#unfortunately they are in English which they do not understand...

[durzarya]

Aww we managed not to get angry at each other with grandma when she said something idiotic she heard in TV

[blueskittlesart]

is detcon actually good

no <3 hope this helps

[bmpmp3]

the epic highs and lows of trying to read an ongoing shounen manga

[rosewatergrapefruit]

the only thing fully holding me back from being a full on I was born in the wrong country uwuw 😭😫 Anglophile is because that is so fucking embarrassing. luckily

[midnghtprentiss]

possessive - jack abbot

a/n: so i have this scenario in my head but idk if i love it or hate it, it’s up to you at this point 😭 sorry for any misspellings, english is not my first language

pairing: jack abbot x f!pediatrician!reader

summary: jack abbot is a possessive man and we love that

warnings: dr abbot being hot, myrna being inconvenient as always, medical inaccuracies, let me know if i missed something (gif not mine i just find it here)

Possessive is a word referred to ownership or a relationship of belonging between one thing and another.

Is the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Jack Abbot was a possessive man.

Not an inconvenient possessive man. He was subtle. One hand at the end of your back. Picking you up at the end of your shift when he isn’t working. Talking to you with the softest voice. Sharing coffee or a granola bar he had in his pocket for you. The glances to other men when you’re walking by.

He had nothing to fear with you. You sleep and wake up with him every day. He knew exactly how to show someone that you belonged to him without saying a word. He hasn't put a ring on your finger and yet everybody in the ED understands you’re his girl and nobody was crazy to question him.

It was supposed to be your day off. You already made plans with Emery and Parker to go out for dinner and have some drinks like you do every month. That’s your way of gossiping and keeping the bond stronger, especially working at male dominated fields. Keeping the girls together makes the job easier and better. You were even planning to invite Samara to the next dinner.

The best thing about the trio was initially to piss Jack off and because you worked so well together and a friendship naturally bloomed - and thank god it did. The funniest, dirtiest and best conversations came out so easily between you that it was impossible to keep track of the actual dialogue topic when you combined.

Unfortunately your phone vibrated in your purse during dinner with a message from Robby letting you know there was an emergency of a child that fell and the parents were asking for you. These things were pretty normal in your routine when you work with pediatrics emergencies. In less than fifteen minutes you were walking towards the ED entrance like you weren't just discussing panties over drinks.

Worst part of it? You had no time to change your clothes. So you were standing at the nursing station with the most expensive Valentino dress you own, brand new shoes and your favorite coat to protect you from the cold.

The scrubs were a protocol when you’re working and you were not. You hated to work without them and hated even more that your backup scrubs were not in your car. Jack must’ve taken them to wash and didn’t put them back.

Jack didn’t see you coming and he had no idea of the dress you chose for your girls night. Bridget was already laughing when you entered, holding you something to cover up until you have to leave again. She quickly took your overcoat and gave you a white coat, which helped a little but not too much because of your heels clicking at the floor.

“Wow doc, didn’t know you could look that hot.” You heard Garcia teased and shook your head laughing. “You should show up like this more often, as an experiment of course.”

“I appreciate your words Yoyo. Maybe next time I'll show up with your favorite color.” She blew you a kiss and walked away laughing.

“He’s going to need to be sedated when he hears you’re in his ED looking like this” Robby chuckled when he found at the nursing station. “Sorry I've called you, they insisted on being you. They are barely letting Mel work there.’

“It’s fine, Robby. I don’t like my day off anyway.” You winked and went straight to the room they were in.

The child parents came running to you the moment you entered their plain sight. Dr. King was accompanying them before you arrived, describing the situation in detail and how she dealt with them. And for her face you knew how those parents weren’t easy to deal with.

“Dr (Y/L/N), this is Jamie, 10 month old, previously healthy, fell from the crib around 9 p.m.. According to the mother, he tried to pull himself up using the crib rails, lost his balance, and fell over the side of the crib, landing directly on the floor. He cried immediately for about fifteen minutes, with no loss of consciousness and no vomiting. The mother noted only mild bruises in the right frontotemporal region, with no other signs of trauma. He remained active, fed normally, and showed no changes in consciousness or behavior. “ You heard Mel's words with attention while examining the child.

“You ordered any exams, doctor King?” She nodded and passed you the chart to look at.”

“A CT, x-ray and some labs just to make sure everything is perfectly fine.” You nodded, shaking your head.

“Excellent.” You smiled at her and turned your attention to the parents.

“Does he cry when he moves? Has he had any seizures? Allergies or something we need to know?” They kept denying. “Why don’t you bring him early? It’s almost one in the morning.” The parents kept their silence and you shrugged your shoulders, looking at them. “Alright then. Doctor King will accompany you to the CT and the x-ray.”

Something you loved about yourself was the way you’re pretty centered and rigid about your job, especially working around and with children. Fighting with parents? You do every shift. Making the little ones laugh? You did it too. You were tough and nice but at the same time the children absolutely loved you. The most common thing to see was you holding a child mid shift and laughing about it with the nurses.

He was waiting for you at the nursing station. Coffee in hand. Jaws tighten when his eyes land on you. Eyebrows raised while he analyzed your shoes. You leaned closer to him, enough to look professional and only a little mischievous so he could smell your new perfume - the one he bought you.

“Hi there, doctor Abbot.” You touched his arm and smiled, knowing exactly what he was going to ask. “Peds emergency, they have to call the best.”

“This is not workplace clothing.” His hand reached yours, quickly brushing your finger.

“I had a nice time at dinner, thanks for asking, by the way.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll go home when his exams are finished. I won’t even leave this spot.” You sit in the vague chair and cross your arms.

“Nice coat, actually.” Dr. Jack Abbot. It was his coat. “You should work with this more often since you don’t want to change your last name.”

Before you can even replied you heard Myrna screaming at the other side of the room.

“Nice ass, MacDreamy.” She pointed at you.

“Been working out lately, Myrna. Do you like it?” You teased her and she giggled.

“Watch out or I’ll steal your girl, Abbot. I killed a man before and I can do it again.”

When you turned to look at Jack again, he was serious. His forehead was tense and his knuckles white from holding his coffee mug. His hair was a little messy and there was some blood in his scrubs.

Hot. Really hot.

He didn’t care when your friends, female friends, flirted with you because he knew you flirted back joking. He respected your boundaries and you respected him too. You still find it pretty amusing how he gets all possessive over small things, lucky you he didn’t see the dress you were wearing underneath the white coat.

Vintage Valentino, sheer black chiffon, off-the-shoulder neckline with the fabric draped down the arms, creating a dramatic, sophisticated look. At the bust, a large central bow, asymmetrical and flowing skirt, with soft, layered fabric and a high front slit that reveals the left leg. Jack never complained or talked badly about your clothing, he actually enjoyed seeing you wearing the clothes you liked - he enjoyed taking off more. He describes being an extension of your personality.

“Want to talk about that dress?” He lifted up the white coat a little. “Showing legs and neck like crazy, hm?”

“Nope, we’re not doing this here. You’re working.”

“Why not? I thought you like showing off a little too much.” He crossed his arms and you sigh.

“Oh my God, is this foreplay?” His eyes locked on yours. “Fuck it, I’m into it.”

“Just stay here until the boy it’s back.” He stared at you for a few seconds and you tried to control your smile.

“Are you jealous, Abbot?” You heard Shen comment and buried your face in your hands. He just gave him the nastiest look you’ve ever seen in your life and you can tell he already gave you some looks at you in the bedroom.

The exams took a while to get ready and when they returned to the emergency room, you met them again holding a tablet to explain the situation to them. Immediately the little boy was already in your arms, resting his head over your shoulder.

“The CT and the x-ray both came normal, no injury or other systemic trauma. He’s safe and sound. If you notice something is different, bring him immediately.” You hold his little hand and smile brightly. “You’re lucky to be here today, Jamie.”

The parents asked a few questions about the exams and the therapy you chose for him and after they left you stayed inside the empty room for a while before you left to grab the rest of your stuff.

Jack was talking something with Robby when you approached them, taking off the white coat that belonged to your man and putting on your warm and cozy overcoat. His eyes went straight to your almost bare chest, he had to scan the room pretty quickly for perverts watching you. One drunk guy screamed that he wanted you to talk to him, Myrna said something about your ass again and this time Mel came in complementing your legs.

“You should be grateful you weren’t there when Emery and Parker saw me, you probably be in jail now.” He helped you close the buttons of your coat.

“Remind me to put a goddamn ring on your finger.” He whispered closer to you, making you burst out laughing.

“What a romantic proposal. I’m really emotional.” Jack rolled his eyes, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I already heard some jerks talking about you and I didn’t appreciate their tone.” You passed your arms around his shoulder - ignoring the PDA rule you established for work.

“Yeah, I’m still sleeping in your bed tho.” He agreed, laughing softly. “Gotta go now. Emery is waiting for me at Five Guys and I could kill for a burger now.”

“Be careful, beautiful.”

“Try to go home in one piece.” You squeezed his shoulder and winked before walking away.

When you arrived for your next shift there was a big diamond on your finger and the biggest smirk on Jack's face when people started to talk about it.

[egurt]

overblot boys x Crowley's child!reader

summary: boys found out that reader is crowley's kid.

‼️English isn't my first language!! (⁠´⁠;⁠︵⁠;⁠`⁠). Reader is not Yuu! GN reader. (what kind of relationship the reader has with the characters is not specified, it can be perceived as romantic or platonic. (it is implied that you are close)

Riddle Rosehearts.

it happened by accident! Your phone rang, and he, like a polite and responsible good boy, seeing the contact "father" lit up, took the phone to you.

but he didn't expect to hear the Headmage's voice on the other end of the line.

Riddle patiently waits for you to finish the conversation and only then asks.

"I don't want to seem rude, I only heard it out of the corner of my ear, but.. Was it the Headmage? Why is he listed in your contacts as father?"

"Because he IS my father, Riddle.."

well, that was a very unexpected confession.

in any case, his attitude towards you will not change in any way, even if you are the child of such an irresponsible and infantile person as Crowley. Riddle's parents are no better, so it is not for him to judge.

but most likely he will ask worriedly if Crowley is coping with his fatherly responsibilities. It's important for Riddle to know that Crowley isn't being as disgusting with you as he is with his students.

Please calm poor Riddle down, otherwise he'll ask Trey to adopt you.

Jamil Viper.

In short, you were careless enough to blurt out about your father to Kalim when you were talking about families.

and Kalim, unfortunately, is not the type to easily keep his mouth shut, especially when it has to do with his friends. Moreover, you didn’t say it was a secret, did you?

Anyway, when Kalim found out, Jamil found out just as quickly after that.

Hmph. Why did you tell Kalim first and not him? Jamil could definitely keep a secret, unlike Kalim.

Jamil doesn’t raise this topic with anyone, and asks Kalim not to tell others, because if you haven’t said anything before, then there must have been a reason for it.

He won’t say outright that he knows.

But Jamil will definitely somehow jokingly, perhaps consciously, and perhaps not on purpose, let you know that he knows: - "Here, eat. It's definitely better than what they feed you at home."

or "Did you know that some types of snakes feed on birds?"

Yes, yes, Jamil, I know, but why does it sound like a threat..

But it won't go further than harmless jokes and hints, after all, if you are friends with him, not caring about the status of his family, then he should respond in kind.

Leona Kingscholar.

You two were just relaxing in the botanical gardens, your head on his chest, while he looked at the night sky.

Either it was the warm night atmosphere that affected the topics of your conversations, or it was your presence that made him behave more openly. But is the reason so important if it feels so personal and pleasant?

Your conversation turned to your parents, during which, you had the imprudence to jokingly say: - "Yes, I understand, that's why I don't tell anyone that Crowley is my father, you know what associations immediately arise? I don't want people to think that I'm the same as him, although he really is a good dad-"

"Herbivore, what."

Leona interrupts your tirade, and asks again if he heard everything correctly. The Headmage? Your father? Why didn't you tell him before? Oh yeah, you just said why-

Leona knows what it's like to have false expectations put on you because of who your parents are, so he definitely wouldn't do that.

He doesn't care, you're his friend, his herbivore, it doesn't matter whose blood you have if your personality has nothing to do with that… crow.

And Leona was wrong, hah, you're not a herbivore. (Crows eat carrion, right?)

But you'll definitely get a few new nicknames.

"Hey, birdie-"

Azul Ashengrotto.

You were keeping Azul company while he worked, he was busily signing something, while you were lounging on that black couch in his office, staring at the ceiling.

Azul started talking about today's events at Mostro Lounge: Floyd broke some expensive equipment God knows how, but Azul's budget clearly didn't include such sudden and large expenses.

You, like a good friend, suggested: "Oh, I can ask Dad to scrape something out of the school budget, I'm sure he has enough."

Azul, not quite understanding, asks again what you mean, and you casually answer: "Well, I can ask the Headmage,my dad.. He'll definitely listen to me!" - with the most innocent look in the world.

and Azul just: ???

It took you a few minutes to explain what was what before he finally got it. Crowley is your father? Damn, how did he not notice before, and he still considers himself the most attentive and observant! It was so obvious: Your everyday outfits almost always included feathers, your overall gothic-steampunk(?) aesthetics… You're a copy of your father!

Don't be surprised if after this news Azul starts offering you all sorts of "lucrative deals" a little more often, suspiciously connected with your connection with the director!

Yes, you are friends, but is it so bad that he will try to turn this at least a little bit to his advantage?

Vil Schoenheit.

Vil knew before you even told him directly. He only needed one look at you and Crowley when you were standing next to each other to know who was daddy's baby.

Again, it's pretty obvious, considering that you and your father have similar styles in clothing and aesthetics. Gothic, steampunk, imitation feather shapes on some items of clothing and the feathers themselves.

Not a single detail will escape the watchful eye of a Beauty Queen!

But why guess when he can ask directly? Vil did just that.

You, slightly impressed by his accurate observations, confirmed his assumptions.

I don't think Vil's attitude towards you will change, I doubt he cares who your parents are, as long as they fulfill their parental duties and treat you well.

he'll definitely put together bird/crow related outfits for you if you want, or send you mood boards in that aesthetic, even if it's too dark to wear on a regular basis.. But style has no boundaries if it's good,right?

Idia Shroud.

Ortho has the data of all the students, just like that.

Yeah, it's probably a little creepy, but still, look me in the eye and tell me that Idia didn't give Ortho access to the database of all the students at the NRC.

Just one day, Idia was scrolling through this very data of the students out of boredom and came across information about you and saw your last name. Wait, isn't it the same as..?

He's surprised, but most of all he's surprised that he didn't notice how none of the teachers address you by your last name, but only by your first name. Although, it's not like he often attends classes, but still!

Idia doesn't bring this topic up with you (what if you'll suddenly think he's a creep if you find out how he found out), again, he doesn't care who your parents are, even if he's definitely worried about whether the Headmage is fullfil his parental responsibilities.

"Ahaha, I love this trope in anime where the character's parents turn out to be someone powerful and no one knew, isn't it cool, Idia?….Idia, what's up with your face?"

Malleus Draconia.

You told him yourself almost immediately. Malleus just has this aura… You don't want to hide anything from him.

"The other students are afraid of me because my parents are rulers." "Cool.I'm afraid that the other students will avoid me if they find out that my father is an annoying bird."

Yey, besties!

He's definitely the one who's most worried about your well-being. He knows how Crowley treats Yuu firsthand, and he definitely doesn't want the Headmage to treat his own child like that.

Hm? Did you have a fight with your father? It's okay, Malleus will sort it out.

No no, what are you saying, he definitely didn't threaten Crowley to apologize to you.

No no, both of you definitely didn't threaten Crowley to treat Yuu better.

bonus: given the latest theories in the fandom..you're two like..siblings?

[sweets3rial]

the tutor in dorm 24B

inspired by this request

meantutor!re2!leon x fem!reader

summary: you have no choice but to go to your math professor for help in the class. unfortunately, he can't help you. but he knows a certain blonde that can, top of his class, perfect scores on everything, just the tutor for you.

tags: college!au, math/stats terminology, ooc leon, leon is an asshole, leon & reader have attitudes, dom!leon, slightly jealous leon, degrading kink, praise kink, leon talks you through it, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (use safety guys!), oral sex, cunnilingus, clit stimulation, teasing, etc.

word count: 9.8k 🧍‍♀️ (this shit long sorry)

math is horrible. you’ve never been bright in math, plus it isn’t fun. it’s only fun when you understand what you’re doing. especially statistics, which is a whole other level for math. there are symbols, very important definitions and strategies, formulas and techniques, very precise calculations and data.

you never understood what the teacher was writing up on the board when you’d step into lecture. he moved fast and spoke even faster, you’re hands would cramp trying to keep up with him and you’re notes were a jumbled mess.

even if you tried so hard, you just couldn’t understand. your mind was constantly running, like a hamster on a wheel though it was nonstop. it was the same schedule pretty much every day. you wake up, rush out of your dorm, race to class, get to class huffing and puffing, and you do this three more times for your other classes.

then after a long day of learning, you’re off to work at the cafe down the street. it’s a very famous cafe, especially with it being so close to campus. convenient for students who needed work and wanted a nice coffee.

after work, you’d go back to your dorm on the brink of passing out, but of course, you had to study.

it was a constant look, a constant cycle that seemingly never broke until summer break. your days were starting to blend together and you were slowly driving yourself insane. at one point, you put stats at the back of your mind since you were so focused on an essay for your english class.

little did you know that you’d pay for that in the future. you missed one class, one lecture - and it seemed like you missed a whole semester.

you went to class the next day, after turning in that very important essay, and you were completely lost. you tried talking to your classmate about what the professor was talking about but she was just as lost as you.

if you thought stats was hard before, it’s even harder now. you looked over your notes from before, trying to correlate those to the ones now. though, nothing made sense.

that led you to where you are now. a week later, still very much lost, and you’re grade dropping with every single assignment.

you toyed with the drawstring of your sweats, blinking your dry eyes and nibbling at the dry skin of your lip. you were trying so hard to stay awake as your professor scrolled through your grades. his eyes were squinted and his knuckles pressed to his lips.

he had a pensive look on his face, looking from your scores and back to you.

you could practically read his mind. it was embarrassing and shameful. he took off his glasses with a sigh and turned his chair to face you.

“you were doing really good in the beginning but after chapter three i mean,” he paused gesturing his head over to the computer where the D’s and F’s lined up like a pattern.

“what happened? chapter three was so long ago why didn’t you reach out?”

you never understood why some professors didn’t take students' lives into consideration. some professors think that students have no life while others are very considerate. this professor wasn’t one of those professors.

he didn’t understand why his students couldn’t understand his material or why people asked stupid questions. even though, at the beginning of the semester he mentioned:

‘even stupid questions are good questions’

then when that stupid question is asked. he sits there with a disappointed look on his face and quite literally embarrasses that student in front of everyone. which is why, you don’t ask questions at all. you don’t want to be embarrassed, especially not in front of 30 other people.

“i’m sorry, my life has just been really hectic lately and-“ you rambled, running your hands over your face with a heavy sigh. until, of course, you were interrupted.

“no worries, i understand but,” he paused again, judging you with his eyes and completely ignoring the fact that you were on the brink of a mental breakdown. “you gotta reach out for help if you need it.”

even if you tried, it probably wouldn’t help. his teaching methods are like tough love. harsh but it’s supposed to teach you a lesson. spoiler alert, it never does.

he reached over for a pen and a sticky note and you watched him scribble down a few numbers and a name.

“i can’t really help you since my life is also hectic,”

alright, asshole. you’re the fucking professor you should be helping me. you said to yourself, never in your life did you want to slap someone so bad,

“but i can refer you to one of my top students.” he pushed the sticky note toward you. you picked it up and read the name at the top, his dorm number, and his phone number.

great, just what you needed a tutor.

you weren’t sure how exactly this ’top student’ was passing this class with flying colors and it was to the point your professor was impressed. which he never is and never was.

either this top student is sucking your professor's dick behind the scenes or is actually insane.

you read the name at the top as your professor began to speak.

“his name is Leon, he’s gotten perfect scores on every quiz and test, very smart and a decent kid,”

yup, Leon is definitely sucking this man's dick.

Leon’s contact info and his dorm room were written underneath his name. it was odd that he didn’t tutor in the library like the rest of the tutors did. though, given the fact he’d rather tutor in his dorm, he probably isn’t a tutor at all.

“i contacted him before our meeting today, he’s expecting you.

“oh, okay.” you nodded slowly, pocketing the small slip of paper. you weren’t so sure if you were comfortable being alone in a random dorm with some guy you’ve never met, but for the sake of your grade you were willing to do so.

you finalized your meeting with your professor and left his office even more unsatisfied than when you came. you were hoping he’d give you a run down on what you missed but instead, he completely dismissed you to his top student.

you left the building phone and slip of paper in hand, you weren’t sure if you should text him or not. ultimately, you decided it could wait. you were exhausted and maybe a small nap would be helpful rather than going to this guy's dorm where you probably wouldn’t learn jack shit.

—

Leon waited for you. he was told to expect you around the afternoon, so he canceled his plans with his friends, he went home to his dorm, tidied up, and put on a more suitable outfit. he never wanted to be a tutor it was tiring trying to teach someone something over and over again.

plus, he had doubt in his skills as well. he would be to blame if someone were to get a bad score or if they failed their exam.

but when his stats professor made a deal with Leon, he decided to take it. if he were to tutor you and possibly future students, he’d put in a good word with any police academy he wanted to join.

Leon wasn’t so sure how his professor would get that to happen but it was better than nothing at all.

so he waited, half an hour went by and then an hour and another. at this point, he was tired both physically and mentally. he sat leaned onto his desk with an elbow, tapping his pen against his notebook. it didn’t take long for him to catch the hint that you weren’t coming.

and just as he was about to strip his clothes to take a nap, there was a knock at his dorm door. his hands dropped at his sides and a sigh left his mouth, though he tried to maintain a calm act even though he was close to bursting into flames.

he was irritated, you were two hours late, he was already drained from a long day of sprinting around campus for his classes and he just got dumped not too long ago. he does not have time to be in a good mood.

albeit, he still opened the door with a smile.

“hi, you must be-“

“yes, i’m so so sorry! i know i was supposed to be here hours ago,”

Leon let out a small laugh, mumbling under his breath, “yeah, you were…”

unfortunately, you heard that part, and your heart dropped. at first glance, this guy looks like a sweetheart. he had a nice face, his cheeks a little round but his jaw very defined and sharp. his eyebrows were relaxed and a thick brown, and his dirty blonde hair was split down the side and a little long — the ends just touching the height of his cheekbones.

his lips were plump and a nice pink, glasses were perched up on his head and you guessed he was probably wearing them earlier.

his chin had a small indent, a little butt chin almost. he had two beauty marks on his throat, right on his adams apple, and a few small ones on his face.

he wore a basic dark blue sweater, even with the baggy fabric you could still tell his shoulders were nice and broad and he paired his sweater with basic grey sweats.

he was very attractive, tall, and muscular but that baby face was throwing you off. it wasn’t a bad thing, rather it was intriguing. how are you supposed to focus when there’s a very attractive man tutoring you? maybe your professor is secretly setting you up.

“oh god, i’m so sorry. i probably should’ve gotten your number from our professor,”

“uh no worries, just come in.” he said in a hurry, opening the door further for you. you nodded to him a thank you and stepped inside.

his dorm smelt of fresh mint and lemon, there was a hint of spice in the air as well. it was pretty warm, which made you guess the heater was on.

he shut the door behind you, walking past you as you stayed in the doorway to slip off your shoes. you took around the room for a second. his bed was up against the left side of the room, away from the sight of the door. dark midnight blue sheet, with a matching duvet and pillowcases.

underneath his bed were a bunch of bins, probably clothes and extra storage. against the back wall was his desk, piles of papers and different books were all stacked neatly at the side. the large window above the desk allowed a natural hue of light to cast down into the room, giving the room a pale yellow glow.

against the other wall was a dresser and closet. his room was very generic, with some posters and photos taped to the walls and a whiteboard with messy scribbles depicting his schedule for the week.

“so uh, how much did the professor tell you?” he asked, sitting at his desk chair and swerving around towards you and he lowered his glasses down to his eyes. you took a few steps further into his dorm, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder.

“um he just said to meet you here and that you could help,”

“well no shit,” he scoffed, catching you off guard and sending a tense feeling through your muscles. “did he say what you needed help with? which chapter? which concept?” he asked and each time you shook your head like a dumbass.

“i’ve kind of been struggling the whole semester i just-“

“why didn’t you get help earlier?” Leon asked curiously, tilting his head to the side. unlike your professor, who seemed actually concerned this time. but that concern was probably for himself instead of you.

“i was embarrassed, i guess,” you shrugged.

he sighed, dropping his head and nodding his it up an down.

“okay well, uh please sit anywhere really uhh,” he got up from his desk chair and walked over towards the other corner of his dorm. there was another small chair in the corner, albeit a bit old, and he brought it over to his desk.

“sorry, i’m not used to visitors.”

“no worries,”

you sat down on his old chair and placed your tote bag into your lap as he opened up his computer. you watched as he brought his glasses up in front of his eyes and opened up the course page. “so uh, what did you need help with?”

his tone was harsh, almost like your professors. you felt intimidated by him, he was smart and quite rude.

“um well, everything?” your answer sounded more like a question, causing him to raise an eyebrow up at you.

“i’m sorry, i can’t help you with everything,” he spat, turning his shoulders towards you with one elbow on his desk. “give me specifics, like which chapter?”

“every chapter, it just isn’t making sense to me and i-“

a sigh left his lips and his shoulders slumped, you could practically hear the thoughts running through his head. “alright well, i can help you with the first chapter,” he said with a shrug.

you nodded along, reaching into your bag for your notes.

“the first chapter is pretty basic. basic terminology and techniques we use throughout the class, ‘kay?” he began, speaking with his hands as he went. you nodded at him, placing your notebook at the edge of his desk and writing down what he just said.

anything counts, anything you could get would help. you needed to get a good grade in this class, if you had to retake it for the credit it would be a disaster.

“it’s mostly the types of data, the collections of data, the types of sampling — and those are the basics.” his eyes flickered from his computer down towards your hunched figure. you were writing down every single word he spoke. you’d repeat his words to yourself in silent whispers.

then, as you finished writing, you looked up at him and waited for him to continue but he was left speechless. you really were desperate.

“tell me, do you know any of the terminology in chapter 1?” he asked, turning his full figure towards you. doing so, his knees were now touching yours. he didn’t miss the way you scooched back further in your chair to avoid his touch. cute.

“uh,” you hummed to yourself as you flicked through your notes and back to chapter one.

“no, no,” he stopped you, placing his hand over yours and bringing it back down into your lap. “tell me from memory, not from your notes.”

he watched you blink at him as if you were processing his words slowly, “uh yeah, i can do that.” you leaned away from his desk and your notes and faced him, your knees touching his again.

“i know sample versus population,”

“give me an example of both.” he cut you off again, leaning back into his chair and adjusting his hips.

“um, a population will be all the college students of our university but a sample would be just the engineer students,”

“good, at least you know that.”

you gave him a nervous laugh, a little more proud than you should be but his praise made you feel … good.

he continued to make you list what you know, making sure you knew every term by giving him real-life scenarios and every time you got it correct it was like a golden sticker was placed on your forehead. you were beginning to understand and, as ridiculous as it sounds, you were starting to have fun.

relating the different terms to real-life situations made it easy on you, rather than the unrealistic scenarios your professor gave you.

he let out a loud yawn and you caught a whiff of his minty breath, he’d been chewing on mint gum for the past hour now. throwing an old one away and popping in a new stick. you could tell he was getting tired, he was less responsive and blinking slowly.

“i think you should get some rest,” you told him. he looked over at you with a small ‘hm?’ before shaking his head, blonde hair sweeping over the bone of his brow and lips curling down into a frown.

“i’m fine,” he practically shouted out after another yawn, “let’s just finish it, ‘kay?”

“no, Leon, it’s okay we can continue another time.”

he stayed silent, his lips pursed as he looked down at your notes. gradually, his head began to bob up and down into a nod and another yawn left his mouth. this time, he stretched back, letting his sweater glide up slightly to reveal a sharp v-line and brown happy trail.

you quickly looked away and began to pack up your things, shoving your notebook and pencil case into your bag — not even bothering to shut or zip anything up.

“man, look at the time,” he said, lifting up his sleeve to reveal a black watch. “next time be on time, that way we have more time.” he smiled at you as you stood up.

you weren’t sure whether to take that as a friendly reminder or a warning but either way you nodded.

you made your way towards the door, slipping on your shoes and looking back at him to say goodbye. you expected him to still be seated at his desk or even going to lay on his bed. though, to your surprise, he was standing directly behind you.

hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweater.

“jesus!,” you jumped, “sorry, you surprised me.”

“uh, who else do you expect to lock the door behind you?”

you blinked up at him, again caught off guard. he was a little bipolar with his attitude, one minute he’s proud of you for getting something the next he’s making fun of you with his eyes.

“well, goodnight,” you said to him as you stepped out the door, he didn’t say anything else. he kicked the door closed and locked it the moment you stepped out.

you could feel your eye twitch, only if you could march back in there and beat the blue out of his eyes but he was just a tutor. just a few weeks of this and then you’ll never have to speak to him again.

-

“are you serious? we just went over this,”

“i’m sorry i blanked out,”

“no, you didn’t i was watching you giggle on the phone with that little boyfriend of yours,”

“first of all, why are you watching me? and second of all, i wasn’t on the phone with any boyfriend.”

he sighed, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “i wasn’t stalking you, dumbass. your bright ass screen caught my attention and when i looked over voila it’s you.”

he leaned forward, pointing a finger at your face and squinting his eyes behind his glasses, “and who else would have you giggling like that in the middle of a lesson huh?”

to be honest, he didn’t like that you weren’t paying attention, it was more work on him because you always came crying to him about not understanding a topic. he didn’t necessarily hate tutoring you. sure, you guys had some fun times but it was beginning to become a part of his everyday life.

canceling plans on his friends, not going to the gym, and missing out on his personal time. his goal was to teach you and go over a chapter every week, it was working … slowly but surely.

“i saw a funny video, ‘kay?”

“wow, so you’re just sitting in class watching silly videos. no wonder why your brain is rotten.”

“hey, asshole, the professor wasn’t even talking about anything important. it was more about his dumbass grandkids,” you rebutted, grumbling your words toward the end of your sentence.

“if it wasn’t anything important, how come you don’t know what he just fucking talked about?” he said with a scoff.

you groaned and began to pack your things, you probably should’ve done this a long time ago. sure, Leon helps, but he belittles you in every way and it’s beginning to actually hurt. his rude comments and attitude.

he was like a hawk or a vulture, hovering over you every second of the day and then picking at you when you were alone. slowly tearing at your skin and ripping off flesh until he got to bone. he was always watching you.

you couldn’t go on your phone in class to check a text or even walk out early because he will know and will say something about it later. maybe it was time for another tutor.

“whatever, Leon. you’re not helping anymore.” you scoffed his way as you stuffed your computer into your bag.

“that’s where your wrong, your grades have been getting better, haven’t they?”

“what are you? my dad? you’re checking my grades now?”

only if he wasn’t so stupidly handsome, you would probably smack him across the face or maybe choke him out. there was something about Leon that you liked, unfortunately. he was intriguing, he knew so much about you but you didn’t know anything about him.

he wasn’t in the frat, thank god. he was smart and had a large group of friends. you always caught them hanging out in the private study rooms in the library, the ones they always made sure to book. they all would stay there and hang out like obnoxious fools.

it was rare to see Leon smile and laugh, he looked like a completely different person. his eyes gleamed differently and he had a specific glow around him. maybe the reason you saw him so much in public or outside of his dorm was because you looked for him.

you looked for him and that glow.

“i’m not, the professor told me.” he watched as you continued to pack, were you really leaving? was he too harsh? sometimes he was only ‘mean’ to you to elicit a reaction from you. it was cute to watch your jaw drop and your fingers twitch as if you wanted to hit him.

sometimes, you played along, insulting him back. it was amusing to watch your spark glow into a flame. he hated tutoring but he didn’t hate you.

“of course, you practically suck that man's dick during office hours,” you said to yourself but loud enough to let him hear.

“that’s hilarious,” he said, rubbing at his nose bridge where his glasses sat.

“you didn’t deny it.” you huffed turning to leave until you were, very abruptly, yanked back. his hand had wrapped around your wrist, holding you back from leaving.

you turned back to him, his head was tilted to the side and he silently motioned with his eyes towards your seat.

“sit, we’re not done.”

his tone sent chills up your spine but you still refused, only if he didn’t look so damn good.

“yes, we are.”

you yanked your wrist away from him but much to your prevail, that only prompted him to stand up, grab you by your hips, and push your right back down into your seat.

“no. we are not.”

you sat still, bag in your lap, eyes wide and lips shut. did he just…man handle you back into your seat?

he sat back down in his seat after you, rolling his jaw with a sniff. “where were we?”

you remained silent and still, you knew if you got back up to leave he’d only pull you back down into your seat. though, you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. the minute his large hands fell onto your hips there was a burn that ran through you, and it wasn’t rage.

“what is variance?” he asked turning towards you.

“standard deviation squared,” you replied, very straight and mellow-toned.

a smile grew onto his lips, the blues of his eyes gleaming and his pearly white teeth slowly revealing from underneath his pink plump lips. “good, you’re getting the hang of it.”

ever since then, Leon was very comfortable with touching you and kind of controlling you. tugging you by your wrists, guiding you with his hand on the small of your back, touching your legs, or shoving you to get your attention.

you were slowly losing it. you couldn’t even think straight, he was such a distraction. his voice, his hands, his scent, everything. the way he dressed was always so casual but he always looked so good, basic sweats with graphic tees or a sweater.

glasses, hair sometimes a little messy. you noticed when he was very focused his tongue would stick out from the corner of his mouth, it was cute, to say the least. he’d scrunch his nose to keep his glasses up on his eyes, he rolled his ankle instead of bouncing his leg, and when he laughed.

it was boisterous and full of light. you never thought that you could make him laugh, even if he wasn’t laughing with you rather he was laughing at you.

-

“are you serious? it’s like you don’t retain anything at all, how did you even get accepted?”

that one kind of hurt but you were too focused on the brightness in his cheeks and his perfectly straight teeth.

“well the acceptance rate is pretty high so…” you shrugged turning back towards your notebook.

you kept on denying the fact that you very much had a crush. is it wrong to find someone attractive? no, not at all. it’s a regular thing to find people attractive, doesn’t mean you have a crush on them. but this … is different.

a month and a half in you were beginning to realize you very much had a crush on Leon. you were beginning to get used to him and he was getting used to you.

you looked forward to tutor sessions now, practically dropping everything to go and see him. you began putting on extra perfume and wearing your hair down rather than keeping it up.

you kept your attire casual, you didn’t want him to think that you were dolling yourself up for him. so pajama pants or sweats were your usual go-to.

little did you know, Leon noticed everything. he was keen to snuff people out. he could smell you from a mile away, that heavy fragrance of yours was slowly seeping into his clothes and his brain. even after months, everything you touched was beginning to smell like you.

he noticed how your makeup slowly became heavier and your hair was all nicely done for him.

to be frank, he was flattered. he hoped you were getting all dolled up for him and not the guy who constantly blew up your phone. who is he? is he a boyfriend? a relative? a crush? a friend? who is he?

Leon wants to know, who do you see throughout the day? who are your friends? what do you like? do you like him? do you hate him? every time he sees your face he just wants to know, who are you?

Leon sat at his desk, waiting for you. his hands were folded up to his mouth and his leg was bouncing anxiously. you’ve never been late, well except for that first day but other than that you were always on time. always.

the pillow you occasionally sat in your lap during these sessions was now in his lap. it smelt just like you. at first, he wanted to snatch it away from you the moment you put the pillow into your lap, hugging it against you and spreading your germs onto it.

but then, it was nice. it was your signature pillow, you looked for it every time you came over and placed it directly in your lap. now, he finds himself carrying it around or having it next to him while he sleeps. is that weird?

well, it was his pillow in the first place. what’s so wrong about having it in his bed? it’s comforting.

his eyes quickly flicked over when his phone screen lit up, he looked over at it quickly reading the notification. you texted him.

was something wrong? are you sick? do you no longer need tutoring?

he quickly unlocked his phone and read the message, the pillow now bunched up underneath his nose as he slowly inhaled and exhaled your heavy scent.

‘hey, might be running a little late today :/. there’s a lot of traffic.’

traffic? where are you coming from?

‘k.’

he kept his reply short and nonchalant even though his curiosity was close to killing him. he knew the semester was close to ending, meaning he wasn’t going to see you afterward. it’s a big campus, so many buildings and so many students. he rarely sees you.

though, he catches a glimpse of you in the library, walking and talking with your friends. in the lunch hall, always getting the same drink from the vending machines and leaving in a hurry as you typed away at your phone.

you told him you had no boyfriend, but maybe you were lying to him. maybe it’s because he wasn’t a close friend of yours. that’s right, he’s just a tutor — not a friend or a love interest in your eyes.

he sat there longer than he anticipated, he didn’t realize how long he had been sitting until there was a knock on the door. he stood up, tossing the pillow in his lap aside onto his bed and rushing to the door. almost tripping over the clothes and mess that sat on his floor.

shit, he forgot to clean. he kicked the mess aside as he made his way to the door. kicking it under his bed mostly. he almost tripped on one of his shoes, letting out a small cuss before stumbling more towards the door.

the chaos behind the door caused you to furrow your brows.

“Leon? you good?”

“yeah! hold on!” he shouted out. you nodded slowly, itching at your ankle with the tip of your shoe.

Leon looked down at his attire, week-old sweats and a white sweatshirt with oil stains on it.

he turned away from the door quickly and silently ran back into his room, he needed clean clothes and he hadn’t done laundry all week. he didn’t have time, all because he was too busy thinking about you.

he quickly threw his sweatshirt off, taking the glasses off his head in the same swift movement. now he was just a mess, feeling around his bed for his glasses like Velma from Scooby Doo. all while his sweats were halfway on his legs.

“shit, shit,” he muttered to himself and he almost sighed with relief as he finally found his glasses and a clean, well decently clean, sweatshirt.

he rushed over to the door, sweat sticking to his hairline and very much out of breath. when he swung it open he was met by you looking down at your phone, texting someone once again. you looked up at him with a smile.

“what were you doing in there, huh? hiding a girl from me?” you taunted with a smile. he took notice of your outfit once you stuffed your phone away, a small wine-red top paired with some baggy jeans. you had a nice pendant necklace on, hanging right between the swell of your breasts, and cute little bracelets all up your wrists.

your makeup was done nicely, same with your hair. you were very very pretty today. you always were. but who did you look pretty for today?

“don’t be an idiot,” he scoffed, stepping sideways and letting you inside. you chuckled to yourself, finishing up your text to your friend before your phone was miraculously snatched from you.

“no phones tonight.” he snapped at you, taking a sneaky peek at your text convo. it wasn't a guy, it was a friend who was a girl. you two were speaking about a house party and tutoring. he lifted an eyebrow and looked down at you, he was completely ignoring your small grumbles of complaints.

“you were at a house party before this?”

“nosy much!” you snapped as he shut your phone off and stuffed it away into his pocket.

“answer the question,” he sighed like a disappointed parent.

“yes, i was and i ditched it to be here. with you.” you finalized.

he wasn’t gonna lie, the last part of your sentence sends electricity through his veins. you ditched fun to be here. not for tutoring. not for your grade. but to be here with him. he had no words, he was just frozen in place not sure of what to say or do.

“um, no phones today no distractions. midterm is coming up and i don’t want you to fail,” he said, clearing his throat. he shut the door softly and locked it. he turned to face you, taking off your shoes with a pout.

“aw, you care about my score?”

he rolled his eyes, shoving past you with another scoff. “yeah because your score reflects my tutoring.”

"and here i thought you hated tutoring,"

"i do, hurry up and get inside."

you smiled up at him, walking further into his room and instantly looking for your pillow. it wasn’t in its usual spot but you found it on top of his bed. his very tall bed. you jumped up, half of your body on the bed and your legs dangling off the floor.

you outstretched your arm for your his pillow. it was just at your fingertips but still out of reach. why did his bed have to be so big?

Leon watched you struggle for a bit, amused at how hard you were working just for a pillow. he also took this chance to admire how good you looked, almost perfect. bent over the edge of his bed, shirt riding up to reveal more of your back.

he couldn’t help but imagine you in this position but in different circumstances. his hands on your waist, bodies sticky and sweaty, hips rocking against one another.

he was quickly shaken out of his trance when you hit him in the face with the pillow.

“let’s get this over with, my friends are expecting me back in two hours.”

he cleared his throat and nodded with a small, “yeah.” his voice cracking in between.

it was hard to focus, he couldn’t stop looking your way. he couldn’t dismiss the burn that flew through him every time your knees touched his. he couldn’t form a sentence when your eyes would lock with his as you patiently waited for him to teach you something else.

almost like a dog waiting for a fucking treat.

the mascara on your lashes made your lashes pop more, shiny gloss on your lips, and the blush on your cheeks was nice and bright — but not too obnoxious. what was obnoxious though was your top, so dangerously low and that pendant hitting the fat of your breasts with every movement.

you were speaking to him but his eyes were focused on your pendant necklace. you took notice of it, stopping midsentence and looking down towards your necklace that he was so focused on.

“who’s the one distracted now?” you chuckled, taking out the pendant from your shirt and showing it to him.

“where’d you get it from? a boyfriend?” he asked out of nowhere. even his own words caught him off guard. he didn’t mean to ask that last part but it has been on his mind forever.

“Leon, how many times do i have to tell you?” you sighed out, leaning back into your chair and crossing your legs. “i don’t have a boyfriend.”

“then who is currently blowing up your phone?” he asked, motioning down to your phone constantly buzzing in his pocket.

“my friends,” you said with a shrug.

“i don’t believe it.”

“well, you should.”

“what could they possibly want to talk about?”

“you,” you said, looking from your phone lighting up in his pocket then back up at him.

you watched his eyebrow raise in confusion and he tilted his head to the side once again in disbelief. but you nodded slowly leaning towards him.

“they think you’re hot,”

“oh really?”

“yes, really.”

he scooted closer to you, both of his meaty thighs now trapping yours. his pupils dilated as he looked into your own. instantly, your palms began to sweat. you crossed your arms over your chest, subconsciously trying to shoo away the goosebumps rising onto your skin.

“what do you think then?” he asked, his voice low and his eyes flickering down to your lips and staring there.

“of?” you answered with another question.

“you think i’m hot?” he was inching closer closer, surely this was another way to tease and taunt you. even so, your heart was beating out of your chest and you were shrinking away from him.

“mmm not really, you’re kinda ugly.” you lied. that was the biggest lie you’ve ever said out loud. you haven’t even admitted your little crush to your friends. you were denying it to your core but right now with him so close like this, his breath fanning against yours and his hands placed on either side of your chair — you were ready to give up.

“liar.”

“not a li-“

before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours. soft plump and warm. wet from the amount of times he’s licked over them with a hint of mint from his gum. you kissed him back, leaning forward to press your lips against his even more.

your entire body lit up, you could feel your knees grow weak and the butterflies in your stomach felt more like a wildfire. with every smack of your lips, there was another spark and more of that fire spread.

his hands found your waist, tugging you up off your chair and towards him. you accepted his instruction quickly and obediently. he pulled you into his lap, hands moving from your waist and towards your hips.

his thumbs rubbed at your skin, calloused fingertips colliding with your soft skin. hot and gentle. you moaned onto his lips, tilting your head to the side and bringing your hands from his shoulders and towards the nape of his neck.

shivers ran through him at your touch, the cold sweat on your fingertips and your manicured nails scratching at his scalp.

he ran his hot tongue along your bottom lip and you welcomed him. tongues finding each other in a heated and passionate battle. you moaned at the minty taste on his tongue practically melting into him.

his hands found the small of your back, pressing you closer to him until you could practically feel his heart beating against yours.

he reached down into his pocket, bothered by your buzzing phone. he threw it to the side and onto his desk, he couldn't care less where it landed, he was more focused on you. your gloss stuck to his lips, it tasted fruity like cherries and he could taste the smallest twinge of rum on your tongue.

he pulled away, one hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you in your place, “drinking and driving, huh?”

you rolled your eyes, rolling your hips down into his, “it was just one shot.”

you kissed him again, feverishly. you were hungry and desperate, you never wanted someone so bad. even if he made you feel like shit, pretty privilege at its finest. you didn’t care if he tugged and shoved you around like a damn rag doll, it was hot.

you didn’t care if he insulted you, part of you really fucking liked it.

he kept his lips on yours as he let his hand run down underneath the curve of your ass and the other guided your thigh around his waist. he stood up taking you with him, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms wrapped around his neck.

you held him close, both of you kissing at a slow and deep pace. in all truth, you didn’t think Leon was interested in you in the slightest but judging from the way his hands traveled all over your body you were very very wrong.

his hands reached up beneath your top, feeling for your bra clasp but he was surprised to find none. you smirked against his lips.

“no bra, fuck that’s hot.” he sighed against your lips, copying your smirk.

he threw you down against his bed, watching your hair splay out around your head like a halo. your lip gloss was ruined, smeared all over your mouth and your lips were now plump and glossy with his spit.

you looked up at him, the fire behind your eyes and adrenaline running through every vein in your body. you propped yourself up onto your elbows, slowly scooching away from him as he crawled towards you.

his hands on either side of your frame, icy blue eyes staring right into yours. his lips were now swollen and pink, some of your lipgloss smeared all over his mouth.

“where you going?” he taunted, a certain tone in his voice. his hands reached for the hem of his sweatshirt, quickly pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side along with the rest of his clothes. you scanned your eyes up and down his built figure, who knew he was so muscular.

underneath all those sweatshirts and loose tees was a greek god. chiseled muscle and wide shoulders, his arms were thick and looked as if they could kill. no wonder he could throw you around like you weighed nothing. he was built like a fucking tank.

your eyes trailed down to the happy trail, you witnessed now and then. sharp v-line, light brown hair with a single vein running down.

his hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you down the bed until his face hovered over yours. “my eyes are here,” he told you before placing his lips on yours. your hands ran up his arms and up to his shoulders, you sunk your nails into his skin creating little pink crescents.

one of his hands kept him up while the other worked with the button of his jeans. the minute he got the metal button off, he was tugging them down your thighs and you helped by lifting your hips for him.

he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, and then your jaw. his kisses were wet and slow, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties.

“god, you’re beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, kissing your lobe. your body shook with excitement every time he touched you, your body immediately responding to any of his calls. you were under his control and his command.

“i need you,” you whispered to him.

“shh shh, how about this?" he shushed, removing his glasses and then throwing them onto his desk.

he smirked at his own idea, loving the sound of what plan just popped up into his head.

" if you get these answers correct you’ll get what you want, ‘kay?”

you threw your head back against his pillow, whining his name. he swatted your ass as a warning as he traveled down your neck with opened-mouthed kisses, “i’ll stop.”

“no! okay, okay.” you exclaimed. he smiled against your collarbone, sinking his teeth into your skin as his hand traveled up the sheets to play with the hem of your top.

“give me five different ways to collect data,” his hand traveled underneath your shirt, his thumb finding your perky nipple and swiping over the bud slowly. you shivered at his warm touch, your brain melting and your mouth opening into a silent moaning.

“answer me, baby.”

“um surveys, experiments,” you began, trying to focus on his question rather than his touch. he pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as his knee slotted between your legs and pressed against the gusset of your soaked panties.

he applied just the right amount of pressure and friction to your clothed cunt, earning him a small moan.

“an observational study,”

“good good,” he praised, lifting up your top and bunching it above your breasts. he watched them spill out and bounce, “so pretty, baby. give me two more.” he placed a soft kiss over your hard nipple and watched your body squirm for him.

“focus groups and- fuck and sampling,” you whined, arching your back towards him.

he grinned down at you, one hand cupping your left tit while the other stroked your cheek. “good job.”

he placed another hot kiss over your nipple, dragging his teeth ever so slowly over your hot skin.

this was killing him more than it was killing you. but he just loved teasing you, the excitement in your body, the hunger in your eyes, and the desperation in your voice. he loved having control over you.

“what’s the formula for a z-score?”

“Leon!”

he swatted your thigh as a warning, “say it.”

you pursed your lip, watching him place small kisses around your areola, purposefully avoiding your sensitive nipples.

“x minus x bar-“

“do it correctly,”

“sample size minus the mean, divided by the standard deviation!” you whined out.

he rewarded you by taking your nipple into his mouth, harshly sucking and dragging a long whine out of you.

you’ve never been so sensitive before but he was bringing everything out of you. your hips began to grind down against his knee, the smallest amount of pressure against your clit was all you needed. you were aching for him, clenching around absolutely nothing and dripping into the gusset of your panties.

his hand was splayed over your stomach, his thumb playing with the hem of your lace panties. his lips left your nipple with a pop and he looked up at you whilst biting down on his bottom lip.

“if the mean is more than the median,” he began kissing down the valley of your breasts. “how does the graph skew?”

you couldn’t focus, your brain was mush and you were very lightheaded. you couldn’t breathe and you were aching for him worse and worse every coming second. you tried to go over his question but every kiss he placed on your skin was a distraction.

“come on, baby you got it.” he said, now completely in between your legs. his hands were running up and down your thighs, keeping them at either side of his head. he placed a wet kiss on your inner thigh, sucking and then dragging his teeth over the small hickey.

your hips bucked up and your legs began to shake, “Leon, i don’t know.”

“i know you do, baby. come on,” he hummed against the skin of your thigh. the smell of your pussy was making him dizzy, it was right in front of him and god he needed it so bad. he could see how wet you were, just for him.

he wanted to rip these pretty lacy panties right off of you and devour your pussy whole, but he wanted to wait. he wanted to wait until you were at your limit, he wanted to watch your eyes roll back when you finally got what you both wanted.

“um, it skews right!”

he smiled against your inner thigh, placing a kiss on your abdomen and then moving your panties to the side. his cock jumped at the sight of your cunt right in front of his eyes, dripping wet and quivering just for him.

“answer this next question right and i’ll let you cum, ‘kay?” he said placing a kiss over your swollen clit.

“fuck!” you moaned out, hands reaching for his blonde strands.

“what is the empirical rule? and what does every single one of them mean?” he asked, prodding his tongue at your hole. his breath was hot against your clit, your whole body was shaking to the point you couldn’t take it.

“Leon, i-“ you stammered out with a tear running down your temple and into your hair.

“come on, we just went over this yesterday.”

“i can’t,”

he gathered a glob of spit onto his tongue before spatting it against your pussy, watching it drip from the hood of your clit and over your fluttering hole. “yes, you can.” he egged on.

“it’s mmm,” you pursed your lips and squinted your eyes close, you just needed to think and avert your attention away from him. “68% falls um one standard deviation of the mean,” your statement was more like a question.

he confirmed your answer by flattening his tongue over your slit and languidly licking upwards. he moaned at your taste, practically drunk on your pussy already. he shut his lids and let his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“95% is two and 99.7% is three!” your voice raised a few octaves as the languid strokes of his tongue became faster.

he was done testing you, for now. right now, he’s focused on making you cum all over his face. his arms wrapped around each of your thighs, holding you close to his mouth as he got to work. his thumb went to find your clit, rubbing small slow circles around your swollen nub.

“oh god,” you sighed out. his tongue prodded at your dripping cunt, messily lapping up at your juices mixed with his saliva. you arched your back, your fingers digging into his scalp both pushing him away and pulling him closer.

he applied more pressure to your clit, his tongue plunging in and out of your hole shamelessly. wet and sloppy sounds filled the room along with the sound of your messy moans and chants of his name.

“fuck, so good.” he moaned to himself, completely focused on your pleasure even if his hips were grinding into his sheets. he could cum just like this, to the sounds of your moans and the taste of your cunt.

he couldn’t wait to fuck you, to feel the warmth of your walls suck him in, and the sound of your moans directly in his ear. but he needed to be patient, he needed to reward you for doing so good in class.

he picked up his pace, taking turns fucking his tongue into you feverishly and sucking on your clit. your legs shook around him, thighs clamping around him and keeping him locked in place.

“yes, Leon! i’m close,” you moaned out, drool gathering at the corner of your lips and more tears spilling from your eyes. he kept his pace, not moving faster or slower but he just applied the smallest pressure against your clit that sent you over the edge.

you cried out, arching your back and curling his sheets into your fist. with your release, stars danced behind your vision and every muscle in your body contracted and then relaxed. he eased you down from your high, sucking at your clit lightly and drawing circles over the bone of your hip.

he looked up at you, lips swollen and slick with your release. he placed a kiss on your abdomen with a grin plastered across his cheeks.

his blonde hair stuck to his forehead sweaty and hair disheveled all because of you.

“you did so good,”

your whole body was worn out, your eyes shut ready to pass out but he wasn’t done. he tugged your panties down your legs, keeping them scrunched in his fist.

“i’m not done testing you baby,” he said placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Leon, please,”

he ignored your pleading working himself out of his sweats. you caught a peep of a dark grey splotch in his sweats, either from when he had his knee placed against your heat or his dripping tip.

“get this question right and i’ll fuck you, got it?”

you nodded excitedly, biting down on your bottom lip. you watched his cock spring out and god was he pretty. tip swollen and red, veins running up his girth, thick and long. god, of course, he was big.

“words, baby. i need words.”

“yes, yes, okay!” you snapped at him, very obviously sexually frustrated. he didn’t like your tone so he slapped your clit with the tip of his cock, sending a shock wave through you.

“watch your tone, i don’t have to fuck you, i don’t have to give you a second orgasm,” he grabbed your chin harshly and tugged your head up to face him, “understand?”

“yes,” you croaked out.

he placed a kiss on your lips, letting you get a taste of your juices still on his tongue.

he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, his shoulders tensing up and his hand twisting in his own sheets. it was taking everything in him to be patient.

“how do you find the three quartiles?” he asked, pressing his tip against your fluttering cunt. you opened your mouth to answer but nothing came out but a weak moan. he watched you closely, not breaking any eye contact.

his pupils were blown out, only leaving a halo of his blue irises.

“please,” you croaked out.

“come on baby, you got this.”

you gulped down a lump, getting rid of the dryness in your throat. “the first quartile is the 25th percentile,” you answered weakly.

he pressed his tip into your dripping cunt, hissing at how your pussy was practically ready to suck him in. your breath hitched at the stretch and a tear ran down your temple, he kissed it away, leaning his forehead against yours.

“keep going baby, you got this.”

“the second is the- the median. 50th percentile, the third quartile minus the first,” you rambled, looking up into his eyes as he nodded his head.

“good, good,” he moaned out, giving you just a few more inches of his cock.

“the third one is 75th percentile,”

with your final and last answer, he thrust his cock all the way in, until his tip was kissing your cervix. you sucked in a shaky breath, your thighs shaking as you adjusted to his size. he kept his tip pressed against your cervix, stroking your thigh with his large hand.

“s- so big, fuck,” you whined out, walls fluttering around his girth.

“shh shh, take it. take it.” he whispered close to your lips.

“lower fence versus upper fence, quickly.” he was struggling to stay still, he was torturing both you and himself. you choked back a sob. you could feel his cock pulsing inside of you and god you couldn’t even think.

“lo- lower fence is the first quartile, mmm,” you moaned out.

“come on,”

“first quartile minus one point five times the IQR,”

he sighed out against his lips, grinding his hips into yours earning him a whiny moan from your quivering lips. “one more baby,”

“upper fence is, shit, it’s the third quartile plus one point five times the IQR.”

he was done.

he pulled out and then thrusted straight back in, your whole body convulsed. every tense muscle in your body relaxing the moment he thrusted his cock back into you. he cupped your cheek, bringing your lips to his. he kissed you hungrily, invading your mouth with his tongue, moaning at the taste of you.

his hips continued to snap into yours, bullying his cock into you with no remorse. each thrust of his cock stroked at your g-spot and your body would jolt from the force.

“been waiting to do this forever,” he spoke into your mouth. “fuck, you’re so beautiful,”

you moaned out his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. his hands reached back towards your top, tugging it over his head and throwing it off the side.

he was quick to cup your breast, slotting your nipple between your two fingers and then slamming his lips against yours. you scratched down his back helplessly, the fresh polish on your nails chipping and blood seeping through the cuts you were giving him.

you couldn’t focus on anything else but him, not only did you really like him but he was also fucking you so good. his pace was perfect, his touch was intoxicating and his lips were hot.

there was a ring of white forming around the base of his cock, lewd noises spilled from both of your lips as you both found yourselves inching closer and closer to your highs.

your kiss grew sloppy and his pace quickened, “this pussy ’s so good, fuck,” he groaned out, moving the hand from your breast towards your clit.

your whole body shook once his two fingers began to draw figure eights around your clit. the slow pace of his fingers contrasting with the fast pace of his thrusts.

“god, look at you,” he breathed out, “all fucked out on your tutor's cock, huh?”

you couldn’t reply, only croaking out a moan of his name.

“fucking whore, came here for math help now look at you,”

his words only added to the tension in your abdomen, the burn in your stomach getting hotter and hotter.

“i’m gonna cum,”

“go ‘head baby, cum all over my cock,” he said, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips.

you whined out, chasing his lips for another kiss but he denied you with a shake of his head.

“i wanna hear you,”

you looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of yourself in his glossy eyes. mascara smudges, lipgloss gone, hair a mess. all because of him.

“fuck!” you moaned out, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your head back. he was quick to guide your head to face him, he kept his eyes locked on yours watching your pupils dilate as you came undone.

your walls fluttered around his cock, clenching down as your orgasm hit you like a heavy wave. he pulled out quickly, finishing himself off with heavy and breathy moans.

you watched as he came. thick, white ropes of cum decorating your stomach and abdomen. his abs tensed up with each spurt of cum and his hips still bucked up.

he let out a final breath into the crook of your neck. both of your bodies shook against each other, hot, sticky with sweat and cum.

he leaned up out of the crook of your neck looking into your eyes and you watched as they gleamed, such a rare light in his eyes but you were glad you were able to see it.

he pressed his lips to yours, this time it was slow and deep. there wasn’t any hunger or lust, just pure passion.

“i’m sure you won’t fail that test,”

(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest & photo of leon from @/laughingwallaby on twitter)

notes: if you wanna be on my tag list pls message me hehe! or fill out the form below (just to make it easier on me :D)

taglist

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSLEEPING PRANK * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Nick pranks Chris and Y/N while they are sleeping.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Nick walked towards the double bed closest to the hotel room's door, their vlogging camera in his right hand, while his left hand held a bottle of lemonade.

He slowly approached, raising the camera so that the lens caught what was on top of it, or rather, who. Y/N and Chris were still fast asleep, both covered by the fluffy white blanket.

The girl was lying on the left side, that is, closer to Nick. Her head was lying on Chris's right arm, using it as her personal pillow, while the boy's left arm was around her shoulders covered by one of his t-shirts.

The only visible parts of the couple were their heads - which were practically on top of each other - and Chris's bare shoulders and arms that were slightly shivering from the Texas cold. Unfortunately, the room's heater didn't seem to be able to combat the coldness completely.

Nick couldn't see, but he was sure their legs were tangled under the blanket. He joked that when they slept together, they seemed to melt into each other with how close they were.

As the oldest triplet got closer to the bed, the camera was able to capture the small snores that came out of Chris's half-open mouth and the soft sighs that escaped Y/N's nose, both sounding like a lullaby to each other.

Nick pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to contain his laughter as he anticipated the couple's reaction. He loved playing pranks on them both, especially when they were sleeping.

"Chris, do you want a sip? Y/N?" Nick's voice sounded low behind the camera as the lens captured him, raising his left arm, the bottle entering the frame, bringing it closer to the couple's faces.

Chris, being a light sleeper, woke up seconds after. He lifted his head slightly as he tightened his arms around Y/N, pulling her closer - if that was even possible.

That movement woke up Y/N, or almost. The girl opened her eyes slightly, keeping them in a thin line, exhaling through her nose before closing them again, seeming not to register Nick in front of her.

"Hmm?" The questioning sound escaped Chris's throat. He turned his head from side to side slowly, trying to understand what was happening, his messy hair falling into his eyes.

"Do you want a sip? I think Y/N must be thirsty, too." Nick continued, his cheeks turning red from the effort he was doing while trying not to laugh.

"What, Nick?" Chris's voice sounded for the first time, the hoarseness making his words almost intelligible. The sound made Y/N open her eyes again, this time a little wider.

She lifted her hands, which were previously under the blanket, and brought them to Chris' ones in front of her body, intertwining them, shivering at the contact of her hot skin with her boyfriend's cold one. A sound of discomfort left her lips as she finally noticed Nick in front of her, holding what looked like a bottle. She quickly closed her eyes again, feeling too tired for whatever that was that Nick wanted.

"It's lemonade. Do you guys want a sip or not?" Nick prevailed, moving the bottle closer to their faces.

"If you drop that on me... I'll kill you." This time, it was Y/N's voice that sounded, equally hoarse and tired from the previous day's filming with Sam and Colby. She only opened one eye this time, looking at Nick but not really being able to focus on him, her vision blurred by sleep.

"It's lemonade." The standing boy spoke again, letting out a low, almost imperceptible laugh. He knew he would get yelled at when the couple actually woke up.

"Are you fucking stupid?" Chris responded, stretching for a few seconds without letting go of Y/N's hand, pulling her closer against his bare chest and burying his head in the crook of his girl's neck, exhaling the natural scent of her skin.

"Go away, Nick." Y/N spoke again, finally closing her eyes completely with the comfort of her boyfriend's body heat against her own, a happy sigh scaping her mouth.

They both fell asleep again within seconds, as if nothing had happened.

extra - comments:

"the way they sleep so close together, being all cuddly and everything 🥺"

"Chris and Y/N are such couple goals"

"I've never seen a cozier bed in my life 😫"

"dear Santa Claus ✏️📄"

"I want a boyfriend who cuddle me while we sleep like I'm going to run away at any minute 😭"

"Nick is a real pest LMAO"

"Nick holding himself back from laughing behind the camera 😭"

"Chris and Y/N's sleepy voice 😔"

© vanteguccir

[suiana]

realistically speaking i would be part of that 99% that would get obliberated if a wattpad alpha ceo mafia boss kills the world for his darling so imagine yandere! side character who would ALSO burn the whole world for you (but fails).

it's the aftermath of whatever the hell happened half a year ago. you know live on mars because apparently some sicko decided it would be good to burn the world for his lover??? yeah, not fun at all. like you get showing love through grand gestures but that was not it.

thankfully you escaped to mars just in time!

unfortunately you found someone there who was even worse. bonus points if they're not human because what is this alien gonna do???

"zeep zip zip..."

"yeah i like sleeping too."

you don't understand him and you think he doesn't understand you. probably. but whatever, you two are getting along just fine. until one day he starts speaking to you in fluent english and proposes marriage because that's what humans do right?

"salutations my beautiful human, i come bearing a shiny rock that i've scavenged from your home planet because i've heard stories of other humans proposing with it. please accept my marriage proposal."

"wtf"

yeah, not what you were expecting from this gorgeous alien who definitely wasn't on the brink of collapsing onto his knees and just begging you to accept him. definitely not, who do you think he is?

"PLEASEPLEASEPLEASPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE"

"bro ts is so tuff🥀🥀🥀"

he also claims to destroy... mars??? if you don't accept him that is. but you think he's lying, which he is. he wouldn't even hurt a fly, you know it.

"i will DESTROY mars."

"vro stop lying"

"you're right, i apologise my beloved."

so what does he do? he settles for being a desparate little alien who can't help but cling to you every second of the day. you may not have accepted his proposal but in his eyes, you two are already together. he lives in the house right beside you (he built it there) and you two basically act like a couple!

he might not be the main character but he sure is going to make you his. don't underestimate him.

"please... will you marry me?"

"no."

"WHY🥀💔 humans are despicable creatures..."

[flowerandblood]

The Song of Promises [1/3]

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: loss of virginity (both characters), sex content, unprotected sex, oral sex, targcest stuff, smut, angst, abduction, description of eye loss, mourning, child abuse, Aemond being a self-absorbed, vain guy ]

[ description: Aemond's childhood is filled with loneliness and regret until Daemon arrives in the Red Keep with his first-born child, daughter of Rhea Royce. The fact that neither of them has a dragon of their own binds them together with a thread of understanding, and their slowly developing relationship gives birth in the young prince's mind to a plan of which she is a part. Slow burn, childhood companions to lovers, first intimacy, rude, insolent, arrogant Aemond with big ego. ]

This is story that describes the events of what would have happened if Aemond had met Daemon's daughter earlier (i.e. as a child). The characters are exactly the same as in the original The Price of Pride, but still, this is a standalone story that can be read separately: you don't need to know that story to read this one.

I have tried to show how the need for closeness matures in adolescents as they get older until they fully understand what they want and how to achieve it. Decide for yourself what happened between them when and at what age so that you feel comfortable with it (let's agree that the ages from the books and the series do not apply here, because at the end of the chapter we are still before Helaena and Aegon's wedding: everyone is simply older than in the source material, decide for yourself by how many years).

A big inspiration for me to wrtie this story was my relationship with my husband (everything was going very slowly for us and each new base was an achievement and a great event). That said, this story you will read alternately from two perspectives (not the same events tho).

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond

That night he slept exceptionally badly: he wriggled in his bed for a long time, struggling to hold back tears of anger, thinking of what Aegon and his nephews had done to him. His older brother was spiteful by nature, but until now he had believed that they would support each another in the presence of the Strongs.

He was mistaken.

The pig with wings he had been given by them – according to Aegon's assurances, as a consolation prize – was eye-watering proof of the humiliation he had suffered at his hands for years. The way they all laughed out loud while he stood completely petrified with shame and the fact that they considered it amusing made his whole body begin to shake.

He wished the sun would never rise again.

When he woke up the next day, his meal was served as usual: to his delight, his mother, although she did not usually allow it, ordered his favourite sweet cinnamon rolls to be brought to him. While he still felt miserable, eating them made his spirits lighter, as the pleasant thought went through his head that his mother loved him.

During the sparring, Aegon acted as if he had forgotten what he had done to him the day before: he said something to him and laughed, as if he expected him to feel like replying to him after the humiliation he had suffered at his hands.

His silence, unfortunately, was not met with understanding from his brother either.

“Must you always be such a twat?” Aegon asked.

Again he did not answer, pressing his lips into a thin line with rage, and hit one of the targets with all his strength with a wooden sword.

He did not utter words that Aegon or his nephews could use against him.

He thought he would never give them a reason to mock him again.

Silence was safe.

However, he was snapped out of his reverie by the voice of Jace, who had been speaking to Luke during one of their short breaks.

“Mother said they would be arriving today. Daemon and his firstborn daughter. He killed her mother.” His nephew spoke in a whisper, clearly excited, but he stood close enough to understand what he said.

Daemon's firstborn daughter.

It was true that he had heard of her and knew that she existed, however, her person did not particularly concern him: she had no dragon and she was a girl, so she did not threaten him in any way, yet she also had nothing that would make him find the subject of her arrival interesting.

Or at least that's what he tried to tell himself, as he involuntarily strained his hearing, standing with his back to them, pretending to stretch before his next routine, paying no attention to the fact that Criston Cole was shouting something to him and Aegon.

“He killed her mother?” Squealed Luke, and Jace shushed him and tapped him on the head, clearly wanting his little brother to be quiet.

“It's gossip. Mother says we have to be kind to her. She won't have here anyone but us.” Jace explained to him.

Although he kept telling himself that he didn't care about some pathetic little girl without a dragon, the next morning he sat with his face pressed against the window, waiting for them to arrive.

He didn't know what he was actually waiting for: Daemon had always seemed intriguing to him. His uncle was confident and ironic, on top of which there was no one, except perhaps Ser Criston, who could match him in wielding a sword.

Deep down he admired him and the possibility of seeing him again thrilled him.

He twisted in his seat, rising higher on his arms as the gates to the courtyard opened and indeed, he saw his uncle on a white horse and a little girl with long, dark hair sitting before him in the saddle.

He snorted at the thought that, like his nephews, the gods had not bestowed upon her the Targaryen colour that he wore proudly on his head.

However, she was a legitimate child and had certainly inherited the colour of her hair from her mother, so he felt that this was not reason to mock her.

After all, his mother also had dark hair, and he held her in high regard and respect.

Daemon jumped off his mount lightly, then grabbed his daughter under the arms and helped her down, without waiting for the servant to run up to them.

He saw that she had started to look around – he thought that she was certainly enthralled and overwhelmed by the beauty and grandeur of the Red Keep, but when she turned her face towards him he recognised that her facial expression was more one of uncertainty and fear.

She will have no one here but us.

He killed her mother.

For some reason, for a moment, but only a moment, he felt pity for her.

Although she was not a princess or anyone special, news of her arrival and the reason for it had spread through the fortress very quickly; he usually preferred to stay in his chamber or in the library, but on this day he had left his safe places to stroll the corridors and the castle, hoping to see her.

He wanted to judge her carefully in his mind: he had formed an opinion about everyone, and she could not remain an exception.

A sting of disappointment spread across his chest when, to his displeasure, he did not see her until the next day during sparring, in the company of Jace and Luke. They spoke to her, gesturing vividly, apparently showing her everything they could, she, however, simply looked at them with big eyes, terrified, and said nothing, looking where they told her to.

“My Princes. Come over here. Let's begin.” Criston Cole called out towards them, clearly impatient.

He grinned under his breath with satisfaction, feeling a pleasant pride at the thought that Ser Criston preferred them to the Strongs and was clearly showing it.

Jace and Luke stepped closer, and Daemon's daughter approached with them, her eyes wide, her small hands clenched into fists from anxiety.

Looking at her closely, he decided she was not ugly: her face seemed pleasant to him, her eyelashes and eyebrows long and dark, accentuating her skin tone in some interesing way. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, as were her lips: she was a little shorter than Jace, but like them, she was dressed in a training garment.

“Our cousin used to practise archery in Runestone. We thought she could do it here too.” Luke said.

Cole straightened up and sighed, clearly frustrated.

“Consent would have to be given by Prince Daemon himself. I cannot make that decision alone.” He replied matter-of-factly, causing the girl to lower her head, disappointed.

Jace, however, was not giving up.

“Then we'll ask him.” He said with vigour, glancing at his cousin, who shook her head.

“I don't know where he is. I can't find him anywhere.” She muttered.

“Prince Daemon, from the information I have, set off to Essos before dawn. Without his permission, I cannot take responsibility for your safety, my Lady.” Ser Criston explained, already a little softer.

An uncomfortable silence fell around them, one he'd experienced for the first time in his life: it wasn't filled with irritation or rage, but with the fact that it seemed to him that neither of them knew how to act in such a situation.

Usually when Jace or Luke didn't know or couldn't do something, it was a source of pride and mockery for him and Aegon: their nephews reacted similarly to failures on their side.

However, he didn't know what he should feel or think upon hearing that a little girl didn't know that her father was now with his second family.

He looked at her to witness her reaction and felt a strange squeeze in his throat seeing that she obviously did not know about it – her lips were slightly parted in disbelief, her gaze wandering from one person to the next, as if she felt humiliated and abandoned, left alone in a place foreign and frightening to her.

“With your permission, I will return to my chamber.” She mumbled and bowed, only to turn and move towards the cloisters, disappearing into one of the corridors.

“Did you see that? She is crying like a little baby. Would you like to join her, brother? You two fit together.” Said Aegon and patted him on the shoulder, making his cheeks flush scarlet with shame.

“That's enough.” Cole said. “Get back to practising.”

Although he occupied his head with various activities for the rest of the day – mostly reading books on Westeros history – his thoughts kept returning to her face then, when she found out her father was gone.

She wasn't as annoying and provocative as Jace and Luke, of that he was sure – nor had she inherited Daemon's aggressive manner, at least not in the way he'd expected. As much as he wanted to assign her to the Black party, as Daemon had always supported Rhaenyra, he wasn't sure she was even aware of the division between them and that she had to choose.

She was thrown between strange walls and strange people, left alone.

Even for him, it was quite cruel.

But it was not his concern, he consoled himself in spirit, trying to start a chapter concerning Winterfell.

For the first time in a long time, he looked forward to the supper with excitement: he knew that his father-king would surely invite his niece to it and say a few warm words to make her feel at home.

He hoped she would be seated close to them and not next to the Strongs.

She shouldn't spend time with the bastards, but he didn't blame her for doing so – he guessed that she simply didn't know who they really were.

Perhaps I should tell her about it, he told himself in spirit sitting down at the table in his seat, recognising that, in fact, he would be doing her a favour by doing so.

Indeed, there was one more chair placed at the table than usual. His cousin walked into the chamber, accompanied by his mother and sister. Helaena was saying something to her, and Daemon's daughter was smiling, looking down at her feet, apparently trying not to fall over in her long, brown gown.

Once again he felt a sense of pride, for it was his sister and not his nephews who had made their guest feel better.

To his satisfaction, which, however, he did not give expression to, trying to keep a stony face, his cousin took a seat next to his sister, that is, opposite him and Aegon. When she looked in his direction he did not leave her gaze for a moment – however, when she smiled, he turned his face away, feeling embarrassed.

He felt a sense of distinction because she had paid attention to him.

No one ever did that, because he was a second son without a dragon.

But she didn't have a dragon either, he consoled himself in his mind, and for some reason he felt relieved.

They were alike.

As he expected, his father greeted her in the presence of everyone, apparently wanting to give her courage.

“As I'm certain you all know by now, we have a guest. It is my brother's daughter, whom I welcome with great joy and love. From now on, the Red Keep will be her home and I ask you to treat her with kindness and understanding. A strange place, even more so for a little girl, can seem frightening. I trust each of you to care for her as best you can.” He said, then nodded and allowed everyone to begin their meal.

One more interaction occurred between them that evening: when he tried to reach for a pate that was too far away from him, she helped him by handing him a platter. She smiled at him again then, and he reciprocated the gesture awkwardly, feeling that for some reason his palms had started to sweat.

His king had said they should be kind to her, so he simply followed his order as any good son would do, he assured himself in his head.

Then Jace suddenly spoke up.

“My King. Our cousin is an excellent archer and we think she should be able to practice with us in the Red Keep as well. Ser Criston said that without her father's permission this is not possible. Wouldn't the King's order be more significant?” He asked, and all eyes fled towards his father.

“Little girls shouldn't be involved in such things.” Said Queen Alicent, taking a sip of wine, for some reason casting a long look at Rheanyra, sitting across the table.

“Why?” His half-sister asked. “Are all women in this world the same?”

His father decided to put an end to this brief argument by giving his own opinion on the matter.

Viserys decided that she could practise archery during their sparring, if it didn't interfere with their training.

She usually stood on the side and shot her bow at targets standing in a completely different part of the courtyard, so everyone quickly forgot about the dispute and stopped paying attention to her.

Or at least that's what he tried to convince himself.

He often looked at her, because when their gazes met, she usually smiled.

It was a warm smile, devoid of prejudice or malice: he did not usually reciprocate the gesture, fearing that Aegon would see it and find another reason to mock him.

She spoke to Jace and Luke, also occasionally smiling in their presence, but when she did so while looking at him, she looked different.

Perhaps it was just his childhood desire to be special to someone, to be noticed, that made him live in the belief that his cousin wanted to know him better.

He craved it too: confirmation of his suspicions, of the fact that, indeed, he had caught her attention. The reason, after all, could have been any feature of his personality that no one had noticed before: his intelligence, his knowledge, his rhetoric, his calmness and composure, how different he was from his brother and nephews.

His pride, however, prevented him from taking the first step: he knew that if anyone found out he was seeking her company, his brother would again call him a twat and say that he liked to play with girls because he was one himself.

That left him internally torn.

The opportunity fell upon him like a thunderbolt from a clear sky when one afternoon, as always eager to search the library for more reading for the dull, monotonous evenings, he saw Daemon and his daughter sitting at the table, bent over a thick, old volume that he knew intimately.

High Valyrian.

His cousin lifted her head upon hearing someone enter the room and bestowed upon him a broad, soft smile – Daemon's expression was not as friendly and expressed boredom.

To his relief, she spoke up first.

“My father is teaching me the language of our ancestors. Would you like to join us?” She asked, surprising both him and her father.

Daemon sighed, but did not protest, spreading out comfortably in his chair, giving him a look as if challenging him.

On the one hand, he was terrified and just wanted to run away, but on the other, this was his chance to get closer to both of them.

He nodded, embarrassed, feeling his hands involuntarily clench into fists.

The fear of humiliation was greater than the excitement.

“Sit down.” Daemon commanded.

No one had ever spoken to him this way, not even his own father; for some reason, however, it did not frustrate him, but made him feel even more respect for his uncle.

I want to be like you, he thought in the back of his mind.

Confident and fearless.

So he sat down on the other side, in the empty chair next to Daemon, and moved closer to the table – he was ashamed that his legs still didn't reach the ground, but he hoped it wasn't apparent yet.

Just a few more years and he would become a man.

He felt much more confident when he saw that they had just reworked a chapter he had already read before.

“Perzys zaldrīzī ossēnagon daor.” Said Daemon, glancing at his daughter expectantly, apparently wanting her to translate the sentence.

“Fire cannot…” She started, but fell silent, clearly not knowing what one of the words meant.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon.” He spoke up, proud to show his uncle how broad his knowledge was.

“Good.” Daemon said.

He swallowed quietly, glancing at his cousin: her downward gaze and her hunched figure told him that she was sad that he hadn't even given her time to think.

He decided that perhaps he shouldn't come out in front all the time, lest he come across as vain.

“Zaldrīzo ānogar.” Said her father – he stirred in his chair, excited, knowing exactly what it means and that it is a fairly simple, even obvious phrase.

Daemon did it so she could respond too.

“The dragon…” She muttered, incorrectly constructing the sentence syntax.

When she looked at him, his lips uttered quickly the soundless ‘blood of the dragon’. She drew in a loud breath, an expression of relief flashed across her face.

“N-no. Blood. Blood of the dragon.” She quickly changed the order of the words, and Daemon nodded, moving on.

He didn't know why he had helped her then, but he liked the way she looked at him from then on.

With curiosity and gratitude.

In secret from his mother, grandfather and brother, he would sneak off to the library to learn with his uncle and his daughter about what he had been studying with the Maester earlier. He didn't admit that he had a kind of advantage over her, but he would sometimes pretend that he didn't know something in order to give her the opportunity to prove herself to her father.

Daemon seemed to him the embodiment of everything he himself wanted to be. Unlike his father, who did not find the strength or time to teach him about the history of their lineage, his uncle shared it extensively with him and his daughter, seeming indifferent and matter-of-fact at the same time.

Daemon was a demanding teacher, but this made him turn on his natural desire to compete: his cousin, however, did not have as much knowledge as he did because she could not have it, so he did not treat her in the same way as Jace and Luke.

They did not speak with each other outside the library; sometimes she smiled at him, but he only reciprocated this expression when the others could not see it – the corner of his mouth then lifted slightly upwards in an attempt to present some pathetic caricature of cordiality.

He wanted to be liked and admired, but didn't know how to achieve it.

One day, to his surprise, his cousin visited him in his chamber when the sun had long since set – he was already lying in his bed while reading a book.

He didn't like anyone invading his private space, but he couldn't say that the sight of her made him uncomfortable either.

He remained silent, deciding to listen to what she had come to him with.

“Tomorrow I am leaving to Essos. My father wants me to meet my sisters and stepmother.” She muttered, lowering her gaze as she spoke the last sentence.

She didn't want to see her replacement.

He grunted quietly, fiddling with the page of the book he held in his hands, feeling some kind of regret and disappointment.

“I see.” He replied, not knowing what more he could add.

She, however, was still standing in the same place, as if expecting to hear something more from him.

“I want to thank you for... for helping me then. Before lessons with my father, I repeat everything he taught me, but when I sit next to him, I suddenly forget the words. My head is empty.” She choked out finally, making him involuntarily look at her, surprised.

He felt a pleasant wave of pride and self-satisfaction ripple deep into his chest.

He lifted his chin higher, wanting to look more mature and dignified.

“You're welcome.” He hummed, hoping to hear even more praise from her lips.

“Sleep well, cousin.” She said and turned away, leaving him once again with a cold feeling of disappointment.

He realised that he hadn't asked her when they were coming back.

As she and his uncle disappeared, he felt with redoubled intensity how invisible he was to the inhabitants of the Red Keep: or at least that was how he perceived it. Even if he had wanted to, he no longer had anyone to show his intellect and knowledge to, no smile waiting for him when he sat down to supper in the company of his loud nephews and his half-sister, whom he deeply despised.

He was the embodiment of all his father's dreams, he was the reason he opened the womb of his first wife while she was still alive: he was the son he was always waiting for.

But his father could hardly eat on his own, let alone pay attention to him or the other children Queen Alicent had given him.

“Pass me the porridge platter, sweet Aemma.” He said to her once, pointing his blue finger at the dish he was thinking of, causing everyone around him to freeze.

He felt some kind of constriction in his throat when he saw his mother swallow this humiliation with difficulty, reaching for the platter and handing it to her lord-husband without a word.

He lowered his gaze to his plate, trying not to think about it, realising that he would like to see her comforting smile again.

He was beginning to grow impatient.

It had, after all, been several weeks.

As always when something was bothering him, he went to the only person he truly trusted.

“When will uncle Daemon return?” He asked, feigning indifference, fiddling with one of the flacons of expensive oils that had belonged to his mother.

Alicent looked at him, sighing quietly, clearly tired and embittered, probably by what his father had done.

He didn't know how he was supposed to help her, so he remained silent.

“The longer he's gone, the better.” She replied, surprising him.

“Why?” He asked, and she sighed again.

“He's a dangerous, unpredictable man. I pity his daughter. He drags her around all the continents like an object.” She said with a kind of impatience that made him unsure if she really meant what she said.

Adult people often spoke in riddles, which frustrated him constantly.

He preferred it when someone was direct.

The conversation with his mother brought him neither answers nor relief; the only person who showed interest in him was far away, and he was once again learning High Valyrian alone.

That night he prayed to the gods to help him tame a dragon and for his cousin to return quickly to King's Landing, so that she would continue to be kind to him.

The gods listened to his requests, or at least some part of them.

After a few days, Daemon, his daughter from his first marriage, Baela, Rhaena and his wife, lady Laena, reached the Red Keep.

He came to see them because he hoped to see her.

Indeed, when he stepped into the chamber, where his mother, Rhaenyra and Helaena were also present, he spotted her at once, standing behind her father's back. She was looking at Daemon, as if hoping that he would turn his attention to her, but he did not – his uncle was looking at his brother, who was holding Baela hand in his.

His only child who had a dragon.

Although no word was spoken, he understood what had happened.

She had only regained her father for a moment and lost him again.

A pleasant shiver ran through him as she looked around the room, but her gaze stopped on him when she noticed him: he offered her a sad smile of comfort, and she reciprocated the gesture.

Although everyone at supper that evening was loud and chatty, she sat quietly, staring at her plate, immersed in her thoughts. He could see that she had not eaten much; her lips were tightly clenched, her gaze fled again and again to the silhouette of her father, who was talking aloud about the magnificent mansion they lived in Essos and their desire to stay there.

He felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach at the thought.

“Do you like insects?” He suddenly heard his sister's voice leaning over their cousin.

Her question seemed absurd and out of any context, but Daemon's daughter was clearly trying to focus and answer the question.

“I like butterflies. And bumblebees.” She said after some thought.

Helaena twisted in her seat, delighted, and invited her to come to her chamber later that evening so that she could see through her large collection of dried moths.

He sighed, trying to hide the unpleasant sting of jealousy that an object that raised his self-esteem had just been stolen from him.

He wanted her back for himself, so that she would say nice things to him.

He wanted her to admire him.

He wanted her to love him and cry for him with longing when they were separated.

He would never reciprocate this, of course, because these were tender, feminine concerns, but it would certainly satisfy his vanity.

He noticed, watching them from the sidelines, that a strong, cordial bond developed between her and his sister after that day: otherwise it would surely have caused his irritation, but at some point he began to see it as an opportunity.

The more she became attached to them and to the Red Keep, the more she would desire to stay with them.

To his surprise, Helaena too had begun to care that her new companion remained in King's Landing; she shrewdly tried to address the issue as they set off together to the Great Sept with their mother.

“I have no trusted lady of the court, Mother. I don't like the fact that they put things in different places than I want. They disturb my order and speak too loudly. She is kind. She always asks my opinion first before she touches me or my things. We embroider together and watch insects. I would like her to stay with me.”

Though his mother easily denied him and Aegon, to her only daughter she could not.

To his satisfaction, she turned to her lord-husband, and he convinced his younger brother that his daughter needed stability and a girl her own age as a companion.

Though reluctantly, Daemon agreed.

He couldn't say that everything had gone according to his plan: now his cousin was his sister's lady-in-waiting, spending a lot of time with her. This meant that she couldn't give him as much attention as he would have liked.

However, one day everything changed.

“Helaena said the Maester is teaching you High Valyrian. I was wondering if you could teach me too, as my father is not here anymore.” She mumbled, clearly fearing that her offer would not be attractive for him.

He sighed, pretending that her words made no impression on him.

“What can you give me in return?” He asked defiantly, though he knew he would have agreed even if she had not been able to give him anything.

“...and what would you like?” She answered question for question, staring up at him with her big eyes, playing with her fingers in a nervous reflex.

“You will obey all my orders without complaining.” He replied at last, feeling that satisfaction, not blood, was now flowing through his veins.

His cousin furrowed her brow at his words, clearly worried and concerned.

“What if you make me do something bad? Or something that will bring me disgrace?” She mumbled.

“I won't make you do such a thing. I am a man of honour.” He said proudly.

He blinked, shocked to see that she nodded at his words.

That's it?

“When can we begin?” She asked, and he pressed his lips together, struggling not to smile.

“Come to my chamber tonight. I'll draw you a map so you can get to it through a side entrance. And don't you dare tell anyone about this, or I will kill you with my own hands.”

She was clearly unaffected by his threat, because she smiled broadly, her face beaming with joy.

Indeed, his quarters could be accessed not only through a door, but also from the side of his bed: there was a small tower with stairs leading up to one of the rarely used corridors of the Red Keep.

He was worried, waiting for her, sitting over a mountain of books, whether the journey through the dark alleys of the fortress would prove too difficult for her: for some reason he was relieved when he heard quiet footsteps in the distance, and then saw her in the passage, looking up at him with big eyes.

She smiled broadly at the sight of him, apparently happy that she had managed to find the right way and not get lost; he grunted as she sat down beside him, pulling off the thin grey cloak thrown over her shoulders.

“Where did you and your father finish?” He asked, forcing himself to be indifferent – he swallowed hard, noticing with horror as he reached for one of the volumes that his hand was trembling with excitement.

He had never yet invited anyone to his chamber, much less without the knowledge of his mother and father.

It was their secret.

“On chapter twelve.” She said lightly, moving her chair closer to him so she could better see what they were about to discuss.

He felt relieved at the thought that he and Maester were already on chapter forty.

“Very well.” He hummed, pleased that he would be able to show off his knowledge and proficiency in this area.

His cousin, when her father wasn't around, proved to be a focused and curious student. She would ask him lots of questions and go back to things he had mentioned earlier, giving him proof that she was really listening to him.

He liked the role of teacher very much: he felt that it added to his esteem, while reassuring him that his time spent over the old tomes, contrary to what Aegon had said, was not time wasted.

He didn't know who he was really doing it for: whether for himself or for her. Certainly, in his own mind, he was convincing himself that the fact that he had agreed to teach her in Daemon's absence was an act of his favour, something for which she should be eternally grateful.

In fact, she was grateful to him.

He found it harder and harder to pretend he didn't see her during sparring or supper; some part of him, to his dismay, had come to the conclusion that he was enjoying her presence.

She cared for his older sister and was her faithful companion, but she also found time for him and his perpetually praise-hungry ego.

He was embarrassed by the way she smiled at him when their glances met in the courtyard or at the table: he had the impression that her eyes shone with joy for some reason, the expression on her face gentle and warm.

Kind.

He chastised himself for these thoughts and the strange yet pleasant feeling that filled his chest every time he lowered his head, stopping the corners of his mouth from rising with difficulty.

Then it was revealed that lady Laena was expecting another child, and something in her suddenly faded.

She felt less and less visible in the eyes of her father, who was far away, on another continent, while she was here, all by herself.

Looking at her and his own mother, Queen Alicent, sitting near her, he compared the shades of their hair, their eyes, the shape of their noses, hands and faces.

After thinking about it for a while, he decided that differences between them were not that great, and that if he had forgotten that she was the daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce, his cousin could be the daughter of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower.

His sister.

In truth, he was only a month older than her, but that did not change the fact that this would make him her older brother: this, in turn, would mean that since it was Helaena's destiny to marry Aegon, it would be his younger sister's destiny to marry him.

He lowered his gaze at this thought, feeling a burning red blush of embarrassment spread across his pale cheeks at the thought.

His heart thumped harder in his chest when he realised that nothing in that thought had rejected him.

But what if she didn't want it?

If she felt disgusted at the very thought of marrying him?

Rejection was something he couldn't afford.

It was safer to remain silent.

He felt his own blood under his tongue when his teeth involuntarily bit his lower lip at the word that her father wanted to take her to Essos.

“You have been away from home for too long. You should spend more time with your sisters.” He heard Daemon's voice outside her chamber door a few hours after her father had arrived in King's Landing.

Eavesdropping was not in good taste, but for some reason he couldn't help himself.

“What should I say to Helaena? I don't want to leave her.” Mumbled his daughter, clearly trying to come up with something quickly that would allow her to stay in the Red Keep.

“That you will now spend time with your true family.”

Your true family.

He didn't know why, but his jaw clenched in rage when he heard those words, a sharp pain piercing his heart, which beat harder in his chest.

And then Daemon took her away.

The first months without her presence had been the hardest for him, as he'd forgotten she was gone: he'd flipped through the books, wanting to prepare for their lessons, reminding himself angrily after a while that they weren't going to happen after all. Her chair had disappeared from the supper table, and her silhouette was not standing in the courtyard, aiming at a target with a bow.

It was as if she had never been there.

And then word reached King's Landing that lady Laena had died in childbirth.

It was a time of sadness in the Red Keep: previously Rhaenyra had mourned the death of her lover and father of her bastards, Harwin Strong; now, however, someone who was related to them all by blood, a close part of their family, had died.

He was ashamed that during the journey they had taken the whole family on to attend lady Laena's funeral, he had struggled to hold back a smile, feeling excited at the thought that the largest dragon in the world had just been left without a rider.

Although he tried to fool himself, he was enjoying not only the opportunity to claim a dragon, but also to see someone else.

The sea journey he had been forced to make, unlike his siblings, had dragged on mercilessly. When they finally reached the shore, he vomited: however, he quickly pulled himself together, recognising that neither she nor his nephews could see him in such a state.

His family were welcomed into the fortress with honours; he felt his heart pounding hard as he looked around the courtyard, hoping to see her. As he raised his head, he drew in a deep breath, catching sight of her silhouette in one of the open windows.

When their gazes met, she smiled.

Despite the fact that he should be concentrating on grieving, all he did during the funeral was listen for any sounds of the dragon that might be coming from afar and glanced at her, shocked that she seemed slightly taller to him – he also had the impression that her figure had become more girlish, whatever that meant.

When she caught him staring at her, he lifted his head up, embarrassed, pretending to look at the sky.

During the feast, which took place in one of the courtyards situated high above the sea, all he could think about was how to get her to speak to him. He did not want to be the one vying for her attention, running after a woman: this was foolish and, most importantly, unworthy of a man.

A man was supposed to be strong and proud, cold if necessary, but never weak.

Nevertheless, he longed to spend time with her, though she did not know it: she watched from the sidelines her half-sisters, embraced tightly by their grandparents, drenched in tears. Daemon and Rheanyra had disappeared somewhere, and she was left alone, not knowing what to do with herself.

After a while, their gazes met again – this time, though with difficulty, he did not look away. They continued like this for a while, until she made a slight movement with her head, as if pointing to the stone steps that led behind the wall, and then walked down them.

She wanted him to follow her.

He swallowed hard and glanced at his bored brother, who held a refilled wine cup in his hand.

“I'm going to take a walk. I have no desire to stay with these people.” He said to him dispassionately.

Aegon shrugged his shoulders.

“Do what you want.” His brother replied, looking intensely at one of the servants in the distance.

He sighed silently and moved ahead, feeling his heart in his throat.

What if someone sees them?

Was this a good idea?

Maybe he should turn back?

Hundreds of thoughts beat against each other in his head, but his legs led him to the stone stairs anyway, and then down to where no one could see them.

His cousin stood by the wall, looking beyond it to the sea; her long hair was partly tied back with a blue ribbon, the rest of it was blown by the wind. When she heard his footsteps, she looked up at him and smiled in a way he knew very well.

She was glad to see him.

“I'm glad to see you, cousin.” She said softly when he stopped in front of her, as if she was reading his mind.

He nodded, embarrassed, feeling for some reason that despite the cool sea breeze around them, he was hot.

“My condolences.” He muttered, reminding himself that his mother had ordered him to say it to everyone he met.

His cousin lowered her gaze and nodded, accepting his words.

“Thank you.”

They both fell silent, looking out at the sea, simply standing side by side. He was afraid that he should say something and was thinking hard about what neutral topic he could raise, when he suddenly heard her voice beside him.

“She was a good woman. She never tried to replace my mother, but she did everything she could to make me feel that she cared about me. I regret that I never thanked her for it.” She muttered, her voice breaking more and more with each sentence.

He looked at her uncertainly out of the corner of his eye, fearing that she would cry.

He wasn't good at consoling, so he remained silent.

“But I couldn't love her. Nor my sisters. I couldn't form a bond with them. My stepmother died, and I don't feel anything.” She said in a breaking voice, tear after tear ran down her cheeks red from the cold.

“If you don't feel anything, why are you crying?” He asked, looking ahead, straight at the setting sun hiding behind the horizon of the sea.

“Because I'm ashamed.” She confessed, making him feel a squeeze in his chest for some reason.

“You don't have to. She was not your mother, and they are not your sisters. You don't owe them anything.” He replied matter-of-factly, feeling that this was exactly what he believed.

Contrary to what Daemon had told her, they were not her true family.

They only pretended to be one.

“Who then is my family, if not my own father, his wife and daughters?” She mumbled with difficulty, as if his words frightened her even more.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, wondering if he should say it.

“Unlike my nephews, you are a true blood of the dragon. You can decide for yourself who you will love and who you will despise.” He replied with emphasis on the last words, involuntarily glancing in her direction.

She looked at him in disbelief, her dark eyes larger than ever, as if what he was saying shocked her.

“We don't control who we love.” She said, looking him straight in the face.

“We don't control. We choose.” He finally stated and drew in the air loudly, folding his hands behind his back. “You also have to choose. If you wish, I will take you with me back to where you belong. To King's Landing.”

Her lower lip twiched at his words, as if he had stabbed a dagger straight into her heart.

“I don't believe you.”

He wanted to answer her, but he flinched when he realised that he had heard the screech of a dragon in the distance – he raised his head and followed with his eyes the small, dark silhouette flying between the clouds.

Then he made his decision.

“I will take you to the Red Keep on the back of my dragon.”

She did not understand what he meant, however, he preferred not to initiate her into his plan: she had promised to obey him, so when he commanded her to go to sleep and worry about nothing, she did so reluctantly.

He, on the other hand, set out under cover of darkness to meet his destiny.

The trip through hills full of sand and stones was difficult and exhausting, but what he saw was sufficient compensation for his efforts. Vhagar was frighteningly beautiful: she was big, magnificent, and she evidently saw in him what none but his mother and cousin could, for although she opened her maw to burn him, when he spoke to her in High Valyrian, she hesitated.

Climbing onto her back, his palms were sweaty from nerves and terror, his body trembling as he tried with great effort to reach her saddle. When he finally succeeded and lifted into the skies with her, he realised that the gods had given him a sign, revealing to him his fate.

He had made Vhagar his dragon, and in the future he would make his cousin his wife.

In that moment, as he screamed with happiness, flying between the clouds, it made perfect sense to him. He didn't see this idea as something to do with physicality, but rather the conviction that since they both held affection and respect for each other, someday they would surely be able to beget offspring together, to create a lineage they would both be proud of.

In that one moment, he felt like he was holding his destiny in his hands, only for the gods to flip a coin again.

As soon as he landed back on the ground his nephews were already waiting for him and gave him another gift, this time one he was never to forget.

If he had to explain to someone what the pain of his eye being pulled out of his eye socket was, he wouldn't be able to describe it: it seemed to him that not only he was screaming, but his whole body as well, that his fingernails would pierce the frame of the bed he was lying on, that he was about to die and would never wake up.

He feared death.

“Mother, don't let me die.” He mumbled out, choking on his tears, his hands clenched into fists on the sheets.

His mother squeezed his arm harder, giving him courage.

“You will not die, my brave son. One day we will have our vengeance.”

Though Luke had taken his honour and his face, he had gained something more: a dragon.

A dragon that no one could challenge.

He knew that what happened after he returned from Vhagar's liege had nothing to do with Daemon's daughter: he had ordered her to stay in her chamber until he came for her, and so she did.

When he walked into her quarters, she rose from her seat, her face flooded with tears.

Daemon had already told her what had happened.

“I –” She began, but he would not let her finish.

“Fly with me or stay. I won't give you a second chance to choose.” He said coldly.

He was a man of honour and he kept his word.

He was sure she would refuse.

He was sure she was a coward.

But she nodded her head.

Neither of them knew how furious Daemon had been when he and his daughter had taken to the skies without his knowledge: when, in his eyes, he had abducted her as it was in the tradition of Old Valyria for centuries, to one day make her his wife.

Lady Royce

Her father punished her escape with his silence: the very thing he knew would hurt her most. He didn't answer her letters or explanations, and for months, then years, he didn't visit the Red Keep even at the invitation of his brother-king.

She knew that he considered what she had done a betrayal, and she suffered greatly because of it.

Nevertheless, she could not lie to herself and pretend that returning to King's Landing did not bring her relief. Between her half-sisters, she felt invisible, her father's person crushed her, and now she was free again.

At least in theory.

Queen Alicent was enraged when she saw her in the company of her son as soon as they returned to the Red Keep: she considered it their act of disobedience and a reason for Daemon to take revenge on her and her children. Her husband, however, was not so harsh about their misdeeds.

“They are just children, my love. My niece can stay here as long as she wishes. My brother and his daughters are in mourning. Let her not surround herself with sorrow and death.”

Although, in fact, King Viserys was partly right, her father was not really focused on mourning, but on marrying another woman as soon as possible.

Rhaenyra.

Only then did she feel as if someone had drawn a clear red line between one part of her family and another: the one that supported Queen Alicent and the one that supported Princess Rheanyra.

She herself wasn't sure she supported anyone: all she cared about was keeping Helaena safe. She was unable to bond with Baela and Rhaena, but she treated the king's daughter like her true sister.

She was calm, quiet and kind, full of warmth that gave her a sense of safety.

“I'm worried about Aemond.” She said one day, bent over her beautiful embroidery depicting a spider. “I feel that he is retreating more and more into the darkness of his mind.”

She lowered her gaze at her words, understanding perfectly what she meant: she answered nothing, however, as her cousin forbade her to speak of anything they discussed or did behind the closed door of his chamber.

He had kissed her for the first time when they were thirteen; he was respectful and gentle when his hands cupped her soft, pink cheeks during one of their lessons in his quarters, his caress slow and warm.

He was clearly nervous and excited, his breath heavy as their skin pressed together in a wet, sticky act she had only heard about from girls older than her.

She was convinced that this gesture was not a proof of his affection for her, but jealousy that Aegon had more experience with women than he did.

Nevertheless, since then, there had been a change in him that she had not expected: he had apparently regarded that incident as a turning point of some sort.

He began to speak not of his lineage but of their lineage, not of his heritage but of their heritage.

“From now on, I will be to you like an older brother,” he communicated to her proudly, looking down at her, having long been much taller than her, “I will protect you and surround you with the care a man should bestow on a woman.”

She accepted his words with joyful disbelief, feeling her heart flutter like a bird in her chest.

On more than one occasion, she had witnessed Aegon encouraging him to join him in a brothel – according to his older brother, only intercourse with the body of a mature, experienced woman could make him a real man.

It seemed to her that her cousin was inwardly torn listening to these words – some part of him clearly wanted to prove to Aegon that he could be as good a lover as he was, but on the other hand he dismissed him, saying that he was interested in the arts of war and sword, not old courtesans.

Occasionally he would glance at her out of the corner of his eye, as if the fact that she was listening to this exchange of words made him uncomfortable; then, for a moment, the thought would cross her mind that perhaps she was the reason he was refusing him.

She realised then that there was some kind of plan in his head, a vision of which she was also a part.

She craved it and was terrified of it at the same time.

She was not a mature woman, let alone an experienced one.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw with sadness that, compared to the other ladies of the court, she still looked like a child; the delicate outline of her breasts under her gown could not compare with the full, plump shapes of the other women's chests, as much as with their wide hips and coquettish smiles.

She didn't know what to do to make the change inside her happen faster, until one day she found out that transforming into a woman wasn't as pleasant and beautiful as it might seem.

“You are bleeding, my love,” Queen Alicent told her, trying to reassure her after she woke up, all sticky from the blood leaking from between her thighs, “your flower has blossomed. It means you are fertile and can become a mother. It's natural, although unpleasant.”

“When will it end?” She muttered, twisting in her seat, already dressed in clean smallclothes, filled inside with materials that were apparently meant to stop the bleeding.

“In a few days. But it will happen again in a month. It will continue to happen for years, as long as you and your future husband do not conceive a child.” The queen explained to her.

“For years?” She squirmed, feeling that something in that thought had broken her.

She did not know why she had cried that day, lying in her bed. She resented her father that neither he nor his second wife had warned her what the woman's fate was.

She did not know that she would feel painful spasms in her lower abdomen, she did not know that the warm, disgusting liquid would flow out of her again and again, making her uncomfortable.

She felt that there was no glory in it, no reason to be proud – on the contrary, for some reason she felt an overwhelming, deep shame.

She shuddered and covered herself more tightly with a fur when she heard the door to her chamber open – her cousin stepped inside without a word, striding towards her with his hands folded behind his back.

It was the first time he had come to her, rather than she to him.

“My congratulations.” He said, stopping beside her bed, looking at her with some kind of curiosity and satisfaction.

“I don't follow.” She mumbled, surprised by his choice of words.

“Fertility is a reason for every woman to be proud.” He stated, cocking his head to the side.

She lowered her gaze, realising that he knew what was happening to her.

“I didn't know it would be so painful.” She finally confessed, wondering if he would scold her for self-pity.

He, however, was silent for a long moment before speaking again.

“That's because you're not carrying a child inside you. When you become my wife, I will see to it that you no longer suffer.” He replied at last, struggling to remain calm – she had known him long enough, however, to know that he feared her reaction.

She looked at him with big eyes, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

What?

“What do you mean?” She muttered without thinking, even though she understood perfectly well what he was implying.

She just couldn't believe he'd said it out loud.

She saw that he swallowed hard, struggling to keep a stony face.

“Do you wish to marry someone else?” He asked, a hint of frustration in his voice that sent a cold shiver down her spine.

She shook her head quickly, horrified at his suggestion and the direction their conversation was going.

“N-no.” She mumbled.

“Good.” He said and turned away without another word, leaving her alone with his suggestion of what he truly desired.

Despite his words, he didn't try to kiss her for a second time; apparently his pride wouldn't allow him to ask again for something that, in his mind, was no more than a naïve female fantasy.

That he was incapable of expressing and showing his feelings openly, she had known for a long time; anything that might make him be seen as weak or naive was an unnecessary risk for him.

His older brother watched him closely, mocking and commenting aloud on any behaviour he found amusing and worthy of his attention.

To her cousin, the thought that he was constantly being watched, and thus could not afford to make a mistake, was completely petrifying.

This was the reason he avoided using words; it frightened him how many undertones and misunderstandings they involved, how easily he could destroy his reputation in the eyes of others with one ill-considered sentence.

She was then left with no choice but to use her intuition, carefully observing his subtlest gestures and glances to understand what he was trying to convey to her wordlessly. It was a difficult process, because he too often did not know what his needs really were and what they stemmed from.

“I don't want to strain you. We can discuss this chapter another time.” She said uncertainly, seeing that ever since she had crossed the threshold of his chamber his figure had tensed and his face expressed cold displeasure.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye in a way from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

“If you want to leave, then do so.” He replied, making her blink in astonishment.

“I just want you to rest properly.” She muttered, playing with her fingers in a nervous gesture.

She felt around him like she was with her father, never knowing what would satisfy him.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked at last, forcing the words out with some strange difficulty, as if this thought had been weighing on his heart for a long time.

She swallowed hard, completely surprised by his question.

“No. I just… I just find it hard to comprehend what could possibly please you.” She choked out with difficulty, feeling ashamed at hearing how pathetic that sounded.

She thought he would laugh mockingly at her words, but his face was completely grave.

“Your kiss will please me.” He said with some kind of regret, as if he was suffering from having to ask her for it.

It hit her that he simply wanted reciprocation when, at the same time, she was afraid that if she offered it herself, he would consider it undignified behaviour on her part.

She sighed, trying to calm herself down and moved closer to him – she saw that he drew in air loudly through his nose, as if he was trying to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen.

He shuddered as she took his face in her hands, exactly as he did then – her thumbs stroked his cheeks and he closed his eyelid for a moment, as if he felt relieved. She took advantage of the fact that he wasn't looking and leaned in, letting their lips join in a moist, soft kiss – he surprised her when he parted his mouth and gently deepened the caress, making his warm breath fill her throat.

She closed her eyes, for some reason not wanting to pull away from him – she let his fingers run through her long, loose hair, let his hands roam tentatively over the back of her head and neck, while their lips brushed and teased each other with the quiet, sticky clicks of their saliva.

Eventually they ran out of breath, so they broke the kiss, however, their foreheads remained pressed together.

“Leave, if you want to.” He whispered, clearly indicating that he had no intention of taking advantage of her in any way.

“I don't want to leave,” she mumbled, embarrassed by her own words, “I want to fall asleep by your side.”

“My mother would kill me.” He mumbled out, as if he was fighting the strenuous urge to succumb to her.

“Then I will leave. I don't want to be the reason for you two to disagree.” She said, stroking his cheek with her palm, trying to comfort him.

“No,” he breathed out, his fingers digging harder into the fabric of her robe at her back, “stay.”

So she stayed.

There was something naïve about the way they lay far apart on his bed, the way his hand grasped hers and squeezed it, as if he wanted to find out if it was really happening.

“Don't tell anyone.” He asked, a sort of childish desire in his eye, from which her heart filled with warmth.

“I won't.”

That night it seemed to her that he didn't fall asleep even for a moment – she felt his hand run over her fingers, over her shoulder, and when he was sure she was immersed in a dream, he smoothed her cheek with his thumb.

What surprised her was that every time he did this a warm, pleasant shiver ran through her body – she wished he would never stop, because this was the first time in her life she had felt so comforted by someone.

This event had changed him; clearly the realisation that she reciprocated his affection had emboldened him in some way.

When they finished their lessons, they often lay on his bed facing each other and talked, touching each other's hands, faces and hair at the same time. Her heart pounded like crazy as his fingers combed through her curls, as his hand closed around the back of her neck, massaging it gently.

“I like the way you smell,” he said once out of nowhere, surprising her completely, “and the fact that your skin is so pleasantly soft.”

She realised he was trying to offer her a compliment – the thought of the two of them taking a walk through the royal gardens or showing interest in each other in public filled him with embarrassment, however, he had clearly found that in the privacy of his chamber he was willing to give her something he was not offering anyone else.

His words.

She smiled broadly at his confession, feeling a pleasant warmth in her lower abdomen spilling over her insides like a wave.

“And I like your big hands,” she replied shyly, stroking the skin of his wrist with her fingers, “and your beautiful white hair.”

She saw that he swallowed loudly, and his lips tightened in an involuntary attempt to stop himself from showing any reaction to her words; nevertheless, his eye betrayed him – it grew large and full of something she understood perfectly.

He needed to hear that something of value could be seen in him too, including physically.

That he wasn't a cripple in her eyes.

The way he slowly leaned towards her, his lips that barely brushed hers in a gesture full of invitation, their hands that clasped in their hair seemed as natural to her as breathing – the caress of their lips was hotter and more intimate than they had ever been before, deep, filled with something she was yet to discover.

Kisses were a form of reward for them, but also some kind of consolation on difficult days; in this way, although they could not speak openly to each other about this subject, they gave each other a sense of mutual care.

Over time, although it carried a high risk of being caught, they took this caress beyond the thresholds of his room; it was enough for him to catch her in one of the less frequented corridors of the Red Keep for their brief – even rough on his side – exchange of words to end with his tongue invading between her plump lips.

He liked it when their tongues met and licked, because he was obviously aroused by how perverse and passionate it was; his healthy eye was closed when his body pressed hers against one of the cold stone walls, while their hot mouths melted together again and again.

It was a warm, wet experience, filled with their loud, raspy breaths, their hands tentatively trailing the silhouettes of their bodies, giving them only the promise of what they both desired.

In that moment, in some strange, chaotic way they were devouring each other.

Her cousin evidently believed that he did not need to explain or confess anything to her; no words of affection, if he had any for her, ever left his lips. On the contrary; as he grew taller and his physique grew stronger, so did his ego, and with it the impression that he could not afford to show what he thought was a mere feminine sentiments.

Perhaps this would have been the reason for her distress, had it not been for the fact that he paid more attention to her than to anyone else anyway; above all, to the despair of the other ladies of the court, she was the only person besides Criston Cole and members of his family with whom he spoke in public of his own free will.

He usually approached her when he had something to say to her and announced it to her as simply and quickly as possible – he would then stand erect in front of her with his hands folded behind his back and look off somewhere into the distance, glancing at her only occasionally, usually driven by mere curiosity.

“A wild dragon has been seen in the Vale regions lately.” He said to her one day, as she happened to be heading to his sister's chamber to help her change before supper. “He is said to be larger than Meleys.”

She blinked, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad – she looked around quickly, wanting to make sure no one had heard what he had said.

“Help me.” She whispered. “Please.”

Her cousin cocked his head and hummed, looking at her with his mouth formed in the shape of an o, as if he wanted to whistle in satisfaction.

He liked it when she begged.

“Hm. How can I be sure you won't use this dragon against me and my family one day?” He asked offhandedly, looking down at her, a kind of challenge in his voice.

She blinked, feeling cold discomfort in her chest at his words.

“I am your family.” She mumbled.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them – she could see in his gaze that he was thinking about something, at the same time unable to deny her words.

“We leave tomorrow, at dawn.” He finally communicated to her in boredom, leaving her bewildered.

“And the Queen and your grandfather? Do they know what you intend to do?” She asked, and he rolled his eye, clearly frustrated by her remark.

“Sheep don't understand the ways of dragons. It's beyond their comprehension.” He recognised with some kind of pride, from which she pressed her lips together to keep from expressing her disbelief.

Clearly something in the expression on her face must have betrayed her, for he looked at her suddenly with a piercing, watchful gaze, his jaw twitching in a reflex she knew well.

“Come to my chamber tonight.”

Just as she had done in their childhood days, to leave her rooms now she had to wait for the watch to change; only then would she slip out and take advantage of the moment to make her way down a dark, rarely used corridor through a side entrance to the prince's quarters.

She had no idea if anyone but her knew about it; presumably if they did, the guards thought the additional door remained locked. However, her cousin had left them open for her, and it was through these that she entered, stepping into his chamber, enveloped in the warm light of the fire.

She spotted his silhouette at once – he was sitting at the top of a long table, on which lay stacks of maps and letters, a thick, old volume in his hands.

When he heard her footsteps, he lifted a glance of his healthy eye to her, and then returned to his reading again, carelessly turning the page over.

She was not bothered by this; he was often in the habit of pretending not to see her at first. From her perspective, it was his attempt to cope with the fact that, although accustomed to solitude, he was hosting someone else in his private quarters.

She untied her cloak, placed it on one of the richly decorated oak chairs and, wearing nothing but her nightgown, took a slow, quiet step towards his bed. She knew she could do it, and that she was certain to stay with him anyway, so she simply lay back on the soft sheet and closed her eyes, listening to the pleasant sound of the sizzling fire.

For a moment, all she could hear was that and the rustle of pages being turned – the smell of him and the parchments pleasantly filled her nose, calming her.

The quiet creak of wood woke her from her half-sleep and she shuddered, opening her sleepy eyes – she spotted his silhouette heading lazily towards her. His hand rose to the belt of his tunic, undoing it with the quiet click of a buckle.

“Tomorrow. You must promise to obey me. Otherwise I will not fly with you.” He said calmly, looking at her with an expression on his face that pretended to show indifference.

“I will.” She said.

“Mm.” He hummed under his breath, finally pulling the leather material off his shoulders.

She made room for him and moved sideways on the bed as he sat on the edge of it and leaned over, pulling his boots off his feet. She watched wordlessly as he did the same a moment later with his eye patch, finally throwing it carelessly onto the stone floor. He sighed and hid his face in his hand, massaging the area around his scarred eye socket in some subconscious reflex.

Stress was causing discomfort to return to the left side of his face.

“You are in pain.” She whispered softly, raising herself up on her elbow.

He didn't reply, just swallowed hard and froze in stillness.

“Let me.” She insisted, and he finally looked at her and nodded.

She raised herself up on her knees and moved towards him, sitting down so that she could see his face. He looked at her silently with some kind of melancholy as her hands gently grasped his face and her thumbs began to massage his temples.

He immediately closed his eye and flinched as her thumbs moved over his brow arches and cheekbones – he twitched when she did it the first time, but relaxed more and more with each subsequent stroke, and his face took on an expression of relief.

“I wouldn't object if you did this to me all night.” He said quietly, his eyelid still closed. She smiled involuntarily at his words, running her fingers over his forehead, nose and cheeks, going back to the beginning – to his temples and brows.

“I can.” She said warmly, but he shook his head.

“We need to rest. Come. I want to sleep.”

She nodded and held out her hand to him, shifting back towards the middle of the bed – he moved obediently to follow her and literally fell into her arms, pressing his nose against the space between her breasts.

She wasn't sure if he was able to breathe in that position, but she could see that his chest was rising and falling, so she didn't comment on it, combing her fingers through his white hair.

She knew that he was hiding from the world now: he wanted to disappear for a while and simply not be, like a small, defenceless child.

The control that he, in his mind, had over his life had a high cost that he did not speak of – it superseded any of his other needs unrelated to survival and victory, whatever that victory would mean.

While it may have seemed complicated, in fact the truth was much simpler: he was tired. It wasn't so much a physical fatigue, however, but rather a spiritual one – the self-imposed compulsion to remain silent when he was still a child was something that kept him safe, but also imprisoned him in his own head.

She mused on this as she watched him in silence, playing with strands of his long hair, feeling his body grow loose in her embrace, the tips of his fingers wandering lazily over her bare arm, his eye remaining closed.

He craved her closeness, but in more ways than one; preferably ones he could see as safe in his mind.

Lying in her embrace was such; he could just lie there and let her stroke him, listening to the slow beat of her heart. He could smell her scent and feel the warmth of her body, hear her breathing, have her to himself and know that she would fall asleep with him.

It calmed him.

In the middle of the night, she was awakened by the touch of a familiar hand – when she opened her eyes, she was in the midst of darkness. Her cousin was still snuggled up against her body, and he was obviously convinced that she was deeply asleep – it was only because of this that he allowed his fingers to travel up to her breast and squeeze it gently, as if checking to see if it was as soft as he imagined.

She couldn't stop the hot shudder that ran through her body or the pulsing she felt deep between her thighs. Other than that, she didn't move; she felt him freeze for a while, but after a moment, when he recognised that she had reacted in her sleep, he went back to stroking her plump bosom with his fingers.

A soft, shaky breath escaped her lips, her hands tightened on his back, holding him close; she felt him flinch and he froze again, taking his hand quickly off her chest.

She heard him swallow hard as she grasped his wrist and, in a gentle, slow motion, placed his hand where it had been – her fingers intertwined with his, allowing him to sink into the softness of her flesh again.

She thought it was a very intimate experience, one from which her whole body grew hot and her cheeks lit up red. She closed her eyes, hearing both of them breathe a little louder, their bodies pressed tighter together, seeking closeness.

Her wordless consent apparently made him feel bold, because he leaned forward, closing his lips around her nipple, clearly visible under the thin material of her nightgown. Something between a moan of surprise and a sigh escaped her throat when she felt him begin to suck as if he were a baby – her fingers clenched on his hair, holding him close.

“– lēkia (big brother) –” She whispered and flinched as she felt something long and hard pulsate in his breeches, pushing against her thigh.

She didn't quite understand the purpose of what he was just doing, but it was pleasant; she thought perhaps it was one of the secrets Aegon had told him about the pleasures of the female body.

She kissed the top of his head as his hand slid down her waist, slipping uncertainly under her linen shirt to finally touch her bare knee.

She felt that something throbbed hard deep inside her, that something sticky ran down her buttock to the sheet beneath their bodies.

They both began to pant as his broad hand went higher up her thigh and then to her hip, squeezing it finally between his fingers.

She shuddered as his wrist slid lower, between her legs, and his hand immediately froze – exactly like her body – when he touched her moist, pulsing womanhood.

“May I?” He asked in a whisper, still snuggled into her chest, not daring to look at her.

“What… what do you want to do?” She answered question for question, unsure of how much she herself was ready for.

She heard him swallow hard, as if he was terrified of having to answer her out loud.

“I want to give you pleasure.”

She felt her heart pounding like mad under his cheek, her fingers gently stroking his head.

She wondered if she should say it.

“I'm afraid.”

He took his hand from between het thighs at her words.

“What are you afraid of? I would never hurt you.” He assured her with a kind of surprise and regret, as if he didn't believe he had to say it.

“It's such a… private place. I…”

“I didn't mean to rush you. Forgive me. Do not be afraid.” He whispered, his voice strangely soothing, as if he understood what she meant.

“I'm sorry.” She mumbled in shame, feeling that she had ruined something that could have changed everything between them.

Her cousin raised himself on his elbow to look at her, but her big, red eyes made him freeze.

“Daor, hāedar (no, little sister). Gaomagon limagon daor (do not cry).” He said in a quiet, melodious tone, his large hand gently cupping her hot cheek.

“It was happening so fast. Your hand…”

She didn't finish as he leaned over her and placed a soft, gentle kiss on her lips. They stayed like that for a while without separating their bodies, her fingers grasping his, holding him close.

When he finally pulled away from her, his gaze was calm.

“I should have prepared you better. Explain what I want to do.” He said with a kind of weariness from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

It was the first time he had spoken openly.

“Can you explain it to me now? So that I understand?” She asked, and he swallowed loudly, lowering his gaze for a moment.

He began to play with the material of her nightgown between his fingers, apparently struggling to find the right words to describe his desires.

“The source of a woman's pleasure, from what I understood from my brother's babble, is deep between her thighs. It is hidden there and must be found and caressed for a woman to achieve fulfilment.” He choked out finally, looking at her womb and hips, now hidden again under her shirt.

She twisted in her place, intrigued.

“The ladies of the court say that a man's tongue down there can perform wonders. But I don't know what they meant by that.” She said lightly.

She saw that he looked at her in shock, his nostrils twitched in a deep breath.

“You've heard about it too. From whom?” She asked amused.

He grunted and shrugged his shoulders, turning his head in the opposite direction.

“Aegon likes to brag about what he does to his whores and servants.” He muttered, feigning indifference, but his breathing, deep and uneven, betrayed him.

“Would you like to try it? That tongue thing.” He suggested suddenly, glancing in her direction out of the corner of his eye.

She drew in a loud breath, twisting in her place again, feeling her womanhood swell suddenly and pulsate around nothing at the very thought.

His mouth, down there.

“Doesn't it disgust you?” She mumbled in shame.

“You took a bath before you came to me, didn't you?”

“…I did.” She admitted, looking at him with wide eyes.

“So I can try. To satisfy our curiosity.” He proposed, apparently wanting to find any justification for what he wanted to do.

She nodded, feeling her heart in her throat, her stomach no longer filled with fear but with pure, hot excitement.

“If you don't like it, say so. I don't want to force you.” She said in a voice breaking with tension, watching in disbelief as he moved down, kneeling between her legs.

He threw her a meaningful look, in which she saw some kind of mockery.

“As if it's easy to force me to do anything against my will. Who do you think I am?” He asked with a wince, a slow, lazy movement of his hand lifting the material of her nightgown above her hips.

She had never been so exposed to anyone before in her life; she had to turn her gaze away to avoid looking at it and closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. Her hands tightened on the pillow on each side of her head when she felt him gently take her thighs in his rough hands and spread them slightly apart.

For a moment nothing happened; she thought he was just looking at her, or rather at what was between her legs. She sighed and flinched, surprised when his thumb ran down the length of her opening, apparently wanting to collect what had managed to leak out of her.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked uncertainly, clearly not understanding if her reaction was due to discomfort or not.

She shook her head quickly, looking up at him only to close her eyes again a moment later, overwhelmed by the helpless position she had just found herself in.

She was at his mercy.

He won't hurt me, she assured herself in spirit.

He promised me that, and he is a man of his word.

This thought calmed her.

Her heart thumped harder in her chest when she heard the bed creak loudly under the weight of his body, and then his hot breath enveloped her throbbing womanhood – a quiet moan of surprise broke from her throat when she felt his slick tongue run over her flesh, causing an aggressive shiver to pass down her spine.

She didn't have time to calm down after that first, shocking sensation, and his tongue again clung to her smooth, dripping cunt, licking it like a cat drinking milk – her hands involuntarily reached into his hair and clenched on it, her hips made a motion forward as if trying to sink into his face.

“– oh – yes –” She breathed out, but it seemed to her that this voice was not her own, its tones squeaky and girlish, full of surprise.

She thought her body was on fire, arching as it rocked to the rhythm of his caresses – she heard him sigh, obviously feeling her wetness begin to run down her buttocks. His lips closed gently around the sweet spot she felt most strongly and began to suck, making her cry out loudly, throwing her head back.

“– Aemond –” She whined out pleadingly, though she didn't know what she was really asking for – all she could hear and feel were the wet sounds of slurping and licking, lazy and unhurried, full of a thoroughness that drove her mad.

As she glanced down at him, for some reason wanting to see him now, she noticed that his eyelid was closed and he was completely absorbed in his task – his head was moving back and forth, disappearing again and again deep between her thighs.

It felt like a bolt of lightning pierced her lower abdomen when she felt his tongue burst inside her body and begin to thrust between her fleshy, hot walls.

“– g-gods – gods, oh, fuck, fuck, yes, yes, brother, here, right here, yes –” She begged, completely losing touch with reality, feeling nothing but overwhelming pleasure as again and again the tip of his tongue teased a spot deep inside her, from which the tension in her loins became unbearable.

She felt that some sort of peak was approaching, that if it lasted even a moment longer, her poor womanhood would simply explode.

“– ah! –” She almost screamed out in pleasure as a convulsion shook her body – she threw her head back, feeling a wonderful, overpowering, tickling wave of heat spread across her insides, flowing through her mouth, her breasts, her belly, down to her throbbing, leaking cunt.

She panted for a moment longer, wishing the feeling would never go away, until she froze powerless, breathing heavily with her eyes closed. She only looked up at him when she heard the quiet rustling of fabric, followed by quick, rhythmic, sticky splats – before she could make any sound his mouth was on hers, tasting foreign, salty and sweet at the same time.

She moaned into his throat, surprised when she felt something warm and long rub against her womanhood again and again – at first she was frightened that he craved fulfillment inside her, but contrary to her assumption, he did not try to take her. He caressed himself with his hand, squeezing his manhood at the very root, teasing its smooth tip by running it over her moist, oversensitive slit.

She murmured contentedly, sinking her hands into his long hair, letting it fall lightly against her body. Knowing that he was balancing on one hand and just giving himself pleasure with the other, she decided to help him achieve satisfaction, exactly as he had helped her.

He looked at her with his mouth wide open, breaking the kiss for a moment when he saw her slide her nightgown off her shoulders, revealing the fullness of her breasts to him. He closed his eyes and gave her a quiet little moan as she lifted his shirt up, exposing his chest, and with a gesture of her arms, encouraged him to let their bare skin touch.

“– hāedar – mmm –” He breathed out into her mouth, sliding his tongue deep into her throat, his free hand grasping her breast so that with every movement of his hips her nipple rubbed against his chest.

Her body was all flushed from what she had experienced with him earlier, and his uncontrollable, almost animalistic movements were giving her some strange kind of pleasure. She knew he didn't want to take advantage of her – on the contrary, he no longer knew what to do with the tension he himself felt in his loins and was looking for a way to take her while not depriving her of what should not yet be his.

She didn't know what he thought of it, but she let her hands roam over his bare neck and down his back under his shirt, to his exposed buttocks from which he had slipped his breeches off. His body twitched each time her fingers explored a new region of his skin that no one but himself had ever seen or felt before – the slaps of his hand became faster and harsher, his breath heavy in her throat, the bed on which they lay began to creak loudly under their weight.

And then suddenly he made a sound of strange relief, as if he had sighed deeply and was about to cry – she squealed quietly, surprised to feel something warm and sticky spill over her abdomen and thighs, realising after a moment that it was his seed.

His body fell inertly on top of her, as if what he had done had cost him all the strength he had left, and he drew in deep breath, apparently trying to calm himself. She felt his heart pounding hard in his chest, pressed tightly against hers – his manhood, still twitching and pulsing, now lying between his body and hers, was nestled against her stomach.

She stroked his hair and his back, cuddling her cheek into his temple, trying to calm down with him and comprehend what had really happened: their bodies were hot and wet with sweat, she felt a drop of it run down her spine.

She had never been more exposed, but she had also never felt more safe.

She wasn't sure if she should say anything – she really wanted to, however, she feared that the barrage of words that would flow from her mouth would simply overwhelm him after what had happened.

She suspected that, like her, her cousin was in a state of some sort of shock.

She blinked and shuddered when she suddenly heard his voice near her ear.

“Forgive me.”

She swallowed hard, feeling discomfort at the words, for some reason filled with guilt and resignation.

“What should I forgive you for?” She asked in a whisper, looking uncertainly in his direction.

Their eyes met.

“I was supposed to protect you. I didn't keep my word.” He said finally, startling her completely.

“You can't protect me from lust. You can only make it a pleasurable experience for me, in your strong, safe arms.” She replied with a kind of conviction that evidently impressed him, for he remained silent for a long time, looking at her with wide-open eye.

“You don't resent me?” He muttered, and she shook her head, smiling for some reason.

“No. I am happy that we are discovering these fascinating mysteries together. I could not imagine a more beloved and trusted companion for this journey.” She whispered, and he snorted, but she noticed in the darkness of the chamber that the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Let's sleep.”

Aemond

When he woke up, the sun had not yet risen on the horizon – he always got up before dawn. The order of his day was predetermined and he didn't like anything to change his plans. First he would eat his morning meal, preferably one that would give him energy before sparring. Then he would move on to training his body, spending long hours in the courtyard with a sword in hand.

When this was behind him, he would take a nice hot bath in the privacy of his chamber, spending the rest of the day delving into old, thick tomes that smelled of dust. He was not fond of suppers with his family, for they bored him and were a time of mere, even simpering courtesy which he did not understand, he endured them, however, because he could then look at her in peace.

As in their childhood, she was sitting in exactly the same place now – opposite him, at the side of his sister Helaena, at the very end of the table.

To their right sat only Daeron.

Helaena was fond of her, because their cousin understood and respected her barriers. It was something he himself deeply valued in her – the fact that she could watch someone carefully and knew the boundaries she could not cross.

It made him, as well as his sister, enjoy being in her company – they knew they would not be surprised in an unpleasant way or put in a situation that would be uncomfortable for them.

In the case of her and Helaena, a sincere, warm friendship had grown between them over the years; he didn't mind this turn of events because he knew that his cousin didn't gossip about his sister with the other ladies of the court and that she kept her secrets, like his, deep in her heart.

He, of course, was not such a fool as to share his worries or thoughts with her, however, he would be lying if he said that he did not enjoy speaking with her, though he usually tried to give that impression.

“Will you stand to fight in a tournament in honour of our king's Name Day?” She asked him, putting her bow and arrows back in place while he sharpened his dagger, which he always carried with him.

Ever since she managed to tame Sheepstealer she has been more brazen than usual.

“Do you want to annoy me?” He answered dryly with a question to a question, not even looking at her despite his overwhelming desire to do so – her familiar scent reached his nose, making his manhood pulsate softly in his breeches.

His tongue swirling around her hard nipple, his two long fingers thrusting deep into her throbbing, hot cunt, all leaking with desire.

He felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine and he swallowed hard, trying to keep a stony face.

He heard her laugh behind him.

“No, but my wreath will have to fall to someone else. Pity. Perhaps I'll give my blessing to your uncle.” She said lightly, and he struggled to hold back the grimace of displeasure that pressed against his lips.

Gwayne was fond of her, and his affection was reciprocated – when he came to the Red Keep to visit his father and sister, he often chatted with her during supper and teased her in ways that drove him mad.

Usually, however, one sharp look from him over the table in her direction was enough for his cousin to turn to Helaena and pay no further attention to his uncle.

“Do what you want.” He burbled coldly, and she sighed heavily.

“Just don't be surprised.” She said disapprovingly, but before he had time to answer her anything she turned and disappeared into the depths of the castle, leaving him with her words and the discomfort he felt in his heart.

Did she really have to give anyone that fucking wreath?

On the other hand, what would it look like if she refused to give it to anyone?

What would his mother have said?

Whether he wanted to or not, he had to watch the next day as his uncle, proud in his armor, sat on his gray steed, holding aloft his lance, on which his cousin had placed a wreath of field flowers.

He looked ahead as she sat back between him and his sister, pretending not to feel how she pressed her arm against his. His gaze involuntarily fled to the side, to her hand, when he felt her little finger brush over his.

He swallowed hard and crossed his legs, shocked that this public expression of intimacy aroused him.

Did the people sitting behind them see it?

Rumors about the nature of their relationship had been spreading around King's Landing for years anyway.

His fingers involuntarily began to pluck the cuticles around his fingernails in some subconscious, nervous gesture full of excitement, the source of which he did not understand.

That night he took her for the first time.

At the beginning, it was simply a coupling similar to others they had experienced so far, but more fiery and loud, full of his frustrations and her assurances that she was faithful to him.

But then, instead of just rubbing his long manhood against the space between her thighs as usual, he decided to experience the warmth that was hidden deep inside her.

“– now I will receive my wreath – the only one that matters –” He exhaled into her ear, involuntarily pushing the tip of his length, swollen with pain and desire, against her moist, pulsing opening.

She let out a moan full of surprise and effort, her nails digging into the bare skin of his back.

“– Aemond – we can't – we can't –” She mewled and gasped as she felt that with a steady, slow thrusts he began to force his way into her hot, fleshy interior.

“– fuck –” He mouthed, feeling his heart pounding like mad, thinking that he shouldn't be doing this, but he had to, because he couldn't bear it any longer.

“– just let me –” He asked in a breaking voice, and she complied with his request.

She stared at him with her mouth wide open, trying to catch her breath as he began to move inside her, sinking deeper and deeper into her body with each deep push.

He pressed his forehead against hers, panting along with her, and stroked her sweaty cheek, looking at her with desperation, wordlessly asking her for forgiveness.

He expected it to be pleasurable, but didn't know it would be that much – her insides were warm and moist, enveloping his manhood on all sides, while squeezing him so tightly that he had trouble taking a deeper breath.

He had the impression that he was in some kind of trance, and the sounds that left their throats were not their own – their moans were high-pitched, similar to crying, her fingers clenched on his buttocks, her hips seeking rhythm with his thrusts, rocking back and forth.

“– I need this – do you understand? – I need you –” He mumbled in pain, imposing a faster, sharper pace on her, finally filling her completely.

His hips pounded against her buttocks with loud, wet splats, her moist, hot walls throbbing around his manhood, clenching against it in a way from which he felt like howling with pleasure.

“– here – please, here, brother –” She sobbed, arching her back so that the entirety of his manhood brushed against the upper wall inside her hot, spasming cunt.

“– here? – here it feels good? –” He panted with excitement, grabbing her hips in his hands, deliberately teasing the area she had showed him now – she threw her head back, her girlish cries of pleasure had to be enough of an answer for him.

“– yes – g-gods – ah –” She whimpered out, clearly experiencing it as extremely as he was, wriggling under him in pure ecstasy.

He just stared at her as his thumb ran over her swollen, plump lower lip, as her breasts bounced lightly with each of his deep, sharp stabs, until he finally felt what he so craved approaching.

An almost animalistic sound of relief came from his throat as he reached his peak inside her – he heard her sweet sound of pleasure and felt the shudder that shook her whole body, her leaking womanhood squeezing his cock greedily, sucking his seed deep inside her.

He collapsed on top of her and snuggled into her warm, sweaty skin, letting their arms embrace their figures tightly. They were both panting and quivering, feeling each other more than ever, wanting to stay that way.

As one.

He had promised himself, however, that he would never beget a bastard, and having his cousin drink moon tea was not an option for him.

He was not going to kill his own blood, his own heritage, his own child.

Then he decided that the time had come.

“Marry me.”

[vantedaes]

cry, cry, cry

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader tags: porn with little plot, dacryphilia (or an attempt at it at least) soft dom nanami, slight breathplay, fingering, alcohol use, body fluids mentions, unprotected sex, manhandling, slight objectivization, passing out, hair pulling, pussy spanking, slight breeding kink, reader does not talk but because of the context no because she can't. NO PROOFREAD. an: English is not my first language, there might be mistakes that would be addressed,,, someday, for now I just want this to be posted it has been sitting on my drafts like forever. Inspired by this tiktok of my lovely bbh

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT +18 ONLY!!!

!Husband Kento was not a stranger to being enraged when working overtime, however, he didn't make a habit of taking that rage home, where his lovely wife was waiting for him. Unfortunately for him, today was one of those days he couldn´t stop the bubbling wrath when returning home after insufferable overtime hours cleaning everyone´s messes.

Of course, he had sent you a text beforehand letting you know that it was for the best to allow him time to cool down before talking to him, and thankfully you've been supporting and understanding as ever telling him that he shouldn´t worry and that a glass of his favorite bourbon was already served in his study.

You knew exactly that your lovely husband had an especially rough day, you could tell by the sound of the door opening an abrasive almost like the FBI was breaking into your house, you could hear from your shared room the loud slamming of the door, so strong it made you flinch, your cat scaping your blanket running into hiding somewhere in the closet.

Closing your book you put it on your nightstand and heard how the heavy steps of your husband made their way to your home, you could listen to the rustling of his clothing and another slam of what you could guess was his suitcase, oh, he was real upset, Not long after that you hear him opening the door of his study. Standing up you got out of your shared room, you didn't want to bother him at all knowing he had to blow some steam, so you just went to the drawing room to assess the situation, with soft steps you saw how his coat was thrown under the hanger and his suitcase a few steps from the coat, open, revealing what you could only assume was red numbers and some other reports he had to deal with, you did your best to accommodate everything in its place hearing your husband going slamming things in his office.

You knew it was better to just go to sleep and wait for him to come to bed whenever he felt like it, but, you were also curious, you´d never seen him this upset, so after getting his things together you made your way silently to his study, almost on tiptoes, the door was wide open which made your little espionage easier. Only the light of his desk was on, you leaned in the doorframe like a child trying not to get busted when they know were being naughty, your breath caught into your throat when you saw him, his back to you pouring even more of the bourbon and gulping it in just one quick motion, his muscles evidently tense making him look even bigger, menacing even, his big hands gripping the glass and the movement of his throat working that burning alcohol down like it was nothing.

And dear lord, you could feel your pajama shorts getting soaked.

Your skin burned like it had caught on fire, you weren't unfamiliar with how insanely hot and attractive your husband was, but this was different, this was the first time you'd seen him, this, this enraged, his whole demeanor changing in a drastic form that you've never experimented and your eyes were glazing for just the sight, your fingers itching to help you relieve some of that tension desire building in the pit of your stomach. Your husband then sits on his chair, his strong tights expanding, and his crotch more prominent, his hair like a full mess, golden locks falling into his gorgeous face that was contorted into a hostile expression that only made you press your tights even closer to each other, you could feel yourself trembling with a raw need that was taking over every grain of your sanity.

But then in a swift motion, after struggling to take off his tie he simply opted for tearing the damn thing apart, the buttons of his shirt flying to different parts of the room, allowing his massive chest to breathe and with that sinful sight you couldn't help but gasp. Still, in reality, it was more like a pitiful whimper that was capable of getting your very angry husband´s attention to you.

The moment your eyes connected with his dark eyes you didn´t move an inch, something like fear and excitement creeping into you, like a fear of a beast that found the most helpless prey on its own lair, which was accurately what was happening.

Your husband stood up and gulped the whisky quickly, licking his lips as he addressed you.

"C´me here" His voice was raspy, like going through your whole body, it made you quiver even more, made your whole being more intoxicated.

Slowly you approached him, his eyes never leaving you for a second, and you were used to Kento´s eyes on you, his attentive and longing gaze every time he looked at you, but the way he was looking at you now was something else, like drinking the sight of you, like devouring your whole image, resembling a madman that has been starved. When you got close enough you stopped, just a few centimeters separating you, he smirked cockily his lips glazed with the bourbon, and your nostrils were filled with the scent of his cologne mixed with alcohol it roamed through your figure and you find yourself inhaling it, fueling even more the heat that was about to explode inside your body. Your husband looked amused at how you were paralyzed in front of him like you were asking permission to touch him, your own husband, it was ridiculous, and yet it was what his good girl knew had to do.

"Look at you, shamelessly spying on me when I perfectly told you to give me space" His hand gripped your chin with a strength that made you part your lips in surprise "Now that you got what you wanted...you´re all shaky, angel"

You wanted to answer sure, it wasn´t your nature to stay quiet, you were always quick with a comeback but just like in a trance, you were just mute and so fucking needy, he, your husband, was not a man who loses his calm like ever, one year of marriage and you've never seen him this deranged.

He could hardly blame you for how your body reacted, you yourself didn't know you could find him even hotter.

Quivering, you tried to speak "I—"

And without any kind of warning, he grabbed your waist with a strength that made you gasp in surprise, the sound of shattering glass stealing your attention for a quick second —he really threw his glass on the floor—, but as soon as you felt your frame pressed tightly at the body of Kento your mind went to a fucking blank again, contemplating how his normally hazel color eyes were totally pitch black. His arm was like an iron band around your waist and your hands posed on his big chest trying to hold onto something, his closeness making you quiver like a leaf and you could just read in his expression how much he liked all of your wretched reactions.

"Shh...it´s alright angel" he whispered hotly upon your lips "I already know what you want"

Before you could process any of his words he took you and bent you over his desk, your hips pressed against the edge of it and all of the stuff on top of it falling down, the bottle of whiskey spilling over the wood surface where your face was now pressed against wetting your cheek and lips, you were never a fan of whiskey —or any strong alcohol really—, but right now you welcomed it eagerly with your mouth hanging open when you felt the hot and rough hands of your husband stripping you off your pajama shorts, your cunt being met with the breeze of the room, soaked, you felt how your juices were already trailing your tights. You moaned pitifully, your hole clenching into nothing.

Nanami laughed in a vibrato that made your knees buckle, "Look at that, so fucking wet..." his fingers trailed your dampness pressing over your wet swollen lips gathering all the liquid before entering your entrance in a quick movement, you let out a high pitched moan at the sudden intermission "That´s right angel, you will take it"

He kept moving his fingers inside your cunt quickly while his other hand kept your head firmly pressed into his desk, the whisky fusing with your saliva as you kept loudly moaning, your body going into shambles quickly, Nanami was like a feral beast fucking you with his fingers letting out the hottest low grunts that were making your orgasm approach in a tidal wave in just mere seconds of his fingers inside you.

"Yes yes yes" you chanted in ecstasy, your legs fully trembling as your orgasm hit you with an intensity that would almost make you fall if it wasn't for the firm hand of your husband keeping you still on the surface of his desk, a loud moaning of his name leaving your mouth.

"made a mess of my fingers angel, so needy you came so fast" his fingers leaving your leaky entrance and trailing through your cunt greedily. you were panting with the aftermath of your orgasm, the whiskey now soaking the whole table and part of your hair "Filthy, filthy girl, looking like a used whore after just taking my fingers"

He roamed a chuckle, then you heard him sucking his fingers nastily, sounding richly across the room, and in a quick moment he slapped your pussy making you scream your already shaky legs buckling and almost falling to the floor only to be grabbed by your wrists and manhandled to your position on the table.

Another smack on your pussy made you yelp, "Come on now, don't act like this cunt doesn't like it rough" You felt him pressing against your ass, fully clothed, and yet you felt the big bulge twitching against your bare cunt, soaking his pants, it was unbearable to have his cock still on his pants when you wanted it so so so bad.

However, you could only mutter pathetic whimpers, so clouded and drunk on his cock that wasn't even inside you. "Stay put" Your husband demanded and you immediately went still, excitement filling your body as you heard him unfast his belt followed by his zipper and a delicious groan as his cock was fully out

You couldn't quite see but you knew he didn't take off his pants by the way you could feel the fabric on your tights and fuck, you could come just right there again.

"I believe you know I have no intend of going soft with you tonight," He remarked while tracing his cock on your swollen lips, his precum fusing with your juices "Oh, but look at you angel... so fucked up looking like you could die if I don't give you this cock"

"I—" A slap to your asscheek cut you off to a pathetic moan, and soon you felt the hard body of your husband pressing on your back to whisper in your ear.

"I don´t want to hear anything that is not those pathetic little moans you made" His hot breath against your neck had you shivering, with his hard cock nestled between your folds you could do nothing but behave, tears escaping your eyes betraying how much you wanted it, how much you need it, Nanami trailed your neck inhaling your scent like he needed it more than air, getting drunk on it and leaving wet open mouth kisses on your boiling hot skin. Despite the twitching of his cock against your folds he did nothing more than tease your skin with his hot breath on your most sensible zones, driving you into absolute madness, your hole clenching, hungry, and desperate.

His hands gripping your waist tightly, you were sure tomorrow it'll have a mark. "Nothing more than a slut for this cock hm?" he teased leaving your back, standing again he took your jaw turning your face to him, when you looked at his handsome face his eyes looked like a deep endless void of how black and dilated they were, not a trace of his usual hazel like eyes, he looked at you with ravenousness, his eyes darting through your face that was now covered in tears

His cock twitched at the sight of your whipping face, you started sobbing, your lips trembling in a way of begging him to fuck you.

"Oh fuck" He moaned leaving your jaw to tug on your hair and grabbing the base of his cock he finally directed his tip to your needy entrance, you moaned even more between tears feeling how the length of your husband's cock stretched you.

Fuuuuck, your husband was big and, oh, he did not intend to go soft with you, remember? So you should have expected when his full-length slammed into your cunt in a strong thrust, making you cry loud, your hands grabbing the edge of the table, you could feel his cock molding your insides, his veins popping through your walls and if you were already not intoxicated you surely were now.

Nanami moaned feeling your pussy tightening around him like you want to cut him off, he pulled your hair into his fist harder and looking straight at your eyes he hissed, "Put your fucking hands were they where"

Looking at him with big tearful eyes you clasped your hands together behind your back, your whole stability now depending on how your husband had your hair pulled into his fist. "Such an obedient girl... Now keep sobbing like a dumb slut while I feed you this cock"

And with that, you could only hiccup pathetically, Nanami's thrusts were erratic and fast, kissing every bit of your insides, he looked at you with a deranged look, enjoying how you were drooling and crying while taking his cock so harshly, he fucking loved it, having you go all fucking stupid on his big cock and have you reduced to a needy little thing.

"Yes, fuck—that's right, so fucking tight around me" his sloppy thrust was making you dizzy on how deep he was reaching into you, your orgasm already in the making ready to burst with the warning of being even bigger than the last one and your husband knew it completely, that smirk of his adorning his lips, with that your second orgasm erupt shaking your whole body, your husband groaned pulling on your hair harder making you stare at him while you creamed his cock and your eyes rolled, tears trailing down your face to your throat disappearing on your breasts, your husband's depraved eyes look at it and soon you had him turning you around without leaving your sloppy hole to now have you laying down the desk in a more comfortably position

A position that allowed you to look upon your very disheveled husband, through your teary and hazy eyes you could see and drink at the sight of Nanami just fucking into you like a mad man, like a fucking wild animal, his hands now gripping your jaw playing with it like you were a useless doll, his fingers entering your hot mouth pressing on your tongue while he kept pounding that fat cock into you, you whimper so cockdrunk you were about to pass out feeling his hard cock kiss your cervix every time, he was ruthless in the way he was fucking you and you were obsessed with it.

"Fuck, I'm going to fill you up so fucking good" he left your jaw and slapped your tits before rubbing your clit in a maniac rhythm that pull you out of your drowsy state and soon you were filling up another orgasm approaching, "come for me sweetheart, I know you can, fuck—do it"

His thrusts were, even more, sloppier, erratic, and quick you felt like you were about to explode, it was way too much, you were pushing the limits of your oversensitive body, but oh, how you loved it especially when you felt his hard cock stiffen even more inside you and warm cum filling your insides and soon you were cumming a third time, this time even more intense than the previous ones and your whole body shudder at the immense pleasure and the fullness of the cum inside you, your husband moans in the background of your nirvana, it was as you where losing your hold on reality and soon everything went blank.

!Husband Kento was heavily panting rolling off the immense orgasm he had, only to find his lovely wife passed out on his desk, and even though his first response was to get worried that he indeed had been too rough with you, but, the happiness on your —very fucked up— face told him everything he needed to know.

Taking his dick out of you he put himself together and took your limp body in his arms to carry you into the bathroom, somewhere along the way you regained consciousness, your pretty confused eyes looked at him and soon your cheeks turned red "Hello beautiful, I'm going to take care of you now"

Simply he assured you with a smile and a kiss to your damped forehead, you smelled like sweat and whiskey.

"..." You looked like you wanted to speak and Nanami could only chuckle affectionately at your uncertainty.

"You can speak now angel"

[yuutawe]

YUUTA OKKOTSU AS A BOYFRIEND! ﹕headcanons

꒰ warnings!!꒱ there is a nsfw part near the end ! aged-up yuuta (he's 21 here) ! yandere yuuta ! reader is implied to be into his obsessions + at least slighly aware ! delusional yuuta ! mentions of marriage ! manipulation (lovebombing) ! ⤷﹒✦┆mentions of bdsm + switch yuuta + overstimulation (implied) + dacryphilia (implied).

ꖛ about. * reader is gender-neutral. no anatomy specified + they/them pronouns and genderless nicknames.

ꖛ author's note * aaaaaghhh wanted this to be longer. got embarrassed writing nsfw, ngl. hope you enjoy ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎[ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎NOT PROOFREAD!]

PRE-RELATIONSHIP !! ꒱୨९

yuuta being yuuta, you probably were the one to ask him out. the life of a sorcerer was one where relationships didn't have much space on the personal agenda (unless he made a few extra efforts). initially, the big obstacle is yuuta's own shyness and the traumas he carries with his bruised soul.

when he starts to get interested in you, his first reaction is to panic. pure and fickle, sprouting in his heart like a parasite. it starts innocently enough: liking older photos on your social media. late-night messages. drinks at the weekend, until he notices his hand on your lower back as he guides a drunken you to the car.

you’re snoring on the passenger’s seat and yuuta is wide-eyed, his thoughts a mile per minute. this can't be happening.

yuuta can't dodge maki's taunts, toge's questions (which are too judgemental for someone who only talks in onigiri ingredients) and panda's cupid advice. nobody really understands how he's feeling.

even though he has learnt a lot from losing rika and eventually letting her go, he still fears and longs for true, pure love. it's almost a necessity. he underwent grief counselling and still got over his old crush in a surprisingly healthy way, for someone who was literally haunted by the ghost of said crush for years of his life.

then you arrive. with a gentle smile, sweet words and an unforgettable body. how could he resist? god, he wants to marry you in the spot. but yuuta knows it's a selfish desire.

he's very, very respectful, and tries not to let his interest show in a way that makes you uncomfortable. it's all about knowing how to read the smallest, subtlest signs, and he'll be well understood. yuuta is the kind of guy who will walk you to your car when you leave somewhere, the guy who remembers to take an extra jacket or offers you his when it's too cold, the guy who always remembers your preferences, allergies, and other small details.

an observer, he's always the silent one who rarely engages in conversation. initially, it's very much a ‘you talk, he answers’ kind of thing, but eventually he gains enough confidence to open up and constantly initiates and continues conversations with you.

his lingering glances at your body don't go unnoticed by you. maybe there's a bit of teasing coming from you, depending on your personality, but it doesn't matter. he's too shy to make the first move. so you do.

after the first date, that's when things blossom.

HONEYMOON PHASE !! ꒱୨९

the honeymoon phase is one of the best experiences you can have dating yuuta. things are new, slightly superficial, but overall very nice and gentle. he is unfortunately a bit prone to lovebombing, even if he doesn't realize it. he can be extremely smothering and hyper-protective at times, but an honest conversation of five to ten minutes can easily help him correct this behaviour.

he's a great listener, and fights are almost non-existent. gestures of love are constant and always innovative: flowers every week, homemade chocolates if you're a fan, reservations at places that interest you and even simple dates at home. marathons of series or films that end in soft kisses and warm hugs.

he does ask for you two to live together a bit too quickly.

POST-HONEYMOON PHASE !! ꒱୨९

even when the honeymoon phase is over, yuuta is never less romantic. he makes a point of doing little gestures like cooking, cleaning and organising the house for when you arrive. It starts as a surprise in a few days — surprise, love! Now you don't have to clean anything — but if you don't want to let him do all the work, he'll agree to a routine where the two of you can alternate housework. the only thing he asks for in return for all the hard work is a few kisses and a cute name as his contact in your phone (like ‘love’, ‘mine’, ‘promised’, ‘husband’).

he's clingy. yuuta is completely starved for touch. he always likes to end an evening by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the soft curve of your neck and shoulder. if he can leave a few kisses there before he falls asleep, even better. he doesn't move much during the night, but he's the type with cold hands and a warm body.

yuuta is the kind of man who, if you get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, when you come back to the bedroom, you'll see him sitting on the bed, devastated — why did you leave me. dramatic, but in a way that can end up being cute.

GENERAL VIEW !! ꒱୨९

in general, if you can ignore “petty” habits like stalking, overprotection and are willing to hug him and wipe the blood off his face when he comes back from missions, it's a great relationship. if you like men who are obsessed with you, he's simply the best possible option. always trying to touch you or be close to you, making sure you're comfortable — a sweet voice asking is everything okay, love? we can leave if you want.

he wants to take you away from the world and have you all to himself, sometimes, but he makes the sacrifice of sharing because it's what makes you happiest. yuuta is super supportive with your career or if you want to be the type to look after the house. whichever is best for you, he's happy! he's willing to listen to you complain about work while he massages your shoulders, takes your shoes off for you and carries you around the house to the bathroom.

“i'll love you forever.” he murmurs as he kisses your forehead.

SEX LIFE !! ꒱୨९

although it doesn't seem like it, yuuta has a relatively high libido. if this is a problem for you, he can get used to solving it on his own. however, all his fantasies involve you in some way. often, while spending days away on a mission, he begs for a photo or audio of your voice, because he can't enjoy it without you. “please, love, i need you.”

distance is a cruel poison, but he makes a point of not bothering you about it if he can sort it out himself.

his stamina is good. yuuta can last three rounds before having to give up. if you push his limits, he can last six, and fall asleep minutes later.

he's a switch. he's naturally a bit submissive, and the type who lives to give you pleasure. service sub and soft dom, it's basically him.

when he is the submissive one, he sounds more like: “please, please, please, more— don’t stop, don’t stop, i’ll do anything—”

and when he is the one domming you, he's more: “is this good, my love?” he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, smiling. “you’re so perfect.”

he'll do anything you want — hit him, push him to the limit, pull his hair. slap him, make him cry just to lick the tears off his cheeks (he loves that crap). he’s yours.

he likes it when you bite and leave marks on him. yuuta will often wear the hickeys and bites as a trophy. as living proof on his body that your love belongs to him, and vice versa.

he moans really, really loud. probably more than you do. it's the kind of whine and long moan that makes the neighbours complain. even when he's on top, he can't hold back the noise he makes when you're together. if you want him to be quiet, you'll have to gag him, or he'll need to bite your shoulder or have his face buried in the pillow.

always after sex, yuuta tries to make you stay in bed, clinging to you and hugging you like a teddy bear. he demands his cuddles. and of course, how could you deny anything to him?

he loves you as much as you love him, after all.

© made by yuutawe on tumblr. do not copy, repost, modify or translate my works in this or any other site — inspirations allowed with credits.

[theemporium]

[1.7k] they want to believe jack when he says he has a girlfriend. they really do. it's just kind of hard to do so when they never see her. or, in which everyone is worried jack has found himself in a parasocial relationship.

.

“Fuck.” 

Jack raised his head, finding his attention drawn to his captain sitting on the aisle across from him on the bus. He watched as the man began patting himself down before he let out a sigh, standing up to reach for his bag on the overhead shelf. Yet, whatever he was trying to find was a fruitless endeavour as he settled back in his seat with a frown on his face.

“You good?” 

“Hm,” Nico hummed, letting out another long breath as he leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I just forgot my headphones.”

“Nico Hischier not being organised?” Jack teased, a smile growing on his face. “Someone alert the authorities.”

Nico huffed out a laugh. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” 

“Just messin’ with you, cap,” Jack mused, deciding to be the better person and not point out the fact he could see Nico’s dimple even if the boy tried to act like he wasn’t laughing. “Here, I’ll share my music with you. Because I’m nice like that.”

The older boy raised his brows. “Your music for the full five hour drive?”

Jack raised his brows in return. “Do you have anything else better to do?”

“Fair enough,” Nico murmured before he reached over, taking the airpod and slipping it into his ear. “But I get to add some songs too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack waved him off before handing over his phone. “Maybe try more English rap songs so I can understand them too, yeah?” 

“Sure, because I’m nice like that,” Nico said with a grin before he turned to shift his attention to Jack’s phone. He clicked on the queue, his brows furrowing slightly when he saw the songs lined up. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Nico murmured. “I just thought you were a country music kind of guy. Never thought you’d be into the rock scene.”

Jack’s cheeks burned as he let out a slightly strained laugh. “I was, uh, broadening my horizons.”

Nico turned to look at him. “So you chose one band? You know, I know a couple of bands if you want them—”

“I’m fine with that band,” Jack said, flashing his captain a smile. 

“You’ve liked every one of their songs.”

“Mhm.”

“So, you know you like the genre, at least. Maybe you should try—”

“I’m good.”

“Jack—”

“Start queuing songs before I take my phone back, Hisch.”

Nico stared at him for a few moments, noting the way he fidgeted in his seat with his cheeks flushed far brighter than they should be with the bus AC blasting. But, Nico decided he would be nice this time around and not bring it up.

Not yet, at least.

Plus the band Jack had chosen was pretty good, if he did say so himself.

...

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yourusername ready to rock north america❤️🖤

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...

“What are you giggling at?”

“I’m not giggling at anything.” 

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You literally giggled as you said that.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Unfortunately for Luke, this had been a recurring conversation over the last few weeks because, despite what he said, Jack spent the better part of his free time giggling at his phone. It was sickening and annoying and Luke was so done with trying to scroll through TikTok with his brother snickering like some teenage girl in the background. 

It was starting to grate on his last nerve.

“You’re so full of shit,” Luke grumbled as he shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, narrowing his eyes on his big brother from over the kitchen counter. 

“Maybe you should find someone to text and stop bothering me,” Jack retorted, the words slipping past his lips so casually, almost like he hadn’t realised what he said. 

But Luke heard loud and clear.

He straightened up in his seat, his annoyance now replaced with curiosity and he flashed his brother an inquisitive look. “Who are you messaging that has you giggling?” 

“I am not giggling,” Jack huffed out before he lifted his head, finally looking away from his phone screen to catch his brother’s gaze. “And, for your information, I am texting my girlfriend.” 

A few moments of silence passed as both boys stared at each other.

Luke blinked. “When the fuck did you get a girlfriend?” 

“It’s new,” Jack said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. 

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “How new?” 

“Just a couple of months or so,” Jack murmured, at least having the guts to look a little sheepish as a light blush spread across his cheeks. 

“Months?!” Luke repeated with a scoff, the bowl of cereal he was snacking on now long forgotten. “How come this is the first time I’m hearing of it?” 

“We are keeping things private!” Jack defended. 

“I’m your brother!” Luke retorted. “You’re meant to tell me shit. I’d tell you if I had a girlfriend! Quinn would tell me if he had a girlfriend!” 

“But neither of you do,” he snapped back with a shit-eating grin. 

“And you supposedly do,” Luke muttered, shaking his head. “What’s her name?” 

“That’s not important.”

Luke blinked. “Uh, yeah, dude, I think it is.” 

Jack shrugged again. “Maybe I don’t want you to know.” 

“Why not?” Luke questioned, watching his brother just shrug again—not that he was getting fucking sick of that or anything—before he glared. “Is it someone I know?” 

“Maybe.” 

“You’re being ridiculously vague right now and it’s annoying as fuck,” Luke told him. 

Jack’s grin widened. “I know!” 

“Fine, keep your stupid secrets,” Luke grumbled as he reached for his spoon again, rolling his eyes when he heard Jack laughing. “Like I fucking care anyways.” 

But he did. 

He really fucking did and he would find out who this secret girlfriend was if it’s the last thing he did. 

...

liked by jackhughes and 213,839 others

yourusername las vegas, you ALWAYS make me feel at home❤️🖤

view 12,930 comments

user MOTHER!!!

user hot AND talented. your fav could never

user new music when!!!

user THE SHIRT-

jackhughes ur so pretty😍😍😍

user not this guy again

user not a man

notzegrasipromise JACK???

...

...

“Yeah, I mean, I love my parents but I wish my girlfriend could’ve made it out. It would have been nice to have her here for the family skate too.” 

That was all it took for the hustling and bustling of the locker room to come to a screeching halt. 

Jack frowned, his hands holding his jersey in his hand that he had just taken off as he glanced around the room. All of the boys were giving him different looks: some concerned, some amused, some confused. It was throwing him off. 

“Uh, what?” 

“You have a girlfriend?” It was Dawson who eventually asked, his brows furrowed together in questioning.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, feeling an odd sense of deja vu from the conversation he had with Luke a few weeks ago. “Geez, I didn’t realise we had to announce stuff like this now.”

“I mean,” Jesper spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re close, yeah? We usually just tell each other these things. You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Don’t bother asking for her name,” Luke grumbled from the other side of the locker room.

“She’s not coming to the family skate?” Nico questioned, focusing the attention back to Jack who simply shrugged.

“She travels a bunch for work,” Jack explained. “Or, at least, for right now. She’s out in Nashville right now so she couldn’t make it.”

“But I thought you were all over that rockstar girl,” Simon spoke up from his stall, leaning back against the cubby, half dressed and legs spread. “Every time I open Twitter, I see it.”

Jack’s cheeks burned. 

Jesper gave him a disapproving look. “Don’t tell me you’ve been commenting on another girl’s instagram when you have a girlfriend. What does she think about it?”

“She likes them!” Jack defended. 

Jesper frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of desperate on instagram,” Simon continued with a snort.

“Well, she hasn’t told me to stop,” Jack huffed.

“Yes, because a rockstar with a couple of million followers would personally reach out to stop you,” Luke drawled, a heavy layer of sarcasm dripping from his words.

“She would, considering she is my girlfriend.”

Once again, the locker room fell silent.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” Luke eventually spoke up, shaking his head. “You really think we believe that you pulled her?” 

Jack frowned. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”

“She’s an international rockstar and you’re just a dude who plays hockey,” Luke retorted. 

“So are you!” 

“Yeah, and I’m not sitting here trying to tell people I’m dating Taylor Swift, am I?”

“This is different,” Jack huffed before looking around the room. “I’m dating her! I really am! We met at that rock bar in Jersey City a couple of months ago and we’ve been chatting ever since.”

The boys all gave each other various looks.

“Fine, don’t believe,” Jack grumbled as he leaned down to start untying his skates. “I know I’m telling the truth. It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.”

For the record, only Jim and Ellen Hughes showed up to the New Jersey Devils’ family skate. 

...

liked by jackhughes and 362,373 others

yourusername east coast, we are coming for you!!❤️🖤

view all 14,737 comments

user i cannot believe the tour is almost over

user NEW MUSIC WHEN

user i'm seeing you in eight days!!!!

user oh my god she is so hot

jackhughes coming back to the better coast❤️🖤

user omg he is copying the hearts too

user he is delusional

user it is the devils colours

user you sound just as delusional as him

...

“So, I’ve been talking to Luke.” 

“Oh great,” Jack grumbled as he sunk further into the pillows of the living room couch.

“And I went on Twitter.”

“You must have been pretty bored to redownload it,” Jack commented, suddenly finding interest in the strings of his hoodie, instead of his brother’s face on the phone screen. He should have known it was odd when Quinn messaged to check he was home alone before he called.

“Jack.” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jack whined as he tried to hide himself deeper into his hoodie. “Whatever Luke told you is bullshit.”

“So you’re not telling people you’re dating an international rock sensation?” 

“Well, I’m not telling everyone,” Jack corrected. “But I am dating her!”

“Uh huh.”

“Not you too,” Jack groaned, throwing his head back and finding his gaze locked on some random part of the ceiling. “Quinn, why would I lie about this?” 

“Because you took a rough hit to the head.”

His head quickly snapped down to glare at his older brother who had the audacity to smirk in response. 

“We’re just worried, Jack. You don’t mention a single thing about talking to her. Then you’re showing up in her comments. And then you’re claiming to date her. All whilst playing and training like normal.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine if you have a little crush or something but—”

“She isn’t just a crush, she’s my girlfriend,” Jack repeated for the umpteenth time. “You’ll see soon.”

Quinn didn’t look awfully convinced  but he knew better than to push Jack on the matter any further. He instead shifted the conversation to a power play from the game before and, thankfully, Jack took the bait. In fact, he was far too busy rambling to even notice Quinn typing out a message straight to Luke. 

quinnifer: ur right 

quinnifer: he’s a fucking lost cause

...

liked by jackhughes and 983,373 others

yourusername tour was a dream but happy to finally come home to you jackhughes ❤️🖤

view all 37,373 comments

jackhughes glad to have my girl home❤️🖤

user WHAT

user a hard launch post tour??? oh she is sick

user i can't believe we lost her to a man

user IS THIS NOT THE HOCKEY DUDE

user omg he actually stood a chance

trevorzegras WHAT THE FUCK

trevorzegras WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

user omg one sings rock and the other plays at the rock

user IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS

lhughes_06 holy shit

_quinnhughes didn't see that one coming

trevorzegras HOW WHAT WHEN WHERE WHY

user i think hockey dude broke his hockey friend

jackhughes he will be fine

trevorzegras NO HE WILL NOT BE FINE

trevorzegras ANSWER YOUR PHONE ROWDY

jackhughes leave me alone, i'm trying to spend time with my girlfriend

yourusername it's true :) very little clothes included

trevorzegras i'm going to go throw myself off a cliff

user what the fuck did i just wake up to

.

[riddleriddles]

ෆ delicate

ෆ matthew riddle x hufflepuff! shy! reader

ෆ summary: the one in which Matthew can’t leave such a beautiful girl crying alone in a dress like that.

ෆ warnings: English translated from google (please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes), alteration of the history of mattheo and tom (tom is not voldemort but an potions teacher like snape).

ෆ notes: i just love shy!reader so much, im sorry if all my one shots are all with shy or hufflepuff reader, IM JUST A GIRL

𖦹

Parties have never really been your favorite way to spend time, loud music and dancing until your feet hurt in the middle of many strangers, not really your tipe of thing.

But a prom was so different, the music was slow, and the dresses, the delicate makeup, even more the winter ball, with the decorations in light shades of blue and white, was a dream.

Especially when you had someone to spend the night, a date, but maybe for lack of popularity, you hadn’t gotten a pair for tonight, your circle of friends was extremely limited, but if you did not have a pair it was not for lack of desire.

Since the prom was announced, you dreamed of being invited by none other than Cedric Digory.

He was tall, kind, sweet, confident, and extremely outgoing, always surrounded by his friends, but you weren’t special for having the attention picked up by Digory, half the girls of your year also dreamed the same thing as you, on being asked to be his date on the romantic night of the winter dance, unfortunately, you and Cedric, although you’ve interacted a few times - just a few little conversations he pulled during class, or little smiles as you passed each other in the hallway - you were very different, he was extremely confident and liked the attention, you did not.

In the little conversations you shared with him, you believed that those glances and those smiles had a greater meaning, maybe you forgot that he was just polite, or you knew but liked to pretend not, because the feeling was good, of being seen, of someone enjoying holding a conversation, and as much as you didn’t talk so much, he liked your words spoken in a low tone of quiet, or you thought he liked it.

the weeks passed and nothing came, not an owl or a letter, not even a flower, so your hopes were lost, as much as you had heard through the corridors that Cedric Digory had no pair and was considering going alone to the winter ball.

…

With only a few minutes left until the beginning of the prom, you were lying on the bed, wet hair tied in a towel with a robe around your body, looking at the ceiling with your hands resting one on top of the other in the region of your chest.

the room smelled like shampoo and the fragrance of the strawberry liquid soap you shared in the bathroom with your roommates.

"Come on, you need to go!" Lizzie, your closest friend, and roommate says excited, you and she used to make plans for a long time about this dance together. "We've been talking about it for so long, just for you to give up because of Cedric?"

She talks to you while tiing her hair delicately in a built-in braid, her yellow dress contrasting with her brown eyes and blonde hair.

"Oh Liz, you don't understand..." you whine "I don't have a pair, you at least go with someone nice."

"If that's the problem, you know I can leave Oliver dancing alone while we dance together." she rolls her eyes playfully and says excitedly, she looks at you through the mirror, you turn your face so that yours looks to meet, you smile softly at her.

"Don't do that." you say and giggles lightly.

You turn your head up again and sigh.

"All right, I’ll go..." You give yourself defeated and hear a lively scream from Liz, sit on the bed with your legs crossed.

She finishes the braid in her hair and finally turns to you looking for approval.

"do i look good?" She asks making an exaggerated pose with her hands on her waist and a smile from ear to ear.

She had a long yellow dress with several details of embroidered white flowers, and her blonde hair was in a single built-in braid with some messy strands giving her a stripped air, a yellow heel on her feet.

You smile at her and answer with a giggle "You look beautiful Liz, I'm sure Oliver will fall in love with you once again!"

Her smile changes to a shy smile and she looks at herself in the mirror again.

"I'm going to ask one of the girls to do my makeup, I hope that when I get back you'll be very ready for us to go!" She says excited and takes her makeup case, it is white with kittens and pink tulips and fits in the palm of her hand.

You suppress a smile with your lips and nod your head agreeing.

As soon as she leaves the dorm you get out of bed and go to the shared vanity, you sit on the wooden chair looking at your reflection in the mirror.

So you did your best to feel beautiful enough to go to the ball, dried your hair, and made a small braid on each side, a white bow holding them together, a light makeup on your face with a little glitter marking your eyes, and some golden accessories.

You get up from the vanity and walk to the full-length mirror that was on the door of the big wardrobe you shared with Lizzie.

The dress was hanging right next to the mirror, she went to her heels it was a shade of pearly white and made all of silk, it was beautiful, and you have been dreaming of it for so long.

You take it by the hanger and gently dress it with you back to the mirror, after fixing your hair and accessories, you turn to the mirror again and the view enchants you, feeling so beautiful, the dress had fallen so well on your body and your makeup, along with the simple hairstyle that made you so delicate.

Soon you hear the door open and turn quickly.

Lizzie gasped with an admired smile on her face and approached you quickly.

"You look won-der-ful!" She holds your hand and makes you do a little spin, a slight blush of shyness arrives on your cheeks while you give a soft giggle.

She releases from your hand and goes to the chair where two purses are hanging, one in a yellow and white tone and the other all white with small details in golden, she takes your lip gloss on top of the vanity and puts it inside the white purse, along with a mascara and a pink lip moisturizer that she puts in the yellow one, Going to you, she extends the white and you take it and put it on your shoulder.

"Let's go... the girls told me that Oliver is already waiting for me downstairs!" She says excited, ready to leave the dorm.

…

The great hall was splendid, in a whole shade of dark blue, the false sky with small and bright stars, the music was lively but still calm, couples were dancing in the center and some other people and groups of friends on the decorated tables.

You entered right behind Oliver and Lizzie, enjoying the place.

You sat at a table together where you shared a small talk to pass the time, as far as you could no longer ignore the passionate looks that Olive sent to her best friend and decided to leave them alone for a few minutes.

"I'm going to get something to drink, I'll be right back..." you asked excuse me getting up from the table with a gentle smile on her lips, Liz reciprocated shyly before giving all her attention to the brunette next to her.

Following up to a large table that was full of appetizers and different types of drinks, you took a red plastic cup and filled it with strawberry punch, from afar you could see Lizzie and olive sharing laughter, so you decided it was better to stay there for a while.

you got distracted looking down at your fingers while playing with the golden rings there, so distracted that you didn’t hear or notice when a tall brown boy came up to your side.

"Hey! you here!" Cedric said excitedly coming to your side with a little tap on your shoulder.

your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden presence of the boy, you turned to him with a small glance at his hand on your shoulder, visibly shy.

your heart began to beat faster in your chest and suddenly your throat was dry and your head could not find words to answer the boy with such beautiful eyes.

"Cedric... hi" you were louder than usual on account of the music playing, a small smile on your lips.

"You look good." he says in a charming tone approaching you, he passes by your side as he approaches the table behind you.

your cheeks are flushed with the comment and you don't know how to answer so you just chuckle shyly and admire him as he looks at the table.

"Thank you." you wanted to say that he looked good too but the words don’t seem to want to leave your mouth.

He serves himself in a red plastic cup just like yours, you watch him as he takes a gray canteen out of his suit pocket and baptizes the drink in the cup, you look at him and he seems not to notice, you look away at the couples dancing in the center of the Great hall.

He leans against your side, an arm leaning on the table behind your back without touching you, you suppress your lips, nervous with his proximity, playing with your rings again you swear you can feel your heart almost jumping from your chest.

He lifts the canteen as if offering you some of the whiskey he kept in his suit.

"Do you drink?" he asks with a gentle smile as if asking a casual question.

you look around nervous to see if any teacher is looking at you, which fortunately is not.

"No, but thank you." you gently refuse with a shy smile, he nods and hides the canteen on his suit again.

Now it’s his turn to watch the couples dancing in the center of the prom, a huge jealousy hitting his chest as he sees Cho Chang dancing in the arms of another boy.

You don’t follow his gaze, still playing your rings, the silence starts to bother you when he suddenly catches your hand, you look at him surprised, kinda bothered by the sudden touch.

"Do you want to dance?" he asks with an almost nervous smile.

suddenly you were speechless again, he wanted to dance? with you?

you nodded looking a little bit more lively, a big smile popping up on your lips.

was playing a song you didn’t know as Cedric took you to the center of the Great Hall, his hand resting on your waist.

you danced in a funny sync, but for you, everything seemed perfect. At least until you realize that Cedric wasn’t even paying attention to you.

you exclaimed softly in pain as he stepped on a finger as you danced, stopping for a few seconds.

He suddenly takes his eyes off something he was staring at behind you and looks at you surprised, then gives a little look at your foot, realizing his mistake.

"Oh, sorry, really sorry, I swear I’m not that bad normally" he apologizes with a nervous expression.

You can only nod your head and agree with a fake smile realizing that he doesn’t even care to look at you while apologizing, you follow his gaze and find none other than Cho Chang dancing and laughing with some other Corvinal boy.

You look away before he notices, and look down at your feet, gathering the courage to give an excuse to leave, he seems to notice.

"hey... you all right?" he asks with a gentle little smile and pretending to be worried.

So you look up at him, and you realize that he wasn’t trying to hurt you, of course, it was a little rude to treat you as a second choice, but it wasn’t his fault if he didn’t have feelings for you.

You sigh quietly “im sorry, cedric, i gotta go”

You don’t wait for an answer and get rid of his arms without looking at him because you know if he asks looking in your eyes you would stay.

Passing the couples dancing together you run a firm step out of the Great Hall, hoping to be alone for a while.

The thought of coming to the prom alone was beginning to look pathetic in your head, you should have stayed in your dorm.

you pass through the corridor of the stairs and follow to the courtyard, a bubble of anguish forming in your throat, along with the burning in the tip of your nose, indicating the will to cry.

You always used to cry for silly things, as simple as they were, like the end of a romantic book, or a sad movie, sometimes happiness, sometimes anger.

Now you felt pathetic, for not having a pair and having been made second choice, a mixture of sadness and upset formed the tears in the corner of your eyes.

You leaned on the stone wall, your hands covering your eyes to prevent more tears from falling.

the sound of you back on the stone wall catches Matthew attention, he looks back and would not have noticed that you were crying if not for the hand in your eyes, you sobbed silently.

He lets the cigarette smoke out of his mouth still holding it between his lips if he mentally asks if he should ask you what was happening or should sneak out while you hadn’t noticed his presence.

He analyzes your whole body, from the white Maryjane on your feet to the jewelry you wore on your neck, before sighing softly and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, his night was so boring that he needed a distraction.

Matthew also did not have a prom date, but not for lack of choice, nor would he come to this dance considered ridiculous in his vision, refused one or two dates saying that he would not attend, unfortunately, Lorenzo, one of his best friends, convinced him to stay at least a few minutes before disappearing with his escort, Matthew tired of being alone decided to go out to smoke without being caught by some of the teachers, he planned to finish and climb back to his dorm.

His plans were ruined.

You feel the smell of cigarettes and the presence next to you and take your hand out of your eyes to look at Matthew next to you, your cheeks red by crying, and now the shame of being caught crying, matching with the tip of your nose also reddish and your eyes glowing with tears.

He looks at you and then realizes why your dress is white, was to match your angelic appearance, he notes mentally to thank Lorenzo later for forcing him to come.

"hi." he whispers with a neutral expression, not so serious but also not smiling.

"Hi?" you whisper, yet come out as a question.

You wipe the corner of your eyes, looking elsewhere than him, still ashamed of being caught crying over something so silly.

"Why aren’t you at the prom?" he asks as if you’re not crying, without asking your name as if you already know each other.

Uncertain of what to say, because you did not want to open up to a stranger, especially when the unknown was the son of the frightening professor of potions, Tom Riddle.

"I... found it boring." you whisper shyly, your hands playing with the heart pendant of your necklace.

"so boring that it made you want to cry? what a coincidence, me too, I just wiped my tears." he says with a serious tone but visibly joking.

You let out a giggle realizing that he took your lie, forgetting what had just happened.

"All right, it’s just a silly motive."

"Will you tell me you don’t have someone to dance with?" he asks with a giggle as if he’s joking.

"I haven’t." Your smile falls and you look at your own feet.

He tilts his head to look at your face, not believing that someone so beautiful and dressed so well is crying for not having someone to dance with.

"you’re lying."

"I’m not." you whisper uncertainly and he giggles out of disbelief.

After a few seconds in silence, he puts the cigarette in his mouth again, and from a puff, you watch as he releases the smoke between his lips and takes the cigarette out of his mouth again.

The cold began to bother you, your hands rose and your arms crossed above your chest in search of heat, he notices and comes a little closer, not so much not to scare you.

"Was it someone who made you cry?" he asks quietly, alternating between looking at you and the cigarette on his fingers.

"yes."

"your boyfriend?"

"No." you reply, feeling foolish again, for crying over a boy who isn’t even your boyfriend. "It’s silly."

He stares at you as he leans his head against a stone wall, your eyes still sparkling from tears as you look at your shoe, he notes that the tears lightly blurred your mascara.

He lifts his fingers to the tip of your eyes and passes his thumb over the stain carefully, you look at him uncertain with the proximity, your cheeks turning pink again, and he smiles noticing you blushing with the touch.

"was stained" he clarifies

"with mascara?" he nods agreeing, the cold starting to bother him too.

"Don’t you want to come in? It’s getting cold in here, and you’re out of coat." He whispers, putting his cigarette out on the wall behind him, before throwing it on the floor, wet from the rain earlier.

"I think I’ll go back to my dorm." you whisper letting your hands slip to the side of your body.

"Oh no you can’t leave," he says quickly, thinking of some reason to make you stay, not knowing that you didn’t need much because you hadn’t yet learned to say no, as much as it was someone unknown.

"I can’t?" you ask confused

"No... because... I wanted you to dance with me." he says at once without thinking, dancing? he didn’t dance, what had gone through his head?

His voice comes out neutral but he curses himself mentally, he did not want you to leave but he also did not want to dance.

"Do you want to dance with me?" you blush and suppress a smirk, he sighs without knowing how to answer.

"Yes." No, he doesn’t.

you smile with the words that come out of his lips.

Ok, maybe he wants, just a little.

"Okay." you smile shyly, looking at him slightly flushed, he looks between your glossy lips and your eyes shining.

He accompanies you to the Great hall again, making silly comments to keep you distracted, you thank him mentally.

"I don’t have a pair either, nor is it that bad right?" he says as you arrive.

"not much" you respond softly

a song ends when you arrive, and one of your favorite songs starts playing.

You take a deep breath and your smile increases, you start to think that the universe was trying to make you sad just to make you happy again.

Matthew has his hand on your waist while guiding you to the center of the Great Hall, which did not have as many couples as before, Fade Into You played in the background while the lights changed to a dark blue tone.

Your chests were glued and you were smaller than him, he can smell the floral smell of your shampoo, and then he takes a deep breath discreetly to feel it better.

You look up at him shyly, not knowing what to say to end the silence.

I wanna hold the hand Inside you

you whisper something quietly to him

I wanna take the breath thats true

"Sorry, I didn’t catch that" he whispers so just you can hear and bends down a little to hear you better, your bodies still dancing in sync truly perfect.

I look to you and i see nothing

you stand on tiptoe, your hand on his shoulder as you say in his ear "Thank you" It is still low but he could hear why you said it in his ear this time.

i look to you to see the truth

He had no idea what you were thanking him for, and neither did you.

You live your life, you go in shadows

"oh no, I should thank you." He whispers back to you, he talks louder, and he doesn’t have to say it in your ear, but he does it anyway.

You’ll come apart and you'll go blind

you shiver with his hoarse voice in your ear as he smiles at your reaction, realizing that maybe he likes to see you blush, even if the blue light is in the way.

Some kind of night into your darkness

he leaves a kiss on your neck next to your ear before he looks up again, his action making your heart race, you had never received this much attention from some boy.

Colors your eyes with what is not there

you smile shyly and he reciprocates before looking up around, you lower your head, and lean on his shoulder, while your bodies dance slowly, his hand that was previously intertwined with yours loose and goes down to your waist, his hand that was once intertwined with yours loose and descends to your waist, his arms hold you there, on his chest, your own hands follow his movements and climb to his neck, the silence began to get comfortable.

Fade into you

Stranger, you never knew

Fade into you

[amomentsescape]

hello! Are you ok?, I hope so ❤️ (by the way, your writing is wonderful)

I would like to make a request for Yandere Slashers with an S/O who is a mermaid, who usually kills people who dare to invade her lakes, and she kills these people by drowning.

(I'm sorry if there are any writing errors, English is not my first language, and I'm writing this using Google translate)

Slashers with Mermaid! Reader

Yandere! Slashers x Reader

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

A/N: I'm doing good, thank you <3 I hope you enjoy! (Also, I decided I'm going to remove Lester from the Slasher requests. I'm still very much open to writing for him when specified, but I feel like he doesn't quite fit in with all the other Slashers).

Freddy Krueger

Meeting you was quite literally the best thing to ever happen in his undead life

He likes to team up with you, constantly coming up with different ways you both can contribute to someone's death

You pull them under, and they suddenly wake up in Freddy's world

Your dynamic is pretty ideal too

Whenever you sleep, you can visit him

And he has no issues with popping into your waters just to say hi

He does this quite often, in fact

He is very aware you can take care of yourself, but he still gets worried

You're his

He doesn't trust anyone being around you

Even if your only intention is to kill them immediately

He understands that where you are now is your home, but that won't stop him from doing whatever he can to have you live in his world

He can create the perfect environment for you

Miles and miles of nothing but water if your heart desires

Which hopefully it does

Since he isn't willing to wait much longer

Michael Myers

He never thought creatures like you actually existed

But the moment he saw your strength and darkness, he was immediately drawn in against his better judgment

He visits more often then you think

He's always around, watching

You can feel eyes on you almost 90% of the day, but you never really know where it's coming from

He enjoys watching you swim and just relax

But he especially loves seeing you drag poor souls into the tide with you

There's something so twisted and yet magical about watching you kill

But this fascination is also paired with extreme jealousy

He hates seeing you touch other people

And he almost envies the way they get to be so close to you, even if it means their demise

He hopes to find a way to take you home with him for good one of these times

You told him you loved him, so you'd be happy as long as you're by his side

Right?

Jason Voorhees

Out of all places to meet the love of your life, this one seemed especially unfortunate for Jason

But his feelings for you were strong enough to overrule his fear

He'll sit by the shore with you, hearing you talk and sing old tunes he's never heard before

He loves listening to your stories about the world underneath the current

But this always leaves him with such a deep feeling of sadness

He wants a life where you both can live together and share those memories

But he knows that's nearly impossible

He starts spending more time by the water side than the camp, finding that irresponsible teens like to be by the beach even more than the forest

You lure them in with your beauty and your words, and Jason finishes the job

He'll let you kill too if you really wish to, but he doesn't like the idea of those types of people being so close to you

He barely gets to touch you, so why should they get what he so desperately wants instead?

Thomas Hewitt

In this desert like area of Texas, Thomas has to travel quite far to see you

But the one time he accidentally stumbled upon you, he was smitten

And you surprisingly didn't turn him into another victim like all the others

He was kind to you

And now, he brings you food and stops by as often as he possibly can

You've made him little necklaces out of bones and shells

He wears every single one of them

Your bond only gets stronger each time he comes to see you

But Thomas can only take so much

Why can't you be closer?

He knows the family would love you

And he could make you so happy

His bathtub is big enough for you, he's sure of it

He knows that you won't want to leave your own home for his, but he loves you and knows what will be best for you

He's just got to be patient

Bubba Sawyer

His own family had to go on a search for him after he disappeared for a couple days

But he just couldn't help it

You make him so happy, and the more time he spent with you, the more difficult it became to leave your side

He's tried to jump in a few times to be with you, but you always persuade him out of it

He doesn't know how to swim, and you don't want him to end up like everyone else

That's when he decided that the best option would be to create your very own pond in his backyard!

That way, you could be with each other, and he would never have to say goodbye again

He hasn't told you this idea yet, but he's sure you'd be happy with it

This would also keep you from needing to kill anyone else

You're too beautiful to get your hands dirty

And it's unfair that they get to join you in the water when you won't let him do the same

He can make you super happy with his family, he's sure of it

Brahms Heelshire

He hates this dynamic between you two

He wants you at home with him so you can take care of him, and he can keep you away from everyone else

No one should get to touch you or look at you besides him

He's actually tried to drag you out of the water before, but the prospect of accidentally killing you was enough to make him stop

He never knew he could envy a body of water as much as he does

It gets to hold you, touch you, and be with you at all times

He wants that too, so desperately

Because of you, he's gone from house dweller to nature enthusiast in just a matter of days

Even when you think he's at home, he's stalking around, watching you

He insists it's to keep you safe

In fact, you haven't had to drown anyone in quite a while

And you can thank Brahms for that

The moment he sees a single soul in the area, he drags them off and disposes of them before you even have a chance to see them

He wouldn't dare let you touch another being that isn't him

Norman Bates

It honestly took him a really long time to believe that you were even real

He didn't think mermaids or sirens actually existed, so seeing you for the first time made him pinch himself to make sure this wasn't some weird dream

He also took a while to trust you since he didn't want to fall victim to your treacherous waters

But once he realized you were genuine, he dove straight in all at once

He visits you whenever he can for however long he can muster

Someone needs to run the motel, but God he wishes he could be with you 24/7

He's "jokingly" brought up the idea of you staying at the motel in a pool he could install for you

He just wants to keep an eye on you at all times

He constantly dreams of finding a way to make you human so you two can truly be together

Until you have two feet like him, it will never be enough

Billy Loomis

Doesn't tell a single soul about you

Not even Stu

And it's not because he's embarrassed or wants to see other people

He's honestly just scared that others will either think he's insane or try to capture you

Visits you every day and makes sure to pack his swim trunks so he can join you in the water

Constantly admires you and wants to run his hands along your scales

He just thinks you're all around incredible

But he has this hidden level of anger towards the situation

He wants to walk around town with you, show you off

He wants you to join him on his sprees so you can see just how powerful he can be

And he hates the idea of not having eyes on you at all times

He knows you kill anyone who isn't him, but he doesn't want you getting that close to anyone in general

He spends his nights studying ways to get you to live with him

He'll find a way to have you all to himself, even if it ends up being the death of him

Stu Macher

He actually first met you while you were seducing some poor soul to their death

And Stu was immediately enamored

He comes to see you whenever he can

He sometimes spends the weekend camping out along the shore just so he can spend more time with you

He thinks you're beautiful of course, but he can't help but fantasize what it would be like if you were human like him

You two come from very different worlds, but there's nothing that could keep you away from him

He likes to bring up the idea of mermaids and mythical creatures in casual conversations with people

How they react to it will determine whether they make his hit list

He likes to bring you jewelry and pretty objects from his victims, showing you items that you've never seen before

He talks about how one of these days, he's going to have a house built on the shore so he can be with you

And if you argue against it, he will shut down

The pent up frustration of not getting to sleep next to you every night makes his killings more brutal and his fantasies all the more darker

Vincent Sinclair

Every time he comes to see you, he brings a new portrait or wax figure of you that he made

You flood his dreams and his mind 24/7

He honestly thinks he's under some sort of spell

He doesn't mind that you aren't human like him

He's always felt very different from everyone else, so it's nice for him to have someone he relates to

But his jealousy constantly gets the better of him

Anytime you tell him of some poor soul you drowned, he can't help but feel his blood boil

Even if it ends in their death, he hates the idea of you flirting or seducing these people

The only one who should be receiving that attention is him

Barely sleeps at night

He has snuck to the shore countless time without your knowledge, just watching you and making sure your stories line up with what he observes

Is overall obsessed even more than you know

Bo Sinclair

If anyone saw you together, it would be enough to make them blush

The way you two can constantly flirt back and forth without any hesitation is otherworldly

You could have sworn he must have been a creature like you in a past life

He's so touchy when he's with you, not afraid to get his clothes wet in an effort to just be closer to you

He truly makes you feel accepted as you are and with where you live

But little do you know of his darker nature

He stalks the shore and kills off anyone that trespasses before you even have a chance to get to them

He doesn't need you looking at anyone but him

And he's already been renovating an old abandoned pool in Ambrose for you

You're going to finally be living with him like he's always wanted

You don't know this yet, but he's sure you'll be happy with the idea

It will be a great surprise

[dyinggirldied]

The Writing on Walls

The world's gone buzzing after words, written in English and have the green slimy texture of undefinable origins, appear all over surfaces of walls available. The handwriting is the same so it is correctly assumed to be the same person scribbling. They are huge and easy to spot.

Recording devices have been set to see if they can catch the culprit initially but it soon proves futile when the words just basically come into existence.

Still, the content can be weird but entertaining at the best of times but downright disturbing at worst. For example:

The dead has overtaken my town and I'm a part of it

The fruit loop is doing it again

Does it matter if it's meat or veggies? The vultures are ghosts

Orange is life, orange is unrhymable

If there's a will, there is the fruit loop that doesn't understand the basic of boundaries and respects

Boxes. Nothing but the goddamn boxes.

Why is he so obsessed with my pelt? Can't he just call it skin like normal beings?

Cujo has ruined V's life. What am I going to do? I can't fix this

Don't say wish. Erase soon please

Frankly, I don't give a damn

She's taking our life forces

There's a dead kid in our locker

The odds are never in our favors

They are hunting me

The Justice League's currently overwhelmed with demands from the public to investigate this.

Or: Danny uses his ectoplasm or he finds a magical pen (depend on you I'm beat) to express his frustration and occasionally intrusive thoughts on abandoned walls or anything he can write on. Unfortunately, he isn't aware that his 'diary', which conveniently disappear the second he finishes, is travelling to another dimension(s).

He is careful though to not reveal any information, even his enemies. He slips in references from pop cultures that coincidentally don't exist in other worlds.