#suspected adultery

[lostgoonie1980]

202. A Sonata a Kreutzer (La sonate à Kreutzer, 1956), dir. Éric Rohmer

[nostalgia-tblr]

quick question - do we know what "her courses" means or do I need to find another term that seems like it wouldn't be too anachronistic for whenever-the-fuck-this-is-actually-set? If it's an unknown phrase does it help that the sentence says they have "appeared on the expected schedule"?

[yarrayora]

Thanks to you I now can't stop thinking about Kabru and Falin being good friends doing their own thing, and then have people suspect them of getting together, because everyone know basic human decency is just a gateway to romance

kabru doesnt appreciate how marcille doesnt realize she just accused them of adultery

[icedmintteastuff]

husband!wriothesley hcs

happy new year!! just making a husband!wriothesley for the new year, sorry for the wrong grammar :/ enjoy!!

warning: wrong grammar, ooc, slightly suggestive at the end.

you work at the court of fontaine, you are in charge in gathering information in investigation. you met wriothesley when clorinde mentioned you to him when they were investigating a case. you always claimed that the information came from the offender itself in every 'gossip' you tell her.

wriothesley then asked clorinde to invite you to the fortress for some tea, he knew the you work at the court of fontaine but he has never met you personally, even when he gets summoned for official matters.

the day of your visit came by he rizzed you with his tea asked for the information about the suspect(s) they're investigating. he found you funny and interesting whenever you're giving them information, since you're doing it like you're giving them the latest gossip that is going around, except you have the knowledge before the steambird did.

this routine kept going on with clorinde accompanying you to the fortress, clorinde noticed the way wriothesley looks at you as the time progresses, she then became overprotective of you space and privacy since the duke was getting a little bit too close to you.

clorinde then lowered her guard when you told her you developed feelings for the duke, she would help wriothesley every now and then in courting you, which he appreciates. he proposed to you on the same day you guys first met when both of you have a picnic under the warm sun.

you had a small wedding with your family and friends,and neuvillette being the wedding officiant and warning wriothesley to take care of you. later on, you would move in the fortress with wriothesley, however you have to go to the overworld for work, which wriothesley didn't mind, and you would return to the fortress at night with souvenirs for your husband and sigewinne.

there are times that you would roam around the fortress without your husband, and interacting with the prisoners, which you are not worried in the slightest bit. you know your husband watches you in the shadows and follows you around the fortress so that you can be safe.

husband!wriothesley loves the way you casually tell him other people's business as if you're just gossiping to him. plus, he sees this as a free information from the overworld.

"you know there's this guy who bragged about sleeping with a woman, but he robbed her when she was sleeping, he was bold enough to brag about it"

"if you're wondering why im getting a lot of letters lately, its my friend, they've been on and off with their relationship, i just told them to break up with their partner"

"remember the actress i told you about from before? yeah, she almost committed adultery because the guy she's currently going out was already married"

husband!wriothesley may not show affection to you publicly, but behind closed doors he immediately turns into a dog begging for head/chin scratches and belly rubs.

husband!wriothesley loves it whenever you sit on his lap, facing him, with your head on his shoulder, sleeping. there are times that he would fall asleep along with you since your slow breathing and soft snoring lulled him to sleep. if he's not asleep he would press kisses on your lips which he would chuckle whenever you scrunch your nose.

husband!wriothesley who thought about having kids with you, but decided not to have one yet since both of you are not ready for one. for now, you guys have sigewinne and the melusines.

husband!wriothesley who looks at you in disbelief after finding out that you help sigewinne and the melusines put stickers all over him and his belongings.

"you're my wife yet your betraying me like this??"

"sorry about that, you look good in glitter though" you giggled at him

"flattery will get you nowhere, dear" you chuckle, knowing he wasn't mad at you. not that he would get mad at you anyway

"aww, is my husband upset with me?" you coo, striding towards him "how will i ever make it up to him?" you put one arm behind his neck, with your free hand caressing his cheeks.

husband!wriothesley who secretly enjoys your mischievous side, even if you give him headaches with your shenanigans, he's still willing to clean up your mess.

"what did you do this time??" he asked you sternly to which you didn't respond, only looking away pouting and tapping the tip of your feet. the two guards behind you starts to sweat at your lack of response, afraid that you angered the duke.

your husband sighs and dismissed the two guards. your husband looks at you as the guards exit, "that's it. you're getting punished" he suddenly stride towards you and threw you on his shoulder. you let out a yelp and started to kick you feet.

you stopped kicking when you felt a smack on your ass, "behave yourself." "im sorry!!" "don't worry dear, i'll know it when i hear it"

[jdragsky]

my wizard is gonna have such insane daddy issues

[image descriptions under read more]

Image 1: a picklist from the tabletop RPG Seven Part Pact which reads:

Your master taught you the practice of Necromancy, although he is now dead. How did he teach you? How did he die? Choose 1 which is known and, perhaps, 1 which you suspect. No matter the circumstances, he now guards the 8th Gate of Death.

He was a stern and wizened man, rather like a father for you, who raised you from the earliest age to follow his footsteps. He gave his life to hold the Gates and keep his most hated enemy at bay (perhaps it was King Morrog).

He was an awkward man, who preferred to read instead of talking, and was often negligent. He was betrayed by another Wizard in a moment of weakness (perhaps it was by the Warlock's master).

He was a charming man, barely older than you, who found you working as a petty ghoul-caller in the slums of Isha. He was executed by the King of Isha for treason and adultery. 

He was a quiet man, who rescued you from the edge of death and restored you to life, teaching you silently. One day he simply gave you his fragment of the Pact and departed into Death, never to return.

He was a cruel man, who stole you away from some faraway isle, and taught you most unpleasantly. You took his life to preserve the Seven-Part Pact, although you still wonder if it was the right choice.

You never met the former Necromancer, for you were chosen by the other Wizards to fill a vacant seat within the Pact. He taught you still, in visions and in death.

You learned your magic from the carrion-birds and open graves of the Graven Isle, and needed no master to guide your hand in matters of necromancy.

Image 2: a picklist from the tabletop RPG Seven Part Pact which reads:

You are a man, as all Wizards are. However within your heart you know:

While you are young, your hair is gray, and you can feel the icy touch of death within your bones and quickly-beating heart.

You are a dead man walking, your destined doom a black dog which bites at your heels and follows where you go.

You were once a woman, but many years ago you disguised yourself as a man and became a Wizard in secret.

While on the streets of Isha you are a woman, you adopt the form of a man to work with death.

While many see you as a man, some part of you knows you are truly a woman.

You are neither man nor woman, for such mortal matters are little concern to those who have seen the far reaches of death and returned.

There is an even greater secret, which is for you and you alone.

[jokeringcutio]

Stepdad! William Afton x (f)  Reader: New Year ( Warnings: Smut)

AN: Happy New Year to all my followers and all you WilliamAfton / SteveRaglan / MatthewLillard Fanbunnies. Here’s a little drabble that fits inside the stepdad AU universe.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Talk about adultery/secrecy/taboo relationship, mouth on v, p in v, unprotected s*x, threats of stepdaddy wanting to keep you with him.

The soft glow of fairy lights illuminated the room as you sat at your desk, pen in hand, diligently writing in your diary. The New Year had just begun, and with it came a sense of renewal, of change. You couldn't help but wonder what this new period in your life would bring—new experiences, new people, or perhaps a different side to those already in your life.

The door creaked open, and without looking up, you knew it was him—your stepdad, William. He entered quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor. You didn't move, not even when he approached and placed a warm, strong hand on your shoulder.

"Enjoying the peace and quiet after all that partying?" he asked, his voice low and smooth like aged whiskey.

"Definitely," you replied, setting your pen down. "Vanessa and Mike really went overboard with the drinking, huh?"

William chuckled, his fingers starting to trace slow circles on your shoulders, drifting lower with each pass. "Yeah, they were both pretty hungover the next day. Serves them right for turning our living room into a war zone."

You shivered at the sensation of his touch, but continued the conversation. "I guess it was a memorable way to start the year." Your thoughts betrayed you, wondering if William's presence in your room held some hidden meaning, some unspoken desire.

"Memorable indeed," he murmured, his hands now dangerously close to the curve of your breasts.

The heavy thud of your diary closing echoed through the dimly lit room. William's blue eyes locked onto yours, a shadowy look lurking in their depths. He leaned in, his breath hot and hushed against your ear.

"Your mother is doubting our wedding," he whispered, his voice laced with bitterness. "She's talking about divorce. She suspects I've been fucking her darling daughter."

Your heart clenched at the words, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. You scowled at him, the unfairness of it all surging within you. It was he who had started this twisted game, manipulating you into secrecy. You would never want to hurt your mother this way. You’d never have allowed a married man to touch you if he hadn’t been living in the same house, under the same roof, manipulating you into this with every breath you took.

"And did you tell her the truth?” you hissed, accusingly. “Did you tell her how often you fuck her little girl?” You used those words on purpose, as William loved to remind you of how much younger and weaker you were compared to him. Nothing more but a little girl that needed to be put in her place. Whether you’d been bratty or not.

A low growl escaped his lips as he grabbed your wrist, flipping you over the desk without a moment's hesitation. Your body tensed, adrenaline rushing through your veins. He pushed your pants aside with rough fingers, and then… he surprised you.

His beard tickling your skin as he lowered his mouth to you.

"Dad!" you gasped, but it was too late. His tongue traced patterns on your most sensitive flesh, teasing you mercilessly. A shudder ran down your spine, the pleasure building up inside, threatening to explode.

The tip of the tongue dipped in. He slurped and sucked and suckled on your nub until you writhed in pleasure. But a strong hand kept you pushed down, your chest against the desk, your diary trapped underneath your tummy.

"Remember who's in charge here," he murmured against you, his voice dark with desire. The air from his lips tickled your wet folds. You felt a shiver run down your spine, felt your walls pulse helplessly with pleasure.

He always managed to do this to you. The strong hand kept pushing you down, giving you no room to move away from the onslaught of his mouth. His lips, his tongue, his beard – he was driving you insane. This must be the reason your mom invited him into her life, you thought through the haze. He was so good in giving you pleasure, that you’d forget whether you had said yes or no or had allowed him in. The sensation of his beard brushing against you only heightened the intensity, pushing you closer to the edge. You were seeing stars.

And then his lips were gone.

"Please," you whimpered, your voice wavering. "Daddy, please." The word felt strange on your tongue, but there was no denying the thrill it sent through you. William's eyes darkened with lust as he flipped you over, onto your back, and positioned himself between your legs.

"Remember, you are my little girl too now," he growled before thrusting inside without warning. The intensity of it left you gasping for breath, fingers digging into the edge of the desk. His movements were rough and hungry, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of both fear and pleasure.

His cock was stretching you impossibly wide, your vaginal walls pulsed around him in an effort to fit him in. Slick lubed him all the way, dripping down and even coating his balls that were heavy and tightened with each thrust, ready to burst.

"Harder," you managed to choke out, driven by a need you couldn't quite comprehend. He obliged, his grip on your hips bruising and unyielding. Your thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind, torn between desire for William and guilt over betraying your mother.

"Mine," he snarled, his eyes locked onto yours as he drove into you with brutal force. The desk squeaked and thudded against the wall, the papers that had been laying upon it fell to the floor, your phone tumbled over the edge. The word echoed in your mind, pulsing with each pounding heartbeat. You belonged to him, body and soul, and there was something undeniably intoxicating about that fact.

As the coil within you tightened, desperation clawed at your chest. "Oh, Dad, I'm—"

"Say it," he demanded, his voice harsh and unforgiving.

"Daddy," you whispered, barely audible. “I’m gonna come on your cock.” And with that final submission, you shattered beneath him, your climax crashing over you in waves. It took him a few more firm thrusts but he followed soon after, his release hot and possessive inside you.

You bit your lip after catching your breath, listening to the low pants of your stepdad as he too got down from his high. You watched as he ran a hand through his wispy hair, grey locks betraying how much older he was compared to you. Not that you minded. You thought the age had added a spark to him – like fine wine.

Withdrawing from your trembling body and leaving a trail of lukewarm cum on the inside of your thigh, William reached down, sliding your diary from underneath you. He flipped it open, his eyes scanning the pages. The thin-lipped serious expression he wore slowly was replaced by a predatory smirk. As he read, his smile only grew wider, more satisfied.

"Look at this," he murmured, his fingers tracing over your words. "You write you can’t wait for us to fuck. So eager during the day, waiting for your mom to go away so Daddy can have his fucking fun on the playground.”

A low groan, an indication of what your words did to him. You knew exactly which parts he was reading. The entries where you described how your body had started to adjust to him. How it felt when he had you warm his cock. How happy you were when he made you cum afterward. How your feelings for him had started to change. Whatever they had been in the beginning, they had been fully replaced with an unadulterated love for him.

His blue eyes met yours, the smirk never leaving his face. “You like it when I fuck you, sweetheart. How sweet. It even says you claim to have fallen in love with me."

He closed the diary, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss on the top of your head. The contrast between his earlier violence and this tender gesture left you reeling. He helped you up into a sitting position before he turned away from you, adjusting his pants and making sure he looked presentable again.

"I'll find a way to keep you with me," he promised, his voice low and dangerous.

You knew you should have been terrified, but all you could feel was that strange, dark thrill deep within your core. William Afton had claimed you, and there was no going back.

~

If you like this kind of filth, I have a lot more of Stepdad!Afton x Reader and more coming up. I also write for other interesting bad men such as slasher characters. If you are feeling generous - as it is the season of giving - you can always leave me a little thank you on my Ko-Fi (:

I’ll post some quick links below to other works. My prompt box is still open, but I will be heading into the hospital at the end of December and depending on my treatment, I might have to close it in the near future. But I’ll keep you up to date :)

Quick links:

~~ Masterlist - Request Box -  Support me on Ko-Fi ~~

[haggishlyhagging]

“There are reports that, even when the facts about conception and birth were made known to primitive peoples, they refused to accept them as true. Some were inclined to view the information as a defect in the intelligence of the white man. Malinowski relates how the Trobrianders went to great pains to explain to him that sexual intercourse had nothing to do with the birth of a child.

Their attitude to their own children also bears witness to their ignorance of any causal relation between congress and the ensuing pregnancy. A man whose wife has conceived during his absence will cheerfully accept the fact and the child, and he will see no reason at all for suspecting her of adultery. One of my informants told me that after over a year's absence he returned to find a newly born child at home. He volunteered this statement as an illustration and final proof of the truth that sexual intercourse has nothing to do with conception. . . .

My friend Layseta, a great sailor and magician of Sinaketa, spent a long time in his later youth in the Amphlett Islands. On his return he found two children, borne by his wife during his absence. He is very fond of them and of his wife; and when I discussed the matter with others, suggesting that one at least of these children could not be his, my interlocutors did not understand what I meant. (Sexual Life of Savages, pp. 193-94)

Frazer points out that the biological facts of life we take for granted could not have been known to primitive peoples. While the part played by the mother in the birth process is obvious, he wrote, how could people in the prescientific era "perceive that the child which comes forth from the womb is the fruit of the seed which was sowed there nine months before?" (Totemism and Exogamy, vol. IV, pp. 61-62).

Margaret Mead makes the even more important point that to the primitive mind children were not the fruit of a momentary act of sexual congress but of years of patient nurture and care:

The Arapesh have no idea that after the initial act which establishes physiological paternity, the father can go away and return nine months later to find his wife safely delivered of a child. Such a form of parenthood they would consider impossible, and furthermore, repellent. For the child is not the product of a moment's passion, but is made by both father and mother, carefully, over time. (Sex and Temperament in Three Primitive Societies, p. 31)

Mead here puts a finger on the most essential characteristic that made the husband the father of a woman's child, namely, that he now had the right to assist his wife in the care and protection of her child. From this standpoint, a new "male mother" makes his appearance in history—the "husband-mother"—as against the former male mother, the mother's brother. Thus fatherhood as a social institution did not begin on the basis of sexual intercourse between a man and woman but as a set of maternal functions performed by the man for his wife's child.”

-Evelyn Reed, Woman’s Evolution: From Matriarchal Clan to Patriarchal Family

[s0lam33y]

jealous

[izogie x reader]

summary : you’re the king’s first wife, the one he trusts the most. You’ve loved him for so long but after years of him being with other women and his other wives, you became lonely. The only person that was there for you was Izogie, one of the most skilled warriors in Dahomey. She’s been there for you in more ways than one.

It’s early morning. Too early. But as usual, you’re the first up. You’ve always loved early mornings and you always will.

“There’s so much going on, y/n, I can’t let the Europeans stay.” Ghezo speaks to you as he massages your waist with one hand. You stroke his arm and kiss his temple.

“I trust you’ll make the right decision, my king.” You whisper. It’s what you say every time he’s having trouble making a decision. You run your short nails across his coarse and thick Afro to soothe him. He leans into your touch, his stubble tickling your collarbone.

The two of you always have mornings like these. It feels like the start of your relationship, when you were the only one he had eyes for. When he didn’t seek anyone else. Your king and his queen.

You remember when you were both younger, less aged and more excited. You’d wake up together, rinse your faces and he’d finally get to wear the Royal garb he’s wanted to wear. You have mornings of bliss, with you sitting on his lap on the throne and talking about nonsense.

You were his first wife. The first woman to ever win his heart. You were going to become a part of the agojie but your beauty caught his eye.

“How do you always know what to say?” He asks and all you do is give him a smile before kissing his cheek. All that you know to say, you’ve borrowed from your one true love. Izogie.

You place a hand on his chest, right above his beating heart before kissing his forehead.

….

you walk through a sea of trainees, watching them train with each other, laughing and grinning as they do. They pause to bow for you and you can’t help but smile. Oh, how you wish you had continued being a soldier. The hot sun beats down on your body as you continue to walk.

You run a hand across your forehead, taking in a deep breath as the sun does it’s work on you. A familiar hand squeezes your waist.

“You must not be in the sun like this, my queen.” Izogie’s voice lightly teases behind you. She’s too close for comfort but you can’t blame her. You take a step forward so her hand is no longer on you and stand next to her.

She looks just as beautiful as she did last week when you saw her. Her chest and biceps are glistening with a mix of shea butter and sweat. Her nails still sharp as ever. As she moves you hear the leather and shells clacking against her pretty skin.

“I’m used to the heat.” You say, smiling as a fellow trainee walks past you. No one suspects anything between the two of you. Your friendly nature is reknown throughout the kingdom and no one dares accusing the first wife of the king of doing anything like adultery.

You crave izogie; you need her more than the throne, the king or anything he has to offer. Her eyes trail down to your reddened-lips. You feel stained with the king’s touch and you need her to wash it all off.

“I will see you around, love.” She whispers only so you can hear before turning around and going to correct some trainees.

“You’re moving like a SLOTH!” She yells, looking back at you, smiling before correcting a the frightened trainee.

…

It’s late at night, the only reason why you’ve been able to sneak out is because the king is currently in bed with his third wife. You can’t be noticed because of the simple white robe you have on, your curls are out, untouched and a mess but you don’t care. Completely opposite of your normally kept look. The only way one would be able to tell is if they saw your face up close.

You end up in front of izogie’s hut, the one she’s built herself. You see the light from her lantern illuminating the inside before her hand grabs you to pull you in.

Her lips crash against yours as her nails graze your scalp.

“I missed you.” You admit, kissing her lip and then her neck and her shoulder, feeling the muscle bulge beneath her pretty brown skin.

“You as well, darling. I love your hair.” She whispers lowly, exhausted from all her fighting and hiking for the day. She gently kisses your forehead, like your made of glass.

“Long day?” You ask, laying against her broad chest.

“The longest.” She replies as her nails slowly rake down your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She smells like wood and shea butter that she mixes with something you can’t put your nose on.

You notice the little set up she has, a single mat laid out to sleep and a small bowl of stew she had been eating, made by the chef here. You both end up sitting down in front of each other, her face beautifully lit by the lantern as you speak.

“Had I known you were coming, I would prepare another mat and get you more food.” She sighs, feigning irritation as you hold the bowl of half eaten stew. You bring it to your lips and savour the taste.

Yes, the palace offers the tastiest food but nothing beats a well-cooked meal, one that’s made straight from the village. Oh, how you’ve missed it.

“It’s okay, my love, I’m comfortable here,” you grin as she sits up and grabs the bowl from you.

“Let me go get you some more.” She insists and you know better than to try to deny her so she leaves you with a peck on the lips before exiting the hut.

You get comfortable, laying down on the mat and taking in her scent. You don’t even hear her walk back in so her voice startles you.

“Getting comfortable already?” She asks. You turn around only to find that amused grin on her face as she settles a steaming hot bowl of stew in your palms.

“I don’t mean to bother-“ you begin.

“Eat.” She interrupts as she rolls her eyes. She moves toward you and settles right behind you so your back is flush against her front. Despite how many times she fights a day and how aggressive she can be with her trainees, she’s so soft with you. Impossibly soft with you.

Her eyes are practically glued to you and you’ve gotten so used and comfortable with it. But you don’t understand how one can stare at you so lovingly with a mess of curls and stew staining the corner of your mouth.

You finish the stew in no time and she kisses your temple before speaking.

“Maybe he should start taking your favorite meals into account.” She jokes and although you know it’s a joke. You so desperately want to laugh but you can’t. Ghezo doesn’t know anything about you, anymore, not a single thing, not your favorite activities, or your favorite meal.

But izogie does, she knows you like neutral colors, that you love taking naps even though it’s impossible for you to, she knows you love playing music and that you can’t swim for the life of you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you by saying that,” she apologizes as she strokes the soft skin of your thigh.

“I know…I just—you’re right.” You agree as you lean back. She crosses her arms around you and kisses your shoulder. She grabs the wooden bowl and sets it aside from your grasp while lowering her hands to your hips.

“I will always be here, however you need me to be, darling.” She promises and with all that sincerity in her voice, you can’t help but feel how deep her words go. She would go to war for you and you know it.

You both breathe in and out, together.

…

You and Izogie spent the night together, she spent more time reassuring you that she would be there for you, in more ways than one and leaving reminders for you to look at throughout the next week.

Her grip on you was desperate, she eventually let go of your throughout the night, allowing you to turn around and face her.

You turn over on the small mat that can barely fit the two of you. The sun isn’t up yet and neither is your lover. You look at Izogie’s face, her face free of wrinkles and body relaxed against your own. Her uniform is on the floor far from you and you admire her while you can.

The relationship isn’t purely physical no but Izogie is attractive and you can’t deny it. She has so many scars from training and fighting but she’s so beautiful. You cup her face in your palms and gently kiss her plump lips.

She scoots closer, still half asleep and mumbling while she wraps an arm around your waist. She rests her face in the crook of your neck as she continues to sleep. She’s full of warmth, so much of it that you want it to envelope you for years to come. Her lashes flutter against your collarbone as she continues to move around.

“Izogie,” you speak her name like a prayer. She hums from deep in her throat and if you weren’t exhausted from last night you swear you’d have another round with her.

“I must go get cleaned up, accompany me, please?” She��s never denied you and she doesn’t see why she’d deny you now. You chuckle as she blinks her eyes open. You use your thumbs to wipe the crust from her eyes as she stretches awakes.

You both get up and she stuffs spare towels in her arms as you wear the white robe you were in previously.

“Why must you move so slow?” She grins already dressed by the time you finish up getting dressed.

…

You’ve never really like the water. And you’re sure you never will but when Izogie is on you the way she is. And her hands are doing their job, the water feels like it barely exists.

“Izogie, what if we get caught?” You ask as her body breaks through the surface of the steaming water. She hums and shrugs without care like she wants to get caught, almost like she wants everyone to know that she’s yours.

“Then so be it.” She murmurs while fiddling with your waist beads that sit beautifully on your waist.

Ghezo crosses your mind. He would be furious if you left him for Izogie. She’s a strong warrior, stronger than he’ll ever be. It would upset your people, everyone around you. It would break your heart to watch all the other wives and your own people turn on you.

But you want her more. You want her more than you know. You want her more than Ghezo, more than your people and more than those wives.

“You think too much.” She points out, gripping your bare hips and pressing gentle kisses to your neck. She tilts your head back while running her hands down your curls. Her nails dig into your scalp, massaging the worries away.

You feel so soothed that your vision begins to blur. She scoops up water in those hands of hers and runs them down your hair.

“I know you‘ll have a choice to make, I know what you’ll pick,”’ She whispers, wet lips trailing down your jaw.

“How are you so sure that you aren’t a choice?” You question, picking up your head to look at her troubled face. She chuckles but not her regular one, there’s so much sadness masked behind it.

“Y/n….He was there before me, you love him, he’s a king while I am just a warrior.” She says blankly. You’ve never seen izogie so unsure before. Insecure, almost.

You cup her face so she’s focused. Her torso melts into your own.

“I love you.” She erupts, her heart beating so fast that her chest moves against your own. Your lips press against each other, forcing a shocked groan out of her.

Her lips linger for a moment, letting your lips graze before you begin to speak.

“I love you too.” Neither of you know how long this is gonna last. It could end tomorrow. In a year. In a month. Either way, you’d pick each other each and every time, now, then, and anyday in between.

[please let me know what you think via comments :)]

playlist: who hurt you by Daniel Ceasar, yebba’s heartbreak by Yebba + drake, say yes by floetry, shame by summer walker, none of your concern by jhene Aiko, promises by jhene Aiko, 20 something by SZA.

@sweetalittleselfish-honey @xenaizogie couldn’t tag anyone else :(

[lemonhemlock]

Rhaenyra v Cersei: Battle of the Bastards

Lo' and behold, looks like I'm not done with bastardposting after all. For this piece, I would like to compare and contrast the two main situations that the general public has been exposed as far as the issue of illegitimate children is concerned within the ASOIAF-verse: Rhaenyra v Cersei.

The parallels are obvious. Rhaenyra has three bastard children, Cersei has three bastard children. Let's see how they handle it.

Rules

According to Westerosi law, bastards can't inherit. It doesn't matter if they're the husband's or the wife's, the King's or the Queen's. Children born out of wedlock to any spouse are explicitly excluded from the line of succession.

Only the King can legitimise bastards via a royal decree. Enough of these "Roose legitimized Ramsay" lies. It's patently untrue. Tommen legitimized Ramsay.

In order to be legitimised, the children in question first have to be declared bastards. You cannot legitimize trueborn children. You cannot secretly legitimise bastards. "Viserys claimed Rhaenyra's children were trueborn, ergo he implicitly legitimised them." No, he didn't. He never admitted they were bastards.

Why does this matter? Because it is unclear where legitimised bastards fall in the line of succession. If they maintain their place by birth order or if they are relegated to the back of the line, behind any and all other trueborn claimants.

There are no genetic tests available in Westeros. People have to prove adultery or rely on common sense.

1. Cersei has a distinct advantage over Rhaenyra, since her children look like her. She can very easily argue that they favour her, as their mother, and this is exactly what everyone believes for years, including Robert. Since Jaime is the male version of Cersei, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella can look like no else. Catelyn's kids look like Catelyn and no one bats an eye. Only Arya and (to Catelyn's irritation) Jon look like Ned. However, Ned doesn't ever doubt his children are not his.

Rhaenyra's kids look nothing like Rhaenyra and nothing like Laenor. They, instead, share distinct physical traits with her sworn shield, a man seen very often in her presence. People are not idiots. There is no plausible deniability here. You can bet your bottom dollar that if Cersei's kids were, say, Dornish-looking, people would be calling her out for her bullshit.

There is a way you can reasonably get away with passing over your bastards as someone else's, but that is 100% not Rhaenyra's way. This is why Cersei is chilling in the Red Keep, living her best bad bitch life, while Rhaenyra is running away to Dragonstone when the rumours are nipping at her heels. They are not the same. There are no paternity rumours to quell Cersei's girlboss vibes. She is sly enough that even Robert is convinced he inseminated her (gross).

2. I'm not going to get into the intricacies of Ned Stark's Scooby-Doo, Hercule Poirot mystery plot of unraveling Cersei's misdeeds. Ned has his own beef with the Lannisters and is convinced they are up to no good. He investigates them like the meddling kid he is and comes away with a suspicion. He knows nothing (heh) for certain until Cersei verbally confirms it for him. yOuR bRoThEr Or YoUr lOvEr. boo!

Had Ned not been on the Lannister trail from the very beginning, a fair assumption can be made that he never even would have suspected anything untoward. He never questions the children's paternity when they visit in Winterfell.

Again, this is distinctly different from Rhaenyra's situation. No one believes Cersei's children are bastards,* whereas no one believes Rhaenyra's children are trueborn. Pretending otherwise is very, very strange.

*at the beginning of AGOT, at least

3. Robert claimed Joffrey all his life and specifically named him his son and heir in his will, under dictation, to Ned. In turn, Ned deliberately changed Robert's words and wrote them down as "my rightful heir".

This is a parallel to show!Alicent, who misunderstands Viserys' dying words and him naming his son Aegon as heir. If Alicent didn't have the right to muddle the King's meaning, then neither did Ned. However, no one in their right minds is arguing that Ned is a traitor to the Crown. I wonder why is that?

I have already pointed out the circular logic in arguing that Robert only said that because he didn't know the children weren't his.

4. So what does this mean? Can anyone just accuse anyone they don't like of being a bastard and, thus, endanger that person's entire social status?

No, of course not. But, unfortunately for Cersei, Ned and Stannis aren't just some randos in a tavern. Ned is the Hand of the King. Stannis is Lord of Dragonstone and on the Small Council. These two men have a stalwart reputation and are renowned for their obsession with justice, duty and, in Ned's case, honour.

If Ned Stark stands in front of the Iron Throne and proclaims Joffrey a bastard, risks his daughters' lives and literally ends up losing his head as a result of this,

if Stannis Baratheon sends letters throughout the realm claiming Cersei's children are illegitimate,

the people of Westeros are going to pay attention.

These two very important men using their public platform to denounce Joffrey and starting wars over this? Say what you will about them, but they are not oathbreakers and they are not liars. No, they don't come with DNA tests, but for a lot of Westerosi, this is enough. They believe it.

Is this foolproof? No, of course not! But it convinces enough people that they are willing to band together to support rival claimants to the throne, thus igniting the War of the Five Kings. Speaking of political headaches, this is a huge one!

That being said, while Cersei is playing in the Champions League, Rhaenyra is fighting for her life in the relegation zone. She doesn't even need a Ned or a Stannis to cast doubt on her because no one believes her kids are not bastards.

Moreover, Vaemond obviously parallels Ned in this story. He tells the truth in open court and loses his head for it. In the show, Daemon and Viserys play the same role as Joffrey. In the texts, Rhaenyra and Daemon are stand-ins for Joffrey. This is not meant to be a triumphant moment of girlbossery. This is an abuse of power and an act of terror.

All in all, I'm sorry to say, but Cersei wins this hands down. She is savvy enough in her choice of sperm donor and can maintain plausible deniability without looking like a goddamn clown and the entire circus to boot. She holds the capital and has access to all the emblems of state after Robert dies. In contrast, Rhaenyra is floundering across the Blackwater Bay, yelling at the dragon gargoyles that her children are trueborn.

Why is this issue important in the story?

a). No one has a problem with Jace being King.

If people had a problem with Joffrey being King, enough to go to war over it, it would be narratively inconsistent for them to just accept an obvious bastard as King. It would contradict the internal logic of the fictional world we're talking about. That's quite some level of suspension of disbelief just because some fans like Jace. This isn't about him being amiable or a good kid.

b). They're still Rhaenyra's sons / it's a Targaryen internal matter and concerns no one else / the concept of Jace being King doesn't personally affect anyone else, so why does anyone care?

Because it's the freaking law! The name of the crime Rhaenyra commits is high treason! Punishable by exile or death!

No, the crime is not adultery, it's not having bastard children, it's specifically putting said bastard children in line to the throne. In that, Rhaenyra is as guilty as Cersei is.

It absolutely does affect others, since Rhaenyra actively steals the inheritance of House Velaryon for Luke. How is that not a crime? I would even go so far as to say that Laenor and Corlys are complicit in it and should be punished as well.

Contrary to bafflingly-popular erroneous beliefs, the monarch can't just do whatever they want. Even in absolutist monarchies, the sovereign serves the vital social role of upholding the law and the rights of their subjects. Rhaenyra breaks said law by committing theft, murder, high treason and destabilizing the entire system of inheritance.

c) Rhaenyra breaks the social contract

Jock Locke argues for the "right of revolution" in the Second Treatise of Government. He writes that when the government acts against the interests of its citizens, then said citizens gain the right to overthrow it and replace it with an authority that will protect their interests.

I am not trying to impose 'progressive' understandings of the political process anachronistically, in a medieval fantasy; my thesis-statement is that we have already seen this concept at play within the world of ASOIAF: the Faith Militant uprising against Aenys I and Maegor due to their practices of incest and polygamy and Robert's Rebellion, caused by Rhaegar kidnapping a noble lady and Aerys II carrying out executions without due process. The people of Westeros are not unfamiliar with opposing monarchs who don't abide by the law.

The question of Rhaenyra having bastards is framed in a lot of commentary through the lens of her right as a woman to have extra-marital sex and not be demonised for it and to find fulfilling love within the constraints imposed on her by her station. While debating the personal individual freedom of women in a patriarchal feudal society is not to be side-lined, her fundamental fault is that she is demanding rights and exemptions for herself, while the rest of the country have to abide by an entirely different set of rules.

The laws of inheritance, as unjust as they may appear to our modern eyes, are in place to prevent crises of succession, violent conflicts or even large-scale wars from starting every time someone's estates are passed on. Illegitimate children suddenly gaining access to inheritances threatens the political and economical calculations that predicate many Westerosi marriages.

Imagine paying a handsome dowry for your daughter, just so her husband's bastard birthed by some high-born mistress to make use of his maternal family's resources and cheat your legitimate grandchildren out of theirs.

Imagine being married to some lord and now his random bastards threaten the inheritance of your lawful children. Because, hey, the Queen acts like this is fine! This is Catelyn Stark's worst nightmare.

You think you can just sue your husband? What a silly notion. You think you can sue the bastard claimants after your husband is dead? Tough luck, your liege lord may rule in their favour by taking a leaf out of Queen Rhaenyra's book. You think you can appeal to Queen Rhaenyra? How are you going to travel all the way to King's Landing? Good luck with that, maybe you're built different and don't die during this dangerous and expensive journey.

Is this fair for the illegitimate children? Hell no, but Rhaenyra and Viserys are not planning on reforming family law in any meaningful way, because they know what a hassle it would be and how much opposition it would meet!

It reeks of rights for me, but not for thee and I, for the life of me, don't understand the stronghold she has on the liberated feminist brigade.

and finally

d). The Green Coup is not dependent on the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's children.

No. But her committing high treason earns her an automatic disqualification from her right to rule, rendering her claim null and void.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

My take 🤬

On how this is another clear case of antifeminism (by women & men bc women can suck too, obs), doblestandard and maybe even racism, not sure about the latter but wouldn’t be surprised if it also plays a role in the snowball effect, frankly. And also, on how Ayo unfortunately doesn’t know how to handle this, maybe due to her young age, or her short tenure in the biz or bc her PR team, that is supposed to offer guidance in these kinda situations, fucking sucks, or all of the above. And lastly, if I were her publicist this wouldn’t have escalated so absurdly, hereby I offer my services probono to my girl, Ayo 🖤

1- IMO this game sighting was staged, they invited and asked them to go and sit there to get full visibility as a PR move. Those kinda promotions that intend not to look like they are promoting shit but they are. JAW is an expert on that, Ayo isn’t. Thus, his playing with her hair was part of an improv, that was not JAW, he was actually kinda playing Carmy for a sec for the fans, fully knowing they were gonna get photographed, etc. It was just a show! To entice the exact same reaction of the sydcarmy fans that they indeed got >>> frenzy 🤩. Period. Fully calculated by the PR team and innocent. Nothing wrong with that bc as any PR move, it’s consensual, and pre-agreed upon, they all play the game, they all knew it was a promo sighting of the cast to get attention, otherwise they wouldn’t have sat there or in that order. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they actually instructed them to smile, talk to the ppl sitting nearby, take selfies, “hug”, etc, it’s standard PR casual promo procedure. No biggie. The playing with her braids was part of that.

2- The whole cast is always super comfortable with each other, and touchy-feely, they all get along super well, and they trust and respect each other, it has always been like that, which is probably why they were on board with this PR move, to begin with. On numerous previous occasions Ayo and Ebon, for instance, have been holding hands in award shows, Ebon and Fak kissed on stage, Jaw and Ayo always, and I can’t emphasize this enough, always hug and touch as a sign of affection, same thing with Ayo and Molly who are also friends IRL, from even before MG joined TB, so, I hope that my point is clear by now but I will get into it anyway:

3- The fact that this whole thing, that shoulda just been treated as an innocent PR move and absolutely nothing else, and shoulda NEVER bit any of the involved ppl in the ass, specially Ayo, is due to misogyny - lack of correct media handling by those who are in the payroll to do exactly that - lack of Ayo’s experience (not her fault tho, that’s what PR teams are for when they aren’t free loading on you) bc she’s amazing but young and JAW is almost the same age but has like a decade of more experience and thus thicker skin, a divorce under his belt and he’s a guy - and lastly: maybe even racism and here’s why (FYI: I’m pissed! ⚠️ So deal with it):

Who the fuck said that touching a fucking braid is wrong even if they were happily married to other ppl?

Why the fuck Ebon kissing Matty (both happily married, btw) is just an innocent joke between coworkers we all laughed along with, but the literal 3 sec touching of a couple of braids between friends and coworkers that we all know are in other relationships and promoting a show rn is treated by some assholes like fucking adultery?!

Why the fuck that Ayo literally wraps her legs around MG in a game with a big smile, (when both are in a relationship, btw) is not read into in the same way as JAW casually touching Ayo’s hair for a few secs?!

Why a woman should give anyone any fucking explanation on why she let her friend/coworker do that and on why she's clearly not a slut or that they are not cheating on their respective partners, etc?!

Obvs I’m gonna be fucking telling you why right about now:

Because the usual suspects (racists that already hate Ayo just for being successful and hate even more any kinda of interracial interaction both IRL and on TV) are always waiting for the slightest chance to spew their fucking venom online and troll their way into attentionwhoring on every fucking platform they can get their filthy fingers on!

Because even women attack her or question her intentions if she dares to be slightly touched by JAW jumping to the conclusion that they are obs cheating bastards.

And because Ayo bought into it and got caught up in this whole thing due to the aforementioned reasons and unfortunately, her PR team/manager etc don’t have her back. A minor counter-PR move coulda stopped this madness 2 days ago right after the game and nothing woulda happened bc nothing shoulda happened! But I guess they are maybe idiots or too old school who think any publicity is good publicity.

The double standard of lowkey slut shaming or doubting the good intentions of a woman just because someone dares touching her fucking hair in public has to stop!

I’m also defending JAW here, he did nothing wrong and a bunch of prues, racists, idiots, and ppl who can’t tell a promo from real life or fiction from reality completely twisted and turned EVERYTHING and fucking ruined something that shoulda been just cute and fun.

So summing up: 🖕🏿

[aphroditelovesu]

DO OTTO, CRISTON AND THE OTHER CHILDREN OF ALICENT KNOW THAT THE PRINCE IS A BASTARD?

More importantly: does the reader know that he is a bastard? Because I think Daemon's pride and ego couldn't resist telling him, but Alicent wouldn't want her little baby to find out

That's a good question and I'll answer it as I think it, feel free to give your opinion!!

Otto knows that Prince!Reader is Daemon's son and not Viserys', he was always aware of Alicent and Daemon's not so discreet glances and when his grandson was born, he noticed Daemon's restlessness when Viserys was with the child, the not so subtle jealousy that he felt. He, being an intelligent man, connected the dots and was sure that his favorite grandson was a bastard.

Much to his chagrin. But nothing he can't correct, making sure no one knows of the reader's true origins.

Criston is suspicious, although he prefers to believe otherwise, as he is very fond of his Queen and would not think or even imagine that she had committed adultery with her husband. But he strongly suspects it, mostly on Daemon's account. Alicent never said anything, she was pretty hands-on with dealing with the rumours, as her son has Targaryen looks (unlike the Velaryon boys), so even though Criston might know, he pretends he doesn't.

All for the honor of his Queen and protection of the Prince!Reader as he, like the others, is attached to the reader and would not want rumors to destroy Alicent and the prince's reputation.

The other children, I imagine only Helaena and Aemond are aware of, suspecting at the very least. Helaena because of her ""visions"" and Aemond because he is very observant and has already noticed the Rogue Prince's mannerisms towards his brother. It's not like they care, especially Helaena, they love Prince!Reader just the same.

Aemond will defend his brother from anyone who dares to question his heritage.

Whether Prince!Reader knows he's a bastard is tricky enough, but I imagine not, at least not until Viserys's death. Daemon cares for his brother, though his actions say otherwise, he cares for Viserys and he wouldn't want to see him destroyed when he learns that his son isn't really his. He would gnaw at the sight of his brother's fatherly interactions with his son but he would remain silent, at least for the time being.

But when Viserys dies and all the chaos ensues, I can definitely see Daemon tell Prince!Reader the truth, leaving Alicent furious. He doesn't mind her fury, he's had enough and now it's time for him to have his father-son moments with the reader. Alicent could even try to deny it, but the reader is more likely to believe Daemon's stories, making his behavior make more sense.

Now what Prince!Reader does with that information depends a lot. Everything will be even more fragile, especially now knowing he's a bastard, maybe he thinks he doesn't deserve the crown anymore. Or perhaps his next actions could be tragic.

The Targaryen-Hightower family is in for some nasty surprises from this. And it's all because of Daemon Targaryen's ego.

~ Lady L

[fuwushiguro]

Turning Diamonds Into Snow

Tetta Kisaki x f!reader Genre: Smut Notes: I know a lot of people hate Kisaki (me included lmao) and he isn't very popular but I hope some of you guys enjoy this Warnings: 18+, dubcon/noncon, smoking, age gap, adultery, model!reader, sir!kink, cocaine use, substance abuse, stockholm syndrome, coercion, degradation, restraints, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, daddy kink, dumbification, slapping, breeding, creampie. Words: 3k

3am.

It’s 3am and you’re alone in a random diner, little hands clutching onto a steaming cup of coffee. You’re dying for it to cool. Not so much that it tastes disgusting, but enough that you can drink it and stop the tremors wracking through your body. People are staring, though it’s nothing new. You suspect they are likely glances of pity.

Because, truly, you look pathetic.

There are a group of boys from another booth looking over at you. Not boys, actually… men. They’re all in suits. They’ve been asking the waitress for coffee refills since you got here two hours ago.

One man is staring more intently than the others. He’s wearing round glasses. His hair combed over to one side, black and blonde streaking through unevenly. You can’t help but notice the tattoo on his hand.

Sin.

You think he might notice you staring when he puts his coffee cup down. Quickly you look away, but soon enough he’s picking it up again. This time with the other hand.

Punishment.

A bolt of fear strikes through you as you realise this group of men may not be ones you should be stuck in a diner with at this ungodly hour.

“I recognise her.” Hanma states, earning a scoff from the group he’s with.

“No shit. You’ve been staring at her since she walked in.” Kisaki explains, shaking his head and fishing around for a cigarette in the pocket of his expensive looking coat. The waitress approaches with the intention of forbidding him from smoking inside. However a deathly glare from the three men in front of her soon deters her. “Who is she?”

“Dunno. I just feel like I’ve seen her somewhere.” Hanma adds, lighting a flame for Kisaki to ignite his cigarette with.

“Probably a hooker,” Mikey chimes in, too busy focusing on his phone to be fully engaged with the conversation. Hanma rolls his eyes and returns to focus on figuring out who you are.

“That sounds right. World class hooker, hah?” Kisaki joins in with the teasing.

World class.

The words unlock something in Shuuji’s mind. World class…

“Oh fuck. She’s famous, boys.” Hanma states. It’s enough to fully steal Mikey’s attention as he raises a sceptical brow and looks in your direction. Kisaki can’t help but do the same, all three of them staring at you as they wonder if there is any truth to what he’s saying. “Give me your phone, I’ll show you.” Hanma asks.

“Huh? Use your own.”

“It’s dead. Hand it over.”

Kisaki sighs and hands his phone over to his friend. Soon enough he’s on the Instagram app and typing in your username. He places the phone down flat on the table to let mikey and Kisaki look through your profile.

“Cute.” Mikey speaks, weakly.

“She’s a model? Very cute.” Kisaki adds.

“See, look, magazine covers and runway stuff too. Not just an Instagram model, she’s a real one.” he tells them, almost as if he’s defending your honour and life choices.

Kisaki stubs out his cigarette on the table, shuffling out of the booth and standing to his feet. He folds his coat over himself. “Thanks for the tip.” he winks as he walks towards you. Hanma groans, furious he didn’t act first when he had the upper hand.

You stiffen when you notice this terrifying man is actually walking towards you. He smiles, you think he might be trying to ease your nerves. But his smile isn’t sincere, that much is clear. You feel even more scared, if anything.

“Need a refill, sweetheart?” he asks you.

“U-Um…” you can’t answer before he’s signalling the waitress to come over. “Thank you, sir.” you smile, hoping it doesn’t look too forced.

Sir, huh? Oh… he loves the sound of that.

“What are you doing out so late? Been partying… or fall out with your boyfriend?” he wonders, attempting to figure out your situation. He wants to know why you’re alone. If anyone will be asking where you went or if anyone will actually care if you don’t go home tonight.

“Y-Yeah… uh, my… boyfriend.” you stutter, flailing over your own words as you try and get them out as quickly as possible. Kisaki waits for the waitress to top up your coffee, tipping her and winking his thanks as he watches her walk away. He’d rather not have any prying ears, if possible.

“You’re not a very good liar.”

“What?”

“There’s no boyfriend, is there?” he tells you. He takes note of how uncomfortable you look and snickers, trusting it will be enough to lower your high guard. “Don’t worry, I know we look shady but I promise we aren’t.”

“I didn’t say that…” you object, feebly. It’s clear you’ve made a judgement about him before even speaking to him. And if he’s being honest, you’ve likely read him like a book.

But he’s not going to tell you that.

“We’re just off a late flight from a business trip. Trying to get some down time before we go home to our families.” he explains.

That should settle your nerves. Hearing that he’s a businessman with a family. Family will most likely translate to a wife and a few kids in your mind. And you’re not wrong about that. You can see the wedding ring on his finger. He’s even willing to show you his brood of brats if you feel the need to question him about it.

“Where was the trip?” you ask him, curiously. Travel is a weakness of yours. It’s something you’ve always planned to do and would still love to do, if circumstances were different.

“Germany.” he answers, plainly. “See how easy it is to answer questions? Don’t be shy… tell me why you’re here.” he insists. You look around, wondering if it’s the right thing to do. But, really, what’s the harm? It’s not like he can use it against you.

“I had a fight with my family… so… I just wanted some space.”

“Families are tough, babe, I understand.” he nods in agreement. He’s a master manipulator, unbeknownst to you. Offering faux sympathy and mimicking your body language to set your mind at ease. And, Christ, wouldn’t you know it? It’s working. “What was the fight about?”

“I— I’d rather not say…” you tell him. Ah. This should be good.

“C’mon.” he encourages you. He leans over the table, hoping you’ll do the same. “It can’t be that bad.” he whispers.

“W-Well…” you start, quietly, doing as he wished and leaning your face closer to his. “I like to party… but they don’t like the way I party.” you tell him in hushed tones.

“Ahhh, drugs, right?”

“Mhmmn, I like coke.” you smile, almost shyly. Would you look at that. A bona fide cokewhore. “S’not a big deal… y’know? They just don’t get it. They like to overreact, my parents are dumb strict.” you tell him.

“How old are you? You could get your own place.” he suggests, but you shake your head in response.”

“I’m twenty-five. And, yeah, I make a bunch of my own money so I should be able to move out, right? Nope… my psycho fucking parents have control of my bank account.” you explain. This is the most you’ve talked to anyone about this, and he’s a complete stranger. You have no idea why you’re telling him all of this. But it’s simple, really. You’re under his spell.

“I mean… c’mon, kiddo. Probably ‘cause of the coke habit.” he laughs. You sigh in response. “Don’t be like that, baby. I get it.”

“What do you know about it? You’re old enough to be my dad, your partying days are long over.” you respond, rudely.

“Ouch, princess has a bite, hah?” he laughs. He reaches into his coat pocket, his eyes fixated on yours. “I suppose you won’t be interested in this, then.” he grins, showing off a small bag of coke to you as discretely as he can.

“Hah, no way. What does your family think about that?”

“My family can have an opinion when they pay the bills.” he laughs, almost like he’s joking despite being deathly serious. “Interested?” he wonders. You bite your lip, fighting the urge to take his hand off at the generous honour.

“What’s the catch?” you query. With guys like this; offers like this, there’s always a catch.

“Come home with me.”

“Hah. That’s low. What about your wife?” you ask, genuinely curious how he plans to explain this away.

“Baby, I’ve got all the coke either of us could want and I’m taking business trips all over the world just for the fun of it. You think I don’t own more than one home?”

All the coke you could ever want.

It’s an enticing offer. And the more he dangles the bag in front of your face, you know you’re too weak willed to decline. It might be the worst decision you’ll ever make. But… you just can’t say no to the siren call of white powder.

And then, you’re nodding.

He smiles. An entirely evil toothy smile. But you’re already grabbing your jacket and your bag before standing up. He holds out his arm to you, offering you to link with him. He escorts you out. But not before winking at his friends with pride.

“Do you love me?”

It’s a question he’s asked every single day since you met so many months ago. He didn’t need a real answer.

Not at first.

You’d respond with a giggle. Or a boisterous laugh. Sometimes you’d answer his question with a kiss which always created a pathway into you fucking each other until the sun would rise.

Truthfully, you don’t think you’ve ever been so happy.

It’s unconventional, sure, but still you find yourself smiling every day without fail. It’s easy being with Kisaki. It’s easy being his little secret. No one knows where you are, except him. He doesn’t like it when you leave the house. He doesn’t like it when he doesn’t know where you are.

You can’t leave.

You can’t leave him.

He takes you out sometimes. He’ll blindfold you and make you lie down in the backseat of the car so no one can see you and you have no sense of direction. He always takes you to sweet yet secluded places.

The beach.

The mountains.

Eerily beautiful places that you know could be your last destination on earth. Places where he could push you to your demise or drown you so that your body gets lost at sea.

No one would know, just him.

But so far, it hasn’t come to that. He’s good to you, he is. Kisaki knows how much you love coke, so he gets it for you. He keeps you coked up to the eyeballs and sometimes you feel like a whore.

Maybe because that’s exactly what you are.

You fuck him as thanks for your coke.

You’re a coke whore.

“I love you.” you whisper, feebly, with an award winning smile after snorting a line. He grabs your face in one hand, puckering your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. Kisaki looks so serious, always. His eyebrows and constantly at a scowl and you think he has to force himself to rectify that about himself.

But he doesn’t while he looks at you.

At your lips.

He looks between your eyes and your plump, inviting lips until he can’t resist you anymore. He tilts his head and his lips meet with yours.

“I love you when you’re high.” he smiles, muttering words between kisses.

And you laugh, kissing him back so sweetly.

“I love you when I’m high.”

And just like that, you’re weightless. He picks you up by your thighs, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He drops you down roughly onto the dining table. His body weight on top of your is intoxicating. The way he kisses and alternates to nibbling your lower lip while he tries to undress all at once is dizzying.

You watch him as he throws his shirt across the room and he starts to work at his belt.

“Arms up.” he instructs, and you obey. You hold your arms above your head together, knowing full well what he’s about to do. “Such a good little whore, aren’t you? Do anything for me and your habit.” he laughs.

You giggle at him, he likes it when you entertain how mean he can be to you. You’ll accept anything he wants to do to you, because if you don’t you know he can cut you off.

So of course you don’t mind that he wants to bind you with his belt, your wrists restricted and trapped by the leg of the dining table.

You watch him carefully as he circles back around you, climbing on top of you and studying your body beneath him. He grabs two fistfuls of your little vest and rips it apart with ease. Your breasts exposed to the chill in the air and bouncing freely. He cups one, fondling the nipple and almost salivating at your bare flesh.

It seems he wants to suck them, but for whatever reason he’s holding himself back.

“Tell me how bad you want me.” he demands.

“Mmpf, Tetta I’m— ‘m so wet. Please, I need you. M-My panties are—”

“What?” he smirks, “Your panties are what?”

You look away, feeling shy. A rush of heat flocks to your face and you can’t help but squirm under his stare. He hooks his fingers into your shorts and yanks them down in one fell swoop. He can’t stop smiling at the way your legs are wriggling and writhing against the table.

It’s him.

What he does to you is unspeakable.

You can’t decide if you want your legs open or closed. So he just watches in fascination as you try to decide. Though eventually it grows tiresome for him. When your legs are open, he keeps them open. Slapping your inner thighs near your pussy and strictly instructing that you keep them open. He runs a line over the fabric between your pussy lips from your sopping hole up to your clit.

“Oh you little slut. You are fuckin’ soaked.” he speaks, his eyes filled with lustrous malice. He puts his head between your thighs after moving your panties into the crease of your thigh. He repeats what he had done with his finger but with his tongue, and you can’t help but shudder and moan, clamping your thighs around his head. “Oh, no, babe. Your treat was the coke. This pussy is for me. You’re gonna give me a treat now.” he reminds you.

He frees his thick cock and lines it up with your dripping slot. Fresh tears roll down your eyes as he slowly plunges inside of you. It’s good…

It’s good.

It’s so fucking good.

“Dirty coke whore aren’t ya?” he laughs, thrusting in and out of you at a hurried pace. “Say thank you, right fuckin’ now, say ‘thank you, daddy.’”

“Mmpf, thank you! T-Thank you, daddy!” you wail, biting your lip over and over between moans as he ploughs inside of you. Your head is moved quickly to the side. It takes you a moment to register what happened until you feel the familiar sting of his striking palm.

“Stupid cock drunk girl,” he grins, “What are you even thankin’ me for? Do you know, baby? Use that cute li’l head of yours to think about it.”

“I— I— f-for letting me stay here… w-with you!” you tell him. He smiles, raising his eyebrows as if he’s looking for more. “Thank you for the coke, daddy! I love you! I l-love you s’much!” you sob, almost screaming through how perfectly he’s ruining your precious cunt.

“What else? C’mon, gorgeous, you’re happy right now because of daddy, yeah? So say thank you.” he commands. His cock throbs aggressively and the sight of the little gulp you just took slithering down your tiny throat.

“Thank you for fucking me! I love your cock, daddy, I do! T-Thank you for giving it to me!” you explain.

He grunts at that, picking up the pace of his thrusts as he humps into you, moving you further and further up the dining table. You can see a prominent vein bulging in his forehead as he fucks you with a vengeance.

“So tight, so fuckin’ tight baby.” he tells you. “Cumming soon, yeah? Can feel how close you are.”

“Can I, daddy? Can I p-please cum f-for you?” you groan, desperately.

“Yes, baby,” he nods, “Cum on daddy’s cock.”

You only wish you could cling onto him while you unfurl around him. You wish that you could rake your fingers down his back and break the skin. It’s a desperate need as you keep cumming and cumming for him. There’s no way to steel yourself. You have nothing to grab onto to ground yourself and keep you on earth with him. You are in ecstasy, moaning and clamping around him as you get through your high.

And once you finally finish, he can’t help but watch you in awe. The way the aftershocks wrack through your body and you’re spasming on his cock. He pounds you with every single bit of body weight he has behind it, flooding your walls with his white and creamy cum.

He kisses between your breasts and sucks on your tits while he spurts load after load of himself into you, not wanting to waste a drop of his essence. It belongs inside of you.

He belongs inside of you.

When he eventually pulls out, his cum can’t help but throb out of you. With each pulse of your aching pussy, his sperm is forced out. He fingers it back inside, lovingly, rubbing his thumb over your clit at the same time.

“Mine.” he tells you, eyes focused on yours.

“Y-Yes, daddy.”

“I cum in this whenever I want, so it’s mine. And you are mine.”

“Yours, daddy, always.”

“Do you love me?” he queries.

“I love you.”

“Do you want to leave me?”

“No, daddy, I’ll never leave you.”

He smirks at that.

You say it like you have a choice.

© 2022 fuwushiguro

[forhappysake]

What Lurks Within, Pt. 4

Author's Note: Simply enjoy!

Content: When the BAU has their first solid lead on the Denver case, Y/N volunteers to interview the suspect with Luke's help. After gaining a fresh perspective and a new lead, the group decides it's time to examine the personal lives of one of Denver's most important officer's: the police chief.

Warnings: General anxiety, brief mentions of Cat Adams, some bickering, sexism and mentions of domestic abuse, brief mentions of drug use and adultery, established relationship, fluff

As I went to follow Luke out of the room, Spencer caught my arm, taking me by surprise. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” he asked, a hint of anger burning in his eyes. 

“What do you mean, Spencer? I’m doing my job,” I tried to pull my arm away, but he kept me in his solid grasp.

“You haven’t been in an interrogation room since…” he trailed off, letting the silence overtake us. I knew what he was thinking. You haven’t been in an interrogation room since the night you and I took on Cat Adams.

I paused for a moment to take a breath. “I know that, Spencer. Do you think I don’t know that? It’s time for me to stop being afraid and start getting back out there. Besides, this guy is a detective in his own department’s interrogation room, I don’t think he’s going to do anything crazy.” I tried to reassure him, but he kept staring at me with a look that I couldn’t quite read. 

I gently removed his hand from my arm, bringing one of my own up to cup his cheek. “I’m fine, Spence. You said it yourself, I can’t be sidelined.” He met your eyes, and the anger burning there had morphed into genuine concern. 

“I’ll be behind the glass the whole time,” he said quietly, leaning into your touch. 

“I know you will.” With that, I slowly removed my hand from his cheek and followed Luke down the hallway to where he waited outside the interrogation room. Luke opened the door for me, allowing me to slip in first. As I waited for Luke to shut the door, I saw Spencer disappear down the hallway, into a room where he could watch the interrogation behind the protective, one-way glass. 

The door closed with a click and I turned to face the man in front of me. Up close, the forty-something year old Jason Andrews was no looker. His slicked back dark hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in months. His teeth were an odd shade of something yellow, and I thought I noticed the faint scent of body odor wafting about the room. He was relatively short with an average build, and a suit that was a size too big. Luke and I sat down across from him, as Luke rested his file on the table. I could feel Andrews’ eyes on me, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of my acknowledgement just yet. 

“What’s all this about?” Andrews asked, leaning back in the metal chair he’d been sitting in for nearly an hour. 

“We want to talk about your coworker, Ryan Whittendon,” Luke said. I watched Andrews’ expression for any sign of response, and for a brief moment I thought I saw a hint of malice cross his face. 

He let out a breathy laugh, “What do you wanna know? The kid’s a good guy.” Luke opened the file in front of him, thumbing through some papers. He pulled out the article about Whittendon’s promotion to Head Homicide Detective, setting it in front of Andrews. 

“I want to know what you have to say about this.” Andrews crossed his arms in front of his body, tilting his head to examine the article. 

“What am I supposed to say?” Andrews deadpanned. 

I took the opportunity to speak for the first time. I feigned sympathy. “Whittendon beating you out after all your hard work must have been pretty disappointing, huh?” I offered him an empathetic smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 

I could see the smirk forming on Andrews’ face. He turned to Luke. “Well, isn’t she a doll?” Though I couldn’t have seen him behind the one-way glass, I could almost feel Spencer’s eyes boring into the back of my head. I continued my act, twirling a pencil innocently between my fingers. 

Luke chose not to respond, shuffling through the papers again before pulling out the document Emily had shown us minutes before. The number of complaints against Andrews highlighted in neon yellow on the front page. Luke set the paper in front of him, covering up the article about Whittendon. “Are comments like that the reason you have twenty-seven harassment complaints from coworkers?” Luke asked. 

Andrews looked at the file, his smirk replaced by a grimace. He picked up the document for a moment before grunting and setting it back down on the table. “It’s not my fault,” he started, “all these women are just too sensitive to accept good loving from Jason.” His use of the third person almost made me bust out into laughter, but I maintained my persona. I saw Luke’s tough exterior almost crack before he took a deep breath and held on to his tough-guy act. 

“So, it’s not your fault that you weren’t chosen for the promotion? It’s the fault of all those women who just couldn’t see what kind of genuine guy you are?” Luke raised an eyebrow at Andrews. 

“You get me, son,” Andrews smiled. “If they’d loosen up a little bit, this office would be a lot more fun.” 

“Uh-huh,” said Luke. “But like Agent L/N said, it still had to hurt pretty bad when you were passed up for the promotion.” 

Andrews shrugged. “I mean, yeah, it sucked. What are you going to do about it, you know?” I scanned his face for any sign of malice, but found none resting behind his colorless eyes. 

Luke mirrored his shrug. “That’s exactly what we’re here to find out. What did you decide to do about it?” If it was possible, I saw Andrews’ blank stare become even more devoid of thought. There’s no way this guy was smart enough to come up with a scheme of altering files… let alone be our unsub. 

Luke sighed. “Excuse us, Agent L/N and I have to look over something. We’ll be right back.” Luke stood up from the table, walking over to the door and waiting for me to follow. As I rose from my chair, I heard Andrews’ clear his throat. 

“She’s a pretty little thing. I bet she wouldn’t turn me in for trying to have some fun.” I turned to see his dark eyes raking over me. I bit my lip, calculating my response. 

“I’m never opposed to some fun,” I said. Not waiting for his response, I turned quickly and followed Luke out of the room into the area where Spencer waited for us.

“Well, what do we think?” Luke asked. 

I laughed, running my hands over my face and dragging a hand through my hair. “He’s gross. He’s a misogynist. He’s sure as hell not smart enough to be behind all this.” I looked at Spencer, but his eyes remained focused on Andrews in the interrogation room. “What do you think, Spence?”

“I think you’re right,” he said, only glancing away from Andrews to address Luke and I for a brief moment. “He’s not shown any signs that he isn’t telling the truth. If I’m being honest, he just doesn't fit the type, regardless.”

A disappointed silence filled the room as we realized we were no closer to solving the case than we had been before we picked Andrews up. “What a waste of time,” Luke mumbled, plopping down in a chair in the corner of the room. I paced for a moment, wondering how to execute our next moves. A thought hit me. 

“What if I go in there alone,” I started, as Spencer turned towards me with his eyebrows raised, “and see what he has to say about his colleagues?” Spencer and Luke exchanged glances. 

Luke shrugged, gesturing towards the door, “I’ve heard worse plans. Maybe he’ll be more open with you. Be my guest.” I didn’t wait to examine the look on Spencer’s face before I turned and headed out of the room, taking a deep breath before I reentered the interrogation room. 

Andrews’ eyes lit up when I walked in. “Ah, she returns, stunning as ever.” Despite the icky feeling his attention gave me, I offered a flip of my hair and a shy smile in response, sinking down in a chair across from Andrews. 

“Detective Andrews,” I said, raising my voice an octave or two in an attempt to sound as sweet as possible, “we’ve had a lot of trouble with your office lately.” The smirk he wore turned to a confused frown as he uncrossed his arms and leaned back in his chair once again. 

“What do you mean, doll?” he asked, genuinely curious as to what I had to say. 

“Oh, you know,” I twirled a strand of my hair around my fingers, biting at my lips. I hoped whatever I was doing was working. “Just unorganized stuff… messy files… lack of cooperation… you know how it can be,” I shrugged. 

Andrews seemed more serious now, as he lowered his voice. Dropping the nickname, he addressed me by my professional title for the first time. “Agent L/N, I hate to talk bad about my coworkers,”- could have fooled me- “but this office hasn’t been run right in years.” 

I felt myself perk up at the statement. “Care to share?” I asked, leaning forwards to make sure he knew he had my attention. He seemed satisfied by my response, as he leaned forward over the table. 

I could smell the coffee on his breath as he started to speak again. “Off the record,” he shot a glance towards the one-way glass behind me. Andrews looked back at me again, “Chief Graydon never should have been put in charge of this place.”

I leaned back a bit, tapping my pointer finger on the table. “Why’s that?” 

Andrews scoffed. “He can’t control his own household, how’s he supposed to run an entire police department?” I cocked my head to the side, a sign that I expected him to continue. He sighed. “His daughter’s a druggie, his wife has slept with half the guys here, and his son- don’t get me started on Phillip.”

I nodded. It didn't sound like much to go on, but a lead was a lead. “Well, thank you for the information, Detective Andrews. If we need anything else from you, I’ll be sure to let you know.” I offered him a playful smile and a wink, sticking to my persona as I packed up the items on the table. “Sure thing, doll,” the nickname returned. “Oh, and if you ever want to have a little fun, I’d be more than happy to-” before Andrews could finish, the door to the interrogation room swung open. 

Spencer stepped into the room. “Trust me, she doesn’t want to have any fun with you, Detective. If you’ll excuse us,” Spencer’s hand on my lower back guided me out of the room and back to the bullpen of the police station. I felt a mischievous smile creeping on my face as he continued to guide me towards the conference room. 

“What was that, Doctor Reid?” I asked him as we entered the conference room. 

He raised his eyebrows, “You’re telling me you didn’t want me to come save the day.” 

I laughed. “Not particularly, I felt like I was handling myself quite well.” 

“You were-” Spencer’s agreement caught us both off guard. “Maybe I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” 

“So the truth comes out, Doctor,” I smirked at him again, a hint of amusement in my eyes. Spencer rarely displayed jealousy and tried his best to avoid being overly protective, but when he did, I always found it quite entertaining. 

“Really, Y/N, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying yourself in there.” He walked around the conference room table, taking a seat at the head again. 

I shrugged. “I was, just a little. I forgot what an actress I am.” I sat down in a chair next to him, reaching for his coffee cup and taking a drink for myself. He sighed, covering my free hand which rested on the table with his own. 

He suddenly became very serious. “You did great,” he said. 

I nodded. “Thank you, Spence,” I said quietly. Silence fell over the conference room for a moment before Luke walked into the room, carrying a new folder we hadn’t seen before. 

“What’s that?” Spencer asked. 

Luke held the file up. “This? Funny you’d ask,” he tossed it on to the table, sitting across from me on the other side of Spencer. “This is Chief Graydon’s file.” 

My jaw dropped a bit. “We’ve only been out of the interrogation for five minutes. How did you get that so fast?” Luke looked over my head, nodding in the direction of the police station’s main office. I turned to see Richie, the techie, peeking out from over his cubicle, his thick glasses and messy blonde hair evident over the divider. When he saw us looking at him, he immediately ducked back down. 

“You made the tech analyst pull his boss's file?” Spencer asked. 

Luke shrugged. “What’s the problem? He seemed a bit sketched out at first, but I just told him you wanted the file,” he gestured at me. “After that, he was more than happy to. I think he’s got a little crush on Y/N over here.”

I giggled, leaning back in my chair. Spencer gave me a look laced with warning. “What?” I asked, feigning innocence. “I’ve always liked the nerdy, scrawny type,” I patted Spencer’s thigh as Luke let out a roar of laughter. 

“She’s so right, Spencer,” Luke nodded. A bit of a blush had come over Spencer’s cheeks, as had a playful frown. He rolled his eyes, before rising from his seat. 

“Anyway,” Spencer tried to change the subject, “what’s in the file, Luke?”

Luke set the file on the table, spreading out the papers to allow himself a better look. “Graydon’s had some questionable arrests in the past, but he’s always gotten off clean. He was suspended in ‘04 for a pending domestic case against him, filed by his wife, but those charges mysteriously disappeared.”

It was then I noticed that JJ was standing in the doorway of the conference room. “What is up with the treatment of women by leadership in this office?” she asked, shaking her head incredulously. I nodded in agreement as she pulled the door shut behind her and sat down next to me at the table. Andrews with the verbal harassment, Graydon’s domestic charges… what a lovely bunch. 

“What about his kids? Andrews was pretty adamant that they were a part of the problem.” I asked.

Luke shuffled through the papers. “There’s nothing in here about his kids. If they’ve been in trouble with the law before, Garcia can pull their information.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket before pressing a few buttons, the line rang to life. 

“Penelope Garcia, knows what you want and has got what you need,” Penelope’s voice rang through the conference room. 

“Hey, Garcia. We need to know if you can tell us more about Police Chief Graydon… specifically about his children.” Luke said. 

“If? If I can find anything? Do you even hear yourself?” Penelope’s scoff was evident through the phone.

“I know, I know. If anyone can do it, it’s you,” Luke joked. 

“Give me thirty minutes, I’ll call you back with the rundown.” Her end of the line died once again. Luke wore a small smile, which he tried to hide by running a hand over his mouth. I made a mental note to ask him about his little banter with Penelope later. 

“Until then,” I said, looking around the room, “where are Emily, Rossi, and Matt?”

“Well, let’s see,” JJ started, staring up at the ceiling and counting off team members on her fingers. “Matt and Rossi are at the coroner's office getting updates on the final cause of death for the latest three victims. Last I knew, Emily was going to talk to Whittendon about his original files to see who all would have had access to them prior to their arrival in D.C.”

“I see,” I looked around the room for a clock. “What time is it?” 

Spencer pulled back the sleeve of his suit jacket, checking his watch, “It’s 8:30 a.m.” 

I sighed. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I haven’t eaten real food since noon yesterday.” The three others nodded in agreement. 

“I saw a diner down the street. Do you guys want to grab some breakfast?” Luke asked. 

“Yeah, actually. That sounds really good to me,” JJ said, looking to Spencer and I for our response. I nodded in agreement and Spencer shrugged, as if to say he’d follow us wherever. 

“Awesome,” Luke said. “Don’t worry, it’s my treat.” 

“Whoa,” said JJ, taking a step back in fake shock, “when did you start throwing money around?”

Luke laughed, “When I found Rossi’s wallet in the back seat of the SUV.” He held up the small leather wallet and my jaw dropped. 

“Luke, you can’t use our boss’s credit card to buy us breakfast!” I said with wide eyes. 

“C’mon, this guy’s a millionaire. I don’t think he’s gonna notice $30.” Luke opened the door to the conference room, allowing JJ to walk through first before following her towards the precinct door.

To be continued...

[bluesophie]

Here’s the thing about names in The Secret history by Donna Tartt:

While reading comments to posts about Charles and Camilla Mcaulay I saw so many people saying that at first they thought it was about the English royal family

And you know what? I think it actually makes sense

You see, Donna wrote The Secret history in the 1980-1990s and at that time media was speculating about Prince Charles’ adultery with Camilla Parker Bowles

Everyone was talking about their affair, everyone knew that there was a romantic relationship between them, even though it was held as a secret since Charles was married to Diana

If my guess is correct then it’s such a smart hint that Donna gives her readers! I wonder if back then when reading the book people immediately started to suspect that the twins’ relationship wasn’t as innocent as it appeared to Richard

[darkkissx]

Not made for one another.

jpm x fem!reader

warnings; adultery, mentions of murder, angst, toxic relationships, mentions of sex.

a/n: this is kinda short; but I was in an angsty mood lmaoo

now playing: drunk walk home -mitski

It wasn’t always this way. He used to show you off, buy you fancy gifts and dresses; declare his un-denying love to you whenever you were sad. But you blinked and it was all gone. In a quick breath, a small flicker of light; he was no longer yours.

He used to make sweet, passionate, sometimes rough; depending on his mood, love to you almost each night; until he stopped. He was gone every night, leaving you alone in the quiet room that echoed of your sobs and sniffles. He would return, reeking of another woman’s expensive perfume, that often times matched the scent of the countess during the rare times you would see her.

It made you go crazy, the feeling of sadness quickly replaced by the bitter feelings of hatred and disgust. You wanted to slap him, tie him down and stab him repeatedly until you could no longer feel your arms. But you couldn’t; you still loved him. And a small, tiny part of you knew that. No matter how much you tried to ignore it. You loved James, and you always would.

You sat in bed, the pale moonlight shining down on you; enhancing your features mildly and giving your skin a ghostly hue.

A familiar voice that you had grown to despise, ripped the thoughts from your head. They were pushed to the back of your mind as you raised a brow.

“James? What are you doing here? You usually fraternize with Elizabeth for a lot longer.” You spoke viciously, your eyes that once held love and adoration replaced with despise and untrust.

“Whatever are you talking about, dearest?” The old-timey man in front of you with a thick accent raised an amused brow. His dead, cold eyes now holding amusement and cruelty.

“Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?” You spoke, a slight shake in your voice as you stood up from the bed in which James once held you affectionately.

“Figure out what?” His face was unreadable, yet he faked cluelessness as he talked with you.

“Your little love affair with the countess!” You breathed out, crossing your arms and sending a glare towards the man.

He raised a brow once more, as he stared down at you. You wanted to shrink away, to hide. His strong gaze made your knees buckle, feeling vulnerable; but you stood your ground, staring back into his unloving eyes.

“Tell me now, do you love me; or her.” You spoke finally, awaiting his response as anxiety creeped up your spine.

He didn’t respond, keeping a tight hold on his cane; normally used as a weapon, which gave you just the answer you were suspecting. With a huff, you whipped around, reaching under the bed and grabbing your long ago discarded suitcase.

“What are you doing?” He asked in amusement, as if this were a game to him.

“I can no longer share a roof with a man whose heart belongs to another.” You spoke, throwing all of your belongings into the black suitcase; only tossing in a few things James had gifted to you.

He didn’t respond, he just watched as you ran around; collecting all of your things.

You zipped your suitcase closed, grabbing it and offering him a glare; before storming out of the hotel room.

You stomped down the hallway, tears building in your eyes, each emotion you were feeling playing a part.

You walked up to Liz sadly. “Hey Liz..” you mumbled, you voice breaking sadly. You allowed yourself to be vulnerable in front of her; since she was one of the only nice people in this hell hole trapped with unloving souls.

“Hey honey, what happened?” She asked, concerned grazing her features as she glanced between you and your suitcase.

“I’m leaving. For good, this time.” You spoke, your voice raspy and dry; from the cries you had choked out earlier. “James no longer loves me, and I refuse to sit by and watch him be head over heels for another woman.” You admitted, a sorrow filled expression lying atop of your features.

Liz nodded slowly, taking your hand in hers. “I’m proud of you, honey. And you can always stop by and come see me; I’ll keep James and Elizabeth away.” She furrowed her brows, the ghost of a comforting smile representing itself in her face.

“Thank you Liz, goodbye.” You offered a heart broken smile, as you turned and walked out of the large hotel.

You felt the eyes of your past lover burn a hole into the back of your head through the window, as you abandoned the sinister place you had once called home.

[aita-blorbos]

WIBTA for having my son killed?

I (M60) recently married my son (M23)'s beloved fiancée (F23). Please note that this was a political arrangement. Ever since the marriage, my son has been depressed. My wife is also deeply unhappy and clearly does not love me. I know this because I caught her in the act of being alone, without a single lady-in-waiting as a chaperone! Naturally, I assumed that she must have quickly dismissed an illicit 'companion' before I arrived - namely, my son. As punishment, I banished my wife's best friend from court, but that still doesn't solve the root of the problem: I suspect adultery between my wife and my son.

I am the king, so it is very important that my wife is faithful to me. It is also important that my son doesn't embarrass me in public. However, at a ceremony where everybody in the kingdom is invited to watch heretics get executed, my son had the audacity to demand to be made regent of one of my provinces. I wouldn't let myself be tricked. I knew he wanted access to an army he can use to kill me, and if he didn't do that, he'd probably try to fight for religious freedom. I refused, and he drew his sword on me! Fortunately, my most trusted confidant (M21) who I met a week ago was there to disarm and arrest him.

Not long after that, my mistress (F25) stole my wife's jewelry box and showed it to me. It turns out that my wife keeps a portrait of my son with her most valued possessions! This is as close to confirmation that they are having an affair as I can get. I am now faced with a difficult decision. My son has stolen my wife from me and threatens to tear down everything our dynasty has fought for! The anguish my son's betrayals have caused me will hound me to my grave. Yet I fear for my immortal soul were I to order his death.

I asked my religious advisor (M80) what I should do, and he told me that God wants me to kill my son. HOWEVER, I don't fully trust his input, because he also tried to threaten me into killing my confidant - my first love! So, I'm trying to find a second opinion. WIBTA for eliminating a traitor and adulterer who is also my son?