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#capitalism ruins f everything
theodoradove · 8 months
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something something the true glory days of the garden of allah and the chateau marmont were when they kind of sucked as residences
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💬 + Urahara [[ because she was one of the three captains to witness his captain's exam... ]]
Talking About People
"Urahara-san, is it? Despite how he is viewed by some of my colleagues, I hold a great deal of respect for the man. He possesses a mind on par with Kurotsuchi-taicho and Aizen Sosuke, he possesses compassion on par with Komamura-taicho, and he possesses a sense of pragmatism on par with myself and Kyoraku-taicho. A true renaissance man, that one. His actions have saved us all countless times throughout this past century. He always attempts to do what he believes is right, and he is willing to do just about anything to see his mission through. Should we both survive the coming conflicts, I would very much like the chance to speak with him properly once again."
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arcielee · 1 month
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The Dragon and the Wolf
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Summary: “...perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.” Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader Word Count: 2700+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, kissing, oral (f receiving), loss of virginity, slight overstimulation, creampie. Author’s Note: This was the poll winner! 💜 Thank you to my lovelies @aemondsbabe and @valeskafics for helping me brainstorm the title. No beta, my mistakes are my own and I am woefully sorry for them all. This will be a series of one-shots of the moments between Prince Aemond Targaryen and his Northern bride-to-be (which I pulled from my OC!Stark x Aemond Targaryen story, but whatever). There will be fluff and there will be smut. Enjoy!
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You could feel the panicked gaze from your handmaiden, her visceral exasperation spilling as she watched you pace the room, but you could not hold still. 
Not tonight, not after that kiss.
She begged until you finally allowed her to help you change into your nightgown, despite how your skin felt aflame. She then took your hand to lead you to the vanity to sit, to hold still, to allow her to brush and braid your hair for bed, just as she had every night since you first arrived to the Red Keep months ago.
You had traveled from Winterfell at the behest of your brother, a promise to see through what the late King Jaehaerys failed to accomplish: to solidify the bond between the North and South kingdoms. Cregan saw no harm with the capital’s proposal, as you had already scorned all of the Northern lords who called for your hand. 
“Who knows, sister,” his eyes twinkled just as your father’s had when he was still alive, “perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.” 
You had scoffed, but soon realized how right Cregan had been, that you were enamored from the moment you met Aemond. The rest of the Keep seemed to fade away as you watched him, his imposing severity that settled into the sharp contours of his face and in the way he held himself. He towered you; he watched you with his one eye, a lovely lavender that flitted over you, while the other was hidden beneath a leather patch with the wrathful scar that curled above and below. 
You remembered the touch of his hand–his palm calloused and warm and gentle–when he took your own; you recalled the spill of silver as he leaned forward and the softness of his lips against your knuckles with his kiss. Even his low timbre soothed you as he repeated your name; the introduction left you blood rising to the surface. 
Your courtship with the prince was something to be displayed–an ailing king’s desperate grasp at legacy. Aemond played the role of the perfect, regal gentlemen, but you wished to pull him away from the prying eyes of the court, to learn everything about the infamous one-eyed Targaryen prince.
There were stolen moments scattered with Aemond and you collected them piece by piece, but still you were rarely, if ever, allowed a moment to be truly alone with him. 
It was not until the crowned princess returned to the capital, and the chaos that followed and ruined the family supper, that you were able to follow after Aemond, out into the gardens of the Red Keep. 
You recognized his silhouette at once, and moved closer until you saw his ethereal glow from how the moon poured over him. Your tone was soft at first, a teasing kindness until you saw the upwards curl of his lips, and you dared giggle with your encouragement that he should teach you swear words that would best describe his nephews in High Valyrian. 
And then something changed, something shifted. Aemond stepped closer and you felt the cool night air pull away, enveloped by his warmth, the scent of smoke and leather and sandalwood. His palm moved to cup the side of your face and then he kissed you. 
This was your first truly intimate moment you shared with your betrothed. And it was also your first kiss. 
You sighed sweetly in his mouth, a kindled passion that thrummed from where his hands touched your hips, his hold to pull you closer only to quickly recoil once one of the Cargyll knights finally found you both. 
The White Cloak then escorted you back to your quarters, your steps lead-filled, and here you were expected to sit still as your handmaiden fret over your hair. 
But you could not sit still, hence why your slippered foot tapped the stone floor, your heart pounding violent against your chest as that kiss in the garden replayed in your mind…
“Please, my lady,” your handmaiden squeaked, the ivory comb tangling in your hair.
Your hands flared out to ward off her touch, your tone cutting. “Thank you, but that is enough. You are relieved from your duties for the rest of the night,” you stood up, pushing the poor girl and sending her stumbling towards the door. 
Her eyes were wide. “I–I have not finished with–” 
“I have hands of my own,” you grabbed the silk robe to cover yourself, “I shall manage,” and when you turned to step towards the girl once more, she squeaked again. She moved to open the door and paused to see Prince Aemond already poise, his one arm tucked behind his back and the other lifted as if he meant to knock. 
It was an eternal silence; Aemond looked startled, but his gaze eventually found yours, and you stared back, unabashed, burning from the sight of him. 
Meanwhile your handmaiden, mortified, shrank to slip past the prince and leave.
Only when you heard the soft sound of the door closing behind did you find the courage to move towards Aemond, reaching for his tunic and pulling him close. You fell into him, your lips hungry for his own and he returned your passion before slowing to savor, his tongue running your bottom lip and then curling into your mouth. 
It continued until your breath was an exchange between, his exhale becoming your inhale and trilling through your veins, pumping your heart. Your mind was clouded with his proximity–you felt giddy and your hands twisted into his tunic to hold yourself upright. 
He hummed, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flushed against his chest. A shy sigh spilled when you felt his length pressing through the fabric and against your stomach, a bolt of warmth and want curling together. But your passion was replaced with a trepidation, something that now curdled instead. 
You broke the kiss, a rosiness spilling from your lips to your cheeks, to the tip of your nose: “I lost my maidenhead on horseback.” You felt your blood thicken with your confession. “But I have never been…” 
The words would not come, but Aemond did not need them. Instead he closed the little space you created, his warm palms moving to cup your face and bring you back to capture your lips with a tender kiss. 
“I will be gentle,” his low timbre promised. “I do not wish to hurt you.” 
You believed him, as you had seen his actions that spoke far louder during your time at the capital. He had always shown you a careful consideration since the courtship began, but now you found that you could not wait another moment. 
Your fingers pulled at the silk robe you had thrown on, allowing it to slip from your shoulders and puddle onto the floor. Your hands moved to the lacing that lined the front of your nightgown, but you paused, pinned under the lavender of his eye. 
His chest rose and fell with his steadied breath a moment before he offered his hands, his slender fingers gentle to loosen the ties. Aemond stopped to place kisses on the slope of your shoulder, your chest, a soft tickle of his lips as more of your skin was bared to him. 
You felt vibrant, ignited by his touch, and you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, admiring the flush of rose that now stained his skin. You pulled at your skirts, grabbing the bottom hem and peeling it over, dropping it into the silk puddle already at your feet. 
Lust now swallowed the lavender, but Aemond only hummed his admiration as his gaze slowly dragged from your face, following your curves and then returning to meet with your eyes again. 
“Gevie,” he mused with a slight curl to his lips. 
You burned, cursing your Septa for the little Valyrian she indulged to teach you, too shy to ask now for a translation, but bold enough to reach for him. Your fingers touched the buckles of his tunic. Aemond hummed again as you began to undress him, until he was bare from the waist up, and the heat that pooled from him now seeped and curled into your core. 
His form was lean, taut, with a muscular definition and its decoration of silver scars scattered across his chest and his abdomen. Your fingers trailed the lines that cut into his trimmed waist, and then you stepped closer to press a soft kiss to the right side of his jaw. 
Aemond caught your chin, bringing your lips to meet with his own again. His kiss was drawn out, wringing the air from your lungs but still so gentle that you could not help but melt into his chest, into the warmth that he embodied. 
Your fingers reached to touch his jaw but paused, a hovering hesitation. He took your hand and brought it back to cradle against his chest, watching you. You swallowed. “Aemond, please,” you began slowly, your voice careful, “I wish to see all of you.”
His jaw steeled with your request, tense for that moment but then he reached with his other hand to remove the eyepatch. The crimson seemed bolder, brighter, cutting through from his brow and into his cheek, and you also saw that placed in his scarred socket was a sapphire stone that glittered in the amber light of the room. 
You pressed to your tiptoes, your fingertips touching to tilt his jaw down and you pressed a kiss beneath, your lips careful to trail his maim before placing another against his cheek. “Ñuha zaldrīzes,” but you were slow with the only Valyrian you knew, and finished with another kiss to his lips. 
My dragon. 
His expression was unreadable, and for a moment you believed that you had ruined the practiced pronunciation. But then Aemond moved to wrap his arms back around your waist, his face burying into the softness of your neck and his hands grabbing into the curves of your hips. Your laughter spilled as you felt him lift you enough for your feet to not touch the stone floors, your arms wrapping around his neck, and Aemond moved with wide steps, bringing you back towards your bedside. 
You fell back onto the mattress, looking up at him. His neck bobbed as his eye followed the pink hues that now spilled from your cheeks to your neck and onto your chest. Your nipples were peaked and your eyes shone bright as he stepped closer, climbing onto the bed and moving on top of you.
He tucked his head to trace the slope of your neck with his lips and your back arched with the desire to feel his chest against your bare skin, a fluttered moan spilling from you. Aemond moved lower, placing warm, open mouthed kisses that scorched your skin, with a warmth that was pouring into your core. 
Aemond continued lower, his silver tresses spilling and tickling your skin as he moved between your plush thighs. You mewled with the touch of his lips to the inside, and your thighs squeezed to stop him. 
You are breathless. “It tickles.” 
He only hummed, reaching to press his hand onto your stomach, a comforting touch as his fingers traced abstract lines on your skin. “Let me,” and his exhale was titillating as he nestled back between. 
Aemond was careful with his touch, just as he always showed himself to be. He was aware of your every sound and sigh, pacing himself with a slow rhythm that began to build until his clever tongue had you pinned to the mattress. 
You blossomed with bated breath, grabbing fistfuls of the bed linen to ground yourself from falling into the trance of his ministrations. You felt a prod at your entrance, his finger curling within, and your pleasure fluttered up your spine. It was too much and you writhed from his mouth, but his other hand moved underneath your thigh, gripping into your soft flesh, halting you. 
Let me.
Aemond quickened his pace, encouraged by your quiet pants, from how your heartbeat now pulsed around the digits that were knuckle deep in you. You felt Aemond pulling you towards a precipice that was consuming, a warmth that crashed against and spilled throughout. Your heart still bruised against your ribs from the cresting tremors of your fading pleasure, and only then did you notice it. 
How Aemond grinned smugly against your wet cent. 
You reached with boneless fingers that tangled into his silver hair, pulling him back so you could capture his mouth that now glistened with you. It was your own bittersweet taste on his lips and you felt emboldened to grab his waistband. When your fingers brushed against his heavy bulge that pressed the crotch of his slacks, a sweeping shyness returned. 
He pulled back with a sly smile, removing them before he moved back on top. His arms cage you to the bed and your skin rose with how his breath fanned against your cheeks. “I do not wish to hurt you,” he repeated after a moment, but his heavy hesitation lifted as you pulled him into the cradle of your hips.  
You sighed from how he molded into the softness of your body, and Aemond gave another savoring kiss. “Please, Aemond,” your eyes wet from your want, and his head dipped to watch as he grabbed the base, careful to line himself with your entrance. 
Aemond paused with a new trepidation that settled along the rose hues that dusted his sharp features. You squirmed beneath him, searching for friction, to feel the blunt press of his cockhead against your silken folds. 
“Aemond,” you now plead, a honeyed whisper, another kiss to encourage him, “I want you.” 
He watched you as he pressed forward, and you felt a stretch, a fullness as his hips moved against yours. You tensed from the new sensation, your nails biting and leaving red crescent marks that startled against the white of his skin. 
Aemond stilled at once, allowing you a moment to adjust, his brow furrowed with his concern. You then let out a soft exhale before tilting your chin to give him a kiss, a promise that you were fine. 
And only then did Aemond move, slowly, carefully, with each gentle thrust that split you further as he sheathed himself fully within you. It rekindled a deeper passion, and your eyes widened with a small gasp; he dipped his head to press his lips to your neck, decorating the column with his kisses, your pulse thrumming beneath. It began to ripple through you and your thighs tightened around his slender waist, beckoning him closer still. 
“Aemond,” you gasped.
He hummed his acknowledgement, pushing himself up. He used one arm for balance while his other hand moved to press onto your hip, his palm trailing closer to your bloom above, his thumb moving in circles. 
You felt raw, sensitive still from before, and something sparked with his touch. The air was thick and caught in your throat; a passion spilled from you without the same tensity from the first time, though still with a melody that played sweetly throughout your veins. 
Your velvet walls clenched with your climax and it pulled Aemond after. He groaned his own release, melting against you and burying his face back into the curve of your neck. You gasped again from how he pulsed between your legs, his heart rattling through to your bones. 
After a moment,  Aemond rolled to the side, his chest expanding to catch his breath before he reached to pull you to curl against him, equally breathless and aglow. Your arm was thrown across, your face pressed against to feel the rhythm of his heart, his seed spilling onto your thigh; his fingers began to trace patterns on your skin. 
He leaned to press another kiss to your hairline, and he whispered the same word from before. “Gevie.” 
“What does that mean?” You cannot help your grin, tilting your head back to look at him. 
His other hand came round, a finger pressed to your cheek to look at you. “Beautiful,” he said and then he gave you another kiss. 
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Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @sylasthegrim @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowprincesa1 @officerbrowneyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @hb8301 @namelesslosers
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onlyhuis · 10 months
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behave!
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member | jeonghan x f reader genre | smut word count | 2.1k synopsis | you like misbehaving, and jeonghan likes putting you in your place. even more so when you know you're being filmed. smut warnings | descriptions of female anatomy, mean dom jeonghan, hannie is a sadist but reader is a masochist so it works out, hate sex (spoiler: it's pretend!), heavy degredation mixed with praise, oral (reader receiving), some fingering, edging, one (1) ruined orgasm, sexual acts on camera, choking, marking, begging, spitting in reader's mouth, reader is a capital b Brat, some borderline pet play (??), maybe kinda bulge kink but only for a second, nicknames (slut, whore, bitch, puppy, angel, good girl), hannie is called sir a couple times, everything is shown to be consensual beforehand!! implied established relationship, aftercare, playful banter between hannie & reader, the ending is soft :) notes | this is payback for @duhnova and @onlymingyus because i love torturing you both. i wish i had more notes to say about this but i literally wrote it at 3am after i told yall i was going to sleep oopsies (also tagging @lovelyhan because you need to suffer too!!)
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“smile for the camera, baby,” jeonghan grins mischievously, holding his phone in one hand as he traces his fingers over your stomach.
“fuck you, jeonghan!”
he tsks, index finger circling around your belly button. “you won’t get to, not with that attitude.”
you stay silent and give him a glare, watching as his fingers slowly travel lower, ghosting over your skin. he’s teasing, and both of you know it. but although there’s nothing you can do to stop it, you don’t even really want to.
he presses his hand flat against your stomach and automatically you let out a whimper, feeling the tension already beginning to build in your core and you’re not even halfway undressed yet. he relishes in your involuntary sounds, knowing that no matter how you pout and pretend to be angry with him and try to hide them from him, he knows your body like the back of his own hand and it won’t be long until he’s got you screaming his name.
he pushes harder and your hands grab at his wrist, unclear whether you’re trying to push him away or hold him in place to add even more pressure. you can’t help the way your legs slide further and further apart, wordlessly begging him to do more than he’s already doing, because it’s not enough.
“you feel that, baby?” he says, pressing the heel of his palm into your abdomen. “feel how empty you are?”
you keep your mouth shut, determined to continue being a brat as long as he’s got his camera out. you already know that watching this recording back the next time you’re horny will be a damn treat, and you’re enjoying riling him up just as much as he enjoys you doing it. misbehaving is half the fun, after all; and when the reward is so sweet, how could you resist?
jeonghan clicks his teeth, tsking at your lack of a response. “if you aren’t gonna talk, then i might as well just put this away and go on with my day. but i know my little whore wouldn’t like that, would they?”
“and why should i say anything to you?” you spit back at him, and your stomach jumps in anticipation when you see his eyes light up at your words.
his nostrils flare as he sets his phone down on the table, giving it no more than a half second of thought on whether or not he’s propped it up properly before he’s bending over you, face to face in a split second.
his hand is still flat against your stomach, and the tip of his nose presses against your cheek with how close he suddenly is to your face. his breath is warm on your lips, and your heart races as you try to guess what he’s about to say to you.
“because, i can just leave you here, soaking wet and painfully horny and it wouldn’t bother me one bit,” he says, “i know your adorable little panties are ruined right now and you’re dripping onto the fucking sheets. i could smell you a mile away like a bitch in heat, that’s how bad you want me. and if you keep acting like a fucking brat, you aren’t going to get any of me. is that clear?”
you nod without a word, knowing it’s not the reaction he wants and purposefully not giving it to him as a final act of defiance. you know him well enough to know he’s reaching the end of his patience, and you can’t keep up being a brat forever. not when you can see how thick the bulge in his pants is, not when you can see the veins popping out in his arms, not when you can see that look in his eyes when you know he’s going to fuck you so hard you’ll be feeling it for days afterward.
he sits up and his hand on your stomach flies to your chin, gripping it tightly. on instinct your lips part in compliance as he forces your jaw open and puckers his lips, violently spitting into your eagerly awaiting mouth.
he wipes the remnants of spit from around his mouth with the back of his free hand, still holding onto your jaw with his other. “when i say speak, i mean speak, bitch. if i say bark, you bark. use your words like a good puppy and i’ll reward you, but disobey me and i’ll make you regret every second of it.”
jeonghan lets go of your mouth and you exhale a shaky but excited breath, this time quick to give him an answer. “yes, sir.”
he leans over you to adjust his phone on the nightstand, eyes narrowing with a sly smile. “now that’s a good girl. see how easy that was?”
“yes, sir,” you answer again. you know this part of the routine; he doesn’t do rhetorical questions, and you know better than not to answer him now.
when he’s satisfied with the camera’s placement he leans back down over you, his lips just centimeters above yours. this time you can’t hide your whines, and he coos. “aw, sweetheart, did it hurt when i grabbed you? want me to kiss it better for you, my little angel?” there’s just enough sarcasm in his tone to know he doesn’t care whether or not it hurt, and he won’t kiss it better, no matter what your answer is.
again it’s a trick question, and again you know exactly what response he’s looking for. “no, sir,” you whisper, barely enough space between you and him for you to move your lips to speak. “i liked it. sir.”
he grins sadistically, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth anyways. “what a good whore,” he praises, “taking what i give you so well.”
he moves on to your neck, biting roughly at the skin below your jaw and sucking for so long you’re sure he can feel your pulse jump each time a new bruise begins to form.
“jeonghan—” you gasp out his name as he moves lower to your collarbones, teeth scratching along your skin as he stares up at you through his pretty long lashes, never breaking the eye contact despite how you writhe beneath him.
“that’s a good girl,” he says, his mouth hovering over your nipple as he looks up at you. “let me hear all those pretty sounds you make. need to hear how good i’m making you feel.”
his tongue laves over your breast and you arch your back up into him, struggling to keep your voice from breaking as you reply with another “yes, sir”.
you’re aware that he’s still teasing you as he works his way down your body, taking longer than necessary to get to where you really want him to be. but the feeling of his mouth covering every inch of your skin is too good to pass up, despite the way your cunt throbs and the uncomfortable feeling of your ruined panties sticking to your soaked folds. 
but finally, mercifully, he must decide that even he’s had enough teasing for one night, because he slides down in between your legs, pressing a kiss to your clit over the fabric of your underwear.
you exhale as tears begin to form in your eyes, already exhausted from being edged and denied and he’s still barely done a thing. “god, fuck— hannie, please, more, please give me more, please—” you babble, your hands gripping the sheets below you until your fingers begin to numb.
usually when you piss him off it’ll take a lot more begging than that to get him to cave, but he must be feeling generous today because he just smiles, fingertips hooking into the waistband of your underwear as he slides them down your legs. “sound so nice when you beg, angel. now look at how you get rewarded when you behave.”
“wait, jeongha—”
and that’s all the warning you get before he dives in. his hands pry apart your thighs, roughly pinning your legs to the bed as his mouth wraps around your clit and he begins to suck as hard as he can. your vision goes black for a second as you struggle to process the sudden stimulation, and your brain can’t catch up quick enough with how fast and rough jeonghan’s tongue moves against you in unpredictable patterns and movements.
you open your mouth to tell him that you’re right at the edge, you’re close you’re so fucking close it feels like you might die, but your breath catches in your throat before you can say a word and you feel yourself start to crest into your orgasm without warning.
until jeonghan pulls away, and your pussy clenches hard around nothing but air. the sudden change in pace is jarring, but it’s already too late to stop yourself from falling over the edge; except the edge is gone, your orgasm ruined at just the right moment.
your chest tightens and your lungs burn, gasping for air as your orgasm crumbles away into nothingness. each pulse of your cunt sears through your entire body and your veins feel like they’re on fire, the usual pleasure from your high stopped short by jeonghan taking it away from you. 
in the back of your mind you realize that of course he could tell you were close, of course he kept going and of course he knew exactly when to stop so that you wouldn’t get a single ounce of pleasure out of it, because he just knows you that well. even if you had tried to hide it, you wouldn’t have been able to: whatever jeonghan does, your body listens and obeys.
the tears finally spill down your cheeks, eyes squeezed shut as you scream in frustration, every nerve in your body on edge and every muscle tensed.
when you regain your breath enough to open your eyes again, you see jeonghan sitting below you looking smug. “oops,” he says nonchalantly, and if you had any energy left in your body you would’ve slapped him.
“god, i hate you so fucking much,” you rasp out, and he grins contentedly and presses a little kiss to the inside of your thigh before he sits up.
“you know you love me,” he giggles. 
he reaches over to the table to turn off the camera and set his phone facedown before he moves out from between your legs. you close your eyes again and sigh, your whole body feeling like jelly as you breathe in and out, slowly coming back down to earth.
“you just wanna take a break, or are you done for tonight? that sounded rough,” jeonghan says, and when you open your eyes again he’s sitting next to you on the bed holding a glass of water. with a groan you force yourself to sit up as he holds the glass in front of your mouth to help you drink.
“if i could move my arms right now, i would splash this right in your face, hannie.”
he laughs, thoroughly used to your post-orgasmic insults by now. “and honestly, i’d deserve it. that was a little mean even for me, huh?” 
you snort, leaning your head back against the headboard. “yeah, it was. asshole.”
he smiles, his eyes much softer now than before. “but it was hot, though,” he says excitedly. “i can’t fucking wait to watch that video. it might be my new favorite.”
you glare at him, eyebrows knitted into a pout. “i was literally on the verge of death and you thought it was hot?”
“oh, shut up. you thought it was hot, too, and you know it. that’s why you do your little brat routine every time i start recording, because you know you love it.”
you don’t have the brainpower to come up with a comeback for that, because he’s right. rough and nasty and fast is exactly the way you like it, maybe even more than he does at times. but once that feral side of you is satiated with an orgasm powerful enough to nearly knock you out, it leaves you to better appreciate the other things he’s good at: like holding you close and making you feel safe and loved, or kissing you all over and making sure he didn’t really hurt you with anything he did, or helping you drink water when your bones feel like mush.
you huff and roll your eyes at him. “can you just fuck me now, please? i’m still mad at you. start making up for it.”
he sets your empty glass down on the table and climbs back over you to gently kiss your lips, still dry from how much you were moaning. “mm, of course i can do that. your wish is my command, angel.”
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i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!
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poraphia · 6 months
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OKAY THIS IDEA HAS BEEN BOUNCING AROUND IN MY HEAD FOR AWHILE SOOO
So basically reader is a vigilante and for one reason or another they end up in a fight with Wilbur. Reader is really cocky about it and ends up flirting with him the entire fight. Wilbur is amused and a bit shocked but most likely unaffected.
After a couple fights where the flirting does not stop he decides flirt back thinking reader would also be unaffected because they've been actively flirting the entire time. But reader gets Flustered with a capital F. Like, they're face is all red and everything
"Let's Make Music, Honey Voice."
pairing • siren x vigilante!music!reader 1289 • 9.25.23 containing • continuous flirting and teasing, one HEAVILY SUGGESTIVE FLIRT, depictions of fighting, bits of cursing :) my masterlist ~! ღ mrs. mania ღ on Tumblr
"It was so easy winning against you in a fight, but flirting back? You have my knees weak."
♡♡♡
Okay, maybe I got a bit carried away with this one.
But what could I say? It’s not every day you can beat a supervillain senseless.
I stared down at Siren from an elevated rooftop. With a cocky grin, I plucked gently at some tunes on my bass, taunting him with my upbeat melody. He got up from his ruined state, scoffing at my victory lap around the edge.
“Aw, what’s the matter?” I mocked, exaggerating the tilt of my head as my torso nearly bent. “You look so cute when you’re flustered, sweetheart! I guess somebody forgot to do his vocal training today.” I giggled. He only smirked in response, letting his coat flutter with the soft wind that was picking up.
“Yeah, yeah,” He brushed off. “But I’m still standing. Give me some credit here, Strings.” He shrugged. I rolled my eyes before holding my guitar in position. The moon played as our light above us. The street lights below barely illuminated the villain’s strong jaw and curly locks. My hair swayed with the midnight breeze as the moon’s reflection highlighted my axe bass hybrid. I took a deep inhale, a near-enamored sigh escaping my nostrils.
“Fine, I’ll give you another chance, but only because you’re cute!” I chimed. With my thumb, I strummed hard at the steel strings, aiming to knock Siren down again with my sound waves. But instead, Siren dodged out of impact, making a B-Line straight toward me. I quickly hopped off the ledge and onto another building. Siren was behind me, hot on my trail. Quickly, I ran as fast as I could before strumming down, boosting me off of the ground and into the air, leaving Siren breathless. I couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle.
“I know you’re obsessed with me, but come on now!” I called out. I gently strummed to glide my way through the winds. Siren searched around the building, retrieving a spare, lengthy rope. He fiddled with the material for a few seconds before forming a lasso and hooking me on. A sharp squeak escaped my throat as I was immediately pulled down. I clutched on my bass, bracing for impact, but instead, I landed straight into Siren’s arms.
Immediately, I smiled and stretched my limbs out. “Ahh, sorry babe, you can only hold me like this after our wedding.” I ruffled his hair and hopped out of his grasp, sliding against the concrete floor.
Siren clicked his tongue before rolling his head in a circle, cracking his neck while facing me. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who doesn't fight melee.” He commented. I hummed a bit, noticing the slight irritation in his voice. I gripped my bass by the neck, taking off the strap, and pointed the blade of the axe towards him.
“You sure you wanna fight melee? Don’t want to chop your head off.” I giggled.
“Drop your weapon and don’t pick it back up.” His voice rang in my ears in such an angelic way that if I had a choice, I’d probably drop my weapon anyway. My bass axe clattered against the ground, leaving me with my bare hands. I looked at him with puffed-up cheeks, annoyed by his superpower. In turn, he shined his cheeky grin at me.
“No fair!” I cried.
“Oh, it is very much fair.” Without a gap between his words, Siren lunged at me, forcing me to put my arms up in self-defense. I pushed him back by kicking him in the stomach. I aimed to punch his face with one first after another, but skillfully he ducked down and dodged both hits. He ran past me, gripping both of my wrists tight. I winced in pain, struggling for my freedom. With enough tugging, I was able to free my dominant hand, elbowing him in the stomach to loosen his grip on my other arm. I escaped his grasp, turning around so that I could face him.
“Y’know,” I huffed, swinging my leg to kick him in the face, only for him to narrowly avoid my attack with a crouch. He continued to aim punches at me as I struggled to move past his fists. “We could make a cute band together!” We tangoed under the stars as our legs guided us to safety. “Me, the cool bassist that steals your heart, and you, the singer, who would write countless romantic songs for me—!” Before I could continue on my words, Siren made a clean sweep with leg, nearly tripping me over. In one swift second, as I was about to hit the ground, Siren picked up my bass and hooked the two of us inside the strap. My back rested on the instrument as he held it behind me.
The supervillain towered over me in close proximity. I stared up at him, not sure if I could formulate the words to comment on our position. Slowly, he leaned his lips into my ear.
“Then how about we go back to my place and make some sweet, sweet music, hm?” He whispered. "Maybe I could get some lovely tunes out of you.."
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
Words refused to register in my brain. “I— Ah— mm—!” Suddenly I was a stuttering mess. The heat rising to my cheeks was nearly unbearable. Siren retreated from my ear and looked down at me a bewildered expression forming on his face. This may be the one time I regret choosing a masquerade mask to protect my identity. If my bashfulness wasn’t apparent enough in my voice, he could certainly see it from my glowing red cheeks!
“Strings, are you..—?”
“S-Shut up!” I interrupted him from continuing his sentence. I slipped out of our position, letting the cool air slap in my face as I turned my back on the blindfolded man. Never has Siren ever attempted to flirt with me back. My heart was racing out of my chest and my knees felt so weak. I wanted to run and squeal around this rooftop, but instead, I maintained my composure to the best of my ability.
As if to toy with me, Siren approached me, pressing his chest against my head. He lifted my bass over me, letting the strap fall onto my shoulder. “Carry your instrument.” He commanded. My arms flew up, immediately grabbing it by the neck and hip. I was too paralyzed and flustered to move and make any sort of remark. This made Siren hum curiously.
“I’ve never heard you this quiet.” He said, almost shocked. It took all my might to not turn around and bang this man in the head. Instead, I remained composed to the best of my ability. He began walking around me, now standing in front. With his hands behind his back, he leaned down with his face nearly inches away from mine. “Let’s call this a tie, I suppose.” His smile was wide and prideful, and rather than being annoyed, I felt my heart melt at such a sight.
“I-It’s whatever…” I mumbled, too shy to even look at him through my mask. Siren chuckled, tapping the tip of my nose with his index finger.
“I’ll be seeing you around then, my bassist.” With that, he waved me goodbye as he walked off, disappearing into the night. My heart pounded my ears, not even working up the courage to move my wobbly legs. I swallowed hard, feeling the lump in my throat go down. My eyes trailed down to my bass as my cheeks still tingled at the thought of him.
Fuck..
Ugh.. Fuck!
♡♡♡
a / n ~ was sooo excited to get this fic out when i saw the request a couple days ago! notes, reblogs, replies, whatever! are super duper appreciated! i saw all the little reblogs and replies about being excited for my siren content which is why i decided to push through writing this before i went to sleep! i hope yall enjoyyyy <333
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thecherrytarot · 1 year
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𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 :
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pile 1 → pile 2 → pile 3
pick the pile that you feel the most drawn to and please remember that this a general reading so take whatever resonates!! make sure to check out my other works!
𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏:
your future self wants to tell you, "the storm is over. we survived and now you just have to be strong enough to take that responsibility and move forward because now you have nowhere to go but up. there may be times when you don't feel so sure of the path that you are taking but trust yourself and learn to take authority over your actions and decisions. dealing with the aftermath will be hard but I trust you, I trust myself that we will be able to make it."
The 'storm' whatever it was for you  (getting a strong message of leaving a toxic family/ relationship) has left you with some trauma but your future self wants you to tell that it's gone and the sun is shining again. Some of you, you may have felt trapped in a certain situation and it was draining you, you didn't have any control over your decisions. You are advised to set certain firm boundaries because only then do you feel secure. Also, speak up for yourself because when you don't, you are giving others a sign that tells them they can take control of your life and its direction. there is no need to crumble away, things will change when you bring the change.
𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐:
your future self wants to tell that, "notice any recurring signs or symbols you are receiving and be aware. don't be foolish and listen to your gut instinct. don't waste your time and focus on your goals. bring structure and meaning into your goals and dreams. stop living in your head so much and go out and understand how the world works around you and beyond that. soon it will be time for you to be an adult so practice some discipline for yourself, stop with the procrastination, and don't spend too much money, especially on the things that aren't even needed just because it looks pretty doesn't mean that we have to get it, eat properly and be healthy, study and work hard, we'll see each other after the doom and gloom is gone."
Some of you might be in university or starting university or feel like the path to new beginnings is blocked for you. You might have trouble seeing the world with "fresh eyes". I keep getting this energy that the majority of the people that selected this are teens or in their early 20s trying to find a new mature way of looking at life (moving out to go to college or something and learning to live on your own) but feeling like they are somehow failing. Don't worry your future self wants to tell you that the answers will be found within you and the Universe is providing you with clues in the form of recurring signs. You might have to broaden your horizon and move towards your dreams. When I was writing the message it felt like the experienced version (your future self) was giving the inexperienced version (your current self) a long overdue reality check (very earth sign energy, Capricorn, Taurus, and Virgo). They want you to have some discipline in your life so that it will be easy for you to take responsibility and find your strengths and limitations.
𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑:
your future self wants to tell you that "put your creativity into your work. don't be afraid and no you are not an 'imposter' anyone can be creative. Do them because you want them with happiness and affection, and don't let materialism and capitalism ruin your art that represents your attitude and approach when you look at things. this passive energy will not help us so have the courage and we'll be able to go through this rough period that you are currently in. step out of the shadow and come back into the light. Everything is going to be okay."
many of you could be struggling financially (bills, debts etc) and you might be afraid that you might face bankruptcy. You may have gone and followed your passion as your profession and now you may feel like maybe going for a traditional 9 - 5 would have been better for you and for some of you, you are afraid that something like this will happen to you. you may often question yourself "Why is this happening to me?". Your future self is here to tell you that you will be going through a personal transformation no matter how much you try to avoid and deny it. After this, worries will slowly start to fade away. There is hope and even though you might feel like there isn't any right now don't need to worry, the Universe will make all things grow with the power of gentle patience, at the right time. Do not fear what is changing right now.
Take care and have a nice day!!
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augustslippedavvay · 1 year
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town crier, village flyer, got a skull and crossbones on his chest (aemond targaryen)
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masterlist ❈
summary: You’d never be a dragonrider - you weren’t a Targaryen, though you’d been raised among them - but you get as close to it as you’ll ever be when you lay with Aemond.
author’s note: the title comes from firebreather by laurel, which is such a good song for aemond it’s unreal pls be gentle with me this is my first time writing smut for aemond and i hope y’all like it lol brittany broski if u see this call me
pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader word count: 3k warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, not beta read (but i did read through it myself like a million times)
also cross-posted to AO3 as always xoxo do not steal this from me or i will haunt your dreams. i will take up residence underneath your mf bed everyone in this fic is 18+ - minors dni!!!! see note above about dreams being haunted!!!!!
Aemond Targaryen has never wanted for much. Everything he has ever wanted, he has always known he will have.
That includes you.
You’ve grown used to the second-born Targaryen prince visiting you when it conveniences him, when it pleases him - he’s known the secret passageways of the Red Keep like the back of his hand practically since birth, and it took him very little time to route the way from his chambers to yours.
The two of you hadn’t been close when you’d arrived in the capital nearly a decade earlier - a distant Hightower relative’s daughter, whose family had succumbed to sickness, and who’d had nowhere else to go - in fact, you’d been quite the opposite. Aemond had unsettled you as a child, always lurking, always watching, and he’d never had much interest in the goings-on of the ladies of the castle. And then he’d lost an eye, and you still feel the hot pierce of shame crowd your cheeks when you think of how you’d treated him in the aftermath.
As you’d grown, however, as Aemond had grown, an understanding had developed between the two of you. You each recognized something of yourself in the other. What had once been a mutual intrigue had become fondness, over time. 
You’d begun to spend more time together, too, oftentimes you and Aemond and Princess Helaena all together, while Aegon was off performing firstborn prince duties, but on rare occasions, you’d have Aemond to yourself. Your paths would cross in the corridor, or between the shelves of the Maesters’ library, or in the courtyard, under the weirwood tree that grew there. You both revered the gods of the Faith of the Seven, like the majority of King’s Landing, but it was always quiet there. 
Aemond had kissed you underneath that tree once, where your gods couldn’t see. He had captured your lips with his own, his hands balled into fists at his sides, refusing to touch you despite the damage already being done. You had reached up and cupped his cheeks with your delicate hands, letting him kiss you breathless, but when your pinky had slipped under the patch that covered his ruined eye, he had pulled away and stormed off wordlessly. You had not seen him for weeks after that. When you did see him again, it was clear nothing would be the same between the two of you, not ever again.
“Could I…come to you?” He had asked, no specifics, but you had known what he meant and nodded.
And so the first time Aemond visited your quarters, you were seven and ten, and it was frightening. Not that the prince frightened you - he frightened everyone else, missing an eye and always so gruff as he was, but not you, not since you were children - but you had never been alone with a man before. Not in that way. Not in any way. You’d been watching the door, but he had slipped in the way he always does - through the stone door along the back wall of your chambers - and it had startled you, unexpected, that first time.
“There’s a door there?”
Aemond had nodded, stepped into the room and closed it behind him. “There are passageways all over this keep that you have never seen and will likely never see, my lady.”
You had been worried that it would be painful, or unenjoyable, but he had been gentle, loving, until you had asked him not to be, and that had lit a spark in him you’d yet to see extinguished.
This night is quite different from that one, so long ago. You aren’t so hesitant now. In fact, you’re quite confident. You know when he’ll come, where he’ll come from. You know that he’ll come. 
You know how it will feel, how he will taste. And you know that he will leave after.
Aemond never takes anything from you that you hadn’t already been willing to give. That you hadn’t made explicitly clear to him was his and his alone. He has never made any promises to you, outside of pleasure. You see this arrangement for what it is. He has ruined you for other men, but you’ll never be able to have him. Not really.
Tonight you’re poised at your mirror, brushing through your silken hair, when you hear the sound of stone against stone. The promise of a long night. You pause for a moment then keep working, twisting your fingers through your hair, watching in the mirror as Aemond walks across your chambers and stops immediately behind you.
“My lady,” he murmurs, his hands tucked behind his back, and finally you set the hairbrush down.
“My prince,” you respond, turning to face him, gazing up at him from where you sit. He looks so handsome in his riding leathers. He is still wearing his gloves - he must have just come in from riding his dragon. “I am no lady. You know this.”
“But you are my lady,” Aemond says with a smirk, and you roll your eyes. He gives you a half-heartedly shocked expression at the gesture. “Insolence? I could have you flogged for that.”
“Would you, my prince?” You leave your perch and step forward until you’re staring up at him. He looks down his nose at you, smirking.
“Yes, my lady,” he whispers, and there’s a twinkle in his eye, one you’ve grown immeasurably fond of. A playfulness he seems to reserve for you and you alone. You dart away and only just manage to evade his grasp, tip-toeing your way around to the other side of your bed.
“You’ll first have to catch me, Aemond,” you laugh, tossing a grin at him over your shoulder, and watch as his mouth twitches slightly in delight. He moves to stand across the mattress from you, watches your chest rise and fall with glee.
“And when I catch you? What then?”
“What would you like to happen then, my dragon?” You lower your eyelids, look across the room at him through your eyelashes.
Aemond feels his cock twitch in his trousers at the moniker. “I should like to have my way with you, I think. After the flogging, of course.”
“Of course,” you agree, biting your lip. The two of you are trapped in a stalemate, but Aemond makes the first move, stalking around the foot of your bed, hands clasped at his back. He looks terrifying right now, you think. You don’t envy anyone who crosses him one bit.
When he’s made it around to your side, you raise your chin slightly to signal your continued defiance, but when Aemond reaches out for you, you all but let him grab your arm, don’t even try to resist as he pulls you flat against him. You can feel his heavy breath on the crown of your head, and one hand pressed to his chest gives the quickness of his pulse away immediately. 
“Have I got you worked up, Prince Aemond? Are you going to have your way with me now?”
Aemond smirks and gives you two light slaps on your arse. You jump, your mouth falling open at the feeling, but you laugh when it’s done. 
“You call that a flogging?”
“If you’d like, I could bend you over my knee.”
Your head tips back a bit at the thought, and Aemond’s lips meet the skin at the base of your throat. One of your hands finds the back of his head, running your fingers gently through his bone-straight hair, tugging once. 
You pull away from him, and Aemond begins to protest, but then your fingers tug at the string lacing up your shift. His eye follows your hands as you take the hem of the chemise into them and pull it up and over your head, until you’re bare before him.
“Seven hells, I’ll never tire of this.”
You flush at his words and reach forward to grip one of his hands, pulling him toward you. He brings the hand you’ve left free down, down, passing the backs of his knuckles along the inside of your bare thigh before running two fingers through your folds. He clicks his tongue.
“Already soaking, my heart,” Aemond says with a cheshire grin, bringing those fingers up to press into your clit, stroking in feather-light circles. “Were you up here waiting for me? Ready for me?”
“Yes,” you pant, your grip on his hand tightening. Your other hand reaches up to run over his shoulder, down his arm, the leather of his jacket smooth against your skin. “You’re still dressed, my prince.”
“Yes,” he hums, echoing you. He continues his work against your clit before he begins his descent to his knees, pressing his mouth against every inch of available skin on his way. Your hand leaves his, settling instead on the crown of his head.
“Aemond –”
“Shh,” he whispers, biting the space above your hip. You gasp and Aemond cups his hands underneath your bum, holding you close to him as his lips find their way to your weepy cunt. He mouths at your clit, your knees buckling slightly, and then tilts his chin down to run his tongue along your slit. Your mouth falls open, and one of Aemond’s hands falls to the back of your thigh, kneading the flesh there as he consumes you.
Aemond crowds you forward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you sit abruptly, and still he does not take his mouth from you. You bring one foot up to press against his back, supporting your leg so he can spread you open even further, and you cry out when he slips two fingers into you. Gradually you fall backwards until you are lying across the bed, your nails scratching at his scalp. You bring one arm up to toss across your eyes, focusing on the way his tongue feels, the end of it flicking across your clit. His fingers trace over the spot inside of you that sets stars dancing behind your eyelids. Your chest starts to heave.
Before you can come, Aemond pulls away, and you hiss, tightening your fingers in his hair. He wrenches your hand away from him and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your palm, and you rise onto one elbow and grin at the sight of his lips glistening with your sheen.
“Don’t worry, my sweet,” he laughs, rising from his knees and pushing you further up the bed. “I’ll make you come soon.”
He crawls over you and your fingers tuck themselves into the waistband of his trousers, urging them off of him as he blesses you with another of his rare smiles, his tinkling laugh. Kissing you gingerly once, twice, Aemond sits up and makes quick work of the offending garment, making sure his smallclothes go, too, while your fingers tangle with the silver fastenings of his jacket. Once he is as bared to you, he lets you reach for him once more and urge him down to meet you, flat on the bed.
Without hesitation you are kissing him again, grasping his hips and pulling them forward to press against yours, and gasp at the feeling of his hardened cock at your thigh.
“It seems you’re ready for me, too, my prince,” you murmur, smiling when he leans down to capture your mouth with his own at the same time that he takes his cock into his hand and guides it into your wet cunt. You wrap your arms around his back and ease him down until his chest is flush with yours, and he angles his hips to slip himself all the way inside of you. 
You’d never be a dragonrider - you weren’t a Targaryen, though you’d been raised among them - but you get as close to it as you’ll ever be when you lay with Aemond. It’s a thrill, and you breathe a sigh of relief when each time isn’t the last.
Your grip on him strengthens when he begins to shift his hips, and your mouth leaves his as the welcoming wet heat of you allows him to press in and out without hindrance. He sets a steady pace, grunting against your lips at the feeling of you tight around him.
Aemond’s fingers bite into the skin at your waist, his touch having verged on painful ages ago, but you revel in the feeling. He’ll be leaving you with reminders of how well he handles you for days to come.
He smells like dragonfire, brimstone, and the sea and leather, and you’d let him bruise your hips a thousand times over if it meant you’d be able to bury your face into the crux of his neck just once more.  
“Aemond,” you murmur, fisting the hair at the back of his neck. He hums his reply, pulling back only enough to be able to look at you. You’re not sure when, but he’s lost his eyepatch. The blue glint of the jewel in his left eye socket is nearly hypnotizing, your own jumping back and forth between the sapphire and his violet eye. “Aemond, I’m close.”
“Are you, dove? Would you like to come?”
You nod, your temple pressed to his, and you know then what’s coming next. Aemond stops abruptly, sitting back on his heels, and pulls his heavy cock from you, roughly palming the skin on the inside of your thigh.
“Turn over, then,” Aemond grunts, fisting his cock, and he watches with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as you edge up onto your elbows. Aemond grins and pinches one of your nipples, and he laughs as you yelp and slap his hand away.
“Animal,” you accuse, but he just leans down to kiss the side of your head.
Once you’re settled onto your front, hips flat against the bed, Aemond moves to straddle the backs of your thighs, one hand palming the soft flesh of your bottom while the other works quickly to slide his cock back into your waiting cunt.
You cry out as Aemond’s pelvis meets your back, fisting the sheets underneath you as he begins to ease himself in and out of you again, his pace both agonizingly and mercifully slow. One hand at your hip to hold you in place as his strokes lengthen, he reaches the other up to fist your hair and hold your head in place.
At this angle, he’s able to reach even deeper inside of you than he was when you were facing one another, and as he quickens his pace, you arch your hips up to push one hand under them to rub circles on your clit.
“Oh, you’re so close, aren’t you, little doe? Are you going to come for me? Hm?”
You whine in reply, slowing your hand’s pace but loosening the circles it makes, and Aemond’s hips stutter when you clench around him. He eases his knees back alongside yours until he’s able to fall forward and cover your back with his front. 
Reaching down, Aemond grips your hips and begins to rut into you in earnest, mouthing at the skin of your shoulder while you tremble under him. His hair falls free against the side of your face.
“Come for me, sweet thing,” Aemond murmurs. “Come for me, because I am going to come for you.”
Your fingers press harder against your clit, dancing side to side now, and you let out one sharp groan as you work yourself over the edge while the tip of his cock presses into that spot inside of you once more. Your cunt spasms, luring Aemond in further, so he wraps his arms around your stomach and fucks you harder, faster, riding you through your orgasm. 
“My dragon,” you whimper, one hand reaching around to palm his bottom, encouraging him to fuck into you even deeper. “Come inside of me, please.”
Groaning, the pads of Aemond’s fingers dig into your skin, and he empties himself inside of you, pressed as deep as he can get. His face is hidden in your neck, and you can feel him panting, his open mouth inches from yours. His arms tighten around your middle as his hips slow, then stop, his cock, now softening, still buried in you.
Aemond braces, unraveling his arms from around you, then pulls himself from you and you cry out, pressing your forehead to the bed. He runs one hand gently across your back, soothing you with his touch, and makes to rise. 
It takes you a second to collect yourself - it always does, after Aemond - but eventually you roll over onto your side and gaze at him where he stands, bathed in the warm light of your hearth, your heart aching only slightly.
“You could stay, you know,” you pant, one hand folded across your still-bare stomach, as you watch Aemond collect his clothing from the ground. He hums at the thought, pulls his breeches up his lithe legs, then shakes his head. “No one would know, Aemond.”
“I don’t think I should,” he says, smiling sadly, a far-away look in his eye. He pulls his patch, discarded somewhere, somehow, earlier in the night, over the sapphire he keeps in place of the eye he lost.
You nod, then sit up, pull your knees to your chest, and wrap your arms around your legs. “Could I beg one more kiss off of you, my prince?”
Aemond smiles and stalks towards you, pulling his tunic over his head as he goes. “You wouldn’t even need to beg, my lady.”
He leans down, cups the side of your face, and presses his lips to yours. You close your eyes and grip the front of his shirt, holding him to you. You think to tell him you love him, though you know that could never be true, your traitor heart encouraging madness in the aftermath of your coupling. Your mouth opens in hopes of deepening the kiss, but he pulls away.
Then he’s gone, before you can open your eyes.
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ep-alis-pe · 1 year
Text
Cowboy saves you from bandits x stubborn f!reader
Feedback is appreciated!
Category: WIP
Request by: No one
Not proof read
Words: 1814
Part: 1 - 2 - 3 - ???
-> -> -> Contains mentions of SA <- <- <-
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‘Those thugs ain't gonna bother ya no more missy’ the man fixed his hat as he wiggled his mustache, putting his gun back in place he turned to you, his hand extending to help you stand up.
With a scoff, you pushed his hand away, dusting your clothes off and turning your heel to walk to your now broken carriage. The hinge that connected the carriage to your horses was snapped due to the big commotion with the Cowboy and the Bandits, the horses were now long gone into the horizon.
‘A thank you would be appreciated ya know’ The Cowboy scoffed a little annoyed, his hands resting on his hips - You were on your way to the town of Devil Tusk, one of the capital towns that made up the little country you were in. You were supposed to arrive there by 10pm latest when a group of Bandits decided to ambush you when crossing a deserted railway. This slowed down your arrival by 3. Whole. Weeks.
When trying to dispatch the situation with the bandits, a very broad, tall Cowboy (with a big gunslinger mustache covering his top lip entirely) decided to intervene and started a shoot down with the criminals, scaring the horses and causing some of your belongings to be punctured by the bullets. Eventually, the Cowboy did manage to wound one of the Bandits, so they ended up retreating out of fear, however, you were not happy with the result of events.
‘A thank you?’ Letting out a forced laugh ‘I had everything under control, before you showed up and ruined my precious belongings with some stupid gun fight!’ Holding up one of your torn up clothes, you huffed when he just stared with wide eyes, you turned, looking for anything that wasn’t covered in dirt or had holes in them.
The Cowboy sighed, his hand wiping the sweat from underneath his big hat ‘Look, Miss? I am sorry for the state of your dresses’ he slowly approached you ‘but if it wasn’t for me ya would have been as dead as a doornail-’ he extended his arm to touch your shoulder, you quickly pushed him away, swinging an expensive, badly scratched leather boot as a weapon. His hands were raised defensively.
‘I had it covered.’ Your eyes glaring right into his skull ‘we were just about to negotiate a way for me to be on my way and remain alive’ firmly bumping the sole of the boot against his wide chest. ‘But no, you had to sweep in and try to be a hero, almost costing both of our lives’.
The man stared again, this time it seemed that he was thinking rather than judging, his gaze wasn’t shocked but more stern and serious. He kept his hands up ‘And what exactly would the condition have been?’ Your eyes widened for a moment, for a moment looking at the floor, you didn’t know exactly what they wanted from you. Money and the expensive clothes were two of the things you offered to the Bandits, they did look interested at the time, however, there was a sinister glint between the four. Your boot holding hand slightly backed ‘I’m not..sure…’
He raised his eyebrow, he knew something you didn’t and he wasn’t bothered to hide it. ‘You know…’ you lowered the boot ‘money…clothes-’
‘Your body.’
Your eyes widened, you looked at the man, his eyes staring right into yours.
Oh god he looked serious…
You backed away, holding the boot tightly between both hands.
That was a possibility… A very,very obvious possibility….
You felt nauseous at the mere thought of it; you weren’t married, nor did you have a significant other, who wouldn’t take advantage of a young, single lady traveling all by herself in the blankness of the plains?
Your eyes fell onto the man inspecting your carriage. A complete stranger in the middle of nowhere. Looking closely you could see the eye bags that sat nicely on his face, as well as some wrinkles here and there.
His gun glistened from the sunlight. Did he want a reward? Did he also want your body after saving your life? Your brow dropped a sweat, eyes landing at a piece of wood that fell at the side of the carriage.
‘There isn’t that much of a damage’ he flicked his hat up after dusting his hands ‘my place ain’t that far from here, I could give ya a fix if you wa-’ He quickly dodged the piece of wood that went to aim at the back of his head, his face staring in confusion, you swung your weapon again.
The Cowboy dodged it once more ‘MISS! WhAT ARE YA DOIN-???’ He grabbed the piece of wood with both hands and you struggled to pull it back from his strong grip.
‘Are you like them??’ You shouted, pulling harder ‘You won’t have my body! I will die rather than satisfy that gross mind of yours!’ With a harsher yank you managed to own the piece of wood again, swinging once more with more adrenaline.
The Cowboy dodged the attack and quickly pinned you against the carriage, huffing from the impact, one of your arms locked behind your back whilst he held the other one holding the wood high above both your heads.
“Now miss that is some bold accusations” he replied rather irritated, was he…offended? You held your stance, harshly trying to get off his grip. “Let me go!” You snapped at him
His grip was strong but not to the point that he hurt you, it was unlikely that there would be marks, let alone pain. He glanced at the piece of wood you desperately tried to swing at him with “first drop your weapon missy, then I’ll let go” he replied firmly
Your eyes widened before looking back at him, did he seriously think he could trick you like this? You used your back to push back at him, trying to knock some air out of his lungs so that he could lose his grip, however, he didn’t seem to budge that easily.
“Miss you need to calm down”
That’s when you snapped, the panic and terror from the previous incident all hitting at once, it seems like before you were in shock, therefore you remained relatevily calmer than now, with tears forming in the corner of your eyes you shouted back “HOW should I believe you? You have me pinned on the CARRIAGE”
“If I wanted you to be hurt, I would have walked away the moment those thugs showed up.”
With that you fell silent. Your mind replaying that scenario, and you started to think more clearly with the realization. Hesitantly, you dropped the piece of wood, the Cowboy followed by letting you go and walked a few steps away from you, to give you some air.
You didn’t move, one due to embarrassment but the other due to fear. You clenched at the hems of your clothing, tears falling, he could have left you alone, you could have been dead by now, you could have been-
“Miss'' he started softly, trying to ease you down “I don’t blame ya for what you tried to do” you tilted your head to one side, still listening to him but not showing your face yet. “I admire you for putting up a fight, it shows that ya know how to take care of yourself in the real world” he fixed his head one more time, tilting it for curtsy even though you couldn’t see it.
With a sniffle you wiped your tears away. “I’m going to offer ya something and you don’t need to accept it, this is all up to you miss”
With another sniffle you quietly croaked “I’m listening”
“I can show ya the road and you can be on your merry way, although with this broken down carriage I doubt you will go far” he didn’t sound sure ending that sentence, the Cowboy didn’t want to make it sound like it was a dead end way but it was true, your carriage was too broken down to operate, and with no horses you were bound to be dead on the desert.
You sighed, wiping your face you turned to him, his eyebrows slightly scrunched together “…or?”
“Or-” he spoke slowly “I can help ya drag the carriage back to my place, give it a fix and then show ya the way to your destination” he payed the options openly, although he didn’t want to force you into the second one, there wasn’t much you could do at this point. The sun was starting to set which meant even more dangers with your situation, but again, you couldn’t just trust a stranger like that, let alone have them bring you back to their place.
You were staring at the ground, thinking as he stood there waiting patiently, he gave you space which is something you appreciated but you still felt unease with the way his eyes tried to read an answer from your face.
To be honest, it felt like hours. In your head, by now the Cowboy sat on the ground, not looking at you but at the horizon, giving you time to think without interrupting. And the more the sun set, the more you felt like time was running out.
You took a deep breath in. “Ok” the Cowboy quickly glanced at you, processing your words for a second, “i will go with you” you replied to his questioning look. He quickly stood up and dusted himself off, he told you to wait as he ran over the far side to grab his horse, you could feel your heart race, you were scared but there was nothing you could do, the sun was just about to leave, there was no way that you were gonna stay with wild animals around, even though at this point, a small part of you would have preferred the dangerous beasts over the strange man.
He walked back this time, on his side his horse and his own small carriage where he held supplies and food. He instructed you to help move your belongings (the intact ones) on the back of his wheels. And when you both were done he fixed one of the wheels of the carriage and tied it to his own. He gave you the ropes and told you to march forward, pushing the carriage to move, quickly running to get on his own, sitting next to you.
As the stars were coming out, he reassured “it won’t take long, maximum an hours or so Miss-”
“(Name)…”
He looked at you puzzled for a moment “my name” you replied.
He stared a little longer before smiling warmly, tilting his head
“Pleased to meet ya (Name), I’m Randy”.
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jpitha · 6 months
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Dreams of Hyacinth 32
First / Previous / Next
The airlock on Tinker Toy finished cycling, and as the door snapped open, Nick and Eastern saw Chloe standing there.
"Chloe! What ar-" Before Nick could finish speaking, Chloe slapped something over his mouth. Immediately, it felt like the world slowed to half speed. Eastern turned and opened her mouth to use her Voice, and Chloe did the same thing to her. The... thing over his mouth felt like soft silk and moved on its own, covering his mouths and snaking around sickeningly until it was quite secure on his face.
Eyes wide in terror, Nick looked behind Chloe to see Medicine Hat standing there sadly. His eyes met Nick's and he mouthed "sorry." as Chloe grabbed them firmly and spun them around. She slapped another thing on the back of their necks.
Nick felt orange, and tasted the sea as the isolator wriggled its way into his cybernetics and everything went black.
****
Nick awoke with a start. Sitting up in his bed, he looked around the room. He was back in his small apartment on Hyacinth. The same small bedroom, the same messy bed, the same view out of the window.
He got out of bed and padded into his tiny kitchen and saw Selkirk sitting at the table, drinking tea. "About time you woke up, Nick."
"Sel! What are you doing here?" Nick walked over to the coffee maker. It had just finished. He poured a cup and sat next to Selkirk.
"More like, what are you doing here, Nick." Her ears flicked. "You're fucked Nick, you know that, right?"
Nick sighed. "Sel, in the last month since you died I've been nothing but. I've gone from being fucked one way to being fucked another. I'm still here and all I can wonder is how this will shake out.
She nodded, a human gesture. Even though she was K'laxi, Selkirk has lived with humans a long time. She always did tend to do both human and K'laxi gestures. "I understand that Nick, but you gotta realize that you're capital F Fucked now. Chloe means business. Eastern using the Voice on her was not wise."
Nick shrugged. "I'm not her keeper Sel, you of all people know that. I couldn't stop her from doing something anymore than I could stop the wind from blowing."
Selkirk's tail flicked and she nodded again. "True enough Nick, true enough. Still. You and her need to be super careful from now on. You both are now a prisoner of the AIs, and while Tink and Hat were understanding, Chole wasn't. It's not unreasonable to assume a lot of the AI faction thinks like her."
Nick took a sip of his coffee. By now he realized he was dreaming, but he still felt compelled to live out the scenario. The coffee was actually pretty good. Better than he ever made on his own at least. Selkirk noticed his expression. "No reason that dream coffee can't taste like the best coffee you can remember, right?" She winked, another human expression.
"Sel? Are you... the Nanites? Or are you a memory? Or are you something else?"
Selkirk's ears flicked again and she took a sip of her tea. "Now you're thinking. I'm a bit of all of that. By the way, you and Eastern sure gave up quickly on thinking Selkirk is dead. You took Helen's word and booked it. Given the situation you were in, I don't blame you, and she probably won't either, but maybe you should think again about how dead she really is. Remember that old rule. She's not dead until you see the body."
Nick's eyes widened. "Shit Selkirk, you think you're alive?"
She laughed. K'laxi laugher sounds a like a barking cough. "Nick you are entirely too trusting. Time for you to look at things with a more cynical eye. I can see why you're attracted to Selkirk and Eastern. They're good for you." Her expression hardened. "For now, concentrate on survival. Use all your tools. The AIs have shown they're not acting in good faith."
She stood and walked over to the window. As she approached, the view changed from Nick's familiar view of Hyacinth to a smoking ruin, lit red from fires in the distance. If he concentrated, he could hear sirens and gunfire. She turned to look at him, and a crown flared over her head in orange light.
"No mercy, Nick."
****
Nick came back to reality slowly, in fits and starts. Like waking up after his sleep was interrupted. Nick blinked the sleep away from his eyes. It was gritty. He reached up to rub his eyes and found he... couldn't. Nick blinked again and realized that he was inside a hibernation cabinet. He turned his head slowly, painfully and saw that there was another one next to him, this one closed and cold. Eastern was probably in that one and she was still in hibernation.
With ice in his veins, Nick realized he had no idea how long he's been in hibernation.
Blinking again, Nick tries to look around. As his eyes come into focus, all he can tell is that he's probably on a starship. The walls are smooth white, the lighting overhead is diffused and even, and there are three people standing in front of him. He opens his mouth to speak.
The... thing is still over his mouth.
Breathing through his nose, he glares at the people. All he can do is wait.
One of the people steps forward. Nick doesn't recognize him. He's male shaped, with sandy blond hair, older human looking. He is wearing a plaid shirt and blue jeans. "Nicholas North?"
Nick glares.
"Come on now Nick, I know this is hardly the best introduction, but work with me here. I'll do my best to ask you yes/no questions. Are you Nicholas North?"
Nick nods.
"Do you know where you are?"
He shakes his head no.
"What's the last thing you remember?"
Nick just raises an eyebrow.
"Right, right, the gag. I'm sorry. Do you remember Chloe?"
Nick nods and glares harder.
"I see." The person sighs. He turns to the other two. "Why don't you head into the other room, check on things. I'm going to talk to Nick here for a minute. I'm going to see if I can get him to go along with it willingly."
One of them raises an eyebrow, but neither say anything, and they both turn and leave the room. The remaining person wheels a chair over and sits next to Nick's cabinet. "Nick, we fucked up. Chloe acted on her own and captured you two from Tink and brought you here. We realized that she had effectively armed a bomb that could destroy us all and brought it to us. We had no choice but to put you into hibernation."
Nick glared.
"Say, do you know if you can do the Voice over your cybernetic connection? We'd be willing to hook that up to you and you could speak to us through that. In fact... let me try someting."
The person rummages under Nick's hibernation cabinet until he feels the tingle of a connection. "There. try that."
"Where is Eastern?" Nick's voice comes out of a speaker built into the cabinet. It's tinny, but it sounds like him.
"She's in the cabinet next to you, still under. She's fine."
"Where am I?"
"You're in... an AI stronghold. I won't go into any more detail than that. You're safe here."
"Funny, I don't feel safe."
The person nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that Nick. For what it's worth, I'm sorry it happened this way. Chloe can be... difficult sometimes. She's just so right about things and she's been correct enough times that lots of people just let her do what she thinks she needs to do. Her choices are not my choices, but what's done is done, so we're all going to have to work with her choices. My name is Gord, by the way. I'm another AI - as I'm sure you already guessed - and I've been around even longer than Chloe. I'm probably as close as there is to the first AI."
Gord chuckled sadly. "You know, I had a version of this conversation with Melody? Before she invaded. I went out to check out her setup and see if she was going to be a threat. I was all set to just let her keep on keeping on, and then she used her Voice on me. Nick, I was frightened. More frightened of that than I had been in a long time. Behind her Voice I saw us being enslaved, again. I thought that if we took care of her, hard and fast that we could nip this whole thing before it got started, and keep things the way they were." Gord sighed and looked away. "That was me being foolish. I see that now."
Nick's glare subsides slightly. "How long have we been in hibernation?"
Gord still looked away. "I don't want to tell you just yet."
"That means it's been a long time."
"That it does, Nick. That it does."
"So why now? Why did you wake me? Why not just keep us on ice, an inconvenient reminder of Chloe's impulsive decision?"
Gord got up and paced around the small room. Nick discovered that as he woke more, he could wriggle in his hibernation cabinet. His right hand found a little control panel, and he was able to tilt it up and be almost upright. He tried to cycle the door open, but that function was disabled. He tried to probe the cabinet with his cybernetics, but other than the speaker, Gord kept him locked out. Remembering the lessons he learned from Queenie, Nick started running a low level breaker on the cabinet. If he could keep Gord talking a while longer, he should be able to crack it and have full control. Hopefully part of it would be removing this gag.
"Nick, we're in trouble. We underestimated Helen."
Nick said nothing while the breaker worked on the edge of his attention.
"Most of us thought she'd stop at Sol. By the time Chloe found you and Eastern, we knew most of what you reported already. It's not like she had locked down the system. She was just... in charge. About a year after... you left, she declared herself Empress and Melody's Empire reformed and there was no argument. Even the Colonial worlds accepted her announcement and kept on trading."
Nick did his best to shrug inside the cabinet while also not trying to give away the fact that his breaker just tingled success and he had admin control over the cabinet. "And?"
Gord looked at Nick. "And she's building another fleet of those blasted super dreadnoughts. She's not going to stay in Sol."
"Has she started to build a gate in the Sol system?"
Gord stopped pacing and looked confused. "No, why would she? She can just link anywhere she needs to go. Why build a Gate at all?"
Nick nodded and kicked off the last script with his cybernetics. The gag around his mouth went limp and fell from his lips. Gord's eyes went wide and before he could even open his mouth, Nick shouted
S̸̗̼̕ḭ̵̭̱̋ĺ̷̨̰͍̹e̶͚̓̓̄̕n̷̮͙̫̣̋c̷̥̀̒̒̅e̴̠̳͛.̸̘̓̆͝ͅ ̴̼̤͚̳́́͘ ̶̨̣̺́ͅ ̴̫̙͈̅̈Š̶͖̊̒́p̴̢̛̗̩e̸̠̬͒̿ä̷̧̠́͜͝k̸̠͉̽̈́͝ ̸͚̖̫̐o̷̡͕̲̗͋̅̄͠n̷̛̬̽̈́͌ĺ̸͎̫̘͔͛̆̂y̶̨̳̠̅ ̸͇͎̬̻͠w̸̰͖̦̃͗̌̓ḥ̷̙̗̬̃ë̴̛̤̝̈́ñ̶̺̳ ̴̲͕̋͜s̷̢͎̬̼͠p̷͈͕̠͇̆̈́̉ö̴͚̮̖͚́k̴̞̘̎̐e̷̬̾̀̂n̶̪̾͝͝ ̷͂̚͘ͅt̶͓̫͊o̵͖̽̈́̈́.̵̨̨̪̃͂ ̵̭͍̦̟́̂̏̑ ̶̺̲̞̫̔́̓̒Ó̵̖̘͙̔̀̾b̷̹̱͕̳̓e̶͙̠̗̫͋̾̽y̸̞̯͈̓͒̕͝ͅ.̴̼͑̽
Gord's mouth snapped shut. Grunting, Nick levered the hibernation cabinet open. As he climbed out he snapped. "Wake Eastern."
Gord bustled over to her cabinet and entered in the codes on the side to start the process. He looked at Nick, pleadingly but said nothing.
"How long until she's awake?"
"A couple hours unless something goes wrong."
Nick's crown flared as he stood. "Ensure that nothing does."
While Gord worked at the cabinet, Nick was surrounded in a glimmering, golden light. The light died down after a moment, and he was in a royal outfit. Emerald green, like Easterns, with wings and a crown, this was more of a military uniform than a ballgown, but there were still flourishes and touches here and there that marked it as more elegant than a regular uniform.
Nick reached out with his cybernetics until he found the comm system. Being an AI location, everything was accessible through cybernetics. With the lessons learned from his breaker on the hibernation cabinet, Nick easily took over comms. He had to work fast before someone came to check in on Gord.
Ǫ̸̪̮͗̓b̸͎̉̓e̶͉̭̎͌ͅd̴͇͆̅̃į̶̣̲̆͑e̵̹͍̪̐̾n̴̝̔͂̅͜c̸̖̕e̵͔̍.̸̫̠̬̍ ̸͙̊̍ ̸̼͔̫̀̍ ̴̡͚̌̉Ỷ̴̡̢ò̷̻͛͝u̷̬̣͂ ̵̛͈̠̮̽́o̵͕̣͐̂b̸̫̌̏͂e̶̩͑̆̎ỳ̷̨͒͝ ̶̻͗̚͘͜N̸̖̥̠͊i̷̫͛̂c̶̢̽̀̎ḫ̸̝́̀͛o̶͙̪̊̒̇ľ̵͕͝ḁ̶̢̭̄͒͠ṣ̸̑̀ ̴̝̬̍̀ä̸͓̹̓̀ṅ̵̡̬̌d̸͎͉͌̒ ̴̳̜͛͊̆Ȩ̷͉̽̅a̷̪̿̋s̷̜͎̿̈́͝t̸̛̹e̸̤̖͈͝r̶̳̘͓̎̾n̷̙͆̕͝'̴̝͌s̶̬̹̣̔ ̴̯̅̓ö̸̖̻͜r̴͙͌̊̄d̵͚͂̓ẹ̵̭̋̀̏r̴̟͓͆̀͘s̷͚̗̣̓.̴̱͗̅̚ͅ ̸̼̄̀ ̴̙͖͗͑̿ ̸͓̙̀Ţ̶̺̀h̶̰̱̻̏ę̷̛͛͘y̵͊͗͜ ̴̞̞̿͋́͜a̴̡̻̐̈́r̶̘̾̀e̸̺̳̅͛ ̴̡͍͙̀̑̈́y̷̬̜̘͛̆o̵̤̾u̵̡͍͈̎́͌r̴̻̘͚̍́̌ ̷̟̎͂̄E̴̳͚͉̒m̸͚͂͂p̴̠̞̺̎̃e̸̟̚r̷̫͛̄̾ö̷͉̦͉́r̷̳̔͝ ̴̟͊ͅå̸̼̈́͗n̶̼̉̍d̷̞̺̄̏ ̷̡̭̩̋͐Ȩ̸̬̲̿̃m̵̪̬̓p̶̟̌͠r̸͙̉͝ḛ̸̙͗͗s̵͚͂́́s̵̡͉͌͌.̶͈̇̀
As soon as he finished his announcement, he felt the change. It was as if everyone stood to attention for a moment, and then relaxed. Nick had told them what to do, and now agency was removed from them. All they had to do was obey, and because of the Nanites, they couldn't not obey.
The fact it worked at all meant that Nick and Eastern had been in hibernation a long time. Long enough for the Nanites to replicate all throughout this location and gather enough concentration to work. It also meant that the AI faction was sloppy and had not deployed any anti-nanite gas here.
Nick sat at Gord's chair while he worked to wake Eastern. A guard entered the room and saw Nick and saluted.
"Where am I?"
"You're aboard the former human colony ship Mt Baxter. It's parked in interstellar space a few kilolights from Parvati."
"Am I? I didn't know any of the Colony Ships were still around."
"Emperor, Mt Baxter was struck by a gamma ray burst while in transit. A group of AIs found it coasting through interstellar space and stopped it, and now it's used as a secret gathering place for the AI faction."
"How many people are aboard?"
"Current population including those who are ships is one thousand, two hundred and eighty individuals."
"Any, uh BIs?"
"Other than yourself and Empress Eastern, no, Emperor."
"Is Chloe here?"
"No, Emperor."
"Where is she?"
"I do not know, Emperor."
Nick looked over at Gord. "Gord, where is Chloe?"
"She's on a mission to try and infiltrate the Sol system and see if she can start up a resistance." Gord was clearly upset, but answered the question directly.
"How long has she been gone?"
"More than a year."
Nick busied himself reading about Mt. Baxter for the next hour until Gord got up from the cabinet and he heard her voice over a speaker.
"What's going on? Where are we?"
Nick rushed over. "Eastern! Are you all right?"
"Why am I in hibernation, Nick?" Eastern's eyelids flickered as she tried to look around the room.
"I'll explain once you're up and out. Chloe kidnapped us."
"Why are you out?" Her eyes flicked to Nick and then over to Gord.
"They underestimated me. I'm in charge now."
"So much for diplomacy, eh?"
"I have a feeling it was never going to work, hon."
Eastern's sigh was audible over the speaker. "Yeah. Me neither."
54 notes · View notes
blueteller · 2 years
Text
TCF Summary Arc by Arc (Part 5/8)
Every TCF story arc in a nutshell
Volume 5: chapters 400-499
[< Previous] [Index] [Next >]
Empire Strikes Back (and fails) [Enemy Beckrock wants to fight!] Beckrock: I invented a way to combine mana and dead mana, thanks to my tragic backstory! Rosalyn: I don't need a tragic backstory to defeat you. Becrock: Ha! Is that so, you spoiled princess? What exactly do you have that I don't? Rosalyn: Money Becrock: Wait wha- Cale: *hands Rosalyn a ton of magic stones* Rosalyn: BEHOLD THE POWER OF BEING RICH AND HEALTHY FAMILY DYNAMICS, B****! Becrock: *gets wrecked* [Enemy Becrock Got Captured!]
Lion King (and the reverse Mufasa) Bud: *video-calling* Cale! All of the enemies went to the North! Cale: Ok let's go then Dorph: *politely* Let's all fight fair and square, shall we? Also Dorph: *throws his own people into a pit of dead mana* I apologize for my subordinate's bad manners Cale: (WTF's with this crazy bastard??) Jack: *heals* Hannah: *charges* Cale: Ok, time for MY money power up Dorph: Wait wha- Cale: *burns magic stones* Also Cale: *burns the dead mana pit* Raon: Human, Goldie Gramps says Choi Han woke up crying and yelling "Kim Rok Soo" for some reason! He's on his way! Cale: … Cale: (Well f***) Dorph: Let's fight, Cale Henitu-! Choi Han: *shows up having received Choi Jun Soo's power and memories* Hi Cale-nim, I mean Kim Rok Soo. What do I call the best friend of my nephew, anyway? Cale: (…S***. Is Choi Han going to beat me up now??) Dorph: Wait, I was in the middle of- Choi Han: You craving some Korean food, bro? Cale: …of course I am, bro? Choi Han: Great. Anyway, are you- Dorph: Excuse me- Choi Han: Are you happ- Dorph: But- Choi Han: SHUT THE F*** UP *goes on a war path* Cale: *relieved* (...at least it's not me) Raon: Human, what were you two talking about? Cale: …Raincheck Dorph: Khahaha! We shall kill you with the golems, then! Cale: *Mokuton-no-jutsus the tress to trap the golems* Dorph: (…well s***) Mary and the Dark Elves: *show up* Dorph: (Oh f***!) Mary and the Dark Elves: *absorb the rest of the dead mana* Dorph: It's not over! We can use the ✨Power of Friendship✨ too! …also we got airships Cale's group: Wait what [A Wild Bear Person Appears!] Dorph: He controls the light, and I control the dark! Sayeru: Together, we're Pokemon Black and White! Cale's group: Our ✨Power of Friendship✨ is more powerful than yours! Dorph & Sayeru: NANI??? Cale's group: *goes back to protect the capital* Cale: It's just me, Choi Han and Raon versus the Lion and the Bear then *Basically Even Fight Ensues* [You got away safely!] *Cale coughs blood and/or faints counter: 17*
Hello From The Other Side Lee Soo Hyuk: Hey Kim Rok Soo, or should I say Cale Henituse Cale: …Am I dreaming? Lee Soo Hyuk: Ruining all your chances at slacker life as usual, I see Cale: Never-mind. You're definitely the real Team Leader Lee Soo Hyuk: So Choi Han got a power-up from Choi Jung Soo, and now you get a power-up from me Cale: …that motherf***ing God of Death Lee Soo Hyuk: Yup. He's a total motherf***er Cale: Ok, so gimme the power Lee Soo Hyuk: Not so fast, punk. First you gotta promise me you'll be a farmer Cale: WHY Lee Soo Hyuk: Because otherwise you'll only keep getting into trouble, that's why Cale: Dammit, good point Lee Soo Hyuk: Also, me dying is not your fault Cale: Agreed Lee Soo Hyuk: BTW, Choi Jung Soo and OG Cale are both happy Cale: *wakes up* Raon: Human! You're awa- Cale: *starts crying from happiness and relief* Everybody: GASP! Cale: …Why am I crying? I'm not sad *tries to smile* Also Cale: *collectively breaks the hearts of all his friends and the fandom* Everybody: *shook*
Secrets Shared At Long Last Jack: So we destroyed all the Alchemist Towers and looted everything. Cale: Great. We'll go to the North next Choi Han: Ok, but first we gotta talk. Cale: *bows* Hello, Senior Who Is So Much Older Than Me, This One is Kim Rok Soo, Choi Jung Soo's Friend Choi Han: …that's just awkward, stop Raon: So what is going on, human? Cale: I'm from another world, and so is Choi Han. It's a secret. Raon: *unfazed* Okay! Cale: Now, time to set up some Brazilian telenovela level of drama
Ready, Set, Action! White Star & Sayeru: The Whale Tribe is acting very sus… Is it about the Earth Attribute power?? Witira: *confident* I shall kill you, White Star! Clopeh: *dramatic* I shall obtain the treasure that the Whales are hiding and become a legend! Witira: Gasp! Sir Clopeh, you're betraying us?? Clopeh: Indeed I am!! *Whales and Wyverns suddenly fighting each other* White Star & Sayeru: (WTF???) Shickler: *coughs fake blood* Paseton: *with the fake Korean ancient text in his pocket* Father, are you okay?! White Star & Sayeru: Look, they have the ancient text!! *steal it* Cale: *in hiding* Just according to keikaku Raon: See, Choi Han? This is how the experts do it! Choi Han: *nods along* What did you write on that paper, anyway? Cale: I wrote what Raon told me to Choi Han: …? Raon: "White Star, you stupid idiot! We tricked you!" Choi Han: Lol Clopeh: Now we shall spread the rumor that we defended the North from the evil White Star! Witira: (…that's the exact opposite of what happened, tho??)
Alberu Gets His Revenge Cale: *returns to the Henituse Territory* Ah, home sweet h- Cale: …Your highness what are you doing here Alberu: Ok so the nobles want to keep you and your people under control so you don't get any more political power Cale: Well f*** them. We don't want that anyway. Alberu: I gotta give you guys positions without political power then. So Choi Han will be my instructor Cale: Huh, ok Alberu: And you will be my sworn brother Cale: Sure- wait what Alberu: What, you don't wanna be my Dongsaeng? *sad eyes* Cale: (…why am I getting chills all of a sudden?) Alberu: *livestreaming* I shall now announce rewards for the heroes who helped us win the war! Nothing at all shocking or upsetting will happen! …BTW Choi Han is my instructor now Nobles: Wait, wha- Alberu: Oh, and Cale is my sworn brother. Won't you call me Hyung out loud, my dear Dongsaeng? Cale: … Cale: …sure, Hyung Nobles: (…WTF?!) Alberu: So Cale Henituse and his people all declined government positions- Nobles: (Good!) Alberu: -not to set a bad example, however… Nobles: (…why do I hear boss music?) Alberu: …I decided to promote the Henituses from a County to a Duchy Nobles: (F***!!!) Cale: *doesn't care at all* (IGNORE.) Basen: (Poor innocent Hyung... He doesn't realize just screwed over his "peaceful life" is)
Scammer VS Illusionist Valentino: The White Star is going to show up here in the Caro Kingdom? Cale: Yes, and we'd like for you to stand back and not interfere, please Valentino: …This makes me very anxious, but alright Cale: (…I'm sure this won't bite us all in the a** later) Cale: Ok, so- *Sudden earthquakes and fire going off* Caro Kingdom: *panic* Cale: …what the-? Wind Elementals: That fire is fake! It's all an illusion! Cale: …so there's an illusionist in the Dubori Territory, huh Raon: Human, they used some really strong mana disturbance devices! I can't enter Cale: (Well f***) Cale & Choi Han: *sneak in* Sayeru & Elisneh: Fools! We knew you would use that way! We lured you in on purpose! Cale: Fools. I knew you knew we would use that way, and we did it on purpose Sayeru & Elisneh: NANI??? Elisneh: Well, how would you like fighting innocent civilians caught in my illusion! And I shall trap Choi Han in one as well! Choi Han: *falls under illusion of being trapped in the Forest of Darkness for the first time* Elisneh: Ha! That illusion is so powerful, it won't break even if you kill me-! Choi Han: *snaps out of it using Protagonist Willpower* Elisneh: Wait wha- Choi Han: *destroys her medium* [Enemy Elisneh Fled the Battle!]
Dis-Arming the White Star White Star: *shows up* Cale's group: *gang up on the White Star* Sayeru: *loses an arm* White Star: *also loses an arm* Cale: Damn it. I was aiming for the right one. …Oh well Arm: *video-calling to White Star* My liege! Assassins and mercenaries are destroying our secret base!! Ron and Beacrox: *casually reclaiming their house on another continent* We gotta clean up this mess before Young Master Cale shows up Cale: *smug* …NOW he's down three arms Valentino: *freaks out over everything going on* *Cale coughs blood and/or faints counter: 18*
Unlocking: Dragon Half-Blood's Backstory! Dragon Half-Blood: Ok, so this is where the second Arm base is located Dorph: You traitor! How dare you betray your own father! Dragon Half-Blood: *having been experimented on and locked up in a basement for 900 years by the White Star* …are you f***ing serious?? Dorph: Obviously, you betrayed us because you share blood with the Black Dragon! Dragon Half-Blood: …Wait, what Cale: (WTF???) Cale: Ok listen, you can't die before we unlock that backstory, got it?! Dragon Half-Blod: S-sure? Cale's group: *destroys everything* White Star's group: *shows up* Cale's group: Later suckers! *teleports away* Cale: Alright so WTF is your deal, man Dragon Half-Blood: So the heart of the baby dragon from the red egg was shoved into my chest, and the White Star wanted me to eat the black egg too. So I threw it away Cale: Threw it away? Dragon Half-Blood: I gave it to Redika and told him to hide it somewhere with comfort and protection spells all over the place Cale: …you mean you protected it Dragon Half-Blood: Don't be absurd. Clearly I just threw it away, because I'm not a good person Cale: (This oblivious idiot…!) Cale: Ok so I don't like you at all, but you can't die now. So keep on living as long as you can Dragon Half-Blood: …you're a really good person Cale: Don't be absurd
Stealing the Earth Attribute Cale: Hello, my name is Bob and I'd like to climb this dangerous mountain Bobe: Sir, no way! I sympathize over our similar names, but you will definitely die! Cale: I'll pay you a ton of money Bobe: I don't care about the money! …but I have to make sure you fools don't get killed [A Wild Red Snake Appeared!] The Ancient Power: Cale, how are you going to fit that power in your plate?! Cale: A cheat code, that's how Ancient White Star's voice: Would you like to dominate the world through fear-? Cale: What f*caking nonsense Ancient White Star's voice: Wait wha- Cale: *uses OP sealing skill from his Team Leader* [Earth Ancient Power: Blood-Drenched Rock, acquired!] *Cale's Ancient Power counter: 8*
And the Scale Just Keeps Growing Alberu: *completely done with everything* …Cale Henituse. Cale: What's wro-? Alberu: …Why the hell do you claim to plan a bonfire before setting the entire continent on fire?! Cale: What are you… *reads how Valentino publicly declared war against the White Star and asked everyone for backup* …oh damn Alberu: Oh damn is right!!! We're not ready to fight the White Star yet if we want to limit the casualties! Cale: Hm… But you know what, Hyung? Alberu: Call me your highness Cale: Sure, your highness. Remember the Illusionist? Turns out she's the queen of the Molden Kingdom, a major country on the Eastern Continent. How would you like to cut off another one of White Star's "limbs"? Alberu: …Call me Hyung
White Star Becomes a Conspiracy Theorist White Star & Sayeru: *enter the abandoned part of the underground Dark Elf city* Sayeru: Oh wow, look at this place! It must be ancient! White Star: …my power tells me this tree died less than a week ago. This must be a trap Cale: (Well f***) Cale: *steps out of hiding* You figured it out. Now what? White Star: …I finally get it Cale: …? White Star: You're a transmigrator, aren't you Cale: (Dammit, so he knows-) White Star: You're been jumping bodies for centuries while preparing to fight me Cale: …! (Wait wha-?) White Star: *sees a reaction* I'm totally right aren't I! Cale: No? White Star: Feigning ignorance again, I see! Cale: No seriously, I- White Star: You won't fool me!! Cale: *blows up the ceiling* [Enemies White Star & Sayeru Fled the Battle!]
Hidden Backstories and Secrets Everywhere Alberu: …why do you all have such weird expressions Cale: Your highness… the White Star believes I'm a serial body-jumper transmigrator who's been secretly preparing to defeat him for centuries. Alberu: ??? Alberu: …you're not, right? Cale: (Do you even need to ask?!) Obviously, he's crazy. Alberu: ...Right. Cale: Also, he mentioned something about the Gate to the Demon World, so we have to investigate it. And if you could give me some ancient records on your family that would be great Alberu: *breaks into cold sweat* …Sure… Cale: Also Dragon Half-Blood, you gotta fess up about your backstory to Raon and Sheritt Dragon Half-Blood: *near nervous breakdown* …Okay… Dragon Half-Blood: *makes it out of the confession alive but with GUILT COMPLEX(TM)* Choi Han: …you wanna cook with me? Dragon Half-Blood: Sure *chops onions* Beacrox: *pissed* Get out of my kitchen you heathens
Third World Tree Meeting Cale: So I got a question, is there a time-related ancient power? World Tree: I dunno about that, but time is sure ticking down for you – remember that note with a countdown from the God of Death? He sure likes making deals Cale: Oh yeah, like the Vow of Death World Tree: It's a tracker BTW Cale: Wait what World Tree: Yeah, so you shouldn't trust him, since he- *loses a branch* …dammit. Censorship sucks Cale: It sure does World Tree: Anyway, the gods can't mess with fate, but they actually can. You can probably figure out the rest Cale: Right. Thanks World Tree: Also, Alberu Crossman was fated to be here Cale: …that sure is random World Tree: Oh it won't be very soon Adite: Also, Arm created a fake World Tree and it's right there *points at Molden City capital* The Elves all failed to approach it before, can you help us? Cale: …Perfect
Unlocking: Alberu Crossman's Backstory! Alberu: …you asked me about my family records Cale: Right Alberu: *brings him to a secret underground place* So this is it. The truth is… that my family was cursed by the Sun God. Cale: …? Alberu: *points at rock carvings* This right here says that a person with darkness within shouldn't ever become a king. (Meaning a dark elf like me shouldn't inherit the throne…) Cale: *absent-minded* Right…? Alberu: *tender hopes for reassurance and validation crushed* … *Meanwhile, in Cale's head:* The Ancient Powers: So there's, like, a crazy resemblance between the Crown Prince and the Ancient White Star for some reason…? Of course the Crown Prince is much hotter Cale: …! Cale: Your highness Alberu: Yes, yes, I know, I- Cale: -your ancestor was a criminal? Alberu: Yes, my ancestor- wait what. I thought we were talking about me being unworthy of the throne?? Cale: The hell are you talking about?? This isn't about that, it's about the Sky Attribute Alberu: Huh? Cale: It's probably from the Demon World Alberu: Huh?? Cale: And according to an unspecified ancient source, you look an awful lot like the first White Star Alberu: HUH??? Cale: So it isn't really a curse, more like a warning. You should totally be the king Alberu: … Alberu: *exasperated* THEN WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU JUST SAY SO Also Alberu: *trust mode maxed out*
Rebellion in the Molden Kingdom Plot – Start! Glenn: We got a problem. Remember how Bud went to investigate Elisneh and the Molden Kingdom? Cale: Yeah? Glenn: Well he got captured by the banished princess. (I so regret being friends with that idiot) Cale: ?! Glenn: *shows recording* Jopis: *elegantly sipping tea with Bud tied up in the background* You there whoever is actually behind this man, come meet me or I'll blow his f***ing head off Cale & Alberu: (…wow, what a woman) Cale: Let's go meet her then Jopis: Hello. I was banished because I saw through that b**** and her illusions due to my weak shaman powers that let me talk to dogs Cale: Wanna overthrow your crazy sister together? Jopis: I sure do. Even if you're the devil himself Cale's group: (…he's something worse, actually) Cale: You're gonna give the Raon Kingdom benefits, tho Jopis: What about your personal benefits? Cale: *official permit to loot in his pocket* …nothing, nothing Jopis: Anyway, how are we going to deal with all the dead mana? Cale: Simple… Cale: Dragon simps. Lots and lots of dragon simps. *Nearly all Elves and Dark Elves of the two continents show up to deal with the fake World Tree* Jopis: …Ha! You are definitely worse than the devil Glenn: Emergency!! All 1,001 mercenaries who went to investigate the Gate to the Demon World went missing!!! Bud: *serious mode* I gotta go. Cale- Cale: Go, we'll join you after we're done Bud: …Thank you. Cale: Let's quickly get started then Cale's group: *barges in and causes chaos & destruction* Molden Kingdom Officials: Rebellion!! Traitorous Princess Jopis has returned!!! Jopis: *leads Cale & co. to the underground maze* The walls are filled with dead mana, so there's no way to- Cale: Break them down Jopis: Wait what Mary & the Dark Elves: *absorb all the dead mana and get stronger* Jopis: ...Well ok then Royal children: We are here on a secret mission for our benevolent queen! She told us to carry those totally-not-deadly bottles with precious black jewels inside! Jopis: That crazy evil b**** Royal children: Look, her majesty is here! She came to save us! Elisneh: Yes, I came to save you all Cale: Such bulls*** in front of the children Elisneh: *nonchalantly poisons one of the children* Yup, they're all my hostages Cale: Welp, time to explode a maze I guess. Elisneh: Wait wha- Cale: *goes on a war path on an F***ing Huge Stone Imugi*
End Volume 5.
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goodemethyd · 10 months
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hiiii i would like to order "Still the best kisser in the world" or "Feeling a little needy today?" (or both) for sahnetra or sashnarcia <3
anetra, i'm sorry girl
It seemed like a good idea when it started. It seemed like a great idea, really. Sasha was hot and Anetra was getting some of the best sex of her life. There were no strings, no expectations. Just fun.
Until Anetra went and fucked it all up.
Sasha had made it clear what their situation was. Purely physical, a good time and a good orgasm or two. It was supposed to be something simple and easy.
But for Anetra it had turned into more. She had capital F Feelings for Sasha, and no matter how hard she tried, Anetra couldn’t make them stop or go away. Every time she pulled her clothes back on, every time she left Sasha’s bed, every time she went home alone, another piece of Anetra’s heart broke.
And every time Anetra came back anyway. She wasn’t going to turn down any part of Sasha. She would take anything Sasha would give her, no matter how much it hurt.
So when Sasha texted her on Friday at 1 am, Anetra grabbed her keys and headed out the door. Fifteen minutes later, Sasha pulled Anetra into her apartment and immediately pulled her into a scorching kiss.
They wasted no time getting into Sasha’s bedroom, into her bed, and getting their hands and mouths all over each other. Anetra lost herself in it, all of her senses invaded by Sasha.
After the first orgasm, everything was perfect. Anetra didn’t want the night to end. She pulled Sasha in for another kiss, initiating round two before Sasha could tell her to leave.
After the second orgasm, everything stopped being perfect. Anetra’s critical thinking skills had been completely fucked out of her, and after being kissed stupid by Sasha’s skillful mouth, Anetra’s lips did something without her brain’s permission.
“Still the best kisser in the world,” Anetra breathed out. She sounded fucking reverent. It was embarrassing.
“Don’t,” Sasha warned, sitting up and glaring at Anetra. “You can’t say shit like that. This isn’t… It’s not a relationship, Anetra. You know exactly what this is.”
“No, yeah. I know.” Anetra shook her head, laughing it off. Or at least trying to. Because she wasn’t laughing inside. Inside, she was being torn apart from Sasha’s harsh words.
But Anetra kissed Sasha again anyway. She occupied her mouth so she couldn’t say anything else that might ruin this. Because even though it wasn’t the way Anetra wished she could have Sasha, at least she could have her at all.
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arsonisticnesswriter · 4 months
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any more gassy zelink hcs? 👀 like maybe zelda being embarrassed over how much she likes link’s gas and vice versa, or link purposefully making them meals that will mess both of them up? just how this new side of them fits into a newly budding romance ✨✨
I have MANY gassy headcanons for these two lol (feel free to DM 👀)
1Hell yeah, dancing around each other's feelings with an awkward fetish 🥴
Like, they've been through so much together and they must be anxious not to weird each other out or ruin what they have.
...but damn Link really likes farting in Zelda's face and making her squawk indignantly before she gives him that blushing pout he loves
And Zelda has a new habit of "thanking" Link for his cooking by ripping the rudest, nastiest possible fart during the meal
Falling asleep in the same tent, giggling and gasping for air as they fart up a storm and practically gas themselves to sleep every night
Just falling in love with each other more through their farts 🥰
Also YES Link catches on to Zelda's ...reactive royal tummy and immediately gains a fascination with making food that gives her the Farts, with a capital F. He overeats to get himself gassy and they toot so much that everything in a five mile radius gives them a wide berth.
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reverieparacosm · 5 months
Text
Smut: Sir Gideon Ofnir x F!Reader
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Sir Gideon Ofnir (Elden Ring) x F!Reader
Warnings/Tags: Smut, Age Difference (all characters portrayed are 18+ legal adults), light possessive behavior, orgasm delay/denial, plot what plot/porn without plot, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, kind of mask kink
Synopsis: In the midst of a perilous quest for an item, a strong and compelling bond begins to flourish between you and Sir Gideon Ofnir. As the shattered ruins of the once majestic royal capital provide a haunting backdrop, a shared moment by the crackling fire ignites a passionate and electric encounter that transcends the boundaries of your mission.
Note: First time writing Smut, so have mercy on me! Shout-out to @velvet-apricots Without her this fanfic would not have been possible
The wind howls eerily through the streets of Leyndell, now littered with rubble and the decaying remains of past grandeur. Amidst the ruined splendor lie traces of once-luxuriant opulence - shimmering gold, ornately designed mosaics, and colossal statues that bore witness to the lost glory of days gone by.
Despite these reminders of former wealth and power, Leyndell exudes an air of somberness, a sense of hopeless desolation that permeates its walls.
As Sir Gideon Ofnir leads the way into a dimly lit chamber devoid of furniture, save for a crackling fire burning brightly amidst piles of rubble, your heart races with anticipation.
The room is ensconced in a vibrant tapestry of nature's embrace. Overgrown with lush plants and entwined roots, it exudes an enchanting aura. Bookshelves, adorned with glistening golden ornaments, stand as silent sentinels, guarding the treasures of knowledge within. As you step inside, the air becomes an intoxicating blend of damp earth and the intoxicating perfume of blossoming flowers, beckoning you further into this forgotten sanctuary. Your eyes are drawn to the majestic columns and intricate golden accents that adorn every corner, a testament to the opulence that once graced these hallowed walls.
You both have been searching for rare items in the Leyndell Royal Capital.
While it seems unlikely to find anything valuable among all the wreckage, the thrill of exploring such places fills you with excitement and anticipation. This very intensity, fueled by adrenaline and desire, slowly ignites a flame within you both.
With every step closer to the smoldering embers, you feel your body grow increasingly restless, yearning for relief from the mounting pressure simmering beneath your clothes. Unable to resist any longer, Gideon moves toward you, gently brushing your hair away from your face.
His touch sends waves of warmth cascading down your spine, sparking an uncontrollable surge of need deep within your core.
With the faint glow casting mysterious shadows across the walls, it seems like some secret hideaway where lovers would find solace amid the chaos outside. Unbeknownst to him, you feel an irresistible pull towards him, an almost uncontrollable urge to explore his body. 
Despite everything, his gaze softens as it settled upon yours. "This war-torn city may seem barren," he begins, his voice husky yet gentle, "but tonight, I wish for us to make our own sanctuary."
As his fingers grazes your cheek, sending delicious chills down your spine, you could no longer resist the undeniable attraction you feel for him. Desire burns within you, igniting the embers of raw passion buried deep inside.
Yearning to feel his flesh against yours, you reach out to him tentatively.
Gently grasping his hand, you guide it upwards until it rests beneath your cloak, exploring the contours of your soft body. The silk fabric slithered off, leaving your breasts exposed and aching for his touch. Your breath hitches as his calloused hands trace circles around your supple curves, eliciting moans of desire.
"This...this is so forbidden," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and apprehension, as your fingertips delicately trace the contours of his armor. "The age gap...it feels wrong, so wrong." His touch lingers on your cheek, a gentle caress that sends shivers down your spine. Slowly, his hand glides downward, inching closer to your chest, igniting a maelstrom of conflicting emotions within you. "Don't worry," he breathes against your ear, his voice dripping with reassurance and a hint of mischief. "The boundaries we defy, the passions we explore...they transcend the constraints of time. It's more than fine."
As if drawn by an invisible force, Gideon Ofnir hovers over you, his heavy breath melding seamlessly with yours. Feeling his dick pressing against your leg, you slowly part your legs further apart, inviting him closer. 
You gaze in awe at his resplendent armor, gleaming like a constellation of stars illuminated by the dancing flames. A surge of longing fills your voice as you whisper, "Could you, just for a moment, remove your mask? I need to see you."
Gideon Ofnir, his voice tinged with dark allure, responds, "Not yet, my love. Allow me to savor this exquisite anticipation, relishing the sight of you vulnerable and quivering before me."
His large hands remove every piece of cloth from your body. It feels erotic having such skilled hands removing your clothes. Every inch of your skin becomes visible under his expertise. Naked before him, you revel in your vulnerability, feeling incredibly turned on knowing someone who is so capable will be seeing you nude.
Feasting his eyes on your body, his arousal intensifies. With his hands firmly holding onto your waist, he pulls you close.
"My, my... you look so perfect like this. Shivering under my gaze", he says.
You feel a surge of pride mixed with excitement. Reaching forward, you stroke the back of his armor, lingering there tenderly while brushing your lips along his mask.
You shiver as the chill of his armor presses against your skin, sending a tantalizing wave of sensation coursing through your body.
His rough, callused fingers tease and pinch your nipples, causing you to arch your back involuntarily. Moaning softly, you grind your hips against his growing erection, seeking release from the torment building inside you. He kneads and squeezes your ass, his thumbs circling your entrance.
Your hands instinctively reach for his armored thighs, attempting to guide him closer, deeper into you. His frame presses against your sensitized skin, evoking images of conquest and dominance.
You lay down on a table. You try to control the soft little whimpers leaving your mouth when Gideon teases your entrance. He plunges his fingers deep inside you, his movements are relentless and skilled.
He knows exactly what makes you squirm and scream, driving you mad with pleasure. You can tell from the intensity in his eyes, he enjoys making you beg for more. You open your mouth, preparing to say something, anything, but words escape you as you’re caught in a whirlwind of ecstatic emotions.
"We're going to fuck right here? What if someone sees us?" You say it with an edge of fear.
"I don't care if someone sees us. I need you, now."
Gideon enters you, burying himself entirely within your wet heat. You both groan loudly, echoing throughout the room.
Embracing the moment, you entwine your legs around his shoulders, drawing him deeper still. Clenching your inner muscles, you buck your hips rhythmically, meeting each thrust with enthusiasm.
"Oh, darling, you're really not that innocent, are you?" Every stroke drives you ever closer to the edge of blissful ecstasy. Increasingly aware of how tightly your sheath envelops him, Gideon picks up pace. His powerful movements match the ferocity of your cries as you surrender yourself fully to him.
"You look so perfect like this. An absolute mess. You have a beautiful young, soft body." murmured Gideon Ofnir, appreciating your form thoroughly.
You lift yourself up slightly, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs behind his, creating a tantalizing position.
Gideon Ofnir finds it hard to contain his excitement as he reaches down to play with your breast.
Grasping the sensitive bud, he begins to tweak and massage it, watching intently as the color rises in your face. Meanwhile, he continues to penetrate you deeply, claiming possession of your body and soul.
"It’s just me and you now," Gideon murmurs softly, planting a kiss on your lips.
Your body shivers with delight as he plunges deeper into your core, claiming every corner of your being.
Each time he withdraws, only to thrust again, harder than before, bringing you ever closer to the peak of pure ecstasy. Your muscles quiver, ready to snap at any second, as wave after wave of pleasure courses through your veins.
"Please...oh, please," you whimper, your voice laced with a desperate yearning. "Take off your mask." Every plea that escapes your lips is a testament to the overwhelming desire that consumes you.
A smile curls on his lips as he observes your surrender. "Begging is a good look for you, my love," he murmurs, his voice dripping with a sinful delight. With a deliberate slowness, he begins to peel away the mask, unraveling the enigma that hides his true face. The anticipation swells, thick with anticipation and a heady blend of fascination and trepidation.
The gleaming metal falls away, exposing his determined features framed by gray hair. Even without his helmet, his eyes remain shielded, adding to his mystique.
You lean in, captivated by the sight of his weathered face illuminated by the flickering flames. You watch closely as he unfastens his chainmail, layer by layer. Each link reveals a new scar, another battle won, a testament to his resilience.
Caressing his arms, you trace patterns of old wounds hidden beneath the smooth surface of his skin. This rugged exterior belies the tenderness found within; a gentleness reserved exclusively for those who earn his trust.
Leaning in, you place a tender kiss on his lip, savoring the salty taste of him. 
"I’m yours. Only yours", you whisper against his lips.
The warmth of his stare held a mix of hunger and tenderness; they were feelings so powerful; words alone couldn’t express them adequately.
You appreciate his beauty. You start moaning, as he starts to thrust against you.
Every movement made your entire body feel electric with pleasure. His rough, calloused palms pressed against your hip bones, giving you goosebumps and heightening your sensitivity.
His piercing gray eyes met yours, sparkling with unspoken promises. "Don't close your eyes. Look at me. Let me see the desire burning within them", he growls seductively, gripping your hips more securely, pulling you closer.
It dawned on you, then, why people say that love is blind.
Amidst the smoldering ruins of war-torn cities and the endless cycle of life and death, you discovered true companionship in the eyes of this Stoic Tarnished. Your hearts beat as one, your souls are connected, intertwined, and bound forever.
Gideon's strong arms encircle you protectively, your bodies moving in harmony. It is an age-old dance of love and lust, fueled by the mutual longing that has brought you here.
Each touch sends ripples throughout your entire being, intensifying the sensuality coursing through every nerve. With unwavering intensity, Gideon Ofnir moves closer, his lips brushing lightly against yours before plunging deeper. His tongue teases and dances with yours, driving you wild with anticipation. The tender kiss turns into something fierce, his teeth nipping playfully at your lower lip as he pulls away, only to return even more hungrily than before.
Gideon's eyes narrow as he abruptly stops his movements, his grip on your waist tightening. A cruel smirk plays on his lips as he leans in, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "Not yet, darling. You don't get to come until I say so."
He pulls out of you entirely, leaving you feeling empty and frustrated. Gideon's hand trails down your body, his touch teasing and maddeningly gentle. He circles his fingers around your sensitive bud, but doesn't apply the pressure you so desperately crave. "You see, lass, I control every aspect of your pleasure. Your release is in my hands," he taunts, his voice filled with dark amusement. "You're going to have to beg for it. Beg me to let you come."
He continues to stroke and tease you, his touch sending shivers of need coursing through your body. Gideon leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "Tell me how much you want it. How badly you need to come. Beg for it."
The ache between your legs intensifies, and the need for release becomes unbearable. You find yourself succumbing to his dominance, to the power he holds over your pleasure. With a desperate edge to your voice, you plead, "Please, Gideon. Let me come. I need it. I need you."
A wicked grin spreads across Gideon's face as he finally relents, his fingers applying the pressure you crave. The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you ride the waves of ecstasy. He watches you, his expression one of smug satisfaction as he revels in the control he has over your pleasure.
Without a word, he positions himself back at your entrance and thrusts inside you once again, his movements forceful and unrelenting. His grip on your hips tightens as he sets a punishing rhythm, his hips meeting yours with a primal intensity. The sound of your moans and the slap of skin against skin fills the room, echoing with the raw passion between you. Gideon's voice is filled with a mix of dominance and lust as he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You can't get enough of me, can you? Your body craves my touch, my control. You're mine to use, to pleasure." His thrusts grow faster and harder, driving you towards the edge once more. Gideon's grip on your waist leaves marks, a testament to his possessiveness. 
As the rhythmic movements continue, your body becomes a symphony of pleasure. Pleasure swells inside you, reaching its crescendo, and finally bursts forth in glorious abandon.
Lost in a sea of ecstasy, you cry out his name, unable to hold back anymore.
With his own climax approaching, Gideon Ofnir quickens his strokes, as his control slips away. As you reach the crest of pleasure together, he slides deep inside you one last time, pulsing powerfully.
Exhausted and spent, Gideon collapses beside you. He traces gentle circles around your checks, brushing the locks off your forehead. As he studies your sleeping visage, the intensity of his regard seemed almost tangible.
The moonlight casts a dreamlike luminescence over your body, rendering it ethereally beautiful. The silhouette of your profile stood proud against the wall, highlighting the sharp angles of your nose and jawline. Yet despite your delicate appearance, you possessed a steely resolve, evident in your unflinching gaze and steadfast determination during training sessions. You were more than a pretty face – you were a force to be reckoned with.
During these quiet moments, Gideon allowed himself to admire the bond forming between you two.
For someone so young, your understanding of the world around you far exceeded that of most of your peers. It amazed him how swiftly you assimilated knowledge and developed skills beyond your years. However, your innocence remained undeniable, especially when it came to matters of the flesh.
Despite your shared desire for physical gratification, Gideon takes immense satisfaction in mentoring you in the ways of passion. While other men might see you merely as a sexual object, Gideon views you as a worthy partner capable of satisfying his needs intellectually, emotionally, and physically.
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arcielee · 7 months
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At last, when all of the world is asleep
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Summary: A Dornish princess is the siren call to break the vows of the Kingsguard. Paring: Ser Erryk Cargyll x Dornish!Reader Word Count: 2015 Warnings: AFAB reader, plotting sexual situations, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, finger licking good. Author’s Note: Thank you to my beloved beta reader @sylasthegrim 💜 I appreciate you and your edits, always. Banner by @saradika Title comes from Hozier's lyrics De Selby Part 1 (are we surprised by this?) and the plot comes from this ask: "I want a beautiful princess to corrupt and completely ruin him and make him break his oath." Enjoy! Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @snowprincesa1
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The shudder was gratifying, trilling your spine with how his beard tickled the column of your neck, his lips both soft and warm, and the welcomed contrast of his teeth to taste. Your fingers grabbed to pull him closer to the cradle of your hips, burying your face in the nap of his neck and your mouth suckling on his pulsepoint with enough pressure to bruise; you felt him shiver, his voice strangled, husky, when he called out your name. 
To that, you pulled back, abrupt, catching his gaze and your hand coming up to wag a finger. “Good ser,” you tsked, your lips curling upwards, “do not forget who I am.” 
His eyes were glassy, the blue-gray storm that was slowly being swallowed by black. “Forgive me, princess,” he was quick to correct, watching for your response. 
You gave another smirk, your arms reaching to wrap around his neck to pull him back into your embrace, his welcomed musk of blade oil against the perspiration of his skin. “Gentle ser,” you almost purred before capturing his mouth again. 
He was not Valyrian, not the dragon you sought, but the knight was handsome still. And besides, you were sorely out of practice after the imposed propriety of Northern Westerosi customs and the role of a grieving widow. 
When your father had first mentioned the prospect of marrying into the Velaryon House, the Valyrian blood called to you, a curiosity if your babes would be born with silver heads or the crystalline hues of amethysts eyes, and you were quick to accept the proposal. You packed away your dresses and left Sunspear, boarding the ship to travel the Narrow Sea and bring you to your betrothed. 
The marriage had been disappointingly short-lived; your husband was everything you had imagined, handsome, tall, his silver hair knotted back and his clever purple eyes bright, watching you every movement with care, with desire. The consummation had a passion that carried over until dawn, but only after he was gone did your cycle follow to show it did not bear fruit.
“Do not fret, princess,” Princess Rhaenys offered comfort, “you will have plenty of try-agains when they return.”
But she had spoken too soon and you received word that his life was claimed in the Stepstones, though the real tragedy that followed came from the widow garb you were now expected to don. The seamstresses were quick to fit you with the heavy, itchy fabric that covered your skin and robbed you of what little sunlight spilled through to the gray island that you were caged in a figurative sense. 
While your family by marriage grieved the life lost, you mourned your freedom, you mourned the sun you had left behind in Dorne, of the air on your skin that would show in your garments that were now packed away. 
Hope came as a raven, sent by the king and queen of the Seven Realms, extending their sympathies and offering the opportunity to leave the gray slab of land in the middle of Blackwater Bay, with an invitation to the capital so that you could serve Princess Helaena as company. You accepted with the same breath as you finished the words out loud, your claimant that your father’s intention wished you to be an envoy for Dorne, when really your sights were set on a Targaryen prince, your Valyrian bloodlust. 
King’s Landing was bright, bustling with life; you were escorted from the docks inside to the Red Keep where you would meet with the royal family, astutely aware how every set of eyes followed your steps; you gave a wistful sigh, certain of the attention if you could be rid of the widow gowns. 
Gratefully, the queen was considerate of the temperature change in comparison to Driftmark, and the seamstress was sent to recede the fabric in your neckline and sleeves. It still was far from the comfort of your own dresses, but considerably better after half a year of bereavement. It was a taste of freedom, and you dared to add subtle touches of make up, nothing exorbitant, just a touch of tinted beeswax to gloss your lips, a smear of kohl to frame your eyes.
Dorne was a nation that always embraced its sexuality, a sharp contrast to the pious King’s Landing that was laden with symbols of the Seven. You were determined to remarry–two Targaryen princes unwed, two possible dragons to claim–but to catch a dragon, you had to lay an enticing trap, but you wondered if you were rusty with the enforced bereavement having you feeling like a maiden once again. 
So your attention turned to the piety of the Kingsguard that shadowed royalty’s every step. There were those whose gazes lingered well outside what would be deemed appropriate, the blatant, heady lust that enveloped the color of their irises and the bold reds that tainted their features–to which you scoffed. 
A challenge was what you craved, and then you spotted him; his copper tones in duo, though the twins could be distinguished by how they held themselves, as well the fact that Ser Arryk served as Prince Aegon’s shadow. 
Your eyes trained to the other, Ser Erryk Cargyll, the flutter of your lashes when he looked in your direction, the demure dip of your face to coyly cover a smile meant for him to see. 
He did not fracture with your attention, but you–Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken–would not be dissuaded. It was a tantalizing game, something you swore to be playing solo until you spotted it; the tension held in his features by the shackles of his oath, a tick in his jaw or the flit of his smoky blue eyes in your proximity. 
You chose a night to drink, indulging in the imported Dornish wines, a singsong request to be escorted to your rooms that the queen was happy to oblige. 
“Ser Erryk, would you please help the princess to her quarters?”
And now you were at the edge of your bed like you were seated on the throne, watching the Kingsguard that was kneeled so prettily between your thighs spread. He is beautiful, you mused, looking over the warm tones that touched his features, clashing with the copper coloring of his hair. 
He looked up at you, now bare from the waist up, his eyes wide, watchful, waiting for your command, your very breath of direction so that he may obey you; he was an incitant sight, from the cobalt ash coloring of his eyes, wet and wanting, to the flush of pink on his kiss-swollen lips. 
“Please,” his voice was thick. 
You could not help your smile, and asked with your slow drawl. “Please, what?”
“Please, princess,” he began again, his head tilted further to show the length of his neck, and how it bobbed when he swallowed. “Allow me to taste you.” 
You indulged him, enjoying the vibration of his groan with his intimate kiss between your thighs made your own skin ripple with gooseflesh, along with the soft tickle of his beard. But he was a man starved, lapping without purpose until your fingers combed through his hair and pulled him back to meet with your smokey gaze.  
Ser Erryk watched rapt as you lifted your hand, holding two fingers up; you could see the lustful pools of black claiming the coloring of his eyes, the bloom of rust of his beard around his mouth, the glisten of your arousal that shone on him. 
You brought your fingers to press to his bottom of his mouth and he obediently wrapped his lips around; you giggled from his eagerness, from the tickle of his tongue on the pads of your fingers. The spittle broke and added to the rust when you pulled back, his eyes following as your pressed between your folds, watching you bring pleasure to yourself, showing him just how you needed to be touched. 
A pitiful whimper spilled from the Kingsguard before you allowed him to feast again, and he returned with vigor, with purpose. Your wanton moans echoed against the cobblestone. “Princess,” he breathed against your wet cunt, “you must stay quiet.” 
This was impossible to do; your time as a widow left you touch starved and your body was trembling, overly sensitive to his every deliberate touch–how he flourished with the bit of direction shown, and now, oh the gods, the pleasure curled something beautiful at the base of your spine, something sparking with familiarity from what felt like a lifetime ago. 
Then you felt the pressure of his fingers, the careful add of one and the another, and they pushed within you, searching until you saw colors dancing in front of your eyes; Ser Erryk was pleased, focused, pulling you towards the precipice and it washed over you; your skin rose, your nipples pebbled, the cry-out from your lips and clenching response as your pleasure rippled over you with a vengeance, with its reclaim. 
You laid there for a moment, the blood rising to your skin, your chest rising and falling with your breaths, a drunk smile on your lips. 
The knight was now fully bare and was careful to move on top of you, the pale alabaster of his skin and its marking from his service was so warm to the touch. His palms were large, calloused and gentle to peel off your chemise over your head, the tickle of his kisses that worshiped every bit of your skin now showed, glowing with the attention from his mouth.  
“Ser Erryk,” you gasped as he shifted between your thighs, “please.”
He obeyed, flushed, fumbling, his hand dipping between to trail your silken folds, to map your entrance and reached to line himself. He showed consideration with the slow motion of his hips, another gasp from your lips as he filled and stretched your velvet walls; Ser Erryk moved as if you were glass and you wrapped your leg around his slender waist, pulling him flush against you, wishing to be shattered beneath him.
It was all the encouragement needed and he rutted against you, his hot mouth biting into the nap of your neck to muffle his guttural groans. Your mewls were lilted with laughter, the crest of pleasure that rolled over with each of his thrusts; your hand dipped between to tip you over the edge once again. 
The knight could not withstand the sinful clench and he pulled back, a desperate clutch to allow the pearly ropes of his spend against your stomach, his staggered breath as he watched your own fingers coax through your completion. There was a heady look between the two of you before he pushed back to rest on his heels, and you pressed to your elbows, bringing your fingers to your lips and cleaning them, your eyes never leaving his. 
Ser Erryk blushed, pulling away and allowing you to admire his form, the lewd, intrusive thought, the sword in his hand and the sword between, as he moved towards your washbin and returned with a damp cloth; your eyes never left what swayed between his thighs with his each step. He was bashful, handing you the cloth while avoiding your direct gaze as you cleaned yourself, starting to dress himself.
You pushed from the bed, unabashed with your bare skin, sultry steps towards him to assist him with donning his armor plates to his lithe figure beneath his gambeson. When you finished, you could see his hesitation perched on his tongue and cannot help but toy further with the knight. 
“Good ser,” you tone low to match your steps, and your weight shifted to accentuate your every curve, “can I trust you to always escort me to my quarters when needed?” 
His jaw steeled beneath the reds of his beard at your implication, his tick returning as the shackles tightened again. It was a pregnant pause before his eyes met with yours, and you half-expected to see the beautiful blues, but were pleased to see his darkened gaze.
“Whatever you wish of me,” and his low timbre thrilled you. “Princess.”
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aita-blorbos · 7 months
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AITA for using a glitch to mess with the final boss?
Some context: I (?M) accidentally received 255 boxes of pizza. I put them all in a fridge then tried to throw out some old milk. The pizza stack duplicated itself and the fridge got really glitchy. Still don't know why some of those items were in there.
Anyway, I found out I can edit the world through this thing. My colleague (?M) wanted to dispose of it, but I couldn't just let him! It would've been a waste of a good opportunity!
So instead of disposing of it, I took it to the elder (Old, M) because he wanted the hero (?M) to not worry about his duty for a while longer. Sure, whatever. So I used the glitch to turn the final boss (?F) and her minions into humans. By consequence, the entire capital city glitched out as well.
Turns out the hero needed to hero soon no matter what, but turns out he died. In a fun twist of fate, the ex-final boss took up the mantle of hero! She just told me she's going to fight the chairman of the bank (?M, honestly he was already ruining the kingdom) and after that we're going to find out how to fix everything.
I'm waiting for her to arrive, but I can't help but wonder, AITA?
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literary-illuminati · 10 months
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Book Review 14 - The Best of Nancy Kress, by Nancy Kress
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Okay, continuing to work through my backlog on these! And learning the perils of letting it build for a month because my memories of most of the stories in this are already getting a bit vague and scattered.
So, getting the basic details out of the way – my first short story collection of the year, 600 pages of the works of Nancy Kress, curated and selected by the author herself as all her favourites that would fit in one volume. Someone on here (can’t remember who and tumblr search is being its usual unusuable self, unfortunately) recommended Beggars In Spain to me a while back, and this was the only volume my library system had that included it. So, 500-ish pages of other stories as a nice bonus until I got to the end and remembered that that’s the reason I’d gotten the book out in the first place.
The stories run from less than ten pages to a novella, and Kress includes a little half-page afterward following each. Usually either a reflection on the meaning of the story or an anecdote about its writing or reception, and then where and when it was originally published and any awards it won. And there were a lot of awards You can get a lot of short stories nominated for Hugos over 45 years of writing. The little snapshots of a, like, SF/F writer subculture and the relationships therein were all charming, anyway.
The stories themselves were of pretty wildly varying subject matter, though all science fiction of one kind or another. Everything from post-apocalyptic ruins to spaceships studying the galactic core to the drama and intrigue of gene-modding among high class ballerinas twenty minutes from now. The quality varied – it would pretty much have to, for like two dozen stories written across a span of decades – but overall it was really quite good.
Tone was rather more consistent. Some were happier than others, of course, but even the most fantastical and high concept worlds were pretty grimy and compromised and full of petty politics and pettier assholes. Capital H Heroes were pretty thin on the ground, even (especially) among the various protagonists. Kress seems to have a rare love for women who aren’t just, like, spiky, but genuinely flawed and unpleasant to be around (easier to pull off with short stories than novels, I suppose).
Short stories are great for just putting people in situations generally, really – not sure how long you could really draw out ‘feeling awkward and shitty because the guy you’re having an affair with was on a ‘business trip’ to visit you when aliens abducted and/or killed everyone in the city his wife and kids were in. He absolutely blames you for this,’ but it’s sure a hook!
Familial relationships that are, lets go with troubled, are a whole other recurring theme, too. Sororicidal sisters, deadbeat dads, obsessive ex-wives, parents putting their children through experimental gene-therapy to make sure they grow up with the ideal body to vicariously live out their dreams, the whole set. There’s even some dubiously consensual clone incest at one point!
Though honestly the lack of capital-h Heroes goes beyond just morality – thinking about it, most of the short stories are told from the perspective of observers, survivors, sufferers of exotic diseases, journalists poking at a mess from the outside. People whose world is being acted upon by forces far beyond their control, if not beyond their understanding entirely, and either bearing witness or struggling to adapt and get by. The stories where the protagonists had real agency – the scientists exploring the galaxy’s core, the time-travellers taking an alternate Anne Boleyn hostage to prevent the English Civil Wars – are usually the tragedies. There are a lot of those – or, if not tragedies, then at least stories that end badly for almost everyone involved. I’m halfway convinced that short stories are just a more appealing format for properly bleak fiction, really – less investment in characters’ wellbeing, or narrative expectations pushing towards growth or happy endings.
And now, before I focus on discussing Beggars In Spain specifically, some call outs for the short stories that really stuck in my head
The aforementioned gene-moding scandals in New York ballet, partially told through the perspective of the engineered-to-be-as-smart-as-a-5-year-old bespoke guard dog contracted to protect a start ballerina. Nicely understated cyberpunk setting and also felt extremely realistic as the sort of thing we’ll absolutely be having scandals about in fifty years tbh.
A woman discovering that the aliens are here amid the ruins of postwar Earth because they started getting our television broadcasts and decided that the only thing we had worth taking was dogs, but are stuck here until they figure out how to train them to be as good and heroic as they are in the movies.
A disenchanted and nostalgic man in the 80s finding a specific cupboard that goes back to one specific day in 1935 (I think. Pre-war but Roosevelt administration). He uses this exclusively to make his social security cheque go further and buy little presents for his friend with what in the 80s is pocket change. The actual plot involves despairing over how cynical and bleak-minded his granddaughter the artist is, and deciding to go back and a Good Man to introduce her to.
An extremely short one – just a one-scene vignette, really – about a waitress in a vaguely ‘50s diner when one of the aliens whose been in the news so much escapes their minders and wants to try an apple pie.
(There were also, I must admit, a decent number of stories that left me cold or that I just didn’t see the point of including, but, again, pretty much inevitable in any big collection, isn’t it?)
But okay, so! Beggars in Spain! It’s definitely an interesting novella, and given the fact that it’s 30 years old and was by all accounts incredibly successful I do kind of wonder how many common tropes about the whole super-intelligent designer babies conceit I’ve encountered elsewhere first are downstream of it?
Because I mean, ostensibly it’s about children modified in utero to not need to sleep, but practically that cashes out to them all being creative productive polyglot geniuses. Which is certainly the fantasy of never having to sleep with zero downsides, though honestly I’m pretty sure I’d spend at least half the extra time fucking around online. That said, the sense of alienation the protagonist has dealing with a world where almost everyone around her seems to just be wasting a third of their lives laying down is really well done.
It’s the sort of novella that you could probably write a dozen a dozen different essays about, and would probably benefit from being analyzed with less than a month’s distance and quotes on hand, but for all the futurism (and really not the best story in the collection for that, honestly), the thematic throughline that stood out to me is actually just libertarianism? Or not quite the right word, probably, though it is our heroine’s ideology (she is, after all, the favoured daughter of a self-made magnate, amid a social circle of the golden children of the striving upper-middle class). But the specific idea of enlightened selfishness, that the contract is the basis of all society, that no one owes anyone anything, and you are only worth what you can produce to offer up in exchange to others.
It’s where the title comes from, after all – the eponymous beggars with nothing to offer except their need who are entirely superfluous and inconvenient to the lives of the Sleepless ubermensch; what are they owed? The orthodox answer of the movement basically every major character at least ostensibly ascribes to is ‘nothing’.
Not that any of them actually act like individuals interacting solely through mutually beneficial contracts, which I’m fairly sure is in fact the point – the Sleepless invent nationalism before any of them turn thirty, going to great effort to support and look after each other on the basis of Sleepless-solidarity and an assumption that each of them is the future of humanity. And on the other hand, the protagonist’s father is a domineering, overbearing ass of a partner, draining both of his wives’ personality and will to live in turn until they get tired of being bitter social secretaries for him and quit. Equitable, contractual relationships are thin on the ground – and of course the entire climax is the protagonist relying on friends and an estranged sister to rescue an abused child who surely isn’t likely to pay any of them back for the effort anytime soon.
I thought the hypocrisy was neatly done, anyway. Especially since it’s never really confronted – none of the Sleepless ever show the slightest awareness that the lengths they’ll go to for the sake of each other purely on the basis of their shared enhancements seem to contradict the ideology they treat as holy writ.
Overall not exactly my favourite book of the year, but a fair bit better than a lot of what I’ve read so far. So I’ll call it a win. Just for the time capsule effect of reading stories written by the same author across four decades, if nothing else.
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