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youraverageaemondsimp · 2 years ago

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“Be Quiet.” // DILF!Aemond Targaryen x Babysitter!Reader // PART ONE.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 500 FOLLOWERS! (+200 now) so here is the awaited fic, celebrating a milestone <3 based on this poll, dilf aemond won at the end haha 💞

MDNI

WARNINGS: unprotected p in v sex, dubcon(?), oral (both f and m.), blowjob, cum eating, cum play(?), breeding kink, multiple orgasms, age gap (9ish years), DILF aemond, single father aemond, power imbalance(?), throat fucking, cunnilingus, lots and lots of kissing, + not proofread

WC: 7.1k (yeah...)

« part two // 🎄 special »

Getting fired from your job while trying to pay rent and gathering tuition fees isn't exactly ideal, you wanted to pursue a bachelor's degree after high school, but you didn't have enough money, coming from a family that was barely held by, nor were you eligible to apply for student because there were legal issues.

You moved out of your parents not wanting to financially burden them anymore, renting a decent apartment with just enough space for you to call it a 'home' you've been working for the past 2 years, a decent paying job but it was enough to get by and save up on the fees too, everything seemed to be going perfect until you suddenly got fired and your landlord decided to increase the rent.

You knew you'd have to cut into your savings to pay rent now, but you didn't want that, you halfway there to your goal, you were expected to get promoted and get higher pay, you calculated it, that it would only take one more year for you get enough amount to pay for the first few sems, and then maybe you'll be able to apply for a student loan by then.

But fate had different plans, and here you were on your couch scrolling through multiple apps to find any type of job, extremely desperate.

And that's when you saw it.

“Babysitter needed.” you thought how perfect of a job it would be considering the degree you wanted to so badly was based in psychology, child psychology specifically, and interacting with kids will probably give you some type of experience?

You quickly clicked on it and found the contact number, and decided to call it, you bit your lips nervously hoping they'd pick up.

“Hello?” you heard a cool voice say which sent shivers down your spine.

“Hello- yes uhm, Hi! I am calling because I saw the post on the app that said you needed a babysitter for hire?” you stumble over your words and mentally facepalm yourself for it.

“Yes, indeed. Are you interested in applying?” he asks and you quickly reply with a yes.

“Do you have any prior experience?” he asks and you reply with a quick yes, you've babysat a few kids throughout your highschool era for quick cash, as a way to not rely on your parents for menial things.

“Mhm alright, I don't want to bring your hopes up by saying you got a job, I'd like to have a personal interview first, if you do not mind.” he says and you say, thanking him and he hangs up the call.

You were fucking shaking.

It felt like applying for the first job of your life all again, the nervousness, the anxiety, the everything.

Aemond had saved your phone number and sent it to his assistant, Floris, asking her to run a background check on you, and to see if you had any criminal background, he read your name on the file that got delivered to him, sipping on his coffee while he scanned through your details.

You just turned 21, recently.

‘So young’ he thought, ‘Let me guess, she's probably looking for jobs in order to afford education.’ he guessed and he was exactly on the money with that one.

He wasn't that old himself, barely 30

He inherited his father's business at just age 23, being the only one capable of handling such pressure, his elder siblings couldn't stand a chance against him, and since then, he's maintained the Targaryen name perfectly.

He remembers falling in love with a woman older than him, he was 24, she attended one of the business parties he dreaded going to, Alys rivers was her name, they dated for 2 years before deciding to pace things up and get engaged since everything was going perfect for both of them.

Until Alys got pregnant, Aemond was overjoyed when he heard that news, but he didn't know that the child would suck the life out of her.

She died giving birth to their son, and he was devastated, being heart broken by her death, however he never once blamed his child, it was their choice to birth him, and it failed miserably.

But 3 years had passed since her death and he had moved on from her death, ready to love once again, yet it was extremely hard to find someone that wasn't after his money.

He knew he couldn't just live in the misery of heartbreak, and Alys would've wanted him to move on too.

His son, Aenys, recently turned 3 too, he inherited Aemond's purple eyes and silver blonde hair, typical targ features, but he saw how the softness of his nose, sharpness of his eyes resembled his mother.

But back to you at hand, he went through all your papers deeming you fit for the interview, he called a day later telling you the address where the interview would be held, his office.

Yes, his fucking office, as if you were applying for a job at his company, he justified it by saying that you were technically his employee.

When you got out of the taxi and looked at the company in front of you, it finally clicked in your brain that your employee was none other than Aemond Targaryen, and it only made your anxiety worse.

You went to the receptionist and told her your name, and she typed it in, giving you a small smile, telling you that you were exactly on time. She called his office to tell you that you were here and led you to his office. You looked around and noticed how big this company was, a bunch of employees working in their cubicles, typing away.

“Mr. Targaryen?” she called out and you heard a small ‘come in.’ Before stepping inside and pushing the door open for you to enter, you did and she stepped outside, closing it gently behind you, leaving you alone in the room with the man.

Aemond hadn't looked up from his files until the door closed, and when he did, he felt his breath caught in his throat.

“You may sit.” he says and you nod, sitting across him on the opposite side of the table, you felt so small under his gaze, it was so intimidating but you put up with it.

He began the interview by asking questions about yourself, and all relevant things, but there was one question that caught you off guard.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks and you furrow your brows, “Excuse me?” you question, noticing how odd of a question it is.

“Don't get me wrong, the previous babysitter had one, and she used to bring him to the apartment and…” he cleared his throat and you immediately caught on to what he was implying, “Oh! No! I do not have one, and even if I did I would not do that!” you reassure him and he gives you a nod.

He was fucking lying.

But you didn't know that.

The previous babysitter was an old lady, who Aenys liked a lot, but sadly she had to leave the city.

“I hope you know that you're expected to work full time? I leave for the office at 9AM and return back at 7PM, and you'll need to be ready to work those long hours, and sometimes I might not even return till late at night if there is extra work.” he says and you nod, and before the question can leave your mouth he cuts you off.

“Do not worry, you'll be paid for those extra hours.” he confirms and you nod smiling at him.

And then came your terms, which he agreed to, he made you sign a one year contract, and you did it without hesitation.

Frankly the pay was so high you would barely need to work 6 months to reach the full amount, but you still did an extra 6 months considering how having extra money at hand doesn't hurt.

And with a handshake, he accepted you.

You were practically going to spend most of your awake time with the kid, it sounds hectic but the pay was too good to pass up on, I mean, $80 per hour? fuck yes, you'd be having around $230k by the end of the contract. Aemond was filthy rich.

It was finally your day to go to his house and you already knew it was going to be big, but you were still shocked when you arrived to the destination, it was a 20 minute drive from your house, and it was located in the richest neighbourhood to exist in the city, you felt embarrassed getting out of your taxi at an area where everyone probably had their own cars, heck, a collection of them even, but you paid the fare and the guard got up to question you, you told him and he quickly nodded before letting you inside.

It was early in the morning, you came quickly so Aemond could show you around the house and introduce you to his kid, you stood there nervously as you rang the doorbell, Aemond had checked through the security camera before the door opened, revealing the house interior.

You quickly stepped in and he closed the door behind you. You expected him to have maids and a bunch of staff, but you were surprised when you found none. No wonder he asked if you can cook, you'd probably be doing all the work here besides the cleaning.

“Aenys is in his playroom, let me take you there.” he says cooly and you follow him, taking in your surroundings.

He opens the door to the playroom and you immediately find a kid, who you assumed to be older than 2, playing with his dragon toys, making rawr sounds, and yelling the word ‘dracarys.’ you smiled at the cuteness.

Aemond cleared his throat which caught the attention of Aenys and he smiled brightly before he jumped in his arms, “Papa!” he yelled, before he turned his attention to you and looked at his father in question

“Hey aeny, do you know how the previous babysitter had to leave town?” he asks gently and Aenys nods, “And papa needs to be away for work top right? So I got you a new babysitter who will take care of you.” he points towards you, explaining and Aenys looks at you tilting his head slightly

“Hey, Aenys.” you give him a small, waving your hand, he shyly waves back before he hides his face his fathers chest, you chuckle at the cuteness.

“I'll go give her a house tour okay? And then I will visit you once again before I leave, have fun darling.” He says and puts his son down, and Aenys looks at you once again, inspecting you, observing you, you smile at him once again, and this time he gives you a shy smile.

Aemond leaves the room and you wave a quick temporary goodbye to Aenys and follow him.

“Aenys, doesn't have a mother, or at least he had to grow up without one” Aemond randomly begins and you look at him confused. “My fiancee-” he sighs before halting his footsteps, “She- she had died while giving birth to him.” you watch as he takes deep breaths, “It's okay if you don't want to talk about it now, we have a lot of time anyway, just open up to me when you are ready, sir.” you tell him and he looks at you, giving you a nod and resumes the house tour.

It was fucking big.

Just like he said, he visited his son once more before leaving for work and the entire day you spent it with Aenys, getting to know him, observing his behaviour.

You noted that he was extremely shy at first but then he eventually warmed up to you, he still had his guard up of course since you were fairly new and a stranger in his life, you introduced yourself and he did the same.

He showed you all his toy collections, which you were genuinely fascinated by, he had so many dragon figurines and remembered each one by their name, his favourite was vhagar.

“It waass papa's once, when he was jus like mee.” he babbled cutely, the way he pronounced the words were so cute too, you swear you could die at it.

“Vhagar belonged to your papa?” you felt awkward saying the word papa, but you knew you had to considering that it was the term Aenys was used to, he nodded, smiling.

“Yesh! He gwave it to meh.” he says and you smile.

Aenys had quite a developed vocabulary for his age, though he pronunciation was a bit off, but you knew it would improve with time.

And just like that, you and Aenys grew close, he was always cheery to see you, you cooked and looked after him, feeding him vegetables in a way he would enjoy, and Aemond was surprised when he found out, considering Aenys refused to eat vegetables.

You put Aenys to sleep one day, singing him a lullaby and caressing his hair as he fell asleep in his bed, he watched you with big doe eyes, which were slowly beginning to get droopy as sleep overcame him. He closed his eyes and his brows were relaxed. You sat there for a while, watching him sleep, and you look at the time, 8PM, Aemond was running late, but you didn't mind, by the time he usually fell asleep, Aemond would've been there, listening to you sing to his son and when he finally fell asleep, you would leave, politely saying goodbye to Aemond, but this time you had stayed, since Aemond was late.

You noticed how Aenys eyebrows furrowed before you saw tears coat his eyelashes

“Mam… mama… I want mama...” he mumbled in his sleep and you swear you felt your heart wrench at that, then you heard small sniffles.

He was crying in his sleep.

Is this what usually happens after you leave? You felt extremely sad, you remember how Aemond had told you that Aenys grew up without a mother, how she had died during childbirth. You never really thought about it much but you realised how tough it must've been for Aenys, then suddenly you remembered all the times you played together or watched cartoons, how he would say the word "mother" longingly when he was referring to a mom dragon, or how he stared in a daze when a cartoon showed a mom taking care of his child.

He was beginning to notice an absence of a parental figure in his life.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sniffling getting louder, and Aenys was beginning to borderline cry out, you quickly picked him up and carried him, pacing around the room gently as you patted his back, his hand clung tightly onto the sleeve of your arm and he rested his cheek on your shoulder.

“Shhh, Aenys, it's okay.” you try consoling him but he kept repeating the words 'I want mama, mama.' in his sleep over and over again.

Not knowing what to do, you began to feel bad, so you did what you thought was the best.

“Aenys, Mama is here, it's okay hush now..” you coo gently into his ear and that's when he finally stops sniffling, 'mama?' he mumbles and you hum, “Yes, it's mama, do not cry anymore okay? Mama is here.” you caress his hair and he finally relaxes, you were so entranced in comforting him that your brain managed to ignore the presence of Aemond himself, who had arrived when you picked him up and paced around in a panic, he was going to interfere but then he heard you say those words.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you noticed him, heat climbing up your face as you realised he probably heard everything and also you were stricken with fear too cause you likely overstepped.

You gently placed Aenys down on the bed and got out of his room, anxiety coursing through your veins as you realised what you had done

But you were only trying to comfort him.

Aemond soon followed you out the room as well and you turned around to face him when he closed the door.

“I apologize— I'm so sorry—” you began.

“Don't. It's fine, I can understand why you did that.” he cuts you off, and you wince.

“He- he's been noticing.” you began and Aemond nodded, “I've noticed too.” he replies and sighs.

“Aenys has changed a lot since you've started babysitting him in a good way , and I've noticed it, he's becoming more and more aware of the world around him.” He moves to the living room, sitting on the couch and you do the same, sitting on the one opposite to him.

“I've made sure that he never felt a lack of anything in his life, but I guess it's only natural for a person to desire something he can't have.” he says.

“Aenys can have a mother, if you remarry, that void will be fulfilled somewhat.” you suggest and he looks at before chuckling “I've thought of that too, my mother said the same thing, but i cannot trust anyone, especially considering how many are after my money, who knows if they'll be kind to him, or whether Aenys will like them or not.” he sighs.

“That is true.” you agree with him and he looks at you.

“Unless… ” he begins, eye scanning your entire being and you look at him, your heartbeat quickening, just as he was about to say something, your phone rings and it cuts off the trance-like state you were in, and you look at it to see who it is.

It was a spam call.

But then your eyes bulge out of your sockets when you look at the time, “Holy shit it's late, I'm sorry sir but i have to leave now, or else it will be too dangerous.” you say and quickly apologise and he nods, dismissing you. That was the first night, sleep came to Aenys peacefully.

But it didn't to Aemond, he was lost in thought about everything, but then his mind wandered off to somewhere it shouldn't go.

The way you comforted Aenys stirred something inside you, the moment was perfect, you cooing in Aenys' ear that you were here, pretending to be his mother.

It was so perfect.

Almost as if you were made for that.

Aemond felt his heart flutter.

For the first time in years.

He couldn't help but accept the pull he felt towards you.

Aenys doesn't seem to remember the incident, probably cause he was literally just sleep talking so it was left at that, but you and Aemond however grew a bit close after that incident, he came back home early as he can, so he could spend time with his son and you, he was subconsciously trying to get his son used to both of them being around, both present in his life as parental figures.

You obviously weren't able to leave early just because he got home early because those were your mandatory hours, so it became your new normal to spend time with him and Aenys.

You couldn't deny that there was something definitely blooming in between you and Aemond, he would often throw appreciative comments in your way, which made your belly pool up with heat.

You noticed how he wanted to stay by your side, physical touch lingering, he had suggested that you 3 should go grocery shopping, and you found it odd considering he could literally order his clients to fetch them for him, but you agreed anyways, using it as a chance to get outside and let Aenys interact with other people. Aemond was heavily against sending him to the daycare, because he was scared for his son, it was understandable but it also set Aenys behind a bit.

“Mama, I want this!” you hear a kid yell at his mom and you watch as she refuses it gently, telling him no and that she will buy him the next time they come back here, and the kid just pouted, you chuckled at the sight.

You turned your attention to Aenys who was staring at the scene too, and you realised how he was in a daze once again as well, you looked at Aemond who also seemed to notice.

Aenys quickly ran in another direction and you panicked and almost ran after him before he was back in front of you again, grabbing the same toy the other child had grabbed earlier and showing it to you. “Ma-” he cut himself short before pushing the toy to show you “I want this!” he says and Aemond was confused at first and he was about to agree to buy that toy for Aenys until you butted in, “No Aenys, we can't buy it right now! We'll buy it next time when we come back here okay?” you say and he smiles sheepishly at you, before pretending to pout and put the toy back in a random shelf.

You chuckled at the childishness, he just wanted to feel the same type of experience that others do. Aemond knew it was just you both playing around, he didn't miss the way Aenys almost called you his mother, and it spurred him on further, the way you acted as a genuine mother.

Those type of random moments became often, and it pushed Aemond further and further to the edge, the way you would act like such a perfect mom made him want to bend you over any surface and fuck you, filling you up with his cum.

Aemond then suddenly started joining for lunch, he would usually eat at his office, but he made extra effort to drive home so he could eat with his 'family.' He loved your cooking, you made it taste like home, he would watch as you cut smaller pieces of fruits and vegetables for Aenys so he could properly chew and eat. He imagined how perfect you would be as his wife and like an official mother to his child, or better, children, all of these small things were pushing him to the edge

And soon it would push him off it.

Aemond cursed himself when he drove through the rain, already running late, he looked at his watch and read the time, it was 10PM, the meeting in the afternoon stretched over two hours long which set back the rest of his schedule by a lot, he quickly parked his hair before making his way inside his house, open the door with the extra key carried before shutting it close.

“Look Aenys! Dada's here.” he heard you say and he was immediately spun around, he didn't expect you to stick around this long, but then he realised it was raining heavily and you always went by taxi, there probably would've been no taxi available in this weather.

“Aenys didn't go to sleep yet?” he asks, undoing the suit he was wearing before throwing it on the couch, approaching both of you, taking Aenys into his arms.

“He wanted to wait until you got home, he was worried for you, though he seems tired hmm.” you pinch his nose playfully and he scrunches it up, “I'm not twired…” he says but then yawns earning a chuckle from both you and Aemond.

“I'll put him to sleep, you go freshen up.” you say and Aemond nods, giving him back to you.

Fuck everything about that interaction felt too domestic.

And Aemond had lost his resolve.

He found you sitting on the couch, scrolling through something, he sat down next to you.

“What are you doing?” he asks and you look at him, “Trying to book cabs, but there are none available at the moment due to the weather.” you sigh before placing your phone down.

Aemond should've offered to drive you home but instead he offered to let you stay.

“You know you can stay over, I do not mind it.” he says and you look at him “Really? I don't wanna be a bother—”

“Oh please, you are never a bother.” he cuts you off and smiles at you. “You should freshen up for the night, you've been here since morning.” he says but you pout. “I do not have any clothes.” you say and he simply shrugs, “You can wear mine.” he pushes the buttons, wondering how far he can get away with it, he knew offering you to let you stay at his house already broke the employee boss relationship, hell, the moment he desired you was when it already broke.

“Mhm okay! Where is the guest bathroom?” you ask and he shakes his head, “The water heater is broken in that one, it's better if you use the attached bathroom in my room.” he says.

The water heater wasn't broken.

He was lying.

And you believed him.

He watched as you got up and made your way to his room, which was right next to Aenys', considering he has to react if something happens to him, he followed you inside opening the cupboards and giving you his hoodie and fresh pair of boxers which you thanked him for.

He left the room to give you privacy, but oh gods his mind was racing with all the thoughts.

He paced around, trying to contain himself, and he stood there in front of the door.

And then you opened it.

His hoodie reached to your thighs, and you looked at him, shocked to find him in front of the door, lips parted.

He snapped.

He quickly pushed you inside and shut the door behind you, slamming his lips against yours, and kissed you fervent hunger, you stumbled back and you almost fell but he caught you by your waist and pushed deeper into the kiss, moving his lips hungrily against your.

He pulls away, silently giving you a way out if you need it.

You should refuse this.

You should push him away.

But you don't, instead you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a deeper kiss, he groans when he feels you kiss him back, he pulls away once again, before grabbing you by your arm and pushing you onto the bed, making you fall on your back, your hoodie rising up, revealing your stomach, which he kissed lovingly before he pulled the hoodie even more further up, exposing your tits and pressing kisses to the nipples, causing you to gasp.

He pulls the hoodie off of you completely, and you raise your hands to assist him, he pulls off his shirt too, exposing his naked chest, and you bite your lip at the view, next he takes the boxes off you, doing the same, leaving you both completely bare to the room.

He pushes you upwards to the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your face, neck, collar bones and valley between your breasts, his hands grab the flesh of your tits before he kneads them, massaging them, thumbs flicking the nipples making you arch your back.

One of his hands trails down to your core, dipping into the heat, he outright moans when he finds you practically leaking, collecting the arousal and bringing it upwards your bud. Rubbing small circles which makes you gasp.

He pulls his hand away and brings it up to lick at the wetness that has accumulated on the fingers, humming in satisfaction before he pressed kisses which travelled downwards until his mouth stopped right at your core, giving a small kiss to it to, you shivered when you felt his hot breath against it, the way the air he exhaled would hit your clit. He kissed the inner part of your thighs first, making you needy with want, wishing he'd just take you into his mouth.

And then he does, his tongue strides upwards from your opening to your clit, giving you one long lick before he captures your clit with his mouth, suckling on it, causing you moan his name loudly, both of his hands wrap around your thighs and he pulls them further apart, his fingers digging into the flesh as he hungrily devours your cunt, tongue flicking the bud constantly, you grip his hair and buck your hips, practically rutting against his face, you felt his tongue travelling down and lick at the wetness, the tip of his nose pushing against your clit, you felt your core tighten as the movement of his tongue sped up, causing you to topple over the edge and your orgasm hit you like a truck, making you whine loudly.

He greedily licked everything up before he placed wet kisses on your thighs, the residue of your wetness sticking to them before he sat back on his knees between your parted legs, you watched as he got up slightly, making his cock come into view.

Your eyes widened slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by Aemond, this stroked his ego very much.

He was big, bigger than any you've seen before, it was pale with a tip that was flushed pink due to the blood pumping, oozing precum out of it, he pumped his cock in his hand to ease the area, coating his dick in his own precum before he positioned it against your entrance, you bit your lip in anticipation but then you felt him slide against your folds, covering his dick in your wetness as well before slapping your clit with the tip of his dick, making you whimper.

He then lined himself against your entrance and pushed in, and you arched your back at the stretch, it was so delicious, you felt so full.

He leaned on top of you and gave you a passionate kiss, you could taste yourself on his tongue, making you taste the tanginess, he supported his weight on his elbows which were on either side of you, gripping yours, fingers intertwined with yours. You were locked in a missionary position, a position that felt intimate.

Then you felt him move, thrusting in and out at a brutal speed, causing you to moan his name, the thrusts made you jolt up the bed, breasts bouncing due to the force emitted from it, his grip tightening as he grunted on top of you, rutting into your wet heat, his hair dropped his shoulders, cascading around his face, and you gasped at how godly his looked like this.

Then you felt his tip hit your gspot, constantly, which caused you moan extremely loudly, “Fuckk! Ahh~ Aemond!” you mewled, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, his hand left one of yours to cover your mouth as he continuously slammed into you.

“Shh, be quiet, or he'll wake up.” he whispers, referring to Aenys who was sleeping in the next room and you nodded, you felt him pull his hand away but his thumb traced your lips, you opened your mouth which made him put his thumb inside and you sucked on him, and you felt him groan, then he pulled it out, hand going back to grip yours, and you bit your lip to hold back your moans from slipping out.

You felt your core begin to tighten again and it snapped once more, causing you to arch you back, pushing your breasts against his chest and he muttered 'fuck' feeling the way you clenched around him.

His thrusts begin to grow sloppy and lose their rhythm, indicating that he was close, “Fuckk, I'm gonna cum inside you.” he says and you whine, “I'm going to get you pregnant, watch you grow round with my kid…” he growls, thrusting into you again and again, “You're going to give Aenys little siblings, You will, right? He looked so lonely, I think he'd appreciate that.” he grunts and you nod quickly, mind too hazy to even comprehend or acknowledge the complications behind you agreeing to this.

“Good girl.” he says before he finishes inside you, and paints your walls white, shooting up his seed far into you, riding his orgasm out.

You felt him pull out and thought that was the end until he pushed you over onto your back, and sat on his knees, he grabbed your waist and pulled it up, and you immediately switched to supporting your on your knees as you arched your back, stretching like a cat, your hands on the side of you.

He groaned when he watched his cum drip down your thighs before he scooped it up and put it in his mouth, tasting your combined essence.

He was still hard.

So he wasted no time, shoving himself back inside you and you whined at the way your walls felt overstimulated, not knowing if you can handle one more orgasm consistently.

He sheathed himself inside your walls, and moved with fervent speed like before, his balls slapping against your thighs, the room was filled with erotic noises, he gripped your waist for support, until his hand travelled slightly upwards, catching one of your tits before gripping it tightly, and rolling the nipple in between his fingers.

“I can't wait to watch them swell.” he grunts.

“You'd look so pretty with my child in your belly, the way your tummy will swell? Gods fuck, that is a vision.” he moans

“Look at you, taking my cock so well, like you are meant to.” he notes, thrusting in and out, watching as the previous cum leaks out.

He clicks his tongue

“So much is going to waste, tsk, it's okay I'll fill you up again, make sure you get pregnant.” he groans and you moan, “Ye-yes fill me up.” you say, and he smirks at that, “Good girl, taking my cock like one.” he leans against you, your back pressing to his chest as he leaves kisses on the back of your neck, and you once again, topple over the edge for the third time.

He finishes too, inside you again.

You both fall besides each other on the bed, and realise the weight of the situation after the adrenaline and excitement of the moment fades away and the breathing becomes more stable.

“I- fuck.” Aemond begins not knowing what to say and you lay there quietly.

“Listen, ever since that day you walked in, I felt some type of pull towards you, I wasn't sure what it was, but it was as if we were meant to me, and I couldn't ignore the feelings brewing inside me.” you watch as he speaks.

“I- to put it in simple words, I fell in love with you. I really did, though it's fine if you do not share the same feelings, we can go back to pretending this never happened.” he confesses.

“I am in love with you too.” you confess, “I pushed these feelings away, because it wasn't appropriate.” you say and he looks at you this time.

Silence falls between you two.

A comfortable silence.

He pulls you closer and wraps his arms around you, hugging you, and you hug him back, the he places loving kisses atop you.

You felt something hard pressing against your inner thighs and you looked down, shocked to find him hard again, you chuckle.

“Again?” you tease and he playfully glares at you, “Yeah, you're so fucking irresistible.” he kisses your neck, hips mindlessly grinding against you. “I'm so sensitive.” you pout, but you get an idea, you quickly push him onto his back before getting on top of him, and then crawling down in between his legs, before taking his cock in your hand.

“Fuck!” he moans when he feels your warm hand wrap around it, before you gently tug on it, pumping your hand up and down, watching as the precum leaks out, you collect some with your tongue, poking the slight hole making him groan and grip the side of your head.

You trail kisses down to his balls, before giving them wet kisses as your hand pumps his cock, you lick a long stride up his length before taking him in your mouth, as best as you can, hands resting on his thighs to balance yourself.

You bob your head up and down, swirling the the tongue around him, pulling away time to time to breath before descending onto him once again, the grip on the side of your head tightened and you watched as he sat up slightly leaning on his elbow, before his hips thrusted upwards, and so you let him take control.

He collected your hair into a makeshift pony before gripping the back of your head tightly and thrusting his entire length into your mouth, the tip teaching the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, causing tears to well up in your eyes, you closed them and tried to breathe through your nose as he thrusted upwards and fast, essentially fucking your throat.

You felt him twitch slightly in your mouth, knowing he was close, you sucked him and hollowed your cheeks, he threw his head back at that, he felt steady pleasure rising within him before such a force expelled from his body, causing him to peak, shooting out ropes and ropes after cum into your mouth, you felt it hit the back of your throat, causing you to swallow unknowingly, before he slightly pulled out, cause the remaining to fall in your mouth.

He pulled out completely and watched your face, flushed and hair dishevelled, you held his cum in your mouth, waiting for his command, “Swallow.” and you did, obeying him, opening your mouth to show that there was none left, he groaned as he watched the remnants of his seed drip from the side of your mouth before he collected it with his index finger and shoved it back into your mouth, and you click his finger clean, he grunted before you upwards and kissing you, tasting himself in your mouth, hands squeezing your ass before he gave one of them light slaps, causing you to wince.

You pulled away and breathed heavily, he smiled down at you, before he left the bed to clean both of you up, collecting the clothes and getting dressed before he pulled beside him in the bed, going to sleep while hugging your form.

You dreaded the next morning, wondering how you'll explain your relationship to Aenys, you woke up to an empty bed, you read the time, it's was just 8AM, you felt sad but then you quickly got up and went outside finding Aemond and Aenys awake, sitting at the table conversing, your heart warmed at the sight, Aenys spotted you and ran over to you, lifting his arms up, asking you to silently to carry him, and you did, you picked him up before placing a small kiss to his forehead.

“Mama!” he said and you froze, before you looked at Aemond, who gave you a small smile and nodded and your eyes softened at it, it seems he had done the explaining.

“Mama! Mama!” Aenys grabbed your face making you look at him and you chuckled, “Yes Aenys, it's mama.” you say and he smiles brightly.

“I'll go get ready for work.” Aemond says, getting up from the spot he was sitting on and coming over to both of you before he pressed a kiss to Aenys forehead, and doing the same to you and going inside his room and getting ready.

You put Aenys down on his chair and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, you made simple eggs on toast, and just on the time, Aemond came out of his room, looking all ready and you placed three plates down, along with fruits cut into small pieces of Aenys.

“I made breakfast.” you say and Aemond smiles at you, before sitting down and the three of you ate breakfast.

Applying for this job was the best thing you've ever done.

Who knew your life would change the course of it in the span of just a few months.

There were other things to discuss, and you knew it was plaguing Aemond's mind as well, but you both decided it will be best if discussed later and so you both basked in this moment, listening to Aenys babbles.

“So i hwave a mom now rightt?” he asks Aemond who nods, “Are you happy?” he asks and Aenys nods quickly, “Yesh! Aenys is wery hwappy! But…” he trails off and you feel your heartbeat quicken.

“I want a sibling too…” he murmurs

Oh gods.

Your eyes flickered over to Aemond who stared at you, you blush and look away as you remembered the details of last night.

“I wwant a swister… ! or a bwother!!! Hmm any is fine…” he babbles on, not knowing what he is asking for.

You look at Aemond again, who didn't seem to take his eye off you at all.

He smirks.

Oh fuck.

You quickly get up and collect the empty plates before going behind the kitchen counter and placing them in the sink, washing your hands, focusing your attention on them, until you felt arms wrapped around your waist before one trailed upwards towards your breast giving it squeeze, you quickly looked up to see Aenys was watching until you realised he was nowhere to be seen.

“He's in his playroom.” Aemond whispered in your ear, grinding slowly against your ass.

“Heard that? He wants a sibling so badly, surely you can't deny him right?” he asks, pinching your nipples through the fabric causing you to gasp.

He places kisses down your neck, before he spins you around and kisses you on the mouth, making you wrap your arms around his shoulder. He pulls away before kissing you on the cheek.

His phone rings and he notices the time, 9:15AM, he was running late which was the first for him, and it was his assistant calling him.

“Fuck, mood spoiler.” he grunts before shoving his phone back in his pocket before placing a kiss to your mouth once again.

“Don't think I'm done with you yet, it's gonna be one hell of a ride when I get back home.” he presses one final kiss to your neck before pulling himself away from you, granted it was so fucking difficult considering how he wanted to fuck you on the kitchen counter just moments ago.

You nod and follow him to the front door.

“Have a nice day, Aemond.” you say, and he smiles at you, coming to kiss you but then Aenys comes running towards you both.

“Is dada going to work?? BYE DADAAA” he screams and Aemond chuckles, before waving a small 'bye' to Aenys, and leaving from the front door.

He barely left and he already couldn't wait to get back home from work.

And you gulped, nervous in anticipation.

Oh seven hells.

———

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond x reader smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #reader insert #x reader smut #hotd x reader #x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fic

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steelbluehome · 3 months ago

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From Fear and Loathing: Closer to the Edge on Facebook

Heading to a “Hands Off!” protest this Saturday? Here’s everything you need to know — your rights, safety tips, and what to do if arrested.

On Saturday, April 5, people across the United States will gather for a coordinated day of resistance. From major cities to small towns, the “Hands Off!” protests are about drawing a hard line — against political overreach, creeping authoritarianism, and policies that strip away our rights and dignity.

Whether you’re marching in New York City, Dallas, Chicago, or a rural square in Nebraska, your presence matters. So does your preparation.

Here’s your nationwide guide to showing up — and staying safe while doing it.

KNOW YOUR RIGHTS (AND WRITE THEM ON YOUR ARM)

Before you arrive: Write the local legal support hotline number on your arm in permanent marker. In many cities, National Lawyers Guild (NLG) chapters will operate hotlines and send legal observers.

Say: “I am exercising my right to remain silent. I want a lawyer.”

Ask: “Am I being detained or am I free to go?”

If detained, remain silent.

If not, walk away calmly.

Legal observers (often in green hats/vests) are there to document police behavior — not to represent you legally. You can notify them if you witness abuse or misconduct.

WHAT TO BRING

Pack like you’re staying awhile and planning for anything:

Water and snacks

Face mask, hand sanitizer, and sunscreen

Phone with passcode lock (NOT Face ID/fingerprint)

External battery pack

Cash (for food, transit, emergencies)

Printed emergency contacts

Comfortable shoes, weather-appropriate clothing

Goggles or saline drops (in case of tear gas, depending on region)

Don’t bring:

Weapons (or anything that could be construed as one)

Illegal substances

Anything you wouldn’t want seized or photographed by law enforcement

STAY SAFE, STAY CALM, STAY NON-VIOLENT

Stick together. Stay with your group. Have a plan if separated.

Avoid confrontation. Ignore counter-protesters and agitators.

Film what matters. You have the legal right to record public events, including police activity — but don’t interfere.

De-escalate when possible. Your goal is to be heard, not baited.

Watch your surroundings. Know where you are and how to exit if needed.

If arrested:

Don’t resist.

Don’t talk beyond name and birthdate.

Wait for a lawyer.

Don’t sign anything without legal counsel.

PROTECT YOUR DATA

Phones are tools — and vulnerabilities.

Turn off Face ID and fingerprint unlock. Use a passcode.

Consider airplane mode during risky moments.

Back up photos/videos or use live stream apps like Instagram or Twitch to preserve footage.

Use encrypted messaging apps like Signal.

RESOURCES BY REGION

While every city differs, these national orgs often have local chapters or partners at major protests:

National Lawyers Guild: nlg.org

ACLU: aclu.org/know-your-rights

Mutual Aid Networks: Search “[Your City] Mutual Aid”

Bail Funds Directory: bailfunds.github.io

Legal Hotlines: Often listed on local protest pages or announced by organizers day-of

TRANSPORT + ACCESSIBILITY

Plan ahead: Some roads and transit lines may close or reroute.

Carpool or take transit when possible.

If you need ADA accommodations, contact local organizers in advance or ask staff at arrival points.

THIS IS BIGGER THAN A MARCH

This isn’t just a protest. It’s a warning flare — and a promise. That we won’t stand by while our rights are stripped. That we won’t let apathy win. That we see what’s happening — and we’re not afraid to raise hell, peacefully and powerfully.

So come prepared.

Come together.

And don’t let them scare you into silence.

Stay safe. Stay loud.

#april 5th #protest #hands off #us politics #usa politics #stay safe #protest safely #hands off protest #april 5 2025

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searenbound · 1 year ago

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Based on this post it was really fun to explore the concepts in this one

If you liked it please consider leaving a small tip through my cash app I'm trying to save up for nail tech classes and every little bit helps

Warnings: non-con/dub-con, reader is bullied briefly at the beginning, oral(female receiving), afab reader with she/her pronouns, vaginal fingering and penetration, omegaverse

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

“H-hey! Stop!” (Yn) yelled, knowing her pleas would fall on uncaring ears as the pack of girls shoved into someone’s room.

“Oh stop crying! We’ll let you out soon, probably”

She could practically hear the dismissive shrug and cruel smirk the leader of that little click likely gave.

“I guess that depends on how long Bakugou’s workout takes, you know how Alphas are! It'll probably only be an hour, maybe two? Hope he believes you when you tell him you weren't trying to steal from him!” they laughed, jamming the door shut and leaving (Yn) alone with nothing but her thoughts in the seemingly empty, strong-smelling room.

What did she do to deserve this? Whatever it was it couldn’t possibly warrant anything like this!

She was just a simple Omega, just trying to get a good education so she could get a good job, what did she do wrong to earn such scornful treatment?

Why di—

“The hell are you doing here?”

A heavy, labored, and husky voice sounded from behind her. She froze, her own voice trapped in her throat as she turned towards it to find the Alpha in question rising from his bed. His face flushed and hard to read as he observed her.

He knows her, well sort of? She's in a few of his classes. Always sticking to the corners of the room hoping no one noticed her, but he had.

He took note of every detail, head to toe, from the way her hair fell and complimented her face to the way she walked with a little sway in her hips.

He had wanted to talk to her at least once before his rut had started, but he never got the chance, and now that choice had been taken from them both.

“I uh, I don't know? I got s-shoved in here a-and.…” she stammered and rambled, getting his attention again.

But he couldn't focus on her words though. Her strawberries and cream scent was too sweet and distracting for him to ignore. In a desperate attempt to stave off his growing lust for the oblivious Omega, he tried to subtly palm himself quietly but he groaned at the contact making her jump.

He sounded pained, and her Omega instincts kicked in and brought her to his side quickly to see what was wrong and if she could help.

It was the biggest mistake she could have made. As soon as she was near, she could smell the scent of a frantic, rutting Alpha. It quickly became apparent the type of danger she was in quickly, but not as quick as Bakugou was.

He, in a matter of seconds, had torn through her clothes. Too far gone to ask any more questions or explain himself, too out of it to even notice her fearful begging for him to reconsider his actions.

All he could hear was that pleading tone and god was it easy to imagine that pretty voice begging him to breed her. A pretty little sound that made his knot twitch and ache. God, he needs to breed her.

He has to, needs to so badly, he couldn't stop himself when she smelled so danm good. He was going to breed her, but first, he had to make sure she was ready for him.

He shuddered at the thought, pinning her hips to his bed before laving his tongue over her sex, trying to put a taste to the sugary scent. This was the pussy he’d own. The one his Omega was in possession of. His, all his and he’ll make sure she knows it.

It didn’t matter that he’d never introduced himself properly to her, there’s plenty of time to know his mate better after this.

She tried to get him to stop. Squirming in his grip and tugging at his hair in a futile attempt to get him away from her, as she whimpered “Please, don’t”.

Only to be interrupted by a growl and a finger pushed into her already sopping wet cunt.

In his lust-altered state, her actions seemed like she was just impatient. Her plea was easily written off as her trying to beg him not to be a tease.

“Fucking god, you’re so damn wet, you want it bad don’t you?” he groans adding a second finger, and it must have sounded like some sort of sick taunt to her. His fingers thrusting and rubbing against her inner walls, unwanted and unwavering, but pleasurable in a way that felt like the deepest betrayal.

Her body was welcoming his actions and he seemed to be enjoying his perverse power over her. His lips pressed against her clit, kissing it before sucking and licking on the sensitive little bundle of nerves.

Pushing her closer to the edge of ecstasy. Closers to the cliff’s edge that she didn’t think she’d survive if she fell from it. It’d leave her broken, useless, and unable to fight his advances, but could she fight this anyway?

He seemed to have no problem overpowering her, seemed unbothered by her begging and feeble attempts to tug him off of her.

Should she just accept her fate? Should she just let herself fall apart and be his toy for the time being?

Her body felt hot and the little bit of internal thread he’s been toying with tangled, knotted, and pulled tighter and tighter until it snapped with a sobbing cry and blanking mind.

She clung tightly to him, not bothering to fight him when he kissed her and lined his thick cock with her entrance. Too far gone to even think about fighting this.

“P-please, at least be gentle with me, I um… I’ve never—”

“You’re still a virgin?” he cut her off, the gravity of their situation finally settling in his mind and he would have backed off. Apologizing profusely for how he behaved, how he let himself be taken by his rut.

She was probably waiting until she was more established to find herself a mate, and in a moment of selfish desperation he almost ruined her. He really did want to back off and let her go but…

“I— d-don’t you want me?”

But her instincts had kicked in and his hesitation must have read as rejection because she looked hurt.

Why did it hurt? She hadn’t wanted this, she didn’t want this!

But it hurts, it hurts so bad, tears started to prick up at her lashes.

Her body was going into heat because of him, and now he doesn’t want her?!

She was being rejected! She was being refused as an Omega and it hurts so much! Why would he be so cruel?

In reality, he doesn’t know what he was meant to do, he was no good at this.

No good at consoling words or gentleness, but he was good at expressing himself through his actions.

So he silenced her with one smooth roll of his hips, sinking into her until he was buried to the hilt.

Forcing back his growl and letting out a deep rumble of a purr in an attempt to assure her she would be safe sharing this first with him. He was determined to stay in control of his body through this, to touch her the way she wanted him to.

He was determined to force himself to be gentle, to slow his thrusts and take his time with her and…

“A-alpha”

Oh fuck.

He swallowed thickly, his pace quickening slightly. He didn’t know if he could keep this gentle facade for her if she wouldn’t even put up a fight against him. She’s being too accepting, too cute for him not to ruin thoroughly.

“I-it feels good! Feels— aha!”

Fuck it.

He took up the ruthless pace he was much more accustomed to and moved a hand to play roughly with her clit and a growl slipped out passed his lips. He couldn’t hold back after all, no, it was more like he just wouldn’t anymore.

He was allowing himself to get drunk off her whimpers and moans, taking pleasure from her blank and dazed expression as she practically crumbled under him.

“Are you, fuckin’ hell, you going to cum already?” He breathed against her ear, groaning at the resulting shiver that wreaked her body.

“You’re clenching around me so tightly, you wanted me to fuck you senseless like this, huh? Wanted to cum my knot, didn’t you?”. He grunted and she couldn’t find the words to respond.

She hadn’t wanted this at first, but now? She didn’t want to want this, but her legs wrapped themselves around his waist, and her nails clawed into his back of their own accord, her mouth ran without hesitation or thought.

“Please! Want it so bad! I want your knot Alpha!”.

She cried out and was silenced with a kiss and the overwhelming sensation of being pushed past the edge and stuck in that blissful free fall as he knotted her.

They stayed tied for what felt like hours before he could safely pull out. In truth it was only minutes, but the conversation they needed to have afterward made the wait unbearable.

Only for it to be as simple as explaining how she ended up trapped in with him, and a promise that he’ll never stop working to earn her forgiveness for this. Because no, it doesn’t matter how this happened or ended, he still did something awful to her and he won’t forgive himself until he’s made sure she’s living a happy fulfilling life with him.

The first step is tearing the heads off her soon-to-be former bullies.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader smut #katsuki x reader smut #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader smut #tw non con #tw dubious consent #tw omegaverse #tw bullying

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pjackk · 1 year ago

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If u have any conections in the online community please let me know and contact me cuz i need to find out how to buy Www.TheSadTruth.Net to tell my story for the first time on my own terms one last time wich despite it all still rings true even though i was built fucked up and my mind was made to be horible from the very start and ive been havign a hard time lately and realy strugling with my problems and shit and they raised the price of the green juice lime botles si uts realy hard for me to even aford basic necesities of my shitty excuse for a life i cant even make my #FamouisCubanBurban cocktale anymore to go with my cigars im not even able to aford a good stogie every day no more and ive had to downgrade from pappy 23 to pappy 20 fuck my shitty ass life and i just need to be able to let everybody kno how much they have skull fucked me in the ass all the time epecially since the feds and the mens in black at the variuos "Federal" criminal agencies got involved with my phone gig they i was honetly trying to find new friends with my phone and i didnt even mean to take nobodys money or nothin they just gave me the gift cards as a gift for me since they liked me alot so now im on my l;ast legs and cant aford rent anymore since my landlord #BeheadTheLandlors is trying to kick me out of my mental health meditation pad that i need for tranquilaty and self care in hawaiey not to mention #BigGov is not even leting me throw grenades for fishing no more so i guess that was my last ffcking bluefin i will ever get so they are making it super hard for me to even live at a base level and i realy need help and suport u can send me cash on my app called Cash App at $pjack9 if u want to mutual aid me up i will not forget my friends if i get out of this slump but i miht not ever post again since i will be long gone so fuck it i think its time i hoist the white flag bvut my enemys dont even want to see me a live even if im sitting cuteley like a puppy dog they will still blow my iron skull off at the drop of a top hat so just keep me posted if there is anything U would like to serve me with i realy like: Twunks, jocks, tweekers, scratchoffs, CigarPigs, MoneyPigs, PiggyBanks, and Goon Hunniez so dm me yo junk imediately if u want to make me feel so good

The wolves are at my fucking door and I cant keep them out.

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yanderemommabean · 24 days ago

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A bean asked if I could make a post on how to contact me! So here’s the main ways! For commissions or even if you wanna just send something funny/ show me your animals!

Gmail: [email protected]

Discord: Yanderemommabean

And if you just wanna donate/ see what I use for commissions-

Ko-fi (it goes directly to my PayPal which takes an even bigger cut, those assholes) : Yanderemommabean

Cash App: $YandereMomma

#commission info #comission #mommabean #ok to rb #ok to reblog #ok to interact #ok to ask stuff

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alkalineleak · 4 months ago

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Commissions are open on Ca$h app and paypa!l!! If anyone ks interested please DM me! 3/3 slots are currently opened!

1. You can contact me on discord (aaaabattery), Instagram (crisanto.blooms), Twitter (battsleak) or Tumblr (alkalineleak)! I can't promise I'll respond immediately, but I will try to respond as quickly as possible.

2. I am chronically I'll and experience fatigue, this means that commissions may closed or take a long time to complete. Please be patient and kind.

3. Please be respectful! I will not tolerate rude behavior, and reserve the right to deny or cancel your commission. If this behavior continues, I will block and blacklist you.

4. Do not use my art for any commercial use such as merchandise, book coverage, etc. Profiles and banners are fine since it's personal use, just credit me! The same goes for reposting the art I commissioned, just tag me an or credit me!

5. I reserve the right to post and include all the art I make into my personal portfolio since I still own it. If you don't want the art posted, please tell me and I'll hear you out!

6. Do not submit my art to any AI or AI engine, I do not appreciate my work being stolen and claimed by someone else.

7. Listed prices are the base price, they can increase based on additional details and complexity of the commission.

8. I have every right to deny a commission if I do not meet the skill level required (as to protect customers) or falls under subjects that I will not do.

9. Please provide visual references when commissioning me as it makes my work a lot easier and means I can better fulfill your request and avoid unnecessary mistakes.

10. During the process of commissioning, I will attempt to regularly send updates so that you may request alters or changes. Having to change any major parts of the commission post sketch phase (which I will approve with you) will enquire a fee. Once a piece is past the sketch phase, only minor edits are allowed for free.

11. Do not rush me, but if a commission is time-sensitive, give me two weeks in advance. If you consistently pressure me on completing a commission when I have clearly stated my limits, I reserve the right to cancel or deny a commission.

12. In the rare event that I feel I cannot complete a commission at all, I can give a partial refund depending on how much I've completed. (I will keep 25% of the total cost minimum.)

13. When I am finished, I will message you full res png files of the work, and watermarked .jpegs for social media posting.

FAILURE TO COMPLY WITH A TOS CAN RESULT IN BEING DROPPED, HAVING YOUR COMMISSION CANCELLED OR DENIED, AND BLACKLISTED.

Higher res images of the drawings under the cut

#batterys drawing again #commission #art commissions #dms open #art comms open #art comms info #commisions open #digital commisions #digital illustration #artist comms #comms info #art commisions

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11cupids-tarot11 · 10 months ago

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What does this person wish to break "No Contact" and say?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

What does the person on your mind have to say to you right now? Channeled messages from no contact situations ~ closer messages.

1 -> 3

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Cupid's Master-List

I have 5 open slots for private readings available for purchase!!

My Patreon! (Coming soon)

My YouTube Channel!

Tips are appreciated!

Cash app and PayPal payments only!

$cashtag- minnieplant3

PayPal @- janellec03

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 1- The Chariot, Page of Coins, Eight of Swords Reversed, Queen of Wands, Nine of Cups, Eight of Cups Reversed.

Okay so for some of y'all I feel like y'all might not like this person resurfacing but I'm reading these cards intuitively right now and the eight of swords which was upright but continuously fixed itself reversed so I felt like I should leave it just makes me feel this is a person you know already, maybe they've been popping up in your tarot readings lately or something? Lol. Idk if you're happy or not about their presence but I just heard they're very horny for you lol. They really like I think, you're like the queen of wands and you shine with or without a partner and they really like that about you but I think it's hard to grab your attention because you're just so in tune with yourself and what you want, because the queen of wands!!!

Okay so you've got the Chariot and I feel like this person will say something to you soon, you might get a text? I think they just can't go without no contact much longer, or for others of you who don't know who this person is they're going to be coming into your life soon maybe, maybe super unexpectedly I'm getting.

He's working on his finances with the page of coins, they're working a lot of maybe studying a lot right now, I'm getting maybe you're interfering cause they've been thinking about you a lot lol. You could also be working a lot right now.

I was scared you might not like this person but with the Eight of Swords Reversed it makes me feel like I was just channeling your person's energy. Maybe you guys ended on bad terms? Had a falling out and this person just can't stop thinking about you since? Maybe they plan to apologize soon because they feel so nervous to me lol.

I think they're still attracted to you despite whatever went down between you two and that's what is still bothering them, maybe they never even confessed for some.

For others I feel like this person will be out of your league if you don't know who this is, they'll think they're not on the same level as you mentally they're a big bully to themselves so if you like this person you'll have to show them this, it might take them just a little bit longer to confess they like you if you guys are in the talking stages or enter the talking stage.

With the eight of cups Reversed I feel like some of you might've even outgrown this person, you've entered or you're entering a new part of life that just doesn't concern them, it's like they no longer serve you or the direction in life you're going and you know this so you might automatically reject them?

I hope this resonated! I love you so much!! See you later pookie!! 💋

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 2- Death, Ten of Swords, Ace of Swords, The World, Knight of Wands, Five of Swords, The Star in Reversed.

Hi my lovely pile 2's! I hope you're doing amazing! ♡

So with the death card I feel like your person has gone through a transformation and wants a different approach with you, not just a new beginning. I feel like they understand more now what they want out of life through the challenges they've faced and they're ready to face you now and they want to communicate this. I feel like this person is basically on their knees lol like you have the upper hand right now and this person is crawling back towards you on their knees really.

I think they want to court you, treat you with respect. They want to give you flowers and tell you how much you mean to them. They would value a moment of your time at a coffee shop even for just five minutes I feel like.

Aw this person is having a hard time letting go of you. I think they feel kind of sad lol, like they hardly even want to talk about it. So this person is brainstorming how to come at you differently, how to bring a whole different world, maybe show themselves in a whole different color or light but they want to add not in a weird or fake way, they're not trying to impress you or put on this show but just show you how much they've sliced through such thick mental fog.

With the star in reverse I feel like this person has given up on the connection maybe? Doesn't have much faith 😭 they don't have the confidence nor the right mindset to even think the connection will work or continue. Maybe they're just scared of what you think of them? I think this pile is kind of a lot like 1, their person didn't have much confidence either so if you like this person you should tell them how you feel if you also want this connection. If not, tell them so they can let you go and stop showing up in your readings because I feel like their higher selves is just popping up because they're thinking about you a lot. ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

I think the star represents your energy, I think they know you have an amazing life with or without them so that's what kind of scares them. They know you could easily get any person you want, as you might have a very abundant life as is, love isn't something you stress about and they know this so they're kind of at a loss of how to court you. You might be at the top of your world right now not even focused on anyone but what fulfills you and that's amazing.

I feel like this person knows you have other suitors as well, more than one person trying to cuff you lol so they're like very focused and present on fighting on how they can be the best one maybe. There's something about them that they feel is not as good as others so they feel like they're kinda fighting against that? Lots of swords energy so they think a lot of unwanted thoughts and they could be an Air sign: Gemini, Libra and Aquarius as well.

Okay, I hope this resonated!! I love you so much Angelz 🪽 see you soon! 🙈 ♡

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 3- The Tower, The Magician, The Sun, Page of Cups, Death, Six of Cups.

Hi pile 3!! Hope you're doing amazing my lovelies ♡

So this person feels kind of chaotic tbh lol. I feel like all of these piles had energy vampire energies maybe, energies refusing to move on because this person seems like they're refusing to move on from you lol. Maybe sage? Doing a cleansing ritual is always good, just playing a sound bowl mediation video on YouTube just to really ground yourself and tune in with your own energy! ♡

So this person is trying to make things work in their favor somehow. A message of them really trying to eat their ice cream and cake too you know? With the death card I feel like there was an ending to small minded thinking of this person maybe? With the sun this person wishes you nothing but happiness and they want to tell you this mainly I think! I don't think they have intentions of breaking no contact or reaching out but they do think about you a lot, they are sending you positive energy though. They might smile a lot?

So I think they've really been working on bettering themselves, mentally and physically, they're really working on other things right now. If you were hoping for this person to break no contact I feel like they really won't until they're nice and ready. They feel motivated right now, have a path they like and they're following it, they've had a death moment in their life so they're really focused on moving on and trying new things. Staying in the present and trying not to repeat the past nor stay there for so long.

This person wishes you nothing but the best though, they could be a water sign: Cancer, Pisces and Scorpio, blue might be significant, they could be very emotional and watery. Someone could have a buzz cut or short haircut. I think they hold a lot of emotions for you still even if they don't reach out and tell you! I feel like they finally figured out how to balance everything out without feeling sick and figuring out what fulfills them so they're hoping you're doing the same! ♡

I hope this resonates with you my love! See you soon! Love ya! ♡

#pac tarot #pick a card #spirituality #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarot messages #tarotblr #tarot love reading #pac love reading

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schluttforschlatt · 9 months ago

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Bartender Reader x Patron Schlatt

You’ve had your fair share of working in shitty dive bars, having been in both big cities and small towns

The patrons were always predictable, their life stories printed in the creases around their eyes and mouth

The bigger cities attracted a younger crowd, while the smaller townships collected middle aged farm hands and dock workers

You were currently working two part time jobs: waiting tables at a family owned diner in the morning, and bartending at a sleepy tavern in the evenings

You had your regulars at both establishments, but the bar goers definitely tipped better than the diner guests

Of course there were sleezeballs trying to feel you up at the bar, but you were desperate to make rent and didn’t mind an extra $30 for a light tap on the ass; men are simple creatures after all and you were able to brush it off by the time you were clocking out

However, every Friday night you noticed a solitary young man, gruff expression and wild facial hair with uncharacteristically soft eyes, tucked away in a booth occasionally sharing banter with other bar crawlers

You’d heard stories of him tipping measly dollars to your coworkers, the other bar tenders always disappointed after he would close out his tab and walk out the door

But when it was you cashing him out, he’d slide you a crisp $50 with a subtle wink, and you’d blush whispering a “thank you” every time

This would go on for a few months, him slipping you $100s closer to holidays. The first time, you pleaded with him to keep the money and use it for his own needs and care, but he smiled down at you and shook his head, muttering “you’re too sweet for this place, doll. Tips all yours.”

You came to eventually know him as Jay, who would slink in and order a top shelf whiskey or bourbon, then seat himself in a booth in the far corner of the bar. He would only speak when it came time to pay his tab, unless it was you

He would ask you about your life, what you were studying and why you were passionate about it. He’d ask about your hobbies and interests, offering input if it was something he was familiar with. And of course, he loved it when you’d sit in the booth across from him, scrolling through pictures of your cats at home.

On one occasion, you’d had an actually deep conversation about working two jobs and studying, struggling to find a balance between the three while maintaining a social life and personal interests

You’d become acquaintances with him, and just as you opened up to him, he would open up to you, sharing pictures of his own cats (“I don’t trust someone who doesn’t like cats, there’s just something untrustworthy about it.” He’d say to you one night) and his travels across the states and abroad

One night in particular, he asked about a tattoo you had on your left forearm. You said it was from your favorite video game, which launched the two of you into a passionate conversation about console vs PC, then building your own PCs and rigs

He pulled out his phone and opened the Steam app, eagerly asking to add you as a friend with the possibility of playing together, which you happily obliged

He tipped you $250 that night, his bill originally only $45. That was the largest tip you’d received. There was no physical contact made, nor did he try to feel you up at any point, unlike other reoccurring patrons

The next time he sauntered in, he gave you a shy wave before ordering a whiskey neat, then retiring to the same dim booth. You’d taken notice of his messy hair, the usual Yankees cap missing this evening, and the stressed look on his face

On your break you made your routine appearance at the booth, scooting in with a warm smile. His eyes seemed distant this time, almost anxious. You opened the conversation joking about his missing hat, to which he let out a soft chuckle and cracked a half smile. He indulged about his current woes, how his job was weighing on him and he felt like he was hitting a wall

This was the first time you’d asked about what he did for a living, and suddenly the larger than average tips made sense.

He prattled on about running multiple successful YouTube channels on top of owning several smaller business ventures. He opened up about the podcasts he was apart of, and explained how Patreon patrons were the backbone of his multiple communities. It was endearing to see someone young, close in age to you, express the realities of burnout despite loving your craft

As your lunch conversation came to an end, you boldly asked for his number, if anything just to continue the discussion after your shift

However, he’d do you one better and invite you over to his place after your shift to talk shit about life and play old Nintendo games. He’d still given you his number, of course, but he’d also filled out his contact information with his street address, email, and had taken a silly selfie for the contact photo and poster

As you clocked out that night, he waited for you outside the entrance, scrolling through Reddit

You told him you couldn’t stay too late, as you worked your second (well, first, technically) job in the morning and needed at least a good nap before you’d have to get ready

He was more than happy to offer for you to stay the night at his place, and so you two made the walk to your apartment (you said you were fine to go by yourself, but he insisted on making sure you got to your destinations safe and sound). You opened up the door and invited him in, introducing him to your three cats and leaving them in the small living room while you packed an overnight bag. You could hear needy meows through the hall of your youngest cat, begging this new kind stranger for treats. Once she started, the other two kitties joined in, a chorus of

“I don’t know where your mama keeps them! But if I find them you’ll all get some!” You’d heard him whisper yell, smiling at the thought of this new found friend bonding with the most important things in your life

Once your bag was packed, you locked your bedroom door and waltzed into the cramped kitchen, pulling out a bag of cat treats and handing them to Jay

“I spoil them so give them each a small handful,” you smiled at him, handing the bag over. “But be careful of Mellie, she’ll bit a finger for a treat.” He chuckled and offered a smile back, eyes brighter now than they were at the start of the night

After getting the cats to settle down, you’d scuttle down the stairs of your apartment, and begin your trek to Jay’s

Coincidentally, he only lived a few blocks away, no more than a 15 minute walk. It was brisk outside, and you were hoping the pajama shorts you packed would keep you warm through the night

Once arriving at his condo, he unlocked the door and let you in. His own cats came skittering to the front door, immediately begging you, now the stranger to these cats, for treats of their own

“Guys, leave our guest alone, I know your feeders went off less than an hour ago,” he’d bent down to pet one of his cats, an orange one you recognized as Jambo, before throwing a mouse toy into the hallway, both cats running after it

“Did you want to change? The bathroom is down that hall to the left,” he informed, pointing you in the direction. “I’m gonna get the Wii set up in the living room, so take your time, Doll.” That was a pet name he’d use for you often, and you never thought anything of it, only that he was a nice guy who essentially paid for your groceries and gas in his tips

You smiled and nodded, taking off for the bathroom while he took off his jacket, draping it over the arm of the loveseat

It was a nice condo, you thought, colors fitting together charmingly. Blues and browns accented the walls, along with framed awards and trophies. It wasn’t braggadocious, you thought, but rather cute

You found the bathroom, which was also put together nicely, and began your nightly routine. Once you were changed out of your sticky uniform and with a washed face, you made your way to the living room, socked feet making gentle padding sounds to announce your presence. He turns and smiles at you, a gleam in his eye

“Here, lemme put your bag in my room,” he offers with an extended hand, and you gladly let him store it for later

You plop down on the couch, picking up a Wiimote and securing the wrist strap. You hear heavy steps from behind before a “You really use the wrist strap on these things? Pft-“ he joins you on the couch, you, player two, on the right side, and he, obviously player one, on the right

“Your place looks nice, and I don’t have the money to buy you a new TV if I go too hard in Wii Sports,” you quip back, earning a small laugh from the larger man

He continues to set up Mario Kart, turning back to see if you approve of his choice

“Ain’t worried ‘bout the TV, Doll,” you blush at the use of the pet name again. “Only worried about kicking your ass in Moo Moo Circut.”

It wouldn’t be long until both of you were shit talking each other, subconsciously scooting closer to each other, shrieks and laughs echoing through the room

Jambo and [Redacted] had found their places next to you and Jay, and something about this made you feel at ease, allowing you to loosen up a bit and sink into the comfort of his couch

A few hours had passed, and a handful of circuits had been played before you sheepishly asked for a blanket. He obliged, standing up to grab a giant plush blanket, draping it over your lap, then pulling the slack over his own after sitting back down. He’d throw a sheepish grin your direction after knocking your knees together

He’d subconsciously reach over and rub the spot under the blanket, causing you to gasp at the contact of his cold hand. He’d apologize and withdraw digits, refocusing on the TV screen, but you could see a faint blush begun to crawl up his ears

Another hour or so had passed before you were ready to head to bed, your need for sleep making its presence by intense yawns dragging themselves out in quick succession to one another, then contagiously spreading to Jay

Standing up from the couch and stretching, you’d follow behind the large man, with the cats following behind you, to a decently sized bedroom with a neatly made bed

“Beds all yours, I’ll take the futon,” he’d declare, causing you to blush, and insist he take the bed, and you the futon, but he’d stand firm on his decision. “‘S probably gonna be the only time you’ll sleep on a bed this nice, when you come over, y’know?” The smirk on his face told you everything you needed to know, so you’d nod and climb into the California King, feeling like the distance to himself on the futon was several zip codes away

The bed was indeed comfortable, but you tossed and turned because of how unbelievably cold the room was, the sheets feeling like blankets of ice and snow

Desperate to feel warmth you decided to slink over to the man on the futon, placing a freezing hand on the back of his neck. He jumped at the contact, a string of expletives leaving his mouth, before looking at you with concerned eyes. You bluntly said you were cold, and wanted him to either turn the AC off and give you a few more blankets, or join you. In the bed. The one bed. He gave a dopey grin

“All you had to do was ask, Toots.” And he came, pulling him onto the bed with him. And God, that was the best sleep you’ve ever had

~ lmk if anyone wants like an actual fic of this bc I fear I have motivation ~

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt #jschlatt fanfic #schlatt fanfic #schlatt fluff #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt fic #schlatt fic #schlatt headcanons #jschlatt headcanons

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chris-slut · 11 months ago

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𝐆𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

pairing. cashier!chris x customer!reader

summary. when you walk into your go to 7/11 store, you notice the new cute worker.

warnings. fluff , use of “sweetheart” .

! 3rd person point of view !

a/n. cute little idea i came up with :)))))

a bell rung as you opened the door to your local 7/11. you’ve gone to this specific one since you were a little girl so you know all the workers .

but on this specific day, you noticed a tall brunette boy standing behind the register in a white t shirt and a matching hat. he was tapping his fingers against the counter as he waited for somebody to come up to his station.

you grabbed an arizona lemon tea and bag of chips as you walk up to the register and place your 2 items down. you snap the boy out of his trance as he offers you a sweet smile. “how’s your day?” he asks while scanning your items. you shrug “it’s good,” you reply and he nods while placing the items into plastic bag.

“how come i’ve never seen you around here before?” you ask while you hand him cash from your purse. he puts your money in the register while collecting change. “just started, today’s my first day.” you move your head as you look over at his shiny name tag— chris.

you leave that note in your head while you watch him fiddle with the coins in his palm. he hands you the silver coins before speaking up—

“so, anything else you need sweetheart?” the boy asks as he leans against the marble. you shake your head while grabbing your bag. chris smiles at you while watching you put the silver coins into your purse.

“actually,” you stop yourself while grabbing your phone out. chris watches you with a grin on his face while you open the contact app. “can i get your number?” he nods quickly while grabbing your phone and typing his number in. he hands you the phone and you shut it off.

“thank you,” you mutter watching him smiling softly. “of course sweetheart.” chris whispers while your cheeks light up into a soft pink. you grab the bags as you wave to the beautiful brunette boy, walking out of the 7/11.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nathan doe #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff

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rene-darling · 10 months ago

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Jjk men redflags

These aren't all original I was inspired by some TikTok's I saw as well as some comments,

...toji...gojo...sukuna...

Toji, does not believe in nor agrees with signing a prenup, "if you loved me you won't make me sign it," "babe-, who even does prenups nowadays" "your acting like you're all high and mighty, and above me- not just in bed, but as a person jus cuh you got a couple more doller bills then me-"

Gojo, will make you sign a prenup, it's like he doesn't trust you, trips up little kids.

Sukuna, himself. He's him, doesn't believe in abortion. Says the only way to get rid of it is to stab oneself in the stomach with a katana.

Itadori, nothing. Complains if you don't have a fat ass, has definitely brought up you getting plastic surgery to "fatten it up" best to shut him up quick.

Toji, doesn't believe in spending money on dates, thinks it should be 50/50, his idea of a romantic walk is taking a nice long walk through the hood,

Toji, you can definitely hear gun shots outside his 'house' lives in a hut best compared to where denji from chainsaw man lives. Calls it his man cave

Sukuna, if you call him your hubby for fun he denies it and gets mad "so you don't want to get married" "stop putting words in my mouth woman" "oh! So you do wanna get married!!"

Toji, calls you "shawty bae", your name in his phone (that you got him) gotta be smth like "suger hoe" "the one with the money"

Gojo, your name in his contacts is "number 50?" On what's app it's "the 5th one I met at the ______"

Gojo, has pictures of himself and geto all over his house, has a big portrait of himself right above his bed so he can fall asleep looking at it

Sukuna, refutes technology, likes it the old fashioned way, does not know how to use a phone, thought yours was a bomb when it rang the first time so he broke it.

Toji, snores really I mean really loudly, dad snores frl.

Sukuna, wakes up like a vampire from their coffins.

Toji,you propose and first things he asks is "Is that a real diamond?" Later in the week you get a call from the diamond place that someone's tryna get a cash refund on the ring

Gojo, he wants you to spend, spend and spend money on him like he isn't rich, he's not giving princess treatment he wants it, baby him. This grown ahh almost 30 year old

Gojo, doesn't agree with commitment. Your relationship is best described as a 10 year long situation ship. You'll have to propose one day cuh he won't. "I'm still young-" "you're 30."

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twistedteddy · 1 year ago

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Rengoku × F!Reader

(this is really basically straight SMUT and as always never proof read)

WARNINGS: Reader has hinted issues with food, SMUT, M! Receiving head, vaginal intercourse, head pushing, cream pie, semi-rough sex, breeding kink, mating press

Kyojuro had a way of getting you to eat. Waking you up with breakfast in bed, welcoming you home to a hearty meal after a long day yelling your family tend the fields, even randomly taking you to dinners at Uzui's house when he noticed you hadn't been eating as much.

This habit continued even in bed. I'm bed you took your meals well. The palm of your hands on each of his muscular thighs as you stuffed his girth down your throat. The rough padding of his own hands trying ever so desperately not to shove you down. He always tried to be so gentle with you but he had a hard time keeping a grip when you looked up at him so pretty with his cock in your mouth. Small tears welled at your eyes as he grabbed the hair in the back of your head. Gingerly pushing down while you stiffled gags, he gasped and groaned one hand never leaving your head and the other thrown over his own eyes. If he looked at you too long he'd cum too quick. Nails digging into his thighs till pretty crescent shaped indexes were left you gently pushed his hand away and wrapped one of your own hands around his base. A ginger hiss leaving his lips are you got yourself situated. Licking his tip as you slowly pumped his base never breaking eye contact with your desperate husband. Sweat practically pouring from his bare chest and face. With a final moan he came into your warm wet mouth and you released him with a "pop". A smile visible on your face despite the heavy blushing, sweat, drool, and snot dripping down it.

Very quickly Kyo pulled you up onto the bed with him. As pretty as you were on your knees you looked better with them to your chest. Easily but slowly pushing you into a mating press whispering in your ear twisted little fantasies. "I'm gonna put a baby in you tonight my love. Knees to your shoulders, I-I won't let any of my seed spill out of you" biting and nibbling on your ear as he rocked the tip of his flushed cock against your sopping cunt. Small whines and gasps leaving you without much shame as he made sure he was plenty wet for you. Finally pushing in and bottoming out in one slow thrust. Both of you moaning as he pressed the weight of his hips into yours, pubic hair grazing your clit-causing your tight cunt to pulse around him.

"y/n, y/n, y/n" Kyo chanted as he pulled back and snapped his hips back into yours. Repeating the process over and over as you instinctively wrapped your arms around him and let your nails drag down his back. Pretty pink cat scratches decorating his shoulder blades and waist as he fucked himself deeper into you. Babbling on and on how badly he wanted you to carry his children. Begging you to allow him to become a father. Desperately pulling his dripped cock almost fully from your pussy before full force slamming it back in finally pumping you full of his cum and releasing the back of your knees from their position. Both of you gasping and sweating as he nearly collapsed in too of you. He rolled a bit off of you but kept himself inside of your now cum filled cunt. After all his seed couldn't spill out if he never pulls out.

______________________________________________

If you made it here then I have a proposal.

I will write you-

SMUT

For any character in BNHA, KNY, JJK, Inuyasha, Delicious in dungeon, etc.

And all you gotta do is cash app me 5-10$ OR buy smt for me off my Amazon wish list and send me a screenshot. The length and details of the SMUT will depend on money/item bought. Thank you for your time

#demon slayer #rengoku kyojuro #kny rengoku #rengoku x reader #kny hashira #kny fic #kny kyojuro #kyojuro x y/n #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kny smut #kny x reader #demon slayer smut

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sentient-cloud · 8 months ago

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Ok so. Hi. Me again! Last time I swear. Hopefully. I’m Tavian. Me and my mom and our cat have been through some things. We’re homeless, lack of a better word. We’ve been living in various hotels for about 3 years. Lost jobs from health issues, my moms been in and out of the hospital and has heart failure. I’ve got health issues myself that make holding down a job hard to impossible, especially if we’re going to keep the insurance that my moms depending on to keep her heart alive right now. That said I acknowledge I am far from a stranger for coming on here and begging for money in the past. I know I’ve asked for more than anyone can ever expect and I am beyond grateful for the help that’s allowed us to stay somewhat afloat. Words can’t describe how thankful I am the generosity of others has allowed us to quite frankly stay alive.

I need to acknowledge this isn’t the level of emergency past things have been. Especially now, when maybe people are in much more dire need than us.

That out of the way, we’ve been given an opportunity that quite frankly feels life changing. If we can come up with $300 by November 1st (or well as soon as possible, it’s what will lock the apartment for us) we can move into an actual apartment. A real lease, kitchen, bedrooms. No mold or bugs. She’s extremely generous with working with us to pay extra rent until we catch up with the full $2,400 amount that’s the technical move in cost. The only sticker is that extra $300 on top of what we can offer. If we can get that we’ll be able to move into a real place and out of hotels for the first time in years.

I acknowledge this is a big ask, but fuck man I have to try don’t I? I’m technically planning for $400, because this would allow us to get an air mattress to share and a month of service on my phone (so my mom can contact her work and so that I can have a way to get in contact with y’all about commisions and such.) But $300 is the bare minimum to have a real house.

I know this is a lot to ask, I can offer commisions, pay what you want, if anyone’s interested in my art. I have PayPal and Venmo and cash app, if anyone’s able to help. I also can promise I will refund your money, if you send in money and the deal falls through in the meantime. I’ll even still give you that commission. Dm me for details I guess? Fuck man. Fuck.

400/400. !!!

I’m speechless. Thank you all so so much, I will keep everyone updated (we tour the apartment tomorrow? And talk about when the money will be exchanged and the lease can be signed. I really can’t express enough how life changing this is for us. As I promised, i will keep everyone updated, and if this opportunity falls through (I’m scared of allowing myself to be too hopeful, haha it doesn’t feel real you know?) I will let everyone know and issue refunds, it’s the least I can do. I really can’t express enough how grateful we all are.

#Tavian’s ebeg #if you want to block this tag I guess lol #I feel like a huge asshole but so it goes. haha #be nice no one deadname me or dox me or whatever ok thanks

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posttexasstressdisorder · 6 months ago

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A mole infiltrated the highest ranks of American militias. Here's what he found.

ProPublica

January 4, 2025 8:26PM ET

John Williams kept a backpack filled with everything he’d need to go on the run: three pairs of socks; a few hundred dollars cash; makeshift disguises and lock-picking gear; medical supplies, vitamins and high-calorie energy gels; and thumb drives that each held more than 100 gigabytes of encrypted documents, which he would quickly distribute if he were about to be arrested or killed.

On April 1, 2023, Williams retrieved the bag from his closet and rushed to his car. He had no time to clean the dishes that had accumulated in his apartment. He did not know if armed men were out looking for him. He did not know if he would ever feel safe to return. He parked his car for the night in the foothills overlooking Salt Lake City and curled up his 6-foot-4-inch frame in the back seat of the 20-year-old Honda. This was his new home.

He turned on a recording app to add an entry to his diary. His voice had the high-pitched rasp of a lifelong smoker: “Where to fucking start,” he sighed, taking a deep breath. After more than two years undercover, he’d been growing rash and impulsive. He had feared someone was in danger and tried to warn him, but it backfired. Williams was sure at least one person knew he was a double agent now, he said into his phone. “It’s only a matter of time before it gets back to the rest.”

In the daylight, Williams dropped an envelope with no return address in a U.S. Postal Service mailbox. He’d loaded it with a flash drive and a gold Oath Keepers medallion.

It was addressed to me.

The documents laid out a remarkable odyssey. Posing as an ideological compatriot, Williams had penetrated the top ranks of two of the most prominent right-wing militias in the country. He’d slept in the home of the man who claims to be the new head of the Oath Keepers, rifling through his files in the middle of the night. He’d devised elaborate ruses to gather evidence of militias’ ties to high-ranking law enforcement officials. He’d uncovered secret operations like the surveillance of a young journalist, then improvised ways to sabotage the militants’ schemes. In one group, his ploys were so successful that he became the militia’s top commander in the state of Utah.

Now he was a fugitive. He drove south toward a desert four hours from the city, where he could disappear.

1. Prelude

I’d first heard from Williams five months earlier, when he sent me an intriguing but mysterious anonymous email. “I have been attempting to contact national media and civil rights groups for over a year and been ignored,” it read. “I’m tired of yelling into the void.” He sent it to an array of reporters. I was the only one to respond. I’ve burned a lot of time sating my curiosity about emails like that. I expected my interest to die after a quick call. Instead, I came to occupy a dizzying position as the only person to know the secret Williams had been harboring for almost two years.

We spoke a handful of times over encrypted calls before he fled. He’d been galvanized by the Jan. 6, 2021, storming of the Capitol, Williams told me, when militias like the Oath Keepers conspired to violently overturn the 2020 presidential election. He believed democracy was under siege from groups the FBI has said pose a major domestic terrorism threat. So he infiltrated the militia movement on spec, as a freelance vigilante. He did not tell the police or the FBI. A loner, he did not tell his family or friends.

Williams seemed consumed with how to ensure this wasn’t all a self-destructive, highly dangerous waste of time. He distrusted law enforcement and didn’t want to be an informant, he said. He told me he hoped to damage the movement by someday going public with what he’d learned.

The Capitol riot had been nagging at me too. I’d reported extensively on Jan. 6. I’d sat with families who blamed militias for snatching their loved ones away from them, pulling them into a life of secret meetings and violent plots — or into a jail cell. By the time Williams contacted me, though, the most infamous groups appeared to have largely gone dark. Were militias more enduring, more potent, than it seemed?

Some of what he told me seemed significant. Still, before the package arrived, it could feel like I was corresponding with a shadow. I knew Williams treated deception as an art form. “When you spin a lie,” he once told me, “you have to have things they can verify so they won’t think to ask questions.” While his stories generally seemed precise and sober — always reassuring for a journalist — I needed to proceed with extreme skepticism.

So I pored over his files, tens of thousands of them. They included dozens of hours of conversations he secretly recorded and years of private militia chat logs and videos. I was able to authenticate those through other sources, in and out of the movement. I also talked to dozens of people, from Williams’ friends to other members of his militias. I dug into his tumultuous past and discovered records online he hadn’t pointed me to that supported his account.

The files give a unique window, at once expansive and intimate, into one of the most consequential and volatile social movements of our time. Williams penetrated a new generation of paramilitary leaders, which included doctors, career cops and government attorneys. Sometimes they were frightening, sometimes bumbling, always heavily armed. It was a world where a man would propose assassinating politicians, only to spark a debate about logistics.

Federal prosecutors have convicted more than 1,000 people for their role in Jan. 6. Key militia captains were sent to prison for a decade or more. But that did not quash the allure that militias hold for a broad swath of Americans.

Now President-elect Donald Trump has promised to pardon Jan. 6 rioters when he returns to the White House. Experts warn that such a move could trigger a renaissance for militant extremists, sending them an unprecedented message of protection and support — and making it all the more urgent to understand them.

(Unless otherwise noted, none of the militia members mentioned in this story responded to requests for comment.)

Williams is part of a larger cold war, radical vs. radical, that’s stayed mostly in the shadows. A left-wing activist told me he personally knows about 30 people who’ve gone undercover in militias or white supremacist groups. They did not coordinate with law enforcement, instead taking the surveillance of one of the most intractable features of American politics into their own hands.

Skeptical of authorities, militias have sought to reshape the country through armed action. Williams sought to do it through betrayals and lies, which sat with him uneasily. “I couldn’t have been as successful at this if I wasn’t one of them in some respects,” he once told me. “I couldn’t have done it so long unless they recognized something in me.”

2. The Struggle

If there is one moment that set Williams on his path into the militia underground, it came roughly a decade before Jan. 6, when he was sent to a medium-security prison. He was in his early 30s, drawn to danger and filled with an inner turbulence.

Williams grew up in what he described to me, to friends and in court records as a dysfunctional and unhappy home. He was a gay child in rural America. His father viewed homosexuality as a mortal sin, he said. Williams spent much of his childhood outdoors, bird-watching, camping and trying to spend as little time as possible at home. (John Williams is now his legal name, one he recently acquired.)

Once he was old enough to move out, Williams continued to go off the grid for weeks at a time. Living in a cave interested him; the jobs he’d found at grocery stores and sandwich shops did not. He told me his young adulthood was “a blank space in my life,” a stretch of “petty crime” and falling-outs with old friends. He pled guilty to a series of misdemeanors: trespassing, criminal mischief, assault.

What landed Williams in prison was how he responded to one of those arrests. He sent disturbing, anonymous emails to investigators on the case, threatening their families. Police traced the messages back to him and put him away for three years.

Williams found time to read widely in prison — natural history books, Bertrand Russell, Cormac McCarthy. And it served as a finishing school for a skill that would be crucial in his undercover years. Surviving prison meant learning to maneuver around gang leaders and corrections officers. He learned how to steer conversations to his own benefit without the other person noticing.

When he got out, he had a clear ambition: to become a wilderness survival instructor. He used Facebook to advertise guided hikes in Utah’s Uinta Mountains. An old photo captures Williams looking like a lanky camp counselor as he shows students an edible plant. He sports a thick ponytail and cargo pants, painted toenails poking out from his hiking sandals.

Many people in Utah had turned to wilderness survival after a personal crisis, forming a community of misfits who thrived in environments harsh and remote. Even among them, Williams earned a reputation for putting himself in extreme situations. “Not many people are willing to struggle on their own. He takes that struggle to a high degree,” one friend told me admiringly. Williams took up krav maga and muay thai because he enjoyed fistfights. He once spent 40 days alone in the desert with only a knife, living off chipmunks and currants (by choice, to celebrate a birthday).

Williams struggled to get his survival business going. He’d hand out business cards at hobbyist gatherings with promises of adventure, but in practice, he was mostly leading seminars in city parks for beer money. He would only take calls in emergencies, another friend recalled, because he wanted to save money on minutes.

Then around New Year’s in 2019, according to Williams, he received an email from a leader in American Patriots Three Percent, or AP3. He wanted to hire Williams for a training session. He could pay $1,000.

Finally, Williams thought. I’m starting to get some traction.

3. The Decision

They had agreed there’d be no semiautomatic rifles, Williams told me, so everyone brought a sidearm. Some dozen militiamen had driven into the mountains near Peter Sinks, Utah, one of the coldest places in the contiguous U.S. Initially they wanted training in evasion and escape, Williams said, but he thought they needed to work up to that. So for three days, he taught them the basics of wilderness survival, but with a twist: how to stay alive while “trying to stay hidden.” He showed them how to build a shelter that would both keep them dry and escape detection. How to make a fire, then how to clean it up so no one could tell it was ever there.

As the days wore on, stray comments started to irk him. Once, a man said he’d been “kiked” into overpaying for his Ruger handgun. At the end of the training, AP3 leaders handed out matching patches. The ritual reminded Williams of a biker gang.

He’d already been to some shorter AP3 events to meet the men and tailor the lesson to his first meaningful client, Williams told me. But spending days in the woods with them felt different. He said he found the experience unpleasant and decided not to work with the group again.

This portion of Williams’ story — exactly how and why he first became a militia member — is the hardest to verify. By his own account, he kept his thoughts and plans entirely to himself. At the time, he was too embarrassed to even tell his friends what happened that weekend, he said. In the survival community, training militias was considered taboo.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Williams was hiding a less gallant backstory. Maybe he’d joined AP3 out of genuine enthusiasm and then soured on it. Maybe now he was trying to fool me. Indeed, when I called the AP3 leader who set up the training, he disputed Williams’ timeline. He remembered Williams staying sporadically but consistently involved after the session in the mountains, as a friend of the group who attended two or three events a year. To further muddy the picture, Williams had warned me the man would say something like that — Williams had worked hard to create the impression that he never left, he said, that he’d just gone inactive for a while, busy with work. (Remarkably, the AP3er defended Williams’ loyalty each time I asserted he’d secretly tried to undermine the group. “He was very well-respected,” he said. “I never questioned his honesty or his intentions.”)

Even Williams’ friends told me he was something of a mystery to them. But I found evidence that supports his story where so many loners bare their innermost thoughts: the internet. In 2019 and early 2020, Williams wrote thousands of since-deleted entries in online forums. These posts delivered a snapshot of his worldview in this period: idiosyncratic, erudite and angry with little room for moderation. “There are occasionally militia types that want these skills to further violent fringe agendas and I will absolutely not enable them,” he wrote in one 2020 entry about wilderness survival. In another, he called AP3 and its allies “far right lunatics.” The posts didn’t prove the details of his account, but here was the Williams I knew, writing under pseudonyms long before we’d met.

One day, he’d voice his disdain for Trump voters, neoliberalism or “the capitalist infrastructure.” Another, he’d rail against gun control measures as immoral. When Black Lives Matter protests broke out in 2020, Williams wrote that he was gathering medical supplies for local protestors. He sounded at times like a revolutionary crossed with a left-wing liberal arts student. “The sole job of a cop is to bully citizens on behalf of the state,” he wrote. “Violent overthrow of the state is our only viable option.”

Then came Jan. 6. As he was watching on TV, he later told me, Williams thought he recognized the patch on a rioter’s tactical vest. It looked like the one that AP3 leaders had handed out at the end of his training.

Did I teach that guy? he wondered. Why was I so cordial to them all? If they knew I was gay, I bet they’d want me dead, and I actually helped them. Because I was too selfish to think of anything but my career.

Shame quickly turned to anger, he told me, and to a desire for revenge. Pundits were saying that democracy itself was in mortal peril. Williams took that notion literally. He assumed countless Americans would respond with aggressive action, he said, and he wanted to be among them.

4. A New World

Williams stood alone in his apartment, watching himself in the mirror.

“I’m tall.”

“I’m Dave.”

“I’m tall.”

“I’m Dave.”

He tried to focus on his mannerisms, on the intonation of his voice. Whether he was saying the truth or a falsehood, he wanted to appear exactly the same.

Months had passed since the Capitol riot. By all appearances, Williams was now an enthusiastic member of AP3. Because he already had an in, joining the group was easy, he said. Becoming a self-fashioned spy took some trial and error, however. In the early days, he had posed as a homeless person to surveil militia training facilities, but he decided that was a waste of time.

The casual deceit that had served him in prison was proving useful. Deviousness was a skill, and he stayed up late working to hone it. He kept a journal with every lie he told so he wouldn’t lose track. His syllabus centered on acting exercises and the history of espionage and cults. People like sex cult leader Keith Raniere impressed him most — he studied biographies to learn how they manipulated people, how they used cruelty to wear their followers down into acquiescence.

Williams regularly berated the militia’s rank and file. He doled out condescending advice about the group’s security weaknesses, warning their technical incompetence would make them easy targets for left-wing hackers and government snoops. Orion Rollins, the militia’s top leader in Utah, soon messaged Williams to thank him for the guidance. “Don’t worry about being a dick,” he wrote. “It’s time to learn and become as untraceable as possible.” (The AP3 messages Williams sent me were so voluminous that I spent an entire month reading them before I noticed this exchange.)

Williams was entering the militia at a pivotal time. AP3 once had chapters in nearly every state, with a roster likely in the tens of thousands; as authorities cracked down on the movement after Jan. 6, membership was plummeting. Some who stayed on had white nationalist ties. Others were just lonely conservatives who had found purpose in the paramilitary cause. For now, the group’s leaders were focused on saving the militia, not taking up arms to fight their enemies. (Thanks to Williams’ trove and records from several other sources, I was eventually able to write an investigation into AP3’s resurgence.)

On March 4, 2021, Williams complained to Rollins that everyone was still ignoring his advice. Williams volunteered to take over as the state’s “intel officer,” responsible for protecting the group from outside scrutiny.

“My hands are tied,” Williams wrote. “If I’m not able to” take charge, the whole militia “might unravel.” Rollins gave him the promotion.

“Thanks Orion. You’ve shown good initiative here.” Privately, he saw a special advantage to his appointment. If anyone suspected there was a mole in Utah, Williams would be the natural choice to lead the mole hunt.

Now he had a leadership role. What he did not yet have was a plan. But how could he decide on goals, he figured, until he knew more about AP3? He would work to gather information and rise through the ranks by being the best militia member he could be.

He took note of the job titles of leaders he met, like an Air Force reserve master sergeant (I confirmed this through military records) who recruited other airmen into the movement. Williams attended paramilitary trainings, where the group practiced ambushes with improvised explosives and semiautomatic guns. He offered his comrades free lessons in hand-to-hand combat and bonded with them in the backcountry hunting jackrabbits. When the militia joined right-wing rallies for causes like gun rights, they went in tactical gear. Williams attended as their “gray man,” he said — assigned to blend in with the crowd and call in armed reinforcements if tensions erupted.

Since his work was seasonal, Williams could spend as much as 40 hours a week on militia activities. One of his duties as intel officer was to monitor the group’s enemies on the left, which could induce vertigo. A militia leader once dispatched him to a Democratic Socialists of America meeting at a local library, he said, where he saw a Proud Boy he recognized from a joint militia training. Was this a closet right-winger keeping tabs on the socialists? Or a closet leftist who might dox him or inform the police?

He first contacted me in October 2022. He couldn’t see how the movement was changing beyond his corner of Utah. AP3 was reinvigorated by then, I later found, with as many as 50 recruits applying each day. In private chats I reviewed, leaders were debating if they should commit acts of terrorism. At the Texas border, members were rounding up immigrants in armed patrols. But Williams didn’t know all that yet. On our first call, he launched into a litany of minutiae: names, logistical details, allegations of minor players committing petty crimes. He could tell I wasn’t sure what it all amounted to.

Williams feared that if anything he’d helped AP3, not damaged it. Then, in early November, Rollins told him to contact a retired detective named Bobby Kinch.

5. The Detective and the Sheriff

Williams turned on a recording device and dialed. Kinch picked up after one ring: “What’s going on?” he bellowed. “How you doing, man?”

“I don’t know if you remember me,” Kinch continued, but they’d met years before.

“Oh, oh, back in the day,” Williams said, stuttering for a second. He knew Kinch was expecting the call but was confused by the warm reception. Maybe Kinch was at the training in 2019?

“Well I’m the sitting, current national director of the Oath Keepers now.”

The militia’s eye-patched founder, Stewart Rhodes, was in jail amid his trial for conspiring to overthrow the government on Jan. 6. Kinch said he was serving on the group’s national board when his predecessor was arrested. Rhodes had called from jail to say, “Do not worry about me. This is God’s way.”

“He goes, ‘But I want you to save the organization.’”

Kinch explained that Rollins, who’d recently defected to the Oath Keepers, had been singing Williams’ praises. (Bound by shared ideology, militias are more porous than outsiders would think. Members often cycle between groups like square dance partners.) “I imagine your plate is full with all the crazy stuff going on in the world, but I’d love to sit down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Williams said. “AP3 and Oath Keepers should definitely be working together.” He proposed forming a joint reconnaissance team so their two militias could collaborate on intelligence operations. Kinch lit up. “I’m a career cop,” he said. “I did a lot of covert stuff, surveillance.”

By the time they hung up 45 minutes later, Kinch had invited Williams to come stay at his home. Williams felt impressed with himself. The head of the most infamous militia in America was treating him like an old friend.

To me, Williams sounded like a different person on the call, with the same voice but a brand new personality. It was the first recording that I listened to and the first time I became certain the most important part of his story was true. To authenticate the record, I independently confirmed nonpublic details Kinch discussed on the tape, a process I repeated again and again with the other files. Soon I had proof of what would otherwise seem outlandish: Williams’ access was just as deep as he claimed.

I could see why people would be eager to follow Kinch. Even when he sermonized on the “global elitist cabal,” he spoke with the affable passion of a beloved high school teacher. I’d long been fascinated by the prevalence of cops on militia rosters, so I started examining his backstory.

Kinch grew up in upstate New York, the son of a World War II veteran who had him at about 50. When Kinch was young, he confided in a later recording, he was a “wheelman,” slang for getaway driver. “I ran from the cops so many fucking times,” he said. But “at the end of the day, you know, I got away. I never got caught.”

He moved to Las Vegas and, at the age of 25, became an officer in the metro police. Kinch came to serve in elite detective units over 23 years in the force, hunting fugitives and helping take down gangs like the Playboy Bloods. Eventually he was assigned to what he called the “Black squad,” according to court records, tasked with investigating violent crimes where the suspect was African American. (A Las Vegas police spokesperson told me they stopped “dividing squads by a suspect’s race” a year before Kinch retired.)

Then around Christmas in 2013, Kinch’s career began to self-destruct. In a series of Facebook posts, he said that he would welcome a “race war.” “Bring it!” he wrote. “I’m about as fed up as a man (American, Christian, White, Heterosexual) can get!” An ensuing investigation prompted the department to tell the Secret Service that Kinch “could be a threat to the president,” according to the Las Vegas Sun. (The Secret Service interviewed him and determined he was not a threat to President Barack Obama, the outlet reported. Kinch told the paper he was not racist and that he was being targeted by colleagues with “an ax to grind.”) In 2016, he turned in his badge, a year after the saga broke in the local press.

Kinch moved to southern Utah and found a job hawking hunting gear at a Sportsman’s Warehouse. But he “had this urge,” he later said on a right-wing podcast. “Like I wasn’t done yet.” So he joined the Oath Keepers. “When people tell me that violence doesn’t solve anything, I look back over my police career,” he once advised his followers. “And I’m like, ‘Wow, that’s interesting, because violence did solve quite a bit.’”

Kinch added Williams to an encrypted Signal channel where the Utah Oath Keepers coordinated their intel work. Two weeks later on Nov. 30, 2022, Williams received a cryptic message from David Coates, one of Kinch’s top deputies.

Coates was an elder statesman of sorts in the Oath Keepers, a 73-year-old Vietnam veteran with a Hulk Hogan mustache. There’d been a break-in at the Utah attorney general’s office, he reported to the group, and for some unspoken reason, the Oath Keepers seemed to think this was of direct relevance to them. Coates promised to find out more about the burglary: “The Sheriff should have some answers” to “my inquiries today or tomorrow.”

That last line would come to obsess Williams. He sent a long, made-up note about his own experiences collaborating with law enforcement officials. “I’m curious, how responsive is the Sheriff to your inquiries? Or do you have a source you work with?”

“The Sheriff has become a personal friend who hosted my FBI interview,” Coates responded. “He opens a lot of doors.” Coates had been in D.C. on Jan. 6, he’d told Williams. It’d make sense if that had piqued the FBI’s interest.

To Williams, it hinted at a more menacing scenario — at secret ties between those who threaten the rule of the law and those duty-bound to enforce it. He desperately wanted more details, more context, the sheriff’s name. But he didn’t want to push for too much too fast.

6. The Hunting of Man

A forest engulfed Kinch’s house on all sides. He lived in a half-million-dollar cabin in summer home country, up 8,000 feet in the mountains outside Zion National Park. Williams stood in the kitchen on a mid-December Saturday morning.

Williams had recently made a secret purchase of a small black device off Amazon. It looked like a USB drive. The on-off switch and microphone holes revealed what it really was: a bug. As the two men chatted over cups of cannoli-flavored coffee, Williams didn’t notice when Kinch’s dog snatched the bug from his bag.

The night before, Williams had slept in the guest room. The house was cluttered with semiautomatic rifles. He had risked photographing three plaques on the walls inscribed with the same Ernest Hemingway line. “There is no hunting like the hunting of man,” they read. “Those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never really care for anything else.”

They spotted the dog at the same time. The bug was attached to a charging device. The animal was running around with it like it was a tennis ball. As Kinch went to retrieve it, Williams felt panic grip his chest. Could anyone talk their way out of this? He’d learned enough about Kinch to be terrified of his rage. Looking around, Williams eyed his host’s handgun on the kitchen counter.

If he even starts to examine it, I’ll grab the gun, he thought. Then I’ll shoot him and flee into the woods.

Kinch took the bug from the dog’s mouth. Then he handed it right to Williams and started to apologize.

Don’t worry about it, Williams said. He’s a puppy!

On their way out the door, Kinch grabbed the pistol and placed it in the console of his truck. It was an hour’s drive to the nearest city, where the Oath Keepers were holding a leadership meeting. Williams rode shotgun, his bug hooked onto the zipper of his backpack. On the tape, I could hear the wind racing through the car window. The radio played Bryan Adams’ “Summer of ’69.”

Kinch seemed in the hold of a dark nostalgia — as if he was wrestling with the monotony of civilian life, with the new strictures he faced since turning in his badge. Twenty minutes in, he recited the Hemingway line like it was a mantra. “I have a harder time killing animals than a human being,” Kinch continued. Then he grew quiet as he recounted the night he decided to retire.

He’d woken up in an oleander bush with no memory of how he’d gotten there. His hands were covered in blood. He was holding a gun. “I had to literally take my magazine out and count my bullets, make sure I didn’t fucking kill somebody,” he said. “I black out when I get angry. And I don’t remember what the fuck I did.”

Kinch went on: “I love the adrenaline of police work,” and then he paused. “I miss it. It was a hoot.”

By the time they reached Cedar City, Utah, Kinch was back to charismatic form. He dished out compliments to the dozen or so Oath Keepers assembled for the meeting — “You look like you lost weight” — and told everyone to put their phones in their cars. “It’s just good practice. Because at some point we may have to go down a route,” one of his deputies explained, trailing off.

Kinch introduced Williams to the group. “He’s not the feds. And if he is, he’s doing a damn good job.”

Williams laughed, a little too loud.

7. Doctor, Lawyer, Sergeant, Spy

Early in the meeting, Kinch laid out his vision for the Oath Keepers’ role in American life. “We have a two-edged sword,” he said. The “dull edge” was more traditional grassroots work, exemplified by efforts to combat alleged election fraud. He hoped to build their political apparatus so that in five or 10 years, conservative candidates would be seeking the Oath Keepers’ endorsement.

Then there was the sharp edge: paramilitary training. “You hone all these skills because when the dull edge fails, you’ve got to be able to turn that around and be sharp.” The room smelled like donuts, one of the men had remarked.

The week before, Kinch’s predecessor had been convicted of seditious conspiracy. This was their first meeting since the verdict, and I opened the recordings later with the same anticipation I feel sitting down for the Super Bowl. What would come next for the militia after this historic trial: ruin, recovery or revolt?

The stature of men leading the group’s post-Jan. 6 resurrection startled me. I was expecting the ex-cops, like the one from Fresno, California, who said he stayed on with the militia because “this defines me.” Militias tend to prize law enforcement ties; during an armed operation, it could be useful to have police see you as a friend.

But there was also an Ohio OB-GYN on the national board of directors — he used to work for the Cleveland Clinic, I discovered, and now led a subsidiary of UnitedHealth Group. The doctor was joined at board meetings by a city prosecutor in Utah, an ex-city council member and, Williams was later told, a sergeant with an Illinois sheriff’s department. (The doctor did not respond to requests for comment. He has since left his post with the UnitedHealth subsidiary, a spokesperson for the company said.)

Over six hours, the men set goals and delegated responsibilities with surprisingly little worry about the federal crackdown on militias. They discussed the scourges they were there to combat (stolen elections, drag shows, President Joe Biden) only in asides. Instead, they focused on “marketing” — “So what buzzwords can we insert in our mission statement?” one asked — and on resources that’d help local chapters rapidly expand. “I’d like to see this organization be like the McDonald’s of patriot organizations,” another added. To Williams, it felt more like a Verizon sales meeting than an insurrectionist cell.

Kinch had only recently taken over and as I listened, I wondered how many followers he really had outside of that room. They hadn’t had a recruitment drive in the past year, which they resolved to change. They had $1,700 in the bank. But it didn’t seem entirely bravado. Kinch and his comrades mentioned conversations with chapters around the county.

Then as they turned from their weakened national presence to their recent successes in Utah, Williams snapped to attention.

“We had surveillance operations,” Kinch said, without elaboration.

“We’re making progress locally on the law enforcement,” Coates added. He said that at least three of them can get “the sheriff” on the phone any time of day. Like the last time, Coates didn’t give a name, but he said something even more intriguing: “The sheriff is my tie-in to the state attorney general because he’s friends.” Williams told me he fought the urge to lob a question. (The attorney general’s office did not respond to requests for comment.)

Closing out the day, Kinch summarized their plan moving forward: Keep a low profile. Focus on the unglamorous work. Rebuild their national footprint. And patiently prepare for 2024. “We still got what, two more years, till another quote unquote election?” He thanked Williams for coming and asked if they could start planning training exercises.

“Absolutely, yeah, I’m excited about that.” Williams was resolved to find his way onto the national board.

8. The Stakeout

On Dec. 17, 2022, a week after the meeting, Williams called a tech-savvy 19-year-old Oath Keeper named Rowan. He’d told Rowan he was going to teach him to infiltrate leftist groups, but Williams’ real goal was far more underhanded. While the older Oath Keepers had demurred at his most sensitive questions recently, the teenager seemed eager to impress a grizzled survival instructor. By assigning missions to Rowan, he hoped to probe the militias’ secrets without casting suspicion on himself.

“You don’t quite have the life experience to do this,” Williams opened on the recording. But with a couple years’ training, “I think we can work towards that goal.” He assigned his student a scholarly monograph, “Alienation: Marx’s Conception of Man in a Capitalist Society,” to begin his long education in how leftists think. “Perfect,” Rowan responded. He paused to write the title down.

Then came his pupil’s first exercise: build a dossier on Williams’ boss in AP3. Williams explained it was safest to practice on people they knew.

In Rowan, Williams had found a particularly vulnerable target. He was on probation at the time. According to court records, earlier that year, Rowan had walked up to a stranger’s truck as she was leaving her driveway. She rolled down her window. He punched her several times in the face. When police arrived, Rowan began screaming that he was going to kill them and threatened to “blow up the police department.” He was convicted of misdemeanor assault.

Williams felt guilty about using the young man but also excited. (“He is completely in my palm,” he recorded in his diary.) Within a few weeks, he had Rowan digging into Kinch’s background. “I’m going to gradually have him do more and more things,” he said in the diary, “with the hopes that I can eventually get him to hack” into militia leaders’ accounts.

The relationship quickly unearthed something that disturbed him. The week of their call, Williams woke up to a series of angry messages in the Oath Keepers’ encrypted Signal channel. The ire was directed toward a Salt Lake Tribune reporter who, according to Coates, was “a real piece of shit.” His sins included critical coverage of “anyone trying to expose voter fraud” and writing about a local political figure who’d appeared on a leaked Oath Keepers roster.

Williams messaged Rowan. “I noticed in the chat that there is some kind of red list of journalists etc? Could you get that to me?” he asked. “It would be very helpful to my safety when observing political rallies or infiltrating leftists.”

“Ah yes, i have doxes on many journalists in utah,” Rowan responded, using slang for sharing someone’s personal data with malicious intent.

He sent over a dossier on the Tribune reporter, which opened with a brief manifesto: “This dox goes out to those that have been terrorized, doxed, harassed, slandered, and family names mutilated by these people.” It provided the reporter’s address and phone number, along with two pictures of his house.

Then Rowan shared similar documents about a local film critic — he’d posted a “snarky” retweet of the Tribune writer — and about a student reporter at Southern Utah University. The college student had covered a rally the Oath Keepers recently attended, Rowan explained, and the militia believed he was coordinating with the Tribune. “We found the car he drove through a few other members that did a stakeout.”

“That’s awesome,” Williams said. Internally, he was reeling: a stakeout? In the dossier, he found a backgrounder on the student’s parents along with their address. Had armed men followed this kid around? Did they surveil his family home?

His notes show him wrestling with a decision he hadn’t let himself reckon with before: Was it time to stop being a fly on the wall and start taking action? Did he need to warn someone? The journalists? The police? Breaking character would open the door to disaster. The incident with Kinch’s dog had been a chilling reminder of the risks.

Williams had been in the militia too long. He was losing his sense of objectivity. The messages were alarming, but were they an imminent threat? He couldn’t tell. Williams had made plans to leave Utah if his cover was blown. He didn’t want to jeopardize two years of effort over a false alarm. But what if he did nothing and this kid got hurt?

9. The Plan

By 2023, Williams’ responsibilities were expanding as rapidly as his anxiety. His schedule was packed with events for AP3, the Oath Keepers and a third militia he’d recently gotten inside. He vowed to infiltrate the Proud Boys and got Coates to vouch for him with the local chapter. He prepared plans to penetrate a notorious white supremacist group too.

His adversaries were gaining momentum as well. Williams soon made the four-hour drive to Kinch’s house for another leadership meeting and was told on tape about a national Oath Keepers recruiting bump; they’d also found contact information for 40,000 former members, which they hoped to use to bring a flood of militiamen back into the fold.

Despite the risk to his own safety and progress, Williams decided to send the journalists anonymous warnings from burner accounts. He attached sensitive screenshots so that they’d take him seriously. And then … nothing. The reporters never responded; he wondered if the messages went to spam. His secret was still secure.

But the point of his mission was finally coming into focus. He was done simply playing the part of model militia member. His plan had two parts: After gathering as much compromising information as he could, he would someday release it all online, he told me. He carefully documented anything that looked legally questionable, hoping law enforcement would find something useful for a criminal case. At the very least, going public could make militiamen more suspicious of each other.

In the meantime, he would undermine the movement from the inside. He began trying to blunt the danger that he saw lurking in every volatile situation the militiamen put themselves in.

On Jan. 27, 2023, body camera footage from the police killing of Tyre Nichols, an unarmed Black man, became public. “The footage is gruesome and distressing,” The New York Times reported. “Cities across the U.S. are bracing for protests.” The militias had often responded to Black Lives Matter rallies with street brawls and armed patrols.

Williams had visions of Kyle Rittenhouse-esque shootings in the streets. He put his newly formulated strategy into action, sending messages to militiamen around the country with made-up rumors he hoped would persuade them to stay home.

In Utah, he wrote to Kinch and the leaders of his other two militias. He would be undercover at the protests in Salt Lake City, he wrote. If any militiamen went, even “a brief look of recognition could blow my cover and put my life in danger.” All three ordered their troops to avoid the event. (“This is a bit of a bummer,” one AP3 member responded. “I’ve got some aggression built up I need to let out.”)

After the protests, Williams turned on his voice diary and let out a long sigh. For weeks, he’d been nauseous and had trouble eating. He’d developed insomnia that would keep him up until dawn. He’d gone to the rally to watch for militia activity. When he got home, he’d vomited blood.

Even grocery shopping took hours now. He circled the aisles to check if he was being tailed. Once while driving, he thought he caught someone following him. He’d reached out to a therapist to help “relieve some of this pressure,” he said, but was afraid to speak candidly with him. “I can check his office for bugs and get his electronics out of the office. And then once we’re free, I can tell him what’s going on.”

He quickly launched into a litany of items on his to-do list. A training exercise to attend. A recording device he needed to find a way to install. “I’m just fucking sick of being around these toxic motherfuckers.”

“It’s getting to be too much for me.”

10. The Deep State

On March 20, Williams called Scot Seddon, the founder of AP3. If he was on the verge of a breakdown, it didn’t impact his performance. I could tell when Williams was trying to advance his agenda as I listened later, but he was subtle about it. Obsequious. Methodical. By day’s end, he’d achieved perhaps his most remarkable feat yet. He’d helped persuade Seddon and his lieutenants to fire the head of AP3’s Utah chapter and to install Williams in his place.

Now he had access to sensitive records only senior militia leaders could see. He had final say over the group’s actions in an entire state. He knew the coup would make him vastly more effective. Yet that night in his voice diary, Williams sounded like a man in despair.

The success only added to his paranoia. Becoming a major figure in the Utah militia scene raised a possibility he couldn’t countenance: He might be arrested and sent to jail for some action of his comrades.

With a sense of urgency now, he focused even more intently on militia ties to government authorities. “I have been still collecting evidence on the paramilitaries’ use of law enforcement,” he said in the diary entry. “It’s way deeper than I thought.”

He solved the mystery of the Oath Keepers’ “sheriff”: It was the sheriff for Iron County, Utah, a tourist hub near two national parks. He assigned Rowan to dig deeper into the official’s ties with the movement and come back with emails or text messages. (In a recent interview, the sheriff told me that he declined an offer to join the Oath Keepers but that he’s known “quite a few” members and thinks “they’re generally good people.” Coates has periodically contacted him about issues like firearms rules that Coates believes are unconstitutional, the sheriff said. “If I agree, I contact the attorney general’s office.”)

Claiming to work on “a communication strategy for reaching out to law enforcement,” Williams then goaded AP3 members into bragging about their police connections. They told him about their ties with high-ranking officers in Missouri and in Louisiana, in Texas and in Tennessee.

The revelations terrified him. “When this gets out, I think I’m probably going to flee overseas,” he said in his diary. “They have too many connections.” What if a cop ally helped militants track him down? “I don’t think I can safely stay within the United States.”

Four days later, he tuned into a Zoom seminar put on by a fellow AP3 leader. It was a rambling and sparsely attended meeting. But 45 minutes in, a woman brought up an issue in her Virginia hometown, population 23,000.

The town’s vice mayor, a proud election denier, was under fire for a homophobic remark. She believed a local reporter covering the controversy was leading a secret far-left plot. What’s more, the reporter happened to be her neighbor. To intimidate her, she said, he’d been leaving dead animals on her lawn.

“I think I have to settle a score with this guy,” she concluded. “They’re getting down to deep state local level and it’s got to be stopped.” After the call, Williams went to turn off his recording device. “Well, that was fucking insane,” he said aloud.

He soon reached out to the woman to offer his advice. Maybe he could talk her down, Williams thought, or at least determine what she meant by settling a score. But she wasn’t interested in speaking with him. So again he faced a choice: do nothing or risk his cover being blown. He finally came to the same conclusion he had the last time he’d feared journalists were in jeopardy. On March 31, he sent an anonymous warning.

“Because she is a member of a right wing militia group and is heavily armed, I wanted to let you know,” Williams wrote to the reporter. “I believe her to be severely mentally ill and I believe her to be dangerous. For my own safety, I cannot reveal more.”

He saw the article the next morning. The journalist had published 500 words about the disturbing email he’d gotten, complete with a screenshot of Williams’ entire note. Only a few people had joined that meandering call. Surely only Williams pestered the woman about it afterwards. There could be little doubt that he was the mole.

He pulled the go bag from his closet and fled. A few days later, while on the run, Williams recorded the final entries in his diary. Amid the upheaval, he sounded surprised to feel a sense of relief: “I see the light at the end of the tunnel for the first time in two and a half years.”

Coda: Project 2025

It was seven days before the 2024 presidential election. Williams had insisted I not bring my phone, on the off chance my movements were being tracked. We were finally meeting for the first time, in a city that he asked me not to disclose. He entered the cramped hotel room wearing a camo hat, hiking shoes and a “Spy vs. Spy” comic strip T-shirt. “Did you pick the shirt to match the occasion?” I asked. He laughed. “Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

We talked for days, with Williams splayed across a Best Western office chair beside the queen bed. He evoked an aging computer programmer with 100 pounds of muscle attached, and he seemed calmer than on the phone, endearingly offbeat. The vision he laid out — of his own future and of the country’s — was severe.

After he dropped everything and went underground, Williams spent a few weeks in the desert. He threw his phone in a river, flushed documents down the toilet and switched apartments when he returned to civilization. At first, he spent every night by the door ready for an attack; if anyone found him and ambushed him, it’d happen after dark, he figured. No one ever came, and he began to question if he’d needed to flee at all. The insomnia of his undercover years finally abated. He began to sketch out the rest of his life.

Initially, he hoped to connect with lawmakers in Washington, helping them craft legislation to combat the militia movement. By last summer, those ambitions had waned. Over time, he began to wrestle with his gift for deceiving people who trusted him. “I don’t necessarily like what it says about me that I have a talent for this,” he said.

To me, it seemed that the ordeal might be starting to change him. He’d become less precise in consistently adhering to the facts in recent weeks, I thought, more grandiose in his account of his own saga. But then for long stretches, he’d speak with the same introspection and attention to detail that he showed on our first calls. His obsession with keeping the Tyre Nichols protestors safe was myopic, he told me, a case of forgetting the big picture to quash the few dangers he could control.

Williams believes extremists will try to murder him after this story is published. And if they fail, he thinks he’ll “live to see the United States cease to exist.” He identifies with the violent abolitionist John Brown, who tried to start a slave revolt two years before the American Civil War and was executed. Williams thinks he himself may not be seen as such a radical soon, he told me. “I wonder if I’m maybe a little too early.”

I’d thought Williams was considering a return to a quiet life. Our two intense years together had been a strain sometimes even for me. But in the hotel room, he explained his plans for future operations against militias: “Until they kill me, this is what I’m doing.” He hopes to inspire others to follow in his footsteps and even start his own vigilante collective, running his own “agents” inside the far right.

In August, I published my investigation into AP3. (I used his records but did not otherwise rely on Williams as an anonymous source.) It was a way of starting to lay out what I’d learned since his first email: what’s driving the growth of militias, how they keep such a wide range of people united, the dangerous exploits that they’ve managed to keep out of public view.

Two months later, Williams published an anonymous essay. He revealed that he’d infiltrated the group as an “independent activist” and had sent me files. He wanted to test how the militia would respond to news of a mole.

The result was something he long had hoped for: a wave of paranoia inside AP3. “It’s a fucking risky thing we get involved in,” Seddon, the group’s founder, said in a private message. “Fucking trust nobody. There’s fucking turncoats everywhere.” (Seddon declined to comment for this story. He then sent a short follow-up email: “MAGA.”)

Sowing that distrust is why Williams is going on the record, albeit without his original name. He still plans to release thousands of files after this article is published — evidence tying sheriffs and police officers to the movement, his proudest coup, plus other records he hopes could become ammo for lawsuits. But Williams wants to let his former comrades know “a faggot is doing this to them.” He thinks his story could be his most effective weapon.

Every time militia members make a phone call, attend a meeting or go to a gun range together, he wants them “to be thinking, in the back of their heads, ‘This guy will betray me.’”

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