silence for a while. There was no way I could tell how long we sat there, just looking at each other while saying nothing. It felt nice in a way I could not explain.

“My darling pretty girl,” he whispered, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. “How is your pain?”

“Better, thank you, Aegon,” I whispered.

My heart was light in my chest. It fluttered rapidly, my cheeks heating up once again. He was looking at me like I was precious to him.

He stood from the chair, moving to stand in front of me. The flutters turned to a steady pounding. It was beating in my ears loudly. Aegon didn’t say anything before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of my nose, something that he had done when we were kids.

“I will ask the Maesters to prepare you the same biscuits. I do not like to think of you in pain,” he whispered to me. “And it may help if your thoughts get to be too much.”

Without saying another word, he took his leave. He walked out of the room, leaving me to sit alone with only my thoughts of him.

#dividers by benkeibear #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen #mental illness in fiction #out of time

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perenial · 9 months

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gene im so glad you said this cause I haven't seen anyone else comparing it to the book as source material for like character and tone but i am So sure that if terry was alive the season would not be like this but i fear good omens fans dont realise how big a factor the lack of terry's influence is?? or like they forget that good omens was never just neilman???

ok before i go any further: i rly don't want to detract from anyone's enjoyment of the season and everything im going to say comes from a place of love for a) the original novel (& season 1 to a certain extent bc it got me back into it lol) and b) tv as a medium so like peace and love on planet let people enjoy things etc etc

but

like u said, terry's influence on the book was enormous – what makes gomens gomens is the balance of his genuine warmth and precise understanding of humanity tempered with neilman's sardonic voice and general like.....savvy approach to storytelling? i guess u could call it? anyway what rly helps the book is that it took them years to write it, passing ideas back and forth and rewriting each other's work until their voices blended seamlessly and a well structured capital-s Story was created. when i praise the book for being self-contained i think a huge part of that comes from the circumstances in which it emerged: two authors with complementary styles writing in a v particular time period where they had both the space to play with their ideas and the constraints of the novel as a storytelling format from which to craft something extremely specific.

adaptations are a tricky business and a tv version of gomens produced literal decades after the book was always going to have some unique challenges, but i don't think that's a bad thing bc the challenges could prove to be creative opportunities to take both the established audience and those new to the story by surprise. my biggest hot take here is that i don't think translating a story into a different medium means it has to follow the original narrative exactly, bc each medium has its own ways of communicating information and these structures, rules and traditions in turn inform what that story is. what matters more than following a story beat-by-beat is capturing what that story is about at its core, what themes and messages and ideas it works through and how.

all this is to say i never expected tv gomens to be a perfect reproduction of the book and if it had it been, it probably would have been worse off for it. that being said, there are parts of the book – like u said, its tone and character – that needed to have some fidelity in order to pull it off, and for the most part s1 did that bc it was still working predominantly within the bounds of the novel & its core ideas. while i did have some issues w how neilman & amazon adapted some details and characterisations, i generally rly liked s1 – it reminded me of why i loved the book and it was just generally fun to watch.

s2 was. not that fun to watch

a few positives before i go ham w the critiques:

the hair & makeup + costumes were fantastic (although i feel like s1 was slightly better re: makeup?)

the sound design & score made some of the more awkward scenes bearable and thats no mean feat imo

david & michael gave incredible performances w what they were given – michael especially managed to salvage aziraphale enough that his complete 180 didnt feel completely tonally dissonant (more on this later)

the detail of the sets is NUTS and i genuinely want to see more of hell bc of how intricate and fun the props look

i actually like gabriel/beelzebub!! their getting together montage worked for me, although they could have spent sliiiightly more time establishing what it is they like abt each other so much + why gabriel wanted to stop armageddon 2.0 so suddenly

the opening scene, although not on par w the novel's & s1's, was visually gorgeous and thematically resonant (although neilman owes me royalties for ripping it off from this shitty fic i wrote back when raphael!crowley was all the rage lol)

now w THAT being said:

like i said yesterday, the pacing was fucking awful. flashbacks are hard to work w at the best of times and the way they were used in this season felt so needless, especially the 40s one in ep 4 that takes up like 90% of the episode. in both flashbacks + present day there were scenes that dragged for no real reason, dialogue that looped back around on itself to stretch out the runtime, and weirdly enough places where there should have been character & plot work where there just,, wasn't any?? for example, maggie & nina's night locked in the café – some parts of the dialogue in later episodes made out that they'd had some rly deep conversation abt how they feel about each other or even that they'd had an affair, but that isn't clear from those scenes in the café. i'm not saying we had to see that conversation in its entirety but that there needed to be more connective details – either in dialogue or direction – that gave that part of the story coherence.

(there were pacing issues w the editing too but i don't want to jump down the editor's throats on this one bc im more focused on writing & direction issues)

the second major problem that i mentioned in my tags yesterday is the protagonist shift, which is an issue that started in s1. aziraphale & crowley are side characters in book gomens – significant ones, yeah, but still somewhat peripheral to adam (& anathema who counts as a deuteragonist imo). this works incredibly well w who they are as characters: they're Just Some Guys who happen to be involved in this epic biblical-level bureaucratic nightmare and importantly, they don't want to be in the spotlight. the arrangement was created so that they could explore what it meant to be themselves away from the Big Narrative; literally any time they get involved in larger affairs is bc the plot is alive and caught them unionising on company time. the last fucking chapter is adam (& god) being like haha u guys are alright keep it sleezy and letting them go. like. hello. neil u let them go.

but then!! tv gomens s1 does something interesting at the end w the body swapping addition that i dont totally hate – it gives aziraphale & crowley the extra bit of character work that brings them slightly more adjacent to their book selves. see i kinda view tv a/c as the younger, less settled versions of book a/c; they're still caught up in the immediacy of being key players and haven't fully realised that earth is their home. i haven't watched s1 in a while but one scene i remember rly clearly is crowley throwing all those astronomy texts in the air and angsting abt when he was an angel; i remember it bc his anguish in that scene feels a lot newer and rawer than book crowley's feelings about falling. when tv a/c do their bodyswap, it gives them the chance to land a blow against heaven/hell in a way that solidifies their allegiance to earth in a way that more closely resembles what book a/c have been abt the entire time (still adjacent, though. not parallel).

the reason why this works is that it does one final pivot to orient aziraphale and crowley as almost-main characters in a manner that makes sense in relation to a) their book selves and b) the position the tv show has placed them in. a combination of factors made tv a/c feel a lot less mature than their book counterparts but at the end of s1 they're sort of facing the same direction the book ended in, albeit through their own flashy late 2010s means.

when s2 was announced i was.......apprehensive bc to me, that felt like a satisfactory ending. i get the impression that amazon saw how wildly successful the adaptation was and was like oh shit we could make way more money out of this and neilman, having all those undead darlings that he and terry killed in the process of whittling the book into a workable novel, jumped at the chance to resurrect all those half-realised ideas. but not only were those ideas probably discarded for a reason, they've either been laying in wait for years unworked or they're new inventions, which means they weren't molded in the way that the book had been. like i said before, book gomens underwent years of rewrites and creative collaboration, and i think that process was what made it so good; s2 didn't have that. even if some of terry's ideas made it into s2, his influence is still missing bc he and neilman weren't in dialogue the same way they were in the book (and in some ways s1 bc i know terry was involved in the process of adapting gomens to screen before his death).

i don't think it's a case of newer fans forgetting terry so much as it is the context of terry's involvement being so removed from the current circumstances that certain aspects & discourses (i.e. is the s2 finale queerbaiting (no), does binge watching change the viewership experience (yes), etc etc) about the show overshadow other discussions that would usually be taking place. and before anyone says it's a case of neilman forgetting terry, i definitely don't think it's that either bc thats. yknow. wildly disrespectful. but also there are larger systems and structures at play than one writer no matter how much beef i have w him and his decisions, bc ultimately he's just one guy (a powerful and wealthy guy, but just a guy) and there's a wider cultural shift happening rn towards rehashing old stories without understanding what made them successful in the first place, and that same culture just doesn't allow for much, if any, constructive discourse analysis

so yeah

#replies.txt #Anonymous #god this is so long and rambling i hope it makes sense lmaooo #i have further thoughts on the general fic-y feeling of the season but that wasnt rly anon's question so i'll save that for another time #good omens #good omens spoilers

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