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plutosunshine · 5 months

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What blocks your success? Mars in signs

Your Mars tells about how you act and make decisions. Let's see what doesn't let you succeed.

Mars in Aries

Mars in Aries is an intriguing astrological placement that gives you a quick, fiery, and decisive nature. You tend to be bold and eager to take action, never shying away from a challenge or opportunity. However, your impulsive tendencies can sometimes get the best of you, causing you to act before thinking things through. It's important to check the aspects and house your Mars is in if you struggle to make decisions or act purposefully.

While you may not be afraid to take action, you often find yourself regretting your hasty decisions later on. This fear of making mistakes can sometimes hold you back, preventing you from acting and moving forward. Although fear can be a helpful guide, it can also hinder your ability to take calculated risks and pursue your goals.

In the moment of making a decision, you feel motivated and inspired, convinced that you're on the right path. However, the reactive nature of Mars in Aries can sometimes make you feel like you want everything right now without considering the long-term consequences. It can lead to impulsive actions that you later regret. By understanding your tendencies and working to balance your desire for action with thoughtful consideration, you can make the most of your Mars in Aries placement and achieve your goals with confidence and purpose.

Mars in Taurus

Have you ever felt like you're unable to take action because of the fear of wasting your time and energy? This mindset can cause you to be in a constant state of energy conservation, only engaging in activities you deem helpful or worthy. When faced with a problem, you tend to take your time to think it through, even if you've already come up with a solution. You wait, hoping the problem will resolve itself rather than taking a risk or seizing the opportunity to act.

The idea of wasting your time and energy is a significant concern, so always create a plan to minimize your resource expenditure. While being cautious is important, this mindset may hold you back from taking advantage of potential opportunities and achieving your goals.

Mars in Gemini

As a Gemini Mars, your mutable nature can sometimes hinder your ability to take action when faced with a problem. You possess many ideas for solving said problem, but the challenge lies in selecting the most optimal solution. Seeking advice from your friends and loved ones is a common practice, as it helps you gain a broader perspective and consider different angles. While communication is an important part of your problem-solving process, it's just one of the ways you approach the task at hand. You tend to share your ideas and receive advice but ultimately make your own decisions. During a conversation, you may indicate that a particular solution is the best option, only to change your mind later. It is because you weigh your options and consider different perspectives before making a final decision. Ultimately, what matters is that you come to a decision that aligns with your values and feels right to you.

Mars in Cancer

It's a common experience to find oneself blocked from taking action due to overwhelming emotions. In such moments, rational thinking seems impossible, as you tend to be hindered by your feelings and lose sight of the problem. It's easy to take things personally and fail to see the bigger picture, which can cause you to withdraw entirely and shut down in certain situations. However, suppressing our emotions doesn't make them disappear; it only creates more frustration.

Cancer Mars individuals are known to be emotional and sensitive. However, at times, they tend to suppress their emotions, which can lead to stress and anxiety. They need to find a way to express their emotions healthily. They should not fear their feelings, as they are part of who they are.

It is important to note that Cancer Mars individuals should not let their emotions control their actions. Instead, they should find a balance between their emotions and rational thinking. By doing so, they can achieve their goals without being too hard on themselves.

Mars in Leo

It's common for your pride and fear of failure to become significant barriers to action. Your initial reaction may be to ignore the problem and shift the blame onto someone else. Meanwhile, your fear of failure can be so overwhelming that you become paralyzed and unable to take action.

You may have an intense desire to be the best, but the thought of failing in front of others can be terrifying. It can cause you to hesitate and second-guess yourself, preventing you from taking the necessary steps to solve the problem. Ultimately, it would help if you recognized that failure is an inevitable part of the learning process and that it's okay to make mistakes. The key is to persevere and learn from your failures, using them as stepping stones to future success.

Mars in Virgo

Do you ever find yourself stuck in a cycle of planning and strategizing, only to feel like your plans are never perfect enough to put into action? This mindset can be incredibly limiting, causing you to hold back from taking action because you fear failure or losing control. It can be challenging to balance caution and action; sometimes, your desire for control over every little detail can become paralyzing.

The fear of chaos and uncertainty can be so overwhelming that you spend too much time analyzing and overthinking, causing the problem to worsen. It's important to recognize when pursuing perfection hinders your progress and to take imperfect action to move toward your goals.

Also, you tend to overthink your problems, thinking about every scenario that may or may not happen. Ultimately, you can't see the bigger picture.

Mars in Libra

At times, it's not uncommon for this placement to feel stuck and unsure of which direction to take. One possible reason for this could be indecisiveness. Overanalyzing and weighing the pros and cons of every action can make decision-making a daunting task.

Additionally, if you're in a co-dependent relationship, you may rely heavily on your partner's opinion when it comes to making choices. It can lead to planning your actions based on your partner's life rather than your own. If you recognize these tendencies in yourself, it's important to be mindful and make sure you're making decisions that align with your own desires and goals.

Mars in Scorpio

You possess a remarkably vibrant and tenacious personality, with Mars in Scorpio accentuating your drive and passion. However, this may lead you to adopt an "all or nothing" approach toward your endeavors, and it can be challenging for you to regulate your resources effectively, resulting in a sense of stagnation and frustration. Perhaps you've been pushing yourself too hard, and now you're feeling burnt out and unproductive. In such cases, taking a break and restoring your energy levels is crucial.

Moreover, your inclination towards being overly cautious, suspicious, and fearful may also hinder you from taking necessary actions. You can perceive what is hidden beneath the surface, which could instill a sense of doubt and hesitation in you, making it difficult to trust your gut and act on your instincts. However, balancing prudence and action is essential to accomplish your objectives and success.

Mars in Sagittarius

Sagittarius Mars individuals are known for their enthusiastic and adventurous spirit. They are full of inspiration and ideas, always seeking new experiences and challenges to conquer. However, the problem with having so many interests and passions is that it can be difficult to focus all their energy on just one thing.

Sagittarius Mars natives constantly seek new opportunities and adventures, often feeling restless when stuck in one place or situation for too long. They crave variety and excitement, which can make it challenging to commit to a single project or goal. They may start multiple endeavors at once, only to lose interest or become distracted before they can see them through to completion.

While this can be frustrating for those around them, Sagittarius Mars individuals do not lack motivation or drive. They have too many interests and passions to pursue and struggle to choose just one. They may benefit from finding ways to channel their energy and focus on a particular goal or project while still allowing themselves the freedom to explore their other interests on the side.

Overall, Sagittarius Mars individuals have a lot of potential and creativity. Still, they may need to improve their focus and discipline to achieve their goals and dreams.

Mars in Capricorn

Capricorn Mars individuals are known for their dedication, persistence, and strategic thinking. They approach their goals with a powerful and determined mindset, willing to put in the hard work and effort to succeed. However, to truly excel, they need to have a goal they genuinely believe in and are passionate about.

Setbacks or obstacles do not easily deter Capricorn Mars natives. They are willing to put in the time and effort to achieve their goals and understand that success often requires a long-term approach. They are strategic thinkers who identify opportunities and plan their actions accordingly.

However, Capricorn Mars individuals may need a clear goal or purpose to channel their energy and focus. They need a driving force, a reason to invest their time and effort into a particular project or endeavor. They may benefit from reflecting on their values and priorities and identifying a goal that aligns with these beliefs.

Once they have a goal, Capricorn Mars individuals are a force to be reckoned with. They are willing to put in the hard work and dedication necessary to succeed and are not easily swayed by distractions or setbacks. They are powerful and determined, capable of achieving great things when they have a clear purpose and goal driving them forward.

Overall, Capricorn Mars individuals are powerful and strategic thinkers, but they need a strong sense of purpose and belief to excel truly. With a clear goal in mind, they can achieve great things and make a lasting impact in their chosen field.

Aquarius Mars

An Aquarius Mars person may get easily distracted from their goals by idealization. They tend to have a very idealistic approach to life, sometimes leading to a lack of focus and direction. They may become so absorbed in their dreams and ideals that they lose sight of the practical steps they need to take to achieve their goals. As a result, they may find themselves constantly starting new projects without ever following through on any of them. They need to learn to balance their idealism with a practical approach to achieving their goals.

An Aquarius Mars person has their Mars in a fixed sign, meaning they have the tenacity and determination to achieve whatever they put their mind to. However, they can sometimes get bogged down by their own idealism and lofty goals. To truly let their genius ideas bloom, they need to learn to let go of their idealization and embrace a more flexible approach. By doing so, they can harness their natural creativity and innovation to achieve great things and impact the world.

Pisces Mars

Pisces Mars individuals are known for their heightened intuition and empathetic nature. They possess a deep sense of compassion that enables them to connect with people on a deeper level. However, they may need help with logical thinking and practicality due to their tendency to get lost in their own thoughts and emotions. As a result, they may find it challenging to stay focused and organized, leading to a lack of structure in their lives. Additionally, their inclination towards idealism and vivid imagination may cause them to get lost in illusions and daydreams. Despite these challenges, their intuitive and compassionate nature allows them to offer a unique perspective and a deep understanding of others.

Lack of structure doesn't allow them to achieve goals persistently. These individuals start blaming themselves for not being good enough and get lost in regret and old traumas. You need to add some structure to your life in a way that works for you. You need to use all your senses to understand which kind of routine works for you.

#astrology #astro #natal chart #astro observations #birth chart #astro notes #astrology posts #zodiac #zodiac signs #mars in signs #mars

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lauraneedstochill · 7 months

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Confess the longing you are dreaming of

summary: Aemond thinks the woman he has to marry is the most impudent and unsufferable he’s ever met. He’s also never wanted anyone so badly. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader (third person, no mention of Y/N) warnings: bantering and teasing, mentions of unpleasant sexual experience, praise kink (guess who’s got it), a dollop of softness, mild smut (... for starters ;) author’s note: couldn’t get the idea out of my head and spent a few sleepless nights writing this. I imagine her brothers as Pedro Pascal and Oscar Isaac ✨ words: ~8000 song inspo: Hozier — Better love

>>> Aemond isn’t present when the idea is voiced the first time — he has a hunch that his grandsire is to blame for that. No doubt, Otto was the one to plan it out, come up with arguments served with his persuasive tone. He’s always loved to make arrangements and strike deals, each one of them to play into his hands, and Aemond hates the thought of being just another pawn of his.

He is blindsided at the breakfast but it’s made sound carelessly mundane — as Otto puts down his cup, he throws him the proposal, the way one would leniently throw alms to the poor. And Aemond thinks he must’ve heard him wrong.

“Marry me to... Who?” the prince asks, hardly covering his surprise.

His grandsire directs his gaze at him, the old man’s mouth twitching into a condescending smile. Since Otto isn’t keen on idle talk, he tells him plainly:

“You’ve long been of age, Aemond, you know that,” his knife scratches the plate as he cuts the meat, his eyes not moving from the prince. “House Martell holds power, and we’ll be fortunate to have such allies. Besides,” he pauses to take a bite, and Aemond gets annoyed at waiting; Otto chews, then adds, “I’ve only heard good things about your bride-to-be. Wouldn’t you confirm, Ser Criston?”

The mention of the knight is unexpected to them both — Aemond turns his head to meet Ser Criston’s puzzled look. But the brunet effortlessly copes with his emotions:

“We met when she was just a kid. But I knew she’d grow into a fine lady,” he easily agrees. Mayhaps, too easily for Aemond’s liking so he makes a note to talk about it later on.

His grandsire only lets out a pleased hum. “Well, I’m under the impression she will make a good match for our prince,” and Aemond feels that Otto carefully picks each word, “She’s said to be both beautiful and smart, and known for being quite independent,” he’s usually so stingy with his praise, it’s worth its weight in gold.

But that is not what Aemond hears. The choice was made for him, and his rejection of it makes him paint a portrait less alluring — a pompous wayward woman raised in the traditions that are starkly different from his; and yet, it is expected of him to accept it freely. His wounded ego simmers at the thought.

“I’d add another word to that,” Aegon chimes in, half-drunk already, “Everyone knows the Martells to also be promisc—”

“Look who’s talking,” Otto glares at him, and Aegon shuts his mouth.

The word is left unsaid, only the meaning of it isn’t hard to guess, and Aemond feels embarrassment creeping up his cheeks and weighting down his chest. He deems himself an educated man, well-read and eager to put his knowledge to the test, but he has yet to learn of carnal pleasures. A memory is clawing out: him, ten-and-three and plied with wine, laid on a bed that smelled of sweat, a naked woman next to him. Despite her tireless attempts, he wanted none of it, and the repulsion made him sick — and then it made him hate the act itself.

He did go to the brothel through the years, tried watching, touching, looked at bodies of all sorts, only it felt like putting paint over a rotten wall. He felt constrained, and lacking in some way (perhaps, in many), and more so awfully incomplete. Not once he sensed a spark, a pleasure he would crave, and no amount of effort could help him fill the emptiness inside.

He quells the feeling, pushes in indifference instead, and glances briefly at his mother. She meets his eye but only grants him a faint smile, her own gaze lacking any protest.

“Her brothers wrote that they would visit in a fortnight,” Alicent peacefully explains. “It is our duty to ensure a royal welcome.”

“Brothers?” Helaena blithely chirps. “How many does she have?”

“Four but only two of them are coming,” Otto tells her softly, then looks at Aemond, adding in a voice more wily. “I am convinced they really want to see whom their dear sister is about to marry.”

He doesn’t spell it out but the implication can’t be clearer — Aemond must play the part and make a good impression. As if impressing just one stranger wasn’t tedious enough.

As if he isn’t vexed already by how unsuitable he finds her.

>>> Frustration grows in Aemond with each day, takes roots, and clogs up all his thoughts. Some other man would’ve been glad — he often heard that the Martells are quite the lovers. He can’t admit it to himself how much he’s bothered by his own misfortunes on the love field.

He bottles his emotions up and doesn’t utter any word of discontent, nor does he ever speak of the awaited visit. Although he makes just one exception.

“My grandsire mentioned that you knew her,” he reminds Ser Criston one day after training.

The knight nods. “I crossed paths with Quentyn, he’s the oldest. She used to come to watch us train.”

“What was she like?” Aemond carefully wonders.

Ser Criston ponders for a minute, polishing his sword. “She was a quiet little girl, kept to herself. A lot of boys were always chasing after her, and she paid them all no mind,” he smiles at the memory. “But I remember one of them who was... particularly pesky. His charms didn’t work on her so he got offended, rude, followed her around. She tolerated him for over a month. One morning, he was hassling her in the training yard, and she just took a spear laying nearby — and smacked him with no warning,” he shakes his head but it’s apparent that he isn’t judging. “She didn’t use the pointy end but she got him good. And then she told him that next time he would think twice about his actions. She was impressive for a ten-year-old,” he muses and puts the sword away, then turns to Aemond, giving him a wistful stare. “Frankly, I think that you will like her.”

He does, for just a second, as his mind rushes to paint the image of a fearless little girl; and then he mercilessly wipes that image off. Maybe in other circumstances, he could’ve found amusement in that story, but Aemond only huffs and thinks back to the list of all her traits he prematurely made up. He adds “rebellious” to that list, and his self-doubt is a venom that clouds his judgment. He’s in no rush to find a cure.

>>> Their ship arrives a few hours earlier than planned — and after the dock watchers break the news, the bustle begins. Maids, servants, guards all run and faff about the castle, the dining hall gets filled with smells and noises, plates and dishes clanking.

Aemond is not excited in the slightest.

He dresses up reluctantly, each piece of clothes only dampening his mood that’s been already sour for the past two weeks. He all but drags his feet into the dining hall and by the time he reaches it, he looks so grim that one may think the prince’s preparing for his death, no less.

The minutes fly too quickly for his liking — they barely have time to sit, his mother nervously toying with the tablecloth already, and then the guards rush to announce the guests. Surprisingly, she’s not among them. The prince thinks he should be relieved; deep down, there is a splash of worry fizzling in him.

Her brothers walk in calmly in a cloud of servants bearing gifts. Their kinship is immediately clear — both tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-haired, self-confidence subsisting in their every step. The oldest is distinguished by a touch of gray in his short beard, his gaze more focused, a slight smile plastered on his face. The other one shamelessly stares at every maid his eyes can catch.

“Your grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Quentyn reaches their table first, and Alicent walks down to greet them. He keeps his distance and his smile, his tone is measured. “We were so sad to learn that the King has fallen sick. But I can tell the Kingdom is in great hands. And —”

“Women’s hands do have a healing touch,” Oberyn smoothly interrupts, his accent a bit thicker, his voice honeyed. “I will prefer a Queen over a King at any given day. Unless, of course, your husband can compete with you in beauty... I somehow doubt that.”

A shade of disapproval grazes Quentyn’s face but Alicent is too amazed to notice. The compliment may come off as blunt but she still takes it well, her smile embarrassed yet sincere.

“I hope you will enjoy your stay,” she tells them humbly, then looks over the crowd. “But may I ask where is the lady we’ve been waiting for?”

“She made a stop on our way to catch up with an old friend,” Quentyn answers, ready to explain, “It’s been years since we’ve met Ser —”

“Still can’t believe he is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” Oberyn chuckles. “I think it’s all the armor that makes it look like he poses a threat. But you may reconsider if you see him in the nude.”

This time, the older brother glares at him with warning, and there’s a lull in their conversation, while Aemond’s struggling to hear what made his mother’s cheeks so red, his mind nervously preoccupied with someone else —

her laughter enters first.

It’s bright and joyful, a sound so lovely it might be enough to crack up his restraint. But then he spots her, and it feels like his whole body flares up at the sight.

She’s walking with her hand under Ser Criston’s arm, and Aemond’s never seen a dress that covers so much but hides so little. It’s muted orange, floor-length, made of sumptuous silk, with two long slits along the sides, curves of her thighs beguilingly seen through. Her neck and arms aren’t covered, and the material is intricately stitched around her waist to show a few more glimpses of her sun-kissed skin. The waves of her long hair fall on her shoulders and frame her face, each feature of it striking but her lips stand out the most — full, plump, and reddish. Not once before Aemond found the thought of being kissed so tempting.

She doesn’t even turn her head to look at him. She’s talking to Ser Criston quietly, and he’s engaged in conversation, unusually relaxed. Their difference in age is obvious, and the knight seems like just another relative of hers, but an uneasy feeling still leaves a bite on Aemond’s chest. He can’t imagine her so carefree — so beaming and compliant — by his side. His jealousy tastes bitter like a stale wine.

He hears his brother let out a short laugh. “It’s not like they were fucking,” Aegon carelessly notes. “Please ease your outrage before she runs away.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice,” Aemond snarls.

“You do look like you need it,” the blond comments, then goes back to drinking.

She gracefully approaches them, her voice melodic like a murmur of a river. “Forgive me, your grace, for being late, I haven’t seen Ser Criston in some time,” she tells his mother. “He was once a dear friend of mine.”

“I only helped to shush away a few of your admirers,” the knight cackles, earning a smile from her.

“I hope you are making use of all his talents,” she says to the Queen, making her face flush right away.

She delicately moves on to another topic. “It is a pleasure to have you here, you must be tired from taking such a long trip.”

“We found it quite enjoyable,” Quentyn remarks politely. “The beautiful sights along the way are worth the journey, and your city has some great views too.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard great things about your food,” Oberyn grins. “Hence why we took the liberty to bring some of our own,” he signals to the nearest servant, who runs to open one of the trunks they carried. “The dornish fruits are also my sister’s weak spot.”

“As if you don’t gorge yourself on them!” she jests, letting go of Ser Criston’s arm at last. “My brother is a glutton, your grace, please excuse his manners in advance.”

“You can call me Alicent,” his mother corrects her warmly. “Only seems fair to continue this discussion at the table,” she slightly moves away to let the girl go first.

Aemond unintentionally stiffens and only when he stands up from his chair to greet her, she finally does look at him. In contrast to her countenance, her gaze is dark and piercing, and the prince is staggered by how unreadable it is. Her brothers glance at Aemond briefly — Quentyn is pensive, while Oberyn looks like he wants to bite his head off; neither says a word.

She’s seated to his right, and she leaves behind a trail of scent — apples and plums, and he can’t help but catch the movement of her hips under the flowing dress. The words all mash and fall apart, and he can’t pick a single one to strike up a conversation.

Aegon is sitting next to her, and his patience only lasts a minute. “Never knew Ser Criston was such a ladies' man.”

“I’m sure he succeeded on that front but we are merely good friends,” she answers calmly, keeping her eyes on servants bringing fruits — blood oranges and pomegranates, robust grapes, and ripened cherries.

“You two seemed more than friendly,” Aegon presses, his tone evidently taunting.

She picks a golden apricot and runs her thumb over its fragrant surface. “Maybe it’s the wine that makes you see things,” she rebuts and takes a bite out of the fruit, a drop of juice risking to escape her mouth but she wipes it swiftly with her finger. She catches Aemond looking, and his cheeks heat up.

“We’ve never seen him in the company of a woman,” the older prince points out, filling up his cup once more.

She takes out the kernel and eats up the fruit, her mouth glistens. “Aren’t the knights of the Kingsguard forbidden to marry?”

“Never stopped them from bedding whoever they like,” Aegon remarks crudely, and Aemond is thankful that their mother is too preoccupied with Oberyn’s tireless chatting.

“Maybe some men have the decency to follow orders,” she responds, unbothered, taking a cherry and clasping it with her lips. Aegon doesn’t seem to notice and only gulps the wine and rolls his eyes. Aemond can’t look away.

“Aren’t you Martells known for not following the rules? I thought unruly was in your house’s motto,” Aegon argues, a corner of his mouth curled in a smirk.

She takes another cherry, the third in a row, her lips already stained with juice. “I think you keep getting your facts wrong,” she brushes him off, and Aegon goes to object some more but spills the wine right on his shirt. The displeased cry brings Aemond out of his trance.

“He tends to do that when he’s drunk,” the one-eyed prince coolly interjects.

Her eyes flicker to him, then she fully turns her head. “So you can actually talk,” her teasing comes off soft but her gaze still burns. “It’s good to know.”

“You seemed preoccupied with someone else,” he musters an excuse.

“Do you expect your wife to never speak to other men?” her voice almost betrays her disenchantment.

“No,” Aemond quickly answers, caught unawares by how strained his thinking process is. “She— you are free to choose your friends, of course.”

“I’m flattered,” her tone suggesting otherwise, “Not that I would ask for anyone’s approval,” she reaches for a plum; he closes his eye with a sigh.

Aegon comes to stand in between them on the pretext of needing another carafe of wine: “I didn’t mean to interrupt your friendly bickering, please continue.”

“It seems like Aemond isn’t in the mood for talking,” she doesn’t look at him, the tip of her tongue darting to lick her finger. “And I am never in the mood for begging.”

“My brother’s hospitality leaves much to be desired,” Aegon takes a sip. “So I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer,” his hand falls on her chair. “But if you ever wish to be... well satisfied, all you have to do is ask me”.

It’s hard to tell if Aegon’s actually that drunk or merely provoking (or if he’s got a death wish, Aemond wonders).

She replies without much thought. “Well, if I ever find myself in need of...,” she trails off with a smile but her gaze gets harsh — her words then follow, “My choice won’t fall on you,” the smirk falls off Aegon’s face, and she glances straight at Aemond, adding, “I like them taller.”

But her straightforwardness is met with his resistance, with the deep-rooted unacceptance of his lurking needs. He adds “indecent” to the list, and they speak no more.

>>> Her boldness doesn’t pose a problem to anyone but him. To his surprise (or more so to his shock), his mother gives in first.

The morning can’t come fast enough for Aemond after he spends the night tossing and turning. A few hours later he rushes to the garden for a walk, overwhelmed by restlessness his training didn’t help him cope with. That’s when he sees it — a spot of yellow shining through the trees. He somehow knows it’s her without further confirmation but still, his feet carry him on.

Her dress is vivid like a field of marigolds, her hair plaited, wrists adorned with golden bracelets. He slackens pace and peers into her — and he wants nothing more than to drink her up, her whole appearance is the sweetest nectar... Until he hears another sound and realizes she is not alone, and it’s his mother sitting by her side, wrapped in her favorite green and, unexpectedly, in glee. He can’t remember when he saw her laugh like this — out loud, giggling, tears at the corners of her eyes are not from sadness but from joy.

“My dear, that is so improper! Did he apologize at least?” Alicent inquires with a smile.

“Oberyn rarely does,” she tells her serenely. “His lover looked way more ashamed. I hope each of your rooms has locks, gods know I don’t want to walk in on him again.”

Unlike his mother who is covered by the shade of trees, she’s bathing in the sun, the soft light caressing her skin, and Aemond’s eye greedily follows every ray. In barely a minute he feels warm all over.

“I hope that Aemond’s chambers got locks too,” she adds all of a sudden, a bit louder, and his chest is splashed with cold.

His eye moves to her face, and she’s already looking at him, direct and daring. He knows he’s hidden by the trees but there’s no hiding from her gaze.

Aemond turns away and steps back in haste, his abashment mixed with grievance at her implication. He believes someone like her would never lust for him, and her jokes at his expense not only hurt but prompt his resentment to grow stronger. He adds “deceptive” to the portrait of her he is so adamantly set on painting.

>>> She wins Helaena’s heart with ease. His sister fondly compliments her brooch — a little poppy made out of gold — and she gifts it to Helaena the same day. The silver-haired princess grabs at chance to show her own collection, and they spend the day looking through the jewels spread over the floor, sitting right there and equally amused.

And that’s how Aemond finds them. He only planned to see his nephews but hearing her voice coming from Helaena’s chambers makes him slow his step.

“... And this one he gave me for my latest name day,” Helaena babbles cheerfully.

“Aemond clearly spoils you,” she laughs without a shade of envy. “As he should!”

“He is very kind at heart,” Helaena eagerly assures her. “You will be happy with him, I am certain of it.”

There is a pause that makes him feel uneasy, makes him sneak up closer to the room.

“I do believe he’s not an evil man,” she finally says, “Maybe he just wasn’t made for marriage.”

Surely she can’t see him through the door but he can swear that he feels her gaze, like a silent challenge, a hidden mocking. He barges in without a knock.

Helaena beams. “We were just talking about you!”

His sister’s dress is milky blue, modestly pretty, and loosely fitted. It’s also treacherously pale compared to the liquid gold the Martell girl is dressed in. She’s sitting with her feet under her thighs, the bending of her back is bare and in plain sight. He should’ve walked away the second he heard the sound of her voice because not looking at her seems impossible.

“Oh, you came to see the twins? They are with Aegon but I can call— No, I will bring them back myself,” Helaena springs to her feet, rosy-cheeked and smiley, and leaves the room before Aemond can protest. And then it’s just the two of them.

He takes a breath and makes an effort, with his jaw tense and his blood rising, to drag his eye away from her. It feels as pointless as ignoring sunlight in an open field on a summer day. Only her beauty is more brazen — and so is her wit.

“I take it, gold isn’t your favorite color,” she speaks up with an impish tone. “Would be a bad idea to wear it on our wedding then.”

She never comes too close, always just a little out of reach, and yet he feels as if her presence grips him, weakening his will. He doesn’t want to be with her until he is — and then he has no wish to leave.

It scares Aemond as much as it spikes his anger.

“Why did you agree to come?” he bristles.

“You are not asking about your sister’s chambers, are you?” she clarifies, and he hears her smiling.

He tells himself he only needs to cast a glance to check.

He does — he meets her gaze — her earrings catch the sunlight and cast a trail of glares — the scattering of specks play on her skin, her neck and collarbones, sneak to her upper chest — his own is heaving. His struggle only lasts a moment but it leaves him short of breath. He isn’t looking anymore, his eye trying to discern the pattern on the drapes behind her.

“Our marriage, how do you benefit from it?” he hates how hard it is to control his voice.

And how she watches him intently without giving him a clue of what’s on her mind.

“I plan on visiting my family a couple of times a year. It will be easier to do on dragon back,” she doesn’t sound spiteful when she says it but her words still sting.

He can’t stop an image flashing through his mind: her on top of Vhagar, lungs full of air, pressed to him. It’s tempting — to have her in his hands, and yet the vision is too intangible to cling to. Instead, he thinks that in just three days she learned to play him like a harp, his years' worth of self-control is merely a sand castle against the tide of her sharp tongue.

He only snickers dryly at her reply, then they both hear the sound of running footsteps. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys rush to greet him — but almost instantly abandon, the kids' attention drawn to the shining golden dress.

He thinks “unruly” suits her better than does “pompous”. He comes up with a fake excuse to leave; the image of her stays with him.

>>> He picks more adjectives as the week goes on — she’s audacious, disobedient, wanton. She moves around the castle as if she owns every room she’s in. She wears less, and even on rare occasions when she doesn’t, her defiance more than compensates for it. She never shies away from a deep neckline, nor does she feel the need to hold back her resounding laughs. Her jewelry clinks, each of her dresses is brighter than the other, but it’s her wicked mouth his eye always falls on first.

More times than not, Aemond can’t tear his gaze away, each meal for him now both a torture and a feast.

He watches as she parts her lips, puts them around a luscious grape, a cherry, or a peach, she swipes her tongue to lick up every running drop, savoring its tang — and keeps eye contact with him. He barely can taste the food he’s eating, and no wine can quench his thirst, his body flooding with a feeling he can’t define, his heart adrift.

He tries to fight it off with all our strength. He scratches off “unruly” to write down “unabashed” instead.

But then the dinner comes, and even though he’s never had a taste for sweets, he thinks he’d eat them from her lips (deep down, he wants to). The lies he tells himself are brittle like the flesh of fruits under her teeth.

>>> He comes to think “insufferable” fits her the best. That thought rings in his head while he is standing in the stable, his eye on anything but her. He was informed she wished to pick a horse, and he begrudgingly agreed to come, only to keep up the pretense.

What turns out to be much harder is for him to keep restraint. The dress she’s wearing might as well be a chemise — it’s just as light and white, and much to his discomfort, it also tirelessly risks hiking up to expose more of her legs.

Discomfort, mayhaps, isn’t the right word for it.

He stays out of her way but, unsurprisingly, he ends up looking — at how she walks, spring in her step, swinging her hips. She gives each horse a piece of apple and feeds them by hand, strokes their muzzles, and then she mounts and rides them, one by one. She grabs the reins, her foot easily finds the stirrup, and as she swings her leg over the saddle, her dress slips up, showing a few inches of her skin.

He swallows thickly, glances more intently — over her dainty ankles, bending of her knees, he notes how smooth her skin is, soaking up the sun. Her dress then billows slightly, and his eye glides higher, hungry, follows up the contour of her thighs that bounce a little as the horse gallops.

He feels it blooming — a sensation with no name that travels from the lower chest down to his very navel, then spreads and tightens all that’s underneath.

He is so deep in his enthrallment, he doesn’t hear the steps approaching until there’s someone standing next to him. Quentyn stays silent for a minute, throwing him a sideways glance.

“My sister’s always been terribly picky,” the man says out of the blue, “And usually it’s hard to meet all of her demands,” — it doesn’t seem like it’s the horses he is talking of. The vagueness of it makes Aemond focus as he takes his eye off her but Quentyn doesn’t elaborate, giving him a smile instead. “I do admit, your patience is commendable. Some other man would’ve already interfered just to wrap the process up.”

“I was under the impression she doesn’t need anyone’s help,” Aemond replies evasively.

“You guessed it right,” Quentyn titters, his tone veiled with the same unclear meaning when he adds, “The only thing left for us all is to accept it,” and with that, he goes to join his sister.

When Aemond — tamely, almost yielding — takes a peek at her, his gaze collides with Oberyn’s who clearly watched them talk. Unlike his older brother, he prefers to stay away, but the mischief in him pairs really well with danger. He grants Aemond a nod, switching attention back to her, his threats unspoken for the meantime.

For just a second, it gives Aemond pause as he finds it odd that no one brings up their wedding, and no announcements have been made ever since she came. He doesn’t mull over it for long because her laughter interrupts his thoughts (or maybe he just yearns for any chance to look at her). She rides around the yard, her hair floating in the wind, a little breathless but breathtaking, her lips enticing and her curves making his throat dry.

He tries to ground himself, to look for explanations, for some reprieve from the entrancing spell he’s under — he’s never been so close to losing reason —

out of the corner of his eye, he sees a couple of guards dropping their gaze in poor attempts to stop themselves from gawking; it reins his passion, bringing back his jealousy instead. He’s way too used to seeing himself unworthy to even entertain the thought of having her, and his denial prickles. He wants to burn his feelings out, and anger helps with that — it breaks out and engulfs him fast, hardening both his heart and gaze.

“Quentyn is the friendliest of the two, and you couldn’t hold a conversation?” Aegon appears out of nowhere, seemingly displeased despite the bottle in his hand. “Must you always be so gruff? I stayed behind in hopes you’d make it work!” he waves at Oberyn then glares at Aemond, waiting for a reply. “Are you pretending to be deaf or...?”

“Must she test my patience?” Aemond mutters, his tone not jealous but exasperated, his eye boring into her, “Putting herself out like that for all the men to see.”

Aegon being speechless is a rare sight. He cannot fathom it at first, looking from Aemond back to her, confusion sobering him up. And then he grins, realization creeping up on him; there are some things he’s always quick to notice.

“It’s funny that you say that,” he leans in to tell him and catches Aemond’s gaze, “Since it’s just you who’s staring,” Aegon pats him on the back and leaves to greet her brothers.

Aemond tries to choke it down — his irritation and his shame combined, but it’s too much for him to handle, his head and heart clearly in conflict. He doesn’t wait for her to make a choice, retiring without sparing her a glance (a fear nibs at him that if he looks at her once more, he will stay rooted to the ground).

He doesn’t leave his chambers for the remainder of the day, dining all alone and fuming all the same. He’s usually good at curbing his emotions but he is having trouble understanding them, wanting nothing more than to erase all memories of her. But even in his solitude, he catches himself thinking — about her cunning smile and swaying hips, her eyes on him, his hands wanting to roam and touch and —

Aemond shoves unwanted thoughts away and goes to bed earlier than usual. He remains steadfast in his resolve to find some peace, he makes a conscious effort to shift his focus to all the boring, random things his mind can come up with until he is too tired to care.

But then he falls asleep, and his subconscious welcomes her. He sees her right before his eye in that obscenely short white dress, there are no people in the yard, her tantalizing moves all meant for him. She hops off her black horse and walks to him without a single word — anticipation makes him drop his guard and hold his breath — and then he feels her lips on his, her body pressing into him, his hunger for her ruining his self-control, the kiss is searing, suffocating, driving him insane, his fingers pulling up her dress —

he wakes up painfully aroused.

He lays in bed, his heartbeat rushing, his breathing ragged, and vision blurred. While he’s still grasping for the remnants of his dream, he sneaks his hand into his breeches, wishing he could rip her dress off and sheath himself inside her, spread her on his bed, and drink every salacious sound she makes... It only takes him a few strokes to spill over his fingers; he can’t remember if he’s ever reached his peak so fast.

And only then, as he comes down from his high, it hits him, like lightning in the dark — in spite of her remarks, her audacity, her dresses, and every cruel adjective he’s found for her, he’s never wanted anyone so badly. Aemond sits up abruptly, his sleep gone, giving way to stubbornness that comes hand in hand with reticence. He persuades himself that he’ll suppress this — the spark, the pleasure that he craves, and he won’t be a slave to his desires.

He’ll rid himself of feelings, of this lust. Inevitably it will wane.

>>> It doesn’t.

Desire is a guest that never leaves, unwanted but demanding space, attention, time. It slips into his thoughts the moment he wakes up, it whispers in his ears, never giving up, it’s layered in between his clothes and his skin. He hides it well from everyone; it lodges deeper into him.

Desire is a cherry in her mouth, each fruit she bites in, savors, drinks the juice from. He doesn’t want to watch — he can’t take his eye off her, caught in his fervor like in undertow, the flavor of her lips the only one he truly yearns for.

Desire bruises more than does a hit, cuts deeper than a blade, and there’s no weapon he can fight it off with. His training brings him no relief, and he can’t sweat it out or wash it off him, and even while he soaking in a bath, it feels like longing only rises back with steam.

Desire waits for him at night, stands by his bed, slides right under the covers with him. He dreams of her, and in those dreams, her body sings under his every touch, trembles from his praise, his hands and mouth paint her with marks and kisses. He wakes up with his chest aflame and out of breath, and then it takes all of his willpower not to crawl to her.

It staggering how much he really wants her, and he hates himself for it.

>>> It’s been three weeks and they have barely shared a word. He does his best to cut down their encounters and avoid her, he doesn’t argue and takes no offense, he hopes that if he pulls back just enough she will give up and let him be.

Aemond spends his evenings in the study, his table piled with books, and for a couple of hours, it does help to take his mind off things. The night already steals in while he’s searching through the shelves for scrolls, too caught up in the process to pick up the creaking of his door.

Her gaze nearly scalds him. He only looks up out of surprise — and then he freezes at the spot, his heart a stone that plummets to his stomach.

Out of everything she’s worn, this dress might be the one to bring him to his knees — the cutting out the front so low, his eye falls in the hollow between her breasts; he envies fervently the golden chain that rests there. He takes in her whole body, bare arms, and flaunting forms, all clad in deep dark green. He’s never seen her pick that color (and he can’t help but think she put it on for him).

He’s brought back from his stupor when their eyes meet — and startled by the determination in her gaze.

“Ser Criston told me that you missed your training,” she stately starts walking toward him, “Quite a few times this week.”

“I found myself preoccupied with other things,” he clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back, the scrolls forgotten.

“With reading, I assume?” she almost sounds aggrieved (he wants to ask what else she’d rather have him do) but then her tone gets jaunty. “Would you mind if I join?”

“Actually, I would,” Aemond takes his eye off her, his coldness feigned. “I’d like to avoid distractions.”

And more than anything, he would like for her to leave; she’s not the one to give up so easily. “Maybe we can learn some things together?” she nonchalantly insists, and that ambiguity — deliberate or not — leaves his face suffused with pink.

“I highly doubt you take interest in the things I study,” he manages, his crudeness biting his own tongue.

She only sneers, already nearing his table. “You surely rush to judgment.”

“And I am never wrong.” (Although he’s been wrong once before.)

“That’s very humble of you.” (And she’s tenacious with her intent to prove him wrong again.)

“I am surprised you know that word,” he replies too hastily — and instantly regrets his outburst.

And his attempts to get away from her could’ve been valiant, but only left him feeling like a coward.

She’s got enough courage to spare. “Oh, my apologies, did I strike a nerve?” her hip grazes a stack of books. “You sound so displeased with my behavior,” she puts her hands right on his table, her cleavage in full view.

“You interrupted my studies,” he’s looking only at her face.

“Just this one time,” she clears up, her sly smile is a dare, “Sounds like you have quite a few complaints.”

Damned be her dress and the day he laid his eye on her. “It’s clear as day that we have nothing in common,” he hisses, her persistence molding his anger. “From your bawdy humor to your reckless behavior and your...,” he struggles to push the word through his mouth, “vulgar dresses — everything suggests that we will never make a good couple.”

He catches a gleam in her gaze but it’s not threatening nor hurt — and when the corners of her mouth curl up, her face expression actually looks amused. “I didn’t realize my presence tormented you that much,” she crosses arms over her chest, her hands under her breasts; he looks away that very instant. “So will it please you if I take my vulgar dresses and go back home and leave you be?”

He wants to say it will — he’s thought of it for days — but now he isn’t sure. The dreams he has of her will hardly be enough as every image he collected has got nothing on the real form.

“Is there anything that does?” she asks him suddenly and takes a step in his direction, and then another one.

Belatedly, he realizes that he’s backed against the wall. The air in the room heats up, and Aemond moves back to his table, fingers holding to its edge to find some balance. “...Does what?”

“Please you,” she swiftly clarifies, now standing at arm’s length.

“That isn’t any of your concern,” he wants to glance away and yet, his eye is drawn to her.

“I am inclined to disagree,” her lips stretch into a smile. “Shouldn’t a wife know how to make her husband feel good?”

“We are not married yet,” he tries to argue weakly.

“I’d like to learn beforehand,” but her assertiveness works quicker than his doubts.

The time is still, and seconds drag like hours. His heart leaps at the thought of being all alone with her, his concentration crumbling, his self-restraint already hanging by a thread.

“The way you look at me suggests you aren’t averse to the idea,” she tells him in a low voice, her eyes two glowing embers. Aemond gulps, she deftly rounds the table. “You act so cold and so collected,” she muses, coming closer, and he helplessly steps back. “But I am yet to meet a man who would deny himself the pleasure of laying with a woman,” her voice is warm and warming; his legs bump into the chair, prompting him to sit.

He hesitates for barely a moment but his quick reaction fails him because the next thing he knows, she’s standing next to him, her golden chain casting a blinding glint — he blinks — and then she’s straddling him, her thighs on either side of his.

Aemond’s mouth falls slack as he becomes aware: to lift her he will have to touch her. He glances down at her legs that sneaked out through the long slits of her dress, all bare to the very hips before him.

“I wonder if you are too spoiled by the attention of the ladies? Mayhaps you’ve got so satiated, the intimacy doesn’t bring you any joy,” she runs her fingers up his chest.

He only finds it in himself to shake his head. She isn’t satisfied with that reaction. “Or do you simply find it boring and have a taste for something else?”

Objection bubbles in his throat but he gets no chance to voice it — he barely registers a clinking sound before he feels cold steel pressed under his chin, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of his own dagger. He meant to leave it at the training yard but it completely slipped his mind.

“Does this work better? I’ve heard that you Targaryens have peculiar tastes,” her other hand lands on his shoulder, his chest is stirring with emotions he can’t read.

“That’s not— No,” he mumbles, his voice raw, the weight and feeling of her body overwhelming.

She cocks her brow at him in disbelief. “No? So it’s just plain old satiation then?” she makes no attempt to press the blade but her questions do get pushy. “Must be so hard when women throw themselves at you ever since you were... What was it, ten? Twelve years of age?”

He would expect her to sound teasing — instead, he hears disappointment. That’s the reaction he is used to getting.

“My brother took me to a pleasure house when I was ten-and-three. He said it’s time to get it wet,” he forces out, “And it was...,” awful and humiliating, something he wishes to forget, “...Not what you are describing.”

Her face expression changes — first surprised, then splashed with sadness, and her every feature softens. Aemond sees her opening her mouth to speak but he averts his gaze, abasement scrabbling at him. His eye falls closed, and he keeps thinking that now she will get up and leave, and there won’t be any wedding, and he’s got no reason to get so overly upset already, and —

she sheathes his dagger without a word, the unexpected movement making him breathe out.

And then she dips her head down, and her lips fall on his jaw. Aemond inhales sharply. Her mouth feels softer than it was in all his dreams, and she plants kisses down his throat, moving to the part of it the blade was pressed to. He doesn’t know where to put his hands while hers lock nimbly around his neck.

She pulls back slowly, and he dares to look at her again, trying to catch the merest shadow of pretense but there is none.

“I am truly sorry that you had to go through that,” she tells him quietly. “Have you tried some more since then?”

“I did,” his answer comes off hurried, blank, “I... I am aware of how the act is done.”

“How the act is done? Aemond, that doesn’t sound enjoyable at all,” she pouts, then gently caresses his face, her voice a tender whisper when she adds, “But it should be.”

He stiffens, waiting for the discomfort to wake up, for the aversion to coil his guts, to trigger the jarring need to move away. None of that happens. Instead, he feels her fingers running through his hair, a calming motion bringing only comfort, her every touch relieving tightness in his chest.

“You seem too tense... We have to work on that,” she joyfully murmurs. “Unless, of course, my worry causes you distress,” her fingers stop, “Do you want me to leave, my prince?”

“No,” he rasps, he almost pleads, “D-don’t.”

She hums with satisfaction, bringing her hands down to unclasp his leather doublet, knowing she won’t meet any resistance. He should resent her for this but he doesn’t (he didn’t and he won’t). The air lays cold over his shirt, and Aemond shivers; she moves her fingers down his firm chest with an unspoken admiration.

“Tell me how it usually goes,” she inquires, one of her hands finding its way back to his silver locks. “Do you find pleasure in undressing them?”

Her warmth envelopes him, scented with cinnamon and peaches. “They come without much clothes,” Aemond blurts out, earning another hum from her.

“And what about you?” she glances curiously at him.

“I don’t... I don’t like them touching me,” he timidly avows, and saying it to her does bring somewhat of a relief.

With both of her hands, she cradles his face, thumbs gently contouring his cheeks — he all but melts into her palms. “And yet you are so responsive to the touch,” her voice praises, “So pretty.”

She leans in again, leaving a kiss at the hollow of his throat — and then her mouth travels up, ardent and steady, and he squirms in place. Not out of discomfort.

“You are not supposed to rush it if you want it to feel good,” she whispers in his ear and moves back to catch his gaze. “You never rush into fighting so why love making should be any different?”

Astonishment brightens his face, and she chuckles lightly. “I must confess, I did enjoy watching you train, even though you never noticed. The way you move and twirl your sword,” she’s recollecting breathy, “You are so lithe and fast and so resistant... An infatuating sight.”

She holds his gaze and lifts her hand — he follows it, unblinking, until it finds one of the straps — she hooks it with her fingers. “Fairly soon it made me wonder how would your hands feel... on me,” his heart jolts at her words.

Slowly, she moves the strap aside, baring her breast for him; Aemond’s breathing hitches. She takes his hand in hers, planting a kiss over his knuckles — and then lets his fingers graze her naked skin.

“It was so cruel of you to rob me of my pleasure,” she laments, but he can barely hear a thing, his eye wide as he fixes on the soft swell of her breast, on how her nipple peaks so eagerly under his touch.

She guides his hand over her chest, down to her ribs and waist, letting him brush her every curve, placing his fingers firmly on her hip. And then she reaches for his other hand and lowers the other strap; his body trembles. The layers of his reticence are all peeled at once, leaving his desire raw and undisguised, unshackled. He’s drawn to fondle, clutch at her plump breasts but her grip is tight and taunting, not letting his fingers roam free.

Still, when both his hands sink into her hips, he realizes that he’s getting harder by the second.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by her. With a controlled, torturously slow move she drags her clothed core over his straining cock. His mouth stays closed but there’s a sound — a muffled moan caught in his throat.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” she teases, lightly tugging on his hair, her lips reaching the column of his neck. “With how much you read, I hoped you’d be more generous with words,” each of her kisses weightless like a drop of rain but then her mouth finds a spot below his ear and suckles at it, pulling a whimper from his chest.

He thinks he should... his mind goes blank after another movement of her hips, and she picks up the pace, merciless and sensuous. He tries biting down his moans but only hurts his mouth. She notices, her rapt eyes on him, and puts her finger on his lower lip:

“Please, don’t be shy with me,” she coos, her gentle touch soothing his bitten flesh, “Our desires coincide,” she earnestly affirms him — and the spark erupts and drags him into pure bliss.

He feels that his arousal leaks, his breeches way too tight to hide it, his fingers dig into her supple skin, but she gives no complaints. He watches breathlessly through his hooded eyelid as she grinds against him, then looks over her bouncing breasts, her nipples pebbled, and the pressure curls somewhere down his spine. She peppers him with kisses — the angles of his face, neck, everything that she can reach, except for his desirous mouth. And yet the softness of her lips and hands, her skin that’s draped with the redolent scent, the rhythm of her hips all bring him closer to the edge.

Her forehead is pressed to his, their lips an inch away but never fully touching. “Let go for me,” she says against his mouth, “My handsome, fierce dragon.”

That does it for him. He harshly presses her to him, then shudders with a strangled moan and comes undone, his eye squeezed shut as her name quivers in his mouth. The pleasure whirls him in and leaves him drained and stunned, a little bit light-headed.

It takes Aemond a minute to recover before he finds her gaze again — and in another minute he discerns her shallow breaths, her parted lips, brows slightly furrowed. He wants to ask her if she reached her peak, if he can help her with it —

but she pulls back.

She stands up and only briefly grabs his shoulder, steadying herself, then promptly puts the straps back on, fixing her dress. He wants to lend a hand but she moves it away, leaning in to lightly caress his face. “No, you don’t get to have me yet. I want you to admit it first, to say that you want me,” her words are laced with dignity but cooling to his mind.

She steps back, cruelly fast, the only consolation is her naughty tone. “Until then, I have to satisfy myself some other way. But I will think of you while doing it, my dear prince,” she promises, a ghost of a smile on her lips, and then walks out without looking back.

The silence feels unwelcome in the room and hangs over the ceiling like a cloud, but Aemond he is too dazed to move, spent and perplexed to wrap his head around it.

Desire, it seems, has come to stay.

But it’s not the only thing he’s feeling.

✧... YES, there will be a second part, it’s already in the works! ✧ and yes, I didn’t bother to rename Pedro’s character 'cause I adore Oberyn sue me

✧ just to clarify, I usually age Aemond up to 20 (or however old Ewan looks to you ;) ✧ I got inspired after watching the video for ROSALÍA’s “La Fama” (give it a watch, she is soooo 🥵) but I only found it because of this gorgeous gifset so shout-out to OP for giving me inspiration

✧ my recent fic (couples who kill together, stay together 🔥) ✧ my masterlist

thank you @amiraisgoingthruit for letting me tag you in every silly story of mine, hope you’ll like this one (if anyone else wants to be tagged, don’t be shy)

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

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nereidprinc3ss · 12 days

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Ok but I think you hit on something in “in the dead of night” about how Spencer leans into his mammalian instincts. Imagine him angry and tense after a rough day and needing that and then talking you through the motions of it and why it makes him feel better because of the science and chemicals behind it all

i absolutely love this!! thank you for requesting:)

also experimenting with a new short and sweet format for blurbs/request! feedback is always appreciated<3

wc 800

warnings: fem!reader, very suggestive, d/s dynamics

“I don’t—Spencer—”

Something in your mouth keeps you from finishing the sentence. Namely: your boyfriend’s tongue. You gasp into him as he tugs your jacket off, arching your back against the wall he’s pressed you to so that the fabric can hit the ground with a thick thud.

“Spence, please,” you manage, barely, as his hand cups your jaw and his thumb presses under your chin, encouraging you to angle your head up and make room for his lips. It’s not that you don’t want this—you told him he could be rough with you and you meant it—but you’re slightly overwhelmed by this uncharacteristic display of nearing aggressive passion.

“What, baby?” he breathes, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck while his hands snake under your shirt. Focused on the feeling of his hand pressed against your waist, you allow your eyes to flutter shut.

“You’re acting… different.”

A pause—his head drops against your shoulder as he reigns himself in.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No—you don’t need to stop, I just… it might make me feel better if I knew what this was about.”

He sucks in a breath.

“You want to hear about my day?”

The way his fingers trail downward over your skin is so gentle it feels almost dangerous.

“… Yeah.” But you don’t at all sound sure of yourself. A hum from him seems to rattle your skull as he drags his lips up your neck and over your jaw, kissing you with a softness that is almost certainly deceptive.

“You know what, angel? I don’t actually really feel like talking about that right now. Does that tell you—” he bites your lip, and it doesn’t really hurt, but you whine anyway, “what kind of day I had?”

No words are forming for you anymore, so you make do with an airy “mhm.”

The first button at the bottom of your shirt is undone before you even realize he was unbuttoning it.

“Have you ever heard of the ventrolateral ventromedial hypothalamus?” Spencer murmurs, undoing the buttons on your shirt with a practiced expertise that is hard to keep up with—especially when he keeps teasing your lips with his like this. It doesn’t even matter if you’ve heard of that or not; all the information you’ve ever retained is gone from the stores of your brain. If it doesn’t have anything to do with Spencer, it feels deeply unimportant. You shake your head no. “The hypothalamus does a lot. It regulates our appetites, our body temperatures, hormones…”

Why is this so sexy.

“It also has a lot to do with how we express our emotions. And that tiny part of the hypothalamus—the one I just mentioned—it’s where we process two really big feelings.” He undoes the last button, gently pushing your open shirt from your shoulders. “Anger.” Hands creep around your hips, blindly unzipping your skirt. “And arousal.”

Oh!

“In a disregulated brain, that can be a dangerous combination. But,” he tugs the straps of your bra down, “if you understand it, you can use it to your advantage.”

Your breath is bated as you do the work of kicking off your shoes, and he unclasps your bra.

“The human brain is fallible in so many ways. At the end of the day, we’re delicate, and vulnerable, and convoluted—but we’re also pretty simple creatures, motivated by a few basic instincts. Anger and sex are intrinsic to who we are as animals. For most of history, they’ve defined us. And they’re so closely related. Do you follow?”

Your response comes as a gasp when you realize you haven’t been breathing for a long moment now.

“Yes.” Does it matter if you understand? You just want him to touch you.

“Good.” His lowered voice gets even quieter as he continues, brushing hair behind your ear carefully. “You know I would never, ever hurt you, right?”

“I know.”

You don’t remember how all your clothes ended up on the kitchen floor, but they’re certainly not on you anymore as he presses flush against your bare skin.

“I will always take care of you and keep you safe. That being said—sometimes the best thing you can do when you’re having a really big feeling is to follow that basic animal instinct. It’s why sprinting can help when you’re having a panic attack. Your body is in fight or flight and it will relax if you follow the instinct to run.”

Spencer’s fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear.

“I’ve been having some of those really big feelings today. Do you know what’s going to make me feel better?”

You whimper. Fabric slips past your hips and falls to the ground as Spencer begins closing the small distance between your mouths—but not before uttering a word that has your heart racing.

“You.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert

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rootbeerworshiper · 1 month

Text

under the neon lights

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

based on these reqs: @inlovewithmattstur

warnings: angst with a very fluffy ending! and not proofread lolz

love, sienna <3

you’ve been best friends with Chris since freshmen year and the two of you are quite literally attached at the hip.

ongoing jokes about the two of you being a couple were all too common, and you can’t even be suprised at these remarks because in reality you and him were incredibly close.

normal friends don’t hold hands constantly and fall sleep cuddling, normal friends don’t catch each other staring and cause the other to become flustered, normal friends don’t spend every waking moment thinking about the other—but that was your dynamic with the boy, confusing, complicated, and anything but normal.

you often slept over at his house, Chris was never one to like sleeping alone, insisting he sleeps better with another body in the bed—and you didn’t mind.

the problem with this weird dynamic is how badly you wish things were different.

you wish your highschool experience involved going to prom with him, with a corsage laying on your wrist and a boy to kiss your hand as he greets you.

every night you imagine what it would feel like to be loved publicly, for someone to not shut up about how much they love you.

it’s impossible not to imagine cute dates and tiny acts of pda that actually mean the world.

you want romance—but instead your in love with your best friend.

on this particular night the two of you spent your time watching old videos from highschool—some more embarrassing than others.

“oh my god i cannot believe i wore that to school what was i doing?” your shocked expression causes him to laugh, his arm wrapped around your shoulder while your own arm wraps around his waist. “okay okay that’s enough of that let’s move on please” you practically cry out out of embarrassment, the boy just throwing his head back in a fit of laughter you can feel on your arm.

“i don’t think it was that bad” he says in between laughs. “to be fair i rotated the same five pairs of sweats every week so i can’t talk”

“our style just took a second to develop that’s for sure” you smile, squeezing Chris’ side slightly before relaxing into the touch once more.

the two of you continue scrolling through old snapchat memories and failed vlogs, laughing practically on repeat for an hour, the only thing lighting the room was the light illuminating from his phone.

“holy shit how is it two am already?” you sit up slightly, caught off guard by how fast time went by with your favourite person.

he smiles slightly, as if a lightbulb just entered his head. “wanna do something?” he asks, looking up at you with a look that can convince you to do anything, a look that consistently fills your stomach with butterflies that you consciously ignore.

“like what? last time i checked, neither of us have our license and Matt’s sleeping” you reply, unsure where he’s going with this. you toy with his fingers, tracing along the length of each once while he begins to speak.

“we could walk to the gas station that’s right over here, like we used to do during covid” he says, eyes focused on your hands as you continue playing with his fingers—what you don’t know is how incredibly much he cherishes your touch, like electricity is running through your connected fingers.

you smile at the memory of you and Chris back in Boston, sneaking out at three am to sit at the skatepark and eat the food purchased at the local gas station. “sure, i’ve missed that”

so the two you make your way out of bed, and you throw on one of Chris’ hoodies before joining him in quietly making your way out of the house—not wanting to wake up either of his brothers.

the walk is peaceful, streets illuminated by warm coloured street lamps and a bright moonlight that showcases the many stars littered across the black sky—for a moment it feels like your back in Boston.

Chris always insists on having background music, so your shared playlist played softly from the phone in his pocket as you walk along the sidewalks.

not a lot is said on the walk to the familiar gas station, and not a ton needed to be said, comfortable silence filling the space between two bodies as the neon lights from the convenience store light up your face a fluorescent white shade.

you enter the shop—Chris holding the door open for you and following shortly behind you as you head straight to the drink section.

the boy settles on a sweet tea and you yourself decide on a white monster. “do we want any snacks?” you ask, shutting the door to the commercial fridge.

“i could fuck up a nerds rope and some cool ranch doritos” he replies, causing you to smile because once again, it felt like old times, his snack decision hitting you with a wave of nostalgia.

and so you get just that, two of each snack that’s now stored in a small plastic bag that Chris holds as he once again opens the door for you to exit.

you ultimately decide to just sit outside the gas station, bright lights illuminating the tops of your heads as you sit down and begin to pull out the snacks—Chris’ music still playing quietly in the background.

“are you getting major deja vu or is that just me?” you ask, ripping open a bag of your favourite doritos as the boy takes a sip of his iced tea.

“one hundred percent but to be very fair we’ve done this exact thing like a hundred times” he laughs softly, a laugh that never fails to bring you serenity.

it’s silent again, the only noises to be heard are the rap songs playing from the iphone that lies on the cement and the crumbing of your dorito bags.

“i’m really happy we’re still friends, i don’t know who i’d be without you” Chris speaks up, gaze fixated on the gas pumps ahead of you.

you laugh at the sudden switch in tone, looking in his direction only to be met with his side profile, that alone causes the speed of your heartbeat to pickup. “way to get sappy all of a sudden”

“i just appreciate you that’s all” he looks to you now, meeting your gaze, making an eye contact with you that feels different than normal, maybe more intentional.

his gaze now switches from your eyes to a lower portion of your face, eyes making contact with your lips while your own eyes scan his face for any telling emotions.

“Chris stop looking at me like that” you try and joke, turning your gaze away to see his eyes still just as fixated on you as before.

“why? what if i just wanna admire my best friend?” he says softly, licking his lips and coating a thin layer of glistening saliva over them—but immediately his choice of words put you off.

this is a game you’ve played with him before. his overt friendliness that comes off as incredibly flirty and your hopeless romantic tendencies conflicting and instantly making things weird between the two of you.

“i’m not doing this with you i-“ you choose to stop speaking, already felling the pit in your stomach that is fighting back the urge to let out a sob.

normal friendships aren’t this hard.

his eyebrows immediately furrow, showing off his insane amount of cluelessness as you take a deep breath, allowing the dry, night dazed air to enter your lungs. “y/n i don’t understand what’s happening right now, are you okay?” he says, his voiced laced with a sense of concern.

“no i’m not okay!” you stand up, dusting your hands off on your sweats biting your lip to suppress any sadness dwelling. he stands up too, but still containing an innocence in his eyes that drives you insane.

“i can’t keep doing this!” you cry out. at this point you’ve given up on caring about weird looks from the cashier or other cars driving by, overtaken by pure anger that’s been smoking within you, ready to explode at any moment.

“doing what y/n? speak to me” he replies, concern overtaking his delicate face as he walks ever so slightly closer to you, subconsciously hoping to make you feel better.

but you pull away immediately, keeping a safe distance between you and the brunette. “whatever the fuck this is Chris” you motion between you and the boy with your hands. “you can’t keep looking at me and expect me not to feel something for you! it’s not fair that you say the most butterfly inducing shit and follow it up with ‘my best friend’. what am i supposed to do with that?”

every thought you’ve had about this friendship pours out of your mouth as tears well up in your eyes, threatening to pour out at any moment.

“i’m sorry i gave you the wrong impression i never meant to-“

“fuck off Chris. seriously fuck off. i don’t need to hear you reject me. i don’t want to have feelings for you. this would all be easier if i didn’t, i think we just need space” you begin to turn away from him, grabbing your things off the paved entrance.

you muster up the courage to say one last thing before walking away, a shakiness overtaking your bottom lip. “i shouldn’t have expected this to be any different. i should’ve known that this is just the way you are and i shouldn’t have been so stupid.”

a wet tear trails down your cheek, guiding alongside your nose as you speak. “was any of it ever real?”

it’s clear that by ‘any of it’ you’re referring to the romance you felt spark between the two of you, even he knows that—but he stays.

he stays exactly where he is and his mouth remains shut.

“i hope we can figure out our shit but right now i’m done. with you, with this. done.” with that you walk away, your back facing the boy as you increase the speed of your steps, eager to leave this shitty situation.

his heart drops at this. the last thing he wants is space. he adores you and he doesn’t want your friendship to be put on pause for any reason.

he wants to be able to tell you that he likes you in that way too. that every time silence fills the space between you he fights the urge to kiss you. and that he can’t help but think of you anytime someone asks if he’s single because for whatever reason when he’s with you he feels everything but alone.

he’d kill to grab your hand, to stop you from walking away and tell you how obsessed with you he is, but it’s not that simple—nothing about this relationship is.

deep down Chris knows exactly what you want.

you want a relationship. you want to go on dates and hold hands in public and put a label on how you feel for one another—that couldn’t be further from what he wants.

which is why he stands there—the neon lights reflecting in his teary eyes as your back faces him, as you leave him there all alone with his thoughts.

to him it all happened so fast, like a car spinning out of control, slipping on ice until it meets its untimely demise. this was all out of his control, and what was he supposed to do?

commitment is terrifying.

going on dates and posting each other on important anniversaries was his nightmare for so long, the idea of that being genuinely off putting.

but the idea of never having you in his life again?

the idea of not hearing you laugh at his stupid jokes, clutching your stomach with a huge grin on your face or listening to your calm, patterned breaths as he falls asleep next to you?

that was so much worse.

all of a sudden everything clicks.

he was in love with you.

he is in love with you.

all this time he knew you were different than other friends, but his feelings towards you weren’t something he was conscious of.

but it makes sense now, why he got all flustered whenever you teased him, why you had so much power over him in ways that were embarrassing.

the realization hits him like a brick, his feet planted onto the pavement below him, his mind unable to think about anything else but you.

but you’re gone. in the time that it took Chris to figure out his conflicting thoughts you had walked back to the house, fully prepared to sleep on the couch and gave Matt drive you home first thing in the morning.

it can’t be over like this, you can’t be over like this.

so he runs, like a fucking idiot he leaves behind his snacks placed against the conscience store wall and he runs.

you continue walking down the street, nothing but soft sobs escaping your shivering mouth as you think about every memory of Chris you cherished so close to your heart.

like when he wrote you letters telling you how happy he was that you were in his life, folded up and placed in an envelope. you were one of few people that were able to read his messy handwriting, but based on his proper punctuation and attention to writing his words more clearly, it was obvious he took his time. for you.

or that time when you went to the fair with him—the kid hates rides, hates them. but he also knows just how much you love them, so that night he swallowed his fear, holding your hand and going on every ride with you so that you wouldn’t be alone.

or the forehead kisses he would give you as you worked through a difficult assignment in school, his soft words of motivation that got you to graduation.

in what world is that casual?

you roll your eyes at his previous statement. he just gave you ‘the wrong impression’ as if what he did could have been interpreted in literally any other way.

you’re too caught up in your own thoughts, trying to find an answer to the never ending puzzle that is Chris Sturniolo to even notice the footsteps behind you, the pace slowing as they get closer to you.

until they stop. “y/n” Chris speaks, clearly out of breath.

before you even turn around you roll your eyes. “i just wanna sleep, can we talk about this another time please? i cant keep thinking about it”

the hand that’s softly placed on your shoulder tells you otherwise, so you turn around, now facing Chris who looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

once he catches his breath he looks at you with pleading eyes. “can i just speak?”

you nod, biting your lip to avoid any more snide comments, it’s clear he cares, that much you can give him.

he takes one more deep breath, as if he’s about to run a marathon with his voice. “i was confused. i was confused and i was so stupid and i don’t know what i was thinking”

you just stand there at look at him, wiping away your tears as he speaks. “it was all real, all of it. i just got so scared because it all felt too real. i just-“ his voice is shaky, and it’s evident that he’s holding back tears.

“you have always been more than a friend to me. this whole time i’ve been so completely obsessed with you and everything about you and i haven’t been able to think straight because every time i look at you i have to stop myself from kissing you” he runs his hand through his soft hair, struggling to look at you when he speaks.

he inhaled another breath, the air shakily filling his lungs. “but i never did, mostly because i didn’t think i was good enough for you. you deserve someone so amazing and caring and romantic and everyday i wondered if i’d ever get there. i wanted to get there so bad because i wanted you. i’m not a relationship kind of guy” he sniffles. “i mean i’ve barely even been on a real date and i’m twenty years old”

he shakes his head, trying his best to get his point across. “but none of that matters when i look at you because everytime i see you it all goes away. every fear of commitment and- and realness goes away.” tears creep out of his blue eyes, but he’s quick to wipe them away with his palms. “god y/n i’m so fucking in love with you that the thought of you walking away from me made my heart hurt”

you’ve never seen him this vulnerable before. sure, he was always honest with you, but right now he just looks so- hopeless.

he finishes speaking, shaking out his hands slightly as if to relieve tension that formed in his joints as he spoke.

you’re not entirely sure what to say, so you don’t speak, instead pulling the boy into a much needed hug, burying your face into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist.

he doesn’t react at first, in shock initially at the sudden closeness, but it doesn’t take long for him to pull you in impossibly closer to him, one hand placed on your back and another on the back of your head.

he rests his face on the top of your head, practically burying his lips in your hair as his hand rubs your back.

you pull out slightly, keeping your arms on his side as you look at him, one last tear crawling down your cheek.

immediately his hands comes to your face, cupping your jawline while his thumb wipes away the tear drop. “why are you crying now?” he furrows his eyebrows, a slight playfulness to his tone.

you giggle, leaning into his touch. “i think these are happy tears now”

“well it’s a good thing you look beautiful even you cry” he smiles softly, holding eye contact with you as you look up at him.

“yeah why’s that?” you tease.

he leans in slightly closer, mumbling slightly as he speaks. “because i’d really like to kiss you now”

your heart flutters at this, and everything feels good again. you have Chris and that’s all you need. “what’s taking you so long?” you smile, the boy immediately leaning in fully and attaching his lips to yours carefully.

his hand still rests on your cheek, only deepening the kiss further before you start smiling, causing him to pull back as you widen your eyes.

“what was that for?” he laughs softly.

“i’m gonna sound like the corniest mother fucker if i say what i’m thinking so i’m just gonna kiss you again” you smile, leaving back in once more, if you weren’t already obsessed with him you definitely are now.

it’s a short lived kiss, the two of you are exhausted at this point, but it still means everything to you.

he wraps his arm around your shoulder now, pulling you into a side hug and kissing the top of your head. “i think after my whole ‘i’m in love with you’ monologue i take the prize for corniest fucker”

you laugh, beginning to walk down the poorly lit street. “never though i’d see the day, Christopher Owen Sturniolo is a cheese ball”

“okay that’s enough of that i’m going back to the gas station” he jokingly turns away before you pull him back to you again.

“i like it when your corny, it’s hot” you mumble, causing the boy to pause in his steps, his arm still around you.

“guess i’ll have to do it more often then yeah?” words that simple shouldn’t have the effect on you that they do, but you’re a smiling mess regardless.

“yeah”

a/n: had no idea how to end this LMAOO hopefully it fulfilled some of your needs for angst

i tried so hard to make chris accurate but i don’t know the man like that💔

taglist: @lolasnoww-blog @tastesousweet @ivypoison @disturbedwoodelf @sturnswift @junnniiieee07 @ellie-luvsfics @sturnified @s7urnfilms @madsdogst @justlivinglive @sluttycupsworld @flowerxbunnie @mbsbaby @sturniolossmut @lustfulslxt @69isabella69 @sturnioloslurps @dracoflaco @mattslatinagf @raekensluver @worldlxvlys

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo angst #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

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angelltheninth · 9 months

Note

How would the men of Arcane make love to fem!reader while they spend a night of intimacy together? Passionately? Sensually? Intensely? Roughly?

Sure thing Anon!

Pairing: Viktor, Jayce, Silco, Vander, Ekko, Marcus, Finn x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, kissing, rough sex, gentle sex, fingering, dirty talk, cuddles, aftercare, size difference

A/N: Love that I'm still getting Arcane requests even though the fandom seems to have died down a little.

Viktor is sensual and rough when he makes love with you. Sensual with his words, rough with his fingers and when he thrusts into you. It's the duality of him, kind of in the same way where he seems really cute and meek but is actually pretty cocky behind closed doors.

He always balances his sweet talking with the same amount of his cock hitting at just the right angle inside of you to get your eyes to roll into the back of your head. Will praise you to no end, but in between every word he will make sure he gets a good thrust in to keep you on your toes, and your back arched.

"Thought you liked it when I talked all sweet to you, darling. Was that a lie? No, no, I'm not saying you lie to me all the time, just when you really crave this dick. You should be honest, I love you and I love giving you what you want, so don't even try to tell me to shut up now okay? I know it makes you tighter when I talk."

Jayce is the most passionate guy you've ever made love to. He puts his all behind everything he does, weather that be the candle-lit path to the bedroom, the foreplay where he's on all fours and eating you our or when he has you on all fours and hammering your cunt like there's no tomorrow.

No way will you be able to even think of any other man when he shows you what he can do for you. He dedicates his all to your pleasure, his is secondary to you. In fact the most pleasure he will get is when he sees you that you're enjoying what he's doing for you, to you.

"Here's good right? Doesn't hurt? Good, with my size it can be a little tricky. All out then, fuck... been waiting for you to say that all night. Babe, I'm about to ruin you. Oh you bet, gonna make you lose count of your orgasms, I wanna make you feel the best you've ever felt."

Silco is very intense and can get very rough if the situation calls for it. He really likes to show his power over you and make every experience better then the last by making you wait, by edging you a bit longer until you come to the point where you're the one hoping on his cock when the doors slam shut.

There are few people he enjoys spending time with and you're definitely one of them, weather its you bent over his office desk, cockwarming him while he goes over the papers, or choking on his cock all day under the desk, he likes having you close and he likes when you know he's the boss.

"A break? We just got started darling. That was just two, there's still a lot more to go. If it's gonna make it easier you can rest by getting under the desk a little. If I feel that mouth, or your hand stopping for even a second you're gonna give me two more orgasms. Understood? Good girl."

Vander can get very passionate and rough but he always follows it up with a really long cuddle and aftercare session. That's something he likes slightly more then the sex itself. It's good, its really good, having your warm pussy stretched around his huge cock, but he can't say he doesn't love it how you cuddle up on top of him after.

He always prepares you for his cock but the prep can be just as rough as the sex itself since its so easy for him to get lost in the whimpers and moans that you make when he adds another finger. And then another. Your hip and thighs are sometimes bruised with a very big handprint. You don't always hide it either.

"Easy darlin', I know you're as horny as can be but you know as well as I that you can't me right away. Its frustrating? Well I'm sorry for being big, nothing I can do about it. I'll get you there don't worry. In the mean time, tell me, how was your day? You thought of me? That's very flattering, I couldn't stop thinking about getting my hands on you either."

Ekko is a very sensual lover and a bit on the calculated side as well. A lot of his plans tend to go a little astray when he sees you naked but eventually he's able to get you right where he wants you and make you feel good.

He cannot stop touching you while he makes love to you. He needs to feel your body quivering every time he jolts his hips forward and buries his cock to the hilt, every time you bite into his neck to muffle your next moan because you know how cheeky he can be and go from slow to fast and then to slow again in order to make it last longer for the both of you.

"You keep messing up my plans Firefly. I was gonna sweep you of your feet, make it all nice, romantic for you, but you had to go and make me this hard right away. I can't focus on romance like this, all the blood's rushing to my cock. Fucking gods, getting on your knees is not making it any better. Well... maybe a little bit."

Marcus is rough and intense because in all honestly he feels like he doesn't deserve what he has with you. He needs to make sure he's not dreaming, that you're real, that you love him despite all his damn mistakes, that you can handle everything he has to give.

When he really gets into it there's hardly any stopping him until he's spent and laying almost limp on top of you, kissing your neck, your shoulders, your face, almost like he's saying sorry when there's nothing for him to be sorry for. You always assure him that when you allow him to be rough, its because you want him to be, he's never hurting you unless you need him to, and he never will.

"Did I overdo it? You'd tell me if I did right? No, I know you can be my pretty painslut, I love that side of you sweetheart, you know I do. Just trying to make sure. You think you can take more? Your pussy's already so sensitive, it keeps pulsing around me, squeezing out all the cum, are you sure? One more round then."

Finn is very rough with you and is proud of all the ways he makes you whimper and moan and even cry on occasion. There is a safeword for you to use but he's rarely heard it from you so he's very familiar with your limits by now. He really likes to manhandle you and use your body as his pretty fucktoy, you're not even ashamed that you like it just as much anymore.

He was so surprised when you asked him to slap you but he didn't hold back either. He kissed, or rather licked the pain away before ramming his cock back inside your cunt with so much force your back arched off the bed and scratch his back up like he's been mauled. Good, he loves a mutual give and take.

"Oh my gods kitten, begging to be hit. I knew you were a kinky whore from the moment I saw you. Aren't you glad I helped you find this side of yourself? If you're so grateful you'll come on my cock right now. Do it! Come on, come on, let me feel that cunt sucking my cock."

#arcane #arcane x reader #viktor x reader #jayce x reader #silco x reader #vander x reader #ekko x reader #marcus x reader #finn x reader #arcane imagines #arcane headcanon #arcane smut #league of legends #league of legends x reader #league of legends imagine #league of legends headcanons #league of legends smut

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comicaurora · 5 months

Note

If YouTube shuts down in five years or if the channel stops doing well or if you just burn out or whatever, what’s your backup career? I feel like a lot of “content creators” become super specialized into doing content creation stuff

This question is interesting, because you've given voice to one of the anxieties it took me the longest to overcome.

My thesis on life is you can't live in any sort of healthy manner if you're constantly planning for the worst case scenario - what you would do if everything in your life suddenly changed. Like how you can't live comfortably anywhere if you've constantly planning for the next time you'll move out.

For me, that question takes the form "what if youtube suddenly exploded", but everyone has a scenario like that. In fact, everyone has an infinite number of scenarios like that.

What would I do for I living if I got sick or had an accident and could no longer meet the physical demands of my job?

What would I do if I had a breakdown and needed everything to stop?

What's my contingency plan for if my entire company exploded and I got laid off without warning?

What've I got lined up if a global pandemic shut down all in-person jobs?

What's my backup plan if I lost the sense I needed to create the art I specialize in?

What if my mind deteriorated and I could no longer engage with reality at all?

What if technological advancement replaced the need my job currently fills?

What'e my plan for if I lose someone I love and it breaks me?

What will I do if a natural disaster destroys my house?

Where will I live if a meteor hit the earth tomorrow?

The idea that "content creators" overspecialize ignores the fact that most people get very comfortable doing the thing they spend most of their time doing, and very rarely seriously plan for the scenario where their One Thing is ripped away from them and they have to find something else. The phenomenon of "person loses their job after years of work" is famous for being massively disruptive, and that isn't because everyone in the world is dumb or bad at planning ahead - it's because a disruption like that is a disruption, in the same way that an injury will always hurt. I don't think it's a failing for someone to live their life as it currently exists, just like it isn't a personal failing if someone experiences a catastrophic change and has to readjust. You can't solve a problem that doesn't exist yet, and if it does happen, it'll come with information and parameters that you'll need to actually deal with it rather than just worrying about it.

If youtube explodes, maybe I'd join our other youtube friends on another platform as we all worked to solve the same problem together. Maybe I'd be in a financial position where I wouldn't need an immediate fallback plan and could take uncomplicated time off. Maybe I'd pivot 100% to writing. Maybe I'd drop off the grid and live in the woods for a while. Maybe I'd get serious about pursuing voice acting or theater. Maybe a friend would recommend an opening at their normal person job. Since we're only pondering a hypothetical catastrophe, we can't predict any of the other factors that'd be in play that would actually determine how we'd handle it.

Most of us will experience many life-changing turning points, and in turn get to experience many different lives. I'm very much enjoying this one, but I'm not worried about what the next one might look like. Overplanning will spoil the adventure with needless anxiety - I'll just be excited to explore it whenever it comes.

#asks #not aurora

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justporo · 7 months

Note

Hello! Very sorry if your post was rhetorical, but you asked for Astarion fluff and I had an idea. Since he's a canonical cay person, I like to think that a druid Tav would enjoy wildshifting into a cat and lounging in his lap, either acting as a heat source or letting him run his fingers through their fur when he's nervous or upset.

Anon, thank you so much. I immediately had a scene in my head and this was a true delight to write.

So now that I'm already crying from replying to that other Anon message (not their fault ofc), let's return to our regularly scheduled fluff, eh?

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You, Druid this time) Wordcount: 1,8k

Cats with Benefits

Sometimes it got all too much. Those were usually the moments you used your wild-shape abilities to shift into a cat and strolled off into the forest to have some moments of peace and quiet.

Today had been an especially exhausting day – the party had been fighting and bickering trying to figure out how to get through the Mountain Pass. The way was always steep and only loosely fixed, so you only made very slow progress and all of you were already completely exhausted came noon. So, you had decided that you’d take an additional rest midday when the sun was high and hot, adding to your already physically demanding hike.

You had put down your pack, went a few yards into the nearby patch of trees you had stopped at today to use their generous shade, and shifted into your usual form of a fluffy black cat and started to stroll around the small patch of forest. For some time you just wandered over fallen trees or through the underbrush, enjoying how differently it was to experience nature from the perspective of a feline creature. You loved it – it was almost like meditation for you.

The others didn’t know you wandered off like this sometimes. Or at least they hadn’t mentioned it. They wouldn’t leave without you and so far, you’d always gotten back to them in time. And as of late tension was high enough that everyone was pretty much occupied with just themselves, so they didn’t miss you.

After some time, you found a nice big rock in the sun on a clearing in the woods. Perfect for a cat to lounge on and take a nap. You jumped up, allowed yourself a long full body stretch and a big yawn and then rolled up into a ball of fur to enjoy the sun and some time alone.

As you laid there, your thoughts started to wander. You thought about your companions. You liked them, each and every one of them. Naturally, some more than others but you respected them all. But the path through the Mountain Pass had been a strain on all of you. And it really hadn’t helped that today everyone had just seemed on edge from the very first step on out.

Specifically, Astarion had been incredibly annoying today. Not being able to stop complaining about everything. Always replying with a sarcastic remark. To be honest, your relationship with him was probably the hardest and most formal of all thus far.

You had already realised that his flirty and sassy behaviour obviously were his coping mechanism for something deeply troubling, but by the Gods, it seemed he could never shut up. He was hand full at the best of times. Your furry ears started to twitch and the tip of your tail zig-zagged just thinking about it.

You tried to clear your mind then after your thoughts kept spiraling, hoping to relax enough that you could actually sleep a little.

But only shortly after your peace was broken.

“Well hello, who are you my beauty? A descendant of a mighty mountain lion? Rawr.”

No, it couldn’t be… The damned vampire had found you.

Of course he didn’t know it was you, but…

You opened one eye lazily and saw Astarion lean down to you, reaching out one hand to stroke you. Your jaws opened and you could already feel the hiss inside you rising to the top, but oh.

His touch was so gentle. His fingers softly stroked from the top of your head down your feline neck and back and you couldn’t resist leaning into his hand when he started again from the top.

“Someone likes that, hmm?”, Astarion said softly while petting what he received only as a wild but friendly cat.

Shifting into an animal also meant adapting some of their unique abilities and habits, so you couldn’t help when your feline body responded to the gentle touches by purring.

The vampire was positively intrigued when he heard that. As you opened your other eye you could see his big smile – a genuine one. You had never seen him smile like that. “Seems like someone’s just as touch-starved and desperate for some comfort as me”, he whispered while continuing his pets. That made your ears perk up and you immediately felt for the pale elf. Questions filled your mind about his unknowing revelation.

But you had barely any time to ponder them because suddenly the vampire scooped you up into his arms and sat down in front of the boulder you had laid down on. You yelped – or rather meowed at the sudden change of position.

Astarion moved carefully with your cat self in his arms until he was laying in the grass, legs angled, and you snuggled up against his chest. Since he had donned his armour and was only in his camp clothes you could feel his body, beneath your own.

This was incredibly weird and would probably end up with an awkward revelation but – you couldn’t deny that it was also very delightful.

“We can be cuddle buddies, my beauty, at least for an afternoon. So we can both get some much needed affection, hm?”, Astarion whispered to you. His red eyes looked so sad saying that. Whatever you had started to think about to get out of this situation evaporated. Suddenly, you only wanted to keep him company – it seemed he desperately needed it.

And the way he unknowingly had started opening up to you: it was a good albeit saddening look on him. You wanted to provide some comfort it that was what he seeked.

Also, it felt incredibly good to lay there on your new vampiric stone, soaking up the sun together while Astarion carefully continued petting you: scratching behind your ears, stroking down your back with both hands, even when he tickled one of your paws with a single finger. And you couldn’t stop purring. That bastard knew exactly what to do to keep the purrs coming.

Then after a while he just laid there with you, hands on your soft and shiny fur. He sighed: “I wish I could take you with me. You seem to like me. At least more than my other companions.”

Your ears perked up again, you looked at him but he had his eyes closed, head lolled back to enjoy the warming sunlight.

“Especially, Tav”, Astarion continued with another sigh “I wish I knew a way how to change that.”

That was it. You couldn’t in good faith continue to lay there with him as he offered up his innermost feelings. You got up and jumped off the vampire’s chest who got up on his elbows looking sad by your departure. You sat there and shortly pondered if you should just leave, keeping your secret. But you couldn’t, you needed him to know – and also have some words with him.

You changed back into your humanoid form, making Astarion scurry back from you, eyes wide with shock.

“Hi Astarion”, you whispered as you knelt beside him.

“You – what? How? Oh, I knew your eyes looked familiar!” His voice rose several octaves and you kept silent as his mood changed from shock to anger – but he stayed where he was.

“What the fuck was that about? Trying to spy on me?”, he hissed at you. Excuse him? He invaded your privacy. “I was here first, you bastard!”, you spat back and crossed your arms over your chest.

“And you didn’t think to reveal yourself before I proceeded to make you fucking purr?” “How when you didn’t leave me anytime in between petting me and lifting me up? I only wanted to be alone!”, you screamed back.

That made Astarion’s shoulders slump a little, some of his softer side returned. “I’m sorry”, he said quietly.

“No, I’m sorry”, you replied and looked down at your knees while pressing the balls of your head against your forehead “I should have said something way earlier.”

You looked up at him: “But then you sounded so sad and I… didn’t want you to be sad so I let it happen and it was kinda nice... I’m sorry, I invaded your privacy like this, Astarion. I’ll just leave and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

You saw the surprise on the vampire’s face who remained silent. So, you moved to get up, but Astarion quickly grabbed your wrist. “No, please. Stay… It was nice”, he confessed and looked into your eyes. The look he gave you was almost pleading.

The urge to move in and hug him overcame you, so you acted upon it – you had already laid on his chest, hadn’t you? How much worse could this make it?

You moved in and wrapped your arms around him – surprising the yelping vampire so much that he fell onto his back again. You were scared that you had crossed yet another line but to your own surprise you felt his arms wrap around you in return slowly.

And so you hugged him long and tightly. He was tense at first, but you felt him relax after some time. He even started to stroke your back again. You squeezed him and held onto him trying to offer him as much comfort and affection you could muster.

“For the record, I do like you, Astarion. You’re just annoying sometimes. But so can the others be, and I too”, you spoke into his chest, squeezing him yet harder. “And if… if you need someone to maybe talk to or hug you or just, you know, lounge in the sun… I can also change back into a cat, if you want me to. I could be your cat with benefits so to speak”, you brabbled into his shirt before you got too shy to make the offer. Your words were muffled but you hoped he heard you.

He did and the vampire chuckled softly. “That sounds… nice. Thank you. I may take you up on that if you promise you will keep this our little secret”, he answered hesitantly. You lifted your head from his shirt but not letting him go. “Would you like me to change back into a cat?”, you asked him and blushed as you realised what kind of weird deal you had just made with the vampire.

“No, Tav, not this time. This… this is very nice too”, Astarion replied and gave you another – the second this afternoon! – genuine smile. And this time it felt even better, knowing it was actually meant for you. You smiled back and placed your head on his chest again. Astarion’s hands kept softly wandering over your back as you kept holding him.

This is where you comfortably remained until it was time to get back to camp. But you were both sure it wouldn’t be the last opportunity to enjoy a nice cuddle in the afternoon sun.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #baldur's gate iii #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #astarion x you #poro answers #poro writes #cats #again

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dailyadventureprompts · 6 months

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Heavy Topics: A Child's Vision of Evil

One of the first big “aha!” moments in my journey to retrofit d&d’s laughably bad lore was the realization that the way the game treated evil didn’t make much sense. As a dungeonmaster I was asked to create dramatic stakes for my players but the out-of-the-box antagonists supplied to me were as laughably one note as the pollution loving villains in Captain Planet. Who would ever worship the demon god of killing everything that lives? Of torturing you for all eternity? Of being unpleasantly covered in slime?

None of it really made sense until I started to understand the world and recent history through a political lens, at which point several things became clear:

Despite how large a bogyman it played in the satan scare of the late 80s, the people who laid the foundations for the lore of d&d came from a background of conservative american christianity, and baked a lot of that ethos into the game.

The conservative christian imagination can only see things in black and white. People who disagree with them can’t just have a different opinion, even if that opinion is objectively good, they need to be wilfully evil . In fact they must be trying as hard to be evil as the christian is trying to be good, because they’re a backwards person, a monster, a demon.

This idea of the “Backwards Person” is the exact process that gave rise to the bloodlibel, to the witchpanics, to the redscare, and yes, the 80s fear that satanists lurk around every corner sacrificing babies and putting poison in candy because they love evil that much. It’s the same thought that’s given rise to Q-anon and the groomer panic. “People who disagree with just can’t just have a different opinion, they must be demons.”

D&D’s classic enemies are similarly all “backwards people”, hardwired to do evil so that players always have an excuse to kill them. While on the surface it seems harmless or even childish it leads to the default d&d world being one where peace is impossible and genocidal violence is the only correct answer.

We can do better in our writing than a bunch of shut-ins who wanted nothing more than to play cowboys and indians while ripping off Tolkien. Whether you want to write a sweeping epic or a mindless dungeon crawler, there’s a way to reconfigure d&d lore.

Join me below the cut for a discussion of different ways to use evil in your games.

Children cannot control their emotions nor their fear, they lack the life experience necessary to contextualize things beyond a surface level reading. If you ask a child to "imagine something bad" they're going to take something that scared them, something gross or unpleasant or threatening and imagine it blown up to cartoonish proportion. Tolkien got bit by a spider as a kid and the entire fantasy genre has never lived it down.

D&D is weird because it keeps these childish ideas about evil and drags them forward into an adult context. Those three demon gods I mentioned in the intro make a sort of sense when you realize they're fears of dying, pain, and uncleanliness made manifest. That said most of us having outgrown our childish simplicity understand that those things are neutral, Spiders might personally gross you out but we all understand that doesn't make them bad on a spiritual level. In the base d&d lore however that personal distaste is ALWAYS true: Evilness is synonymous with ugliness and monstrousness, drawing a thick crayon line between the good people and the bad things.

That's where we get our particular flavor of backwards people, because one of those fundamental (pun intended) fears d&d inherited from it's creators was xenophobia, fear of the strange, but also fear of the stranger. When the white, suburban, middle class, christian creators of d&d imagined the other they took all the bad things they had been told in their youth about people who were not them and made them into monsters: That's why the default thinking enemies of d&d are tribal primitives who squat in the ruins of greater civilizations worshipping demons while coveting the beauty and wealth of cultured people. It sounds hyperbolic, but there's a one for one parallel between between the weird sexual anxieties conservatives have about black men and orcs raiding human lands to kidnap women as breeding stock. Same fears about emasculation and race mixing and ethnic replacement, only d&d gives the good ol' boys a narrative vehicle where they can revenge themselves upon their imagined foe.

Most modern d&d is not like this, and I chalk that up to the demographic shift that's happened both because of time passing and the influx of new voices that came along with the 5e renaissance. We're all media literate enough to avoid the obvious racial pantomime... except in cases like the Hardozee when the devs port something almost word for word from an older edition and we get a thanksgiving uncle/facebook aunt screed about how the silly monkey people are really SO happy to work for the refined and civilized and white elves.

What's left behind however is that pervasive childlike worldview: Where perfectly natural things that creep us out (like rot) or frighten us (like pregnancy) are made universally villainous regardless of any themes that are going on in that specific story. Ask yourself why the creators of a piece of media made their badguys look and act like they did, rather than just accepting that it's that way because "the lore says so".

Anyway, that's my rant over, and I promised you guys some different versions of how to use Evil:

Classic demons or lovecraftian horrors make for good bossfights but are thin on character, one of the basic building blocks of story. To remedy this, pair your unremitting force of darkness and destruction with a troubled and nuanced mortal agent, someone who is trying their general best but has been forced down this low road by circumstances beyond their control. This gives your roleplaying focused players something to play off against while your combat focused ones battle a building sized monstrosity. Raw evil isn't interesting, it becomes interesting when we see what it makes morally grey people, even good people, do in reaction to it.

Extremity is one of the best ways to turn normal people into villains, a looming disaster or recent crisis that's putting the pressure on everyone and preventing anyone from thinking beyond protecting themselves and their own. Beyond the people acting rashly, you're also going to have a legion of opportunists offering to fix the problem as your higher rank of antagonists to overcome.

Similarly, if you're going to have your villain backed up by legions of faceless mooks you're going to need a reason for their loyalty. Your villain is offering them something worth dying for, which gives your heroes an alternate win condition for overcoming their numbers beyond genocide.

If you're willing to take a step into a more fanciful, cartoony universe, feel free to play with the idea of good and evil as arbitrary teams: It's the badguy's job to cause chaos and it's the goodguy's job to stop em, they're all working professionals and the dungeon is the workplace comedy. This is fun, but then lets you escalate the tension when someone doesn't play by the rules. What happens when a zealot starts executing evildoers who'd already surrendered? what happens when the villain summons something that is more interested in devastation than wacky hijinx?

Think of morality like a punnett square: There's the party, and then there's the villain who wants the opposite of what they want. THEN there's the villain who wants what the party wants, and the ally who wants the opposite of party wants. Suddenly rather than a simple binary, the party is forced to balance the interest of varying groups as well as their better judgment. This can be made even MORE complex by creating different categories of "what the party wants", which is generally how you get complex political dramas like game of thrones.

#heavy topics #writing advice #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder

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mncxbe · 2 months

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𝐟𝐰𝐛 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐮, 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: tysm for your sweet message nonnie♡ you're really sweet and yes i'm doing well. i made some hc for them separate and together (for silly) and also added some sfw stuff. enjoy!

𝒄𝒘: lowkey mean jouno (he calls you little slut), choking, mentions of breath play and other kinks, pussy slapping, orgasm denial, creampie, power dynamics if you squint

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑ ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑ ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨

assuming you're part of the hunting dogs, the first time you two hook up is after a stressful mission. you just needed to blow off some steam but had a surprisingly good time so you agreed to be friends with benefits from then on

he prefers to meet at his place cuz he feels more in control that way. plus I see him using handcuffs and toys so it's easier that way

Jouno is a dom. unless he's too tired after a mission he won't sub. he gets off to mentally overpowering and degrading you. also be prepared for some intense sessions

ofc he can be sweet and gentle if you ask him to but he generally prefers rougher sex. that way it doesn't feel like you two make love (what's that emotional intimacy? nuh uh)

he does like to experiment with different kinks. he's super into breath play and blindfolding you. also orgasm denial. makes you call him sir

honorable mentions: he actually respects your boundaries and the aftercare is surprisingly nice. outside of the bedroom he's very professional and respectful but if you tease or upset him he's gonna get back to you

overall experiemce: 8/10 cuz he sometimes takes it too far and he's a bit mean

You were about to leave the break room when Jouno barged in, slamming the door shut.

"Oh hi Jouno everything alri–"

Before you could finish your sentence his gloved hand was wrapped around your throat. "You little brat. You've got some nerve don't ya?" He pulled your face impossibly closer to his as he jammed his thigh between your legs, pressing your back against the table behind you. "Think you're so smart mouthing off during the meeting, asking Fukuchi for more teambuildings because me and Tecchou can't get along?"

You tried to pry his hand off your neck but he only tightened his grip, making your vision blur "Jouno p-please I didn't mean it like that" you babbled out, earning a chuckle from the man. "Oh I know how you meant it. You're just chasing that praise aren't ya, you little slut. You think I can't tell how giddy you get when someone tells you you've got a good idea or you did a good job?"

Jouno's leg pressed against your core and you instinctively shifted your hips, seeking some sort of friction. Despite the situation you were in you couldn't help but feel worked up and Jouno could tell, his own bulge forming in his pants. His hand moved from your neck to your jaw, squeezing it harshly "Since you're so concerned about the well being of our team, how about you tell the others how well we get along? How you moan my name every night and fuck yourself stupid on my cock?"

"'m sorry Jouno" you whispered, heat rising to your cheeks. "Oh I know you are, pretty. So how about you show it, hm?" The man grabbed your hips, hoisting you up on the table before pulling down your uniform pants and discarding them on the floor. "Let me eat you out"

"But Jouno we're at work..." you fumbled, squeezing your thighs together but he quickly pried them open, positioning himself between your legs. You would've lied if you said that seeing him on his knees in front of you– for you, didn't make your core tighten.

"And?" he retorted, brushing his fingers over the damp spot on your panties "That doesn't seem to stop you from soaking your underwear. Does it turn you on, knowing that anyone could walk in on us? Or are you just that desperate for me?"

You became even more embarrased after hearing his words and looked away, biting down on your lip. Jouno pulled your underwear to the side, running his fingertips along your slit– he could smell your arousal and it was making his head spin as he rubbed little circles on your needy clit before slapping it harshly. "I expect you to answer when I ask you a question, brat"

The sudden contact made your body jolt and you immediately nodded "Yes, Jouno– I mean sir. Yes sir I really need you right now. Need you to touch me"

"Do you?" he taunted, taking off his glove and pushing a finger inside your cunt, curling it perfectly against your sweet spot. "Yes I– oh God" you mewled as he lightly sucked on your clit. You took off his cap and carefully placed it next to you before one of your hand found its way into his hair, pulling him closer to your needy cunt.

Jouno ate you out like a starved man, his lips latched on your clit and his slender fingers curled oh so nicely inside you, hitting your sweet spot and making whines and moans spill from your lips. It didn't take long for you to reach your high, feeling a familiar knot tightening in your abdomen but before you could cum Jouno got up to his feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sai..." you whined, pouting at the man but he only chuckled "Serves you right. Maybe next time you won't forget your place."

He reached for his hat, placing it back on his head. "Don't worry, sweets, I'll take good care of you tonight if you behave." Jouno gave your thigh a light pat before walking out of the room, leaving you aching for more. God, he was such an ass sometimes...

𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐮

he's a bit reluctant at first cuz he doesn't really get the point of it– Tecchou doesn't have the highest sex drive, but he's really flattered that you find him attractive enough to ask him to be fwb

he's really sweet and gentle with you, takes his time to learn what you like. praises you a lot too and overall focuses on your pleasure above all

the sex itself is pretty vanilla so don't expect him to be rough like Jouno but if you want to experiment he's open

Tecchou is a true switch. he's fine with anything as long as you feel good– you wanna top him? sure. you want him to fold you in half and manhandle you? that works perfectly fine too

aftercare is mostly him talking to you about stuff in his life and although he shouldn't, he lets you spend the night if you're too tired to go home or it's too late

that's why he actually gets attached after a while and starts developing feelings for you. but he does a good job at keeping them hidden because he doesn't wanna ruin your arrangement or make you feel uncomfortable (until he inevitably confesses them in the heat of the moment)

overall 10/10 experience

You've been friends with benefits with Tecchou for a couple of months now and things couldn't have been better. He treated you better than any of your exes have and actually knew what he was doing in bed. As for now, Tecchou had you laying on your back with the top of your thighs pressed against your chest, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each deep thrust.

" 'chou–" you whined, pretty nails digging into his wrists as you tried to ground yourself "too much 's too much". The man only grunted in response, his eyes squeezing shut as he kept rolling his hips against yours. "Relax, angel, just relax ah– you're s-so tight like this"

Tecchou was on cloud nine, completely lost in the feeling of your walls clenching down around him, pushing him to another orgasm. He'd already came once, his cum pooling in a creamy ring at the base of his cock, but he just couldn't stop now– not until he had you writhing underneath him.

Ever since the two of you started hooking up, pleasing you has become his top priority. You were just too precious, so sweet and kind to him, so patient when he told you that he doesn't really have that much experience when it comes to sex. Work took up most of his time so he never had the chance to have a proper relationship, let alone be intimate with someone else. But still you taught him everything he needed to know about pleasing a woman. It didn't take him too long to realize he'd fallen for you but he never said anything to you about it– too afraid to ruin what the two of you had. So he simply cherished these moments when he has you all to himself, moaning his name and clinging to him as is he were the last thing that kept you together.

"Hiro– Hiro baby ah fuck– there right there" you babbled out, your back arching off of the mattres to offer him a better angle. Your shaky fingers moved to your clit, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive bud as your eyes fluttered shut. God, you were so beautiful like this.

Tecchou's strong arms almost gave out when he felt your cunt squeezing down on him and he grabbed your legs, pulling the backs of your thighs flush against his abdomen. His face was basically buried between your calves as he started moving again, making you gasp. It was overwhelming in the best way possible– you could feel every ridge of his cock as he dragged it in and out of your gummy walls and it was driving you over the edge. "Oh God oh God i'm close s-so so close" you mumbled, pressing your tits together as you locked gazes with the man in front of you.

Maddening. It was utterly maddening. Tecchou swore he could spend the rest of his life fucking you like this and he wouldn't have any regrets. His eyes moved to your tits– so prettily bouncing with each of his thrusts despite your best efforts to keep them still and your face. Oh your face; blissed out with your plushy lips quivering as he pushed you closer to your high. With his own orgasm threatening to wash over him, Tecchou tightened his grip on your legs, hugging them closer to his body as he nuzzled his face between your calves, peppering them with kisses "You're so, so beautiful angel ah s-shit I could look at you all day long. M-my pretty girl love you, love you so much ah fuck—"

His sudden confession made the tight knot in your belly snap and you gushed around him, coating his length and abdomen in your slick. " 'chou please 'm all yours. want you to fill me up" you mewled and Tecchou's vision went white. That was all it took for him to cum again. A loud, broken groan spilling from his lips as his hips halted, his cum pooling inside you. When he eventually pulled out with a wet pop his cum seeped out of your hole, dribbling down onto the damp mattress.

You were both breathless, staring blankly at one another. "So um..." you said eventually, cutting through the awkward silence "You like me, now?"

"Yea, I guess I do." confessed the man, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Do you mind it?"

"Why would I mind it, Tecchou?" you giggled, motioning him to lay next to you and he obliged. Wrapping your arms around him, you cuddled yourself close to his chest, breathing in his musky scent. "I mean, I kinda like you too. You're really sweet."

Tecchou smiled, his pretty amber eyes lighting up. He quickly pressed a kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on top of your head "I'm glad then. Maybe we can talk about it when we wake up?"

"Mhm, sure" you sighed contently before drifting off to sleep, leaving Tecchou with a pounding heart and that dumb, lovesick smile on his face.

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐱 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐮

Jouno makes a very detailed schedule because god forbid you spend more time with Tecchou

it's a competition, really– who makes you cum more times and they always discuss it at work. Jouno's a bit petty

"So, Tecchou. How did it go with y/n last night?"

"Pretty well actually."

"Oh yea? Well I made her squirt two times the night before so I bet you didn't do that well"

if Jouno ever gets jealous of Tecchou prepare for some hate sex♡ and for him to leave hickeys all over your tits and thighs so Tecchou knows who you actually belong to (yea, he gets a bit posessive)

Tecchou is very normal about it

if you ask them nicely enough they may agree to a threesome. but oh boy prepare for a sleepless night (+100% sure they kiss too)

it'd basically go like this

yes I did shamelessly reference a previous post because I have exams tomorrow and sadly couldn't write more

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betasquads · 7 months

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JEALOUSY, Niko Omilana

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Summary: In which your boyfriend Niko Omilana gets visibly upset and jealous at how close you we're being with your work partner, Sharky.

Warnings: does kissing count as a warning?

A/N: lmk if you guys want a part two !

also this isn't checked so excuse me if there's any common mistakes, it was rushed.

You met your boyfriend Niko through Sharky, and you couldn't be more grateful. You had immediately hit it off even though the vibe between you two wasn't the best in the beginning.

No one had thought that you, a complete different aesthetic would hit it off with someone like Niko.

Even Sharky himself could feel his blood boil everytime at the mention of you two together since he was confident that when he introduced you to the beta squad was that no one would come close to you.

It's not like you were a terrible person or anything like that. You were just your own person. A really known person who would show up on youtube to give up your own mindset about dating and how miserable it makes you. You weren't just babbling words for fame or attention, you went through a relationship that made you hate the idea of dating or falling in love.

You always promised to yourself to never date infront of millions of watchers, but of course, it was immediately changed once you had met Niko. He was a fearless individual with a strong personality and that was what drew you in.

You kept your relationship private, until Niko sneaked a kiss on your lips not knowing that there was paparazzi lingering around.

You simply didn't care and never really replied to what the media said, until it started becoming really annoying.

Of course, the internet wouldn't leave you alone, what'd you expect? So the only message that you gave to the world was simply, 'I was wrong about all the things I've said, because not every man that you meet is like the rest.'

But Sharky always felt deeply hurt after it was announced that you and Niko were officially together. It wasn't even Niko's fault, Sharky always kept these feelings locked away for the sake of your happiness with your passion of telling the world about your point of view and experience with falling in love.

If he knew that he couldn't have you now, he'll wait. Even if it was for years. Plus that didn't really stop him from flirting or observing from afar.

Niko would catch the way he looks at you, but of course you being oblivious, all you did was laugh whenever Sharky treated you extra special. You always thought it was because you've been friends way before fame hit for both of you, but you were completely wrong.

Niko would always be furious, but since he really didn't have proof for everything, he decides to keep his mouth shut.

"Today on beta squad, we're doing our very own edition of would i lie to you." Right after Chunkz makes the announcement, everyone including you start cheering in excitement.

Niko snakes an arm around your waist as he laughs in excitement and you turn to look up at him with butterflies swarming in your stomach. No matter how long the relationship you two have been together, you always felt this fuzzy feeling that always hit you and made you dizzy, the same exact warmth she had when she first met Niko.

They had thought it'd be a great idea to invite you for a video, just like how it is all the time. So you easily accepted, being really happy to be around them, especially Niko.

"On team one, on my right hand side, we have Nikolas Omilana, y/n y/l/n, and Sharky!" Niko was a little annoyed that out of all the people sharky had to be on their team, but irregardless, he was going to make sure that Sharky doesn't get too close.

"On my left hand side, we got Yung Filly, Aj shabeel, and King kenny!"

"They're all terrible liars, especially the gyall right there." Filly points at you and you just shrug, knowing that you had a tactic to work with.

"Let's start with this team first." Chunkz points at your team and Sharky was the first to start.

"You can do this." You whisper to Sharky and Niko obviously looking at you, felt his jaw tense.

He couldn't careless if this was Aj, Chunkz, Kenny, or even Filly, because he could clearly tell who liked you in a friendly way and he definitely knew Sharky liked you more than a friend.

"I got circumcised by a random Somali man." Sharky says and immediately everyone started to laugh, including you.

"Yeah, my mom knew at the age of 9." He nods with a straight face.

"So your mom let a random man touch your dick?" Niko who was supposed to be on your team, says to Sharky.

"Ay that's cheating! He's making it obvious that it is a lie." Aj points at Niko.

You nudge Niko playfully with your elbow and give him a look like you were telling him to behave and he just sends you a wholesome grin.

"Just a quick question. Any mandem over here seen his sausage? Or maybe the gyall over the–" Filly questions with a genuine hope that someone did see it, but Kenny immediately slaps the back of his neck to shut him up.

Niko's stomach turned at the statement even though it was clearly a joke, but it made him physically sick. He looks over to you, worried that it made you uncomfortable.

You on the other hand laugh it off for the sake of the video since you knew that's the humor that you had to take whenever you were filming with them, otherwise you being uncomfortable would've been seen as too dramatic among the fans. So, you just send a nod and a smile to Niko.

Chunkz agrees at Filly's question of him being circumcised and everyone let's out 'woo's' and 'ooh's' and he clarifies that it needs to be done because his religion said so for purification.

—

After a while the other team come into conclusion that it was false. Sharky shakes his in disapproval and shows them the side where it says true, and they all sigh and even let out yells of disapproval.

You on the other hand, wrap your arms around Sharky's shoulders as you both jumped into union and excitement.

Despite the grin on Niko's face, he was pissed. Seeing your cheeks a little flushed and your smile reaching your ears made him question himself. Do you laugh like this with him? Does he make you feel that happy?

All the thoughts swarm in his head and his stomach drops every second at the thoughts coming and he tries to push them off by focusing on it being Filly's turn.

—

It was currently the last round and both teams were tied. Your team decided to pick you for it since you knew how to get the other team confused. The other team picked Filly since he was the guest. If both teams tie again, you were going to keep going until one team wins.

You sigh deeply and grab your card, "I was expelled in 11th grade because my history teacher accused me of hitting her." You say with a straight face, but once you've seen Filly's face who was currently trying to hold in his laugh, you bite your lip to stiffen in your laughter.

"She's lying innit because she's laughing over there." Filly tells his teammates.

"I'm sorry, im sorry– but I can surely tell you that i am telling you the truth." You genuinely say but Aj was shaking his head as he was narrowing his eyes at you.

Kenny squints his eyes at you, "Tell us the story of what happened."

"So basically, I used to speak a lot during sessions and no matter how many times she's told me to shut up, yeah? I never did shut up and uh," You pause for second, trying to remember what had happened.

"She paused, she's thinking about how to fake the story." Kenny says and everyone yells as if they've caught the fact that you were 'faking' it.

"Ay, leave her alone. Let her continue." Sharky responds to them. Niko sends an annoyed look at Sharky, not caring if the camera caught it.

"Anyway, she was really mean for no reason and only had one way to expel me, and that is to lie. And let me just tell you something, yeah? She had to cry infront of the school administration to convince them that I did hit her. There's not much to say since the statement is direct and has no other explanation, but she hated the entire class and especially me." You explain and the opposed team starts laughing.

"Ay, she's good at waffling, but definitely a terrible liar." Aj speaks to the camera.

Niko began laughing at how your face was flushed in embarrassment, "Cold, cold. How do you feel being laughed at, baby?" He whispers in your ears but makes sure that everyone hears and rests his hand on your hips and makes sure his eyes meets Sharky who was already looking at him. You bite your bottom lip at how he presses his front against your back, forgetting for a moment that the camera was on.

"Take your hands off of her, Omilana. Not infront of the pizza shaped kid right across of you and the possibility of thousands of kids watching you." The host, Chunkz, warns Niko and he raises his hands up in surrender but sends you a glance that was far from innocent, and he tries to make sure that Sharky was looking at the entire interaction.

"Is that it?" Aj questions and you just simply nod.

"Bruva I can't lie, I have a deep feeling that she's told all of us this story before." Kenny says and you try not to wince, because you did indeed tell them before when you all hung out.

You just keep your straight face on at his statement, but inside, you could feel yourself screaming. You always took these challenges seriously.

"I'm not convinced that such teacher would do that." Filly shakes his head and you notice Aj nodding at his words. You internally beg that they would make it a lie.

They whisper to each other until Kenny grabs the stick that had lie and true, "We all think it's a lie." they come into conclusion and you could feel yourself grin.

"Alright, y/n, go ahead and reveal your answer." Chunkz announces loudly.

"It is..."

You show the side of the one that says 'true', "The truth!" You began laughing at their reaction, too lost to even notice the way Niko was looking at you.

He admired the way you were grinning from ear to ear and the way your cheeks were flushed and two strands of your hair on each side were laying on your face. What made him furious is the fact that Sharky was doing the exact same thing, admiring and taking in each feature of your face.

You pull both Niko and Sharky into a side hug as you jumped in excitement, "We could win this!" You say in joy.

"That's impossible! How could a teacher do that? Can't she get fired for that?" Aj yells, surprised.

"Maybe because she lied and she's the teacher which they would believe over the student, idiot." Kenny replies with a bland tone which erupted everyone's laugh.

"That is mad." Filly shakes his head.

You nod at Filly, "Go on."

"I once got locked in a car for two days." He states and you immediately grip Sharky's arm to contain your laughter since he was closer to you.

Niko just stares angrily at how touchy you were being this entire video. Hugging Sharky whenever you got something right or he did, constantly gripping his arms each time you wanted to laugh.

"That's impossible, ain't it?" You question.

"Just tell them the story, Filly." Chunkz says teasingly, clearly enjoying this.

"So uhm– so uh yeah. So–" He stutters.

"We caught him, we caught him!" Sharky says so loud that you laugh and shake your head.

"Let him speak you schmuck." Niko says a little aggressive, but no one picks up on it except for Sharky.

"I was around 7 and we had just got back from my first day of school and my mom took her groceries up to our house and left me in the car."

You couldn't take it seriously as you began laughing, "So you were in the car for two days? And she didn't drive you to school the next day?" You question, and everyone on your team and Chunkz let's out an 'ooooh' since you've picked up on something.

"We already know our choice. It's a lie." Sharky holds up the stick and Filly sighs.

"I'm sorry I did you both wrong, but yes, it is a lie." He says to both Kenny and Aj, disappointed.

Immediately on your left hand you felt someone pick you up for the victory, Sharky. He spinned you even though you feel a little uncomfortable about it, but you shrug it off.

Once he puts you down you turn to Niko and throw your arms around his neck and plant kisses all across his neck where camera can't see you doing this gesture. For some reason you could sense something off since you didn't feel the energy being returned. You just guessed that he was probably a little exhausted or tired.

"This confirms that this team had just won, congratulations to team one!" The host announces and the other team attacks each other and started blaming the other on why they lost.

"There's one important message that Filly and y/n have to say." Chunkz says a bit too serious.

You walk next to Filly and in union, you both say, "Play the trailer." The rest cheer and the camera was now off, everyone leaving to do their thing.

You run to Niko since his presence was the only thing that mattered to you. You see the way he was on his phone, not acknowledging your presence like he always does whenever you filmed with them.

You didn't think much of it and you wrap one of your hands around his neck, tiptoe–ing since he was tall. He always goes down a little for you, but for some weird reason, he doesn't.

You still reach to him after you struggle and your mouth finds his and you hear him let out a sharp sigh and his phone shutting off once your lips meets his. He places his phone inside his pocket and one hand wraps the front of you neck and the other grips your hip to deepen the kiss.

He kisses you like he's been longing to do so, but as if something comes into his senses, he takes his lips off of you and wipes his lips.

You're very confused by the action, but you immediately felt like there was somewhere to be, "I'll go to the lavatory and meet you outside." He just let's out a hum as his eyes were deeply focused on something in his phone.

You just chose to ignore it, not having anytime to start this since you both had somewhere special to be tonight. You and Niko don't live in the same apartment since you live with your best friend and so does he, so you barely find time to spend time together. You both had an idea of going out for dinner and just spending quality time for fun.

Before you took another step you see Sharky in the corner of your eye, coming to talk to you. Not wanting to be rude, you stood and waited until he made his way to you.

"Great game, they fans are going to love you even more for this." He smiles at you and you chuckle, flattered at this compliment.

"I'm so glad I had a chance to spend time with all of you." You send an appreciative friendly smile, but in Niko's eyes who was watching the entire interaction, was now sure it was far from friendly.

After that he definitely knew that he wasn't overlooking this. He had a huge feeling that you felt the same towards Sharky, and that just made him upset and furious.

So he gets up and walks up to the rest except Sharky to say his goodbyes and he leaves you all alone.

—

You hum to a song that came in your mind as you wash your hands thoroughly, drying them with tissues you had in your bag.

You get out with the widest smile, just for it to disappear when you see that Niko wasn't in the place where he was seated in the last time.

Confused, you walk to the rest of the boys who were all talking together about a conversation you weren't interested in, "Have you guys seen where Niko is?"

"Oh y/n you're still here? And what what do you mean by where Niko is? We thought you left with him?" Chunkz says, genuinely confused and even a little worried.

You furrow your eyebrows, "What? Left with him? No– I was in the lavatory for 10 minutes and now he's gone."

"This pussio just lied to us." Aj remarks jokingly, but there was a bit of a tone that indicated he was pissed that his best friend would do that.

"If this is a prank then seriously I have no time for this." You say with a bland tone and a fake smile, crossing your arms.

"Wallahi he left. He told us you were waiting in the car and that he had to leave." Chunkz was now completely confused on why Niko would abandon you, his girlfriend. Your fake smile immediately dropped.

You raise your eyebrows, surprised that Niko would even think of doing that. "Are you serious right now?" You said it more like a statement instead of a question since you knew that Chunkz was indeed telling the truth. Everyone's eyes are wide at the fact that Niko had just left you like that. You were also shocked.

You slightly scoff at how disrespected you just felt at the moment. You even felt embarrassed since you had no idea how you were going to get to your apartment or even get to him.

"I could drive you home if you'd like?" You hear Sharky offer.

"No I don't wanna tire you. Aj you live with him right? Can you drive me there or are you staying here for a while?" Your voice wavers as you speak, but you tried to keep a stern face.

Aj looks at you concerned and so does the rest, "That's so low, even for Niko." Filly remarks and unexpectedly he gets up and hugs you, almost squeezing you almost to death.

You hear the rest laugh at how soft Filly was, "Ay you crushing the poor gyall!" Chunkz remarks but that doesn't stop him from joining in the hug aswell.

"Jokes aside though, you good y/n?" Kenny asks with a genuine hope that you were truly fine.

You nod and chuckle, "Mhm, I'm fine. I can assure you that I'm completely fine." But deep down, you knew you weren't.

"I'm sorry y/n, I would love to do anything for you but i have to finish something up. If that's okay, you could stay for a little and I could drive you?" Aj asks with a little suggestive tone and everyone was practically begging you to stay with how they looked at you.

"As much as I don't wanna miss out on the opportunity to spend more time with you guys, I really want answers from Niko–"

"So does that mean I could drive you?" Sharky immediately speaks and you roll your eyes and nod with a chuckle.

"Alright let's go."

—

Sharky offered to stay at his car and wait for you and you say that it was alright if you could get a cab as a way to your apartment but he kept on insisting and you couldn't say no.

Now you could feel the anger rising as you walked to his apartment, entering the apartment with your spare key, angry with how Niko had just left you there. How did he even dare to do such thing?

When you storm towards the living room, you see Niko laid out on the couch, doing some work on his laptop.

"Seriously? You left me there? Did you forget about me?" You speak so loud you were sure that the neighbors might've heard, but you couldn't careless. You just wanted an apology in any sort of way.

He lazily shrugs and keeps his eye on the screen, and you could pinpoint the anger from the way he clenched his jaw at your voice.

You could feel your heart shatter at his action because he's never been like this. "Niko what–" You take a pause since you could feel the tears almost appearing from the way your voice cracked, and you most definitely didn't want to let him see you cry.

Once he's heard the voice crack, he immediately looks up with a hint of worry in his eyes, but it quickly disappears once he's seen that you weren't crying, immediately looking back down.

"What is this? What are you doing? Why are you acting like this? " The last sentence clearly sounded desperate.

When you didn't receive an answer, you shut the laptop aggressively and take it from him, setting it aside.

"I want to have a real conversation. Not a one sided one." You say, silently pleading for him to look at you or say anything. But he doesn't even acknowledge you, he just looks at the floor with a clenched jaw.

"Niko, you're hurting me. Where is all of this coming from? Look at me or just say anything, please." You could feel your heart beating rapidly at his silence treatment, not wanting this relationship to go any wrong. Words spilled out from your mouth like it was nothing, it was as if your heart longed for any response and therefore it formed the words automatically.

He scoffs disrespectfully at you, despite the way his heart hurt at the mention of you telling him that he was hurting you, "Sharky."

"What? Sharky? What about him?" You immediately respond, clinging on to whatever words he was going to say.

Truth to be told, you couldn't bare the thought of him leaving you. You were attached and in love with him to say the least.

"I really don't get how you can't see how he's basically flirting with you 24/7. I'm tired of it, and im extremely tired of you acting like you can't see it either. My girlfriend's surely not an idiot, is she?" His last sentence seemed a bit harsh, by the way he winced and cringed at his own words.

His eyes finally met yours and you could pinpoint the change in them. There was no warmth in them or the love he had for you like he always had whenever he looked at you, and you could confirm that you could feel the anxiety and fear kicking in.

"No, no, no. Sharky– Sharky will always be my friend. He does not like me and I assure you that I don't like him either." You say with your voice wavering and you shake your head as speak.

You grab Niko's hand, desperately trying to send him the message. What made it even worse, is the cold look he sent you. It seemed as if he was bored of this conversation and that he didn't want to even speak or continue.

He chuckles coldly at you, "You look really pathetic trying to convince me that theres nothing seriously going on between you and Sharky."

Your eyebrows furrow deeply and your mouth is slightly open at his words that stung you, "Because there's isn't anything going on." You say aggressively, feeling like you were talking to a crackhead who couldn't get his thoughts straight.

He rolls his eyes and slightly chuckles in a mocking manner, "Never knew that my own girlfriend is pathetic at thinking I wouldn't catch on."

Your mouth is open slightly at his harsh words that just kept coming more and more," What are you saying? I would never do such thing. Niko please–" He takes his hands off of yours and gets up from where he was seated.

He seems to be going to his bedroom, but before you could even go in to try and convince him, bam. The door was shut right infront of your face.

You were a taken aback by this, confusion and mostly hurt that he'd think of you doing something like that. You could feel your cheeks becoming stung by tears, looking around the shared apartment.

"Niko, I swear to God if you don't come out and apologize. We're over." Your voice was louder than you had thought, dead silence at the other side of the door. You let out a frustrated cry at his stubbornness when he doesn't get out.

Now tears fell like they've been held in for too long and You knew Aj was probably on his way so it was probably better if you just left, even though each step you took towards the door completely hurt you.

The plans you had for tonight with him was spending time with him just dining out and continuing the rest of the night in his room for since you both had been busy for weeks.

But now the only thing you were looking forward was how you were going to move on after this. Was it just confirmed that the both of you were done for?

You didn't understand what he was trying to do, it was as if he was trying to find an excuse to just leave you heartbroken and miserable.

You open the door a little too quick, while you walk faster by each second that passed by.

It was getting hard to breath. Your cries were heard through the halls, your brain telling you to suck it in. Your crying was getting loud as you felt a panic attack was close, you didn't feel good at all.

Your hand made its way to your mouth to stop yourself from crying even louder, the other pushing the elevator button.

Come run after me, Niko. Please come I really need you. You silently beg inside your head. You wait for the elevator, tears still finding its way out.

But you knew he wasn't going to come, it was his plan all along to push you away, at least that's what you had thought. You just needed to leave, you felt like the walls were starting to close on you.

And now the world was going to see you as the pathetic, stupid, 'y/n y/l/n who thought she could ever have a healthy relationship.'

—————————————

499 notes · View notes

sapphire-writes · 9 months

Text

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 7 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Aemond realizes he messed things up with you and attempts to reconcile at the summer carnival.

word count: 5.5k

rating: Mature/Explicit/18+

warnings below the cut!

warnings: language, exhibitionism, oral (fem-receiving), fingering, kissing

note: im starting to become obsessed with them ngl 🧍🏻‍♀️

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

as always, comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated but not expected ❤️

AEMOND POV

Aemond knew he had fucked up.

Royally, fucked up.

Something he finds himself doing quite often. It had been several days since the hot tub incident. Several days since he’d last spoken to her. Aemond glances at his phone again, watching the time change as Helaena hurries down the stairs.

“Morning,” she calls, tossing her phone onto the couch and stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh.

“It’s noon,” Aemond tells her.

“Where’s Y/N?” Helaena asks, sliding onto the couch next to him.

She lets her feet hang off the edge of the armrest, her neck straining over the cushion as though she’s about to topple off of the sofa altogether. It looks quite uncomfortable, and wildly different from Aemond’s rigid posture as he frowns over his phone.

“How should I know?”

“You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?” Helaena muses, playing with a strand of her hair, “You usually have your companions over more frequently, if I recall.”

Trying to, Aemond thinks to himself, his jaw clenched. If she’d return my calls.

“She’s upset with me,” Aemond admits, tossing his phone to the side. It’s always been hard to keep the truth from Helaena.

Helaena makes a noise of contempt.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll fix it. You’re clever that way,” Hel encourages, “Perhaps a grand gesture of sorts? Something Austen-esque.”

A phone buzzes on the sofa. Aemond checks his anyway, though he knows it’s Hel’s as she reaches for it.

“It’s whatever,” Aemond lies through his teeth, “Plenty of girls around for the summer.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Helaena says, twisting her body so she’s upright on the couch, “Can you calm down the fuckboy-sona for five fucking minutes?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Aemond says, shrugging.

Helaena rolls her eyes.

“Okay Egg,” she says with a sneer, “Manwhoring doesn’t look good on you Aem. It’s not in your nature. Doesn’t suit you at all.”

“Suits my cock just fine,” he says, causing Helaena to make a face of disgust.

“Gross,” she says, nose still scrunched, “It’s not you.”

Aemond doesn’t answer. Just glances at his phone again. The time greets him, but no other notifications. He opens Instagram, trying to avoid Helaena’s piercing gaze. As the app opens, he notices your profile picture, signifying you’ve posted a story. He shamelessly clicks on it, revealing you were at Seasnake Scoops seven minutes ago.

Perfect.

“Are you in the mood for ice cream?” Aemond asks, changing the subject and rising from the couch.

Helaena’s frown deepens.

“Aemond-”

“Hel, unless you’re saying yes or no to ice cream, just drop it,” he snaps, moving quickly to leave the room.

“Oh fuck you,” Helaena says, rising from the couch and following him, “You’re just scared Aemond! Fucking scared.”

He hears every word, though he pretends he doesn’t as the front door slams shut behind him, leaving Helaena alone in the house.

The last time Aemond Targaryen was in Seasnake Scoops it was not a pleasant experience. He’d been around thirteen years old at the time, and Aegon had assured him that Cece Lannister was waiting, expecting a date with him.

Aemond remembered how nervous he felt. Though Cece wasn’t his cup of tea, she was beautiful, smart, and held the social status and respect that Aemond craved. A date with Cece was sure to turn the tide for him.

He’d waited all afternoon for her. Seated at a table, knee bouncing uncontrollably with nerves. As people wandered in and out, the lady lion never made an appearance. It was Rhaenyra who found him as the sun began to set, seated on the curb outside the ice cream shop.

It had all been a joke, he’d realized once he entered the house. Aegon was in stitches until his mother smacked him upside the head and yelled at him. Aemond had stayed solemn, walking straight to his room without speaking.

They are always going to laugh at you, he thought to himself.

Standing outside the ice cream shop left a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Seasnake Scoops was unopposing in itself; it was the memories that haunted it. A small ice cream shop with some tables outside, with blue and white umbrellas offering some shade. There was indoor seating as well with air conditioning.

Aemond stared at the people in line to order, scanning the small crowd for you. The nervous feeling returned being surrounded by all these people, remembering Cece.

Until he saw her.

She had turned her head, reaching for some napkins as the cashier handed her a soft serve twist in a cone covered in rainbow sprinkles. She smiles politely, thanking them before licking a stripe up the side of the frozen treat. There’s something so sweet about the way her eyes light up, Aemond finds himself smiling as she licks her lips.

She turns to leave the line and his eye meets hers. It’s as though someone switches off the light behind her eyes completely.

Cold is the only way to describe the look she awards him, as her mouth falls into a straight line. Aemond only holds her gaze for a moment before she looks towards the ground and begins to quicken her pace. But Aemond is faster.

“Y/N,” he calls, blocking her path back up the stairs inside.

She sighs, avoiding his gaze, assessing whether or not she can squeeze around him.

“Move,” she tells him.

“You’re not answering my texts,” he says, confusion evident in his voice, “Or my calls.”

“Yeah,” she says, “Maybe you should take the hint.”

“I haven’t heard from you all week.”

“I’m trying to eat my ice cream Aemond,” she tells him, “What are you stalking me now?”

“Viewing an Instagram story is hardly a punishable offense,” he tells her.

“Just a reminder to block you later,” she tells him.

Aemond’s heart sinks at her words. There’s no playful banter in her tone, no note of excitement. She’s deadly serious.

“Goodbye,” she tells him, moving past him.

You’re losing her, he realizes. Do something.

“I didn’t mean it,” Aemond says suddenly, “Y/N, I didn’t mean what I-”

“You know what, Aemond?” she says, her gaze icy, “I don’t care what you meant or didn’t mean. I care about what you said.”

Aemond’s chest tightens at her words. She’s standing tall, the ice cream beginning to drip down the cone between her small fingers. She ignores it if she even notices, but Aemond’s eye follows the sticky river beginning to form. He gets a sudden urge to lick the mess from her hand and pull her towards him covering her in sticky kisses.

Seven hells. Stop it.

Aemond blinks as she turns away, before giving him one last lingering look.

“Will is waiting for me,” she tells him, and the ache in his chest grows.

“Will?” he asks, the one-syllable tasting like poison on his tongue.

“Yes, Will,” she says, annoyance in her tone, “People who like each other go on dates. They date each other. I know that must be a foreign concept to you.”

Aemond says nothing, just clenches his teeth so tightly together his jaw begins to ache.

“Maybe give Floris a ring or one of your other friends. I’m sure there’s someone convenient for you,” she says, turning and walking away.

Aemond lets her go, watching as she goes inside Seasnake Scoops, the door slamming shut behind her. The second time in his life he’s been left alone there.

READER POV

“You can’t do this!” Baela’s voice calls from the hallway, “You can’t make me!”

You quickly leap out of bed at the sound of your best friend’s distress, opening the door and flying down the stairs. After your run-in with Aemond, you’d returned to your room to sulk for the majority of the afternoon.

Baela stands below, arms crossed, tear tracks running down her cheeks. Rhaenys stands in front of her, hands folded, a stern expression on her face.

“Baela, it is one dinner-”

“It’s always one dinner,” Baela says, through her teeth, “One dinner, then another, then ‘we have to all go together Baela, as a family’,” she deepens her voice to the likeness of her father, “Like I want to go to that stupid gala and pretend everything is fucking fine!”

Rhaenys moved forward, taking Baela’s hands in her own.

“You’re angry,” she says to her softly, “You have every right to be. But don’t shut him out, dōna jorrāelagon (sweet love). Not when he’s finally trying.”

“For her,” Baela says, quietly, “He’s trying for her.”

“Rhaenyra is trying as well,” Rhaenys assures her, “You are not replacing your mother by letting her in.”

Baela yanks her hands away, angry tears spilling from her eyes. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“I can’t forgive him,” Baela insists, “I can’t do it. I can’t forgive her either.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Rhaenys says, “I’m asking you to try.”

“This is me trying,” Baela snarls, “Staying away, letting them play happy family! That is me trying!”

Rhaenys purses her lips.

“Laena would-”

“Don’t,” Baela warns, shaking her head, “Don’t you dare.”

Her voice has dropped to a whisper. Rhaenys sighs, looking toward the floor. The tension between grandmother and granddaughter could be cut with a knife. Rhaenys looks back at Baela, drinking in her angered expression.

“You’re so much like her,” Rhaenys muses softly, before reaching out and stroking her cheek, “Full of so much fire.”

“I’m not going,” Baela insists.

“You are,” Rhaenys says, “I’ll hear no more of it. You can go to the carnival after.”

“Y/N will be all alone!” Baela says, pointing at you.

Rhaenys gives you an unimpressed look, but you nod quickly. Anything to help your best friend.

Though Rhaenys doesn’t look like she buys it for one second.

“I’m sure Y/N will be fine for a couple of hours,” Rhaenys says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“She’s going to get lost,” Baela says, and you agree.

Rhaenys gives you a stern glance, one only a grandmother can deliver. Baela loops her arm through yours, holding her chin high. You crack first under Rhaenys glare.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay for a little bit,” you say quietly.

Rhaenys smiles at her success as Baela drops your arm with a groan. You give her an apologetic smile, knowing you’ve doomed her to another dinner with her father and stepmother.

You arrive at the carnival just as the sun goes down. It’s already crowded with people, the lights from all the rides making everyone glow with neon colors. The smell of fried food and the sound of laughter fills the air as you wade through the sea of people. You decided on a simple baby blue sundress, styling your hair off of your shoulders. It’s been so hot recently, you can’t stand the feeling of having your hair down.

You glance at your phone, though Helaena has yet to respond. You promised you’d meet her at the main ticket stand.

The minutes tick by and you’re still standing with a rope of red tickets when your phone buzzes letting you know that Helaena had fallen asleep after losing track of time. You sigh, checking your other messages. There’s one from Will asking to meet up later paired with an emoji of a Ferris wheel.

You want to smile, but your stomach turns instead. You can’t help but think of Aemond. Will is nice, very sweet, but it was evident after your ice cream date that you don’t have much in common. And there’s no spark.

When you told Baela, she’d raised an eyebrow at you.

“Spark?” she questioned.

“You know,” you tell her, talking with your hands as you tried to explain, “That feeling just, deep in your gut. Like being pulled to another person. Something that just feels…..right.”

That wasn’t there with Will. And you couldn’t fake a spark.

You sigh, tilting your head back and looking around, trying to determine what you should get to snack on while waiting for Helaena. A booth advertising fried Oreos piques your interest before a tall silver head catches your eye.

Something in your gut tightens with an intense need as you watch Aemond say something to Aegon. He’s wearing all black, as he often is. It’s as though Aemond is allergic to color. He hasn’t seen you yet, and you don’t know whether you hope he does or doesn’t.

You need to be firm, to hold the boundary you set with him. He doesn’t get to disrespect you like that. No matter how attracted to him you are. You may like Aemond- you may like fucking Aemond- but you love yourself more.

His head turns and you look away before meeting those violet and blue eyes. You don’t know how strong your resolve will be if he looks at you again.

“Having fun?” a voice calls, causing you to turn and meet the sapphire eyes of Floris Baratheon.

She looks gorgeous, though you can’t imagine a time when she doesn’t; clad in a skin-tight green dress with her dark curls pulled into a high ponytail. You force a smile as she walks closer, a concerned look in her cobalt eyes. Classic mean girl, Helaena had called her. She certainly looks the part but then again, all beautiful people do.

“Not really,” you admit, feeling your chest tighten.

“Me either,” she agrees, smiling softly, “Ellyn ditched me to hook up with Eddie Karstark behind the tilt-a-whirl. Can you believe?”

“That sucks,” you tell her. You hadn’t met Ellyn, but you’d seen her around the country club.

She gives you another small smile, following your gaze and landing on Aemond. Her smile drops as her lips form a tight line.

“Is he giving you the run around too?” she asks, looking back at you.

You can feel your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Something like that,” you admit, letting your eyes fall to your feet.

“I’m sorry,” Floris says, “Seriously. It fucking sucks.”

“It’s my own fault,” you tell her, “I made things messy.”

“Aemond makes things messy,” Floris insists, “I don’t think he can help it. He’s emotionally stunted.”

“I think you’re right,” you agree.

Floris grabs your hand.

“C’mon,” she says, tugging you along.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Funnel cake,” she says, leading you through different booths, “We need funnel cake and then we need to shoot something. Or throw darts. Or both.”

You giggle and nod in agreement, letting her pull you along.

After eating all the funnel cake your body can handle and playing several rounds of balloon darts (something Floris is scarily good at) you make your way toward the Ferris wheel. It’s huge, the largest attraction at the carnival, with roomy compartments holding small groups of people.

Floris stops in front of it, glancing at you nervously. The change in demeanor makes your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“What is it?” you ask.

Floris’s cheeks turn a bright pink as she sighs, wetting her lips.

“Have you….heard any rumors about Aemond and me?” she asks, “or Aemond and my sisters?”

No of course not, you think to yourself. Cause that would be crazy, an incestuous orgy of beautiful girls and the ethereal man who fucks like a god? No fucking way.

You’d tried very hard not to think about that.

“No,” you tell her, shaking your head, “What rumor?”

Floris seems unconvinced by your white lie.

“People are gross,” she says, cheeks still darkened with blush, “Look nothing happened. It’s just-” she sighs, “The Ferris wheel is a very romantic spot.”

“Okay,” you tell her.

She nervously chews her lower lip, batting her lashes up at the Ferris wheel.

“So Aemond invited me to ride with him last summer,” she says, shaking her head, “And he kissed me because guys do that when they take you on the Ferris wheel.”

A kiss. An innocent, sweet little kiss. That’s all it was. Your heart hammers in your chest thinking of Aemond asking Floris, the romantic gesture of it all.

“That’s really sweet,” you tell her, smiling.

“It was,” she agrees, “Until I found out he did the same thing with Cassandra, Ellyn, and Maris.”

Oh. Well, there it is.

“Well, I mean Maris didn’t end up kissing him,” Floris corrects herself, “But Cass and El did. And do you know what Aemond told me when I confronted him about it?”

You shake your head.

“He said I was the best kisser. And if I wanted to be friends with benefits for the summer, that would be cool,” she says, crossing her arms, “I was so naive. So fucking flattered that of course, I agreed. I mean, who says no when Aemond Targaryen says he wants to fuck you?”

She bites the tip of her tongue, as though reminiscing just what fucking Aemond entails before shaking her head.

“Aemond Targaryen holds his own private kissing contest, and now I’m stuck with the rumor I had an orgy with my sisters,” she groans, “Fucking perfect.”

Damn. You can’t help but feel bad for Floris. That’s a skeevy thing Aemond did. She’s looking up at the Ferris Wheel as though she wants to melt it with lasers shooting from her eyes. You’ve begun to like Floris over the course of this evening. She could’ve been rude to you, mean even. You were fucking her ex-situationship after all.

But instead, she’d seen you upset and spent the rest of the evening with you. It’s your turn to return the favor.

“Ferris wheel orgy,” you say, matter-of-factly, “If anyone believes that, they’re fucked in the head. Totally not enough room in those carriages for all that” You wave your arm around for emphasis.

Floris bursts out into a laugh, reaching to cover her mouth with her hand. You can’t help but laugh along with her. Floris Baratheon is a-okay in your book.

“It’s fucking ridiculous,” she says snickering, “Guys will believe anything.”

“They’ve got holes in their brains,” you assure her.

Floris continues to laugh, shaking her head and wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. It feels good to laugh with her and forget about the drama surrounding you for a moment.

“For sure,” she agrees, “Ugh. Do you want to go on? I promise no kissing, and no orgies.”

You laugh again at her joke.

“Sure,” you tell her with a smile.

You walk up to the operator of the Ferris wheel and hand him your last two tickets. Everyone has exited the Ferris wheel, so you get in the first compartment. You move forward scooting onto one of the benches as Floris digs in her purse.

“Shit, I’m out!” she says with a groan, “I’ll go grab more, be right back!”

She flies down the stairs, hurrying over to the ticket booth. You glance at the conductor, knowing you must be holding up the line.

“Do you mind waiting?” you ask.

The twenty-something-year-old looks as if he’d rather be diving headfirst off a cliff than operating this ride, but he sighs dramatically and nods at your request. You clasp your hands in your lap when someone else enters the compartment and sits in the seat across from you.

Aemond.

“Out,” you tell him, frowning, “Seriously, Aemond I thought I was clear.”

“We need to talk,” Aemond insists.

“We talked at Scoops, I have nothing left to say to you,” you insist, before changing your mind, “You know what? Actually, I do. Kissing Floris and her sisters? Really?”

You swear Aemond’s cheeks flush, and he glances away momentarily, before reaching out and snapping toward the attendant.

“$50 to send us up now,” he tells him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a fifty-dollar bill.

Your eyes widen.

“Aem-”

“And $50 more to stop us at the top. Fifteen minutes, tops,” Aemond finishes, adding another fifty between his slender fingers.

The attendant’s eyes bug out of his head as he takes the money, shutting the door of the carriage.

“No!” you say, watching the attendant return to the podium, “No! Dude, what about my friend? We have to wait for her!” Your voice is several pitches higher than you like, but it's due to being alone with Aemond.

The attendant raises an eyebrow at you.

“Got fifty bucks?” he asks.

Your eyebrows lift in shock.

“No!” you squeak, panic bubbling in your throat.

The attendant shrugs, throwing the handle forward making the Ferris wheel begin to move. Your jaw drops as you slowly begin to ascend and watch in horror as Floris returns, her expression mirrors yours as she notices Aemond in the carriage with you. You clutch the edge of the compartment, leaning over the edge as you start moving farther from the ground.

“Asshole!” you yell down to the attendant before sinking into your seat and crossing your arms and legs.

Aemond sits silently, though you know he must be gleeful about getting you alone. The compartments below you are empty, you’ve been sent up alone.

“Y/N,” he says, but you don’t look at him.

You just look over the side of the carriage at the rest of the carnival as everything begins to grow smaller and smaller. You can see the country club, the golf courses, the tents being set up for the gala. The lights from Driftmark and Dragonstone are even visible in the distance.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

That gets your attention. You whip your head towards him, watching him leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. You still don’t speak. Too angry, too hurt, too humiliated to say anything. Your brows are knit together, lips pressed into a tight line. No tears tonight, you cried enough over him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I never should have spoken to you that way, or said those horrible things. It was disgusting and inexcusable.”

Aemond wets his lips. The Ferris wheel comes to a stop as you reach the top, the compartment swinging gently with the force of the brakes. You uncross your arms, steadying yourself.

“I haven’t been that vulnerable with anyone in a long time,” he admits, “That’s not an excuse, believe me, that doesn’t excuse what I said, but I-” he runs a hand through his hair, struggling to find the words, “You were right.”

You want to remain silent as that violet eye watches you. Surely you can sit for fifteen minutes of silence. You cross your arms once more, trying to remain strong.

“About what?” you ask, cursing yourself.

The corner of Aemond’s mouth twitches, and something tugs in your chest as it does. You dig your nails into your bicep, trying to ground yourself. If you look at him too long, you’re afraid you’ll float away.

“About you growing on me,” he says softly.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You don’t know when this started, really. But since the hot tub something changed. Something inside you clicked, and suddenly you can’t look at Aemond Targaryen without wanting to kiss him.

“I don’t like…feeling out of control,” he admits, lacing his fingers together, “And you make me feel…fucking crazy.”

You want to believe him. You do. But Floris is on the ground below, and she was in the same position you were. Believed Aemond cared about her. As Aemond’s walls begin to let some light in, you can feel your own going up.

“How am I supposed to believe that?” you tell him, arms still crossed, “You said it yourself, you fuck, you talk like that, but you don’t get feelings. It’s one of your rules.”

“I’m figuring out none of those rules apply to you,” he says, observing you carefully.

You shake your head.

“I don’t think I believe you,” you tell him, “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“I haven’t been the best person,” Aemond admits, “I’ve hurt people because I was hurting. I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

His fingers are laced together and he braces his forehead on his clasped hands.

“I can’t,” you tell him softly, “Aemond I can’t.”

You don’t want to get hurt. Don’t want him to hurt you more than he already has. If you let him in deeper, it’s going to be so much more painful than it already has been. Aemond looks up, resting his chin on his hands. His gaze is soft, and a breeze rolls through causing you to shiver.

“Let me show you,” he says softly, “Please. What can I do? I’ll do anything.”

Aemond’s hands are outspread, a pleading gesture. How could he prove himself? If he really wants to change, for the better.

“Apologize to Floris,” you say suddenly, “She deserves it. All her sisters do.”

“Done,” Aemond answers immediately.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “I don’t know if I want to do this with you anymore.”

“Let me show you how sorry I am,” he says, kneeling forward on the floor; the compartment shakes with the movement.

Your cheeks flush when you realize what he intends to do.

“Aemond-” you say as his hands brush over your thighs, pushing your dress up.

You look over the side of the compartment, eyes wide. You’re all the way at the top, looking over everyone else. No one can see, and yet you’re dangerously exposed at the top of the Ferris wheel. Adrenaline courses through your veins, and your heart beats wildly in your chest as Aemond’s fingers curl along your panties.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he murmurs, dragging the fabric down. You lift your hips to assist him.

It’s almost unconscious, the way your body reacts to him. He plays your body like an instrument; every touch has you melting into him, bending to his wishes. Aemond removes your panties, placing them in his pocket for safekeeping. His violet eye watches you, waiting for what you say next. You bite your lip in desperation, trying to ignore the feeling of his hand under your ass, keeping your center propped off the seat.

He holds you with ease, letting his other hand slip under your opposite thigh. It’s driving you crazy. He’s driving you crazy.

“Y/N,” he says, voice a desperate whine, like it’s taking everything in him not to bury his face in your pussy.

You’re already wet, you can feel it. There’s no use, you can’t ignore the feeling in your chest, the desperate ache between your legs. You want him, you need him so bad you feel like you might go insane without his lips on you.

“Please,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it, “Please Y/N.” You can feel his hands trembling against you, as though he’s ready to snap.

“Yes,” you tell him, and with a desperate growl, he dips his head below your skirt.

His mouth glues itself to your dripping slit, tongue diving between your folds as you bury your hands in his hair. You sling your legs over his shoulders, desperate to push him deeper, and harder against you, especially as his tongue moves to circle your entrance.

“Fuck,” you mewl as the warm, wet muscle dips inside of you, and Aemond moans-fucking moans-as he moves it in and out.

Your heels are digging into his toned shoulders, nails raking against his scalp but if it pains him, Aemond doesn’t let it show in the slightest. He’s simply devouring you, groaning with every shudder and stifled moan you award him. With every movement of his head, his nose rubs pleasantly against your clit, sending waves of pleasurable warmth coursing throughout your body.

Aemond pulls away suddenly, his mouth shining with your arousal, as he brings his fingers to his mouth and begins sucking on them. He meets your eyes before dipping his head down again between your thighs, fingers replacing his tongue and stretching into you. He curves them upwards against your tender, spongy walls, and your spine arches off of the seat, mouth falling open in pleasure.

“Fucking missed this pussy,” he groans, lazily fingering you before bringing his mouth to the apex of your thighs.

His tongue swirls around your needy clit and you can feel your stomach tightening.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on top of your clit before swirling his tongue around it once more.

“That’s not fair,” you answer, breathlessly, “Oh my fucking-oh.”

You can feel Aemond’s smile against you, feel him flatten his tongue on your clit before rubbing steady circles with the warm muscle of his tongue. He strokes your sweet spoke with his fingers effortlessly, your legs trembling on his shoulders.

“Please,” he says with a groan, “Please, I can’t fucking stand it-”

“Oh!” your nails dig into his scalp as you clench around his fingers, your release barrelling through you.

Aemond slowly removes his fingers, pressing them between his lips and licking them clean before you grab him by the shirt collar pulling him towards you. Your mouth is on his in an instant and it feels like fireworks have gone off in your brain.

He kisses you ferociously, one hand grabbing the back of your neck and anchoring you against him; the other wraps around your waist, pulling you off the seat and holding you flush against him. Your legs are straddling him and you can feel how hard he is underneath you. You’re kissing him desperately, it's all clashing teeth and gasps as you press yourself against him harder. You can’t be close enough, can’t be held tight enough. It's not enough, not enough.

The Ferris wheel begins to move, slowly but surely beginning its descent and you pull away, gasping for breath. You’re both breathing heavily, so close you can feel the brush of his lips against yours with every exhale.

“I can’t stand it,” he whispers, voice breaking as he strokes the back of your head.

“I know,” you whisper back, kissing him softly.

You untangle yourselves from each other as the Ferris wheel comes to a stop, pushing yourself back onto the seat to avoid suspicion. Thankfully, your dress is long enough because there was no time to put your panties back on and you’d rather not have your bare ass on the seat of the Ferris wheel.

The attendant opens the door, none the wiser to what you and Aemond were up to in the middle of the air.

You exit the compartment on shaky legs, turning back to Aemond.

“Forgive me?” he asks, watching you.

“I’ll think about it,” you tell him, walking down to Floris, who is now holding a half-eaten fried Twinkie.

“Dude, that took forever,” she tells you, “What did you even talk about-”

“Floris,” Aemond calls, walking over.

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, cheeks darkening as he approaches. But Floris Baratheon doesn’t back down. No matter how she feels about Aemond, she squares her shoulders and looks him directly in the eye.

“I owe you an apology,” Aemond begins, “For everything.”

Her chin tilts higher in the air.

“I was cruel to you when I shouldn’t have been,” he continues, “And I should have shut down those rumors when I heard them. I shouldn’t have treated you or your sisters that way in the first place and I’ll be telling them that as well.”

“Well Maris is in Oldtown,” Floris says cooly, “She stayed for the summer to do research.”

“Next semester then,” Aemond agrees.

Floris looks him up and down.

“Thank you,” she says and Aemond nods.

Her phone buzzes in her chest and she hands you her twinkie as she reaches between her boobs to grab it. She frowns.

“El needs rescuing,” she says, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” you assure her, “I’m good, really.”

“I had fun tonight,” she tells you, “Let’s hang out again.”

“We could always use more help on Seasmoke,” you tell her.

“Cool, later Y/N,” she says, “Bye Aemond.”

As Floris leaves you turn to begin walking as well. Baela should be here by now and hopefully, Helaena has found her way down here. Aemond grabs your hand, stopping you.

“You won’t forgive me?” he asks.

“I said I’d think about it,” you tell him, still being cautious.

“Y/N-”

“Look, there’s something here,” you tell him, “Definitely, but…” I’m scared.

You can’t finish the sentence but you read it in his eye too.

“Go with me,” he says suddenly, “To the gala and the auction.”

“What?”

“As my date,” he says, “Be my date.”

“You don’t date.”

“I do now,” he argues, his voice insistent, “I date….I want to date you.”

He steps closer, taking your other hand. There’s that feeling again. Deep in your gut, pulling you toward him. A fire ignited within you, sparked by his touch.

“Come with me,” he says softly, “Please.”

You stretch up onto your tiptoes capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s the only answer you can give right now, but the only answer he needs.

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