#some of you don't know how to behave and it shows man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunni-v1 · 21 days ago

Note

wellll since you are taking requests! Can I request Sylus, Caleb, and Zayne with a fem reader who's playful and loves to tease them in public but when their having sex, she's all shy and that?? <33 (I haven't requested something in such a long time, I forgot how this works 😭😭)

Don't Hide~

Pt. 2

🍓Baby, you fucking know you can. My little MC is exactly like this, so thank you soooo much for allowing me to write her vicariously through this ask. I have sooo much fun with brat taming, you have no idea, I should write it wayyyyy more. Anyway, I really tried not to let my favoritism for Caleb show here, but he still has more than the other two. Sue me, I love my man.

TW: Intense eye contact in Caleb's; Brat taming; cat ears mentioned but not relevant in Sylus' part; Sylus is crazy big; teasing; softcore otherwise; editing/grammar errors (i am one college student)

Info: Sylus, Zayne, Caleb x Reader (Separate); NSFW

Word Count(s): Zayne (1.2k); Sylus (1.2k); Caleb (1.5k)

MDNI

ZAYNE

You loved to just push, didn't you? It was an annoyingly charming part of you, one that Zayne just adored in most situations. Playful poking and prodding was part of your daily routine, something he expected and honestly needed from you. If you weren't causing some kind of problem for him, you weren't doing well. He would rather you annoy him than see you sad and quiet.

Still, you really could get under his skin when you tried. Bonuses of knowing each other so well, he guessed. Even framing it like a positive was hard when you were trying your very best to get him to react.

Having your arms wrapped around him was a more than welcome experience in most cases. He loved it when you were so openly affectionate in public; it made him feel better about how badly he wanted to hold you, too. What he was not a fan of was the way your sneaky little hands seemed to be creeping lower and lower down his back. It was cute, at first. Easily mistaken as a comforting gesture when your fingers drew themselves back up after dipping just a little lower.

Yet, they didn't stop dipping a little lower. Each stroke got longer, went further down his back, until your fingers were dancing along the hem of his pants. If that weren't bad enough, you were doing it in front of a colleague of yours. Tara, you'd excitedly introduced. Chirping along happily together like two birds of a feather, like you weren't pushing your luck with each passing second. You knew that, though, didn't you?

He shoots you the subtlest look when your hand hovers over his behind, a warning. One, you do not heed, clamping your hand down and pinching his cheek with a Cheshire grin. And he squeaks, despite expecting it, the feeling still takes him off guard. Your grin only widens, especially when Tara blinks in surprise.

"Are you okay, Mr. Li?" She asks, befuddled at how such a stoic man could make such a noise.

He clears his throat, glancing at you, less subtly, "Fine. We should be going, though."

"Aww," you and Tara pout at the same time, though yours is far less genuine than hers.

"Well, it was nice to see you. Have fun with the rest of your day!" She waves, skipping away, oblivious to the tension between you.

Zayne lets out a deep and heavy breath, annoyance leaving him all at once. His eyes zero in on your smirking face, expression even despite the intent clouding his green eyes. He tugs your hand away, wrapping it around his waist in a firm grip so you don't do the same thing again.

"You can't behave for a second, can you?" He sighs.

Another self-satisfied smirk, "It's not my fault you have such a cute butt! It's just begging me to grab it."

He hums, pulling you along with him without another word. He can feel the excitement rolling off you in waves, practically leaping and bounding at his side to get home. How obnoxiously adorable. Your ability to manipulate him into giving you what you want was admirable; he'll give you that. Besides, it's not as though he'd be the one feeling embarrassed by the end of the night, so he'd let you have your little victories.

He'd had you on your knees before the front door could even fully close. Shaky hands struggling with his belt, fumbling futilely a few times before finally wriggling it out enough to unzip his pants and slide his member out. It bobs uselessly in front of your mouth, begging for some semblance of friction. Naturally, as if magnetically attracted, you lean forward to take him into your mouth.

A firm hand stops you before you can, making your face scrunch up in confusion, fluttering up to his. The intensity in his eyes is enough to burn you up from the inside, heated and full of intent. You look away quickly, trying to ignore the heat searing beneath your skin. He doesn't allow you to run, gripping your chin and bringing your eyes back to him.

"Use your hands," He commands, "and look at me. Understood."

You nod, letting out a shaky breath. Not good enough.

"Words."

You swallow, "Yes, Zayne."

The grip on your chin softens, stroking the skin there as if apologizing for the roughness, "Good."

Your shaky hands come up, spitting on them for lubricant, then carefully wrap around his cock. Gentle, easy, practiced. You know what he likes, slow and easy. You watch the way your hands glide along his shaft, smiling when the sticky pre-cum coats your fingers. So pretty.

He clears his throat, and you correct your mistake like you've been Pavloved. Looking up at his flushed face, chest heaving, and body, eyes watching your every move. Nervousness tends to build up in your chest when he looks at you like that. No walls or hidden meaning, just sheer desire. You want to hide away from it, but you know he won't let you. All you can do is swallow the ever-growing lump in your throat and let your face burn hotter and hotter.

You watch his Adam's apple bob in his throat, rubbing your thighs together to alleviate some of the need between your legs. It's useless, as expected, and only serves to make you feel more pathetic. You don't stop, though, obediently tugging his member at an even pace. His breath grows more shaky with each stroke, mouth slightly ajar and puffing the hot air out unevenly. Much prettier.

His fingers trace along your chin, down the sensitive column of your neck, and back up again. Mirroring your movements from earlier, giving you a taste of your own medicine. It makes you shy away a little, flinching back when they dip between your collarbones. He spreads them out as he comes back up, pausing in the center of your throat and giving the smallest press, prompting you to swallow against them. He shudders when you do, having to use the door to keep himself upright.

He was close, so close. It made you want to speed up, but you don't. Not unless he tells you to.

"Are you sorry?" He suddenly asks, low and gravely, like it was hard to get out in the first place.

You bite your lip, shrinking into yourself as you mumble, "'m sorry..."

"Clearly," he commands, "or else I'll make you stop right now."

You jolt, shaking your head adamantly, "I-I'm sorry. I am! I promise, please?"

He scoffs a laugh, "Brat... open your mouth, now."

You comply, sticking your tongue out, and within a few moments, he's spurting out onto it. You lap up his release obediently, never breaking eye contact, no matter how much it drives you insane. The hand on your chin comes up to pet your hair, a silent praise for your good work.

"Did you learn your lesson?" He asks lowly, scratching your scalp gently.

You nod, proud to please. It's cute. Really cute. But he's not quite satisfied. With a low hum, he helps you off your knees, nudging you through the house on a straight path to the bedroom.

"Why don't we test that theory, then?" He whispers, a promise that you were in for a long night of behavioral correction.

SYLUS

Sylus was a tease at heart, always pushing your buttons and getting on your nerves with little to no effort at all. He'd admitted to you on more than one occasion that he found your feisty reactions positively adorable. You were his little kitten, after all, what kind of man would he be if he didn't get you swatting your claws at him?

However, teasing him was a difficult endeavor. One that you'd become an expert in. See, you couldn't just whisper sweet nothings into his ear or draw your hands along him sensually. He didn't react to that; he found it more funny than alluring. Calling you needy, which you weren't. No, if you wanted to get something out of him you had to be smarter than just sheer sex appeal.

You had to be cute.

Not so cute that you came off as childish and stupid, he would catch on to things too fast and ruin your fun. Just cute enough that it would get his heart racing, make him pause, and take a second to admire you. When he did that, you knew you got what you wanted.

Which is why you were walking hand in hand with him now, swinging your arm just slightly between your bodies. You were in some expensive shopping district, looking around for something to wear for a mission you were assigned to. He'd insisted on buying you a dress when you'd mentioned it offhand. Who were you to deny him the privilege of seeing you spin around in glittering dresses like a teenager picking out a prom dress?

You'd gotten a bit... off track, though. Purposefully, of course, not that he needed to know that. Excitedly bounding from shop window to shop window, gazing in at the silly souvenirs and cute little stuffed animals like a kid on Christmas. Sylus allowed you to tug him around, a soft smile on his face as you rambled about how cute that little teddy bear is, then in the same breath refused to let him buy it for you.

You stopped short when you came across a little standee outside of a costume shop, laughing at its contents. Cat ears of various types hung on the little turnstile, the perfect killer. You bounded up to it, scanning across the different types before plucking two off the rack. You turn back to Sylus then, a giddy smile as you show him your little treasure, lifting it up with pride.

He leans down without another word, letting you set the white pair on his head. His eyes softening when you clap your hands. You know you've got him right where you want him. You just needed the finishing blow. You set the second pair on your head, pointing your chin to the sky like a proud lion.

He smirks at the sight, petting your head like he would a regular cat, "Aren't you cute?"

You bite your lip, going in for the throat, "Now I really am your kitten, huh?"

He pauses, visibly processing your words and realizing just what you were up to. A scoff tumbles out of his mouth, eyes rolling from the sheer idiocy. He'd fallen for your cutesy little antics, again, just like he always did. Steady fingers grip your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes settled on him.

"I wasn't aware she was so prone to misbehavior. Tell me, are you looking for punishment, kitten?" He purrs lowly.

Mission successful, "I'dunno what you mean, Sy..."

Riding Sylus always felt impossible thanks to his incredible size. You always managed to fit it, but it was more than just a little fight. This is what you asked for, though. Your little cry for attention earlier rewarded with a brand new pair of cat ears, and Sylus’ lazy smirk as you struggled to adjust to him.

Your hands weakly kneaded at his chest, trying to ground yourself from the intensity of the stretch. He merely watched you, red eyes drawing across your figure slow and steady, pleased to have you on display for him. His calloused hands rested at your waist, thumbing over the skin there in approval as you settled down.

It was impossible to hide from him like this, making the burning sensation across your body all the more apparent. You just couldn’t help but be embarrassed at the way he seemed to drink you in, savoring you with every sense at his disposal. You were sure he had a secret sixth one made just to relish in your humiliation. Yet, he does not say a word to shame you or make you feel less than. Just watches and appreciates you as you are.

Somehow, that was worse than degradation, melting your mind to a mushy pile of nervousness.

Still, you’d practically begged for this, and as always Sylus had given it to you as you wished. You wouldn’t want to disappoint both of you, so you took a deep breath and began rolling your hips. Slow little circles at first. Unsure, but gradually building as you grew more comfortable in your place on top of him.

Each movement set your nerves alight, sending shocks of pleasure across each inch of your skin. The heat building in your core, spanning across every nook and cranny of your body, wrapping you in a blanket of warm pleasure. Sylus seems to track it with his eyes, drawing up from the sensual roll of your hips, to the way your muscles tense, across your bouncing tits, and landing on your scrunched up little face.

You could practically hear him purring — no, he was purring. A low grumble shaking his chest, traveling through your trembling fingertips and sending the signals directly to the heat between your legs. To be admired so much was just too much for you to handle right now.

You lean over him, tucking your face into his shoulder. It’s a weak attempt to hide at best, not that you’d be able to hide no matter what you did, but you make it all too easy for him to pull you up with a gentleness that seemed too loving for the moment. All too Sylus as he eased your pouting visage back into his line of sight.

“Running away already?” He coos, fingers massaging your neck as if placating you.

You’re far too embarrassed to argue with him, so you just nod, “It’s too much.”

He hums, mocking thought as he takes in your weak excuses. You’re far too cute for him to know what to do with, but he would figure it out, “Do you need my help, kitten?”

In the second of clarity you have, you debate telling him no. Yet, he twitches inside of you when you open your eyes to take in his all consuming stare, and the thought evaporates from your mind. You do need his help, very badly. You’ll probably burn alive between the scorching pleasure and his fiery gaze without him there to placate the flames.

You give him a weak little teary eyed nod, and he eases your face back into his shoulder. He was always so accommodating with you, so gentle and loving that it made your stomach tie into knots. Only forgetting the feeling when he helped to work you along his length, humming sweet words of praise into your ears, letting you hide away from him all you wanted. That’s what you wanted after all, right?

CALEB

Teasing Caleb was an art form that only you had mastered. You would think that after knowing someone for so long, it would be easy to rile them up. Yet, Caleb was the most controlled man you had ever met when it came to handling your light-hearted jabs. Part of it was thanks to how well he knew you, but the other part was simply because he was good at ignoring his own feelings. He could push and push and push them down to the depths of his mind until they were practically non-existent, and your teasing was no different.

The most you'd get for your efforts was a smirk, maybe a ruffle of your hair as he scolds you, and if you were really annoying, he would chase you around the house and tickle you for your crimes. Rarely was it anything more intense than that.

Rarely. Not never.

There was one way to get Caleb hot and bothered enough to do something, and that was your favorite game of all time: Look, don't touch. It was fun to see just how far you could get, doing all his favorite things with an air of innocence, just to see how long it would take to get him to crack.

Your personal favorite method of torture was to find a shirt of his - dirty, preferably - slide it on and walk around the house with nothing but it and a lacy pair of red panties. (His favorite, judging from how often they go missing from the laundry.) It's a long game you have to play, because winning against Caleb's disciplined ability to pretend was always a long game. Luckily, you were just about the one weakness in his mental fortitude.

You start in the morning before he leaves for work, or else it won't work. If he's at home all day, he'll just take care of it without thought. You walk out of the room, and his eyes catch on your legs. They rake over the exposed skin like trying to burn it into his memory, as if he hadn't done that a million times before. Then, like clockwork, he realizes what he's doing and tries to look anywhere but you as you waltz around. Knowing he has a responsibility that he can't skimp on, even for you, keeps him stiff and robotic as you kiss him goodbye.

Then, step two kicks in: text him frequently. Keeping yourself at the forefront of his mind (which you always are, mind you) and letting him know you're thinking of him makes him squirm in a way that's unbefitting of a soldier. He can't stop himself from thinking about your legs, the way his shirt rested against your body, and what was beneath it. Waiting, begging him to get a peek as you stretched your arms over your head. His eye twitches when you send him yet another suspiciously worded text - never incriminating, but always implicative.

Then, when his shift is nearly over, when you spent your whole day playing coy, you reach the final phase of your plan. You send pictures. Nothing explicit. That would ruin the fun of it all. Just cute, mundane tasks. A downward angle of you cooking dinner, reading a book on his bed, or maybe just a picture of a movie you're watching with your bare legs in view. All visual reminders of what he left at home, all reminders of why he needs to get back now.

Normally, Caleb prefers you to tell him what you like in bed. He's soft, attentive, a little sloppy, but entirely obsessed with your pleasure. It's not as though he's neglecting that part of himself, quite the opposite, actually. You were the one who had made it abundantly clear that you wanted- needed him to put you in your place. He knows your little games, he knows you like no other person on the planet - in the galaxy, hell, the entire universe.

So, of course, he knew you wanted him to fold you in half and show you what happens to misbehaving, teasing little pipsqueaks like yourself for all your efforts. Who was he to deny you of what you'd been begging for all day? Wouldn't that make him a bad Caleb? It almost means that the way he makes you look at him, knowing full well that the eye contact sends you into a flurry of embarrassment. He's just so... intense, in every sense of the word, especially when he's having sex with you.

One leg bent up to your head, the other wrapped around his waist, and two strong arms boxing your head had you surrounded. Chest to chest, buried to the hilt, there was no escaping the little prison of pleasure Caleb had built for you. Your reward equaled your punishment, and you wished you could complain, but you knew your voice would catch in your throat and Caleb would tease you for it. You had no choice but to sit there and look up at him, hoping he'd be a little nicer than you were to him today.

His eyes are hot as they trace along the planes of your face, eating up the sight like his last meal on earth. The subtle shift in his expression as you squeeze around him, feeling the intensity of his gaze far more deeply than you'd ever admit out loud. His eyebrows twitch up in surprise, before a lazy smirk crawls over his face, leaning down to kiss along the apple of your cheek to the shell of your ear.

"Y'know," He starts in a low drawl, sending your head spinning, "If you want me to take care of you, you can just ask."

You shake your head, though there isn't a real purpose for it. You're just a little too flustered to think right when he's got you like this. His dominance really is something all-consuming, and it reminds you why you don't tease him like this often. You would be a dead man if you had to put up with his relentlessness every time you had sex.

"No?" He asks, as if he's confused, but the condescension in his voice gives him away.

He adjusts himself slightly, rubbing against your walls just enough to get you to tremble a little. Then, all at once, he pulls himself out to the tip and pushes his way back inside in a fluid motion, "You don't want me to do that? Then tell me what you need, won't you?"

You whimper, tossing your arms on your face like that might help you here. Nearly forgetting how easily he overpowers you in your hazy headspace until he seamlessly pulls your hands over your head, interlacing your fingers as if they belonged together.

"No, no, no. None of that, you gotta look at me, 'kay?" He hums so sickeningly sweet it makes you want to swing at him.

A whine tears through your throat, tossing your head to the side to bury into his arm. Defiant and bratty to the end, as always. He huffs out a laugh that's all too affectionate for how annoying he was being, then chases your face with his own. You feel the warm press of his sweat-slicked forehead against yours, heated breath fanning over your face. You don't budge, not even when he nudges your nose with his own as encouragement.

He's reaching the end of his limited patience; you can feel it in the way his fingers tremble around your wrists. He could hold back all day when you weren't physically near him, but he was inside you for god's sake. Any man - well trained soldier or not - would collapse under the extreme pressure of a nice warm pussy. Your nice warm pussy was simply one of the greatest weaknesses he had, second only to your oh so pretty eyes he was being deprived of right now.

"Pips," He whines, voice uncharacteristically squeaky, "Lemme see your pretty eyes, yeah?"

You curl your hands into tight fists, trying and failing to fight him off one last time. A little voice in your mind reminds you of how mean you were to him today. Listen to his voice, he needs you just as bad as you need him. It's okay to give in, Caleb will take care of everything, it whispers so sweetly. You can't refuse its logic, not when it seems so totally right as he twitches inside you again.

You slowly peel your eyes open, nearly jumping at the way he's staring so intently at you. Brows worried, lip caught between his teeth, and pretty purple eyes darting across your face. You expect some kind of comment from him, some words of praise or thanks, but all you get is his hips pulling back and slamming back into you. It gets your toes curling instantaneously, a moan ripping from your vocal cords in surprise.

You shouldn't be, though. This is what you wanted. Caleb was just giving it to you. He would always give it to you.

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dmitriene · 5 months ago

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based on the request from my inbox.

cw: size kink, reader mostly described as petite.

könig is so obsessed with the size difference between you both it's almost laughable, through you don't have time to tease him about it, not with the way he almost clings to you and uses every opportunity of your admiring words about his body to show how much bigger than you he really is, so you better hold back from talking about it at all, liebling, even if it doesn't really help.

he's acutely aware of how much bigger than any average men his body are, with his brawny chest and the pumped lines of his body filled with coiled, hard muscles, his meaty thighs, the height that helps him tower over the people easily, even through often his head knocks against the jamb of the doors, leaving occasionally growing bumps on his forehead.

but it's nothing, tiny nuances that cannot be compared with the all fulfilling excitement that courses through könig at the knowledge that he can so easily manhandle you, scoop your dainty body up and seat you on his forearm, it's not important at all what your height is, how much you weight, for him, you're small like a pretty bunny and light as a feather, made to sit in his arms with your legs swinging around, as you decorate his rugged, smug grinning face with light pecks from your pouty lips.

könig often does that silly thing of comparing, as if trying to brag, holding your palm against his, enormous, calloused and scarred, able to encompass the entirety of your diminutive, soft hands, carrying you all around like you're some kind of not independent, lap pet, sometimes cruel, too, slapping his engorged, fat cock over your sensitive, weepy pussy, cooing at the way your folds flutter beneath, making your whole body seize and shudder, twitching violently with a wet, needy whimper.

you kick your legs in his chest, whining at the boyish, bursting laughter könig let's out, nudging his leaking, bulbous tip against your clenching, gaping little hole, watching the way you tilt your hips, chasing the feel of his cockhead rubbing up and down, catching on your slick soaked, parting lips, breaching in inch by inch, leaving your throat seizing around a loud, crying keen as he plunges you full with throbbing heaviness of him, fingers fanned out along the curve of your pulling tummy, impaling you in rhythm of his rough, pummeling thrusts.

könig is absolutely impossible to endure, he can't behave, not with how absolutely struck he is by you, by how adorable you are, sweet like a hilfloses, kleines tier, and even through it's sounds not as attractive he hoped to, his words still make your chest tighten, all fluttering inside, so you forgive his sneaking, mapping hands all around your curves, digging in your hips, kneading at your perky ass, tucking you beneath his heavy, draping hand.

you're neither can expect him to act properly when your parents invite you for a dinner in their house, dying to meet your boyfriend, not knowing that this seemingly charming, polite man with brightest, innocent cerulean eyes would take you apart in your childhood bedroom, he's been utterly respectful during the dinner, until you decided to show him upstairs, which led to your cunt being split open by his pounding cock.

each strained, blabbering mewl and gasp silenced by the pillows you burrow in, könig's gravelly voice whispering salacious, cooing praises, he's just so smitten for you, and you can't complain, not when he fucks all your protests out of your mind, enough so you'll be just a pliant, petite thing in his arms.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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barbieaemond · 2 years ago

Text

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn’t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos."

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror.

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

#likiri #liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond x wife reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x wife reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond fic #aemond smut #hotd fic

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luvly-writer · 6 months ago

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Is it a Wonder I Broke?

Batfamily x Neglected! Reader

Author's note: I really did NAWT want to write a two parter but hey, I should have expected it with how much I write. I am so new to writing angst but I've had a thirst for writing and reading angst lately and I just NEEDED to cure it!!! ENJOY

Warnings: The Bats being kinda shitty, Neglect

Part 1 // Part 3

---

Damian was sure something was missing. He woke up that day and as he had breakfast, he had noticed something odd about Alfred. There was a certain sadness in his eyes that Damian couldn't place. None of them had gotten injured in last night's patrol. Jason's deathaversary (as he loved to call it) wasn't near. No one had fought, quite the contrary, he'd say this has got to be one of the weeks where they had best behaved and gotten along. Even Bruce and Jason were relaxed. So what plagued the man? Damian looked around the house and wondered what could be the problem. Maybe he was tired? Or Sick? That could be it. Sensing the young man's gaze on him, Alfred erased all emotion from his face and looked at Damian questioning.

"May I help you with something, Master Damian?" he asked with a raised brow. Damian inspected him thoroughly and hummed.

"You are different, Pennyworth" observed Damian and the butler gave the boy a deadpan. Nop, he's good, never mind. Maybe he was just thinking something unpleasant and it showed in his face.

And yet, the feeling didn't leave Damian. There was something odd in the house. Thankfully, it was Saturday, so he had the rest of the day to walk around and investigate. He had visited the gardens, and overseen the entirety of the first and second floor, yet nothing came to mind. What the fuck was wrong in this damn house?

He had decided to empty his mind in the art room. There, he spent the rest of his afternoon sketching a portrait of some plants he had seen in the garden. His 16th birthday was soon approaching and he really needed to get some new art supplies. The ones he had were old and very worn out. As he finished, he noticed the time and realized he had spent the majority of the day in the art room. He had gone to clean his hands and headed to the cave to suit up, hoping tonight's patrol would clear his head. What was missing?

So into his thoughts, Damian hadn't noticed the rest of his siblings down at the cave suiting up as well.

"Hey, Littlewing! What's got you looking so constipated?" Asked Dick with a hint of humor in his tone.

"Have any of you noticed that the manor feels rather odd?" he questions as he suits his boots up.

"What do you mean, bat brat?" Asked Jason raising his eyebrow.

"The manor, it feels….odd. As if something is missing. It feels emptier and I can't help but ask why. Not only that, have any of you noticed Pennyworth looking….strange lately?" He questioned and the group fell into silence, all thinking of his observation.

"Now that you mention it, Alfred has been looking a little tired lately. Like, you know, as if his age is kinda showing." Tim recounted

"And he has had this sort of sad glaze in his eyes" Steph added.

"It's not my deathaversery, I can assure you that" hummed Jason.

"And no other impacting date is near, so what could have caused him any sort of discomfort?" Asked Dick.

The group looked at each other, clueless about what could have caused their beloved butler and grandfather to feel odd.

"You don't think he might be sick and is hiding that from us?" Asked Duke

"But why would he be sad about that?" Barbara question.

Plagued with the heaviness of confusion, none of them noticed the patriarch of the family arrive all suited up and looking at them.

"Is everyone ready?" sounded Bruce's deep voice snapping everyone out of their thoughts. They all nodded still a little bit distant and lost. Bruce, not wanting to push his kids, nodded and clapped his hands to gain their full attention. "Tonight we have a slow night as it seems. Everyone has their patrol route, let's hope that we can be already finished by 2. Everyone, dispatch.

It was a relatively slow night. So much so, that it had allowed them to goof around a little as they went on. Midnight had arrived and Damian was crouched next to his father as they overlooked the city. He could hear Jason, Stephanie, and Dick joking around in the back and smiled a little as they laughed. That's when he felt it. The lingering gaze in the shadows. Surely, he looked up to his father who had felt it as well.

His mother.

After years of being separated from her and getting only a handful of visits, he had gotten used to her gaze when she was lingering, watching him. He knew it was her. Damian stood up and turned towards his left and there he saw her. Black, gold, and green armor shining in the night. The sudden silence told him that his siblings were on high alert as well. What could Talia want?

She finally noticed their gaze on her and began running. This alerted every one of them.

"Oracle, send Red Robin and Orphan our coordinates. We encountered Talia Al Ghul and are on the move." Ordered Batman

"Copy that, B." Answered Barbara in their comns.

What did the League of Assassins want now? If they meant no harm, she wouldn't have run, so what happened?

They followed Talia as she led them farther from the city and closer to the harbor. As they went, he noticed that more assassins made themselves visible and surrounded them and that alone raised his suspicions even more. Normally, when his mother wanted to talk to him, she came alone. Why were they here?

Finally, she stopped in front of a boat…the same one where I met my father…WITH Y/N. Damian came to a sudden halt. That is what was missing! He tries to think back on the past few weeks and he couldn't conjure up the slightest memory of seeing his sister. As a matter of fact, he hadn't seen her in the past few months…Where was Y/n? Was that why Pennyworth looked distressed? Why did he just notice now?! Had he been so busy that he couldn't recall his sister? No….that's imposible. She probably has been in practice. She was busy with her own life as well. Especially now, that it was getting closer to the Ice Skating National Competition. He had been keeping tabs on her competition schedules. Yeah, that was probably it. Any time a competition got closer, she would either be locked in their home rink or her practice rink making sure it was perfect. Yeah, that had to be it. She probably left early, was busy in practice, and came during the time he was in the art room or getting ready. Damian wanted to believe that..he really did, but something was nagging at him in the back of his mind. Why would Alfred be sad at that? Had she gotten hurt in practice? Ice skating meant the world for Y/n so that was probably it. Alfred adored watching her skate. Per Damian's request, he would record her practices and competitions so that once he got back from a mission and patrol, he could watch her. She was truly wonderful. That could have been it. She got hurt before Nationals and had been resting in her room lately. That could be why Damian had not seen much of her in the last few weeks. Before that, he had stayed a few months with the Titans, so that could also explain the lack of memories in the past year o so. That was the logical conclusion, right? But if she was hurt, why did Pennyworth not mention anything? He would have to ask him when he arrived later because now he was concerned for his sister's health.

He looked forward and realized that all of them had stopped further. He ran and reached his father's side. Observing his surroundings, he noted that there were 10 or so assassins on both of their sides. Why would his mother need so many?

"Ah, Damian, finally, you are here," Talia spoke up with her back to them. If she was a threat, she wouldn't be giving them her back. Ras taught them better than that.

"What are you here for, Talia?" questioned Bruce.

"Well. Beloved, I have come to extend an invitation, per my daughter's request" She smiled turning around to look at them fully, "I had to lure all of you out here so that we could settle this private matter without the sounds of the city." she explained.

"My sister is resting back in the manor, Mother, what could you mean?" Damian questioned narrowing his eyes at her.

"Is that what you all believe, my dear?" She smirked and watched each of their reactions one by one.

"Where is our daughter, Talia?" Asked Bruce slowly

"You mean to tell me that MY daughter was left under your care and you have no clue where she is?" asked Talia, venom slipping into her words. "Is that what you are letting me know, Batman?"

"Our daughter is safe in the manor" Bruce answered. Damian looked at him and if he wasn't doubtful himself, he probably would have believed him.

"Well, that's not entirely true, beloved. Y/n has not been living in the manor for almost two years now." Talia corrected and everyone froze. "Can't believe you would lie to my face like that"

Jason, Dick, Tim, Stephanie, and Cassandra looked at Bruce expetantly. Surely what Talia said can't be true. They all take a moment to digest the information. Y/n was in the manor, right?

Tim tried to look back but he couldn't think of a moment he had seen her. He lived in the manor as well for fuck's sake. Had he been too busy with Wayne Enterprises and Red Robin that he hadn't noticed his sister's absence? Then again, Y/n was always training so it was difficult to tell….or was it?

Dick and Jason looked at each other. They didn't live in the manor anymore but surely, they had seen her at dinners. Y/n rarely spoke up so she could have been there but they just didn't notice? But as far as they can remember, Y/n loved to talk about her competitions in the hope that they would be able to go to one. They thought she had finally given up on asking them….and that left a bitter taste in their mouths. Why had she all of a sudden gone silent?….or was she just not there at all?

Cassandra had noticed what Damian had said earlier. The Manor had felt different. It seemed as if one presence was lacking but she was constantly with Stephanie so it was rather difficult to keep up on the whereabouts of her life. Besides, Y/n was always training…

Bruce stiffened. Where..was..his..daughter? Since when had she not been living in the manor? When did that happen? He had noticed that Alfred had gone out less and figured Y/n began transporting herself to her things, but that was odd because the old man loved taking her. It was the one moment where Bruce could tell he had peace. Y/n had always been such an independent child from a young age. She didn't need the same training as Damian because she abandoned that life once she was in Gotham. He was truly so glad that she wouldn't follow in his footsteps, that she had chosen to be normal. When was the last time he had seen her come to dinner? When was the last time he heard her songs blasting from her room? When was the last time she used her rink? He would always watch footage of her through Alfred's recordings and the security cameras installed in the ice rink. He still remembers the day he surprised her with it. "I didn't think you'd even know" she whispered thinking he hadn't heard, but he did and those words had plagued his mind ever since then like a broken record. Why wouldn't he know? Sure they were all busy but they cared for her.

"Oracle, search footage of all of the security cameras in the past two years. Find anything and everything about Y/n."

"Right on that, B."

"What invitation does Y/n have for us, mother?" Asked Damian, unsure whether or not he wanted to hear the answer.

"To her coronation as the new Heir to the Demon Head and Future Leader of the League of Assassins, of course" She answered almost instantly.

…

"WHAT!" yelled Damian. Everyone felt their blood run cold, "My sister, my beloved twin sister, would never NEVER desire that. You must not be serious! Y/n Wayne Al Ghul has never EVER wanted to be like grandfather. She is better than that. She is too good for the Demon Head. I was the one trained to be the heir an-"

"And you weren't the only one trained. Have you forgotten that both of you endured the same training and whilst your grandfather disciplined you, I was disciplining her." interrupted his mother harshly. "Y/n moved back to the League a year and a half ago and has been training endlessly to become the next Leader of the League, Damian. You would have all known that had you chosen to not neglect my daughter. She is safe and well-"

"My sister will NEVER be happy-"

"Because you know her oh so very well, my son?" Talia let her gaze linger on her son. Her disappointment was palpable. He had failed to be there for his twin….

"Nightwing, Red Hood, do one last round on the city, then head to the cave. The rest of you, you are dismissed. Head straight to the came, now. Especially, you, Damian. I have to speak with your mother first." Batman's left no space for argument. They all nodded and left, aside from Damian.

"Father-"

"Go, Robin"

"Father, this is just my problem as it is yours"

"To the cave, now. We will discuss this later."

Damian wasn't happy with the outcome, but one look at his mother and father; and he knew he wouldn't want to be part of this discussion when he had many important matters to attend to.

Once Damian left, Bruce turned to Talia.

"Tal-"

"You neglected my daughter-"

"Our-"

"MY daughter. You spent six years ignoring one child and favoring the other and you THINK you can make demands and look at me as if I have done something wrong? I went to her practices, I went to her competitions, I visited on their birthday every. fucking. Year. Bruce, I may not be the example of motherhood, but at least I was as present as I could be and I didn't even live with her." She hissed at him coldly.

"This is different, she wanted to be a professional ice skater. I know my daughter well enough to remember that. Damian is right. Becoming the Leader of the League of Assassins will never make her happy-"

"Because you know her so well? Bruce, I believe in what Y/n can bring to the League. She has astounding potential as a leader. She is levelheaded and diplomatic, she understands my father's ideal and vision without a vengeful eye. Unless you intend to be supportive…Do not cross her path. I came here to extend the invitation per her request as cordiality, not because I planned to. It will be a week after her birthday. I will not repeat myself. Farewell, Batman"

"Talia" Bruce tried, but she was already gone.

---

Author's note: Well fuck it's gonna be three chapters. I swear, part three will BE THE LAST ONE!!! I SWEAR!!! I HAVE ANOTHER ONE SHOT THAT I WANNA WRITE DAMN

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sourpeachsayshi · 2 months ago

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minors - ageless - blank blogs dni - cw: daddy kink; daddy!dom; age gap

it was the build up to the moment that did it - the fact that you're with a man who is just so firm, so doting, so caring. kento won't let you lift a finger for a thing. he guards you like you're his to protect. if you could describe kento with just one word, it would be strength. because it was a trait that he carried over in every possible aspect of his life.

and you just couldn't stop fixating on that fact, and how it made your heart and pussy pulse with affection.

you didn't even hear yourself say it when it happened. you were so delirious being loved up with nanami's fingers and mouth working the space between your legs. he kept edging you, and edging you - wanted to see how well you could hold out for him. and when he permitted you to let go of the reigns, the words came out as a soft whimper once your orgasm flooded through your body.

"mmph, uh... thank you, daddy.~"

nanami perked up so fucking fast.

"what did you just call me?"

when the realization hits, you find yourself flushed with heavy embarrassment. your eyes prick with tears, your mouth going dry as you stammer excuses. you don't want him to think you are a freak or something but you're completely tongue tied as you try to explain what motivated you to call him that, stuttering "it's not-not like that..."

but your words carry as much weight as air. and it really doesn't help that your boyfriend is also older than you.

the tips of kento's ears are fucking hot. it's not like he's oblivious to this particular kink - it just wasn't his thing. hell, before you, nanami never really dated women who were younger than him. but you triggered something in him when that word came out of your mouth.

he runs his fingers through his blonde strands, and ponders it for a second before leaning in to kiss your forehead and your lips, and shushes you to quieten down. "it's okay, baby, it's okay," he soothes, "there's no need to be embarrassed. it happens, right?"

his dick is hard, and once he calms you down he is able to slip his cock between your wet folds again. your chest heaves slightly, a little sniffle leaving you as your lashes flutter close to hold back your tears.

nanami's hands are on your pelvis, dragging back and forth over the slope of the curve. "feel better?" he soothes, keeping an even rhythm as he sees your body grow softer with every thrust.

you nod your head, and find the courage to correct yourself. "thank you, kento..."

he bites his bottom lip, and holds back a smile. you're always so polite with him in the bedroom, he thinks it's fucking adorable. he thrusts a little harder, making you whimper to grab your attention. he buries himself deep inside you, halting all his movements. when you notice, you open your eyes to catch his stare, your cheeks stinging.

"come again?" he asks.

"I-I said thank you..." you answer innocently.

"I heard."

you look down at where your bodies connect, furrowing your brows in confusion and attempt to move yourself to get some relief, but kento just grips onto you tightly.

he rolls his hips teasingly, "you don't have to call me by my name. I know you what you want to say..."

there's a lump in your throat instantly. and you part in your lips in surprise as your heat races. "I...I can't..."

"oh, darling," your lover continues, a wicked tone highlighting that devilish smirk, one that's so sinful it looks foreign on that handsome face. he rocks back to drag his length out of you, then pushes in achingly slow. "I heard how it sounded. heard how turned on you were saying it..."

he picks up the pace of his movements, his words relentlessly egging you on. "you're just showing me how grateful you are, right? showing me that you you're happy with how I take care of you..." he offers in a tender voice. "making me proud that my girl is so well behaved..."

you whine, your hand fisting the bed sheet underneath you when you realize what your lover is actually doing. "oh my god..."

he tuts, "m'not asking for your prayers right now, sweetheart..."

the noise that comes out of you is broken as he returns to his original pace, fucking you exactly the way you like.

"please don't stop..."

"who are you asking?"

"you..."

"who?"

he's persuading you with his body and his words, and it makes your toes curl as you feel the title sit on the tip of your tongue.

"you, daddy~" you whine, as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"use your words..." he scolds light heartedly.

"daddy, please don't stop~ it feels really good..."

"that's my girl," he grunts with desire, his arousal hitting a new peak. he flashes you his pearly whites, watches your body melt into a puddle of lust. "we are going to have so much fun with this, princess..."

#[whispers.༉‧₊˚🕯️ ]#I have SO many thoughts about daddy!dom kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #I kind of imagine the gap where reader is in her late late twenties-30 #and nanami is in his early 40s #But I didn't want to specify an age

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getmeoutofhell · 2 months ago

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Slashers Possessive/Yandere HC

Includes: jennifer check, horny the clown, billy loomis, stu marcher, ethan landry, bo sinclair, hannigram, thomas hewitt, jeepers creepers, art the clown.

Warnings: the title speaks for itself!! gifs are not mine credits to the owners.

ʲᵉⁿⁿⁱᶠᵉʳ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ:

She is extremely possessive of you. After all, she is Jennifer Check—whatever she wants, she gets, and that includes you. In public, she is very touchy and won’t let you go or even allow you to think about leaving her. She will go to great lengths to hurt anyone who makes her feel threatened when it comes to you. When she’s in her demon form, it gets even worse; she grabs your arm and drags you around in public, making sure everyone knows that you belong to her. While she knows she is attractive and could have anyone she wants, she only wants you.

ʰᵒʳⁿʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒʷⁿ:

It depends on his mood that day, but most of the time, Archie tries to keep you close. He is someone who needs constant comfort; if you're not around, he becomes increasingly unstable. He is jealous and possessive, wanting you to stay with him at all times. Don't leave his sight, or he might harm someone you care about. He will feel bad for making you cry, but ultimately, he just needs you by his side. You are the only one who truly sees the real him, and he will always appreciate that.

ᵇⁱˡˡʸ ˡᵒᵐᵐⁱˢ:

He’s completely possessive, I’m sorry—well, actually, I’m not. Billy is full of ego and pride, and whenever you spend time around someone of the same gender as him, he feels as if you’re trying to make him jealous. He yells when it’s just the two of you, making it clear that he doesn’t want you to do that again. It’s not like you mean to upset him; he’s just very sensitive and fragile about it. Despite that, he does show you love in his own rough way in the end.

ˢᵗᵘ ᵐᵃʳᶜʰᵉʳ:

This poor boy is incredibly loving and caring. However, beneath that exterior, he does exhibit some controlling tendencies. He may not show it openly, but there are moments when you can notice a shift in his behavior, leading you to ask questions. He consistently responds with, "I'm fine," when, in reality, he is seething with anger. If you’re not careful, it might not be safe to be around him for long, and you'll find yourself stuck in an uncomfortable situation until he feels he can trust you again.

ᵉᵗʰᵃⁿ ˡᵃⁿᵈʳʸ:

I could go on for hours about how he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. This boy is a demon, I tell you. He’s very manipulative and jealous of everything you do. If there’s another boy around, he will get rid of him without hesitation; in fact, it’s a bit strange. His anger isn't rare, surprisingly; it's quite common. He does try to hide it, but it never really works out. You can see every time how the sparkle in his eyes disappears when someone gets too close to you. He may act shy, but he’s far from it.

ᵇᵒ ˢⁱⁿᶜˡᵃⁱʳ:

You can probably guess what I’m going to say, and you’d be right: he is possessive of you. He sees you as his property that he must protect and keep others away from, which even includes his brothers. He can get quite loud if he feels one of them is flirting with you too much. While he understands them, he doesn’t want them to overdo it. He’s a busy man, which means you’ll likely spend a lot of time at home until he feels comfortable letting you out. That could take weeks—if you’re lucky.

ʰᵃⁿⁿⁱᵍʳᵃᵐ:

These two work together to keep harmful (innocent) people away from you. They operate in a way that is very different from any other human. They communicate silently, ensuring that you remain unaware of what’s happening around you. In about a week or so, that troublesome person will be gone. Will is best at distracting while Hannibal excels in taking action. They try to keep you from noticing the things they do, even though you know all their secrets. It's no surprise to you that they behave this way, but you don’t mind it too much.

ᵗʰᵒᵐᵃˢ ʰᵉʷⁱᵗᵗ:

Speaking of Thomas, he is exactly what you would expect. What I mean is that he is very protective of you because he loves you so much. It’s not in a scary way, though. He will do his best to keep you at home, trying to shield you from his darker side. Besides that, he truly loves you. He often wonders why you chose him out of everyone. He struggles with self-hatred and tries to deny it. However, you love him for who he is and dream of becoming his wife/husband/spouse one day.

ʲᵉᵉᵖᵉʳˢ ᶜʳᵉᵉᵖᵉʳˢ:

What do you hope to achieve by trying to leave him? He will track you down and restrain you even more. He can always tell when you are lying, so don’t even attempt to deceive him. Jeepers is a hardworking man, and because of his hunger, he will be out of the nest most of the time. However, that doesn’t mean you will be free. He will ensure you have everything you need while he is out hunting. He won’t allow you to see or interact with another human ever again. If he finds you talking to or seeing anyone else, they will be gone.

ᵃʳᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒʷⁿ:

If you and he are really together, he will likely be the least possessive. He’ll definitely protect you and may even try to distance you from people he feels you spend too much time with, but that’s just part of it. Art himself is like a walking time bomb; one minute he’s allowing you to go outside, and the next he’s keeping you cooped up in the house with him for the night. It seems to depend on whether he’s injured or not. He won’t try to hide his darker tendencies because he feels there’s no need to, and besides, he has better things to do.

#slashers #slashers x reader #art the clown #slashers x y/n #ghostface x reader #ethan landry #ghostface #ethan landry x reader #art the clown x reader #hannigram #thomas hewitt x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu matcher x reader #jeepers creepers #jeepers creepers x reader #bo sinclair x reader

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bunny-jpeg · 2 months ago

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virtual tracks

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, sim racing, oral sex/face sitting (reader receiving), masturbation, dirty talk, sub!max

you knew what you were getting into when you first saw the sim racing set up in his apartment. redline was a big part of his life, just like formula one. even when he wasn't streaming, it still meant a big deal to him.

and you were happy that he had a hobby! after all, it wasn't the worst video game to play. you were fine with him playing his silly little racing games and chit-chatting with friends and fans.

but sometimes, you wanted to break that set up with a hammer and toss it over the balcony.

how was this possible? you were standing there in nothing but blue lace panties and one of his redbull windbreakers, the zipper down enough to show your wonderful cleavage. you were inviting him for sex. and max was not paying an ounce of attention.

you were almost dumbfounded until you crossed your arms and said, "max."

"in a minute, my treasure. one second." he said, his eyes didn't peel away from the screen. he steered the virtual car around the curb on a virtual track. you pinched the bridge of your nose and zipped the windbreaker back up.

you went over and grasped the back of his chair and leaned, "max verstappen. for someone with sharp enough vision to win four championships. you are painfully blind." and placed another hand loosely at his neck.

"just let me finish this race and i swear i'll go down on you until you cum at least three times." he promised as he felt an uptick in his pulse. your engagement ring glimmered in the low light.

"you're picking a video game over me, max?" you leaned in a little closer, "thought i taught you better than that. i dressed up for you and you're too busy with your games." your hand lowered to his shorts where you got your hand under the waistband. you gave his cock a little attention, feeling him grow hard under your touch.

he instantly crashed the sim car into a wall and let out a sweet little moan. there was the max you knew and loved. the man who whimpered.

"please, my love." he shuddered, "i'm sorry."

"i understand, you boys love your silly little games. but, now that you're done with that level. why don't you keep your promise?" and played with his cock until he started to get up from his seat.

you knew that max was smart and to see him put that brain to use was always a good sign. you guided him to the bedroom. he let you lead him then pushed him onto the bed.

he reached for you and tried to grab you, but you swatted his hands away. your tone was stern as you said, "look, don't touch. got it?" he then put his hands back on the bed, but those blue eyes were trained on you as you stripped of your minimal clothes. if he had behaved, he would have been able to undress you like a present. he felt his cock twitch in his shorts.

"look at you, maxie." you purred as you got onto the bed, "aren't you the sweetest thing ever? mister big and tough on the track, but when it's just you and i, well, you're just a cute little kitten." you reached for him and kissed him firmly on the lips, "see you look better on your back than in front of a screen." you laid him out on the bed.

he shifted on the bed and felt his pulse spike once more. he could already feel the heat in his face, you stripped him of his black shirt and his shorts. you ran a finger up his hard cock and he almost came from that, you just giggled.

you licked your lips, "do your little racing friends know that you're such a good boy for me? so sweet and loved? does your teammate know? the other drivers on the grid? i bet everyone can see if on your face." your voice sounded nurturing, but your words were erotic.

it was no secret that you were more assertive, some would consider you a little brash. but max loved it. you were quite the pair. you were unlike anyone else he had ever been with.

"are you going to make me cum with that tongue of yours? you leaned in for a kiss before you got on top of him. when you broke the kiss, you got your knees planted on either side of his head.

he licked his lips and you pressed your wet cunt up against his mouth. he clenched onto the sheets as he rubbed his tongue against your pussy. he shuddered as his cock leaked pre-cum.

he was stupid for not focusing on you. you dressed up so nicely for him. racing should have been the last thing on his mind when he could be devouring your sweet, sweet cunt.

you reached down and held onto his shirt blond hair. you remarked with a small chuckle, "your hair is getting a little long, my dear. it feels nice, a good length to yank on."

he groaned, you weren't going to pull out the strands. but the small tug made him only further aroused.

maybe it was how good he made you feel, but you were feeling generous. you looked at him between your legs as you rocked your hips against him. you said softly, "max, my love. you must be so needy. you can touch yourself."

he mumbled a 'thank you' as he reached for his cock and he stroked himself. he made a blissed out noise as he feverishly pleasure you with his tongue. he swore under his breath as he felt the sexual pleasure grow.

max was so good for you, and you were so good for him. he moaned, as did you. you held onto the headboard and moved your hips further against his face. you clenched your thighs around his head.

he knew how to eat you out so well. he was talented with his tongue. he knew the pace that really got you going, the pressure to make you eager for more. his talent, to make you moan.

you groaned and pulled his hair a little more as you rubbed up against him further. you cursed under your breath.

"master with that tongue, max." you shakily exhaled as you moved further up against him, "look at you, fuck. you look good under me, max. you look better with my thighs crushing your skull." you looked as you felt the pleasure continue to course through you.

his tongue grazed across your clit, his licks were a little more heavy and it made your pulse jump as the heat coursed through you. fire in your blood as the hot blond between your legs made your cunt with sexual want.

"drive me crazy, honey." you purred, "you know what you do to me, is that why you were so focused on that stupid game because you are such a tease." you clenched your thighs a little tighter, he groaned as you said, "you're such a tease, max."

his thought were swamped, he could only think of you, you were intoxicating. alluring. you made his cock throb, even as he stroked himself. he could feel pre-cum slide down his knuckles. he breathed through his nose as he licked your beautiful cunt.

heaven.

that was all could be said about you. he needed you deeply, carnally. he yearned for you, in a certain way that he could only describe as being heavenly. is sang in his soul. he yearned for you, needed you. he loved you, even when your thighs were squishing his head. to die by them around be a noble death.

you moaned as you felt the pleasure brew in you. the intense feeling soon reached its peak and you held onto his hair tightly and continued to move against his face. it was an intense feeling as the warmth continued to flow through you.

max continued to jerk himself off, he needed his release soon. the pressure of erotic heat was far too much for him. everything in his body ran hot as he stroked himself quickly. his cock ached for you, when you moaned, he knew he was close. his pace was quick, matching with how he gorged himself on your cock. his dedicating to pleasing you.

you panted heavily, "fuck, fuck, yes. fuck, max. that's it." your noises got louder as you felt climax so close, like it was on the tip of your tongue.

as you came on his tongue, he came around his hand. you finished together. you slowed your ace to a stop and relaxed around him. you panted heavily and pushed hair out of your face to get some relief on your heated cheeks. you got off his face, your pussy was soaked.

you laid out next to him and let him catch his breath for a moment.

"fuck, you're so good to me." you said as you wiped your wetness from his mouth before you went in for a hot kiss.

he got the cum off his hand before he pulled you closer to him and kissed your sweaty forehead. he happily accepted your affection.

"this was amazing." he purred as he held you close to him. you felt good in his arms. he kissed you head and relaxed further into the bed.

you took him by the chin and made him look up at you. you said to him, "you said you were going to make me cum three times." then smiled, "time to get to work, max and then maybe you can go back to sim racing."

"yes, please." he said as he got back between your legs,. he was focused the same way he was when he raced.

you chuckled as he gripped your thigh, "good boy." <3

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theempressofthenile · 11 months ago

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Astro Notes : Short N Sweet <3 Neptune's Revenge

Neptune 1st House - Popular energy. Very well known for their beautiful, majestic energy. Could have a lot of haters but admirers at the same time. Energetically sensitive to alot of others emotions. Sometimes, it can be a lil confusing holding so much power. Because their energy can be mixed up with someone elses if they don't know how to tell the difference. They usually have a strong sense of self, its just other peoples opinions can get in away of that if they arent careful.

Neptune 2nd House - Could use some help on the financial train. They're organic to the way they use their money. I mean, they could be super horrendous spender, spending each and every dime on any and everything. While still some how always having more in their wallet. Or they could be pretty good at saving and are a little bit of a cheapskate.

Neptune 3rd House - Whimsical voices. Poetic writers. Creative thinkers. Very talented when it comes to the hands as well. Could be excellent drawers & painters. Neptune in the 3rd has an ability to travel to very interesting places that aren't too far at home. They may go on lil adventures here and there. But its always a treat. Its kinda strange how well they can be at finding good eats as well with all the travel they do. Could work abroad or go to college somewhere out of their comfort zone a lil.

Neptune 4th House - Has a lot of secrets when it comes to the inner child. Very free, sweet loving children. Can open a door to different realms like we're in Narnia or something. Angelic creatures who enjoy alone time near their favorite place. If they ever share that special place with you consider yourself lucky. They normally keep the things they cherish hidden for a long time.

Neptune in the 5th House - Artists who seek deep into the art and become it. Very creative & a one of a kind with the way they carry the emotion in what it is they do. Can have you thinking hard on what it is they are trying to convey, they are a master at making complexities more harder to figure out. Just be there in the audience and watch the show. You'll never leave the same again.

Neptune in the 6th House - Fun loving pet owners, they go hard for the planet and the creatures that come from it. Real advocates for change and don't take too kindly to insensitive people. Could need to sharpen their boundaries a little more with people. Also, are incredible writers and should tap into this side a bit more. You might end up surprised with what talents you have that could make you some money, or could be a really cool job.

Neptune in the 7th House - Romance is the thing that just keeps on given to these individuals. May need to put the rose colored glasses down. that man might not be for you, love. Don't forget to put more time into your own needs versus the needs of someone else. Your compassionate energy may run dry if you're not using that waterfall of emotion for yourself. People are drawn to 7th house neptunes alot more than you think. They are capable of seeing thru the veil, you just don't notice.

Neptune in the 8th House - Psychologically understands the reasons on why the universe is the way that it is and why the people in it behave the way that we do. Could be honest about a lot of things, dishonest about what they know. The world doesn't need to know everything, which is why the divine gifted them with certain antidotes. Only they can use this so bring healing to a certain nation (or individual) but not everyone can find this secret the way they can. This is normally given to them by spirit guides, ancestors, or thru drreams.

Neptune in the 9th - Impracticality is almost their birth right. They see things in a way that doesnt make sense at all but to them it means something. What I mean is that these people see the world bigger than what they people tell them. They could have big drams and not understand why they have them, but God put them their for a reason. So you can figure them out. You may want to travel and study abroad, or just move somewhere different and don't know how. Thats where all the magic happens, finding out and taking the risk. The sagittarian way.

Neptune in the 10th - Majestic auras. The highlight of the moment. The star. The siren. The energy healer. Do I keep going? Very special creatures who touched this earth to make their dreams come true, even if they have to figure it out themselves. Empathetic to the people around them and are big on helping out with anything whenever they can. The Queens & Kings of the law of attraction. Can attract what they want if they just believe it in it more.

Neptune in the 11th House - Community leaders. Ancients who know they way to what the true reality is meant to be like. Literally can change the world with the way they move, think, and go around helping others. Sweet and lovely people to be around. Needs healing in their own friend groups. Can be a little out there, but thats why people love them.

Neptune in the 12th House - Practical minds in a world that tells them their crazy. No they arent crazy, they just have multiple psychic gifts. And these gifts have a way in showing them things people aren't usually equipped with handling. They need more time alone and in nature to keep themselves grounded. Other wise, they will go crazy from the world telling them that their crazy... When really they know a little more than what they led on. The imagination is a fun place, but also a place where the most hidden becomes entirely to open. Seers of the daylight & the night.

#astrology theories #astrology thoughts #astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #spirituality #tropical astrology #astro knowledge #deja's astro observations #neptune in the houses

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

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So far this file is called 'birdritch'. Those of you who follow my art tumblr might know where this is going. I needed something light to write, been a low day. There has been zero editing or reading through and it is past 2am, sorry and enjoy! (Don't need any typos pointed out, ty.)

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“You are supposed to be home.”

Danny blinked up from his work to find Lucius Fox standing in the doorway of the lab. The man had the sport of expression one wore around a child who had just done something disappointing.

(Danny was used to the look, even if it had been a long time since he'd been a kid. Or seen his parents, for that mater.)

“Okay, but,” Danny started, “we agreed that I could start at ten and take my eight hours and one for lunch—”

“A mandatory one hour for lunch away from your desk,” Lucius interrupted.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been doing that! I’ve been eating out on the rooftop garden or even leaving the building and eating out or taking lunch to the park. I’ve been behaving, Lucius, I promise.”

Lucius raised a judgmental brow. “It’s after eight, Danny.”

“What? No. I have an alarm on my phone and everything… okay, well, that only works if my phone is charged.” Danny jabbed uselessly at his phone screen. He followed the charger, which was plugged in, all the way to the wall. He resisted the urge to let his head fall against the wall. “I guess Leslie fried the outlet again or something. I’m sorry, Lucius.”

“It’s fine, Danny,” Lucius said, “but only because, one, I know you have been trying, and two, I am going to buy you the most embarrassing alarm clock I can find and mount it to something in this lab. Now it is late and I am going home and so are you, Mr. Fenton.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fox,” Danny said and made an exaggerate show of packing up his backpack, dead phone and all.

Lucius gave a little snort at the antics, but left with a ‘get home safe, Danny’. After his boss was gone, Danny took the time to actually make sure everything was in his bag and secure. He still didn’t get why he couldn’t just work late, but apparently WE had something of an insistence of work life balance. According to Lucius, Danny crossed the line too often and so was being kept in line. (Danny didn’t think mention he didn’t have much of a life, literally and otherwise, would help his case.)

Still, Danny mused as he stepped inside the empty elevator, the rules did keep him from becoming his parents. And that was a very, very good thing! Being a mad scientist in Gotham usually ended up landing someone in Arkham. It was just that after the chaos that Danny grew up with, going back to his empty apartment was depressing. It wasn’t as if Danny never got out and did things, it was just that all those things were mostly on the weekend. Most days he just didn’t have a reason to go back to his place.

There was no getting out of it tonight, the great and powerful Fox had spoken and Danny knew better than to try and sneak back up. He lifted his hands over his head, stretching as the elevator descended the last few floors. Oh well, at least it was before ten. He could still grab something on the way home and have a full, warm meal to take his pain meds on. By the pull along his forearm he would need them.

“Night, Bill,” Danny said as he passed the security guard who was on the evening shift. He got another ‘get home safe’ in response and gave a little wave in reply over his shoulder.

Even after the few years in Gotham, it still amused Danny how much everyone wished everyone else some sort of safe travels here. As much as Gotham was a city of hardened realists, there still was so much hope about it. Hope people got home safely, that the Bats would get where they were need in time, that the city would rebuild again and again and again. The undercurrent of hope was so strong that Danny could practically feel it moving through the city like a river.

It had been one of the reasons Danny had taken the job.

He could use hope.

He also had been very careful not to look too closely into it all. While Danny’s early life may have been dominated by the occult, he tried to stay away from it these days outside of the necessary visits to the Realm for his health. As much as the Far Frozen was full of ghost yetis, Frostbite was still a being of science and being there felt more like a cold vacation to his weird relatives than anything else those days.

Danny was actually worried that he was getting close to needing another visit. He shouldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t actually due back for another three months, but the thought of visiting Frostbite had been pulling at the back of Danny’s mind. The most annoying part of it all, is that there wasn’t any concrete reason that Danny felt he needed to go, just a lot of little things: the ache was deeper in his bones, he’d been missing noticing little things, his near constant vertigo was worse, and, oddest of all, he had been feeling chilled.

Maybe he should just take a long weekend and go for a quick visit.

Lucius would undoubtedly approve of the break.

Tomorrow, Danny would ask tomorrow.

(As long as he remembered.)

#dp x dc #spirit halloween ship #danny/bruce

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22ayla21 · 4 months ago

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Harassment Part II

No matter how well-mannered the guys are, within the walls of Night Raven College, there are those who will start harassing guests from another world.

Warning: unpleasant content, mentions of harassment, if you are uncomfortable, do not read. Fem! Reader.

Third year Second year First year

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle will not tolerate even the slightest hint of inappropriate behavior. If someone dares to disrespect his beloved, he will intervene immediately, using his magic if necessary. Depending on the severity of the situation, he may impose severe punishment.

Realizing that there are well-behaved students in the school, but also those who do not adhere to proper standards, Riddle may propose a new set of rules regarding the respectful treatment of the girl. He may even organize a meeting in the dorms to make it clear to everyone that she will not be treated with disrespect.

After the incident, he will most likely become even more attentive to her surroundings. He may begin to accompany her when possible, or assign one of his trusted people (such as Trey or Ace and Deuce) to ensure that no one crosses the line.

Although Riddle is strict, he is not used to showing excessive emotion. If the harassment affects his lover, he may experience not only anger for the first time, but also a deep sense of personal responsibility for her well-being. This will cause him to question whether he is truly protecting her as he should.

After the threat is removed, Riddle may be concerned for his lover, but will express this in a more measured manner. He will ask if she is okay, and perhaps offer her tea to help calm her down. Internally, he will be very worried and will reproach himself for not preventing the situation sooner.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie is a man who does not like to get involved in problems without benefit. If he notices that someone is being pushy towards his beloved, he will most likely first observe the situation, trying to understand how serious it is. If the girl can handle it herself, he will simply keep the situation under control, but if he sees that things are going too far, he will intervene.

Ruggie knows how to work with people, especially if they are dumber than him. He can first approach the harassers with a wide smile and a friendly tone, as if he does not notice the problem, and offer them to "talk" in private. However, the conversation will be far from peaceful - he will subtly threaten them, using their weaknesses: "You don't want anyone to know about your failed exams, huh?" or "You don't want to lose your lunch next week, do you?"

If the situation is serious, but he does not want to get his hands dirty, he can involve Leona. After all, he is his right hand, and he knows how to present information correctly. He can casually say something like: "Oi, Leona-san, it seems like there's a guy here who's trying to flirt with someone else's girl. Do you think I should give him some advice?" Leona doesn't like to interfere, but if he's irritated, he can simply intimidate the offender or accidentally put him in his place.

Ruggie won't openly yell or hit people, but he will protect his beloved in any way he can - cunning, intimidation, manipulation, and hidden threats. He won't tolerate anyone causing her discomfort, but he will do everything so that he himself doesn't have any problems.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is a person who knows how to keep a straight face. If he finds out about harassment, he will pretend that nothing happened at first, but in reality, he is already planning how to eliminate the problem. He will not make a scene, but will choose a more sophisticated method of punishment.

He may approach the offenders with a friendly smile and offer a "favorable" deal that will leave them at a loss. For example, he may create a contract that seems to give something tempting, but in reality will turn out to be a punishment - perhaps they will lose their vote for a week, or their special magic for a month or more.

If the offenders are important figures in the school (from rich families or influential clubs), he will not act directly, but will use cunning manipulation. He can spread rumors, frame them in the eyes of others, or convince the heads of other dorms of their unreliability.

If the situation gets out of hand, he can call Floyd or Jade. Floyd is a "fun" guy, and the idea of scaring or beating up bullies is likely to appeal to him. Jade, being more subtle, may "accidentally" arrange for these guys to have discipline problems.

After the incident, Azul may become more attentive and caring. He may subtly add little bonuses to her day, such as asking her to stay at the Monstro Lounge where she will be safe, or suddenly inviting her on outings to keep her away from unpleasant people. If he sees that his beloved is truly scared, it will hit his insecurities. He will feel like he is not good enough, since he could not protect her. This may lead to him becoming even more secretive, but also more brutal in his methods.

Floyd Leech

Floyd is a man of mood, so his reaction to the harassment of his beloved may depend on what state he is in at the moment.

If he is in a good mood, his first reaction may be playful and mocking. He may come up, put his arm around his beloved's shoulders, smile at the impudent one, and lazily say something like: "Oh, you probably don't know... but the shrimp is already taken~" His smile may seem friendly, but it will intuitively become clear that it is full of hidden threat.

However, if this person continues to pester, Floyd will quickly lose all humor. A dark light will appear in his eyes, he will literally freeze for a second, and then instantly be next to the offender, grabbing him by the shoulder or collar, squeezing with a force that can crunch the fabric. His voice becomes low, and the intonations are frighteningly slow. Depending on his mood, Floyd can either intimidate the bully or outright threaten him physically (but not in a way that would make him answer to the teachers later).

If he is already irritated, he will skip the mockery stage and immediately move on to intimidating behavior. He can grab the bully by the neck, wrist, or even press him against the wall with such force that he will stop breathing for a second.

"Huh? Who gave you permission to touch my shrimp? Come on, explain it to me while your ribs are still intact." At this point, his voice will be low and the pressure will be noticeable.

If his beloved tries to stop him, Floyd can immediately calm down, hug her and say: "You don't like it? Okay, I won't... But he won't bother me anymore, I promise~" However, he can send an icy look to the bully at the end, showing that he remembered his face. In any case, whoever dared to pester his beloved, that person would either learn a memorable lesson or be afraid to even look in her direction next time.

Jade Leech

Jade never shows his irritation or anger openly. He will continue to smile, speak politely and act as usual, but at the same time he will carefully watch anyone who approaches his beloved with inappropriate intentions.

If someone crosses the line, Jade will most likely not make an open scene. Instead, he will gently remind the offender not to do something he will later regret. His voice will remain soft, his smile - friendly, but the coldness in his eyes and slight hints will make it clear that he is quite capable of making a person's life a nightmare.

If someone really goes too far, that person will suddenly start to face minor (and sometimes major) troubles: their things will mysteriously disappear, someone will trip them up, and their reputation among the students will begin to fall for no apparent reason. And no one will guess that Jade is behind it - except, perhaps, Azul and Floyd, who will only smirk.

Jade can ask her with a slight smile: "Oh, my dear, what exactly will you do with these people? Perhaps you will allow me to help a little?" He will watch her reaction, checking how capable she is of standing up for herself - but if necessary, he will personally make sure that no one bothers her anymore.

Unlike her brother, who could immediately start a fight or start chasing offenders, Jade acts covertly. However, if his beloved is really in danger, he will not stand on ceremony - perhaps no one will ever know where that impudent man who allowed himself too much disappeared to.

Kalim Ali-Asim

Despite his cheerful and easy-going personality, Kalim cares deeply for those he loves. He would be greatly concerned if someone were to harm his beloved. This sense of protection would show in his actions, and he would try to intervene as quickly as possible to stop such harassment.

While Kalim may not be the most agile and is sometimes naive, he would try to actively intervene to protect his beloved, even if it meant failing or looking awkward. He would perhaps try to resolve the situation peacefully, but if that did not work, he would not be afraid to take advantage of his position or perhaps ask Jamil or other friends for help.

Kalim, being a man with good intentions, might not immediately understand the gravity of the situation. He might take action, such as speaking in a friendly manner to those who violated his boundaries, but his sincerity might not be taken seriously, especially when it comes to people with less well-mannered behavior.

Despite his naivety, Kalim has the ability to be decisive. He might engage in more decisive actions, such as reporting the incident to his teachers or older students. His desire to protect others, especially those he loves, would be motivated by a desire to not let anyone be humiliated or hurt.

He might display naive but sincere kindness, while not always clearly understanding how to effectively deal with such situations. It is important to note that his primary actions would come from a desire to protect and support, rather than a desire to demonstrate his power or status. He would console her, trying to strengthen her spirit, and encourage her so that she does not feel alone or helpless in this situation.

Jamil Viper

Jamil, who is used to avoiding attention and hiding his true intentions, might try to stay out of the way and remain on the sidelines at first. He would initially choose to keep a low profile to avoid making the situation worse or putting himself at risk, especially if he felt that interfering could lead to further complications.

Despite his calm exterior, Jamil is an intelligent and experienced man. He would likely use his knowledge and skills to eliminate the threat quietly and without unnecessary noise. This could involve using manipulation or influential people to quell the harassment without drawing unnecessary attention to himself.

As a man with a strong sense of responsibility, Jamil would likely feel obligated to protect his lover, especially if she is new to a world she is not accustomed to. Even if he would prefer to remain in the shadows, he might find a way to protect her, even if it means using his hidden abilities a little.

Jamil, despite his polite and calm exterior, may hide a deep rage inside. If harassment were to become overt, he would control his emotions, but he could probably act tough in the shadows, finding ways to punish those who violate boundaries. This could manifest itself in more subtle actions, such as provoking violators through manipulation or using social connections.

As a person who hides his true feelings, Jamil may experience an internal conflict. He may, on the one hand, feel the desire to protect his lover and show his strength, and on the other, he may be afraid of revealing his true potential and desire to be recognized. This can lead to internal tension, where his hidden ambition clashes with his desire for a quiet life without unnecessary attention.

Jamil may try to solve the problem with the help of influential people, such as older mentors or teachers, if the situation gets out of control. He could turn to someone who would be able to influence the offenders without revealing his own efforts.

Silver Vanrouge

Silver would probably react with his usual seriousness and restraint. First of all, he would be wary and extremely attentive to the safety of his beloved. Despite his tendency to fall asleep in unexpected situations, when it comes to Malleus or loved ones, he is capable of showing unusual determination.

If the harassment comes from students, he would try to politely but firmly intervene, warning them that such actions are unacceptable. However, if the situation gets out of hand, he will not hesitate and may become aggressive, revealing his hidden but strong side. At the same time, his reaction can be restrained and almost cold-blooded, with the intention of eliminating the threat without unnecessary emotions.

Silver will probably not make loud scenes or public conflicts, preferring to resolve everything within the framework of discipline and respect. If the situation continues to deteriorate, his tendency to silently threaten and give a cold stare will make his behavior intimidating to those who violate his boundaries.

After the harassment incident, Silver will take special care of his girlfriend with special attention and care. He will monitor her safety, offering support and reassurance that she is safe with him. His actions will be quiet but caring: he will accompany her wherever necessary and often show his attention through small gestures, such as supporting her in difficult moments or protecting her from possible threats. His care will be shown through protection, not words, and he will try to make her feel safe and protected.

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