“Elain shouldn’t have to convince anyone that she belongs in the Night Court.” “Elain needs to leave the people that coddle her.” “Elain just needs to give Lucien a chance and she’ll realize he’s perfect for her.”
Elain is often criticized for being passive and not standing up for herself yet some people believe she shouldn’t fight for what she wants and what she believes in. She should just run away. She should just give in to the mating bond and give Lucien a chance. She should continue being passive.
I believe Elain’s growth would be more impactful if she continues down the path we’ve begun to see her go down where she passionately fights for what she wants and doesn’t back down. We may not have Elain’s POV yet, but Elain has made her feelings known on a couple subjects. I’m focusing on Elain’s words only because I do not believe others know what’s best for her.
Elain very confidently declared herself as a member of the Night Court.
When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed.
Should Elain abandon her declaration and leave the place she’s begun to build a life in because she looks plain in black? Or because Nesta thinks Spring is made for “someone like her”?
Or should she prove them wrong by earning her place within the court (cue Elain using her powers) and show the claws she’s been hinted to have?
Elain no longer wants to be coddled by her sisters and we see her stand up to them for the first time in ACOSF.
Elain remained in the doorway, her face pale but her expression harder than Nesta had ever seen it. “You do not decide what I can and cannot do, Nesta.”
“Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”
Elain cut in sharply, “I am not a child to be fought over.”
But Elain said, “I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”
Should Elain run away from this battle and leave her imperfect relationship with her sisters behind?
Or should she continue to address the issues in their relationship so they can come out stronger?
Elain has made it clear that the mating bond means nothing to her, regardless of others trying to convince her to give the “nice guy” a chance.
“You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?” “It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—”
“You belong to him.” “I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”
“He brought you a present.” Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”
“No.” I blinked. “But he is a good male.” Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. “He cares for you.” “He doesn’t know me.”
Should Elain give in to the pressures of giving her mate a chance? Forget about her dream of a love that would trump even a mating bond?
Or should she fight for a love of her own choosing?
I don’t want Elain to give in. I don’t want her to be passive and let others make decisions for her. I want to see Elain surprise everyone and continue to fight.
63 notes
·
View notes
how do i tell my mother that coming into my room calling me "lazybones" if i'm still in bed at any time past 7 a.m. for YEARS has done near-irreparable damage to my self-esteem and created shame about being able to just fucking relax?
5 notes
·
View notes
if requests(?) are open what do you think about bff!rafe whos absolutely down bad for reader ☺️
bff!rafe is honestly the most obsessive man ever and has no sense of boundaries ngl
truth be told, you and rafe haven’t even known each other that long, barely a year, to be exact. when you had moved into the pretty little baby blue house that overlooked the busy docks and calm waters, rafe had just made his long overdue return to figure 8. you were fresh out of college, and as free as a baby bird — with a somewhat matured rafe who was patiently waiting on the perfect moment to swoop in and teach you to to fly — his way.
you see, rafe was the man of his family now, and as the leading man of the cameron lineage, he had no choice, but to become painfully aware of the damage he could cause. you shared the likeness of a baby deer — naive, dainty, and a little too welcoming … much to your own detriment, at times.
so, rafe took it upon himself to take you under his wing, making sure that he always had you in his line of vision. i mean, if he didn’t look out for you, who knows what kind of trouble you’d get into? which is exactly why he settled for being your best friend in the whole world, as you like to say — that is, until you’d finally snap out of the pink tinted dreamland you seemed to live in, and realize that you were better off just being his — being rafe’s girl.
“y’wanna try some?” you hummed, your manicured hand holding out the wand of your new tube of dior gloss as you mushed your swollen lips together, puckering your now shimmery lips in the mirror as you adored your new lipgloss.
met with silence, you rolled your eyes as rafe remained stood tall and authoritative behind you, his eyebrows furrowed as he fiddled with the collar of his polo shirt, “c’mon, kid — don’t have time to play games,” he shrugged his shoulders, before nudging the side of your jaw with the side of his ringed finger.
to anyone who wasn’t aware of your unique dynamic with rafe — the sight of a young girl dressed in nothing, but a mesh bralette that displayed her hard nipples and tiny silk shorts that sucked up into her ass, a bit bent over a vanity with a much taller man’s tented crotch ghosting right behind the curve of her ass, would be pretty incriminating.
but, in your eyes, it was just you and rafey, your very best friend in the entire world.
leaning back onto the balls of your sore feet, you completely missed the way rafe took in the ripple of your asscheeks as you let out an entitled huff, “i don’t want to go golfing,” you mumble, your arms crossed firmly across your swelled tits as you send rafe a bratty frown in the mirror.
mocking your bratty behavior with an exaggerated pout, rafe lets out a feigned whimper, “aw, baby doesn’t wanna hang out with rafey anymore?”
shoving the gloss-coated wand into the tube, you toss it onto the vanity, your bouncy blown-out hair whipping against rafe’s chest as you push your weak palm into rafe’s hard torso, earning another condescending laugh from the blue-eyed man, “i don’t want to hang out with you, anymore,” you announce, eyes glazed with frustrated tears.
“y’sure? got lots of pretty girls who would love for me to be their best friend,” rafe cocks his head to the side, a knowing smirk tugging on his pink lips as he watches you carefully think about your next words.
with a hesitant nod, you sniffle, “i’m sure.”
“okay — i’ll miss you, princess,”
your doe eyes widened with genuine concern as rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your hair, before taking a few steps backwards from you, turning to reach for the handle of your bedroom door. he can’t leave — you were only kidding!
“stop! i was just kidding,” you panic, perky tits bouncing as you rush over to rafe who is biting back a cocky grin.
forcing a solemn expression, rafe gently raised a ringed hand to hold your jaw, “can’t joke like that, huh? almost made me get a new best friend, pretty girl,” rafe twists the knife, his stomach growing warm and fluttery as he watches you lightly bounce on your feet, before accepting your outstretched arms as he carries you back to your pillow and squishmallow-covered bed.
“sleep over?” you questioned sweetly.
“of course, kid.”
。⋆୨୧˚
wet lip smacks and muffled moans filled the four walls of your bedroom as you laid semi-underneath a now shirtless rafe. one leg hooked over his hip as your hands cupped each side of his strained neck. your puffy lips were nearly raw and tingly from rafe’s constant suckling and nipping at your mouth. rafe’s hand kept a light grip on your throat as he kept you engrossed in the slippery kiss, tongues dancing together wildly as rafe fucked your mouth with his.
pushing out a sleepy whine, you said your delicate hand to rafe’s collarbone, gently pushing, “rafey — m’lips hurt,” your words were jumbled as rafe groaned into your mouth, his lips continuing their relentless assault.
your sloppy little makeout sessions with rafe were a common find when it came to spending a day with him, and you didn’t see anything wrong with it — i mean, he was your best friend forever, he would never steer you in the wrong direction.
shutting you up with a slip of his tongue inside of your mouth, rafe’s hand sliding to cup your cheek as you are quick to wraps your swollen lips around his slippery tongue, gently suckling the pink muscle. you continued sucking on his tongue for a few more minutes, your mixed spit shining on the corners of your mouths and messily smeared on your chins from wet lips.
sliding a calloused, ring-clad hand to cup your soft ass underneath the silk of your shorts, rafe patted two light slaps to your skin, earning a needy moan from you as your wrapped your slick lips around his tongue once more, in a sealing kiss, “sorry — y’taste good,” you mumbled, your sore lips pulled into a sorry little pout as rafe nods knowingly, gently pulling your head to lean against his chest.
rafe never missed the way you gazed up at him, your doll eyes sparkling with adoration and respect — you never judged him, and he appreciated that.
“s’okay, kid.” he responded, mushing your cherub cheeks as your lips remain in a silly smile.
you really had the bestest friend in the whole world!
2K notes
·
View notes
Perfectionism cringe more at 11
1 note
·
View note
poly!moonwater x mute!reader? Maybe them learning sign or comforting reader when someone makes fun or says something rude to them.
🥹🥹🥹 this is so cute omg. thanks for your request!! 🤟🤟🤟
poly!moonwater x mute!reader (gn)
You kept your face pointed downwards at your textbook and ignored the two shadows seating themselves across the table from you, hoping that if you minded your business, they would too.
People weren’t always very understanding of your condition, and those who pretended they were usually just asked a lot of very imposing questions; if you could hear, why couldn’t you talk? Were you ignoring them? Were you faking it? What was your deal? And contrary to popular opinion, speaking louder and repeating themselves didn’t change the fact that you still couldn’t speak to them.
“Y/N, right?” You heard a voice come from in front of you. You grimaced slightly but tried to rearrange your face before looking up.
Sitting across from you was Regulus Black and Remus Lupin; the latter having been the one to speak to you.
You nodded yes to his question, which earned you a beaming smile from the scarred boy.
“I’m Remus, and this is Regulus.” He said, motioning towards the younger boy with his head. You offered the best smile you could muster and nodded hello to the two of them.
“What subject are you working on?” Regulus asked, attempting to peek at your notebook. You pulled the textbook from under your elbow and showed them the front cover.
“Herbology.” Remus narrated. “I’ve always been pants at that, honestly.”
You smiled gratefully at the two; most people don’t put much effort into trying to converse with you once they realize it requires a touch more effort on their end.
“What’s your favourite class?” Regulus asked then, causing your stomach to drop.
They had to know, right? They couldn’t not know. Did they think you would finally talk if only you wanted to badly enough? Or was this a prank? You didn’t think pranks were the younger Black’s thing, but you knew Lupin hung around with a folly crowd.
You’re not sure how long you’d been sitting there spiralling when you felt a gentle nudge to your wrist. You looked to see a piece of parchment and a quill being pushed towards you by Remus.
You looked to him then, trying to see if you could spot any malevolence in his expression.
You couldn’t.
You cautiously took the quill and parchment and scrawled out your answer quickly. Passing it back and trying to ignore the burning of your cheeks or the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.
Remus beamed at your response. “I love that class too.”
“May I ask something that might come across as terribly forward?” Regulus asked suddenly, causing your heart rate to spike.
“I was only wondering how you converse with your friends or family; what’s most comfortable for you?”
You let out a steadying breath and accepted the quill and parchment back from Remus to quickly write “sign”.
Regulus smiled at that, and you weren’t sure you expected a Black to be capable of an expression so soft.
“Wonderful.” He said as he pulled out a heavy book from his bookbag; a muggle book entitled “BSL for Dummies”.
You felt your eyebrows migrate into your hairline as your mouth fell open.
“Now, if it’s not terribly inconvenient for you, do you think you might be able to help us learn?” Remus asked, smiling kindly at you.
You nodded quickly, mouth quirking up into a smile as Regulus helped turn the book towards you so he could ask “is this the right way to ask someone out on a date?”
453 notes
·
View notes
18+. DDDNE. Noncon. Bullying. Physical abuse.
This is for Nai because she said forced submission... but she didn't specified ;)
Sam Monroe who is tired of being bullied by you and just snaps. Pushing you against the door of the janitor's closet you locked him in and yanks your hair, his grip is tight and filled with hatred, his rings scrape your scalp and you can't even move in response. Your body paralyzes, not even an ounce of adrenaline is produced— just fear. He is staring at you with fire in his eyes; the eyes of the boy who has gone mad.
Your throat is dry, but not for long. His tongue finds its way inside your mouth, taking your will and your autonomy just like you have done to him since elementary school, following him all the way to college, continuing with the torment. Sam lets go of your hair to wrap his sweaty hand around your neck, squeezing hard enough to cut your air flow. You choke against his lips but he doesn't care; you never cared, why would he have to? "This is the last time I listen to you," He whispers. Your vision starts to go blurry, everything around him spins and your head is floating. This can't be the way you die. "Now it's your turn to cry."
The floor receives you gladly after Sam pulls you, shoving you down onto the floor. Your head hits a bucket causing you to whimper in pain but he doesn't stop. Nothing will stop him now. It doesn't matter how much you cry and beg— Sam has earned every tear and sob. Your hands desperately try to hold onto something but to not avail. Sam is quicker, surprisingly so.
"Nuh-uh. Stay fucking still," He threatens you, landing a harsh blow on your cheek. The weight of his palm stops you from fighting back. The consequences of years and years of entitlement and abuse finally dawning upon you. Sam looked at you with a wicked smirk, exhaling heavily. Everything about him screamed danger, everything about him was strangely alluring and terrifying at the same time. "I heard you fucked the whole football team... then I guess you wouldn't mind another dick inside you."
238 notes
·
View notes
The Gang React to You Saying You Hate Them
As a disclaimer, I'm going to say that these are reactions to you saying it and meaning it, not just being silly or dramatic. However, I'm also kind of assuming in most cases that this is NOT you saying "I am terminating our relationship entirely and this hate thing is a permanent situation."
The rest of the characters are below the cut.
Lucifer
"Very well. You're entitled to your opinion."
Depending on the situation, he might just shrug it off. It isn't like he hasn't dealt with his fair share of unfair whining from people who are upset with him. It would probably take a pretty emotionally charged situation for him to actually take you seriously.
In that case, he probably wouldn't quite know what would be best to do. He'd give you your space, but generally speaking, his demeanor wouldn't be significantly different. If things remain tense for more than a few days, he'll probably attempt to do the mature thing and sit down with you for a conversation to talk through your differences.
Mammon
"Pfft! No ya don't!"
Stage 1. Denial. You're so full of it. You couldn't possibly hate him, the Great Mammon, the first demon you ever made a pact with. You're just blowing off some steam. You'll get over it in a minute or two.
Stage 2. Anger. It's been a minute or two. You aren't backing down. Well, whatever! He isn't gonna sit around and let some whiny human talk shit about him! So he's going to maturely stomp to his room and maturely slam the door and maturely turn up some music obnoxiously loud.
Stage 3. Bargaining. Brooding has done whatever good it might have done, so he'll start to think of ways to change your mind about hating him. He's really an awesome guy, so it shouldn't be that hard. Obviously, the best way to let someone know you care is by spending money on them. So he'll go out on the town with a credit card and max it out on objects that are very pretty and shiny but really aren't your taste. (The fact that Mammon's taste is not the same as everyone else's taste mystifies him.)
Stage 4. Depression. The shopping trip having earned him nothing but abuse from Lucifer, he'll spend some time cooped up in his room and mope and sulk but definitely not cry, because how pathetic do you think he is? He ain't cryin' over one puny human!
Stage 5. Acceptance? Wait just a minute. You're so full of it. You couldn't possibly hate him, the Great Mammon, the first demon you ever made a pact with. He should stop sulking and go talk to you. Definitely not to beg you to forgive him or anything, but maybe if you squinted, it might look like that. Please don't hate him. Please?
Leviathan
"...I guess I should have known."
This is one of the choices that leads you straight to a bad ending. Ignoring him is one thing. Teasing him is another thing. Snapping at him when you're annoyed hurts, but he can justify it. But if you tell Levi you hate him, it will take a monumental amount of effort to undo that damage.
He'll probably assume you've always hated him, and that your friendliness was all an act. He won't be willing to take you at your word if you if you try and tell him that you didn't mean it, because how is he supposed to know that you aren't lying this time?
Satan
If he's (relatively) calm:
"You don't actually mean that. You sound like a child."
His reaction is a little bit like Lucifer's in this case; he'll leave you alone for awhile and not try to keep up the conversation. He won't really believe you actually hate him either. But he is a lot more insecure than Lucifer, so there's a part of him that nags at him... What if they actually hate you? He'll probably be irritable and difficult to approach when those thoughts are especially prevalent. Unfortunately, this is the sort of situation where Satan is immobilized by conflicting thoughts on what's going on, so it will probably be up to you to start a conversation and talk about whatever happened.
If he's very angry:
"Get out of here if you don't want to get hurt."
Whether that's a threat or a warning can be up to interpretation. I imagine that, as the Avatar of Wrath, there's a part of him that feeds on hate, so if Satan was a different sort of character, he'd say something like 'You fool! You're only increasing my power level!' But Satan being Satan, he'll spend some time in whatever room you've left him in and trash it before he calms down, feels extremely ashamed, sulks and/or broods for awhile at a complete loss for how to fix things without rolling over and looking completely pathetic, and, quite possibly, works himself up into another burst of rage from sheer frustration.
Ultimately, he'll probably be more comfortable talking things out through texts than in person (or starting the conversation with a text, then speaking face to face).
Asmodeus
"Hahaha... What...?"
He won't believe you for a second! Partly because, silly, of course you don't hate him, but also because his worldview does not allow for the possibility that someone he cares about might hate him. If he even considers the possibility that you might possibly, hypothetically mean it, he's in for an entire, earth-shattering identity crisis.
If you don't apologize pretty quickly or at least amend the statement to something he can accept, Asmo will head up to his room and hole up in there for awhile, obsessively tracking his social media accounts and pampering himself in the bathroom. You're lying, though. Look at this face! It's impossible to truly hate a face as beautiful as his.
Beelzebub
"Oh... Sorry..."
First he'll look like a deer in the headlights, and then he'll look like a kicked puppy. If he understands what led you to say this, he'll try and fix it, but if he doesn't, he will... (Select an answer below.)
A) Play video games with Levi. B) Go clubbing with Asmo.
C) Eat. D) Learn to break dance.
If you guessed C) Eat, then you've been paying attention during your Obey Me! lessons.
And honestly. Honestly! Why would you say something like that? Maybe he's not your favorite brother, but we all know it's simply not possible to actually hate Beel. We all know you're full of it. So knock it off.
Belphie
"...Beel, did you hear something?"
Yep, Belphie is going to pull out all the pettiness he can scrounge up. He believes that the best defense is a good offense, and he's a pro. He'll act haughty and unbothered, ignoring you and looking entirely unbothered between sulking sessions under the covers.
Pettiness aside, you have, knowingly or otherwise, tapped into a source of deep anxiety in your relationship with Belphie. He has not forgotten the whole...incident that took place when you freed him from the attic. He knows that, reasonably, you probably should hate him, and it's amazing to him that you don't seem like you do.
Once tempers have cooled, it might be worthwhile to talk over what happened back then, just the two of you. It was pushed aside too quickly, and you both probably have things you wish you'd said.
Diavolo
"It seems I've upset you. Please know that I never meant to offend you."
He'll see that you're angry with him and give you your space, but he won't be as torn up about this as some of the others. Why? He simply won't believe you.
He has seen your soul, and it is not the soul of a hater.
Barbatos
"Oh?"
Yeah, get in line. Considering the amount of time travel shenanigans this guy has probably pulled, I have no doubt he has amassed more than his fair share of enemies. More than that, he already knows this is just you blowing off steam. Like Diavolo and Lucifer, this is just water off a duck's back.
Although, depending on how irritated he's feeling at the time of the incident, he may or may not wear a smirk as he gives his noncommittal response. Barbatos might be the man with the multiverse in the palm of his hand, but he is not above being petty. Watch your back for a few days.
Solomon
"Ah... It seems I've hit a nerve! I think I'll give you some time to cool down."
He'll back off and leave you to manage your anger in peace. Then he'll settle in to focus on some project or another that requires his undivided attention. He doesn't want to deal with all the unpleasantness that your words stirred up. Honestly, didn't he get past this sort of thing a few centuries ago? What's a little spat between friends? You don't actually hate him; not after all he's done for you. He can't possibly be feeling insecure...?
Nope, all he's feeling is itchy because of the toxic gas that's starting to pour out of his cauldron. He should open a window.
The Angels
I can't even do Simeon and Luke, because they'd both just be so confused and sad that I'm not sure where I'd go with it besides scolding you for being a bully. You don't just say "I hate you" to angels who are either extremely sweet and attractive or actual children.
394 notes
·
View notes
can you do yandere adam ? :3
Yandere Adam Headcannons
Has an “entitled to you” attitude. Adam has a high opinion of himself, to put it mildly. Not only does he think he’s the greatest because he is the OG human, but he also feels like as the origin of all mankind he has the right to treat anyone however he wants. He doesn’t really feel like he needs to earn your affection because in his mind it is obvious that you should want to be with someone as fantastic as him.
He would have more respect for you if you were a tomboy or a badass, as he spends a lot of time with women who are exorcists. If you aren’t along those lines though, he may look at you as being more weak and pathetic, and therefore look at it as even more of an excuse to be domineering towards you.
Adam’s personality is naturally aggressive. He doesn’t like to play games or manipulate. His first course of action would probably be to actually whine and nag at you until you agree to spend time with him. If that doesn’t work, he may try to use his status to impress you. This aggression is also directed at rivals. I feel like in heaven, direct violence would not be allowed, but he would be more than happy to use some verbal berating.
Along with this, he’s also impatient. It would not take long for him to start using more bellow the belt methods of getting your attention. I feel like most of these would honestly be aimed at keeping other people from getting too close to you than actually at you yourself, unless you're being a real piece of work with him.
If he finally does get you in a relationship with him, he does expect to be the one in charge in the relationship. If he tells you to do something, he expects you to do it. I mean, he clearly knows more than you do and is just the most fricking awesome dude ever, why wouldn’t you do what he says?
Since he’s been there so long, Adam is quite familiar with the politics of heaven. If push comes to shove, he may threaten to whine to right people to get you kicked out of the heavenly realm if you don’t do as he says. This would be an extreme measure after you not only have rejected him numerous times but have also purposefully been nasty and humiliated him in your rejection.
201 notes
·
View notes
yandere adam headcanons
contains: brief dubcon mention, manipulation, emotional/mental abuse, degradation
yandere adam
who, under all the false bravado, is insecure. cuckolded twice—and by the same man no less—how could he not be? the overwhelming anxiety of losing you haunts him. try as he might, loud vulgarities make terrible compensation for confidence.
who sabotages any meaningful relationships. what do you mean you’re lonely? this is heaven; you’re surrounded by others! the company you keep never satisfies your desire for connection, seemingly close yet just out of reach. despite your best efforts, you couldn’t seem to form any deep attachments. the mental isolation will wear you down and warp your thoughts. were you even worth keeping around? distraught and rejected, adam will pull you out of the depths of your despair. who needs those stains? they don’t appreciate you like he does; don’t care for you like he does. you can see it now, can’t you? he’s the only one for you.
who openly tears you down with stinging criticism, finding fault in all that you do. his denigrations are no more than projected insecurities. though he casts a confident image, he is doubtful and hesitant. his harassment is subtle; any concerns you bring up brushed off and met with admonishment. don’t be so sensitive! that’s just how he is! you must be misunderstanding him. adam himself hardly recognizes his arraignment, sending crude remarks your way merely out of habit. he’s never meant any of it, often leaving himself wondering why he pressures you so much. it’s not that he takes pleasure in your dejection, but rather that he subconsciously recognizes his own faults. he knows he’s no good for you and that you deserve better. so he tears you down as he does himself, hoping that if you have no confidence in yourself, you’ll settle for him. though he means none of what he says, don’t expect any apologies. he’s convinced himself he’s above apologies, above you.
who takes what he wants, always pushing your boundaries, never asking for permission. it’s only natural; you belong to him. i mean, who asks their toys for consent to play? things would be so much simpler if you just cooperated. who cares if he plays a little rough? you can take it. that being said, adam views you less as an object and more as an extension of him.
who’s never far. what do you mean you’re going out? don’t go anywhere just yet; he’s coming with. no matter the destination or occasion, he’ll be there. what if you never come back? what if you leave him?
who’s entitled. he was the first soul to enter heaven; he’s earned this! you think you’re too good for him or something? you should be happy that he chose you! he has plenty of sluts lined up to ride the original dick; he could easily replace you. empty threats, yet stinging all the same.
who craves your worship. paradoxical as it is, he is annoyingly conceited yet also self-deprecating. having been divorced twice, he often worries he’s inadequate. so he overcompensates confidence to the point of arrogance. his doubt in your faithfulness connects to his past trauma, so compliment his features, praise his accomplishments, and let him know just how much you appreciate and enjoy being around him. he may not say thank you, but you can tell just how much he values your opinions.
who demands your attention. evading him is nearly impossible. he’ll take offense, of course, but ultimately see it as a challenge. clearly you were ignoring him because you wanted his attention! why else would you avoid him? no worries, babe! he’s all yours! isn’t he so generous?
who shows you off, proudly announcing your relation to everyone you meet. all of heaven, perhaps even some of hell, will know of you. whether you’re with adam or not, crowds will whisper, point, and goggle as you wander. you’re his bitch, hot stuff! get used to it! he wants everyone to see just how out of reach you are. you’re his, only his
who derives no pleasure from hurting you. adam will never physically harm you. underneath that crude exterior, he truly does care for you. he can give you everything, anything! just don’t abandon him. to keep you by his side, nothing is above him.
153 notes
·
View notes
The Magician's Game - Chapter 1
Five women become the playthings of a man calling himself the Magician. Using his powers, he forces them to go through a series of humiliatingly childish challenges, with infantilizing and permanent consequences for the losers. Inspired by the sadly discontinued season one of The Humble Games by Parker Longabaugh.
***
One moment Abigail was sitting at a bar, sending seductive looks over at the handsome man sitting across from her (and receiving looks of hatred in return from the woman sat next to him), and the next moment she was sitting on a hard-backed wooden chair in a large, brightly lit, luxuriously furnished hall. She blinked. What the hell was going on? Looking around, she saw that four other disoriented women were sitting in chairs in a row beside hers, and in front of them stood a man. He was tall, dark haired, and strangely ageless. He could have been thirty or fifty - it was impossible to tell. He wore a well-tailored black suit and the hint of a smirk on his handsome face.
“Hello ladies,” he said. His voice was deep, and Abby felt a pleasant tingling in her pussy. If she wasn’t more alarmed about her sudden transportation to this unfamiliar place, he was definitely the sort of man she’d be trying to pry away from his wife and take home with her. “Thank you all for coming.”
A woman a couple of places away from Abby was the first to recover. Her short dark hair and mannish suit gave her a somewhat androgynous look. “What’s going on?” she asked. Her voice was severe and authoritative. “Where are we?”
“You’re in my home,” the man responded politely.
“Who are you? How did-”
“Why don’t I do introductions?” he interrupted mildly, and without waiting for an answer he gestured towards a girl on the end of the row with straw-coloured hair, a black crop-top that showed off her slim, well-toned stomach, and a pair of skinny jeans. “This is little miss Susie Taylor, a third-year know-it-all university student who worked hard to earn a scholarship just so she could get away from her controlling mother.”
The girl called Susie went red. Know-it-all?! But more alarmingly, how did he know that about her? Was he some sort of stalker? Had he drugged her at university and abducted her to his mansion?
The man moved on to the next woman, a beautiful lady with long, white-blonde hair and very large breasts that were shown off classily by her elegant dress. There was something a little snobbish about the disdainful way she glanced at the other girls. “And this is miss Katherine Bower-Thomas, a fashion model from a rather well-to-do family who’s widely considered to be one of the most difficult people to work with in the whole industry, on account of her self-entitlement and overall bitchiness.”
Katherine blushed as well. How dare he! She would normally have given this man a piece of her mind, if she weren’t still so wrong-footed by what had just happened. One moment she'd been strutting down the catwalk at her latest fashion show, and the next...
“And here we have miss Madelyn Smith,” the man went on. He was indicating the dark haired, severe woman who had spoken earlier. “A lecturer in feminist theory who detests vapid bimbos more than anything, and who loves nothing more than to inflict the people around her with long rants about the evils of the patriarchy.”
Madelyn scowled furiously, but restrained herself for the moment. She didn’t understand what was going on here. She could have sworn she’d just been about to give a lecture on early feminist literature. Had she been hypnotised? Was this some kind of reality TV show? If so she was going to sue the producers into oblivion!
“And this little cutie is miss Becky Lewis.” The man pointed at the girl sitting next to Abby. She seemed to be the youngest there, pretty, and dressed in a plain white top and a skirt, her chestnut-brown hair tied up in a ponytail. “She’s fresh out of school and working part-time at her local daycare, where she has a reputation for being especially nasty to the poor little boys and girls. She just can’t stand changing nappies!” The man laughed at that, as if he knew some secret joke that they didn’t.
Becky squirmed nervously in her seat. It wasn’t her fault those stupid little brats were so disgusting! She’d been enjoying a day off from cleaning up after those annoying little rugrats before she’d suddenly found herself here.
“And finally we come to miss Abigail Reid, a very naughty girl who lives off her boyfriend’s money even while she repeatedly cheats on him behind his back. Definitely someone who deserves to be taken down a peg or two.”
Abby flushed, and found her voice. “How do you know – I mean, what makes you think I need to be ‘taken down a peg or two’?” she demanded.
“Well sweetie, I’m very good with wishes, you see,” he said, smiling at her. His dark eyes glinted unsettlingly, as if there was light behind them. “And dozens of people have wished for you to be put in your place.” He looked around at the others with a smile. “The same goes for all of you.”
“You still haven’t told us who you are!” Katherine complained, lifting her head haughtily. “Or how we got here!”
“You can call me the Magician, sweetheart. And I brought you here by magic. Isn’t that obvious?”
“Excuse me,” Madelyn said sneeringly. “But that’s not really an explanation, is it? I don’t care who you are, but you are going to be in serious trouble. I hope you’re looking forward to going to prison, because you’ve brought us here without our consent and-”
“Hush now, sweetie,” the Magician interrupted. “A man is talking. Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing with that pretty little mouth of yours?”
For a moment, Madelyn couldn’t believe her ears. Then she leapt out of her chair and launched into a furious tirade. “How dare you! Women are not your property, you chauvinist! This is so typical of a man.” She turned to the others. “This is exactly the kind of male attitude I spend my life fighting against. Men always think that what they have to say is more important than anything we might have to offer. It’s patriarchal social conswucts wike dese dat pwesent women as overgwown childwen!”
The other girls stared at her in shock. Madelyn blushed bright red. What was wrong with her voice?! Then she realised that her thumb was planted firmly between her lips, garbling her speech. She was sucking on it rhythmically, making loud wet smacking sounds, looking for all the world like an overgrown four-year-old. She tried to pull it out, but something stopped her – it was as if her thumb was being drawn magnetically into her mouth! Her eyes wide with fear, she whined and looked desperately at the others for help.
“That’s better,” said the Magician. “Daddy doesn’t need to listen to silly little girls who think they know best. I hope you enjoy your new thumbsucking habit, Maddy, because it’s not going away any time soon. Sucking on things is a much better use for a woman’s mouth than all your silly bitching.”
Madelyn looked frightened, and started sucking her thumb even more frantically, but Susie just rolled her eyes. “Oh, please,” she said exasperatedly, getting up as well. “This is all just some kind of trick!” She looked disparagingly at Katherine, Becky, and Abby, all three of whom were looking scared. “You don’t actually believe in magic do you? He’s just some stupid stage magician or something, and she’s obviously with him.” She gestured at Madelyn, who frantically shook her head from side to side, looking furious. The Magician’s smile widened.
The other girls stared at Susie, but they weren’t paying much attention to her words. As she spoke, her outfit was beginning to change. Her black crop-top turned pastel pink and began to lengthen, its sleeves becoming puffy and frilly. Two pink ribbons appeared out of thin air and began tying her straw-blonde hair into pigtails.
“I spent my whole childhood living under some petty tyrant,” Susie went on obliviously, “and I can promise you that they don’t have any real power.”
Her jeans melted away, rising up her legs and transforming into a tiny pink skirt that wasn’t even long enough to hide the white cotton, baby-duck patterned underwear that had just replaced her panties. Her socks became ruffled, and her trainers turned into black Mary Janes.
“I don’t know how he got us here, but it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing to stop us just walking out, so why don’t we…” Susie broke off. “What are you all looking at?!” she demanded angrily. Then she caught sight of herself in the large mirror that dominated one of the walls, and she let out a girlish shriek.
She stared at her new outfit in disbelief. Not two minutes ago she’d been dressed like a stylish college student, and now she looked ready to head off to kindergarten.
“H-how did you…?” Susie looked at the Magician, her face now full of fear.
“Much better!” he announced happily. “Those silly grown-up clothes were doing you no good at all, Susie. This is a much more appropriate look for you. Now, does anyone else want to interrupt me, or can I continue with my explanation?”
There was silence from the women, apart from the sound of Madelyn sucking noisily on her thumb. Susie was frozen, terrified the Magician would do something else to her. She didn’t want to end up as a thumbsucker too.
“Good. Now, as I was saying, you naughty girls are well overdue some corrective punishment. So I thought we’d have a little competition. A fun little game. The five of you will go through a series of challenges, with penalties for the unfortunate losers, voting periodically to eliminate one of your number until only one of you is left. Those who get voted out will receive a special punishment, in addition to any… alterations that I make to them over the course of the game. But the winner will get something very special. Three wishes. Anything they want. Anything at all.”
Abby shivered at the thought of these ‘special punishments’, but her eyes lit up at the thought of three wishes. Anything she wanted? Anything at all? If she could win…
“We’ll start the first challenge very soon, but first we need to get some num-nums in those cute little tummies of yours. Follow me, girls. Lunchtime.”
He led them out of the hall and into a large sunlight dining room, and none of them could think of anything else to do but follow. Blushing bright red, Susie tried to tug her tiny skirt down to stop herself flashing her new childish underwear with every step. Madelyn tried desperately to remove her thumb from her mouth, but it was hopeless. The harder she tried to take it out, the more urgently she sucked. A line of drool ran down her chin. She wanted to wipe it away, but for some reason she couldn’t, as though the simple knowledge of how to wipe her face clean had been blocked from her mind. She knew she looked monumentally stupid, a grown woman in a stylish suit sucking her thumb and dribbling down her chin like a giant toddler, but she just couldn’t stop herself!
The women stopped dead when they saw the chairs that were seated around the dinner table. They were highchairs. But even worse was what was placed on the table in front of each of them – a baby bottle full of milk, and a large bowl of mushy baby food.
“You must be joking,” said Katherine, wrinkling her nose.
“Not at all, sweetheart,” said the Magician. He waved his hand, and bright pastel-coloured bibs appeared around each of their necks.
Katherine cringed at the sight of the canary-yellow bib that now adorned her front. She couldn’t stand anything that messed with her elegant, classy wardrobe. The other girls looked down distastefully at the bibs on their own chests as well.
“In fact,” the Magician continued, smirking once again, “I think you’re all going to enjoy your lunchies very much.”
Abby suddenly realised she was hungry. Very hungry, in fact. She stared at the bowls of baby food, and the bottles of creamy milk, and her stomach rumbled. Hers wasn’t the only one.
“Hungry babies!” the Magician laughed. “Are you all keen to get some yummies in your tummies?”
The five of them rushed forwards and clambered into their highchairs. They were tight and uncomfortable, but none of them cared. They were all too eager to eat. Abby picked up the tiny plastic spoon next to her bowl and started shovelling baby food into her mouth, not even caring that she was getting most of it smeared around her lips. Madelyn was finally able to pull her thumb out of her mouth with a wet pop, only to shove the nipple of her baby bottle into it instead and start guzzling down the warm milk inside. It was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. Katherine crammed her spoon into her mouth messily. She knew the Magician was doing something to them, knew that she’d never normally do something like this, but it didn’t matter. Baby food soon spattered her bib and covered her chin. It was an insult to her refined upbringing, but she just couldn’t control herself! It was so tasty!
The Magician chuckled as he watched the five women desperately shovel down baby food and drink up their baby formula. In no time at all, they were finished, sat in their highchairs with their stomachs full to bursting and their faces and bibs covered in baby food.
“Such messy girls!” he announced, making them all blush. A wet cloth appeared in his hand, and he went around one by one, wiping the girls’ mouths clean. A particularly malicious smirk appeared on his face when he reached Madelyn, and saw the drool that was also wetting her chin. “Such a dribbly baby!” he cooed.
Madelyn glared at him, but the intimidating effect was ruined slightly by the mucky bib she wore, and the fact that the Magician was wiping her chin for her like some stupid toddler who couldn’t do it herself. Her thumb immediately slipped back into her mouth.
“Alright, girls,” he said once he was done and they were all getting out of their highchairs. “Back to the hall. Follow me.”
They trailed back into the brightly lit hall, groaning a little at how full they were. Becky couldn’t believe she’d just eaten the kind of meal those stupid brats at her daycare ate every day. It had tasted so good in the moment, but now she felt disgusted with herself. Even if it was magic, how had she let herself be reduced to their level?!
“Now, we’re almost ready to start the challenge…” the Magician said to himself once they were all back in the room they’d first appeared in. “What have I forgotten…? Ah yes!” He snapped his fingers.
Abby felt a sudden coolness around her legs, and a strange thickness between her thighs, as if her underwear had suddenly expanded. She looked down and squealed in horror. The other girls did the same. Anything they’d been wearing below the waist had vanished, to be replaced by bulky, white, disposable diapers. Susie had kept her childish new clothes, but now instead of her baby-duck patterned undies, it was a thick, crinkly nappy poking out from beneath her miniskirt.
“W-what have you done?!” Katherine shrieked. Her dress had vanished entirely, leaving her in just her a nappy and a bra.
“We can’t have anything covering up your diaper, sweetie. I need to be able to see if you’ve lost the challenge and need changing. You can have your dress back later, little miss. If you're good."
Madelyn cringed as she looked down at herself. She looked especially ridiculous with a suit jacket on the top and a bulky nappy on the bottom, a mockery of the strong, independent woman she was.
“Now we can get started,” the Magician said. “You see, that yummy baby food you all just ate has a very special property. Aside from making your tummies nice and full, it has also, for the next half an hour or so only, reduced your toilet training to the level it was at when you were three years old.”
All five women went pale.
“So,” the Magician went on cheerfully, “we’re going to have a little game to see how well you were all potty trained. Don’t worry, I don’t expect any of you to be able to stay dry very long. The challenge will end when someone makes a stinky in her pants, at which point everyone else will be allowed to use…” He waved his hand, and a row of pink, plastic training potties replaced the chairs they’d been sitting on earlier. “These.”
All five girls fidgeted nervously, their thick diapers crinkling between their thighs.
“And what happens to the person who loses?” Becky asked fearfully.
The Magician grinned. “The first person to fill her nappy will become incontinent. Permanently."
228 notes
·
View notes
”Why do racists always invoke MLK…?”
This is a comment from Reddit. I swear to god, it’s like the redditor who wrote this transcribed all the shit my racist, entitled, privileged, Boomer parents said my entire childhood. Like, word for word.
”Why do racists always invoke MLK…?”
First, you gotta understand their position, which is “Racism doesn’t exist anymore”. Because black people aren’t lynched, because there are wealthy rappers and basketball players, and because there was a black president, racism doesn’t exist in the US anymore. And this is especially important; when black people get upset about their lot in life, it is because they are lazy and want a handout rather than earning their way like white people do. When a black guy is killed by cops, he was a criminal and deserved his fate. When a black woman loses her access to food stamps, it is because she was taking advantage of the system. When black people get into college, it is because they are given special privilege they didn’t earn. And when black folks talk about reparations, it is because they want to punish innocent people so they can be handed their success rather than earn it.
Because there is no racism, and anytime some white person is called a racist it is likely because they don’t support simply handing success and money over to people who haven’t earned it, and not at all because they act racist in any way. And the term “racist” has become toxic in the US lately; people lose their jobs after being called racists unfairly. Heck, one could suggest minorities call white folks “racist” in retaliation, knowing there will be social consequences which are completely unearned. So to combat this unfair and, in their view inaccurate, narrative they employ a couple tactics;
1) “I’m not racist, you are for even suggesting it”. Since racism is defacto non-existent, playing the race-card is introducing a factor that doesn’t belong. When a black person calls a white person racist, they are not only lying, but specifically targeting someone based on their race and falsely labeling them something socially toxic with intent to cause harm. And the white person is defacto innocent because they would see anyone as insert accusation here, not just black/brown/gay/muslim/female/handicapped/immigrant people.
2) “Black people don’t know how good they have it”. Classic myopic delusion that assumes the complete lack of racism in the US also means any ongoing hurdles faced by black/brown/gay/women/etc people are their own fault. The fears behind CRT are great examples of the struggle to maintain this delusion, and not have people delve too deeply into history and see how cause/effect resulted in the current socio-economic imbalance. And since there are successes in the black community, that is proof that racism is over. Black folks had a black president, now shut up and stop making waves. There is an attempt to show that any calls of racism are not only unfounded, but examples of success in the black community disprove systemic racism; wouldn’t MLK be proud? And not only proud of the success, but would side with the white folks who are now experiencing reverse-racism as the lazy black folks ask for more. Racism, they think, is simply targeting another race purposefully, and has nothing to do with power imbalance.
3) “I earned my success, so black folks need to earn theirs”. And this is the crux of it all; white folks today don’t believe they are in a position of privilege because they work hard and their success was difficult. Many of them come from poor families, struggled to pay for college, don’t have a family history of slaver ownership. They see any minorities complaining as trying to get privilege unearned. They assume that, because there is no more racism, there is balance and parity among the races. Illegal immigrants are trying to circumvent the law, reparations and affirmative-action programs are unearned handouts, and special months/parades celebrating a particular group/race is promoting racism by giving them special attention they don’t deserve. Many white people see themselves as victims because they don’t receive any overt benefits from being white, meanwhile minorities are showered with unearned benefits all the time. The Great Replacement Theory is constantly being reenforced for them as they watch society take the side of minorities anytime someone attempts to call out this apparent imbalance in their favor.
But underneath all of this is the undeniable knowledge that they are, indeed, racist. Whether it is a jealousy, or a fear of socio-economic parity, or ethnocentricity, they know that society isn’t accepting overt racism anymore. And because of this, they have to hold back, watch what they say, watch how they treat people. “Make America Great Again” was a call to return to a time when casual racism was fun, and didn’t mean anything, and people weren’t so thin-skinned. Being “Woke” is forcing people to take difficult looks at the fact racism still exists, which is uncomfortable and threatens to challenge the current socio-economic stability, so terms like “woke” are being dismantled, misused, redirected into something that seems illegitimate. There is an active, desperate avoidance of acknowledging racism still exists, because admitting otherwise means admitting their world-view is wrong. invoking MLK isn’t done out of malicious intent, but out of desperate denial of a world that doesn’t fit their assumptions. Many, perhaps most, white folks in the US have no consciously ill will towards minorities, and would recoil in distaste at the notion of being considered racist. And they will spend all day explaining why they are perfectly justified in accepting a racist position on a topic and how that doesn’t make them racist because the minorities in question are to blame. Deflection. Denial. Dismissal. And then vote to prevent change.
(Source)
750 notes
·
View notes
Consequences | Two
Word Count: 6.2k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, oral (m receiving), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex
Series Masterlist
Hedi had noticed her praying more often, with soft tears in her eyes.
But no matter how much Hedi asked her what was wrong, the little maidservant would shake her head and insist that she was merely homesick having sent a few copper coins to her siblings.
In the room she shared with her fellow maidservant, Alanna, who luckily worked quite the opposite shift to her, she would sit on the stool before the pale of water, scrubbing at her skin to wash herself. Trying to rid her mind of the experience altogether. The taste of his spend on her tongue. The uncomfortable prod of his cock at the back of her throat. The way his voice sent a jolt of both fear and a thrill through her. It made her question everything about herself. That perhaps she didn’t know herself as well as she thought. And it was this fact that disturbed her the most.
That she was beginning to lose touch of herself.
She’d not said a word to anyone. And when she attended to him in the mornings as she usually did, she tried to make herself as small as possible, hoping that if she hugged her arms around herself tight enough, she might actually begin to disappear. Prince Aemond had almost pretended as if nothing had happened, with his usual one word answers, faint hums and lack of presence in his chambers.
The little maidservant wondered if she had done something to irk him, or if he had not enjoyed the experience and wished not to repeat it. Secretly, she hoped so. Hoped that he would lose interest and slowly slip into the old habits, ignoring her completely. Then she could go about her life, picking and cleaning up the royal Prince’s mess, and hers into the bargain as well. She thought that royals such as him do not think about the messes they make.
In that way they are like children.
She wondered if anyone, in Prince Aemond’s life, had ever told him no.
It was doubtful.
Perhaps that was why he felt entitled to torment her in the way he had. Perhaps it was the effect of privilege in the pursuit of pleasure.
It was a morning like any other and she dressed in silence, careful not to wake her fellow colleague whom she shared a bed with. Alanna was a night owl, through and through, but it did not mean she was not exhausted after performing her night shift duties and when she had come back in the early hours, it was like a prod for the other little maidservant to wake for her morning duties.
Who she saw in the looking glass looked very much like her, but didn’t feel like her.
The weather was pleasant enough, warm with a cool breeze as she carried Prince Aemond’s breakfast tray, a heavy bubble in her gut at the thought of seeing him again.
She’d turned at the call of her name. The young boy who served alongside the staff rushed up to her carrying a scroll.
“What is it?”
“Message from your family, miss” the boy’s voice broke as he spoke, he could not have been older than three and ten and still had that nervous wide look about him.
The little maidservant swallowed nervously and gestured for him to read it. She recognised him as the son of one of the staff, almost born for the role of being a hasty little messenger, and thus he was taught to read. Perhaps a benefit of his sex and his environment.
The letter read:
Your pestilent brother and sister are well, but their stomach’s are never full and the boy in particular has almost completely cleaned out the pantry. I will, for the love I had for your mother and father, continue to look after them, however I must request three additional copper coins per week to fund their insatiable appetite. Otherwise I shall be forced to send the little beggars on their way to earn their own coin, the young girl is certainly old enough.
The maidservant delivered a large sigh, an uncomfortable weight that was already on her shoulders was becoming heavier the more the boy read on.
“Thank you” she nodded to dismiss the young boy, only allowing herself to breathe a shuddered breath once she was alone. She told herself to not panic, to not cry and that everything would be alright in the end. But there was a small piece of her inside that allowed herself to be a child again, wanting the comfort of a mother and father. She wondered how she would be able to come up with 3 additional copper coins a week and still be able to feed and clothe herself.
Steadying her breath to keep herself from becoming emotional, she knocked twice and was allowed to enter when she once again heard the muffled tone of his voice.
Tray on the nightstand. Draw the curtains. Tie them back. She kept going over what she was going to do in her head, eyes downcast the entire time, not wanting to look at him.
And yet in her peripheral she saw him rise from his bed as she tied the curtains back
Her heart lurched into her chest when she saw his arms hook underneath hers to lean against the windowsill in front of her, and then when his bare chest had nudged against her back. She felt as if she could not make a sound and so she didn’t even acknowledge it at first, screwing her eyes shut to draw in a shaky breath. Aemond had smirked behind her, knowing what her reaction would be and his finger once again came to the little curl at the side of her head that perpetually made itself free of her braids.
“My little maidservant is shy today” he said lowly, pressing his form tighter against her back, thinking about how if he bucked his hips just a little, his hard arousal would prod against her dress-clad backside.
He looked down as she purposefully did not look back at him. He watched the way her lips were slightly parted, as if so afraid that she had to breathe through her mouth, albeit quietly. He chuckled at the effect he seemed to have on his little maidservant, smoothing his finger over her hair, then her neck, which he can tell made her shudder slightly.
“Tell me, sweet girl, do you still taste it…” he whispers in the shell of her ear, looking down he can see the shadow of her skin beneath her dress, but it becomes too dark to truly see anything. He allowed himself to wonder what her bare form would look like.
Would she have small, well-rounded breasts, easily fit into his palms. How he thought he'd grip them so tight he wouldn't let go, intent on making her at least whimper at the pleasurable pain.
Would she have a smooth curve to her hips, the line leading down to her cunny, to where he imagined that little patch of hair would welcome him.
Would she have supple thighs, ones he could leave bruises and marks all over. Perhaps even a bit of blood. The thought of smearing blood over her skin thrilled him more than he thought.
He remembers how she'd told him she'd not been with a man. Would she bleed so nicely for him, once he'd taken her maidenhead, be good and muffle her little whimpers of discomfort into the pillow. Or rather, he wondered if he'd quite like to hear them, while curling his fingers around her throat and squeezing tightly.
It was getting harder to breathe for Aemond. And unbeknownst to him, it was increasingly so for her as well. Frozen in absolute fear.
“...do you still feel my cock in your throat, hm?”
Yes, she thought, with a shameful twist of her stomach. She could still feel his hands holding her face, forcing her to take him as deep as he wanted, still feel every thrust of his hips against her, his fist tightening in her hair, tugging.
He released one of his hands on the windowsill to rest on her waist, making her inhale sharply. He’d not touched her intimately, only solicited the use of her mouth on him that one time. Aemond felt the movement of her ribs beneath her dress with her breathing, as if he’s just realised she was a living, breathing person before him.
“Have you touched yourself, sweet girl” he asks.
She managed to gather all the courage she has inside her and cleared her throat, “I…am not sure what you mean, your grace”
Fucking cock tease, Aemond thought. But she had really not known at all what he’d meant. Of course she had touched herself, to bathe herself, to brush her hair?
“I mean…” he starts, his large hands moving to gather her skirts in his fist. And this time she did shudder when the air hit her legs, skin that outside the boundaries of her own bedroom, should never be seen, “...have you touched your little cunt for pleasure”
She clenches her fists when his palm runs up the side of her thigh. It’s so wrong. So, so wrong for him to touch her like this.
Aemond breathes hot against her neck at the feeling of her soft skin. Just like how he'd imagined it. The curve of her hip, so feminine and squeezable in his hand. He thought of the way he would grab at them to fuck her, for leverage, using her body the way he sees fit. And now that he'd done so with her mouth, he thought of the rest of her little holes and how they would squeeze him too.
“Bought yourself to peak with your fingers…”
She could cry. She thought she’d lost his interest. Thought she might be free of it. Calm down, is all she kept trying to tell herself. She counted in her head, trying to ground herself.
He squeezes her hip tightly when she doesn’t respond, “Answer me now, or I will not be so nice”
“A few times” she admits, voice thick with tears, “a few times, your grace…”
But never to peak, she thought, embarrassed.
She spoke like she may have been in trouble for it and dreaded what he might do now that she’s given her answer.
“Hm” she chuckles, giving the skin of her hip one firm squeeze, one that is so tight in his palm it almost makes her whimper in pain. He lets her skirts fall as he moves away from her, looking much pleased with himself, smirking like he knows a secret.
“Go now” he orders, still with that gravelly authority but ever so slightly softer, now that he'd been thinking of her cunt. But the softer tone does nothing to calm her and if it were possible, she guards herself even more, keeping her eyes to the ground. She doesn’t even look back when he says, “I shall see you tonight, sweet girl”
She did not want to know what that meant, if it meant anything at all.
Aemond watched as she left, scared completely out of her senses.
Good, he thought. He loved that terror-stricken look in her eyes, the sharp taking in of breath when she was trying not to cry in his presence. He’d remembered wiping her tears away when he’d fucked her mouth so ruthlessly in search of his own pleasure, the way the slickness of it had smeared across her face. Aemond found that he wanted to know what she tasted like, every single bit of her. She would be so sweet…his virtuous little maidservant. He had to make sure she was entirely his, so that she knew nothing else but him.
Young women like her are so helpless in the hands of amorous men.
Whatever words were said to them, whatever touch and manipulation on their bodies seemed like love to them, the poor, silly little things.
He would make sure that whatever words, whatever touch inflicted to his little maidservant would be sweet, delightful torture.
All the while she was dismissed until the evening, she busied herself with such menial tasks such as helping the others with the laundry for the day. It was nice to get outside, free from the suffocating confines of the Keep, even if it was just for a moment. The hallways now served to remind her of him, dreading the moment she would be walking down them and he would round the corner, with that predatory gaze he always gave her.
It was a calm day, so she revelled in the lovely breeze for a moment, allowing herself to be happy.
There was some relief in the idle chatter of the other maidservants, as she scrubbed the white bed linen against the washboard, her sleeves turned up to prevent from getting wet.
“I hear the Princess Rhaenyra very well may be returning to King’s Landing soon”
Freiya was a little younger than the others and as such, had a wandering imagination, a large mouth and a bit appetite for gossip. So it was no wonder she’d already managed to receive the latest even if it was barely early afternoon.
The other, who went by Mari, also probably short for something but she would never tell anyone, rolled her eyes at the younger woman. Mari was one and twenty, but her mind was mature beyond her years.
“You must not believe everything you hear, your ears will fall off one day, you little tyrant”
Freiya pulled an offended frown, “No! I heard such news right from the source, while I was attending to the Queen. She said herself that the Princess will return to contest some…birthright or something like that”
The little maidservant raised her head and gave Mari an amused look, “You should not be listening to them while you attend to them”
“You get away with it if you pretend you’re not listening at all” Freiya snaps back with a mischievous smirk, “the Queen is understandably not thrilled with their arrival”
Mari huffed a laugh, “Neither are the Princes”
“Why is that?” she asks with a confused lilt of her head,
Despite being younger, Freiya talks over Mari when she’s about to open her mouth. Such a carefree little thing, it made her laugh. She cared not about such hierarchies.
“Supposedly they are here for the little Prince Lucerys’ ‘right’ to Driftmark”
Mari wrinkles her nose in distaste, “Prince Lucerys? The…”
“Exactly” Freiya responds,
“What on earth are you two talking about?” she asks, completely lost.
Mari sighs, “Prince Lucerys is the one who took Prince Aemond’s eye all those years ago, both merely children” she explains, folding the damp cloth in her arms, “the Queen was so distressed for her son, she barely allowed him from her sight”
For a very split second, something akin to sympathy washes over the little maidservant. But then underneath that is another feeling still. Something questioning.
“When are they to arrive?”
“Allegedly, within a few days” Freiya responds excitedly, ecstatic to receive some drama in her no doubt monotonous maidservant life.
For a man who had been so wronged in his past, with such a traumatic past, to turn into the person he was today. Someone who could be cruel, taking the little power she had in her own life into his own, greedy for more. She had done nothing to him but merely exist and attend to him, as was her job. And she wracked her brain about it. What had she done to incite such cruelty in him, if anything at all? What harm could she do to him in her position, that he had not done to her a million times over.
With her heart weighing heavy in her chest, after scrubbing the living daylights out of the linen, she carried the dirty water back with Freiya, chatting idly. She was good company, she had to admit, even if she was obsessed with the inner workings of the royal’s lives. As melancholic as the little maidservant felt, she let out perhaps her first genuine laugh when Freiya ‘accidentally’ bumped some of the water over the front of her dress. She’d given the young girl a friendly swat and told the little tyrant to scarper.
If what Freiya and Mari had said was true, there was a possibility that his typical Targaryen temper could possibly become worse. Perhaps irreparably so.
She waited in his chambers until it was impossibly dark. Later than usual, Aemond eventually returned, in a much more sour mood than this morning.
She’d knelt in front of the fire, placing more wood on it to heat the room in the cold that had captured it now that the sun had gone down. Was this how it was to be now? In the morning, he was one person, not burdened by the mood of others and his own not dependent on what had happened during the day. And at night, after the weight of his day had weighed heavy on his tired soul, his desire for release, of any kind, was insatiable.
“Your grace” she greeted with a bowed head, her soft, fearful voice barely carried above the crackling of the flames. Quite the opposite of the other night, while he was still angry, he let the door shut softly behind him. She just stared at his legs as they made their way towards her, and a flash of her pushing against his legs, in an attempt to push him away from her zips through her head. He was so much larger than her, she thought. It would take no effort on his side at all to subdue her.
She notices how he stands before her, fists clenched white.
“My little maidservant does not meet my eye today” he says with a hint of irritation to his tone, “Why”
She swallows nervously, trying desperately to regain her breath “Apologies, your grace.Just some problems at home that are of no matter”
When he remains still and quiet, she worries for a moment that she’s overshared, spoken too much and that depending on what mood he’s in, she might have set him off.
“What problems” he asks, and despite him asking, she gets the impression from his tone of voice that he is completely and utterly unbothered about the reason and just wants to hear her speak. She looks up to meet his eye and immediately wishes she hadn’t. His gaze is cold, uncaring, dark, like she is an annoyance.
“My…siblings, your grace. I am required to send them more coin, to pay for their support…” she replies nervously, insistent that she has shared too much information and that he very much does not care. She sees this, because his cold expression does not change.
His eyes roam her face, seeing the discomfort there at her situation. But he cannot find it within himself to care. All he cares to remember is how her smooth hip felt that very morning, how hard he had squeezed it, how he had dreamt for his fingernails to create little indents in her soft skin.
“You do not smile in my presence” he says simply.
At this, her lips part in shock. What did he mean? And also, what reason would she have to smile in his presence while attending to him?
“Pardon me, your grace?” she says in a quiet voice, immediately sucking in air as he steps closer to her. Her feet didn’t move from their spot.
“With the other maidservants, you smile so widely and yet in my presence…” he hums, his finger reaching out to twirl the little piece of hair at the side of her face once more, as if obsessed with it, “...I believe you fear me, sweet girl”
She could say nothing but try and keep her breath steady. He was right, he frightened her. But what woman would not be frightened at the way he leered at her, kept her in his sights firm and unyielding.
Only a woman who would want it, she thought.
“But no matter,” he says, his hand trailing to her the buttons of her dress at the top of her chest. Undoing the first…then the second…”I will have your fear if I can have nothing else” he smirks only slightly.
Her brain was all over the place. He said it with such conviction. Uncaring if she had wanted any of it or not. She could feel her stomach bubbling in her gut, feeling as if she might either cry or vomit. Aemond could not help but smirk at her efforts to keep herself calm, and failing miserably. His hand barely floated over her chest, over her clothed nipple and she’d flinched only slightly, with a slight inhale of her sweet, hot breath.
He had seen how she had smiled with her fellow maidservant, the way her dimples had shown on the upper apples of her cheeks, the pink that coloured them when she laughed. He had seen the way the little cock tease had water splashed down her front, turning her dress completely dark and sodden. Aemond would not be able to rid his mind of the image of her hardened nipples beneath the fabric for days, weeks, months to come.
“Sit” he gestured to the end of the large bed, while Aemond stalked to the fireplace for a moment.
She gathered her skirts in her shaking hands and sat herself down, closing her eyes to catch her breath, feeling as if the walls were closing in, and that the air was becoming difficult to breathe.
When Aemond turned around, his eyepatch had been discarded and he was shucking off his leather doublet, with the cream undershirt the only thing beneath it. He walked with such purpose towards her, until his tall, broad form was completely staring and looming over hers. His sapphire eye caught the light of the fire and at this moment, he looked almost possessed.
“I do not want your hair up when you are in my chambers”
There was a beat of silence, timed by the beating of her heart.
“Well?”
The intensity of his voice seemed to wake her from the impregnable fear for just a moment, and her shaking hands reached up for her hair again, quicker about her movements than she had been the previous time he’d aske-no, demanded for her to do so. It was wrong firstly to have her hair loose in his presence, but if anyone
“Look at me”
With her hair now falling in their waves down her back, she barely has time to look up before his large hand flies to her jaw, fingers squeezing painfully at her cheekbones, almost bruisingly. He pulls at her face slightly upwards and towards him. Aemond revells in the shocked and doe-eyed expression on her face and the way her skin blossoms pink under his firm, hard touch. His lips are drawn into a tight line, as if getting angrier by the second, and in his grasp he felt her tremble.
“Did you enjoy my cock in your throat” he says, his thumb drawing across her bottom lip, only slightly dipping inside into the warm embrace of her little mouth. He can see that she’s too shocked to say anything, her pupils shaking.
“Did you enjoy swallowing my spend…” he goes on, his thumb pressing against the wet muscle of her tongue, emphasising where his spend had been before he had demanded her to swallow it.
If he dipped beneath her skirts, would she bet as wet as her mouth? Accepting his digit so willingly.
“I think you did, sweet girl”
Did I?
He collects the wetness of her mouth on his thumb, still grasping her face tightly. When she briefly looked down, she saw how hard he was beneath his breeches and the memory of how he had felt in her mouth, heavy and hot. As well as how he’d tasted. At this she feels her gut tighten.
He pulls his thumb out her mouth, again, smearing the wetness over her lips and then her face as he grips her tightly once more.
“Do you like this job, sweet girl” he asked and her heart froze in fear.
“Yes, your grace” she whispered back,
“Then you will do as I say if you wish to keep it”
He quite forcefully pushes her back, making her support her torso on her elbows, looking over to the bed with parted lips when Aemond kneels on the floor, his eye forever on her face as he rucks up her skirts. It’s here she realises what he may intend to do and goes to shut her legs tight against each other.
“Are you going to be a good little maidservant and be quiet?”
She nods, voice failing her. Not that she would trust it to be steady at the moment.
If it were possible, his mood flattened completely. Aemond growls and hooks both his hands under her thighs and pulls her closer to him, his fingers digging into her bare, soft skin.
“Your grace, I-” she starts. Aemond glares right at her, forcefully parting her thighs and painfully squeezing the meat of her legs, emitting a whimper from her.
“What did I fucking say about being quiet” he snarls, hooking his fingers into her smallclothes and ripping them down her legs. She would shut her legs tightly if Aemond were not so strongly holding them apart, and she feels her heart going fast when she feels his hot breath on the juncture of her thigh. His tongue runs over the line there, inhaling deeply the heady scent of her sex, which he has no doubt is seeping with arousal.
“Stay still while I taste you, sweet…sweet girl”
He dips between her thighs and sees her bare cunny before him. It was just as he’d imagined it, the luscious hair framing it just for him was waiting there, his thumb ran over her lips, parting them to brush his thumb over her clit. She was wet. So wet. Her slick aided his movements and when he’d brushed over her swollen bundle of nerves, she’d released a shuddered breath, tensing up somewhat. Aemond was tempted to reprimand her, but now faced with her perfect cunt right before him, ready for his taking, he cannot find it within himself to care.
He dives in, flattening his tongue against her sex and he feels her body jolt beneath his hold, fingers curling into her hips.
“Mm…” he hums. She tasted so sweet for him, the intoxicating taste of her arousal flooded his tongue, waking his nerves and something deep, dark and ancient within. His eye opened somewhat to look up at her, being so good and quiet for him and he smirked against her cunt, quickening his motions when he saw that she’d laid back, keeping her hand over her mouth to obey him. Aemond watched as her chest and body writhed with each movement of his wet muscle against her clit, her other hand fisted the bedsheets and he could faintly hear her whimpering behind her hand.
Aemond pushed her legs further apart, granting his tongue access to her wet and waiting entrance, he dipped inside, using it to fuck her repeatedly. The only sound in his otherwise quiet chambers was slapping of his mouth against her cunt, lapping up her juices with a new vigour. He thought, the longer he continued, the more addicted he would become to it. He wanted to have this sweet cunt for all his meals; it gave him life and sustenance.
But it wasn’t enough.
His little maidservant was not letting go of herself enough. He could not bring her to peak like this.
He wanted her climax on his tongue, like she had his.
Aemond moves his tongue out of her, running up slowly to her bundle of nerves and sucks eagerly, giving her a new, deeper sensation in her gut that makes her hips buck against his face against her will. A new sound floods out her mouth against her hand that has Aemond’s ears perked up and his lips turn up into a smirk. He briefly breaks his contact with her to pull her hand from her face, pinning it by her wrist to the bed harshly.
“I want to hear you when I make you peak”
Her eyes are shut tightly, but Aemond doesn’t wait for an answer and goes right back in, licking and sucking her clit, one hand forever at her thigh to keep her open for him. He can feel her body trembling beneath him and the little sounds of her breath as she tries to keep it under control, and now that her hand is not muffling her sounds, he drinks in the various whimpers and tiny, tiny moans with renewed purpose.
She lets out halfway between a choked whimper and moan when Aemond mercilessly thrusts one finger into her, he moans against her sex at the tightness of her, and how she would feel when she was finally wrapped around his cock. How she’d squeeze him as he used her body for himself and milk him for his spend when her cunt convulsed with the force of her climax.
Aemond moved his head side to side against her sex, licking every bit of her he could as her moans had become louder. Stray tears ran down her face at the foreign feeling. It was strange and slightly unpleasant, as she’d never put anything inside her before. But his finger crooked up inside her slightly, rubbing against somewhere she never knew existed and it gave her the urge to move her hips, searching for something.
Uncaring if she was ready, Aemond hastened all his movements and inserted a second, stretching her little cunny with his long, thick digits. He thought she would need to be prepared, for when he would eventually have his cock inside of her.
It would hurt. It would be painful.
And it was this that excited him the most.
As he fucked her with his fingers, focussing his tongue on her clit quickly, he noted the way her body began to spasm in his grip. She was close, just that bit more.
He loved it when her pink lips parted to give him a quiet moan. It was like praise. And when he concentrated the pads of his fingers against that rough spot within her, her back began to move off the bed, her breath coming in hurried pants. Her tears joined the rest, sliding down her face at the absurdity of the feeling she was having. What was this? Was this pleasure? What everyone else sought so much? It didn’t feel entirely pleasurable, she thought. But there was something deep, dark about the way it was being drawn from her that set shame heavy in her.
“Come on, sweet girl…” Aemond murmurs against her, “come on”
He keeps his mouth on her the entire time, body wracked with painful pleasure. So much so that even her voice doesn’t manage to form coherently and her mouth is slack open, frozen in place as the warmth floods her body against her will.
“That’s it…” he coos, all while his tongue earnestly laps up every single bit of her climax from her, drinking it down like the air he breathes. Aemond can’t help but smile, now that he’s tasted her, seen what she looks like when she comes apart. He can’t not have her and fully intends to have her little cunny at his disposal. One hand dips beneath his breeches, to pump himself, feeling that he did not need much friction to climax himself.
Her body slumps against the mattress, limbs now entirely limp and feeling both warm and empty at the same time. She eventually cracks her eyes open when Aemond delivers one more warm, stripe upwards, collecting what little is left of her. She looks up to the ceiling, to the canopy and realises her vision is fogged with tears and her hand comes up to wipe at them, now being able to feel the wetness of them against her cheeks.
Aemond had travelled up her body, still furiously stroking his cock, aching for completion.
“Do not let it go to waste” he ordered, holding his manhood close to her mouth as he fisted it furiously, fingers once again running through her hair to grip harshly as he pulled at the back of her head.
Without warning, he shoves his cock into her mouth, prodding the back of her throat and moaning loudly when she splutters around it, having not been prepared. She could smell his musky scent, now even more amplified from his efforts on her previously and it completely flooded her senses. Not a second later, was the familiar flood of his spend into her mouth as he softly thrusted into her, wanting to prolong his friction.
He took one long breath and pulled his cock from her mouth. But her eyes were firmly shut, whimpering as she swallowed the thick, bitter substance. Again.
She had a strange thought. That there may have been more spend than food in her belly. And it rattled her beyond comprehension.
Why am I crying, she thought, having not felt them even come. Her body felt strange, like she was on the outside looking in at herself and she wondered how pathetic she must look. She wondered how other people would look at her if they saw what trouble she’d gotten herself into. What other people thought…
…it frightened her.
Regaining her strength, she finally sits up, looking around bleary-eyed to see Aemond, on the other side of the room, already seated in his armchair with a cup of wine in one hand, watching the flames of the fire in front of him. She could see from this angle that his lips and the skin around it was glistening and his other hand was at his lips, smearing whatever wetness was there more over them. She wondered how long she had been laid there.
In the soft light of the fire, he almost looked handsome. She thought that he, Aemond Targaryen, would be remembered as a skilled swordsman, rider of the largest dragon in the world, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. History books would record him for centuries to come, on his skills, his wit, his fearsome victories.
And she…
…She who had been owned first by her father. And now owed her life to servitude under him. She had always been owned and perhaps always would be. Any husband would own her as well as her money and her children, doomed by the determination of her sex to perform the duties of them for the rest of her life.
History would not remember her. It would scarcely even know she existed in the first place. Even her own name would not even be remembered by those she worked alongside, she feared. Those she called her friends.
Forgotten. Replaceable.
Gathering her breath and wiping her face, she’s unable to control the soft pants of her weak cries and pulls her dress back over herself. Aemond turns, but does not look at her straight on.
“Leave” he orders flatly.
She would be shocked, if it hadn’t already happened before. So she took shakily to her feet, feeling entirely degraded and empty within, despite the hum of pleasure still present inside. He didn’t say anything else as she struggled out of the door, her hair still loose around her shoulders.
It was only when she was in the lit safety of the hallway that she finally allows herself to comprehend what happened and a few more fat tears make their way down her face and her neck.
Am I his maidservant, or his whore.
Maidservant.
Whore.
Whore.
The way back to the staff quarters was long and wracked with quiet sobs.
She’d brushed Hedi’s shoulder as she walked past and Hedi had looked wide-eyed at her, as if only just recognising her with her hair down. Hedi’s face immediately fell into a sombre, sorrowful one,
“Child, what is wrong?” she says, cupping her face in both her hands and looking over her for any sign of injury. She simply shook her head and hastily wiped her cheeks til they were red,
“I am just tired, please Hedi I-”
Hedi pressed a hand to her forehead, acting very much like a mother, despite the age gap being small between them, but she found no fever there and she was only very warm from all her crying.
“Why is your hair down, child?” she asks hesitantly, her eyes darting about her face in search of a clue. Hedi had noticed. Her loose hair, her two undone buttons, the shake of her hands.
“Please, I just need sleep” she insisted unconvincingly, tearing herself from Hedi’s grasp to wander through the halls to her own quarters, intent on scrubbing herself raw once again with the brush. Desperately trying to erase any memory of touch.
Hedi had watched her disappear, the other few maidservants followed with their looks, cementing their thoughts in their sour expression.
“Whore”
General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics
Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx @daemonlover @iiamthehybrid @thedamewithabook @hiatuswhore @apollonshootafar @ladymarg0t
*Bold means I couldn’t tag, DM me if you wanna be removed besties
578 notes
·
View notes
Dangerous Games - I
✮ Pairing: Aonung x Tayrangi/Omotikaya fem reader
✮ Tags: Reader POV, oral sex (fem recieving), p in v, a bet, fighting, sparring, banter, fluff
✮ Word Count: 4.3k
Note: this (backstory and character dynamic) is heavily based of my wattpad fanfiction "Dangerous Game", it's just a little more mature than I would post on my WP so I'm doing a Aonung x reader part now instead of the Aonung x OC in the fanfiction ˙ᵕ˙
Aonung has been infuriating since he came to the forest, his family and Rotxo seeking Uturu with the Sully's just as they had several years before in the reef.
Being practically adopted into Jake and Neytiri's family when you too sought Uturu with the Omotikaya after the destruction of the Tayrangi clan, they felt that entitled you to also care for the newcomers. You could get behind helping kind Tsireya and shy sweet Rotxo, but Aonung was a whole other problem. He was absolutely infuriating, and he seemed to be totally obsessed with you.
Neteyam, Lo'ak and Kiri had told you all about what a skxawng he'd been during their first month in the reef, but he didn't seem to be at all deterred by your "forest" features- no, instead you were the one that was slightly haughty to him, something he seemed to take as a challenge. Aonung has been increasingly more and more obvious in his exploits, needing extra help with his ikran, making more sly comments and requesting more private lessons for archery.
So once again here you are, heading further away from the Omotikaya village and into your little clearing by the river where you train him in the Omoticaya ways of fighting and steer him away from the techniques that may have once worked in the reef- but definitely wouldn't work here in the forest.
Aonung has definitely improved in his fighting, a big thanks to your violent and rigorous (at best) training. At least Tsireya and Rotxo are getting less and less scandalised from the injuries he returns with after you're done fighting him.
You can feel yourself growing less and less irritated by everything he does - the stupid way he stares when he thinks you won't notice, the way he tries to make stupid jokes to break your deadpan expression, the way his stupid blue eyes sparkle when you make eye contact - as you start to notice the other things about him.
"Up," you bark as he staggers from a particularly hard kick to his knee.
As you wait for him to recover (he's wasting time being a drama queen), you study him.
The Metkayina have a much more different physique to you. Like his father, Aonung is just ridiculously massive, a good head and a half taller than you are. Did he always look like this, with his hair braided back and muscles taut as he grits his teeth?
He is broad and wide, something you had already noticed, but there are things you hadn't. Like the curve of his shoulders and the way they rolled gracefully when he moved. The sharpness of his collarbones and jawline, or the way his lashes curled so gently. There is a slight X shape to his ribcage, his stomach toned and muscly just like the rest of him, tapering into a slim waist.
"Checking me out?" he grins.
"Yes," you say shamelessly, holding his bright blue gaze. "If only you could use your massive body to fight, instead of lumbering around being a burden for me."
"Well maybe there's something else I could use my massive body for," Aonung says.
You squint your eyes at him then raise your brows.
"We've been over this fish boy," you remind him. "I find your attention ... flattering. But I don't fuck newcomers. Earn my trust, then we can see what happens. It's been weeks, if you're really that desperate for a quick fuck, try the village girls."
Aonung just leans back against the ground and grins up at you.
"You'll find them... easier," you say, curling your lip slightly on the last word. "They like pretty things."
"You find me pretty then?"
This bitch does not listen to a word you say.
"It takes more than a pretty face and some flirty little comments to interest me," you shrug.
"I promised I'd charm you one day," Aonung says, not in the least deterred by your subtle rejection.
"And I said it'd take a century for me to even trust you," you hiss. "Let alone fuck you-"
"So why don't we make another deal then?" Aonung asks innocently.
Your eyes narrow, but you don't instantly shut him down, something he quickly notices because he grins and flops back up.
"If I can beat you in this next fight," Aonung proposes, "then I get to teach you."
"I doubt there's much you can teach me," you say coldly, leaning against the tree and raising your brows at him.
"You'd be surprised," he says, smiling like he knows something you don't. "You're missing out."
"I'm really not."
"You taught me the ways of the forest," he counters. "Then I can show you the ways of the reef."
"Right," you scoff. "Is that just fucking underwater then? Cause I'm not exactly in the mood to be slammed against the riverbed by a clumsy massive skxawng, thanks."
Aonung laughs, the damn muscles in his arms catching the stupid light as he crosses them.
"Are you backing down then?" he grins. "Shame, I thought you were braver than that."
You scowl.
On one hand, you have more pride than to give in to this flirty horny skxawng that pisses you off all day with his neediness and accident-proneness, needing you to make sure he doesn't fall to his death or get eaten by forest creatures every five fucking seconds.
On the other, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He must have gained something from all those times he just sits and stares shamelessly at you, eyes roving over your body and face as though he's trying to soak you all in and understand you.
And it doesn't hurt that he's probably the tallest, most muscular thing you've ever seen in your life, that his hands alone could almost be double the size of yours, that you're already hot from training.
You haven't had any time for sexual relief since the five Metkayina came to the forest seeking Uturu, and you've hardly had a moment alone with anyone without Aonung needing extra training or some other bullshit.
You're considering it, and you can tell he knows you're considering it, because he straightens up and grins.
"I promise," he says, blinking sincerely at you to mask the glitter in those large blue eyes, "it'll be worth your time. I'll impress you."
"Will you?" you say, raising your brows at him. "You don't have the best stamina when it comes to fighting-"
"Is it a deal or not?" he grumbles. "I have no intention of seeking some village girls."
You blink at this, surprised. You had just assumed he was chasing you to prove some kind of point, and when he got sick of it he'd go and find relief with someone easier.
"Fine," you say.
His ears instantly prick up, as though that wasn't at all what he expected you to say despite the fact he hadn't left you alone for two fucking hours since he came to the forest.
"But remember one thing," you snap. "This doesn't mean anything, nothing intimate, no strings attached. This is a one-time thing that stays between us if you even manage to beat me, which is a big if."
You straighten up as Aonung shrugs his agreement and adjust your stance ready to fight.
To your surprise, there's a glint in his fucking eyes that's familiar, but you've never seen it this bright. It's the same glimmer every time you fight or touch but he always seems to be restraining it, hiding it behind sly grins and stupid smirky comments.
For the first time since you've known him, Aonung looks like he's ready to fight you, that he's confident, determined to win.
Strange that this newfound enthusiasm to finally fight back just happens to coincide with the fact that in beating you, he has the opportunity to finally fuck for the first time since the reef.
"Come on then," you bait him, not fool enough to make the first move. "Don't be scared to fight me, pretty boy."
He laughs, but your narrowed grins quickly fade as you begin to fight.
You can sense the difference now, his blows quick and powerful, eyes narrowed in concentrated determination. He seems to have spent more time familiarising himself with your techniques while you trained him rather than actually adopting them, but he's managing each of your blows with power finally fitting to his stupid size.
You feel your breath growing shorter and yourself slowing somewhat.
Finally, Aonung sweeps his longer thicker tail under you and knocks your legs out in a way that a forest na'vi could never, and you topple down onto the soft forest floor below. Before you can slide away or leap up, he's down as well, pinning your arms above your head with one hand and holding your body flat against the ground with the other.
"I win," he grins, fangs glinting down at you.
"How did you manage that," you squint at him, to which his grin widens.
"Stamina," he whispers slyly in your ears, breath fanning lightly across your neck.
You scoff, very aware of what this now means when you wriggle under him and feel something hard against your thigh.
"That was fast," you comment, grinning up at him.
"I've been waiting for this," is all he replies with before he releases you and is sitting back with a shameless grin.
You have no intention of backing out now. You always keep my word and moreover, you're not going to look like a coward in front of this stupid skxawng. You blink at Aonung, silently waiting for him to make the first move.
Let's see how impressive you are, fishlips.
You half expect him to just pounce on you - like he said, you'd had made him wait a long time. Now you're just hot from the fight and weeks without any relief, and it can't exactly hurt to see what this annoying but grudgingly massive and stupidly hot skxawng has to offer.
When you meet his sparkling blue gaze, there's not a single thing you can read. Usually, his thoughts and emotions are plastered all over his face but now he's holding them close, determined to surprise you. To impress you.
As he shifts closer, you can't help noticing just how large and almost tantalising the bulge in his tewng looks, and you feel my anticipation increase.
But to you surprise, before he does anything, Aonung pauses and blinks at you.
"Are you sure?" he asks with surprising gentleness, and you frown.
"You don't have to do that," you shrug. "You won fair and square."
"You can always stop if you don't want to," he says firmly.
"I doubt it'll come to that," you say with a small incredulous smile at his strange newfound gentleness. "I think it'll be you that can't keep up with me, pretty boy."
Again, Aonung just grins at you before sliding closer.
You're surprised when, instead of flipping you over or immediately moving to grope at you, he kisses you.
He's completely consuming you as he tugs you closer. His arms encircle you, his hands resting gently on your waist and back and hair. He is so warm, smelling faintly of amber and sea breeze.
His lips are gentle at first, tender, exploratory. Then hungry. Everything about you is a total embodiment of your distaste for him and his desire for you as you tangle and move and kiss and breathe.
Then as you feel yourself relax, resigning to the kiss (it's a grudgingly good kiss), and he tugs you closer, lifting you up and into his lap as though you weigh nothing.
You always knew he was strong; he wouldn't be this fucking massive if he wasn't, but this casual display of his strength doesn't exactly turn you off him, especially when his lips trail sideways and find a snug spot on the corner of your jaw, then slide down your neck.
Aonung is confident in his movements, you can feel him smiling against your skin as he kisses and sucks lightly, leaving a fine trail of small bruises. He knows he's a good kisser, and he doubtless knows what he's doing when his hands fall exploratively on the curve of your ass and he gives an experimental squeeze.
Stupid skxawng.
You audibly gasp somewhat, and he gives you a cocky pleased smile.
He's all hot and big and slightly messy, his warm mouth trailing kisses down your neck and hands sliding away your tewng. His eyes are bright with excitement and dark with desire as his hands tug down your tewng.
You reach for his own loincloth, but he's already sliding down your body, hands gripping your thighs tightly. You frown at him as he looks up at you, fangs glinting between his shiny, parted, grinning lips.
"Don't you want to-" you start to say with furrowed brows.
"I said I'd impress you, didn't I?" Aonung points out, still holding your thighs as he spreads them slightly.
"Well, it'll take longer if you-" you start to point out, before the skxawng interrupts you again.
He grunts, like he has all the fucking time in the world with you, spreading your thighs wide and licking a slow stripe up your slit with a flattened tongue. He shakes his head back and forth when his tongue reaches your clit.
You exhale shakily, trying your best not to moan and let him get a big head, but your hand instantly jumps to his hair.
"I could have stuff to do after this," you grumble instead.
Instead of replying or just sticking his damn dick in, he grazes his teeth lightly across the skin of your inner thigh, and you shudder. When he looks up at you and sees your eyes scrunched tight, he grins and lightly nips at your thighs.
You gasp loudly, but the sting is a welcome, warm pain when he lightly licks away the droplet of blood and brushes your clit with a large turquoise finger.
Aonung's grin only widens when you don't pretend to be busy, and he muscles your thighs further apart so he can slide his tongue against your clit again, adding his cool fingers and yanking you forward to bury his whole damn face between your legs.
You can feel your top shifting over your breasts, which are heaving with your shaky breaths in the effort it takes not to cry out when Aonung sucks lightly at your clit.
Your hands are now tangled in the braided bun on his head, and at another light nip at your thighs, you find yourself tugging at his hair. He groans against you as you accidentally tug, trying your best to steady yourself when every five fucking seconds, he has your back arching halfway to the Hallelujah mountains.
"Fuck," you groan, when his fingers hit a deeper spot, and he looks up at you for the first time.
There's a delighted, puppy-playful glint in his large blue eyes, and you realise he's genuinely enjoying this, the curves of your body in his hands, the spit slick and tiny pearls of blood from his bites gleaming on his grinning face.
The fact that you're trying so hard to hide your moans that you're completely breathless now is amusing him, and you realise at some point he tossed your legs over his shoulders so his face is pressed even closer to you.
You moaned, one hand entangled with his braids while the other scratched at his shoulder.
"Go on then," Aonung mumbles.
"Just stick it in," you grumble, stifling your moans long enough to choke out those three words. "I'm fucking ready-"
"Impatient," he smirks against you, before diving back down.
Aonung devoures you, sucking hard and persistent until you cry out, his hands locking you in an iron grip, keeping you spread wide for him. Each time you try to breathe, your breath is knocked away by each movement of his tongue and fingers.
It doesn't take much longer before the pleasure snaps and you're unable to hold back your moans anymore, just sinking your fangs into your hand to block out as much noise as possible, but a flood of moans and whimpers and curses spill out through the clearing as your vision clouds.
Aonung is still sucking when you come back, hands planted tight on your squirming body, and you lightly push away his head from your overstimulated clit.
"Alright," you huff, trying in vain to catch your breath. "You proved your point skxawng."
He looks delighted with himself, a stupid grin fixed on his face which is shining with spit and slick, which he carelessly wipes away with a large hand before sitting back up.
He looks painfully hard now, the seams of his tewng stretching tightly over the massive bulge in his tewng.
"Still more to impress me with though," you whisper lightly, sliding closer so you're now straddling his lap.
A small smile creeps over your lips when you feel his breath hitch as you settle over his lap and he spread his legs enough for you to settle between them. When you finally pull of his loincloth, you can't help feeling stunned at the very least.
He's fucking massive- the same smooth teal colour as the rest of him, adorned with slimmer turquoise stripes and glowing blue tahnì. You can't help reaching out to touch him, and he hisses slightly under his breath as you wrap one hand around his very... sizeable length.
He looks painfully hard, and you can't stop a small grin as you meet his gaze. His face is close to yours, pupils blown wide in his large blue eyes as he watches your every movement with near obsession. But neither of you are bothered to waste more time- it's pretty obvious where this shit is headed and theres no point prolonging it.
"Careful," Aonung nearly hisses when you shift in his lap. "You're still fucking tiny."
You glare at him.
"Not very impressive argument," you point out. "Not a great way to get someone to fuck you."
"How do you want it then," Aonung huffs, tucking your hair behind your ears.
It's a strangely intimate gesture for no-strings one-time sex, and you feel a small shiver at the base of your neck.
"Surprise me," you grin. "You're meant to be impressing me, aren't you."
He just laughs in his usual deep rumbly way before sitting up slightly and lightly pushing gently at your shoulders. You humour him, raising your brows but settling comfortably back against the soft ground.
He grins at your uncharacteristic agreeableness and lines the head of his cock up with your entrance.
Immediately, you know it'll be a stretch, but you're determined to make it work. In any case, you'd rather die before telling stupid Aonung"you're to big".
But when he pushes in somewhat, you both hiss.
You're being stretched further than you ever have, and Aonung is making a strange growling noise under his breath.
He's purring.
"Fuck," he mutters, as he tries to push in a little more and you clench around him. "So fucking- you need to relax."
"I am relaxed," you snap, gritting your teeth and trying to sink yourself deeper.
He looks amused at the sight of you trying to fuck yourself onto his dick, and he tightly grips your hips to hold you still.
"Just breathe," Aonung grunts, looking as though he's trying to hold himself back.
"Just fuc- just fucking put it in," you whine, glaring at him. "I'm not some precious little thing you need to be gentle with, I thought you were meant to be impressing me."
Aonung pauses, looking like he's trying to decide something, then his face hardens and he snaps his hips deep into you. You cry out like a wounded animal and Aonung groans like a dying man.
The stretch is a delicious burn as Aonung rocks his hips deeper, until he's as far in as he's going to get, before he pulls out nearly to the tip. When you turn to glare at him, he snaps his hips forward again and you have no choice but to cling onto him.
His lips find his way on your neck, your nails digging into his broad back as he rolls his hips and thrusts deep into you. You can't hold it back anymore, moaning shamelessly like a whore into his ear all the while scratching your mark into his back.
He, in turn, is moaning and cursing against your neck, his mouth all messy, nipping and kissing along your neck and collar and chest until he reaches your top.
You practically cry out your consent before Aonung is ripping it away - careful not to tear anything because he knows you'd murder him - and tossing it away without a care in the world to be discarded with the rest of your clothes.
He hisses as your tits are freed, bouncing with every thrust and pushed up against his chest as he thrusts deeper and deeper, his large hands coming up to grip them on the border of being too rough.
After a few experimental movements that have you nearly whimpering, he moves deep and quick, spitting curses and groans at the feeling of you around him and the sound of your shameless moans in his ears.
He's whispering nearly unintelligible things against your neck, words of worship, mutters of how tight you are, little praise of how well you're doing.
He's moving at animalistic paces, and you're unravelling into a moaning, trembling mess under him, teeth sunk into his shoulder to try and quiet your sounds, because you sure as fuck can't hold them in.
"Aonung," you hiss, "I'm- I'm close."
"Go ahead then," he grins, before sinking his teeth lightly into your collar.
With that, you unravel, crying out and arching so you're pressed right up against him. Your vision blanks out as everything disappears for a moment, the only sound in the world being your cries and Aonung's groaned curses.
He fucks you through your high, wave upon wave of overwhelming pleasure cresting in white-hot disbelief. Then, when you're done, like a true gentleman, he lets himself go. He's hissing a million unintelligible words against your skin as he spills himself inside you, rocking his hips the whole time until he finally comes to a shaky stop.
"Holy shit," Aonung mutters, flopping to the soft grass beside you.
You're hardly about to admit this to him, but you can feel your body half-turned to jelly, your heart pounding like drums and your skin burning all over from where he kissed and touched and nipped at you.
As though he read your thoughts, Aonung quickly rolls over to look at you, eyes roving all over the bruises and hickeys and tiny bite marks he left all over you.
"Oh shit- sorry," he mutters, noticing the way several small pearls of blood are beading like tiny rubies on your shiny, sweat-slicked skin. "I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine," you sigh, not in the least bothered by the marks.
Or at least, not bothered by the pain of them.
But the little rich purple hickeys and gleaming crimson nips he left across your body just feel like something... more. More than hot, desperate, no-strings-attached sex. They feel intimate and precious, a gift you you and a warning to others.
A claiming.
You stifle a groan as you slide up, feeling stupid and tender yet doubtless euphoric as you twist your dark hair out of your still flushed face and pin it up out of the way.
"So?" Aonung asks, a small, stupid grin on his shiny-eyed face, as though he knew exactly how he did. "Impressed?"
You groan, covering your flushed face and swatting at him, but he just grabs your hand and tugs you closer so you're now inches apart on the soft forest floor.
"Come on," he grins. "It's just us here."
"Fine," you grumble. "You did better than I thought, pretty boy."
Aonung's ears prick up and his tail swishes excitedly behind him at the sound of your approval like a little warrior seeking praise from their commander.
His delight at the bare fucking minimum of your words is slightly pathetic - your response sounded grudging and unenthused even to your own ears - but also kind of totally adorable.
You've done as much as you can to push him away, drive off his ceaseless efforts of amused and somewhat clumsy seduction and try to get him to find other girls and fucking finally leave you in peace. You just hope whatever point he's trying to prove in his strange and inexplicable fixation with you is finally satiated now you fucked.
You definitely don't need the opposite, some ridiculously massive, pussy-whipped reef boy on your ass every fucking minute, trying to get all close and intimate and trusting with you.
You suddenly become aware that both of you had fallen silent, lost in your own thoughts in the aftermath of that ... admirable sex, and you turn back to look at Aonung. His eyes are fixed in your face - not, surprisingly, on your still bare body - and all large and wide and sparkling blue like the shallows of ocean water.
"We should get back to the village," you mumble, not meeting his gaze and quickly reaching for your top to cover yourself.
You feel Aonung frown slightly, know he's going to say something all stupid and intimate and caring as you curl your tail closer around yourself, so you add- "Tsireya and Rotxo will be worried for you."
To your relief, Aonung accepts this hasty pretence and closes his mouth, though you can sense that he still wants to say that sweet thing.
"Doubtful," he shrugs instead. "They know I'm with you - I don't think anything would manage to get close to killing us if you're here."
"How sweet," you roll your eyes, clasping your top back into place and turning to find a small frown on his face. "Very flattering."
"And what do we tell everyone when they ask what happened?" he asks.
"What do you mean?"
Aonung laughs dryly.
"You know perfectly well that those marks didn't come from fighting," he clarifies, glancing pointedly at the various nips and hickeys that aren't covered by my top.
"They could have," you say defensively. "They don't need to know-"
"Yeah well I know for a fact that Lo'ak isn't going to believe that you got hickeys from sparring, or that you tripped and got little bites all along your inner thighs."
You scowl at him and quickly close your legs, but the stupid skxawng has a point.
"Maybe you should have just been more gentle," you point out. "Like maybe not biting and kissing me fucking everywhere."
Aonung just shrugs shamelessly, eyes roving over you again.
"Yeah I'm sure you hated it," he grins. "I could tell by the way you were moaning in my ear the whole time."
You just scowl at him and stalk away, trying your best to walk straight so he won't get a big head about the shakiness in your legs.
"You are such a skxawng," you hiss.
"Alright," he shrugs, hurrying a little to keep up with you. "Whatever you say yawne."
340 notes
·
View notes
Some interesting news from India!
In its verdict, the court said that the wife had contributed equally towards acquiring family assets by doing domestic chores.
It said that the "contribution made by either the husband by earning or the wife by serving and looking after the family and children" would mean that "both are entitled equally to whatever they earned by their joint effort".
It did not matter in whose name the property was bought - the spouse who looked and cared after the family would be entitled to an equal share in them.
The court also held that the woman's domestic labour contributed indirectly to earning the money that enabled the purchase of the assets and that her work allowed the husband to be gainfully employed.
The wife works for 24 hours in various roles, including that of a chef, a "home doctor" and a "home economist", the court said. In the absence of the homemaker's duties, the husband would have to pay for the services these roles provided.
Women's rights lawyer Flavia Agnes called it a "very positive judgement because it recognises women's domestic labour".
Malavika Rajkotia, a family and property lawyer, said the verdict was "a very important milestone", one that women had been "trying to evolve and plead in their various cases".
"This is, for the first time, a meaningful recognition of the homemaker's right."
So the hope is that the judgement could have a positive impact in future.
331 notes
·
View notes
One thing I find particularly insidious about female socialization is the way women internalize sexism and then go on to perpetuate it against one another. Society doesn't grant women personhood by default, it sees them as objects, and from a young age girls are told that if they want to be considered people then they have to fight for it. They have to earn it. And as long as you're likened to another woman, AKA "an object", you are failing in your own attempts at being a person.
There is then an intense pressure and desperation placed on the woman to set herself apart from other women which society is eager to provide "solutions" for. Shave your legs. Slather your face in makeup. Dress this way, but not quite that way, and definitely not that way. You silly thing, that's already out of season. Are you even trying? She is constantly asked to do more to prove herself, and nothing she does is ever enough. Patriarchal society cruelly dangles it's perception of personhood in front of her like a fruit atop a branch just out of reach.
The woman then grows resentful towards herself for failing to live up to the idealized image society expects of her. Her behaviours become increasingly cruel and self-punishing, thinking that everything would be fine as long as she could force herself to be a certain way, that maybe she could finally become a person with just a little bit more suffering. In actuality, the woman is already a person. She was entitled personhood by being born a human. However, her conditioning is so strong that it becomes impossible for her to see this.
Under these conditions, class consciousness among women becomes very difficult. Women are raised from birth not to see women as people. They are taught to assume women are objects. And so, when the woman engages with another woman, she begins to measure herself against the other, ranking their relative "personhoods". She becomes smugly self-satisfied if she believes she comes out on top, and despairing if she concludes the other woman to be superior to her in some way.
If the other is perceived to be particularly bad at the performance of personhood, the woman might feel incensed to correct her behaviours, either through passive-aggressive pity or outright cruelty. This stems from a warped desire to improve her own image by correcting the overall perception of women in general. If the other is perceived to be particularly superior, the woman might feel incensed to attack the other and bring her down to her level. This stems from a desire to punish the other for acting above her station as an object. Either way, the woman's self-loathing is such that she feels an intense need to put down other women in order to elevate herself.
True solidarity among women can only come about when women stop perpetuating patterns of thought engineered by patriarchal society to keep them down. First, the woman must accept herself as a person with no conditions. Her personhood is innate and entitled to her as a human and nothing can take that away. Similarly, she cannot augment herself to be more or less of a person by engaging in certain actions or purchasing certain products. Then, she must extend this understanding to all other women. She does not have to agree with them, or even like them, but she must be able to conceptualize them as whole beings with their own personhood. She can no longer treat them as if they are empty objects to project her own insecurities onto. Only once she has done the work to accept this can she become a positive force for change within her class.
66 notes
·
View notes