#premarital course

[drdarienzo]

How to Pinpoint a Narcissist

Take our $14.97 premarital course and save money on your Florida license and avoid the three day wait! We here at D’Arienzo Psychology are excited to help you take this next step toward marital happiness and success, and want to help deepen your relationship with your future spouse. Keep reading for tips and Dr. D’Arienzo’s tips on How to Pinpoint a Narcissist: How can a narcissist be…

[onthejadedjournal]

that is all the non celibacy talk for today you'll never get more of it because im a GOOD MOM ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[aberrantmind]

STATUS UPDATE: had a dream where i hugged someone

[volturissideslut]

shy reader holds remus' hand for the first time in public

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖚𝖘 𝕷𝖚𝖕𝖎𝖓

I took this prompt and i ran with it, enjoyyy!!!

Though you and Remus had been together for a while now - not long having passed that awkward and clunky talking stage - you still hadn't really been physically affectionate with one another. No sex, no kisses, no cuddles, and not even daring to engage in premarital hand holding.

It's not that you didn't want to. You did. You really really did. But every time you wanted to you were left unsure if it was okay to do that. Seeds of self doubt planted themselves in your mind and the longer you let them fester the more they weeded your thoughts. It honestly got to a tiring point, where if the thought of being affectionate with him made your hands clammy and your mind race, heat creeping its way up your neck. And obviously you didn't want him to feel like he had to hold your clammy sweaty hands, it's just... icky.

To put it simply, you had built it all up in your head and it desperately needed to be pulled down from that pedestal.

So now here you were, in the library with Remus, your lovely boyfriend, wondering if it would be okay to hold his hand. He was slouched over (in a posture that was definitely not good for his spinal health in the future) with one hand holding the hard back on the book, and the other lazily resting on the table. Resting mere millimetres from your own hand.

Unconsciously, your hand twitched, like when your body is so filled with emotion and just has to move. Like when you're angry and your jaw and fists clench. Like when you're excited and your hands shake and move and you talk. Like when you're anxious and your leg bounces. Like when you really want to be touching your boyfriend but don't know how to go about it, and your hand twitches.

One slight problem, your hand was so so close to his already that he thought you had tapped him and had put down his book to give you his full attention. And with that adorable small smile of his on his face too.

"You okay, Dove?"

... I mean, it's now or never right?

"Yeah - uhm - Rem, can I please hold your hand?" Why does your throat feel so dry? You had just had a nice cup of tea with him, and now its like you're parched all over again.

And while he notices your rising anxiety and shyness, he pays no mind to it for now. Instead his smile grows wide and smug, eyebrows raised in surprise. But his expression quickly returns to its normal state and his voice is smooth as he speaks, though it doesn't to much to hide his own light blush.

"Of course you can, Dovey"

Like the gentleman he is, he doesn't make too much of a show of it, already knowing the inner turmoil in your mind right now. Instead, he laces his fingers with yours and gives one firm reassuring squeeze and picks up his book. He also gives another squeeze when he feels you tense up and watch someone walk past your little corner of the library, a proud smile hidden behind his book as he physically feels your body relax because of his touch.

But now you know in your head that its okay. Hand holding officially being removed from the pedestal. And he can't even tell your hands are clammy, because his are too.

[testrella]

you're my religion priest! s. geto x f!reader pt.1→pt.2

synopsis: y/n moved into a small and tight knit town to take care of her elderly grandmother. what happens when she attends a sermon with her grandmother, and finds herself lusting over someone she cannot have.

fandom: jujutsu kaisen ⌗ priest suguru geto x female reader⌗ modern au content warnings: mild cursing, smut, head (giving), religious themes(?), slight degrading at the end, angst(?) public sex, NSFW.

author's note: over 11k words, u guys have fun

“..in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit. amen.”

father geto finishes off the sermon with the routine prayer. he takes the opportunity being on stage to scan the loyal audience. it was the regular, older people he preaches to. the same people who boast about him being so devoted to God at such a young age. how that when they were his age, they were off sinning. he thinks about the constant praises about being a young devoted follower, but it immediately stops when he sees her. 

a young lady, who seemed to be around the same age as him, sitting in the very back with an elderly woman. even though she was dressed as modestly as possible, the black floor length dress immersed your body in all the right places.

when did he allow his immoral thoughts come to mind

 “oh father! you must meet mrs. johnson’s granddaughter- maybe you can convince her to turn to God.” an elder of the church whispered to the priest. she gently pulled him to the side, off of the stage. 

“as you must have heard by now, edith’s grandbaby is out of control. rumor has it that she’s been caught using multiple different contraband, and premarital sex! can you believe edith would allow this to go on for so long?!”

geto mentally sighs, gossiping was always an issue at church. especially since it was located in a very small town, there wasn't much to talk about. when you were new to town, the locals went wild. fabricating very detail of your life, and spouting that nonsense through their teeth.

“with respect dear mary, the scripture speaks strongly against gossip. i’ll talk to the young lady, but please watch yourself. for there is no greater sin than sin.”

she nods while looking down, unable to meet geto’s gaze. too embarrassed to voice her concern furthermore, she mutters “yes father, please forgive me.”

“i am not the one you should be asking for forgiveness, ask the man above. now if you’ll excuse me, i’ll introduce myself to the newest member of our church.” he smiles gracefully before making his way towards mrs. johnson and her ‘scandalous’ granddaughter. 

he takes small steps towards you, puffing his chest out as he walks with a sense of pride. sure you were a pretty girl, but he was only interested to guide you through your religious journey. 

“father geto, i introduce you to my granddaughter. this is y/n. she’s only 20, and she recently moved into town to take care of me. isn’t she the kindest?”

he loses his train of thought. he's unable to bring himself to utter a single word. you were much more gorgeous up-close. if he were to describe your beauty, he’d be too overwhelmed, and wouldn’t know where to start. maybe he’d start with the way your nose fits your face perfectly. or, how your smile molded perfectly with your faint smile lines. 

geto snaps out of his trance, and quickly introduces himself. 

“i’m father geto. welcome to this church, i hope your stay has been great so far.” he purred. 

you squint your eyes at him. almost as if you already knew the rumors going around. nonetheless, you shake his hand. 

“like my grandma said, i’m y/n. i do hope we cross paths alone in the future.”

he blushes from the way you shaked his hand, but also put your other hand on his. solidifying the handshake more than it needed too. not only that, the last comment you made. crossing paths.. alone?

“my confessional booth is always open before my sermon, and at 9 PM on sundays. if that’s what you mean of course.” 

you puff your chest out and let out a dramatic sigh. taking in your arms, and letting them rest to your side, you open your mouth to speak. he stares at your lips, refusing to make eye contact.

“the sermon did end, i guess i’ll have to see you later tonight.” you assured him before walking over to your grandmother who made conversation with someone else. he watched you walk away, allowing himself to sneak a peek from behind. 

later that day, geto was having lunch. he finds himself unable to focus on his best friend's story, the words going in one ear and out the other. all the plays in his mind is you, and what you could possibly up to.

“satoru, i think i was seduced today after my sermon.” he spilled out, no longer able to contain his thoughts. 

“gross! how old was she? 50? 69? HA, get it? 69?” 

geto rolls his eyes at the blue eyed ‘man’ who acted immaturely any chance he got. maybe he really should have kept his thoughts to himself. it was better than trying to converse it with an actual man-child.

“goodness satoru, no. she was a few years younger than me. 4 years to be exact. she’s one of the elder’s granddaughter, and the way she spoke to me made me feel like i was sinning. i didn’t even do anything!”

“well..”

his eyebrow quirks as satoru began his sentence. 

“did she have big tits?” 

geto’s face quickly turned from curiosity to disgust. he abruptly stood up from the table, placing both hands on it for support, and got all up in satoru’s face.

“how could you ever speak so unashamedly about a lady like that?! let alone speak like that in front of a priest!”

“well forgive me father, i didn’t mean to offend you and your girlfriend,” satoru said sarcastically while putting his hands up defensively. “i’ve said worse, and you’ve never had a problem with it until now. she must’ve had big tits for you to go all preacher mode on me.“  

as much as geto didn’t want to admit it, satoru was right. there were many time's geto allowed the white haired man to say the most diabolical stuff known to man. even listening when satoru would describe women’s bodies in detail and occasionally his one night stands. why was this any different?

“excuse me, is that you father?” 

there is was.

the seductive voice he met only hours ago. both boys slowly turn their heads to the h/c girl standing right in front of them. their eyes met with the beauty talked about earlier. only now you were wearing a shorter version of the dress you wore earlier. 

“m-miss. y/n? i’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. what brings you here?” 

you only acknowledge one of the two men in front of her, and of course it was geto. your eyes met his, and never shifted away. it was almost like a dance of temptation, daring him to do further than just eye contact. the dark aura coming from you was overwhelming him, or maybe it was just your strong perfume. 

“i apologize for the disruption, father geto. my grandma asked me to run some errands. i guess i’ll have to speak with you later tonight.“ 

before geto could get a word in, you once again walk off. just like before, he once again glances down there. 

forgive me Lord, for i have sinned. 

“dude what the fuck was that..” the white haired man questioned. he also noticed the thick tension that was stirred by non other than you.

“i d-don’t know. i cannot see her tonight. i’m scared she might tempt me into.. into doing something that’s against the scripture.”

he now finds himself in the confessional booth, anxiously waiting for your arrival. it was currently 9:47 PM, you were late. it did not help his anxiety at all. he’d give you until 10:15 for you to arrive. anything later would have to just be scheduled on another sunday. 

he lets out a deep breath before he hears the clattering of heels. geto takes a peak out of his curtain only to be met with a sultry gaze. he quickly closes off his curtain, and subconsciously wipes his sweaty palms on his lap. this was like any other confessional, there was nothing to be conspicuous. 

“father geto? are you there?“ you ask in a voice just above a whisper. 

geto swallows whatever was in his mouth before speaking.

 “of course i am.“ 

“ahem, forgive me father. i have sinned since i first moved into this town. actually, i sinned today after the sermon.“ 

he stays silent. he’s tempted to ask what you’ve done, and if it possibly had something to do with him. but you answer his unspoken questions before he can think about it for too long.

“before moving into this lovely town, my grandmother sent me a picture of her priest. goodness, i didn’t know what to do with myself.“ 

he was determined to stay stoic, and not to speak unless it was to say a prayer. but her hushed voice and the strong tension made it difficult. the air seemed to thicken every time she finished a sentence. geto couldn’t escape your magnetic pull of lust.

“a-and if i may ask, what did you do to deal with your problem?”

“i couldn’t resist myself. after i saw the photo of him, i began to have lewd thoughts. every night leading up to my departure, i’d touch myself thinking about him. then..”

she lets out a small moan, but geto would describe it as a small whine. now he was breathing heavily as his boxers started to tighten up. there was no way he could get hard in the church. it was sinful. but he was here to help you, and allowed you to continue.

“i met him today. after the sermon i started using objects to make myself feel satisfied. but it was nothing compared to his large hands shaking my hand. i can only imagine him using his hands going inside of me instead of holding a bible. even now, i cannot resist his voice..” you confessed as heavy breathing came from your end. 

“..come over to my side dear. let me help you.” he whispered.

you waste no time he notes from the sounds coming from the other side. your heels clacked once or twice before you pulled the curtain from his side. 

he studies your face very carefully. there was a light red tint spreading across your cheeks, and your ears were bright red. his eyes then wander down to your very revealing shirt that showed a lot of cleavage. the shirt was accompanied by a matching skirt, a very, VERY, short skirt.

you walk into the tight fitting booth. before he can get his hands on you, you kneel down in between his legs. your pretty little head lays on his left thigh.

“forgive me father. how can i ever make you forgive me for my sins?” you lift your head and your hands start to wander on the edge of his pants. “tell me father, there must be a way..”

geto feels a bead of sweat going down his forehead. there were many times that grandparents introduced their grandchildren to him, in hopes they get married. or, when satoru would convince him to agree to a blind date. his answer of rejection was always the same. 

‘i am devoted to the man above, i musn’t be distracted.’ 

where was his reasoning of rejection when he watches you pull both his pants and undergarments off? 

you grab his dick and painfully slowly lick the tip of it. leaving any pre-cum on his tip, now in your mouth. a slight moan leaves his mouth. this was a pleasure that he’s never experienced before. devoting all 24 years of his life to God has never brought this much fulfilment. 

where was his reasoning of rejection when you put his whole dick in your mouth without any hesitation?

your sudden move of deep throating him caught him off guard. he’s now holding your head in a gentle manner, as gentle as he can be. geto is lost at words, he can only moan uncontrollably while playing with your hair. the only thing he can fixate his eyes on was your beautiful hair getting tangled into his fingers. 

where was his reasoning when you made him finish in under five minutes even though it felt like an eternity for him?

you continue to suck him off, hollowing your cheeks for a better suction. your hands wander down to his balls, giving it a small massage. you're not sure what you did right, but it worked. geto was now praising your name instead of the lord’s. he feels an unfamiliar knot unwinding itself. 

“y/n.. please i feel..” he lets out a breathy moan instead of finishing his sentence. his eyes shut close to full enjoy the euphoric feeling. why did he want to reject your advances in the first place? he can't seem to remember. 

“father..” you cooed while taking off his shirt. of course, the hot pastor with a big dick was also very nicely built.

“oh geto, why do you hide this from me?”

your hands wander his chest then it starts to follow his happy trail. your movement was haltered when he reached out for your chest.

“the same could be said for yourself. show yourself to me, please. i beg.”

his eyes looked like a puppy who had been kicked. there was no sane woman in the world who would say no to his violet eyes. your hand then reaches out for his, and then place his hand on the hem of your shirt.

“take it off for me, father geto.”

being enchanted with your hypnotic gaze, it drew him like a moth to a flame. he lifted your shirt, taking your bra off as well, and stared with admiration. you had an art of seduction that was compared to no other. he watches you sit on his lap as you lift your skirt. 

this is sin. he was sinning. 

but he didn’t stop you as you sat slowly onto his dick, moaning in joy. he watches you go up and down painfully slow.

“c-can you go a little faster..?“ he moaned into your ear. being too embarrassed by his request, he buries himself on the side of your neck. taking in your scent, leaving small pecks on the spots you sprayed perfume. 

“you’re t-too big geto~” you whined into his ear before you attached your lips onto his. 

he was an inexperienced kisser. an inexperienced everything actually. it was easy for you to take the lead by biting onto his bottom lip. he opened his mouth to let out a small whine of pain and you took the opportunity to slip your tongue in. 

you feel yourself juices slide down your thigh onto geto’s lap as you continue to bounce on his dick. large hands start groping your ass, giving you a smack on one of your cheeks. you yelp in response. it was unexpected from a priest.

“father, use me. be as rough as you want with me.” your hands start undoing his bun, turning his hair into a disheveled mess. 

“i-i shouldn't be so mmm- rough on you.” 

you felt honored by his insistence on being so gentle. his grip on your waist tells you a different story. it was obvious he wanted to go faster than the pace you set.

“please geto, for me at least.”

oh, how could he ever deny your requests? 

his grip on your waist tightens as he lifts you up and rams into you. all pent up sexual frustrations he’s ever had in the past 24 years are being taken out on you. throughout the heavens and earth, you were his only sole purpose in life. the way you took him in so good without any complaints was proof enough. 

marks form on his shoulder and back from the scratches you were leaving. it was the only way you could hold yourself up. if not, you’d fall right into his arms while he’d continue to show no mercy on your pussy. 

geto was starting to feel what he felt earlier when you were in between his legs. his eyes gaze at yours, and gets a site he’d never unsee. small tears started forming, threatening to leave your eyes. your mouth agape as one hand held onto his shoulder, the other groping yourself.

“father geto, i-i’m ahh, i’m so close~”

on sync, the both of you came at the very same time.

geto found it more ironic than disgust when he saw the scene unfold. priest of six years, never had a temptation once in those six years. his lap was now covered in cum from not only his but the new girl in town. the new girl who easily seduced him

“forgive us lord, for the father and i have sinned.” you purred right into his ear, almost biting it. 

he massages your waist before finally putting you on your two feet. you're barely able to stand up without the support of the wall.

"y/n, we can never do this again. never speak to me unless it's about my sermon."

now it was his turn to leave before you could get a word in. he pulls his pants up and swiftly puts his shirt back on.

"you were sent by the devil, and i've failed my lord. stay far away from me you whore."

[milliesdiary]

What if you are Jace's sister and he realizes you are in love with Aemond (and he also finds out that you two have been having premarital sex) which causes a fight so you go to Aemond for comfort and he soothes you

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐖

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; princess!reader, targcest, mentions of sex. for some context: reader is daemon’s bastard child who rhaenyra welcomed as a part of the family. yes, aemond is a hypocrite :/ we still love him tho!! 

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; ngl this has been sitting in my drafts for awhile because i hate it. im going to be working on commissions for a bit though, so i decided to post it anyway to keep you guys fed :) please reblog and comment with your feedback. it means the world to me and keeps me motivated! ♡

"𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃."

Those were Jace’s words the second you walked into the dining room for breakfast. They take you aback, shock you into a frozen stupor. 

You and your family have been in King’s Landing for the past few weeks, trying to set aside their differences with the Greens and do their best to reconcile. It has been rough for your younger brothers, though you have been having a brilliant time. 

You and Helaena spend plenty of time together, Alicent treats you kindly, and Aegon leaves you alone. And Aemond? Well... you and Aemond are closer than most in terms of relationships. 

But that’s a story for another day. 

No one else is in the room thankfully — Luke wakes up later in the day, Helaena is presumably outside catching bugs, and your mother is probably off at a meeting with the court — so it’s just you, your younger brother, and the few servants that set the table. 

“What?”

Jace gives you an unimpressed look; his chestnut-brown eyes are slightly narrowed, lips melded into a frown. “You love Aemond,” he repeats. 

Your heart nearly stops when he says it, and you’re instantly terrified you’ve been caught. It would appear that misfortune has a tendency of catching you off guard. You honestly don’t know what to say. 

“...That is quite an accusation,” you try to deadpan. That heated expression of his is chilling; you invite him to sit next to you in hopes of extinguishing it. “Why don’t you just sit down and eat?”

Jace isn’t deterred. He holds his head high and keeps his voice stern; a trait he has undoubtedly learned from your mother. “You told me a couple moons ago that you had no affections for him.”

Oh, Gods. You don’t really want to sit here and listen to him complain about how much of a burden you are from rejecting all of your parents’ attempts at arranging a marriage. For hating every single man they tried to set you up with. You scold yourself more than enough. 

“I know what I said. And I mean it. I do not love him, Jace.” You let out a nervous laugh, trying to come across as naïve. The servants are staring now. “What has brought this on?” 

“You must think of me as a fool.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you acting so innocent?” 

“I don’t love him, Jacaerys. I swear it.” A bitter lie. 

For a fleeting moment, you think you’ve won; your brother stands next to the table without saying a word, his mouth clamped shut as he bites the inside of his cheek. 

And then he drops the bomb. 

“I know you have been seeing each other,” Jace says. It doesn’t come out as a question; it’s a statement. “Stealing each other away in the night.”

Your heart drops in a single second. How does he...? 

For these past few weeks, you thought you were being careful. Undetected. There was never anyone around when you slipped through the dark halls of the Red Keep every night and sidled up to Aemond’s door. Not a single voice to stop you as Aemond tugged you into his room and spoke High Valyrian in your ear as he undressed you, as he kissed you senseless, fucked you senseless. It was a dangerous game, of course — but you never actually expected to get caught. 

“…Where did you hear that?”  

“A kingsguard told me that you parted from his company last night.” Jace’s mouth twists into a disgusted frown. He hesitates, almost like he physically can’t say what comes next. “...From his chambers.”

In that moment, you knew it was over. The gist was up. 

“Jace…”

“Tell me it isn’t true.” 

And that’s the thing: you can’t say you don’t love Aemond, because it would be the furthest thing from the truth. Your hands fall to your lap and you fist your hands in the skirt of your dress, begging for courage. 

“Don’t tell mother.” 

Your response — shameful and pleading — speaks volumes. It makes Jace’s skin boil; he had been praying that the knight was wrong. And that hope he clung to so religiously? It’s gone. You can feel the symptoms of a dispute brewing: sweaty hands, agitated eyes, labored breathing. Tension hangs over you like a dark cloud and refuses to dissipate. 

“Why?” Jace looks disgusted, repulsed even. It sparks a flame inside you. “You saw his true colors that night. All of us did. Baela, Rhaena. Luke.”

You know what he’s referring to. It is a memory that you want to squeeze the life out of. 

“I thought we talked about you sorting out your priorities,” he continues. “What self-respecting daughter of the future Queen runs off and beds whoever she likes without a marriage proposal?” 

Yes, perhaps your growing annoyance is misplaced. Your brother wants the best for you, and it’s only natural that he would have his reservations about Aemond.

But he doesn’t know the man like you do; he hasn’t seen his hidden softness.

Sometimes people lose their ability to be recognized when they are joyful — in a pleasant way, of course. Aemond is one of those people. You’ve seen him smile once before. Truly smile. It was not sly, snarky, or coy; for once, it was the sincere kind. You wished he would do it more. It was incredibly beautiful.

If only Jace could have experienced it.

“Don’t speak about him like that,” you mumble. 

"I won't restrain myself to appease your ignorance.” 

Inhaling sharply, you take a seat at the table and busy yourself by playing with the napkin beside your plate. It’s a feeble attempt at controlling your rising panic. Jace must think you’re acting a bit too calm, because he seems to bristle at your alleged indifference. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you. Really, I am. I was just scared—“

“You lied.” 

“It was a white lie. No harm was meant to come from it.”

Jace fixes you with a firm scowl. “A white lie? A white lie? Meddling with our uncle who you are not betrothed to is not something that just happens.”

“You are blowing this out of proportion. I did it to keep you from getting upset and—“

“This is not just about the lie itself,” Jace huffs. 

“Then what is it?”

“You believed I wasn't worth your honesty.” 

Your gut tightens at his remark — you know he’s right and that he deserves to be informed of such things. Finding out that someone you care for is hiding something this important is a rude awakening. 

But you can’t stop. 

“I knew you would act like this,” you retort. Raising your voice wasn’t planned, but it happens anyway. It feels like your veins are being ripped to bits as the telltale marks of wrath sweep throughout your body. “I will do you a favor next time and not tell you anything at all.” 

“Or you could not encourage him,” Jace spits out. “You think that he does not act like his brother, Aegon? For all you know, he could be gallivanting with a servant every second he is not with you.” 

Your jaw tightens so firmly that it seems to lock in place. You’re pissed now. “Aemond is not like that.” 

“When you see him next, you can tell him to jump in the damn Dragonpit,” Jace continues. You aren’t used to hearing such crude language from him; it has you reeling. “Perhaps he’ll do that after he’s done fucking you.”

Something inside you bursts. Agonizingly. Ferociously. It's a jolt to your system that throws everything off-kilter. It is a painful fury that splits you in two. 

You slam your palms down on the table and rise in your chair; you're astonished the wood doesn't split with the force of it. The plates and forks clatter, and Jace almost jumps. The servants bustling around you certainly do. 

Your brother has some nerve. You want to spit foul names in his face. Wish to seize him by the collar and force him to kneel before your feet, because why? Why can’t you be with who you want? First it was Daemon who denied that you ever get betrothed to Aemond. Then it was your mother, and now it’s him. 

“I do not need protecting, Jace!” Your chest is rising and falling faster now, like the erratic pull of the tides. It feels like there is so much bottled up energy inside of you that you could scream, erupt, or break something … you need to break something. You choose his spirit. “I don’t need you at all!” 

Jace’s expression falls then. Along with it goes your anger. 

His gaze flits to the ground for a second — as if the stone is a safe haven from your wrath — and you’re about to apologize when he lifts his chin to glare daggers at you. 

“I get it now,” Jace laughs bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “You would do anything to be held by him. Ceasing to care about who he might hurt next and ignoring his callousness. You see only what you want.”

In his rage, Jace’s lips spew poison from deep in his chest, a dark place that you didn't even know he had.

“You make me wonder how I ended up with a delusional lunatic for a sister.“

Dead silence.

The two of you are just staring at each other now. Jace braces himself when you step away from your seat; he looks like he’s expecting you to slap him, like he’s preparing himself for the sting. 

And as much as you would like to do it, you just walk away.

You’re not even sure if Jace tries to stop you at first. Not sure if a servant tries to tries to grab you by the arm. You are running on pure adrenaline, pure buzzing energy, blood pumping like a battle cry in both eardrums. 

It takes until you’re exiting through the giant wooden doors to hear Jace yelling your name — and you loathe how worried he sounds, detest it — and then you’re practically running through the stone hallways. 

You want to go to bed. Shut everyone out and sleep until you awaken in a different world: one where you are not expected to get married to certain people, where your brother doesn’t expect you to be a person you can’t, and the 'losing an eye’ thing never happened, and … and it’s just you, Aemond, wrapped up in the sheets of your mattress. That’s all. 

The world is just cruel. 

Every step echoes as you make a beeline for your room. Tears slip down your cheeks and your fists quake; everything hurts. Emotionally, at least. You’re too worn out, too aggravated, too... mad? Hell, you’re not even sure if you’re still mad. The emotion that rips you apart right now feels more like an indigo-drenched sadness than a red-hot anger. 

It’s a strange, crushing feeling that has you stifling a sob while rounding a corner. 

But, as if the universe hates you, you catch a glimpse of that ethereal man — the fucking bane of your existence — walking down the same hallway. His back is to you, long white hair swishing with every stride he takes, and his posture is strong. 

You don’t want to ruin his day. Spoil the mood, or show how weak you can be.

You call out his name anyway, because there’s only one thing you can think of in this moment. A mantra:

I need you right now, My Prince.

I need you to truly look at me and understand me.

Aemond, I need you to see me.

The man turns then. He says your name, and you, who denied loving him, practically run and throw yourself into his arms. 

For a moment, Aemond doesn’t move a muscle; he’s confused, at a total loss. But then his palms slowly come down to your waist, supporting your body as he allows you to sniffle into his tunic. 

He doesn’t speak for awhile. Instead, he just looks down at you.

Your cheeks are dressed in tears that resemble droplets of honey. Your gardenia scented hair, pressed against his chest, is beautiful. He discovers an unexpected heaven amidst your grief. 

“He doesn’t want us to be together,” you try to whisper, but the words falter and trickle pitifully out of your mouth. They lack the power that you so urgently need. 

At first, Aemond is silent. He has no idea what you’re talking about; and then it clicks. Jace. 

Aemond has never been one to comfort others. You don’t really expect him to do much, honestly. But when he decides to speak, his tone is gentle and holds no judgment. “Your dear brother has found out about our arrangement, I presume.” 

You pull away slightly to stare up at Aemond. You drink in every plane of his face; those high cheekbones, his pretty lips, the silver hair that brushes the ridge of his jaw and the scar he hides. You want to absorb all of him. 

Aemond’s hands come to rest on your elbows, and then they slide all the way down your arms until he’s tenderly holding you by the wrists. He doesn’t give you a chance to answer before speaking more resolutely. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No — No, of course not,” you sniffle. Jace could be stubborn and fierce, but he would never lay a hand on you. “He was just being a brat. We got into an argument and he was ... he was mean.”

Aemond hums at that. “It must not have been too bad then. He is all bark and no bite,” he muses softly. Every syllable is gentle, each vowel soothing in its own right. He’s calm somehow.

It’s in these moments that you wish so deeply you could be like Aemond. Wish that you could stand your ground, despite wanting to run away. Wish that you could hold the barbs of someone’s anger in your palm and not get stung; not allow the sharp edges to slice under your skin and leave streams of blood in its wake. 

But you are not strong like him. 

With bated breath, you move to embrace Aemond once more, arms wrapping around his middle as you press your nose into the leather of his tunic. 

It doesn’t last long. 

Aemond leans into you, and then with both hands on your shoulders, gently tugs you away from his chest. You glance at him in confusion, and meet his gaze with an infantile glare. 

For a second you think he doesn’t want to hug you. That he’s about to chide you for being a big baby, for getting in a fight with your sibling and blowing things out of proportion. 

But then you quickly realize that he just wants to see your face. 

The truth is, Aemond doesn’t want you to hide in his arms. He doesn’t want you to bury your head into his chest and conceal your pain, or for you to dig your face into his clothes until each cheek is dry and you look composed again. 

He wants you to share every emotion with him openly, no matter how warped or ugly or bruised. 

Perhaps that’s what love is; recognizing someone's greatest vulnerability and still choosing to love them. 

It’s hard to place what emotion rests itself in Aemond’s eye after that, but whatever it is almost has you numb to how he’s holding both of your hands in his own. That is, until he trails a thumb over your knuckles. 

“Convince Jace, please,” you beg once more. The edges of your mouth start to turn downwards as you tear up again, and Aemond’s eye follows; he takes in your grief intently, and you are fully conscious of that fact. “Please. Show him you are worthy of my hand.” 

There’s a sort of surprise that swirls in his lilac gaze; however, his lips are in a straight line, his face nothing else but cold, and you can picture the war that rages inside his head. 

“I bear a hatred that could draw blood,” Aemond finally murmurs. “Those who do not deserve to be forgiven will not know my mercy. I will not betray my feelings to please others.”

“Try, Aemond. Please. If not for you and your sanity, do it for me.”

Aemond can only stare at you — his only love, his life, his breath of fresh air. The woman who he hopes will be his future wife despite your family’s distaste. He inhales deeply, chest rising and flattening the creases in his tunic, gaze roaming the tear-tracks on your face. And then he caves. 

But not before making a demand. 

“Do not cry, my love,” Aemond breathes. “It does not suit you.” 

And when you blink up at him so sweetly, nodding in a wordless vow, Aemond presses a kiss to the crown of your head. Then he kisses your left cheek, and the right, before slowly tracing his lips against your own. 

“Your body is mine,” He whispers into your parted mouth. “And I will find a way to claim it. They will have no choice but to accept me.” 

Aemond is a professional at pressing your buttons. It’d be a lie if you said it didn’t excite you; quickly, you capture his lips into a searing kiss. He returns the favor, knowing damn well that you want him, and yet he doesn’t tease in between kisses. He chooses tenderness over taunts just this once. 

The air is filled with a sentence unsaid: 

Touch my soul with warm words, and I shall do whatever you wish. 

[saintsenara]

Do you think the wizarding world even has a concept of rape? I don't think this was JKR's intent but love potions are considered perfectly legal, Romilda Vane doesn't get in trouble, Dumbledore doesn't seem to think Merope did anything wrong to Tom Riddle Sr., and despite a member of Magical Law Enforcement witnessing lots of sketchy stuff at the Gaunts' no one steps in to help Merope. Plus we know their society is archaic and lacks modern values - ie. quills, slavery, lack of democracy

it's a great question pal.

the answer for which is under the cut, for the obvious reason that it comes with a trigger warning for rape.

when the statute of secrecy was signed in 1689, rape - defined as "the carnal knowledge of a woman forcibly and against her will" - had been illegal under english law since the middle ages.

however, the "against her will" bit is important here. in the seventeenth century, it was a legal requirement for a victim of rape to prove that she had maintained a continuous state of physical resistance during her assault. in cases where a victim could not prove this, her consent was presumed - even if she had been incapacitated in some way. unsurprisingly, consent was always assumed between husbands and wives.

men could not be raped under the letter of seventeenth-century english law - but the rape and sexual assault of men was illegal under buggery [sodomy] laws, and was often taken much more seriously by the state...

and i think we can plausibly say - should we want to - that, on the basis of what we find in canon, the wizarding world might retain this legal requirement for rape to be indisputably resisted, and that this explains why love potions seem to have no repercussions attached to them.

because, of course, love potions essentially function like date rape drugs, even if they leave their victims appearing to be of sound mind [the officiant who married tom and merope wasn't suspicious of anything, for example - and the only reason ron is so badly affected by the love potion he takes is because it was out of date] . they incapacitate a person to the extent that they cannot offer legitimate consent to sexual acts, and they also incapacitate them to the extent that they cannot physically resist their attacker - in their case, by compelling the person dosed with the potion to regard their attacker as someone they want to have near them.

therefore, if wizarding law only considers rape to be something which is accompanied by evidence of resistance... then using a love potion on somebody would not be rape.

the cultural implications of this are fascinating - especially since [no matter what jkr thinks] the wizarding world appears to be restrictive [by the standards of muggle britain in the 1990s and 2000s - although, unfortunately for those of us on our high horses about coming from a superior nation, not by the standards of muggle ireland...] in terms of conventions surrounding sexual behaviour and gendered expectations placed upon women.

the marriage age for women is extremely low [any woman whose wedding date we can pin-point in canon - molly weasley, andromeda tonks, lily potter, fleur delacour - gets married as a teenager]; the age for having children is also much lower than it was in the muggle world - and even than it was in the muggle world of the 1940s-1980s [all four of the women above fall pregnant before they're twenty-one, for example]; unmarried couples don't seem to live together, and there's clearly a social taboo against premarital sex [molly weasley gets a lot of flack from the fandom for making bill and fleur sleep in separate bedrooms, but nobody in the story regards this as prudish or old-fashioned]; divorce doesn't seem to be common [and blaise zabini's mother killing her husbands certainly takes on a new flavour if we assume that divorce is extremely difficult... or even illegal]; and married women - at least in the middle- and upper-classes - don't seem to work.

i also think that it's canonically plausible that arranged marriage, including between cousins, is a common cultural practice [sirius' comment in order of the phoenix about parents "letting" their children marry basically confirms this, i think] - which means we can also imagine, if we'd like, that there's perhaps little legal distinction between arranged and forced marriage.

obviously - obviously - i don't think that any of these are things the doylist text intended. the reason the story says very little about sex - both consensual and otherwise - or law or gender norms is because the harry potter series is a story about a boy-wizard who goes to a cool magic school and fights a good-versus-evil battle to the death which was written for children. i don't begrudge the publishers for not fancying a hundred pages on harry learning how to put on a condom...

[and the low marriage/childbearing ages genuinely seem to be because jkr is functionally innumerate and didn't realise how young she was suggesting everyone was...]

but from a watsonian perspective, they're really interesting - especially for the extremely disturbing paths they can lead us down as authors when we're trying to flesh out the worldbuilding of magical britain.

what - for example - is the wizarding age of consent? and how would this impact how wizards understand sexual maturity, adult-child power relations, and child abuse?

[after all, if the age of consent is unchanged from 1689... it could be as low as ten. which goes some way towards explaining why nobody thinks of tom riddle as grooming ginny...]

and does the law consider it possible for a wizard to rape his wife? and if it doesn't, what does it think about him beating her?

what legal rights do sex workers have in the wizarding world?

is abortion legal? is contraception? is homosexuality? does gay sex have a higher age of consent?

is divorce legal? can women initiate a divorce? how are single mothers treated [and, therefore, what was lupin willing to do to tonks by walking out on her]? how are the children of unmarried parents treated? what property and inheritance rights do women have? are marriages performed by muggles - or dissolved by them - recognised by the wizarding state? what position does this put a witch [like eileen snape] who marries a muggle man in? would a wizard who marries a muggle woman and then abandons her be committing bigamy if he married a witch?

would wizards ever be punished for sexual offences against muggle women? does merope get away with attacking tom sr. in the eyes of the wizarding state because of her gender or because he's a muggle or both? could a muggle raped by a wizard even report the crime?

what modesty standards are there in terms of dress and behaviour? what would wizarding feminism look like? what is it like to be muggleborn [especially from the 1960s onwards] and enter this world?

i think i'm inclined to take the grimmest possible view of all of these questions, to be quite honest...

the wizarding world is fucked up.

[guacamoleroll]

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖓𝖔 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖓 「𝔣𝔶𝔬𝔡𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔢𝔳𝔰𝔨𝔶」 ༉‧₊˚

content. f!reader. discussions of asexuality (implied), fyodor dostoevsky character study, not-safe for work content (heavily implied), brief mentions of prostitution, discussions of religion and sexual immorality, fyodor is secretly whipped

author's note. wanted to post some quick little headcanons to interrupt my short hiatus. wrote these on a complete whim, but i will never pass up the chance to talk about my husband ♡ can you tell i currently have the worst hozier obsession imaginable?

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin. In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human. Only then I am clean. — Take Me to Church, Hozier

Fyodor has never had romantic or sexual attraction to anyone before you. Despite being raised in the worst parts of Moscow, where prostitution was rampant amongst the working folk, he had never been attracted to the half-naked women that paraded outside on the streets.

But you made everything different. Your entire being — body, mind, and soul — devours his every waking thought. There is something so divinely imperfect about you — so human and flawed but genuine and true. He never thought it possible to be enraptured in someone, too forlorn by the visages of his youth to consider the possibility of romance or desire. Without anything to break his fall, he slipped deep into his yearning. 

And he may be a charming man, undoubtedly able to flirt and captivate if required, but not to the point of total seduction. Any faux dalliance would cease before it met physical intimacy, not even a mere kiss left on the unsuspecting fool's cheek. But to him, you are not a fool. You mean so much more than that, proven through his rare but deliberate touches.

There is no doubt that Fyodor is a pious man dedicated to living a life in dedication to the workings of a perfect world — for better or worse. And while he does not follow every doctrine to the letter, he would stray away from sexual immorality. For him to indulge in sexual pleasure, he would have to be married. But that doesn't mean he won't bend the rules.

If you ever did have premarital sex, Fyodor thinks of it like this: you are already his; you were destined for one another, so you are already married in the eyes of God.

He wouldn't indulge in sex for his own pure pleasure, despite any he may receive. Instead, he seeks the gratification of bringing you to your knees, literally and metaphorically. The expression of delicate bliss on your face as he, and he alone, brings you to the edge. The sweet, almost sacrilegious pleas that spill from your lips as you beg him to break you more. And, of course, he is more than proud to oblige. 

taglist: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @kotysluny

© 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 2023 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[sunfyresrider]

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 | Aegon T.

✧Summary: Ever since you were a child you found solace in the faith. As you grew so did your devotion to the gods. You were hellbent on becoming a septa and remaining pure. Until one cursed night you stumble upon a scene that tests your faith and continues to do so until you reach your breaking point. ✧Tags: religious themes, religious guilt, Aegon issss, well, a whore, targcest, wet dreams, some spicy church smut. ✧Author’s Note: Anon, my love, your request was very long so I didn’t put it in the post itself. I hope you find this and enjoy it<3 ps I did not edit the smut scene bc i got embarassed

You had always been a good girl, your mother’s favorite. You were hopelessly devoted to the gods and worshiped them as you were supposed to. You did not sin, unless it was necessary, and it rarely was. You did what your mother said no questions asked. You attended septa lessons and the sept frequently, as those were the only things that mattered to you. 

The clothes you wore were never flashy, you seldom wore jewelry. Sometimes you paired them with a hair net or cowl to conceal your hair, as was expected of women of the faith. You did not flaunt your body, nor did you flaunt yourself. You followed the rules and found solace in them. 

Unlike your sweet sister who would in time be wed, have children and live out her life as somebody’s wife, you were hell bent on becoming a septa. What better way to prove your devotion than becoming a servant of the faith?  Your siblings were not the same, the Targaryens in general were not the same. 

They all sinned needlessly, whether it be incest or premarital bedding they all did it and assumed themselves to be exempt from the gods punishments. You knew better, of course, as was expected of a servant of the gods. However, tonight was much different than the rest. 

You should have been in bed by this hour. If your mother found, you she would surely chastise you. But Merexes, your cat, had escaped and you could not sleep without her. You delicately creeped around the keep, avoiding any guards stationed outside during the nighttime. Though half of them looked as if they were asleep standing up, it was better to be cautious. 

“Mer,” you whispered loudly. “Here kitty kitty, it’s time for bed.” your voice faintly echoed throughout the corridor. You heard some noises coming from the eastern part of Maegor’s holdfast. Perhaps Helaena had stolen her away in the night and failed to tell you. 

You didn’t like this part, the area where your eldest brother slept. It was dark and dingy, his guard Ser Arryk was almost always sent away so Aegon could do whatever he pleased. What he did you did not know, but you were sure it was against the faith. There were only a few candles in this corridor, making the darkened stone walls appear far scarier than they should be. 

“Meraxes, where are you, my love?” Your voice was shaky, more nervous than previously. A small gush of wind made an eerie noise causing you to jump. You really did not like this place at night. “Here kitty kitty,” you tried again in a louder whisper. The breeze chilled your shoulder, causing you to wrap your shawl around tighter. It was foolish to leave your room in your night clothes too, your mother would not approve. 

At the end of the hallway there was a faint light flickering, in the shadow it casted you could see a tail gently swaying accompanied by mewling. Your entire mood shifted as you raced towards her, calling out her name quietly. You lost focus of your surroundings as you swiftly lifted her into your arms before she could resist. You squeezed her gently, placing kisses on her head.

But your focus was pulled away, the sound of mewling did not stop and it was not coming from your cat. You turned on your heels, peeking around the corner. The thing you saw was beyond sinful, a direct violation of every commandment the gods had. The eldest of your siblings, Aegon, had a woman wrapped around her waist. He was thrusting into her, in the bare at that. For a moment you were too stunned to move, your feet firmly planted into the floor. Your eyes were nearly popping out of your head, a crimson blush covering your exposed skin. 

It felt as if the room was on fire, a swirling sensation beginning to form in your gut. You were sure your mouth hung agape; you had never ever seen anything so vulgar in your life before… As if sensing they were being watched the girl whipped her head over to see you, she let out a scream signaling you were there.

It immediately snapped you out of your daze, you sprinted towards your bedroom refusing to look back. Meraxes bouncing in your arms as you dodged through your door, slamming it shut behind you. You paced around your room, panting whilst trying to catch your breath. Aemond always said he was the definition of sin, and you should have listened. You should had stayed in your chambers; you should had left before you witnessed anything. 

You shook your head, trying to banish the vile images from your mind. You felt dirty, even though you had not gone near mud. You forced yourself into the bed, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to forget everything you had seen. It was nearly impossible, especially with this unknown desire that now plagued you. 

There was a warm sensation in between your legs. The feeling of something wet lapping at an area you never dared touch.Your core felt as if it was tingling, causing your body to squeeze around something. You lowered your hand, grabbing at the hair of whoever’s head was down there. The appendage moved in circles around you, eliciting sensations you had never felt prior. His hands moved to cup at your breasts, squeezing your nipples to pull soft moans out of you. You lazily opened your eyes, looking down to see who was bringing you such pleasure….. “Aegon?” 

You jumped awake, scanning your room for any intruders. You lifted your night dress to see if anything had happened, yet you found nothing but wet bed sheets. Your core ached for something you did not know… And you felt dirty once more. Incest was one of the greatest sins, accompanied by whatever else you had done in your dreams.

You had the maids fetch you a bath as soon as you woke, scrubbing ceaselessly at your skin to wash away the sin you didn’t want. By the time you had finished your skin was reddened and raw. Still, the feeling of uncleanliness did not leave you. The throbbing between your thighs refused to leave. 

You were meant to attend septa lessons today and walk around the gardens with Helaena to search for bugs, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your room. Instead, you attempted to find solace in the book of the seven. As you read you kept your legs crossed, it was the only way you had found to cease the ache a little. 

There was nothing in the book you could find that explained your new feelings. However, it is said that prostitution and promiscuity is against the faith and outlawed. You knew about the women who bed men before marriage, but promiscuity was a large word you hadn’t heard the definition before. In general, bedding was actually seen as bad but was ignored since you needed it to have children. 

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were never taught what bedding was. You knew a man laid with a woman, but the details were not given to you. Since you were adamant on becoming a septa, those lessons were never extended to you… 

You could only presume what your brother was doing was bedding… 

You gave up on the religious scripture, though it said many things most of them you couldn’t understand. What you knew in your heart was the thoughts in your mind were sinful, the thing you saw last night was sinful. And if you kept going on like this you would burn in the seven hells. 

But you are young, and curiosity got the best of you.  Which is why you sought out your elder sister, she’s the smartest and least judgmental. If anyone in this realm had the answers you sought after it would be her. So, you forced yourself out of your chambers and into the gardens with her. 

It had just rained the other day, which meant many new sorts of creatures crawled out of the dirt. Underneath the neatly trimmed shrubbery was an array of different worms, in the flower beds there were many beetles and a few flying insects who buzzed constantly. 

Foraging for insects was not something you necessarily enjoyed, but it would get her in high spirits before you used her as a living dictionary. You made your way to the gods wood, a favorite destination of hers. Every time you went you laid in the same position, your head on her lap and her leaned against the tree half asleep. 

“Sister, if I may, can I ask a question?” She nodded silently, stroking your hair between her fingers. “You must swear you won’t get angry.” Helaena let out a soft hmm, enjoying basking in the sun. “What exactly does bedding entail?” Her eyes opened, a bit of surprise lacing her features. “I should have guessed mother never told you... Basically a man puts his penis inside a woman’s body until his seed spills and hopefully a babe will come from it.” 

It was now your turn to look surprised, you opened your mouth to say that was all you needed but she continued. “That’s for producing an heir. If a man lays with a woman for pleasure, they do all sorts of things. A man may put his penis in her mouth, she may sit on his face and have him lick her, sometimes they touch themselves together… That’s what Aegon does when he disappears at night.” 

Now you knew too much and regretted asking. “I believe all of these are sins in your religion so, you don’t have to worry about it. Why do you ask?” You were now flustered, and unspeakably embarrassed. However, speaking to Helaena of such things would probably bring more comfort than confessing to the Septon.., “I saw Aegon coupling last night, in the hallway.” 

She let out a groan, sitting up from her place in the grass. “You know, I can’t count the amount of times Aemond and I have caught him. We specifically said to keep his doings away from you since you so badly yearn to become a septa… I’m sorry you had to witness that.” 

The worst part of it all was that you didn’t regret it. You did in a way, you wished your eyes and mind had remained as pure as they were prior. However, you did not dislike the scene entirely. There was some sick and twisted part of you that wished it was you, that was enraged it was someone else. 

Fool, you chastised yourself. You are breaking three commandments in a single day. Desires of the flesh, jealously, and worst of all incest. The guilt was overwhelming but the burning desire to know more was just as strong. 

You would pray for the gods mercy tonight and every other night until this was gone.

Your mother forced you to attend supper this night. She had been worried you hid yourself away and refused you let you stay that way… She didn’t know you were protecting yourself from unlawful images! The vast table was almost always empty, usually only Aemond, Helaena, you and your mother attended them. You were thankful this was one of the things your brother strayed away from. You don’t think you could look him in the eye after last night.

However, the gods were testing you today just as they did last. In the midst of dining, whilst Helaena was telling you about the butterfly she saw today, he came strolling in. Aegon looked as he usually did, unclean. Though he had a lazy smirk plastered on his face as he took a seat at the table. 

“Sister,” he nodded towards you, a sickly sweet greeting. Your body tensed, a sheen of blush coating your face. The monster had come to pull you into the depths of his depravity and you would not do it. “Nice of you to join us, Aegon.” Your mother gritted through her teeth. “Pray tell, what made you decide to show up today?” 

“Aemond,” your mother attempted to chastise him. He sank back in his chair signaling one of the servants to fill his glass. “I just wished to see my family.” He glanced at you knowingly, you immediately turned your focus to the food in front of you. Your eyes occasionally met and each time they felt as if they scorched your soul. 

“Hmm,” was all Aemond managed to say before he went back to eating. Your grandsire waved a hand so the bard would start playing, anything was better than the silence that shrouded family meals. Supper was no longer appetizing, you simply picked away at your food with the fork. 

The bard began to play a familiar tune, one that many dance to. You closed your eyes and hummed along, ignoring anyone else in the room. For a moment it was peaceful and there were no thoughts plaguing you. Until you felt two fingers tap at your shoulder drawing you out of your daze, “May I have this dance?”

The gods were surely testing your devotion, you fumbled your words, unable to come up with a suitable excuse. “Oh my, how surprising! Sweetie, go dance with your brother.” Your mother nudged you forward, so unaware of the games her own flesh played.

You begrudgingly took his hand, his warmth radiating through you. His grip was firm yet gentle, his hands soft yet taut. Aegon led you to the center of the room, positioning his hand around your waist. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, images of where his hands were last night flooding your brain. 

“You seem flustered today, any particular reason?” He spun you around, speaking lowly so no one else could hear. Somehow you managed to find your voice, “I haven't a clue what you’re saying.” Aegon chuckled, his grip on your squeezing harder than before. Hands traveling lower than what was deemed proper. “Someone as righteous as you shouldn’t be lying.” You dared to look him in his eyes, feeling the room starting to spin around you. Your entire body felt flushed, as if a dragon had shrouded you in their flames.

“I-I don’t lie,” your gaze fell to his feet on the floor. Aegon leaned in close so his hair brushed against your ear. He whispered, “So, if I ask you where you were last night, you’ll tell me the truth?” You looked at him and he looked at you, with that same smirk. You didn’t need to respond; you both knew what you saw. “Did you dream about me too? I swore I heard you calling my name from inside your chambers.”

Your head was spinning, the room going black for a moment. You could hear people talking, you could hear the bard playing, but it was muffled as if you were underwater. You felt your knees become weak, the heat rising to your cheeks. If it wasn’t for Aegon’s grip you surely would have fallen to the floor out of sheer embarrassment. “What a shame it would be if mother found out, you, her perfect septa lusted for your brother.” 

It was as if someone was twisting your insides and trying to break your faith. He was teasing you, simply trying to pull you down to his own depths of depravity. You were not like him, you were not vulgar or licentious. You were better than he was and yet you felt as if you could melt into his touch. His words boiling inside you like a wildfire that reached your core. “M-may the gods have mercy on you, brother.” 

Aegon hummed, his fingers digging into your hips. You closed your eyes and prayed to the gods that your cheeks weren't as red as they felt. Aegon kept dancing, seemingly unfazed by his teasing. The shame you felt was indescribable, there were not enough soaps in the world to cleanse you now.

Once the song came to an end Aegon stopped, slowly bringing you closer to him. He was staring into your eyes, a fire burning inside them. His lips pressed against your forehead, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "I’ll keep this our secret, little septa.” He backed away from you, beckoning goodnight to everyone else. As soon as he left, you took a deep breath. You tried to calm yourself, feeling as if you were standing on a raft in a river while being pulled apart by two separate streams.

A gentle hand touched your shoulder, “don’t let him get to you. He revels in other people's misery.” Helaena stared at him while he left, eyes narrowed in his direction. “Will you take me to bed, please? I don’t feel hungry anymore…” She nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

The past several nights you were plagued with dreams of sin. If Aegon’s head was not between your legs, then he was inside of you. If he was not on top of you, he was beside you touching you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Each night you awoke to a wet bed, sweat on your skin and each morning you took a bath and tried to scrub away the night before. 

It had gotten to the point you started to question the gods. Was this all a test to your devotion? If these feelings were so strong, was it truly sin after all? Yes, you reminded yourself, this was all terrible. Aegon was the living embodiment of everything the gods were against, a whore, a drunk, and everything else you could think of. Maybe that was why you were drawn to him; he was nothing like you. 

You wanted to be better than him, you wanted to be better than anyone. Yet, you felt weak in his presence, you felt your mind start to spin each time he talked to you. If you could not escape him, maybe you could change him.   You were sure that if Aegon was yours then the gods would forgive your sins, they would understand your passion and dedication. You had to believe that they would, after all, they were the ones who gave you this strength in the first place.

The sept was your very first destination of the day, the place where you would beg for forgiveness and for the gods to ease this burning inside of you. You lit a candle in front of you, lowering yourself to your knees and lacing your hands together. 

You took a deep breath, “I come before you to pray for forgiveness and to beg for help. For I have fallen victim to this burning desire within me… You know I am much purer than the depraved crowd. You know I do not feel jealousy nor hatred for any of your other children… And yet when I see my brother all I can feel is desire, when he speaks with another woman I am filled with hate. I do not understand why I am not strong enough to fight this… So, I beg you, let him feel the fires of the seven hells and free me from this torment. Or give him to me and me alone and let me change him.” 

You bowed your head, shutting your eyes and waiting for the gods to grant you a sign. For a moment, there was silence. You opened your eyes and stared at the candle in front of you, watching the flame flicker. Then you heard footsteps, “I should have assumed you would be here.” Aegon stalked forward, glancing at the statues around you. “Pray tell, why are you here?” 

You felt your heart begin to pound, each beat like a hammer to the side of your ribs. Aegon crossed his arms, “I come here… sometimes.” His gaze fell on you, you couldn't stand being under his scrutiny. 

“Since you’ve come so far, kneel with me brother,” you reached a hand out waiting for him to take it. Aegon stood there unsure, religion was never his forte. Still he took your hand and got on his knees in front of the gods. He cleared his throat, "what exactly am I meant to do?"

You gave him a gentle smile, "pray for mercy and forgiveness for your sins. And ask for guidance."  Aegon scoffed, “is that what you do? Pray for forgiveness? What sins have you committed that need prayer?” You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you stared at him. "I simply pray for others' sake." Aegon clicked his tongue, "Lying in the house of the gods too? You’ve really taken a turn for the worse.” 

Now all you could feel was guilt, was he always so capable of seeing through you? Would the gods punish you for a white lie? “It’s private.” He chuckled to himself, moving to sit on top of the stone you prayed before. “Who better to confess to than me? The gods will surely judge you for they’re too pure but I’m, as you said before, the living embodiment of sin.”

You stared up at him, from this angle he did seem godly to you, as if he was your sole god. As if he held a power over you that you did not possess. He beckoned you forward with a finger, placing it under your chin and lifting it so you faced him.  "Come little septa, tell me what your holy self has done."

The beating of your heart grew louder, threatening to burst from your chest and fill the sept with its frantic beating. "I- I have sinful desires… of the flesh." Your voice quivered as you confessed, the guilt of lying to the gods filling you to the brim. Aegon hummed, moving his finger from your chin and placing it against your lips. “Who has caused such vulgar things?”

He stared into your eyes, they seemed like an ocean of sin, filled with the horrors of the world and yet somehow, they were as clear as glass. You wanted to stare into them forever, as if they were a trap that you could not escape once you fell in. “Y-you.”

 He pressed his thumb to your bottom lip, tugging at it gently. His gaze turned heated, almost like that of a wild beast. “Then you have been praying to the wrong gods. If only you worshiped me, prayed to me, I could make it go away.” You could feel yourself start to sweat, a feeling of warmth forming between your legs. It was as if he was lighting a match in your stomach, slowly igniting your flesh with his burning gaze.

"t-teach me, how to devote myself to you instead.”  Aegon leaned closer, His warm breath hitting your lips. His voice was a low whisper, "As you wish, little septa," His lips crashed against yours, his hand tearing away your hair net. It was like he had torn a hole in the very fabric of the sept, the moment you entered the gods seemed to disappear. Everything about Aegon made you feel weak, he made you want to abandon your beliefs, make you want to throw away your virtue. 

His kiss was rough, but passionate. It was like he was devouring your very soul and sucking out your very being. Aegon began to unlace his trousers, his cock springing loose. Your eyes widened, you’d never seen a male appendage before, and you surely did not think they were this big. "Open your mouth." You obeyed, opened your mouth so your tongue was in view.  Aegon let out a low groan, "such a good little septa." 

Your lips stretched around his cock as he forced it into your mouth. His hips bucked forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat. He moaned, gently tugging at your hair to signal you to move. “Suck harder.” He looked down at you, his lustful gaze boring into your very soul. 

You did your best to please him, your head moving up and down, your tongue licking his shaft. Tears were beginning to leak from your eyes as his tip occasionally hit the back of your throat. "Fuck, " His hand ran through your hair, gently stroking it. 

He pulled himself out of your mouth, “We have on too many clothes.” He made quick work of his own clothes before tearing off your dress, stripping you naked in front of the gods. Aegon leaned back, his eyes wandering across your exposed flesh. "My, you are perfect, little septa."

Aegon pulled you onto his lap, one hand holding onto your waist while the other went between your legs. His finger slid against your folds, "So wet already." You shivered, a whine escaping your throat. "Aegon-"

"You’ve never touched yourself before, have you? Oh, you innocent thing," Aegon smirked, lifting you by your waist. His cock prodded at your entrance, the head slipping inside of you. He moved his hands, placing one on your hip while the other gripping your thigh. Aegon pushed you down, his cock forcing itself into your tight cunt. 

You let out a loud scream, the feeling of being stretched making your legs weak. He groaned; his cock buried inside of you. "That's right, scream loud enough for all the gods to hear." Aegon's hands moved to your waist, moving you up and down his cock.

"Aegon, ahh!" You cried out, each time he hit your center. You gripped onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "S-so good,” his words slurred. The holy sept was filled with the sound of your skin slapping together and the sounds he was forcing out of you. 

Your cunt began to tighten, a sickly-sweet heat building inside of you. “A-Aeg,” you cried out. He slowed his thrusts, biting his lip hard “not yet,” he pushed you off of him and onto the hot stone, coating your breasts and stomach in candle wax.

He moved behind you, his hand wrapping around your throat. "You're not allowed to cum until I do." He rammed himself into you, hitting the spot inside that made your legs turn to jelly. Aegon moaned, "s-good sister.” 

He pounded into you, his cock stretching you open. Your head was spinning, everything was hazy, and you couldn't tell where you ended and he began. Aegon slipped his fingers underneath you, rubbing at your clit. His pace was ruthless, each thrust making your head spin.

You bit your lip as Aegon rutted into you like an animal. Your legs started to become weak, shaking from the stimulation. "Fuck," he hissed, "Cum with me, little septa.” You whimpered loudly, the coil in your stomach tightening.  

His thrusts became sloppy, his fingers circling your clit faster. Your body went rigid, your toes curling and your vision blurring. A wave of ecstasy hit you, sending shivers down your spine. "Fuck fuck, fuck-" Aegon buried himself deep inside of you, your cunt squeezing his seed out of him. 

He fell on top of you, panting into your ear. His cock slipped out of you, cum dripping from your abused pussy. Aegon pressed a kiss to your temple, "my little septa," he chuckled, "You should have told me how you felt sooner."

Your entire body felt sore, yet you were completely at peace. You'd never felt this way before, your mind was clouded, and you couldn't even begin to think straight. Aegon kissed you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and making you melt. "Don't fret, I'll take care of you from now on, sweet sister."

[bunchems]

Marc’s Girl 18+ minors dni

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Summary: Loosening Steven up after trying on an outfit for your date with Marc tomorrow.

Warnings: Shy Steven, some haram drink consumption, premarital skin to skin contact, I think that all.

She looks gorgeous

Steven thought as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching you finish up your hair. Marc had him front so you could show him your dress, Steven looked down at himself, white tee with light grey sweatpants on, clearly no underwear. You and Marc have a date night planned for tomorrow and to make sure your outfit was absolutely perfect, you ask Steven for his opinion.

“Okay, done! How do I look?” You smile, spinning and watching as his face warms, taking you in.

“You look per- pretty. Lovely.” He wipes a finger over his brow, hoping you didn’t hear his slip up. “Marc will be thrilled when he sees you.” You laugh and start walking closer to him, noticing how he anxiously fidgets as he wonders how to act around you.

“You don’t think the heels are a problem? I’m almost as tall as you.” You say, pulling his hands so he stands up.

“No- no it wouldn’t be a problem, he would love everything you’ve got on- planned! He would love everything you have planned.” Steven couldn’t help the way his eyes shifted to the mirror, paranoid that Marc would be there to yell at him for talking to his girlfriend like this. But Steven wanted her too. He wondered what it would be like for you to dress up just for him like you do for Marc. What would it be like to be kissed, even on the cheek, by you.

“What about you?” Blinking, he snapped out of his thoughts. “Hm?”

“I asked if you liked it. You keep saying that Marc would like it, but do you?” He’s looking at the mirror again, at the floor, at your feet, at the door, he’s nervous.

“I think you look… pretty.. all the time.” The way your eyes beamed made his heart clench, why did you have to be so incredible.

“Oh yeah? How come you’ve never told me before?”

How could I…

“Well, well you don’t need to be told do you? You know you’re lovely.” That might have been the smoothest thing Steven has ever said, especially when his brain was just dumping thoughts.

“You’re quite the charmer. You’ve never had a girlfriend, have you?” He frowns at the question, the truth is quite embarrassing, of course the truth is that he’s never even had a moment with a girl that was more passionate than holding hands.

“I- yes. I have. I had one when I was..”

Eighteen? Twenty-six? Thirty?

“Twenty.” He lies, watching your jaw drop. “You haven’t had a girlfriend in almost twenty years?!”

Should’ve said thirty.. five?

He looks down, your reaction hurt him, he knows it’s weird that he’s never been with a woman, that’s why he lied to you— but it has been double that, how would you have reacted if he said never?

Steven didn’t bother to answer, of course you noticed how he’s retreated a bit more into his shell.

“There’s nothing wrong with that or anything but I’m just shocked! You’re like the perfect man it’s quite unbelievable.” He looks at you in awe, then closing his mouth and nodding.

“You mean Marc.“ He was about to laugh his little shy laugh but you weren’t having any more of this denial.

“No, I know who I’m talking to, Steven. You and Marc are two completely different people.” You’ve stepped closer to him and he flinched, eyes shifting once again to the mirror, you ponder on that.

“Right.. you and Marc do communicate through reflections right? Is he here right now? ‘Cuz he’s really not supposed to be snooping on my dress.” You said, turning to look at the mirror with a stern look.

“No, he isn’t. I just- sometimes I get nervous that he might be.”

“Why?”

“Well.. you know..”

“No, I don’t think I do..?”

“Really? Well- you- you’re Marc’s girl..” You chuckled at his words, you’ve talked to Marc about this. That dating him and not Steven would be a little different for you and he fully understood. But of course he’d be jealous and not tell Steven this information.

“I can be yours too.” Gasping, he puts his hand over his heart to soothe the pleasurable ache in his chest.

“You don’t mean that..” He sighs, his face holding all the disbelief in the world, you squint at this, hatching an idea.

“You know what? We’ve never had a drink together, I have a bottle of wine that needs to be finished by tonight.. and I do mean that.” It was your smile that ultimately led him to saying yes, taking a distant seat next to you on the couch. The wine glasses were filled equally and you gave the obligatory cheers before taking a sip.

“T’s not as bad as I expected, not as bitter.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite, when this runs out I’m going straight to the store to get another.” His eyes get comically wide, setting his glass down and turning his body to face you.

“If it’s your favorite.. don’t you think you should save it for your date with Marc tomorrow? I mean wouldn’t you want to share this with him on your ..special day?” His voice lost diction as he spoke, subdued by the idea of it not being him that you’d be happily going out with tomorrow.

He takes another sip of his drink as you respond with a voice as sweet as honey. “There’s no one I’d rather share this bottle with, Steven.” He takes another long sip, hiding his smile with the glass and finishing the cup absentmindedly.

“So, how come you haven’t had a girlfriend for such a long time, hm?“ He felt shy at the question, answering in a low voice. “Women have never seemed to like me.. Don’t really blame them, I’ve no idea how to make a woman happy.”

When Marc first told you about Steven one of the first things he mentioned was how he’s treated. No one necessarily likes him yet they don’t have a good reason not to, he gets pushed around but he doesn’t do much about it, not many people talk to him and when they do you’d find yourself wishing that there were still good people on Earth. Marc said Steven doesn’t deserve nearly as much shit as he gets, he actually wants Steven to like you so everyone would be happy.

“That can’t be true.. how’d you ask out your last girlfriend? Or did she ask you?” He didn’t want to continue this lie but with the help of a glass of wine it became a bit easier to think of a way to answer.. without answering.

“Oh, I could never go and talk to a woman. Let alone one that I fancied.” Finally finishing your wine, you make to pour two more glasses, handing Steven his cup and smiling as he takes a bigger sip.

“So that must be why you’re all the way over there?” You figured that by now, the alcohol must be running through his system, of course you figured that because of his sudden inability to hide his smile and the way he looks at you.

“Yeah, sorry, guess I haven’t quite shaken the habit.”

“So you do like me?” He sighs, “‘Course I do.. Jus’ wish I was more like Marc, would be nice to be able to look good, sound cool. I think it would be nice if I could impress you like he does. I dunno.” He shrugs, taking another sip.

“Why don’t you impress me in your own way? Y’know, rather than Marc’s way.” Pressing his lips together, he thinks for a moment.

“Well, like I said, I wouldn’t know how. He’s the one that knows what to do, he’s tried to get me a girlfriend before, y’know? Didn’t work, she threw her drink at me.” You frown, “Why?”

“Well, it was my fault, really. I set our date at a vegan restaurant.” He looks up at your confused face with a small laugh. “She wasn’t vegan, she yelled at me because I didn’t ask what she liked to eat. Actually, a small part of me believes that she did that because she regretted saying yes to me.” His smile fell when he looked at you again, you looked upset, really upset.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I?” He sets his glass down and wipes his palms over his thighs, ready to leave in case you were mad at him.

“You could never make me uncomfortable, those girls suck okay? And it most definitely wasn’t your fault.” Standing, you pick Steven’s wine back up and hand it to him, sitting close enough that your legs touch.

When Steven received his glass, he passed it to the other hand. He allowed his left hand to relax but when he felt soft plump skin under his palm he jerked back with fear. “Sorry! I-I’m so sorry!” He was panicking at first, but then you laugh. That beautiful, lighthearted laugh that always seems to calm his nerves.

“What?” He laughs back, subconsciously scooting away. “You’re adorable, I don’t care that you touched my thigh.” He smiled and looked away momentarily.

“You don’t?” When he looked back at you, the comfortable smile on your face had his heart melting.

God she’s beautiful.. focus focus focus..

His thoughts were slow, concentrated on you and how your hand reached for his.

“Obviously not.” He blinked, what were you talking about? Did he miss something that had been said, done? What was happening? After a moment, he answers. “What d’you mean?”

“I thought we established that I want to be your girlfriend.” It takes multiple moments to fully understand what you were saying to him, he sat there blinking at you with the most mixed emotioned face you’ve ever seen.

“You were serious?” The waver in his voice almost broke your heart, “Why? I mean, of course I think you’re amazing.. and I know Marc and I are almost the same person to you but, uhm, d’you think you like me because you like Marc… Or do you actually think that I’m.. do you think- that you could even possibly be happy.. with me?”

“Yes, Steven, of course I can be happy with you. I like you for you, not because of Marc or anyone else. I know you’re sweet and incredibly caring. I know you’re a vegan so I’ll know to buy separate things for you, I know you love Egyptology, which is perfect for me because I think it’s interesting too, I know your fish, Gus, who really needs a companion, I know you’re entirely misunderstood, and I know that I do like you for you.” He contemplates, leg tapping and hands wringing.

“Are you sure?” You laugh at this, but he can’t seem to make himself laugh with you. “Why would I mind that?” He tilts his head in confusion. “Well- well I’m too nervous, for one.” He finishes his wine in a gulp, “I wouldn’t know what to do, how to treat you.” He thought again, the lie he’d told earlier still sitting on his chest weighing him down.

“And you were right earlier.. I’ve never had a proper girlfriend… I lied.” He sighed dramatically, you question him with a frown, feeling your stomach clench. “I just said that because I didn’t want you to know that-“ He stops to think of his words carefully, but no matter how he puts it, it still sounds the same.

“To know what..?” As patient and relaxed as ever, you calmed him down with the sound of your voice. “That no woman has ever really liked me.. because if you knew that, there’s no way that you would want me.” He wasn’t looking at you anymore, he was feeling shame, embarrassment, something too unpleasant to bare that he couldn’t put his finger on.

“I just- I know that it could change your mind..” He confirmed after maybe three seconds of silence, you put your hand on his thigh and fight back a giggle when he freezes.

“I do not give a fuck about what any other woman thinks of you. All you need to think about from now on is me, not whoever used to treat you like shit okay?” Even though he hears what you’re saying, his eyes seem to focus on the way you take his glass and put it down along with yours. The way your hips and legs shift to face him, your body coming closer, yours hands coming to the side of his face to tilt his head up so he could look in your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?“ The shock in his eyes only makes your heart flutter. He sighs out an ‘uhuh’ and you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, pulling back and laughing at the fact that his eyes are still blissfully closed.

You take that as a sign to press two more soft pecks before using your thumb to pull his lip down, sucking on it and pulling it softly with your teeth. He gasps and pulls away as he looks at you with curious eyes, you were sure he had a question but his eyes trailed away instead, shying away from it.

“What do you want to say?” The attempt to make your voice as sweet as possible must’ve worked since he turns to you, albeit slowly, and starts to mumble. “You- don’t have to say yes, but I wanted to- wanted you to maybe, teach me how to.. kiss.. you…”

“Of course, come with me.”

Part 2 maybe?

[drdarienzo]

Arrangements for a Spring Wedding

Take our $14.97 premarital course and save money on your Florida license and avoid the three day wait! We here at D’Arienzo Psychology are excited to help you take this next step toward marital happiness and success, and want to help deepen your relationship with your future spouse. Keep reading for tips and Dr. D’Arienzo’s tips on How Contempt Ruins Relationships: The Allure of Spring Weddings:…

[monstersandgirls-webtoons]

Has there been any other angels that have dated/married a demon? Or is Sera the "first one" to ever do that? I know there's a few angel/demon couples here and there but I'm mostly wondering if there were any before Sera and Lili?

No, Sera's not the first, and ironically she was extremely judgmental angels who married/befriended demons. However, most angels end up going to hell after dating a demon (premarital sex), so it's uncommon for an angel to date/marry a demon AND stay in heaven.

There are a few exceptions of course.

[starfxkr]

omg lamb!reader how would the ships be 😵‍💫😵‍💫

oooo this is fun…..

jj x lamb!reader is so ethel cain coded. he sneaks you out the house for parties at the boneyard and you of course sneak him back into you house every night. a sick part of him likes defiling the preachers daughter with jesus staring down at him.

rafe with the pk is so much darker…he knows realistically he doesn’t have a shot goin the honest way about it so he digs up some dirt on what your dad has going on like many corrupt church folk and he uses it as leverage against him to get close to you. but he realizes you’re not the meek little girl he’s expecting he just gives you the facilities to really act out.

john b is like a guiding hand of debauchery. he won’t encourage you persay but if you wanna dabble in some less than savory things like drinking and weed and premarital sex he’s not gonna tell you no. he’s gonna show you how to do it the right way.

pope aids you against his better judgement. he’s never one to keep a strong woman down but he does feel guilty shaking your dads hand after you convinced him to finger you in church. you’re so wide eyed and new to it all that he has to save you from the lions den many times because you haven’t learned your limits yet.

[jamiewintons]

Last Resort (Thomas Thorne/F!Reader)

Summary: You and Thomas have been friends since you were very young, yet he never seems to notice how you feel about him. One day when you watch him attempt to woo an actually interested lady, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Alive!AU. Childhood Friends to Lovers. Idiots in Love. Jealous/Possessive!Reader. Regency Era. Premarital Sex Acts. Loss of Virginity (for both Thomas and reader). Oral Sex (F!Receiving). Unprotected Sex. Marriage Proposals.

A/N: Another fic for my request event! The prompts from @missielynne were “Thomas Thorne + Jealous/Possessive Sex + Secret Crush”. Once again I can’t actually stick to the prompts properly - things start out fueled by jealousy but they don’t stay that way, haha…

It’s been quite a while since I’ve written anything for Thomas, so I hope everyone enjoys this!

Word Count: 3311

Thomas Taglist: @pink-booty-butts, @demontoucansam, @the-fandomgremlin, @veeraine, @glow-inthe-darkstarz, @iwillstealyourtoes-wattpad, @memelous-mrs-maisel, @agir1ukn0w, @definetlynotasmutaccount, @jamiewintonmybeloved, @alinearecta, @notwhateveriwasbefore, @multisexyhoez20, @clydethesnake

*

Your family and the Thorne family had been close since before you were born, owing to the long friendship between your mother and Mrs. Thorne (née Button). You had been particularly close to Mrs. Thorne’s youngest child and only son, Thomas, since you were both children, and had stayed that way into young adulthood.

This close friendship was beginning to become a problem, however.

It must have been in your teenage years when you realised you had started to harbour romantic feelings for Thomas. Thomas, who fell head over heels for every beautiful woman that came his way, but never for you. Did he see you as like one of his sisters? Or perhaps, due to how long you’d known each other, he hardly even recognised you as a woman and simply as a friend? You desperately wished to tell him how you felt, but it was all so difficult. You didn’t wish to ruin the longest lasting friendship you’d had if Thomas didn’t feel anything for you.

But watching him fawn over other women hurt your heart. You’d lost count of how many times he’d confided in you about his deep, loving feelings for a woman who he’d spoken to once. How many times you’d had to listen to the poetry he had composed for them and give him your feedback on it, when all you wanted was for those words to be for you?

But still, you waited, watched, hoping that somehow Thomas would come to the sudden realisation that you love him, leading him to discover that he’d loved you in return all along without realising. Any of the suitable men that your father arranged for you to meet were of no interest to you, because all you could think about was the silly, romantic poet who had stolen your heart without even knowing it.

Your fortunes started to change when you were at a little get together being held by your parents at your family home. Thomas, of course, was also in attendance. You were sticking close to his side, trying not to look utterly bitter as he attempted to woo a young woman who was also attending the event. You couldn’t quite recall her name, but you were sure you’d seen her around before. She was certainly quite pretty; you could see why she had caught Thomas’ eye.

Everything was going normally, until you noticed something quite peculiar. Unlike every other woman you’d seen Thomas attempt to flirt with before, this lady was actually responding positively. She wasn’t trying to brush him off, she actually liked him.

You felt your heart wrench. She was interested in Thomas. Thomas was interested in her. If things went well between them, a proposal might be made. They would marry without you ever getting your chance to let Thomas know how much you adored him. It was a terrifying thing to imagine the only man you’d ever loved marrying another woman. You abhorred the very thought of it, and right away you knew you had to stop it.

When the woman excused herself for a minute, you saw your chance to strike. Grabbing Thomas by the wrist, you began to drag him out of the main room and into the hallway. Everyone had been so busy chatting amongst themselves that none of them noticed either of you leaving. All the way down the hall, Thomas was questioning you and your motives, his voice somewhat high pitched with shock and confusion.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Where are we going?” he asked you, but you didn’t answer him. Words were not enough, this could only be sorted out with actions. Once you reached your bedroom door, you opened it, pushing Thomas inside and then slipping in after him. You quickly locked it with the latch and then turned back to your utterly baffled friend.

Thomas had no time to question you any longer, because almost immediately after the door was locked your lips were on his. You tangled your fingers in his beautiful soft curls, which you had dreamed of touching ever since your teenage years. You kept kissing him for a few moments, until you realised that he wasn’t reciprocating, and your heart sank. Pulling away, you looked at Thomas, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open in bafflement.

This was it. You’d ruined everything. Thomas was just about to tell you that he saw you as a friend, a sister, that he couldn’t be kissing you like this. Or even worse, due to your little outburst, he might feel like the two of you could no longer be friends at all. Of course, the news would quickly spread to your parents when they realised that you and your former best friend were acting awkward around each other, and then—

To your complete and utter shock, Thomas cut off your thoughts by lunging forward, cupping your face in his hands and crashing his lips against yours.

Like Thomas had earlier, you found yourself unable to reciprocate, at least at first. Once you realised exactly what was happening, you were kissing Thomas back with more passion than you’d ever felt in your life. You’d never kissed anyone like this before, then again you’d never kissed anyone before period. As such it was quite clumsy, as Thomas’ tongue found entrance into your mouth, but still it was perfect. You wouldn’t have wanted this with any other man but him.

Your hands travelled down Thomas’ back as the kiss deepened even further, eventually settling on his backside and pushing him against you, feeling something hardening in his breeches even through the fabric of your clothing. You smiled into the kiss, though your knowledge of what went on between a man and a woman behind closed doors wasn’t very extensive, you certainly knew this was a good sign.

A rush of molten arousal flowed through your body at the feeling of Thomas’ erection pressed against you. Your arousal urged you to take things further, to sate your curiosity and the warm tingling in your lower stomach. You don’t feel entirely in control of your actions when one hand leaves Thomas’ backside in favour of slipping between your bodies, gently beginning to stroke his cock through the fabric.

Thomas lets out a shuddering moan at the feeling of you touching his clothed length. Involuntarily, his hips bucked into your hand, craving more of what you could give him. And you did your best to deliver, with gradually faster strokes that had Thomas burying his face into your neck to muffle the sinful moans that he couldn’t stop from slipping past his lips.

“Not yet,” Thomas said, strained, using all of his willpower to pull himself away from you. For a horrifying split second, you thought that Thomas would leave you here, so aroused and without any relief, but those fears were soon alleviated when he began to slowly move you towards your bed. He kissed your lips hungrily again and again, like he just couldn’t get enough of you. “Forgive me for being such a fool. I can’t believe I never realised how you felt about me. Or how I felt about you.”

“You mustn’t apologise, Thomas,” you said, as the two of you hastily began to unlace and remove each other's clothing. Getting Thomas naked was quite easy, compared to removing all of the many layers of your own garments. Both of your clothes are discarded carelessly in a crumpled heap on the floor. “We both know now, that’s all that matters.”

Once you’re bare, Thomas is completely unable to keep his eyes from roaming up and down your body appreciatively. He’d not seen a naked woman in person before - only in paintings and represented in sculpture - but you were far more beautiful to his eyes than any work of art that could be created. His already prominent erection twitched, as he found his mind overwhelmed with thoughts of what he wanted to do to you; to cover your body in kisses, to pleasure you until the only word you could remember was his name, to make love to you endlessly and bring you to the pinnacle of bliss.

Neither of you were quite sure about how or when you ended up on the bed, but it didn’t seem to matter once you were laying on your back against the pillows, gasping as Thomas’ lips and hands trailed down your body and left goosebumps in their wake. Curiously, he groped at your breasts, relishing in how soft they felt in his hands. Then, he decided to take one nipple into his mouth, sucking until it was hardened into a peak. He did the same to the other, making you whine, before he moved on.

Thomas’ kisses continued downwards until he found himself between your spread thighs, face to face with your glistening wetness. He felt an overwhelming urge to taste you on his tongue; though he had no experience with the act himself, Thomas had heard gossip of men driving women wild with arousal by using their tongues to pleasure them. He felt rather ashamed that he had occasionally touched himself to his recollections of those stories he had been told, to imagining a woman whining and writhing beneath him as he licked her sex until she was screaming. Thomas had ached to try it, so he wasn’t going to miss his chance.

Both of you moaned in unison when Thomas buried his face into your cunt, immediately delving his tongue inside of you to taste you from the source. His fingers dug into your thighs as he withdrew from your entrance and began to lick long stripes up the length of your pussy, noticing you seemed to react more when his tongue touched a little nub near the top.

As such, he began to focus all of his attention there. Thomas alternated between licking and sucking, simply following whatever seemed to make you cry out and tug at his hair the most, and he moaned when you did it, which also seemed to enhance your pleasure. You were babbling above him, and Thomas could feel you bucking your hips slightly in time with his ministrations.

“My God, Thomas, I…” You’d never felt like this in your life. You had touched yourself previously, hidden under your blankets in the dead of night, but it had never been like this. It had felt good, but right now you couldn’t even find the words to describe how you were feeling. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to spread your legs wider or clamp them around Thomas' head so his wonderful, glorious mouth would never stop pleasuring you. “Please don’t stop. Please. Thomas!”

And Thomas didn’t stop. He kept lapping at you until all of the tension in your lower stomach finally snapped, and the most incredible feeling of euphoria overtook your entire being. Thankfully you had the sense to take one of your pillows in your hands and press it over your face, to keep you from screaming so loud that everyone in the house heard you. You were practically sobbing, all thoughts gone from your mind other than those pertaining to Thomas and how he was making you feel. He continued until your body went limp, your legs falling down onto the bed in exhaustion.

You opened your eyes as Thomas rose up from between your legs, his lips and chin glistening with your wetness. You beckoned him up to you and as soon as he was within range, you kissed him fiercely, tasting yourself on him and moaning at the thought of the intimate act he’d just performed on you. Once you’d indulged yourself, you pulled back, staring deeply into Thomas’ eyes. “I want you to make love to me, Thomas.”

“W-we can’t, we’re not husband and wife,” Thomas protested, though he made no effort to move himself away from you, and you could feel his cock twitching against your leg at the thought of being inside of you. “It wouldn’t be right, think of your reputation…”

You lift a hand up to tenderly stroke your thumb against his cheekbone. “Thomas, I’ve loved you ever since I was a teenager. I want to marry you, and I think it’s only fair that since you’ve made such a mess of me, you should take responsibility and make me your wife.” You smiled, leaning up to gently peck him on the lips. 

“Oh, my dear. I’ve had these feelings for you deep inside me for so long, secret to everyone including myself until today. But now I know they have always been there. Of course I will marry you.” Thomas’ own hand came to stroke against your cheek, smiling and you with such adoration that you never could have hoped to see from him. That promise seemed to be the only convincing that Thomas needed, and after wrapping your legs around his waist, he slowly began to push his cock inside of you.

It was quite the stretch, you felt some stinging which led you to dig your fingernails into Thomas’ shoulder. He sheathed himself inside of you very steadily, both for your sake and his - you needed time to adjust, and he was sure he would meet his end too soon if he sped up even a bit. Once he was fully inside of you his face was pressed into your neck again as he whispered sweet praises against your skin.

“My darling, you feel heavenly,” he groaned breathlessly, kissing gently at your throat between each word. “I cannot wait until we’re married, and I can make love to you every morning and night. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling Thomas’ breath hitch at your words. You tightened your legs around him, hoping to give him a signal that you were ready. “Please move, I can’t take it anymore.”

Thomas gave a short nod, and then did as you bid him, starting to rock his hips against yours, making you shudder. It felt so incredible to have him inside of you, to have his body pressed completely against yours. To know that he was yours, and you were his.

Your mouths connected again and you explored each other’s mouths lazily as Thomas gently took you, your hands grabbing at his shoulders. The moans you let out were muffled by his mouth, and you did the same for him. Thomas’ hand stroked up one of your thighs, hitching it up higher on his hip which allowed him to reach deeper inside of you.

“I need to go faster, dear, may I?” Thomas asked, remarkably politely for someone in his current situation. You nodded vigorously, looking into his eyes almost as if you were begging him to do so. With your approval, he began thrusting into you more rapidly, making both of your moans come out louder. Even in your compromised state you knew that wasn’t acceptable - you needed to be quiet, regardless of how good you felt- and grabbed Thomas’ cheeks to pull him down into a passionate kiss, allowing you both to swallow the other’s moans.

Thomas’ hands were gripping your hips, squeezing them like he’d die if he stopped. Though he was attempting to keep up with your kisses, his repeated whispers of your name and “oh God” were making his task difficult. You didn’t know that much about your current activities, but judging by how Thomas’ rhythm was faltering and the way his cock was twitching inside of you, you were sure something was about to happen.

“M-my darling, I’m sorry… i-it’s too much…” Thomas stammered, before hastily pulling out of you. You didn’t even have time to question his actions before you felt him spill onto your stomach, panting and struggling to keep himself upright. But he was determined, and unwilling to leave you without a second high. His hand once again moved between your legs, his thumb rubbing against that place which had brought you so much pleasure before. With how sensitive you were, it took you all of a few moments to climax again, shuddering and gasping until you were completely spent.

Thomas collapsed onto the bed beside you, utterly exhausted. After taking a few moments to catch your breath, your eyes fell to your stomach, where he had spilt himself on you. Looking over to Thomas, you then swept one finger through it, before bringing it to your mouth and slowly sucking it off. You heard him take a sharp inhale at this action, his cheeks flushing an even brighter shade of red.

“Dear, you can’t do things like that. I cannot take it, I won’t be able to keep myself from wanting to take you again.” Thomas’ voice was deeper than usual, and you found you really enjoyed the way it sounded. 

“Would that be so bad?” you asked him, smiling devilishly, and he leaned over to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. When he pulled away, you could see the barely contained lust still in his eyes, and it made another wave of heat flow through you.

“We shouldn’t, my love. At least not until we’re man and wife.” As much as it pained you to wait so long to have him again, Thomas was completely correct. If you happened to get caught in the throes of passion, or God forbid, you ended up pregnant out of wedlock, it would probably ruin your life. So you would have to wait, but it would be so wonderful once you could be together again.

“So you really do want to marry me, then? You weren’t just saying that to get me into bed?”

“Of course not, what do you take me for?” Thomas gasped, absolutely scandalised, and you could hardly keep yourself from laughing at the expression on his face. “I meant what I said when I—”

“Only playing, Thomas,” you soothed, stopping another famous Thomas Thorne rant in its tracks. You moved over a little closer to him so you were able to rest against his shoulder, smiling yet again when he turned his head to pepper more kisses on your face.

You stayed like this for a while, almost having forgotten about everything outside of the room, including the get together that was currently happening just down the hall. As such, it was quite the shock when you heard a voice calling your name outside of your bedroom door, and you sat up abruptly, your heart nearly stopping. After the initial surprise, you recognised it as the voice of your father. He attempted to open the door, but finding it locked, he ceased trying after a few moments. “Y/N, are you in there?” he asked, and though you knew he couldn’t see you, you felt the need to cover yourself up.

“Yes, Father!” you responded obediently. “I’m sorry I rushed away… I was starting to feel a little bit lightheaded, so I decided to take a short lie down.”

“Do you need for me to call the doctor?” You could hear a tone of concern in his voice, and it made you smile.

“No, please don’t worry! I’m feeling much better now. Please give me a few moments, and I will be right back.” You stood up as quietly as you could, and began to pick up your clothing, wanting to get a head start on redressing.

“Of course.” You could hear his footsteps going back down the hallway, but he quickly returned a few moments later. “Now that I think of it, have you seen Thomas anywhere? He seemed to disappear around the same time that you did.”

You paused in your redressing to turn to Thomas, who had started to get dressed himself, having to stifle a quiet giggle. “No, I have absolutely no idea as to where he might be.”

[ticklishraspberries]

Movies Make Ticklers More Creative (Billy/Stu)

Summary: A bad horror film leaves Stu seeking entertainment in other forms, at the expense of Billy. (Thank you to the person who suggested I use the film Ghoulies as the movie in this fic!! Here is a YouTube link to the tickle scene in this movie, it is...Something for sure!! I haven’t seen the whole movie btw, just that clip as well as reading a few articles about it, so sorry if I’ve gotten any of the lore wrong. Regardless, it has an 8% on Rotten Tomatoes, so...)

As usual, Stu’s parents aren’t home, and he is filling the silence with the sounds of beer cans cracking open, hands rustling in the bowl of popcorn, girlish screams from the television speakers, and Billy’s commentary from the couch beside him.

After making their way through all the classic horror films, the boys have resorted to watching whatever they can find, whether they end up being fantastic deep cuts, or they absolutely suck, but joking about it makes it worth the watch.

Tonight’s movie is proving to be the latter. It’s a film called “Ghoulies” from ‘85, and it’s…Well, it’s keeping them entertained, for sure, but there is nothing disturbing (nor inspiring) about it. The scares are cheap, and the dialogue is atrocious.

Billy comments that the main chick, Donna, is kind of hot. Stu hums in agreement, but his heart isn’t quite in it. When the guy takes her out by the lake, though, their interests are piqued. This should be the part where Donna loses her chance of becoming the final girl, where she loses her virginity to the first schmuck who tries, and both the teens die a terrible death for daring to engage in premarital sex.

But that’s not what happens at all. Sure, it’s PG-13, but they were expecting at least a little action. But no, Donna and Mark stay fully-clothed and…Well, Stu snorts out a laugh as the kid starts tickling her instead of trying to bang her.

“This might be the worst movie that we’ve ever watched,” Billy says. His tone is deadpan, but there’s a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Oh, by far,” Stu agrees. “It’s not scary, and it’s not sexy. You can be missing one, but not both.”

Donna on screen is shrieking, begging Mark to stop tickling her. The scene feels eternally long, and since the screaming is that of laughter rather than fear, it feels much more ear-splitting than usual.

Stu looks over and sees Billy’s face screwed up in annoyance, and that sort of moping will just not do. Sure, the film sucks, but is good company not enough to make the guy happy?

“What a way to seduce a girl, eh?” Stu says, trying to crack some jokes and lighten the mood. “Tatum would nail me in the balls if I tried that.”

Billy just exhales through his nose in amusement, and Stu decides that isn’t enough.

“I mean, dude’s got no game. What did he say to her?”

“In the creepy voice? I dunno, I think he called her a little girl though, which is fucking weird.”

“Gross. She seems to like him, though. Maybe we should be taking notes,” Stu says, placing his beer down on the coffee table. They’re basically ignoring the movie by now, and he’s overcome with the strange desire to touch his best friend in that moment, to make him laugh like the girl in the movie, and that weird-ass scene gave him perfect inspiration on how to do so.

He and Billy have been friends since middle school, and Stu’s seen sides of him that no one else has. He’s pretty sure he’s the only person who has ever seen Billy cry, other than his parents. He’s the only person that knows Billy used to be scared of the dark, or that his mom had to sleep in his bed with him until he was ten because of that fear.

And, of course, he knows about the more fucked up shit that goes on in Billy’s head. He’s seen it first hand.

Stu also knows that Billy is ticklish, something he found out by accident and rarely used to his advantage, because last time he tried, he’d ended up with a pretty gnarly bruise on his jaw. But the risk seems worth it at that moment, so Stu takes his chances.

“Quit looking so miserable. The movie is shit, but I’m not,” Stu teases. Trying to mimic the weird, high-pitched voice the guy in the movie had adopted, he continues. “Cheer up, little boy!”

He reaches out a hand and prods at Billy’s stomach, which makes Billy shove at his hand with a suppressed huff of laughter.

“Fuck off,” he says.

Stu does not fuck off. Instead, he scoots closer on the couch, effectively trapping Billy between the arm of the couch and his body, and continuing to wiggle his long fingers against Billy’s stomach.

The light of the television illuminates Billy’s scrunched up expression, trying to hold back his laugh and seem pissed at Stu’s immaturity, but it only lasts a few moments before the bright, boyish giggles that are so unlike his personality come spilling out.

Stu grins in triumph. Billy’s actually sort of adorable when you get him like this: Guard down, acting his age, letting loose. He squirms like a fish on a hook, and Stu has to dodge his flailing limbs. His hair falls messily into his face, his cheeks look flushed.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you—” he grits out, but it doesn’t sound intimidating at all.

“No you won’t,” Stu replies. “You’d miss me too much.”

Billy lets out a noise somewhere between a growl and a whine, before dissolving into laughter again as Stu’s fingers dance up his sides. It isn’t until his ribs become a target that Billy truly fights back, grabbing at Stu’s wrists and trying to shove his hands away.

Stu takes that as a sign to back off, because although it was a risk he willingly took, leaving this without injury is still the preferable outcome. He watches with a grin as Billy catches his breath, arms wrapped protectively around his middle.

“You’re an asshole,” Billy says.

“I know,” Stu replies.

Their eyes meet for a moment, and Stu feels his face flush for reasons he isn’t quite ready to confront.

By the time they look back up at the screen, Mark and Donna are dead and they’ve completely lost track of the plot. Neither of them are complaining, because it was a fucking dumb plot to begin with. Leaving the crushed cans and empty bowl behind, the two boys climb the stairs and crash into Stu’s bed for the night, a common occurrence that somehow feels different this time, like something between them has shifted, just enough to make Stu’s heart skip a beat when Billy falls asleep with his face pressed into Stu’s shoulder.

Like this, he looks innocent. He looks beautiful.

Stu makes a mental note to research other horror films with tickle scenes in them, just in case he needs an excuse to hear that giggle again. Even if the movies suck, spending time with Billy is worth all the shitty scares in Hollywood.

[horizon-verizon]

Maybe this Will Put Things into Perspective about Rhaenyra & Cersei's Kids Being Bastards or Not...

Feudalism is an early period or a economic phase of a millennia-managed con against anyone who isn't a noble man, and most men are the active conmen.

Neither set of kids were ever declared bastards. Nor were they ever or "acknowledged" as bastards, because noblemen "acknowledge" a child they father onto another woman. noblewomen, in theory, can, but if their having had sex premaritally/extramaritally isn't already known outside of the household they do not. Because to do without it already being known (like with Alys Turnberry) would publicly ruin her prospects for marriage in the future, ruin her reputation, and likely muddy the family's as well.

Robert probably would have removed those kids from the line of succession had he known (and he didn't) if not outight remove them from the mortal coil. But instead, he got gutted. Therefore, Cersei's kids are not officially or "legally" bastards. That prior declaration is what is required to have them "legally" known as bastards.

Bastardry has always been more of a legal question in its nature than a biological fact of nature. Of course, we the audience and most of ther know that Rhaenyra's kids aren't Laenor's biologically; Ned correctly deduced that Cersei's weren't Robert's biologically. However, he was never able to get his information to matter "legally", or to get it to Robert to make a decision on. Whereas Laenor, Corlys, Viserys all knew and decided to maintain the boys as their heirs. And they made this decision based on the lack of knowledge the public has/what they can control. Which is often what any noble does; once again, GRRM has explicitly stated that the lords of Westeros often take advantage to twist "laws" (customs) according to the circumstances around them & their own desires, and it's is not exclusive to bastards already "acknowledged".

The purpose of marriage as an institution is entirely for the lord/nobleman's benefit. It is an institution that was created and developed entirely for a man's political interests (a father's, a brother's, a husband's, a son's, etc.). And it was made to consolidate/monopolize the noble woman's (or really any woman) body and reproductive labor so as to produce living products to pass on the resources/titles mainly the lord and his ancestors have aggregated. To try to make sure those resources are passed to the people the lord wants passed own to, the sexual purity culture imposed on women and girls works to construct shame & suppress female extramarital and premarital sexual activity, which is an aspect of her overall agency. Her agency is re-confined/socially reduced to her sexual activity because she has no other primary function nor legal privileges aside form being a wife, mother, daughter, virgin, etc. Or sometimes the protectoress of her husband's/son's assets: the castle at times of war/siege when the lord is not present; director of his household's activities and servants by being its head overseer of accounts. Therefore, the lord is literally claiming his wife as his effective property through her womb & this is often why when we see women like Daena sleeping with a man not her husband, it is an act of reinforcing her authority or political agency in spite of how she was raised to see her own body.

Think about it: why do we not have a world or society (fictional or not) where even though the wife births a child not her husband's the husband's do not willfully or are "legally" compelled to adopt that child as their own, effectively de-fathering the biological father? Because men want to feel as if they have as close to total ownership over female companionship and labor so they consolidate power to themselves and not to women. Having all these designations of gender and "bastardry" that everyone are compelled to follow makes that easier without expending energy or sharing power. Medieval customs put the social-legal identification of "bastard" from the institution of marriage, its compulsions on women, and their reproductive labor/bodies/uteruses being claimed by the men who are "licensed" to own them. Which is why when we say that neither Cersei's nor Rhaenyra's kids are "bastards" it is true, because the purpose of bastardry is to attempt to reclaim the product of reproductive labor and Viserys/Corlys/Laenor/Robert have already done that. To protest about how Robert didn't know about his kids not being his kids is really to protest how he didn't not get the products of Cersei's reproductive labor in the usual male-prioritized business of objectifying female labor that is intrinsic in this feudal society. Whereas Viserys/Laenor/Corlys accepted the products of Rhaenyra's reproductive labor.

All this is also why I really don't care for the impassioned argument of these women were being "unfair" to the system (Rhaenyra) or to their husbands, fathers etc. (Cersei) or them being "liars" or "destructive". Feudalism is itself an objectifying, unfair, unequal system. It is designed to benefit men and mainly men inherently, and directly at the expense of women who risk death itself while a man fathering any sort of kid never risks death. Men lie and destroy the women who birth their children, manage their household, protect their castle, rear their children....and it is all "licensed" and justified under the constructed institutions of marriage, oath-making, knighthood and principles of chastity, virginity, the different sub-meanings of "honor" for men vs women, etc. Men are themselves already objectifying or making an exclusive economic use of their female counterparts as well as going back on their vows (a deal that is still in feudal marriages, even for men) through their socially-allowed extramarital and premarital affairs producing bastards.