#if you enjoy my writing

[meguwumibear]

Can you write an nsfw for Togame coaching his s/o on giving him head for the first time?

"Atta girl. Just like that," Togame moans, carding his fingers gently through your hair. "Yeah, use your tongue for me. Get it nice and wet."

You do as you're told, sticking out your tongue to slowly lick down the underside of his veiny cock. Togame's legs shake at the sensation, already overwhelmed despite the fact you've only just gotten your mouth on him.

"Balls too," he instructs, mindful of his grip on you. It's meant to be coaching, coaxing, not punishing.

He holds his cock upright while you lave along his sack, taking his left nut into your mouth without another word from him. You experimentally swirl the ball around in your mouth, and he groans in encouragement. It might be your first time sucking dick, but damn you're a fucking natural.

"That's it, sweetheart," he coos, languidly stroking himself as you graduate from his left nut to the right, giving the appendage the same treatment as its counterpart. "Fuck, you're so good to me."

Emboldened by his words, you sink lower, licking a firm stripe down his taint, groaning against him as you savor the taste of his musk. Your nose rubs deliciously against his sack as you suck on his taint, and Togame has to squeeze the base of his cock to prevent himself from busting on the spot like some two pump chump.

"C'mere," he pants, tugging you away from his taint back towards his leaking tip. "Need you to wrap those pretty little lips of yours around my cock again, yeah? Hollow your cheeks as you suck it for me. Atta girl, fuck."

It takes every ounce of his willpower not to buck into your warm, wet mouth as you resume your suckling. His dick is a lot for your untrained throat to handle. You won't be able to take all of him tonight which is a shame because the image of your precious tear stained face pressed against his dark pubic hair nearly sends him spiraling over the edge again. He takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. In and out. In and out.

"Use your hand to fist what you can't fit in your mouth," the words are meant to sound instructional but come out like a plea instead.

It takes a few tries for you to find your rhythm, to pump his cock in time with your sucking, but once you do it's over for Togame. He feels the tell-tale signs of his orgasm encroaching on him, one shiver and shudder at a time.

"Baby," he warns, pulling at your hair, "I'm gonna-"

You push yourself even further down his length, choking around his cock as he cums violently down your throat. His cum is sticky and thick but not unpleasant. There's a salty aftertaste that he licks out of your mouth with deep sloppy kisses.

"Alright," he slurs into your mouth as his fingers travel down the length of your navel. "Your turn."

[buggachat]

something so fucked up about Chat Noir’s whole deal is that he is in a lot of ways Adrien playing a character. Like Adrien picked up his miraculous and was told he’d be a superhero so he was like “ok, time to act like a superhero!” and he lets himself have fun w it and play up the role and let loose and kind of just allow himself to be silly and goofy and have fun and for once in his life not care about performing Perfection™.

But. But none of the other characters KNOW THAT. So everyone just sees Chat Noir and is like “look at this guy’s ego. He’s so full of himself. Surely it’d be fair to knock him down a few pegs” without being aware of how few pegs he actually HAS. He’s like the “insecure character who overcompensates in ego” trope except he’s really not doing it unironically, he’s just having a fun LARP pretending to have self worth in his off-hours but nobody else is on the same page about it being a game and he refuses to tell them. He just dramatically pouts about it and lets them laugh and pretends like he’s not internalizing it and it is almost 3 am and my brain forced me to write this instead of sleeping I’m gonna take a melatonin

[samaraxmorgan]

Your roommate Sukuna can’t stop staring at your lips. It’s not his fault, he’s never seen you wear lipstick before and now all of a sudden you have this glossy red sheen drawing his eyes to you.

He caught you leaning towards the mirror, mouth open in a small oh as you slowly glided the red gloss over your plush lips, and he just about froze in his tracks. Your eyes lazily half lidded as you focused all your attention onto getting perfectly straight lines, completely zoned in and not even noticing him behind you watching your reflection in awe. And god help him when you smacked your lips together, tacky tinted gloss stringing your top and bottom lips together for hardly a second before snapping away.

And now you’re sitting across from him on the couch, nonchalantly picking at your nails while you tell him… what were you telling him about again? It’s hard to focus when the only thing on his mind is how pretty you look in red. You pucker your lips and push them up underneath your nose, and when you offhandedly mention your lipgloss smelling like cherries he fears he might just faint.

Does it taste like cherries too? Sukuna wants nothing more than to glide his tongue over your lips and find out. To feel your lips stick to his own when he presses them into you, leaving a tacky cherry residue for him to swipe his tongue over. For you to leave a sticky red tinted trail from his mouth to his tattooed jaw. To have that pretty gloss that you carefully perfected end up smudged on the corners of your mouth, swollen red lips wrapped around his-

“Sukuna! You’re not even listening are you?”

He blinks in surprise, his eyes shooting up to meet your narrowed ones, “Huh?”

“I’ll be at work so you’ll need to let the guys in to fix the water heater,” You lean forward and annunciate each syllable with a gentle smack to his chest, “Don’t! For-get! I’m so sick of taking cold showers.”

A cold shower seems to be exactly what Sukuna needs right now.

Your Roommate Sukuna series masterlist here!!

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!! Divider by @adornedwithlight

[kentopedia]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

[aegonstradwife]

exposure therapy | aemond targaryen x reader

summary: anonymous requested; you and aemond were recently married. you're afraid of him, but aemond goes to great lengths to show you he's not that scary.

warnings: excessive use of ellipses, #1 wife lover aemond targaryen, brief mention of childhood trauma, smut. (fingering, face riding, oral.)

a. note:link to the original request.

As Aemond's new wife, it's surprising how little time you spend together. The servants whisper about it around every corner; how you skulk through the halls hoping to avoid him, how nearly every meal you take is apart from each other.

But there's a very good reason for this, one that you've never admitted to anyone.

You are terrified of him.

Even at night, you might share the same bed, but it's big enough that you can sleep soundly without ever once touching him. Although even that was difficult at first; those first few nights you dreaded climbing into bed with him and got nearly no sleep at all.

He is so much bigger, and much stronger, than you. He really could do anything he wanted to you and you would have no chance of fighting him off.

Eventually, however, Aemond's still body beside yours throughout the night, you realized he either wouldn't, or didn't want to, touch you. And finally you were able to get some sleep.

But now, though sleep comes much more easily and your nights are no longer fraught with peril at the thought of him forcing himself upon you, it still doesn't mean you have any desire to be around him.

And you thought he felt much the same. Until tonight.

Aemond is already comfortable on the settee by the window, reading, when you retire to your shared bedchamber for the night.

Hells bent as usual on ignoring him, you busy yourself with removing your shoes in front of the wardrobe.

"Come. Sit with me."

In the quiet of the room, Aemond's sudden, uncharacteristic, voice makes you jump, going very still. His tone is soft; now that you think on it, you've heard Aemond's voice very few times, either before or after you were married.

In your mind, the few times you had heard him speak, you remember him sounding like a complete barbarian. Not this lilting, almost melodic, softness....

Straightening, you nervously smooth the skirts of your dress down over your thighs. Aemond's silhouette is stark against the candles guttering on the windowsill.

You gulp, starting to tiptoe toward him, but stopping at the opposite arm of the settee. "Do I have to?" You ask quietly, and even that takes every ounce of courage in your weary body.

This is probably as close as you've ever been to him when not in bed together at night.

"I won’t bite." Aemond's lips are quirked in a half smirk. He closes the book in his hands and sets it aside, patting the space beside him. "I assure you, I won’t hurt you. Come. Sit."

Though he had indicated the middle cushion, you sweep your skirts under you and take a seat on the one beside it, furthest from Aemond.

Normally you would have loved sitting and reading by candlelight, the cool breeze from the open windows ruffling your hair.

But now you bite your lip, heart hammering hard against your ribcage like a frightened bird.

Aemond can feel the tension radiating off of you. Your shoulders tight as a bow string, the muscles in your jaw taut, hands folded in your lap fidgeting with a loose thread on your gown.

He simple looks at you for a very long moment. Your features are delicate, almost fragile, your frame small and dainty when compared to his. To Aemond, you look very much like a porcelain doll. He has no idea how someone could be so beautiful and yet so…. breakable.

You glance nervously at him, wondering what he could possibly be thinking.

"What?" You ask, though you keep your voice low, not wanting to anger him.

"You're afraid of me," Aemond states bluntly. He leans against the back of the settee, studying you with one intense purple eye. "Why?"

You laugh aloud, unable to stop yourself. Now seems as good a time as any to tell him exactly what you've been thinking since your wedding day.

"Look at you. And look at me. You could do whatever you want to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you. Not to mention...." You shrug. "The stories about you aren't kind...."

Aemond raises an eyebrow at your laughter, that same small, wry smile never leaving his lips. He can't help but wonder if you're mocking him as he leans forward, gaze still locked with yours.

"And what do the stories say about me, little wife?" His voice is low, a dangerous, frightening edge to it.

For seemingly the first time, you look your husband in the eye. One piercing violet eye stares back, the other covered by his customary eyepatch. "They say you're a fearsome warrior, one of the strongest swordsmen alive. And they say.... they say you killed that boy. Rhaenyra's son...."

Aemond’s eye narrows. There is so much uncertainty in that gaze of yours, something about your innocent face makes Aemond feel.... bad. His jaw clenches and he leans back.

"Lucerys Velaryon. Yes, I did kill him. Though I didn't mean to.... I lost control."

"You didn't?" Your eyes narrow as well, suspicious of him. "Then.... what did you mean to do?"

Your husband lets out a long sigh and crosses his arms. "I meant to scare him. I was.... angry. I wanted to teach him a lesson, to frighten and humiliate him. And I did not have such good control over Vhagar as I do now...."

At the mention of his dragon, you perk up - that's one thing you've always been curious about. The Targaryen dragons are so beautiful and powerful; you would love to ride one one day, if given the chance.

"So your dragon, she disobeyed you?"

Aemond is clearly taken aback by your interest in Vhagar. For a moment, it seemed you forgot you were supposed to be scared of him. He tries to hide the hint of surprise flickering across his face.

"Well, yes and no," Aemond says, diplomatic. "Vhagar is a very old and powerful dragon, and she is used to doing what she wants. Sometimes.... it's difficult for any Targaryen to control a dragon, even the strongest of riders."

You are positively fascinated, hearing about Vhagar, leaning in toward Aemond without realizing. "What is it like, riding her? Does it ever get cold, so high up?"

Aemond can smell your perfume as you lean toward him, a mix of jasmine and honey, faint yet sweet. He clears his throat.

"Riding Vhagar is like nothing else," he tells you. "And yes, it does get cold at times, but the feeling of the wind in your hair and the power of the dragon beneath you is.... indescribable."

"Do you think she'd let me ride her?" At this point, you're nearly nose to nose with Aemond, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Or do they only let Targaryens?"

Aemond freezes, gaze still locked with yours, your heads so close together that he can feel your breath ghost across his lips. He is surprised by your question and even more surprised by how badly he wants to fulfill the request.

"They only let Targaryens ride them, yes," he says, voice sounding much huskier than he intends. "But.... I'm sure Vhagar wouldn't mind letting someone else ride her.... if I were to accompany them."

"Would you?" You reach out, hand finding his thigh and giving a thankful squeeze. Realizing what you've done, how close you've become to him, you quickly snatch that hand back as though Aemond is on fire. "I'm so sorry...."

Aemond’s eye widens; for a heartbeat, your touch sent a shock through his entire body.

"It's alright." His voice is rough. “Don’t apologize....” He catches your wrist gently, before you can pull your hand away completely. "It was.... nice."

You tense, wrist caught in his strong embrace. "What are you doing?"

For a long moment, Aemond doesn't respond, simply staring at your slender wrist in his hand. Your skin is so smooth, so soft. He can feel your pulse beating against his palm, fast and fluttering like the wings of a small bird.

"Doing?" He finally asks, looking up at you with a sly smile. "Just.... holding your hand, that’s all."

"Holding my.... oh." All things considered, Aemond is handsome, you suppose. With his long silver hair, that chiseled jaw, the little moue of his lips. "You.... you really aren't all that scary, are you?"

Chuckling softly, Aemond's fingers gently stroke the skin of your wrist. Your words, spoken almost as a question, take him by surprise.

"I'm not trying to scare you," he says, his voice low and slightly amused. "And I don’t want to be scary, to you. Can I be honest with you, little wife?"

You nod, letting him continue to stroke that sensitive bit of skin around your wrist. He is very gentle, which has taken you by surprise.

"The truth is," he mutters, "I don't like it when you're scared of me. I don't like the way you look at me, as if you think I'm going to pounce on you and tear you apart at any moment. That's not what I want."

Slowly, still wary of him, you curl your fingers around his thumb and Aemond's breath hitches. Your hand is small compared to his; Aemond's fingers look massive beside yours.

"Everyone else seems so frightened of you. I thought.... I should be as well. I didn't know, that you hadn't meant to kill that boy. Have you told anyone else that?"

“No,” he says after a moment. “No one else knows. I haven't told anyone.”

He pauses, looking down at your hand in his. His other hand comes to trap your fingers inside of his palms, his thumbs tracing back and forth over your skin. “You’re the first I've shared this with.”

"You should tell others, that way no one will be scared of you."

Aemond lets out a soft chuckle, his gaze still fixed on your fingers intertwined with his own.

“I quite like others being afraid of me,” he admits. The smile on his face fades, just a bit, in the flickering candlelight. “But not you.”

"Not me?" You query, a sweet blush rising high on your cheeks. "Why not me?"

Aemond’s eye is drawn to that color blooming across your cheeks, the innocent flush sending a strange feeling coursing through him. He continues to stroke your wrist in a gentle, almost reverent, way.

"A wife should not be afraid of her husband," he says finally, his voice soft. "She should be worshipped by him....”

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings your wrist to his lips and places a gentle kiss there.

You lick your lips, nervous as all seven hells with the way things are going. Not only are you still afraid of Aemond - though growing less so by the moment - you have also never been close like this with anyone else before.

"And why.... why is it so important for other people to be afraid of you?"

Aemond’s lips linger over your skin, the faintest ghost of a smile there. He can feel the way your hand trembles slightly in his, the nervous flutter of your pulse against his fingertips. But he also notices how you don’t draw back, how you sit still and allow him to hold you.

“It's.... payback, almost,” he confesses. “For the torment I suffered as a child. It is better to be feared than loved - no one will ever again treat me the way they did when I was young.”

You are not aware of any torment in Aemond's childhood, though that isn't saying much. Of course the Targaryens keep much of what goes on between them a secret. Even now that you're married, you're hardly privy to all - or even most - of their secrets.

"Is that.... how this happened?" Shaking ever so slightly, you raise a hand to Aemond's face, fingers stroking the strap of his eyepatch.

As your slender fingers brushed against the edge of it, Aemond tenses, every muscle in his body going taut. No one has ever touched him there before, and it's an unfamiliar intimacy.

He closes his eye for a moment, trying to control his reaction, before speaking. “Yes,” he says, his voice thick with emotions he finds difficult to name. “That's how this happened.”

You feel for Aemond; having to grow up that way must have been torture.

Pulling your hand gently from his grasp, you bring both up to hook beneath the rough leather strap. "May I?"

His breathing hitches as your hands tug gently at the straps of his eyepatch. He knows your touch is innocent.... but no one has ever dared to remove it for him before. He nods once, his voice low.

“You may.”

With fierce concentration and a desire not to ruin his perfect hair, you slide the eyepatch up and off, gasping at the gorgeous sapphire glimmering where his eye should be.

"Gods, it's beautiful, Aemond." Letting the patch rest in your lap, you run your fingers lightly over the scar tissue below Aemond's eye. "Who did this to you?"

Aemond's breath hitches again, rougher this time, as he feels the tips of your slender fingers graze the scarred tissue around his eye, the touch stirring something deep within him. The feeling of your touch against the sensitive skin there is almost overwhelming.

He swallows hard, that old pain and anger bubbling up inside of him.

"My.... nephew," he finally says, his voice surprisingly even. "Lucerys Velaryon."

You inhale sharply; all you can think of is that if Aemond had really meant to kill the boy, he would have been well within his right to, after having been mutilated like this.

Grabbing for his hands, you hurry to say something. "Aemond, I-"

But your husband cuts you off. "There is one other reason it's important for others to be afraid of me."

"A-And what is that?" You ask, holding his hands close to your bosom.

"So that I can protect my wife, and my family." That sapphire is positively glowing in the light of the flickering candles. "The more afraid people are of me, the less likely they are to try and harm me, or you, or our family.... once we make one...."

His declaration takes all the air from your lungs, and you find it hard to breathe. "If I had known all of this, I.... I would never have been so frightened of you. I'm sorry, Aemond."

You cast around desperately for something else to say, some other way to apologize.

"Do not apologize."

His voice is gentle, yet firm. Your hands are still holding his against your breast, and he can feel the warmth of your skin even through the layers of your gown, the rapid beat of your heart.

"You didn't know, it is not your fault for being afraid," he soothes you. "But.... now that you know.... may I ask you something else?"

You nod, eager now to answer Aemond's questions and to ask more of your own - you want to learn so much more about him.

Aemond's fingers tighten around yours, the feel of your soft skin against his own sending a strange heat through his veins. He draws you in a little closer, his face now so close to yours that he can feel the warmth of your breath, that same scent of sweet honey and jasmine in your hair.

"You.... have not shied away from my scar, or my missing eye," he says, his voice a low whisper. "You have touched them, caressed them even.... why?"

Why...? You find it odd he even has to ask.

"Because I think they make you beautiful. Is that wrong?"

Your thumbs find his wrists now, pressing in against his pulse points, which are fluttering erratically.

Aemond's breath catches in his throat, the feeling of your dainty thumbs resting against his wrists, feeling the rapid beating of his pulse, setting his skin on fire. Your words, declaring him beautiful, ring in his ears, stirring something deep within his chest.

"Be-Beautiful?" He repeats, his voice a terrible croak. No one.... no one has ever called him beautiful. The word sounds strange in his ears, as if they're not meant for someone like him.

You nod, and after only a momentary hesitation, you bring one hand up again to his scar. This time, brushing the side closest to his hairline, a few strands of long silver hair getting in the way.

"Beautiful, Aemond. You're beautiful. I mean.... I did always think that. Just.... was too afraid of you to tell you. Do you forgive me?"

Aemond's breath hitches once more as your fingers stroke his hair, your soft touch sending a shiver down his spine. No one, no one, has ever touched his scar with such tenderness, such care.

"I.... I forgive you," he whispers, voice raw. "And for what it's worth.... I'm sorry, that I.... that I made you afraid of me. I never wanted that, I swear."

"I know. It wasn't even your fault, really." You roll your eyes, relaxing against the back of the settee. "I was just.... assuming that what everyone else said was true. Which is a terrible thing, really. My parents raised me much better than that."

A particularly chilly gust of wind blows in through the window and you wrap your arms around yourself. "I have to admit, I thought if my shenanigans went on much longer, you'd be forced to.... well, force yourself on me...."

Aemond is silent, as if that thought, the notion of forcing himself on you, is something he refuses to even consider. He turns to look at you, the pale glow of his sapphire eye giving him an otherworldly appearance.

"I.... I would never force you to do anything, little wife, not ever," he says, his voice low and serious. "I believe the first time a man and wife.... are together.... it should be.... enjoyable.... for both of them."

Suddenly, all words are caught in your throat. The thought of your first time with Aemond still makes you nervous, even knowing that he would never want to do anything against your will.

"I thought.... a woman's first time was always painful?" That's what you've always been told. You have never done anything of the sort, but perhaps Aemond knows better.

At your words, Aemond's jaw tightens. His fingers clench into a fist, the thought of you in pain during your first time together sending a wave of anger through him.

"No. No, never. It shouldn't be painful, not unless you don't want it, too," he says, his voice low and urgent. "Your first time should be.... enjoyable. Pleasant. I would never take you simply for my own pleasure. I would make sure you...." he falters.

Flinching slightly away from him at the sight of his hand in a fist, you gasp softly. Have you said something wrong?

Still, you dare to ask, "You would make sure I what?"

In the candlelight, Aemond's eye flashes dangerously and that sapphire blazes.

He takes a very deep breath, forcing himself to relax, to open his hand again. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I.... I don't like the idea of hurting you, it.... makes me angry."

He looks down at you again.

"I would make sure that you.... felt pleasure as well. It wouldn't be about me. It's about both of us."

If you had known how protective Aemond was of you, you would have asked him about these things sooner. He is, after all, the only person you can think to ask. If you can't discuss bedroom matters with your husband, who can you discuss them with?

"How does it feel?" You ask him softly, scooting closer to him on the settee. "When you have sex, how does it feel?"

Aemond is taken somewhat off guard by the sudden question, his cheeks going pink at your unexpected candor, but he doesn't back down. He doesn't want to shy away from your questions, not when you're so close to him, peering at him through those wide, innocent eyes.

He takes another deep breath, shifting on the settee so he can face you fully.

"it.... it feels.... good," he begins, his voice a low rumble. "It feels.... full. Warm. Tight. But.... good. More than good, especially when you do it with someone you care about. It feels safe, like nothing can hurt you ever again."

The look on Aemond's face as he speaks is one you've never seen before - something vulnerable and almost childlike staring back at you. You wonder how you could ever have been afraid of him.

"And you? Who was your first time with?"

As your question hangs in the air between the two of you, Aemond goes stock-still. No one has ever asked him that before.

He hesitates for a moment, peering warily at you. "Why.... why do you want to know?" He asks finally, voice cautious.

Now you know you've definitely said something wrong. "I was just curious," you hurry to tell him. "It's wrong of me to pry, I'm sorry...."

Aemond sighs softly, shaking his head. "No, no, don't apologize," he says, his voice a light simper now. He reaches out, taking your hand gently in his.

"It's okay, I just.... wasn't expecting you to ask that." He pauses, and you can see a flicker of something run across his face. "You.... you really want to know?"

"I do," you admit bashfully. "If you feel comfortable telling me?"

Aemond's hand grips yours a little tighter, your words sending a strange, tight feeling through hm. He hasn't thought about that night in a long time, and the memory is still painful enough to make him wince.

"All right," he says, letting out a slow breath. "I.... I'll tell you. Just.... just don't.... don't judge me, all right?"

"I won't judge," you assure him with a shake of your head.

Aemond looks down at your intertwined hands, his fingers tracing a light pattern against your palm. He closes his eye, gathering his thoughts, before lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a barely-there kiss to your knuckles.

"My.... my first time," he begins, and his voice is rough, "was with a whore, in a pleasure house, at the behest of my brother who frequented - and still frequents - them much more than I did."

"I don't think that's anything to be ashamed of," you admit, mulling the idea over. "Most men visit those types of places at some point in their lives.... don't they?"

Aemond pauses for a moment, his eye locking with yours. He looks almost surprised by your response, as if he hadn't thought you would be so blasé about the situation.

"Yes...." he says slowly, "they do. But.... it's not.... it's not the sort of thing a wife would expect to hear, about their husband's past exploits."

You chew your lip thoughtfully, running your fingers around and through the spaces between Aemond's. "I don't mind, as long as...."

You hesitate, wondering if you really want to say this now or leave it for another night. "What I mean to say, Aemond, is that.... now that we understand each other better.... perhaps you can show me what it's like? Sex? And, if you do, I expect there to be no more pleasure houses in your future, is that clear?"

Aemond's gaze darkens as your words register, his heart stuttering in his chest. His fingers twitch against yours, breath catching in his throat.

"You.... you want me to show you...?" He repeats weakly, his eye wide and disbelieving.

You close your fingers tightly around Aemond's now, leaning in toward your husband. "Mm. But as I said, you must promise - no more pleasure houses. After all, you did say you want to worship me, did you not?"

Aemond's head swims with your words, his heart hammering in his chest so hard it's difficult to catch his breath. The way you're looking at him, the sweetness in your voice, the scent of honey and jasmine in your hair.... all of it is almost too much to bear.

He swallows hard, and nods. "No more pleasure houses. I promise," he whispers, his voice hoarse and rough.

His oath sets you at ease, but there's one more thing you must tell him.

"I must admit, Aemond, I'm still scared...."

He looks about to interrupt, but you cut him off. "Oh, not of you. I'm.... terrified of the pain. I've never done well with pain, and I'm so scared it's going to hurt like hell."

Aemond's heart twists at the worry and fear in your voice, his fingers tightening over yours. He hates the thought of you being scared, hates his own inability to take that fear away from you.

"Why do you still think it's going to be painful?" He asks quietly.

Instead of making you feel trapped, his fingers around yours make you feel safe. Aemond is lethal; you can see it in his face, in the hard line of his body. But he wants to use all of that to protect you....

Though what could he possibly do to prevent his own body from hurting you, even though he might not mean to?

"That's all I've ever been told." You gulp. "A woman's first time is always painful. And.... There's always blood."

Aemond's jaw clenches in anger. He doesn't know who planted these false, hurtful notions in your head, but he wants to tear them limb from limb.

He reaches out to you, tilting your head gently up to meet his gaze. "No. No, no, no," he says, his voice low and intense. "It's not supposed to be painful, especially the first time. You've just.... you've been told wrong."

He pauses. "Sometimes there is blood, I won't lie to you about that. But there are ways to minimize the chance of that."

Aemond's fingers start to skirt back and forth under your chin. "How .... How can we stop there being so much blood? I want you to show me."

Heart now beating much faster, Aemond's stomach twists with a mixture of desire and trepidation. He swallows, hard, his eye dark and heavy-lidded as he gazes down at you.

He runs his fingers through your hair, the soft feel of it against his skin maddening. "I can show you," he murmurs, "but.... you have to trust me."

"Of course. I do now." You turn your face toward his hand, palm skimming your cheek as he touches your hair. "I know you'll take care of me."

He takes another deep breath to steady himself, his hand coming to rest against the side of your face, thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Good," he whispers, "because I will, always. But there's something.... something I need to know first."

You shiver, Aemond's fingers reverent along your cheek and jaw. "What is it?"

Fingers now trailing down your neck, he pauses, hand coming to rest on your collarbone, your pulse beating fast and hard against his palm.

Aemond leans in close, his voice a rumble in your ear. "You.... you have never even been touched, have you?"

You are very aware of how hard your heart is beating, thumping underneath his fingers. "I haven't.... is that bad?"

Aemond breathes heavily, pulling back to look at you.

"No," he says emphatically, "it's not bad. It's.... it's just...." He trails off for a moment, struggling to find the words. "I need to know.... if you're still.... if you're still intact."

The question makes you blush furiously, looking down at your laps, side by side, so you don't have to look Aemond in the eye. "I.... yes.... isn't that where the blood comes from?"

You don't know much, but you do know that.

He places two fingers gently under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him again.

"Yes," he says, "that's where the blood comes from. But it can break in other ways. For instance, from fingers or.... other objects." His fingers trace along your cheek, obviously trying to soothe your growing discomfort at this conversation.

"But it.... it doesn't have to," he adds after a moment.

You chuckle, reluctantly meeting Aemond's gaze. "Can we try?"

He takes a moment to steady himself, his hand now trailing back down your neck, slowly caressing. "Are you sure? Absolutely sure?"

You nod fervently, gripping onto his wrist. "Positively. Now that I understand you better, I can think of no one else I'd like to teach me such things...."

He leans in, lips brushing your ear again, breath hot against your skin. "Then I will," he murmurs, his voice an uneven, ragged whisper, "I will show you. And I will take my time."

Long have you waited for someone to come along and share this experience with you. When you were initially betrothed to Aemond, you thought all hope was lost - he was so frightening and the thought of sharing a bed with him sent a shiver of panic through you.

But now.... Women have desires just as much as men do, surely... At least you know you do. And Aemond is offering to take care of them for you....

You steady yourself with a hand on Aemond's chest, nails digging into the soft cotton of his tunic. "Please.... I want it."

Aemond's stomach clenches, your soft, pleading voice sending a bolt of white hot desire through him.

"Patience," he murmurs, his sizeable palm laid against the back of your hand on his chest, "I'll take care of you, I promise. I just need you to relax for me, all right?"

"Mm, I'll try...." With another nod, you take a deep breath, shuddering at the feeling of Aemond's big hand covering yours entirely. "Maybe a drink would serve to relax me better...?"

This gives Aemond pause, and he pulls back slightly, his eye raking over your face, taking in the soft blush on your cheeks, the way your lips are parted as you catch your breath.

He gives a single, slow nod. "Yes," he admits, "I think a drink might help."

Without another word, he moves to a small table on the other side of the room, pouring you each a generous glass of sweet wine.

As he does so, you finger the pendant at your throat, a gift from your late mother. The way Aemond looks at you; any woman would be lucky to have a husband who looks at her that way. Like you're precious, like he would do anything to protect you.

Once offered your glass, you take it and swallow a large mouthful, hoping to get drunk as quickly as possible, to make this whole ordeal more bearable.

Aemond watches you closely, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he sees you gulp the wine so quickly. He knows you're trying to get drunk, trying to use the alcohol as a crutch to make this easier.

"There's no need to rush," he says quietly, taking a seat beside you again, his knee bumping yours. He lifts his own glass to his lips, taking a slow, measured drink.

Swallowing another substantial mouthful of wine, you furtively watch the way Aemond's lips purse around the rim of his glass.

You smooth the skirts of your dress down, taking a deep breath. "I just want to be as relaxed as possible for you, Aemond."

He continues to watch you, that striking violet eye taking in every tiny detail - the way your fingers grasp the fabric of your dress, the soft movement of your body underneath the silk.

He takes a deep breath, his eye watching you as he drains the last of the wine from the glass. "I know," he murmurs, his voice a husky rumble, "but there's no need to get completely drunk, my love."

"It can't hurt." You upend the first glass of wine, draining the last dregs, and hold your glass out toward him. "Another?"

Apparently highly amused, Aemond raises a brow, but refuses to pour you another.

"I think that's quite enough. There's no need to be quite so drunk tonight, I promise."

You pout, setting your glass aside, but starting to feel a pleasant warmth wash over you from the first glass all the same.

"How do we start?" You question, leaning in close to him. Aemond smells of chamomile and sweat and.... maybe just a hint of blood? It's the best thing you've ever smelled.

Aemond reaches for you suddenly, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you gently onto his lap so you can straddle him.

The next breath he takes rattles through him as you settle on top of him, his hands gripping your waist, heart beating fast. "We.... we start here," he whispers, his voice a rough murmur.

"Goodness," you breathe, hands curling over his shoulders to steady yourself. "And.... what do we do here?"

You're trying your best to be brave, and the wine is making it easier, but there is still that niggling worry at the back of your mind, chanting blood blood blood.

Aemond feels that slight tremble in your hands as you grab his shoulders, the way you hesitate and swallow nervously as you ask your question. He can practically hear your thoughts racing, paying attention to the fear and trepidation in your words.

He leans in close, hands slipping from your waist to bracket your ribs, pulling you flush against him, your body cradled easily in his lap. "We start like this," he murmurs, his fingers gently tilting your chin up to look at him. "Just like this."

Slowly, fingers gentle but firm on your chin, he's bringing you in for a kiss.

The sound that leaves your mouth at the first dry press of your lips together is embarrassing. You curse. "I'm sorry." You bite your lip hard, searching Aemond's one violet eye for forgiveness. "Can we try again?"

Aemond chuckles good-naturedly, hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs tracing slow, gentle patterns over your cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he whispers, leaning ever closer to you, his breath hot against your lips. "We can try as many times as you like, darling."

With a hand again around his wrist to steady yourself, you don't have far to go, what with Aemond's face so close to yours. You press your lips to his - soft yet firm. Your other hand slides up the outside of his thigh as you open your mouth under his, grateful for his willingness to teach you.

You hear Aemond's breath hitch again as he feels your hand moving up his leg, the touch of your slim, soft fingers against his body sending a shiver down his spine. He groans as you open your mouth, his tongue immediately seeking yours, tangling, tasting, claiming.

He grips your hair in one hand, angling your head back so he can deepen the kiss, his other hand back to gripping your hip, pulling you tighter against him.

You do the same, hands migrating down, loving the feeling of Aemond's slim, strong muscle under your fingers. As you kiss, you surreptitiously move the thin cloth of Aemond's tunic aside so you can touch him skin to skin over his sharp hipbones.

This earns you a keen inhale from your husband, who jerks away from you.

"I'm sorry," you breathe. "Is this okay?"

His mouth has opened in a gasp against yours, eyes squeezing shut.

When they open again, he merely looks at you, taking in the soft, pink flush of your cheeks, the way your pupils are thoroughly dilated, your chest heaving. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "Yes," he says ruggedly, his voice a scratchy gasp, "I'm sorry, it is. It's okay."

A flood of warmth washes over you, and you grin. You don't know why, but you want to kiss his neck.

Fingers digging hard into his hip, you lean in, nosing his long hair out of the way as your lips meet his neck, sucking and biting. Aemond tastes clean and faintly of rose water.

Aemond's head tips back immediately, giving your lips and teeth free reign over his neck, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh at the unfamiliar sensation. A soft, low moan escapes him as your mouth traces a path along the sensitive skin of his neck.

His body arches against yours. "My love," he gasps, his voice a ragged, breathless plea, "this is maddening."

"Need you to teach me," is your reply, pushing harder against him. "Don't go mad just yet."

He runs his hands down your sides, skimming over the soft, silky material of your dress, his body reacting powerfully to your closeness. "Gods, woman," he gasps, thumbs playing idly along the edge of your ribs, "are you sure you haven't done this before?"

You rest your cheek on Aemond's shoulder, nose brushing along the chiseled line of his jaw. "Positive," you sigh, arms now slung around him. "But I like the way you touch me. It's making me feel all hot and wet.... down there."

At this declaration, Aemond makes a noise you've never heard anyone make before. He nuzzles against your collarbone, pressing slow, hot kisses along the line of your chest just visible over the collar of your dress.

His mouth is starting to curve into a wicked smile. "Do you want me to touch you there, too?"

With a nod, you begin to pull the folds of your dress up over your thighs. "Please. The feeling down there, it's.... very insistent." And Aemond's fingers look perfectly long and warm and rough with calluses.

Aemond swallows hard as he watches the fabric of your dress retreat up over your thighs, the soft, bare skin of your legs suddenly exposed to him. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every detail - the soft, pale flesh, the way the candlelight casts shadows over the curves of your body.

As though trying not to startle you, Aemond runs his knuckles painstakingly slowly up the inside of your thigh. "When we were first betrothed, I knew I had gotten lucky."

That drunken haze still hovering around you, you let your legs slip further apart around him. "Lucky? How so?"

His hand moves further up, touch feather-light against her skin. "Lucky," he murmurs, "because I knew I'd be marrying the most beautiful woman in all Seven Kingdoms."

He lets his hand move higher still, fingers stopping just before they reach the edge of your smallclothes. He pauses, looking intently at you, the question plain on his face.

"I never knew you thought I was beautiful...." You lean more against him, feeling impossibly safe and comfortable in his embrace. "Please. You can."

Hips canting forward, you try to push his hand in toward you.

"The most beautiful," he replies. He can feel your hips moving subtly against his, feel his own desire rising with every move you make.

Those long fingers hook into the edge of your smallclothes, running the backs of his knuckles along the sensitive bit of skin he finds there.

Your eyes flutter shut, the feeling of his gentle fingers finally scooping up under your dress making your stomach flip nervously. "Please." The word is uttered against Aemond's chin, where you've pressed your lips as you wait to feel his hand where you need it most.

As slowly as he an manage, he insinuates those fingers fully inside your smallclothes. He can feel the heat of your skin, the way you squirm in his lap as he moves closer to his destination, his own body reacting strongly to the anticipation.

He leans in, mouth finding yours in a heated, hungry kiss, his fingers finally, finally touching that wet, sensitive flesh between your thighs.

A sharp inhale accompanies the meeting of Aemond's hand to your sex. Everything down there feels so wet already, you suppose you should be embarrassed, but the wine is making it hard to feel so, which you're grateful for.

"Aemond...." Seeking his lips for another kiss, you mutter, "please don't stop."

One long finger sinks into your wet, hot flesh, his entire body shivering at the feeling of you beneath his hands. He lets out a ragged gasp as you kiss him, mouth moving fervently against yours, tongue delving into your mouth, tangling with yours.

With a low, gruff noise, he starts to move his finger inside of you, slow, gentle circles that make your muscles tighten and twitch against his hand. "I won't," he murmurs against your lips, his eyes squeezed shut, "I promise, I won't."

Aemond's finger has slid easily into you, all the way down to the knuckle. "Is it -?" You gasp, glancing down, tugging your skirts out of the way to see better. "It's inside? I thought it would be much more painful...."

You know it might not be the same with his manhood, which is surely a fair bit bigger than one of his fingers, but you're glad things have gone smoothly so far all the same.

Aemond's other hand presses itself solidly against that little bundle of nerves, the one you're familiar with, the one that makes you see stars, and you bite his lower lip a little too hard in response.

"Shit, sorry."

Aemond lets out a low chuckle at your reaction, his lips curving into a smile against your mouth. "No need to apologize, sweet girl," he mutters. "There's a possibility it might hurt more than this when we go further, but I promise I'll be gentle."

He moves his finger in and out of you slowly, his other hand still pressing against you, the pad of his thumb circling that swollen bud, his touch gentle but firm. "How does this feel?"

A pang of fear shoots through you at his declaration that you will likely be in pain later on, but it's soothed by the way Aemond's fingers are gently coaxing themselves inside of you and over your clit.

"It feels perfect, Aemond. I never even knew it could feel this good." Not even when you'd touched yourself in bed at night.

Aemond's eye darkens as he hears your words, the sound of your voice, gutted and breathless, making his stomach clench. "This is just the beginning, sweet girl. There's so much more I can show you."

He slips another finger into you, feeling your body tighten and go taut around him, his own body still reacting powerfully to the sight and feel of you. He leans in to kiss you again, his mouth hungrily claiming yours.

With another finger inside, you start to squirm in his lap, and your hand slips, colliding with something hard inside of Aemond's trousers.

"Aemond," you gasp, "it.... it's hard."

Aemond lets out a strangled noise as your hand brushes against him, his body shuddering, his eye squeezing shut. "Ah, shit, sweetheart," he gasps, his breath ragged, "Don't do that."

He looks at you, his breath coming in quick, rough pants, his eye darkened to a deep, intense violet. "I'm going to be patient with you."

He says this like he's trying to convince himself of it.

"I'm sorry," you gasp again, hands flying to your mouth. "I didn't mean to touch it...."

Gaze flickering to the windows, to the Targaryen flags flying from every turret, you stifle a smile. "But maybe.... maybe you don't have to be so patient...."

Aemond growls at your words, fingers slowing their ministrations over you. "How impatient would you have me be?"

You reach down to take his free hand - the one currently touching your clit in nice, soft circles - in yours, lacing your fingers as you lean into him. "Still gentle, just.... Maybe lead me? Show me how things like this should be done."

Aemond can practically feel his self-restraint slipping at your words, the feeling of your small, soft hand in his making his head spin. He takes a deep breath, trying desperately to maintain control, to keep up the facade of gentility.

He grips your chin with his free hand, lifting your face to meet his eye, his voice low and rough. "Are you sure you're ready for that?" He asks, the question almost pained.

"I am. I'm sure." You wrap your shoulders around him, burying your face against his neck. "Take me to bed and show me, please."

Aemond swallows hard, the feeling of your breath against him sending a shudder through him. Lifting you easily in his arms, he stands silently from the settee.

The loss of Aemond's fingers from inside of you makes you whine, clinging to his broad shoulders as he makes his way to the bed.

He lays you gently down, crawling over you, hand once again trailing up the soft expanse of your thigh.

"Aemond...."

A sweet noise rumbles through him as he positions himself on top of you, body pressing you down against the covers, hips slotting between your legs. His gaze as he looks down on you is fiery, eye raking over your body, hands gripping and kneading the supple flesh of your thighs.

"You drive me mad, do you know that?" He murmurs. He leans down to kiss your neck, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin.

With Aemond on top of you, you reach around to tug the back of his tunic up, skimming your fingers along the warm skin of his lower back.

"Why did you never.... tell me before?" You mutter quietly, nibbling at Aemond's earlobe.

Aemond allows himself a deep moan as you touch him, your fingers roaming over his skin, your mouth on his ear. He rolls his hips against you, the aching hardness of his body weighing you down.

"Gods, I don't know," he gasps, his hands roaming over the soft curves of your body. "Maybe I could tell you were afraid of me. Maybe I was a fool."

"I suppose we both were fools." You curl your tongue around Aemond's ear, teasing.

His hardness is pressing insistently against you through your clothes. Aemond leans his forehead to yours. "I'm going to take your dress off now. Is that alright?"

You've never been naked in front of anyone before, but Aemond is making you feel so safe that you nod hurriedly, sitting up. "Yes, please."

Aemond's eye darkens at your nod, his hands immediately going to the laces of your dress, working them loose until the fabric falls away from your body. He lets his gaze roam over your exposed skin, his fingers tracing the soft planes of your body, reverent and gentle.

"Seven Hells," he mutters, his voice a ragged whisper, "I've never seen anything so perfect."

The wine allows you to feel comfortable enough to stretch out over top of your discarded dress, staring up at him over the swell of your breasts. "Don't you want to touch your perfect wife, Aemond?"

"Of course I do," he mutters. He moves aside only slightly, letting his fingers scrape over one of your hardened nipples. "I want to touch every part of you."

You arch into his touch, his fingertips hard and callused against your sensitive nipple. "Aemond.... Would I be a complete whore if I asked for your fingers back inside of me?"

"No," he mutters easily, a hand running its way down your body, the other holding himself above you. "No, you wouldn't. But I want you to ask for it, my love. I want you to tell me exactly what you want."

Your breathing quickening, the air in the room thick and heavy, you spread your legs around him, unabashed. "i want you to touch me. To touch my stomach, my hips and thighs .... my cunt. Please."

Aemond makes a ragged noise at your request, his body shuddering as you open yourself to him. He trails his hand lower, his fingers grazing over your stomach, trailing over your hips and thighs, before coming to rest between your legs.

He lets that hand rest on your for a moment, feeling your wetness, his violet eye dark and full of lust. "Is this what you wanted, darling?"

"Yes," comes your voice, wrecked, entire body feeling overheated and overwhelmed already. "Gods, Aemond, I.... I'm sorry I didn't ask for this earlier."

You run your hands up Aemond's toned arms, tugging on the short sleeves of his tunic. "M-May I take this off?"

Feeling you tug at his tunic, Aemond nods, loving that ragged and pleading tone in your voice. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, can see the raw, pleading look in your eyes, and he's never been more turned on in his life.

By way of a real answer, he reaches down and hooks his fingers under the hem of his shirt to rip it off over his head. He shakes his hair out majestically, making you giggle.

But after that giggle.... You can do nothing but lay beneath him and stare. His body is perfect, abs cut into his skin above the smooth, narrow line of his hips.

"Goodness ...." You whisper, fingertips prodding at his hardened stomach. "You're.... actually perfect."

"Perfect, really?" He replies, clearly perplexed. "I'd say I'm looking at perfection right now."

You whimper, Aemond's moist lips once more at your neck, his body pressed to yours. "How do you.... get your body to look that way? Maybe you can teach me that too, as well as how to ride a dragon."

Aemond laughs softly, his teeth scraping against you as he kisses down your neck. "It's actually quite simple," he murmurs, his hands roaming over your body, arms caging you in against the bed. "Just a lot of sword practice and fighting."

He pauses, his lips trailing teasingly over the line of your jaw. "I'm going to teach you to ride more than just a dragon, my love."

"I could sword fight." Your voice doesn't sound like it ever has before. "Easy. Train me."

You gasp at his words, nails now digging into his back. "And what else are you going to teach me to ride, husband?"

Aemond lets out a low chuckle at your response, his muscles coiling where your nails dig into his skin. He rolls his hips against you and makes you gasp.

"I can teach you how to ride me," he mutters, his voice a rough, ragged whisper. "Or maybe you'd like a ride on my face."

Your eyes go wide, and you press him away by the shoulder just so you can look him in the eye. "I.... I'm allowed to do that?"

You've never heard of this - using your mouth? Why have you never thought of it before?

"Of course you are," he murmurs, looking bemusedly down on you. "And I would be more than happy to let you."

His hot breath whispers over your skin as he leans to speak into your ear. "You've never heard of it before, have you?"

"I haven't." You tilt your head, fingers tender along Aemond's jaw. "How should I.... How do I do it?"

Aemond's eye closes at the feeling of your fingers, tender on his jaw, your touch ever gentle and caressing. He makes a very small noise and shudders over top of you. "It's easy, darling."

"I just lean back here...." With one swift movement, Aemond rolls and settles himself against the pillows. "You come up here...."

Gentle but insistent hands guide you, pulling you all the way up. "And swing a leg over me."

Still helped along by his strong hands, you throw one knee on the opposite side of Aemond's head, bracketing his ears with your thighs. "Like.... this?"

This position makes you feel as nervous as you have all night, even with the aid of the wine - Aemond can see all of you. Truly all of you, and you can't quite meet his eye because of it.

Aemond's hands tighten on your thighs, his breathing growing ragged. He can sense your nervousness, the way your muscles are tensing up, the way you're avoiding his eye.

He rubs his hands soothingly across your thighs, trying to relax you. "That's it, darling." His voice is soft, comforting. "You look gorgeous."

You bite your lip, carding one hand through Aemond's alluring silver hair. The other you place over his good eye, the hint of a smile on your face as you mutter, "Don't look...."

Aemond smirks, and yanks you suddenly, roughly forward by the backs of your thighs, so that your womanhood is directly above his smirking lips. "As you wish."

He places a single, open-mouthed kiss to your clit and the suction, the wetness, of it all is enough to make you squeal.

There's one poignant moment where Aemond's intensely hot, wet mouth rests over your womanhood. Then, with a jagged moan, he begins to lave over you, lips, tongue, and teeth working in tandem.

His callused palms cradle the backs of your thighs, keeping you in place as his tongue works you over. And when that same tongue points itself deep inside of your core, you can no longer keep your hand over his eye, lest you want to smash your husband's head painfully into the sheets.

Instead, that hand flies to the headboard, holding on for dear life. "Gods, Aemond! I.... I've never felt anything like this, what.... what in the seven hells...."

Aemond redoubles his grip on your thighs, keeping you in place as he works you with his tongue, his mouth and teeth and lips bringing you to new heights of pleasure. He moans roughly, and the sound reverberates through you, making your mouth fall open.

"Just... relax, my love," he mutters against your folds, "I did say I would worship you, did I not?"

You nod, still petting a hand gently through Aemond's hair, coiling your fingers around the strands, feeling how soft it is. Your eyes, however, are trained on the gilded ceiling when you answer.

"Y-You did, but.... this.... I didn't even know this was a thing people did. Is this.... common?"

"No, sweet one," he mutters, his voice thick with desire and - somewhere - a hint of disdain, "it isn't common. Most men see their wives as something to be claimed, conquered. And I...."

"You see them as something to be worshipped," you answer, remembering his words from earlier.

Aemond lets out a low chuckle against you as you knot your fingers in his hair, his tongue continuing to lathe across you. He lifts his head for a moment, his lips and chin glistening, a smirk on his face. "Look at me."

You do, and are rewarded with his fingers climbing the insides of your thighs, splaying themselves over you. "You are the most exquisite creature I've ever laid eyes on."

The sight of his face, so slick with you, his eye dark, his sapphire glinting, his fingers roaming over your thighs, it all makes you shiver, your breathing coming in short, ragged gasps.

"And you," he continues, voice muffled against your folds, "you taste divine."

And without another word, he dives back in, his tongue delving into you once more, his hands gripping your thighs, bringing you lower, closer to him.

All of this - Aemond telling you how beautiful you are, his talented mouth on you, the haze of the wine moving through you - has you tumbling toward the edge quicker than you've ever done so by yourself.

"Aemond.... close!" You give a hard tug to Aemond's hair, warning him.

He closes his eyes as he focuses on nothing more than bringing you further to the edge, the heat of your body and the taste of you driving him wild, pushing him to give you more, more, more.

"Just.... let go," he mutters against you. "I want you to let go for me, my sweet."

You're trembling now, hips riding down against his face of their own accord. "Oh, gods...." You've never done this in front of anyone before. What will Aemond think of the way you climax? Will it be embarrassing? "Aemond...."

There's no longer any time to think it over, though, as one last swipe of his tongue sends you spiraling with a loud cry.

Aemond's heart is pounding hard, watching you cum, his eye wide and alight with desire as he watches your body shudder and shake above him, your cry of pleasure filling the room and, undoubtedly, the hallways around it.

He helps you ride out the wave of pleasure, his tongue slowly bringing you back down, peppering your thighs and hip bones with hot, open-mouthed kisses.

Your eyes fluttering, your chest heaving, Aemond coaxes you through your first climax with him and then maneuvers you down to lay beside him. You feel so boneless, you sure you aren't much help in this endeavor.

"That was...." You don't even have the words to describe what just happened to you.

Aemond watches you closely as you lay beside him, breasts rising and falling heavily, your skin flushed and marked all over with his mouth, one hand trailing lightly over your stomach. The sight of you, well-loved and satisfied, makes his chest burn with desire.

He leans in close to you, curling his body around yours like a protective shield. His mouth trailing over your neck, his voice a quiet whisper. "That was beautiful. And we're only getting started."

You gaze at him out of half-lidded eyes, your body already feeling drained from just one round. "What...." You stifle a yawn behind your hand, trying to hide it. "What's next?"

Aemond laughs at the sight of you yawning, both hands now brushing over your body, his touch gentle. He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, hear the tiredness in your voice.

He leans down and presses a loving kiss to your forehead. "I don't think you're quite ready for more yet, my love. You look like you're barely awake."

Through your tiredness, you whine, "But you promised to show me. What it's like...." You're pressing sleepy kisses to Aemond's jaw, lips sweeping down over his neck.

Aemond's lashes flutter at your tiny kisses, his arms curling strong and protective around you. He makes an odd noise, and you realize you may have had an orgasm, but he never did.

"I can take care of it for you." Searching down below, hands clumsy and heavy with sleep, you feel Aemond grab for your wrist.

"And you will," he mutters, admonishing. "But tonight it's getting late, and you're tired. We have our whole lives together, we need not rush this."

Another yawn overtakes you, and you snuggle down into his warmth. "Tomorrow, then?" You mumble, arms slung lazily around him. "And dragon riding tomorrow, too...."

Aemond chuckles again at your insistence, hands gently rubbing themselves over your body, comforting you. He shifts back on the bed, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you, holding you as close as possible.

"Of course, my love," he murmurs, his voice a gentle, soothing rumble in your ear. "Tomorrow. And dragon riding, too. But for now, you need to sleep."

Aemond runs the very tips of his fingers up and down your back, just along your spine.

"I really am sorry, Aemond...." You're already half asleep, struggling to stay awake, to get the words out. "D'you really forgive me?"

Aemond sighs.

"Of course I forgive you," he whispers, breath tickling your ear. "It's all in the past now, my love. The only thing that matters is you and me, right here, right now. And dragon riding tomorrow, I promise...."

[composeregg]

edit (10/23/2024) now that the poll is over: Original version, with 10 questions, from April 2023 here

And, given that the original is from April 2023, that means I can very easily say:

No, this was not an ISAT reference!

Just because I use parentheses and 2nd person pov and love the same concepts of what a time loop can do to a person doesn't mean it's ISAT

(Yes, I like ISAT, the original poll is why I was recommended the game! But if you look at the original, you can see all the origins of the options to choose from, including what spurred me on with the moss option from the replies)

If I were going to make something for ISAT, I would never be so vague, you can simply look at my ao3 for proof of that

[vampiefemme]

so, your best friend accidentally sent you a video of her masturbating. what now?

18+ below! smut smut smut!

ellie’s bedroom is heavy with the scent of sex, her fingers still pruned from her own wetness. she’s spent the last few minutes tense and panicked, too paralyzed with anxiety to get up and put some clothes on, and she’s considering what she’ll change her name to and where she’ll move to start a new life when you finally, finally text her back.

it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?

the weight on her chest eases a bit at your reassurance, but a new spark of uncertainty flares up at the second part of the message: give me a second to reply. jaw tight, she sends you a question mark, then follows up with you don’t have to respond. it’s probably better if you don’t?? again i’m so fucking sorry.

but as the minutes tick by, slow and lazed, she starts to panic again. her mind conjures every possible response you could send her next: an angry thesis statement on why ellie’s a disgusting pervert, a seething comment about how stupid she must be for sending a video like that so carelessly. would you ever look at her the same way? would things ever be the same?

all it takes is another notification from you to make every imagined worst-case scenario evaporate. ellie clicks the notification as soon as it pops up, chewing on the soft flesh of her inner lip.

it’s a video.

you sent her a video.

she hits the play button without a second thought, heartbeat thudding in her ears.

“i know you’re probably embarrassed,” you say, head tilting as you frown with sympathy. a blush paints ellie’s cheeks bright red. “but i need you to know how wet that made me.”

holding the camera up, you extend your arm outwards to reveal the rest of your body - your naked body, ellie realizes with a shock. she sits up in bed, back ramrod straight, her phone shaking as a nervous tremor strikes through her. but she can’t look away - not when you’re tracing a hand down the soft curves of your body, fingertips grazing over one peaked nipple, then moving lower, lower. ellie swears she’s forgotten how to breathe.

you release a pleased hum. “i liked watching you touch yourself,” you say, so matter-of-fact. “i hope you like watching me.”

and she does, god she does. she settles back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving the screen as you work two fingers through your soaked folds. you moan and sigh and keen, rolling your hips down against your own hand, the wet sounds of your pussy so intoxicating, ellie can’t believe she’s gone her whole life without seeing you like this.

and it might be wrong, the way her own hand drifts between her legs to find herself still hot and wet, but she doesn’t have it in herself to care. she dips a finger inside of herself as she watches you ride your own hand, grinding down on your palm as your fingers work in and out of your cunt. she finds a rhythm that matches your own; soon enough, you’re both gasping at the pleasure building beneath your waistline. with every roll of your hips, ellie’s cunt tightens, flooding with slickness - as if she could get any wetter.

as you get closer to the edge, your grip on your phone falters and the camera starts to shake. ellie hisses and curses under her breath when your phone captures the blissed-out look on your face: eyes rolled back, brows pulled together, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“oh - oh my god,” you stutter, panting, “i’m gonna come, ellie.”

ellie. ellie ellie ellie.

“holy fuck.” ellie’s pussy clamps down around her fingers at the sound of her name on your lips; her thumb glides over her clit just right, and she didn’t think she’d come this fast but she does, her vision exploding into blinding white as her orgasm crashes into her. it’s the only time she looks away from the video on her screen - but she certainly hears your orgasm, all high-pitched moans and ragged breaths, your cunt gushing onto your fingers.

when ellie finds the strength to open her eyes again, the video is still playing. you’re catching your breath, chest shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. you look at the camera and smile. ellie thinks she might pass out.

“thanks for the video,” you say, lifting your free hand up to wave.

when you bring your fingers to your mouth and purse your lips around them, sucking them clean of your own come, ellie’s sure she’s going to pass out.

and then, she decides, she’s going to fuck you stupid.

[erabu-san]

I enjoyed every second of this quest

[This art has platonic intention. Thank you for not tag ship!]

[k0nstanta]

>MEOW

Play as a robot catgirl named K0tya who is trying to help her Master locate the missing lab rats (ignore the fact that said Master's forgetfulness is the reason they are missing in the first place).

Explore the research facility that you live in and find those missing critters before the morning shift starts, or your Master gets in trouble.

Contains swearing and suggestive language.

Made in RPG Maker 2003.

>>> DOWNLOAD HERE <<<

[sashiavi]

Jealous SDV (hybrid?) boys rutting into you after getting jealous after smelling someone else on you <3

Ahhh oh goshhhh okay- I need to whip smth up for this

(I got carried away - forgive me? I went for a ramble and it became smth- I wrote enough for warnings 😭)

Warnings : Smut | 18+ | Hybrid Characters | Scenting | implication of ruts and heats | jealousy | thoughts about lactation & pregnancy | Sam Sebastian Alex Sh*ne | not beta read >v>

PuppyBoy!Sam jumping on you when you finally return home! Hugging you, nuzzling into your neck and sniffing in your scent with a happy sigh when you card your hand through his hair.

PuppyBoy!Sam who stops short, nose pressing hard into your skin, inhaling an ever familiar scent; Sebastian, the Catboy.

PuppyBoy!Sam who whines and whimpers, his yellow-blonde ears drooping down. The smell distressing him despite being best friends with Sebastian for many years - He squirms and cries, glomping over you, tail frantically wagging as he makes an attempt to heavily scent you.

PuppyBoy!Sam pressing his body to your own, weight keeping you on the surface of the bed below, feverishly rocking his hips into your cunt. Heavy balls slapping into your pussy, warm hands all over your body.

PuppyBoy!Sam who can't help but bite and nibble at your skin, slobbering all over you. His tail wiggles and wags, ears pinned to his head, poor croaked voice whimpering and whining, moaning out silly insecurities and desperate attempts to soothe himself.

PuppyBoy!Sam just can't stop crying. "You love me, I know you do!" "M' a Good Boy! Right?" "Better than Seb- Love you more-!" Babbling nonsense while he humps at your gushy pussy and feverishly rubs at your clit.

CatBoy!Sebastian lazily crawling to you on the lounge when you return, slinking across, tail swishing calmy as he snuggles up, gently pawing at your chest.

CatBoy!Sebastian tucking his face into your neck as he carefully kneads at your skin, peppering kisses and nose boops behind your ear.

CatBoy!Sebastian letting out a little feral growl at the offensive scent of someone else lingering on your clothes and skin - Probably that stupid dumb Jock CowHybrid!Alex. His ears pin and his tail stands static.

CatBoy!Sebastian biting and licking his corse tongue over your pretty, sensitive nipples. Hands kneading at your thighs, lips latched over your pert buds. If he thought and imagined hard enough, he could taste your sweet milky cream on his tongue.

CatBoy!Sebastian who gets a little carried away with the thought of you swollen and leaking milk just for him and his Kittens. He can't help but rut and grind up on your clothed cunt.

CatBoy!Sebastian who wraps his fingers around your throat, squeezing subtly, coaxing your tongue to lul out of your mouth.

CatBoy!Sebastian who spits on your tongue and kisses you after. Searing hot, canines clattering your own, biting into your soft lips as he pulls away, eyes quinted and lips downturned in a pouty frown.

CowHybrid!Alex knocking his forehead softly into your own, mindful of his budding horns, bringing you into a warm hug after your night out at the Saloon.

CowHybrid!Alex kissing your temple, shucking off your coat to hang up, noticing a wet patch and catching a whiff of something odd - Spilt beer no doubt, tangled in something spicy.. Jalepeno poppers?

CowHybrid!Alex wasting little time, instincts running rampant. Easily manhandling your pretty self to the nearest counter, head in the clouds, mind only focused on reclaiming what was his.

CowHybrid!Alex falling victim to his own Bull heritage - Rutting his cock up between the pretty swell of your ass, horns poking pressure into the back of your head. His jaw threatens to nip and bite into your neck, rough, large hands pressing you down.

CowHybrid!Alex who makes haste at his pants, revealing his veiny leaky cock, pushing the sticky, squishy tip up against your wet panties. Grinding and pushing the barrier of your underwear, messing up the fabric even more with his own leaky pre.

CowHybrid!Alex pulling your panties aside and fucking his thick bull cock into your pretty pussy, tumbling himself into a rut. He moans and shouts, hands on your hips to pull you back on his length.

CowHybrid!Alex who can't help but stare at his fat, drippy bull cock burying up in your tight, wet cunt.

CowHybrid!Alex who would go again and again, releasing his hot milky cum over and over, Marking up on your insides. Messy and gooey, dripping down his own front as he humps at you from behind.

BearHybrid!Shane walking home with you from the Saloon, after a big night of drinking and Pool with the other younger patrons of the town.

BearHybrid!Shane grumbling as you enter the front door, kicking off his shoes. Bending to put them on the rack, standing with a crack in his knee and a glare when you giggle at him.

BearHybrid!Shane who pretends to be mad, pulling you in for a big warm hug, wrapping his arms around your frame, squeezing you snug and tight.

BearHybrid!Shane who lets up a little, nose pressing into your hair and neck, catching a whiff of an abundance of hybrid smells - Some Canine, Feline, all sticking to your skin more than he'd like - Surely those youngin boys weren't stupid enough to make an attempt at anything? Right?

BearHybrid!Shane who thinks he just has to mark you up better, to let everyone know who you really belonged to.

BearHybrid!Shane rubbing his scratchy chin on your neck, pressing his larger body on to your own, putting a warm pressure on your skin.

BearHybrid!Shane licking at your skin, nibbling, biting, kissing up on your torso, leading down, down, down your tummy to your core.

BearHybrid!Shane squeezing at your hips and thighs with his large, warm hands, pawing at your body, caressing and teasing over all the most sensitive and ticklish spots. His large thumbs swiping over your cute, drooly pussy, his own mouth nearly watering at the sight.

BearHybrid!Shane suckling on your clit, lapping his tongue through your sticky folds, grumbling to himself between your legs cause you're just "Too fucken' sweet" "Like fucken' honey, Baby".

BearHybrid!Shane and his scratchy 12 o clock shadow scraping your inner thigh. Large, warm hands squeezing at your hips, pulling your pussy onto his tongue.

BearHybrid!Shane with his lips smushed up on your cunt, nose bumping up on your clit, pretty purple eyes peering up through his dark brow, furrowed and grumpy while he laps and suckles on you. Just spitting and drooling up on your thighs, marking you up with his teeth and slobber.

(I don't have a favourite what do you meannn)

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[anto-pops]

Midnight Rendezvous - Sylus x Female!Reader

Summary: An unmistakable tension has always existed between you and Sylus, and despite trying, you’ve never been able to make much sense of it. He’s haughty, arrogant, and too attractive for his own good. After he intervenes and saves you from a questionable situation during a girl’s night out, he whisks you away to his house despite your protests. You want to hate him— you want to be mad at him— but it’s increasingly difficult to fight against your desires, and before long… you stop trying. 

Alternatively summarized as you and Sylus having steamy, passionate sex for the first time. 

Word Count: 13.9k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, rough sex, size difference

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 (with more diverse tags)

The Midnight Bar was, for all intents and purposes, an eclectic melting pot for all of Linkon’s denizens. With its colorful strobe lights and intense, pounding music that poured from the open doorway, it beckoned to any and all passersby, tempting them to set foot past the threshold and lose themselves in the sea of bodies that congregated on the dance floor. More often than not, you dismissed your repetitive, fleeting inclinations to come here for a night of fun. It was easier to justify your homebody tendencies with countless excuses that all pertained to work. But not tonight. 

No, tonight you wanted to let loose. You wanted to cast aside your worries and obligations for a few hours, to have a few fruity cocktails that you knew would have you on your ass tomorrow. You wanted to dance until your feet throbbed, until your back ached, until your ears rang and drowned out the never ending cacophony of concerns that plagued your mind.

Life was… complicated. You wanted to forget about it all for once. You wanted to be selfish. 

Tara had mercifully agreed to accompany you to the club. Phrasing it as a ‘girl’s night out’ had certainly helped matters, and her light-hearted aura would do wonders for your fluctuating emotions. It was easy to stay level headed when she was around, and you found yourself wondering if the data analyst was even aware of her influence. 

From your rooted position on the dance floor, you could see Tara at the bar waiting dutifully for the drinks she’d offered to buy, chatting with the burly bartender all the while. You knew you had no business drinking anymore– you’d had three of those strawberry whatever’s already– but the night called for it, and your clammy palms craved the chilled feeling of the thick, cocktail glass more than was probably healthy. The steady ebb and flow of the music had you moving in sync with the crowd around you flawlessly; your hips swayed, your arms languidly rose above your head, and your eyes fluttered shut as you rolled your head back to toss a few strands of hair out of your face. 

Nothing else existed to you in that moment, and you were more than willing to ride the brainless high for a while longer. Wanderers, Grandma and Caleb, The Hunter’s Association, your heart condition… all of it was inconsequential. Every thought that entered your mind dissipated into nothing just as quickly as it appeared, and the last thing you planned to do was squander a second of the reprieve. 

That is, until a warm, broad hand appeared on your waist. 

Your eyes flew open at the same time you looked over your shoulder, and your field of view was instantly obscured by a familiar chest clad in a black and red button-up shirt. A smokey, almost spicy cologne flooded your senses, and you recognized the scent even before you craned your neck back to meet Sylus’ imposing gaze. He looked the same as always; annoyingly attractive. His pale hair was effortlessly combed off his forehead to showcase those ruby-red eyes that had once imbued you with a healthy dose of fear. Now though, the sight of them only stoked the flames of rebellion within you. 

What the hell was he doing in Linkon City? Why was he here of all places? 

“All this time and I only ever had you pegged as an indoor cat,” his sultry voice reverberated against you as he bent down to speak directly against your ear, and much to your dismay, you shivered involuntarily. “You never fail to surprise me, kitten.” 

On shaky legs, you managed to step out of Sylus’ reach, his fingers trailing across your hip until you were far enough away that his hand fell back to his side. His expression was the usual smug variant you typically saw plastered to his face, and he cocked his head to the side as he took in your disheveled appearance. For whatever reason, your confidence from earlier seemed to vanish completely, and you found yourself feeling incredibly self-conscious having him see you like this. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you looked… messy. The thin sheen of sweat on your face had your hair clinging to your cheeks for dear life, and the thrum of liquor in your veins warmed you so thoroughly that you were confident you were flushed from head to toe. 

Out of everyone that could have possibly crossed your path tonight, why did it have to be him? You would have preferred that Zayne walked in to chastise you for your poor life choices rather than the puffed up, Adonis-incarnate before you now. Stupid Sylus with his stupid, attractive smile and his stupid perfect body. 

Having stared at him for long enough, you mercifully didn’t slur your words when you bit out, “What are you doing here?” 

“I think I’m the one who should be asking you that, Miss Hunter.” He easily closed the minuscule distance between the two of you with half a step, gingerly putting the back of his hand against your forehead to gauge your temperature. You swatted the appendage away and scowled, your irritation rising when he smirked in response to the motion. “What will people say when they hear that Linkon’s valiant defender is drunk in the club on a Thursday night? Have you finally tossed away your self-imposed restrictions to join the rest of society in debauchery?” 

“I’m not drunk,” you retorted, and the dry look Sylus shot you conveyed just how willing he was to believe you. “I’m not! I’m just having a bit of fun. I don’t work tomorrow, so Tara and I decided to have a girl’s night out. Which means you can’t be here.” 

“Can’t I? Or will you run to the nearest police officer and tell them that the leader of Onychinus showed face at the Midnight Bar? I didn’t think you had it in you, sweetie.” 

To hear him even suggest such a thing made your stomach sink into the floor, and you stood up straight as you nervously glanced around the room to make sure no one had heard him so boldly announcing his title. “Quiet down! I swear it’s like you want to be caught. I wouldn’t do that, I just– why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be at home?” 

At home clearly meant the N109 Zone, but Sylus picked up on your shrouded speech well enough. He fluidly shifted to allow a cluster of younger girls to dart past him through the crowd, but his eyes never wavered from yours. “Why else would I deign to grace Linkon City with my presence? I’m here on business. It’s since concluded, but I wanted to grab a drink. I wasn’t expecting to find you in the middle of the dance floor all by yourself.” 

Your tipsy brain was slow to process all of his information, the most prudent of which had to do with who he was discussing business with in this part of the city. You didn’t even bother to ask, though. Sylus could avoid your questions like he was born to do it, and you were painfully aware of how much he loved to goad you. Better to let the matter rest… for now. 

You crossed your arms over your chest– suddenly acutely aware of the plunging neckline of your dress– and did your best to sound firm. “Well, don’t stop on my account. Go get your drink so I can go back to what I was doing.” 

Those eyes of his were predatory in every sense of the word. You may as well have been naked with how vulnerable you felt on the receiving end of his unrelenting stare. “And leave you all alone here? Perish the thought.” 

Right on cue, you spotted Tara’s familiar head of hair bobbing and weaving through the crowd, both of her arms raised to protect the integrity of the two cocktails she held from the ever shifting sea of bodies. You instantly relaxed at the sight of her, and if Sylus’s raised brow was anything to go by, he noticed your change in demeanor almost immediately. He glanced over his shoulder in time to spot Tara emerging from the throng of bodies, one of the drinks in her hands already outstretched towards you. 

“The wait was crazy, but the bartender was really nice!” She had to shout over the roar of the music, an easygoing smile already playing on her lips. You took the offered beverage from her while she continued, “He gave me his employee discount for both of the drinks. I think he liked–”

You knew the exact moment Tara noticed the six foot two giant towering over you, her brown eyes becoming comically wide as she shifted her weight to look up at Sylus. Recognition flashed across her face, and for a brief moment you felt a genuine surge of panic. But then her expression smoothed out, and she gently patted Sylus’ shoulder in a friendly greeting. 

“You’re Skye, right? It’s been forever! What are you doing here?” 

Skye? You were confused for all of two seconds until you remembered the one and only time Tara had ever met Sylus; at the hotel all those weeks ago during your team building exercise. You thought he had been pretending to be a fruit vendor, up until he let you know that he would order more of the watermelon served there that you loved so much, cluing you in on the fact that he had some kind of dealings with the establishment. The enigma of a man seemed to have his fingers in damn near every pie in Linkon and the N109 Zone. 

Was nowhere safe from his influence? Honestly… 

The conversation between your two acquaintances had continued in the midst of your reminiscing, and Sylus pinned you with a knowing look, which brought yet another scowl to your face. “I’m just passing through. I happened to see Miss Hunter over here looking incredibly lonely, so I decided I’d come and say hello.”

Liar. “I already told you I was here for a girl’s night out. As you can see, the girls are back together and in the middle of something.”

Tara’s glassy eyes lit up as the worst idea imaginable came to mind. “I don’t mind if you want to hang out with us, Skye. You can be one of the girls for the night if you’d like.” 

The giggle that slipped out of Tara spoke volumes of her inebriated state, and you opted to blame all the alcohol for giving her enough courage to invite a borderline stranger into your circle. If she knew the truth about the man standing mere inches away from her, you knew her tone would change in an instant. Thankfully though, Sylus interjected before you got the chance to, seemingly on the same page as you for once. 

“Thank you for the invite, but I can’t linger tonight. You two have your fun, I’ll be at the bar for a bit before I need to head out. The fruit business never sleeps, I’m afraid.”

The ease with which he lied out of his ass was something that needed to be studied by professionals, you were certain. Still, you were grateful that he was taking pity on you and excusing himself, though you had to admit you were… surprised by it. The Sylus you knew wouldn’t turn his nose up at a chance to taunt you and keep you on your toes. Even though he had revealed sides of himself to you that you hadn’t expected, at the end of the day, Sylus was an instigator at his core. 

Red eyes glittering with mirth met yours for the briefest of moments before the Onychinus leader turned on his heel to head for the bar, and the crowd of people that surrounded the three of you seemed to part for him effortlessly. Countless heads turned to watch Sylus as he went, women and men alike staring after him with varying degrees of attraction and envy written across their faces. You could hardly blame them. 

Men more than likely wanted to be him, and women no doubt wanted to be with him. He seemed to have that effect on everyone he crossed paths with. 

“Is there something going on between you two?” 

Your head swiveled back towards Tara so fast, the movement practically gave you whiplash. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

She playfully shoved your shoulder, which only succeeded in pushing herself away from you as she stumbled back a step. No more drinks for her, you thought to yourself. “Oh come on,” she drawled. “The tension between you and him is thick enough to cut with a knife. Plus the way he stares at you? I would melt if I was on the receiving end of those eyes.”

Thoroughly fed up with the conversation already, you simply shook your head and brought your drink to your lips, your eyes unconsciously seeking Sylus out. He was exactly where he said he would be; at the bar with a glass already pinched between his long, lithe fingers. How he had gotten a drink so fast, you didn’t know, and you furrowed your brows in confusion at the same time his gaze zeroed in on you from across the room. He raised his beverage to you and tipped his head forward in a leisurely manner, but you only gave him a nonplussed blink in response before looking away. 

“Exhibit A,” Tara tactfully pointed out when you returned to paying attention to her. “What would be the harm? He’s handsome, he’s got to be smart with all the business deals he’s involved in, he’s polite. He could be good for you if you gave him a chance.” 

“Tara, you have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s–” you cut yourself off, trying and failing to come up with a justification that didn’t out him as the head of a massive crime organization. In the end you settled for, “He’s a complicated guy. Can we just forget about it? Please?” 

“Fine, fine,” she waved off your pleading and took a hearty sip of her drink, motioning for you to do the same. “I’ll let it slide this once, but don’t think for one second that I’m dropping the subject forever. Anyways, do you think the DJ is taking requests?” 

Thankfully it didn’t take you long to fall back into your previously upbeat mood. The steady supply of alcohol and the rancorous thrum of your heartbeat in your ears certainly helped matters, and when the song Tara had requested finally came on over the pounding speakers, you shed the remainder of your inhibitions and downed the rest of your drink to free up your hands and dance wildly. It took a herculean effort not to glance back to the bar to see if Sylus was still perched on the stool in the corner, but your willpower won out in the end as you swayed your hips to the tempo of the dark, seductive music. 

Lost in the sea of bodies around you, your senses were overwhelmed with all the different sights, sounds, and smells that surrounded you. The tang of everyone’s sweat mixed together wasn’t altogether unpleasant, and the sickly sweet taste of the lingering cocktail on your lips had you wetting them as red strobe lights darted overhead. Heat from everyone packed in tight next to one another had sweat dripping down your brow, your chest, your back— so you dexterously gathered your hair in one hand to lift off of your neck to offer some reprieve. 

Tara was a blur in the corner of your eye, but you still knew she was somewhere in front of you. That was how you knew the hand on the nape of your neck wasn’t hers, and the absence of Sylus’ trademark scent told you that it wasn’t him, either. 

Ambushed by an errant hand for the second time in one night, you were quick to spin around and shove the stranger away. It was a man– an unfamiliar one at that– who looked all too put out to have been so harshly rejected within the first five seconds of trying. His hair was so black that underneath the club’s technicolored lights, it looked blue. Pale green eyes were narrowed in confusion at you, though you noticed how he immediately attempted to school his expression once you’d turned around. 

“Hey,” he called over the thrumming base of the music. “Want to dance?”

Suddenly bashful at having been so harsh, you did your best to ease up your defensive stance and allowed for a polite smile to play on your lips while you shook your head. “Thank you, but no thanks. I’m here with my friend.” 

Apparently being nice wasn’t going to work, because the stranger stepped close enough to sling his arms across your and Tara’s shoulders, and with the brief look the two of you shared, you could tell neither one of you was particularly thrilled about it. “The more the merrier! Why don’t you two come over to my booth in the corner? I’m sure my friends would love to meet you.”

Calmly but firmly, you grabbed for the man’s hand to unsling it from around your neck, taking a small step away from him as you reached for Tara. “No thank you, we’re good–”

His hand shot out quickly, and you blamed the alcohol in your system for nullifying your reaction time, because the bastard succeeded in grabbing your forearm to pull you closer once again. His nails dug into your flesh hard enough that you winced, and when you tried pulling back, you felt the telltale sting of skin breaking. “Oh come on,” he crooned, giving you an undiluted nose-full of the stale beer on his breath. “Don’t be such a buzzkill. A couple of beautiful women such as yourselves deserve a night of fun, wouldn’t you say?” 

Tara interjected this time, looking more uncomfortable than you’d ever seen her before. “We’re really fine, please let go–”

A shadow crossed your vision for a moment; large, imposing, and radiating an aura that you could only describe as murderous. Smokey cologne filled your nostrils as Sylus wrenched the man’s hand away from your arm, then picked him up by the scruff of his shirt to glare menacingly into his eyes. Over the blaring music, you had no idea what the green-eyed stranger was saying, but you could make out the sound of him stammering as he clawed at the arm that held him inches off the ground. 

For a minute, you really thought Sylus was going to end the man’s life. Even in the midst of hoisting an adult male off the floor by the fabric of his shirt, he didn’t move a muscle. It didn’t even look like he was struggling. He was eerily still, and when you moved to catch a glimpse of his side profile, there was no missing the white hot stare he had glued to his prey. 

Tentatively, you placed your hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly to get his attention. “Sylus, we’re fine– just put him down, please.” 

Aside from a muscle in his jaw ticking minutely, he gave no indication that he had heard you. You tried again, “Sylus please. People are staring, you’re causing a scene.” 

Truthfully you couldn’t care less about the people in the club watching everything unfold, but you were worried about police being called in and discovering who exactly Sylus was. The thought of him being taken away unnerved you, and even though you knew he could more than likely escape beforehand, you feared for the people that would inevitably be caught in the crossfire. 

Beneath your palm, you felt Sylus’ bicep flex before he roughly dropped the man from his ironclad grip. The stranger, wide-eyed with terror, stumbled when his feet hit the floor, but he didn’t waste any time disappearing into the crowd and vanishing from sight. You sighed with relief, grateful that things hadn’t ended badly, then looked back to the silver haired man. His red eyes were fixed on your arm where the stranger had scratched you; four stark, crescent shaped wounds were etched into your skin. Sylus gently took your hand in his to bring your forearm closer for him to inspect, lightly running his fingers over the wounds, and despite the severity of the situation, you felt your face flushing from the intimacy of the gesture. 

“Come on,” Sylus practically growled, his grip on your hand tightening. “We’re leaving.” 

“I– wait, what?” You tried wrenching your arm free from the imposing man’s vice grip, but it was like pulling at Protocore infused shackles. “Sylus, let me go! What about Tara? I can’t leave her here alone.” 

“Luke and Kieran are already on their way. They’ll take her home.” He didn’t look at you as he half-pulled, half-dragged you through the crowd towards the front doors of the club. It took everything in you not to stumble in your heels and sprawl out on the sticky, tile floor, but something told you that even if you did, Sylus would just haul you up and toss you over his shoulder before you made contact with the ground. When the two of you made it outside, the cool air was like a sobering slap to the face, and you blinked rapidly as Sylus released your hand long enough to open the passenger side door of a sleek, black car parked in the front. He gestured stiffly to the seat, “Get in.” 

The flame of rebellion reserved especially for Sylus and his insufferable brand of arrogance roared to life in a split second. Any gratitude you might have felt towards him dissipated into the air like smoke. Your eyes sharpened into something lethal, and your hands curled into fists at your sides as you stood your ground on the sidewalk– silently daring him to physically move you into the car, because you would sooner go head to head with a den of Wanderers before you let yourself be ordered around by him. 

“No.”  

“What if I asked nicely?” 

“No,” you doubled down firmly, your nails biting into the skin of your palms as you beat back the urge to smack him. 

“Kitten,” Sylus’ voice was a low rumble, but the nickname came out as anything but calm. It held a dangerous edge to it, like something akin to thunder sounding before lightning struck. “Now really isn’t the time to show me your claws. Please, get in the car.” 

“Screw you, Sylus. I already said no. I’ll walk–” 

The familiar, cold tendrils of his Evol snaked around your torso, lashing out too fast for you to track or dodge. There was an almost imperceivable tug against your midsection, and the next thing you knew, you were being haphazardly thrown into the car. Any whiplash the motion would have caused was prevented by the red mist that cradled your head. By the time you realized what had happened, Sylus was shutting the door on you and striding around to the driver’s side, ignoring the wary stares from the people outside waiting to be let into the club. 

“Are you out of your mind?” You snapped as soon as he climbed in, and your blood boiled when he wouldn’t even do you the service of looking at you while you raged. “You’re completely out of line! You don’t get to just decide to kidnap me when I’m out with my friends. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?” 

“You’ll get over it,” he muttered, throwing the gear in drive before peeling away from the curb. He spun the car around so quickly that you found yourself leaning uncomfortably against the door, and as he evened out the steering wheel and took off down the street, the erratic motions had you bouncing between the window and the center console. “You might want to buckle up, sweetie.” 

He shot you a sidelong look when you jerked on the seatbelt hard enough for it to lock in place, then snickered when you were forced to be gentler to draw the strap across your lap. “Keep laughing like that and you’ll have to sleep with one eye open tonight,” you muttered, clicking the buckle into place. 

Sylus chuckled softly under his breath, his knuckles blanching white against the steering wheel for a brief moment before he said, “I’m counting on it, kitten.” 

—

Insufferable. Demanding. Egotistical. Infuriatingly charming. Too suave for his own good. All of those terms could be used to describe Sylus, but even then it wasn’t enough. No dictionary in the world had enough words to characterize the man’s personality, and you were positive that if you tried finding one, you would be on the hunt for the rest of your life. 

After arriving at his house in the N109 Zone, you’d bitten his head off for not taking you home. When he had countered with the claim that he’d never specified where he was taking you to begin with, you had thrown your hands in the air and stomped away into the living room, at your wits end for the nth time tonight. He had given you a modicum of space to let you cool off shortly thereafter, until he had reappeared to let you know that Luke and Kieran had dropped Tara off at her house safe and sound. 

That had… helped your mood a little. While Sylus was an exasperating person as a whole, you knew that you could trust him to have your friend delivered home unharmed. Luke and Kieran were reliable too– at least, they were when they weren’t conspiring to get you and their boss into compromising situations.

You had never really forgiven them for setting you up that night you were searching for Sylus’ brooch. If Sylus was the ringmaster of Onychinus, Luke and Kieran were the acrobats bending over backwards to please him. 

“There’s a change of clothes by the bathroom,” Sylus’ gravelly voice sounded from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t bother looking away from the massive bay windows to acknowledge him. “You can go shower if you want. If you’re still adamant about going home afterwards, then I’ll take you.” 

You barked out a humorless laugh, and you saw Sylus narrow his eyes at you in the reflection of the window. “Why so hospitable all of a sudden? You didn’t care about what I wanted when you were hauling me out of the club like a petulant child.” 

“I’m sorry, are we forgetting the part where I got rid of the human scum that was yanking you around like a dog on a leash?” 

You dumbly shook your head, baffled and bewildered that he had justifications ready to dish out after behaving so boorishly. “While I appreciate that you intervened, I had it under control.”

One second he was across the room glaring at the back of your head. The next, he was inches away from you, peering down at you like an ominous shadow with predatory intent plastered all over his face. Sylus swiftly captured your hand in his to reveal the tiny row of scratches on your forearm, his gentle ministrations so at odds with his stormy demeanor. He cocked a brow at you and condescendingly said, “You and I have very different definitions of what ‘under control’ means, kitten.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, easily withdrawing your arm back to your side. “It’s not like he could have done anything serious. We had people all around us, and security would have come over eventually–”

“For future reference, don’t rely on drunk patrons to protect you. I expected better from a Linkon Hunter. You have no idea what that man wanted with you and your friend.” 

“Oh, and you do?”

“Yes.”

That one word from Sylus made you pause, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and your face crinkled in confusion as you processed the meaning behind his declaration. “You… Did you use your Evol?”

Not the least bit ashamed at having been caught, Sylus turned away from you to look out the floor to ceiling window. “He may as well have been screaming his desires with how loud his thoughts were. What he wanted was vile,” he stated roughly, “and he would have gotten it whether you were a willing participant or not.” 

The silence that filled the living room was deafening, and you nervously looked down to the floor as you shifted your weight between your feet. To hear the real reason why Sylus had felt the need to intervene… it explained the cold-blooded expression you’d seen on his face. Moreover, you were glad that he hadn’t left like he had said he would. 

Should you apologize? It felt wrong to just ignore the fact that Sylus could very well have saved your life tonight, and Tara’s by extension. He was as stubborn and headstrong as they came, but he wasn’t a monster. He had protected you countless times before now, and despite your brain’s unwillingness to fully agree, you had a sneaking suspicion that the crime lord had a soft spot for you. You’d come to terms with that fact a long time ago. At the very least, you felt like you owed him a sincere apology for being such a brat in the face of his kindness. 

If it could even be called that. 

Your mouth opened so those two little words could slip free and ease the weight that had settled on your shoulders, but Sylus’ finger stopped you. The slender digit pressed against your lips and prevented you from saying anything, and you looked up at him through your lashes as you blinked slowly in confusion. 

“Go clean up. We can talk more after, if you’d like.” 

The softness of his voice coupled with the tenderness of his gaze compelled you to listen. No retorts, no witty one-liners, no arguments formed on your tongue. For the first time since knowing him, you weren’t in the mood to butt heads or deny him. 

So you listened. 

—

He was waiting for you when you finished in the bathroom. 

Maybe it was more appropriate to say that he’d simply retired to his room after waiting for nearly an hour. After all, you were technically using his shower. The gray cotton pajamas that had been left for you on the bathroom counter were soft, thin, and fit like a glove. You had taken a good minute to relish in the comfortable feeling of them before slipping out of the steam filled chamber. 

Sylus was thumbing over the collection of records on the shelf when you emerged, his broad back to you as he thoughtfully debated on which one to play. He made no move to acknowledge your presence, but you already knew he had heard you walk out of the bathroom. He was too perceptive to overlook anyone sneaking up on him. 

Padding over to the bed, you sat down on the edge of the mattress and mulled over the countless different things you could say to him. ‘I’m sorry’ was seemingly the most prudent. There was also the ‘thank you’ route, which wasn’t a bad option considering he had made sure Tara made it home safely in addition to coming to your aide. Part of you even wanted to ask why he cared to go so far out of his way for you when you were merely… well, you. Sure, your paths had intertwined some time ago, and he had helped you out in choppy situations a few times before. But at the end of the day, the two of you couldn’t be more different, and it wasn’t like you’d made it easy for him to get to know you. 

Why did he care to help you? 

You could already hear his possible responses playing in your mind. He would probably say something like “I protect my investments,” or “You have a habit of looking so pitiful, I can’t help myself”. Something that would affirm that you were important to him while still keeping you at arm’s length. This cat and mouse game you had going with him was maddening, and you were starting to lose your grip on what was real and what was a facade. 

“If you think any harder, you’re going to hurt yourself, kitten.” 

Sylus’ voice drew you back into the present moment, and you glanced towards him in time to watch him slide a vinyl case off the shelf before carefully thumbing the packaging open. His captivating red eyes landed on you as he deposited the disk onto the record player, effortlessly dropping the needle down without so much as blinking. An almost bewitching melody filled the room, and then Sylus was setting down the case to walk towards you, his stride slow and purposeful. Stopping a few inches away from you, he delicately picked up a strand of your damp hair to coil around his finger as he raked his eyes over your body. 

The pajamas he’d chosen were definitely meant for hot nights, that was for sure. The soft, gossamer shorts left nearly all of your legs on display. Nevermind the racy neckline of the matching, lace-lined tank top. All in all, you were wearing more skin than you were clothes. 

“I was thinking,” you started to say, tilting your chin up to meet his unyielding stare. “I owe you an apology.” 

One perfectly groomed brow quirked up in response. “Oh?”

“I know I can be stubborn sometimes–” 

“The understatement of the century,” he mused thoughtfully. 

“Shush, I need to say this.” You sighed before pressing on undaunted, your tone hardening, “That being said, I’d be ungrateful if I didn’t acknowledge that I was out of my element tonight. I honestly don’t know if things would have gone the way you said they would, but even so I can see now that I wasn’t in a state of mind to properly protect myself or Tara. Your methods were… unorthodox, but you being there was appreciated, and I’m sorry that I snapped at you.” 

Sylus was quiet for a few seconds, taking in your words with an almost serene expression on his face. His thumb traced over the strand of your hair around his finger, then let it slip away to caress the side of your cheek with his knuckles. Your breathing hitched– startled by the gesture– but you made no move to pull away or stop him. It was rare for you to be able to perceive him so… openly. 

His voice was low, barely a whisper as he murmured, “You never have to thank me for the things I do. Especially not for tonight.” 

The way he grazed your cheekbone with his fingertips before tracing the outline of your jaw had your mouth firmly sealed. If you tried to speak, you already knew your voice would come out pitifully small. It had nothing to do with feeling small, however. The utter longing in Sylus’ gaze coupled with the almost reverent way he touched your face made you feel… important. He was looking at you like you were the only thing he cared about within the four walls, which was saying something when you stopped to consider all the valuables and collectables he kept hidden away in his bedroom. 

But you didn’t stop to think. Not really. Your brain was mercifully silent as you studied his eyes, his posture, his lips. Something had shifted between the two of you, and you didn’t know if you were eager or scared to discover what that meant. Sylus’ thumb slid over your lips, his touch featherlight as well as chill-inducing. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable as the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half smirk. 

“Let tonight be a lesson to you, kitten; never let your guard down around anyone,” his gaze flickered from your face to your chest, then lazily swept down the rest of your seated form. “Especially not when you’re out for a night on the town looking like the human embodiment of temptation.” 

“Temptation?” You echoed dumbly, and Sylus shook his head to himself as he laughed softly. 

“Don’t tell me you were completely oblivious to how you looked in the middle of the club earlier. I’ll admit, the amount of eyes you had on you made me… twitchy. I should burn that dress to cinders, but then I’d never get to see you in it again.” 

You blinked in surprise, a tingling warmth spreading from your chest all the way down your torso before settling between your legs. “I– you liked it?” 

It should have made you laugh the way Sylus had to bend down so much to put his eyes at the same level as yours, but humor had flown right out the fucking window the second he started caressing your face. His blatant desire burned you, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Red eyes bored into yours, and his face was close enough that you could see the darker shade of red that rimmed his irises. Being so up close and personal with his lips also made thinking difficult, but the one thought you managed to cling onto was how soft they looked, and how much you wanted to feel them against yours. 

This man was quickly becoming your undoing, and you truly didn’t think you had it in you to fight against your baser urges. 

“I liked the dress,” Sylus said huskily, his fingers leaving your face to ghost down the side of your neck. “I liked your heels, and I definitely liked your dancing.” His fingers moved to curl around the back of your neck, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him so that his breath fanned across your cheeks as his eyes eagerly fell to your lips. “Would you be offended if I said I like you?” 

The shallow breath you drew into your lungs was like music to Sylus’ ears, and you felt his hand stiffen against the nape of your neck as he awaited your response. Formulating words was a bit of a challenge, however, seeing as all you could focus on was the unrepentant fantasies that were currently bombarding your brain. You wanted him bad, and the wet heat ravaging your lower body was a testament to that fact. 

“I’m going to need an answer, sweetie,” Sylus purred, all too pleased with the way you seemed to unconsciously move your face closer to his. “Or am I meant to read your mind to find out for myself?”

“I’m not offended,” your response was airy– barely a whisper– but Sylus heard you loud and clear, and he grinned wickedly as his grip on your neck tightened. “I think I like you too.” 

“It’s about time.” 

Those three little words came out roughly, but you hardly got the chance to dwell on the gravelly timbre to Sylus’ voice. His lips were on yours in the next second, stealing your breath and igniting a fire in your veins that threatened to burn you from the inside out. Every one of your senses was overcome with Sylus; his smokey scent, the throaty moan he let slip, the feeling of his fingers burying themselves in your still damp hair. You heard him kick off his shoes without breaking away, and then you felt the mattress dip under his weight as he supported himself over you with one of his knees. Looming above you, you were entirely at his mercy as he used the newfound angle to his advantage, sweeping his tongue along the roof of your mouth as he devoured the minuscule sounds that emanated from you. You cautiously wrapped your significantly smaller hand around his thick wrist, drawing him close enough into your space that you had to lean back on the bed to accommodate his larger frame. 

“The things you do to me,” Sylus rumbled, leaning his head to the side to trail hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck, flicking his tongue against your pulse with a low hum. “So unbelievably perfect. You have no idea what I want to do to you.” 

Emboldened by his praise, you let your hands rest on his narrow waist so your nails could dig into the silky fabric of his dress shirt. “Show me, then,” you replied, turning your head so you could stare up at him as your teeth began to bite at your swollen bottom lip. 

In a flash, Sylus had moved off of you to wedge his arms under your armpits, effortlessly hoisting you off the edge of the bed so he could better toss you towards the mountain of pillows near the headboard. A surprised yelp sounded from you as your ass made contact with the smooth, satin sheets, and you watched blearily as Sylus deftly began undoing the top buttons of his shirt with one hand as his eyes raked over you. “You don’t have any idea what kind of effect you have on me, do you? You drive me crazy and you’re none the wiser to it. Ignorance really is bliss, huh?”

“I–” you didn’t know what to say or where to look, especially once the muscled expanse of his chest started to show itself. “I’m sorry?” 

Chuckling darkly, Sylus finished off the remaining clasps on his shirt and shrugged the attire off, tossing it somewhere near the record player before making his way to the side of the bed. “Actions speak louder than words, kitten. Why don’t you show me just how sorry you are?” His hands gestured towards his belt in an unspoken question, and while it took you a second to figure out what it was that he wanted, you were quick to shuffle towards him to get started once your brain caught up. “So eager to please… I’m impressed.” 

You ignored his teasing to the best of your ability. Cold feet wouldn’t serve you well now– not when every fiber of your being was heated with blatant arousal. The urge to please him, to pleasure him, to drive him to further madness, was overwhelming. Nimble as a cat, you undid his belt and let the metal buckle fall away with a resounding clink. The catch of his pants went next, and you made sure to glance up at him through your lashes as you slowly dragged the zipper down, reveling in the lust-filled gaze he fixed you with. 

Sylus let you do the majority of the work, only deigning to lend you a hand when you struggled to pull his pants down over the swell of his rear. A throaty laugh sounded from above you when your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at the sight of his briefs. The unmistakable outline of his girth was apparent through the dark fabric, and fuck– was he big. 

How the hell was that supposed to fit anywhere inside you? 

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Sylus taunted, his index finger and thumb coming to grip your chin and tilt your head up at him. “Just take it slow. I’ll talk you through it.” 

All his promise did was give you butterflies. You swallowed thickly, nodding as he released you so you could turn back to the task at hand. Almost hesitantly you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his dark undergarments, taking care to let your hands graze the delectable ‘V’ of his lower stomach before you pulled them down and revealed inch after inch of his insane member. You couldn’t help it that your mouth fell open at the sight. 

Sylus’ cock wasn’t just big, it was thick. The sheer weight of it fought against its erect nature and had it drooping menacingly before your parted lips. The shiny, red tip was already oozing pre-cum, causing it to glimmer as it reflected the dim overhead lighting. A sparse collection of darker, neatly trimmed hair surrounded his shaft, and you unconsciously found your nails scraping gently through it before you took him in your hands. Even with both of the appendages working together to grip him, there was still ample space left untouched and exposed, and you licked your lips before glancing up at the silver haired man with expectant eyes. 

Sylus still looked surprisingly put together despite the circumstances, but the way his chest rose and fell quicker than normal spoke volumes of his excitement. His red eyes glittered with anticipation, and one of his large hands carded through your hair before gripping the strands firmly enough to maneuver your cheek directly against his throbbing manhood. He sighed as soon as your skin made contact with it, gently moving you around by your tresses until his tip bumped against your lips. 

“Open,” came his sultry command. 

With nowhere else to go you heeded his instruction and stuck your tongue out, ready and willing for whatever he had planned for you. He let you guide his cock into the warm, inviting prison that was your mouth, and without any further pointers from him, you took him as far as you could before you felt the head bumping the back of your throat. The urge to gag came and went quickly as you hollowed your cheeks around your mouthful, and the ragged sound Sylus let slip conveyed his approval well enough. 

It was a tad difficult to crane your neck back to sneak a glance at him, but from what you could see, he was breathing heavily and looking down at you with wonder. “You’re quite the little minx, aren’t you?” 

You hummed your confirmation, the vibrations from the action making the hand in your hair squeeze tighter around the strands, and the soft curse that emanated from him was like music to your ears. 

“Fuck– slowly now, keep your tongue out and mind your teeth. Tap my leg if you need to stop, alright kitten?” 

Stopping was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, but you dipped your head just enough to let him know you were in agreement. Sylus cupped the underside of your jaw with his free hand while the other stayed firmly rooted in your hair– fully in control of your head from that moment forward– and you allowed for your hands to slip away from the base of his cock so you could brace your palms on his toned thighs. His first few thrusts were meant to test your resolve, seeing as they were shallow and relatively wary. Your jaw stayed slack throughout all of it though, and you even took it upon yourself to tense and untense your tongue as he plunged in and out. 

“Damn,” Sylus groaned as his eyes fell shut, the euphoric sensations prompting him to increase his pace ever so slightly. Your nails scraped against the skin of his thighs as you curled your hands into loose fists, the sordid, wet sounds of your mouth making your face flush with barely there embarrassment. “That’s it, darling. You’re doing great.” 

With his fingers wrapped under your jaw, the placement of his digits allowed you to become acutely aware of the bulge in your throat. Sylus’ cock edged deeper and deeper into your mouth with every pump of his hips, and when a strangled, choking sound finally broke free from your stuffed mouth, Sylus laughed darkly before opening his eyes to turn his attention back to you. 

“I wish you could see yourself right now.” Sylus emphasized the statement with a harsher buck of his hips, the head of his cock sliding past the back of your throat and reaching far enough that you felt it near the top of your esophagus. Your eyes pinched shut as tears welled up within them, then flew open as the man above you withdrew his shaft nearly all the way to give you the chance to breathe. Greedy gulps of air were sucked down immediately, followed by a harsh cough that forced the pooling tears in your eyes to cascade down your cheeks. “You make one hell of a pretty picture, sweetie. I’ll have to keep a camera on hand next time.” 

“C-Can I try?” You rasped out the question as you worked to catch your breath, and the amusement that lit up Sylus’ features was enough to harden your determination. 

He released the underside of your jaw and affectionately brushed a few strands of hair out of your face before dropping his hands entirely. “By all means. Show me what tricks you’ve got up your sleeve, Miss Hunter.” 

You weren’t inexperienced by any means, but the impressive size of Sylus had you reevaluating everything you’d ever learned. A blow job was a blow job, however, and you were certain that your enthusiasm would help cover any blind spots that would no doubt appear. 

Sylus watched with anticipation as you took him back in your hands and smiled up at him, resting the heavy head of his cock between your lips before you pursed them to press a warm, messy kiss to the sensitive tip. The tiny, evil glint in your tear-stained eyes clued him in on just how badly you yearned to make him crumble, and for probably the first time in his life, Sylus couldn’t wait to see someone try to knock him down a peg or two. 

With your eyes still glued to him, you slipped your tongue out and ran it slowly over the slit before curling the muscle around the swollen head with a soft sigh, gently stroking him once, then twice. You twisted your wrist slightly as you opened your mouth again to suck wetly at the pre-cum beading before your eyes, laving your tongue over the head hard enough for Sylus’ eyes to narrow for the briefest of moments. His hands clenched at his side, the insatiable urge to fuck into your mouth again taking over him, but he refrained from interrupting your show through sheer force of will alone. 

You smiled coyly up at him, entirely aware of the larger man’s internal struggle, and slowly slid his cock back into your mouth so your lips sealed right over the head as you sucked. It was wet and messy and noisy, and Sylus couldn’t help the way he twitched forward for more as a string of broken curses fell from his lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you tilted your head to the side to mouth down Sylus’ length, sucking gently and soothing your tongue over the warm flesh as you went, and if the feeling and the sight of you wasn’t enough to leave Sylus a panting, eager mess, the slick sounds of your mouth would fucking do it for him. He kept his hands off but groaned loudly, trying his best to indicate that you should absolutely keep doing exactly that. 

His head fell back between his tense shoulders as he let out a low, rumbling moan, shivering when you curled your tongue around the underside of his cock and breathed a soft chuckle against him. You worked to stroke the parts of him that your lips weren’t worshiping, and the smooth, even touches were made even smoother by the copious amounts of saliva and pre-cum that already soaked his shaft. Sylus’ leg twitched minutely, his knee banging against the side of the bed frame, but all he could feel was your soft lips at the base of his cock followed by an agile twist around the slick head, smearing all the combined moisture around blindingly. He didn’t think it could get any better than that, but once you dipped your head low enough to take the skin of his balls into your mouth and suck delicately, Sylus was fighting to keep his head out of the clouds, because the sensation was absolutely otherworldly. 

“Fuck,” came Sylus’ garbled, gritted voice, his stomach tensing as his hands finally returned to your mussed hair. “Alright, you’ve proven your point, kitten.”

Hardly, you thought. You ignored the high strung edge to his voice and continued your ministrations, wrapping your lips around the head and taking him as deep as you could before you swallowed, and when Sylus choked on a rough gasp in response, you withdrew slowly, using the tip of your tongue to press along the underside of his cock. Sylus desperately wanted to stop you, because the last thing he had anticipated was cutting all the fun short by finishing in your mouth of all places– but then your tongue swirled around the tip again while you stroked every wet, exposed inch– and his fingers tightened around your strands of hair as he fought the urge to shove his cock back into the welcoming embrace of your mouth. 

He didn’t think it was possible for such a tiny thing to have such a dexterous tongue. There was simply no way anything born of this Earth could possibly be this versatile. 

“Enough,” Sylus growled abruptly, willing his brain to supersede his baser urges as he promptly pulled you off of him by your hair. The sting from the motion made you gasp, but the pleasure that came with being so easily manhandled quickly overshadowed the pain, and your hooded eyes drank in the sight of Sylus as you breathed in deeply. 

Red eyes hazy and unfocused, chest rising and falling rapidly, and a pretty flush you’d never seen before sneaking up his neck and spreading across his cheeks and ears. Oh yeah, you thought, he was definitely getting close. 

“Don’t look so smug,” Sylus rumbled, the slight strain in his voice barely noticeable. But you were a Linkon City Hunter, and being perceptive was technically a job requirement, so you absolutely took note of it. You couldn’t help but grin– awfully proud of yourself for riling him up this way– and let go of his cock to brace yourself on your arms as you leaned back. 

“Sorry, I just really liked the face you were making.” 

His eyes narrowed in an unspoken challenge, and before you could so much as blink, his larger body was covering the bulk of yours as he hoisted you back up the mattress so you were leaning against the throne of pillows once again. Red tendrils of his Evol aided him in the removal of your shirt, the lacy attire vanishing from view as he crawled backwards just enough so he could slip his fingers under the waistband of your pajama shorts before he said, “I hope it was worth it, because now it’s my turn to see what kinds of faces you’ll make, sweetie.” 

The effect his words had on you could have honestly been deemed concerning, and the pure bolt of arousal that shot through you when he started to drag your pants off without breaking eye contact was like nothing you had ever felt before. As soon as he had tossed your bottoms to the floor to join his own pile of clothing, he wasted little time in settling between your outstretched legs, wrapping one of his thick forearms over your waist to hold you in place as a devious expression spread across his face. 

“Try to hold still for me,” he breathed out softly. You opened your mouth to reply, but your words got cut off the second one of his fingers slid along your slit and pressed against your clit, wringing a strangled gasp from you as you inadvertently bucked your hips up into his touch. He tutted disapprovingly, “That’s the exact opposite of holding still.” 

“I–” another gasp filled the room as Sylus took to drawing languid circles around the bundle of nerves between your legs, the accumulated moisture there making the action effortless and positively heavenly. It took an insane amount of restraint to keep your hips still despite the blissful torment, your breathing becoming increasingly erratic as Sylus played with you, testing your reactions and pushing your limits as though your body was a new toy he was trying out. Your nails dug into your palms in an attempt to ground yourself, your bottom lip throbbing as you savaged it with your teeth. 

As soon as Sylus’ mouth appeared against your entrance, there was no stopping the unconscious jerk of your hips against his face. His muffled laughter against you didn’t help matters, and you wheezed shakily as you grabbed for a fistful of the sheets with one hand while slapping the other over your mouth. Keening, desperate little moans slipped through your fingers, Sylus’ tongue reducing you to a brainless pile of limbs faster than you could process. The tense muscle probed and swept inside of you while his thumb rubbed maddeningly over your clit, the dual stimulation borderline torturous, and your stifled groan drew Sylus’ attention as he increased the tempo of his tongue. 

The arm draped across your waist extended in the next second, and you felt as the silver haired man grabbed for the hand covering your mouth. You let him pull your arm down to your side, his palm tracing down your heated skin until it reached your own, and then he was intertwining your fingers together to hold the limb there. His lips left your core for the briefest of moments, just long enough for him to murmur breathlessly, “Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me, kitten. I want to hear all of it.” 

It should have been anatomically impossible, but you somehow managed to flush even deeper than before. Sylus kept his eyes on you as he returned to licking and sucking at your soaked center, his pupils blown wide and completely dilated as he worked to tear the most sinful, desperate noises from your scratchy throat. He truly looked like some kind of irresistible sex demon– risen from the depths of Hell to torment you and reduce you to a brainless, twitching mess of a human– and God was he succeeding. You were torn between wanting it all to end with your release and simultaneously wanting it to continue forever. 

The idea of staying here for the rest of eternity was not an unpleasant one. Not in the slightest. 

Sylus’ thumb vanished from your swollen nub, replaced almost immediately by his mouth as he sucked the tender bit of flesh between his lips, and the cry that ripped from your chest was unlike any sound you had ever heard yourself make. Your spine arched clean off the mattress, your hips pressing against Sylus’ face so forcefully that you were certain you had to be suffocating him, but as you tried to writhe away from the overwhelming ecstasy, Sylus clenched your hand tight in his and held you firmly where you were. 

“Fuck– Sylus, please, please,” you babbled mindlessly, the tight, hot feeling in your lower stomach roaring to life as he teased his tongue over the small bit of flesh held firm between his soft lips. “I–I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna come–” 

The euphoric rush within your body was more powerful than any Aether Core. It was dazzling. Your muscles tensed, your mouth fell open, your eyes squeezed shut, and your hips bucked harshly against Sylus’ unrelenting mouth as an orgasm unlike any you had ever experienced washed over you. The sound of your hoarse voice dimly registered in your ears as you came, and you faintly realized that you were screaming– but there was nothing in the world that could interrupt the extraterrestrial experience you were currently living through– so your voice reverberated off the walls of the room until you were wholly and truly out of breath. 

When you finally sagged back into the mattress, Sylus had eased up the intensity of his ministrations, much to his credit. His tongue made one final plunge into your wet walls to lap up the evidence of your pleasure before he pulled away entirely, and all you could do was tremble beneath him as he pushed himself up onto his knees. 

He made no move to release your hand as he crawled over you, instead lifting and pinning the joined appendages beside your head before he dipped down to passionately kiss you. Sylus growled savagely as he swallowed up your pitiful mewling, every tiny sound you made fueling something deep inside of him. Trapped under him with nowhere to go, you were entirely at his mercy as his free hand came to slip under your neck in an attempt to deepen the kiss impossibly further. Sylus forced more of his tongue into your mouth and imbued you with the taste of yourself, humming thoughtfully when he felt your nails dig into the back of his hand, at which point he pulled back to stare down at you.

“I should count myself lucky that I have no neighbors this deep in the N109 Zone. I wouldn’t be surprised if you scared Mephisto off with that scream.” 

“Screw,” you panted harshly in-between the words, “that bird.” 

His hand clenched around the nape of your neck as a wicked smile stretched across his face. “You’re actually screwing me, in case you’ve forgotten. Or is your head still somewhere above the clouds?” 

Leave it to Sylus and his smartassery bring you back down to Earth. “One of these days someone is going to cut out your mocking tongue,” you grumbled under your breath, though there was no genuine animosity in the statement. 

Sylus only laughed, his red eyes twinkling with amusement and pure male satisfaction. “If that someone is you, I think I can rest easy. You seem to like my tongue far too much for that to be a viable threat.” 

“…Touché.” 

His lips resumed their relaxed exploration of yours, bestowing a few quick pecks to the corners of your mouth before he peppered a trail of kisses along your jaw, bumping your head to the side with his own as he went. His warm breath fanned across your sweat-slick skin as he sanguinely said, “I think you’ll like the other parts of me, too.” 

On cue, you felt the hard length of him settle against your thigh as he continued to press his lips against your thundering pulse, your hand coming to grip his firm bicep as arousal buzzed through you. Not a shred of doubt existed within you as you hummed your approval, angling your head to the side to give Sylus more room to lick a broad stripe down the column of your neck. You wanted more, and you were well past the point of pretending you weren’t keenly interested in experiencing everything the leader of Onychinus had to offer. 

In an act of complete and utter depravity, Sylus began rocking his hips against your thigh to rub his cock against your heated skin as he unabashedly groaned into the crook of your neck. You felt his sharp teeth clamp down on the skin above your clavicle before he sucked lightly, laving his tongue over the little bit of flesh he managed to latch on to. The barely there sting was more pleasant than anything, and you sighed contentedly when you felt him move higher to repeat the motion on another patch of unmarred skin. 

A small, needy sound came from deep within your chest when Sylus abandoned his hold on the back of your neck to feel his way down your prone body, your eyes falling shut as you relished in his gentle fondling. You felt his fingers graze over your collarbone, then over the hardened peaks of your breasts, before settling between your legs once again. His touch against your clit was slow and testing, prompting you to lean your head back with a quiet gasp as you rocked your hips into Sylus’ hand. The movement played into Sylus’ steady rocking nicely– your pelvis elevating and sliding against his cock easily– and the low-pitched groan of approval he met you with had you smiling softly to yourself.

When Sylus pushed his finger into you again, you bit your lip at the same time he pulled his mouth off of your neck. You opened your bleary eyes to peer up at him, only to find that he was watching you with a tender sort of reverence. You flushed brightly under his flustering gaze, suddenly incredibly bashful at having him watch you so closely even though his mouth had just been ravaging your most intimate area– but despite that fact, you found yourself angling your face to the side in an attempt to hide your reactions. 

“Oh no,” Sylus uttered, a lone tendril of his Evol snaking out to turn your face back to him. “No hiding, kitten. I don’t intend on missing a single one of the pretty expressions you make.”

As though to punctuate the statement, Sylus curled his finger inside of you up– just enough that he found the spot he’d been searching for– and his efforts pulled a strangled moan from you at the same time your hips jolted against his palm. “Sylus, I– hng–” 

Your pleading was cut short by Sylus adding a second finger before he repeated the motion, taking care to slowly rub the pads of his fingers across that same spot over and over again, evidently drawing immense satisfaction in watching you wriggle and twitch under him. That damnable smirk of his showed itself once more as he pressed into the spot more insistently, his eyes devouring every inch of you as your stomach tensed and your toes curled, a telling warmth bleeding through your chest and coiling its way down between your legs. 

It seemed impossible for any one person to be so good at this. Then again, this was Sylus, and you were fairly positive finding people’s weak points was something of a speciality of his. 

The fact that your weak point was buried knuckle deep inside of you was irrelevant. 

As Sylus continued to rub little circles over your sweet spot, he lowered his head once more to work yet another dark bruise into your skin, silently filing away the mental image of your body tensing and arching beneath him for later. The sight of you alone was enough to leave him breathless, but as nice as the imagery was, what really got to him were the sweet, gorgeous sounds of your voice. Your lips parted around quivering moans, tiny gasps slipping through every now and then, and your stammering pleas filled the quiet air around him and imbued him with a newfound sense of urgency. 

Sylus had always loved the sound of your voice, but hearing what it was like when it was hitched and raspy, repeating his name like a mantra… he knew then that there was no better sound in the world. It would be all too easy for him to become addicted to it– to you. 

As your whines became more urgent, your hips practically riding his fingers as he brought you close to the edge for a second time, Sylus couldn’t help but feel a sense of male pride. He was the one pulling those noises from you. He was the one you were calling out for, the one you were trusting to take you higher, to hold you and kiss you and make you feel good. He was the one making a noisy little wreck of you and branding you like he was born to do it. 

He needed more. Sylus needed to feel you from the inside out, and the way his cock twitched in response to the thought was all the motivation he needed to withdraw his fingers from your soaked heat. 

You were positively wrecked already– gorgeously so– with your eyes glazed and unfocused, your lips parted freely around beautiful moans and brainless praises, breathless whines of Sylus’ name escaping you alongside the rattling breaths you sucked down. He almost hated that he was interrupting when he murmured, “What do you think, sweetie? Think you’re ready for me?” 

Your eyelids fluttered as your brain returned to the present moment, having completely spaced in lieu of Sylus’ never ending finger torture. Scrubbing a hand down your face, you rasped out, “F-Fuck, yeah, I’ve been ready. You’re the masochist drawing this out.” 

Sylus laughed– the sound deep and rich– before pushing himself up and sitting back on his heels, the heavy head of his cock dragging over your impossibly wet entrance as he got settled. He finally let go of your hand to maneuver you exactly where he wanted you, your knees resting on either side of him as he gripped your waist with fiendish strength. 

“It’s not masochism, sweetie,” he purred, sliding his rock hard member up and down your slit to further tease you. “I’m being attentive. There’s a difference.” 

Sylus’ idea of being ‘attentive’ bordered dangerously close to persecution, because you were hanging on by a sliver of a thread after all his prep work. You swallowed thickly and wriggled your hips against his solid manhood, aiming to drive him into action before you lost your mind entirely. “I’ve been spoiled more than enough. If you’re any more attentive, the sun will start peeking through the blinds.” 

“Would that be so bad?” Sylus pressed the blunt head of his cock against your hole, not pressing in yet, but applying enough pressure that your heart rate quickened in your chest. “If I have any say in the matter, we’ll be seeing the sunrise regardless.” 

In one quick, fluid motion, Sylus effortlessly rolled his hips forward and pressed into your fluttering walls, a throaty growl reverberating within his chest as he was overcome with your unbelievable heat. The abrupt intrusion was far from unpleasant, but it was sudden enough that your mouth fell open around loud, stuttering moans, your eyes rolling back in your head as Sylus gingerly worked more of himself into you. Your hands scrambled for purchase against the silky sheets in an effort to compose yourself, and by the time he was sheathed nearly all the way within your core, your patience had evaporated. 

The size of him was insane. You could feel every inch of him, every vein that lined his incredible length, and the way he pulsed against your walls reignited the flame of desire that burned in your blood. 

“Sylus– God– Sylus,” you wheezed, tilting your head back as you forced yourself to relax your muscles. Rocking your hips up in search of stimulation wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. You needed to get fucked through the bed. You needed Sylus to plow you like the fucking world was ending, and the visceral want that coursed through you was so strong that you wanted to cry. 

Sylus groaned your name, the combined effect of you calling for him and the feeling of your absolutely drenched cunt sucking him in deeper making his goddamn head spin. He wanted to be gentle– to let you get acclimated before he went any further– because it wasn’t egotistical for him to acknowledge that he was big compared to you. But when he felt the heel of your foot press against his lower back, silently urging him to move, his reservations dissipated into the night like vapor. He knew what you wanted, and being the thoughtful, quick learner that he was, there was nothing holding him back from giving it to you. 

“No God here, kitten.” Sylus rewarded you with a deep, grinding thrust that left you frantic with hunger. “It’s just me, and you’re being so good for me.”

Before you even had time flush with embarrassment, Sylus gripped your thigh with one of his hands and braced himself over you with the other, then pulled out nearly all the way before ramming his cock back into you. 

Your shrill voice echoed off the walls of the bedroom, and your spine rounded clear off the mattress as you half whined, half screamed in ecstasy. 

Every slam of Sylus’ hips knocked the breath out of your lungs, his powerful, cervix kissing thrusts leaving you winded as you blindly gathered a fistful of satin sheets in your trembling hands. His brutal rhythm never faltered as he pounded into you with inhuman stamina, breathing loud moans of your name while a mix of concentration and pure bliss settled over his stunning features. Lost in the throes of rapture, you could barely find the brainpower to appreciate the sight of him above you, but you sure as hell tried. 

Sylus’ muscles rippled with power as he held himself over you and pumped his hips; his abdomen undulated, his shoulders tensed, and his lower half moved in a way you could only describe as wave-like. It was too much, and yet you couldn’t get enough of it. Every time he would withdraw his cock and leave you nearly empty, another toe curling thrust would follow, the force of his hips connecting against your ass jolting you up the bed until you were bracing your hands on the headboard, pushing back against him desperately. 

Entranced by your attempts, Sylus let you move back against him for a few beats– just enough to appreciate how your ass bounced against his pale hips– until the urge to take you over again completely filled him. He groaned, low and savage, and released his hold on your thigh to slide his hand under the curve of your spine, pressing you against him hard enough that you could barely move at all. Your whimpered protest fell on deaf ears, and Sylus hauled you back down the bed to pin you under him with his upper body in an act of complete possession, and you were almost tempted to pray when you heard his animalistic growl against your ear. 

Sylus leaned his weight onto the hand braced against the mattress before fucking into you harder, faster, his long thrusts switching to deep, hammering ruts that drove the swollen head of his cock against your sweet spot so fast and so precisely that it damn near knocked you out. If you could use words at all anymore, you would have warned Sylus that you were about to come. There was no fucking way you couldn’t– not when you were so full of his cock, your throat raw from sucking him off earlier and from screaming. You were being held down and fucked like you were Sylus’ personal toy, his nails scratching at your back as his hand curled into a fist in his efforts to hold you closer to him. 

“You feel–” Sylus gritted through his teeth, the deep tenor of his voice making you clench around him impossibly further, “–so fucking incredible.” 

All you could manage was a broken stammer, “S-Sylus, I’m– I’m–” 

The soft strands of his hair brushed across your cheek as Sylus’ face loomed directly over yours, and when you blinked up at him with glassy, unfocused eyes, his one command threatened to bring tears to your eyes. 

“Don’t even think about coming.” 

Your noisy, incoherent pleas were ignored as Sylus continued to dominate you. Somehow in the midst of railing you through the bed, he moved his hand away from your back to dexterously maneuver your bent legs up, hooking them over his shoulders before bracing his weight on his forearm, and the result was catastrophic in the best possible way. Every inch of your body was vibrating, the pleasure mounting in your lower stomach driving you to abandon your hold on the sheets so you could rake your nails down Sylus’ shoulders. Fighting against the urge to finish was nigh impossible, your focus shifting to the feeling of his muscles working to fuck you as well as the enticing sound of skin slapping against skin. 

Your vision was blurring. Your legs were quaking so violently that you were surprised Sylus wasn’t shaking along with them. He laughed wickedly as he took in the sight of you beneath him, dragging his free hand down to feel around your body for something. Through the haze of it all, you didn’t realize what he was searching for until you felt his fingers on your clit, and the sound that left your mouth wasn’t one that you’d ever thought you could make. 

He wasn’t just a masochist, he was a fucking sadist. 

Your head snapped back against the bed as you wailed desolately, your begging and pleading reduced to shaky iterations of “Pleasepleaseplease” as the pain from being on edge for so long drove you to madness. Overwhelmed tears streaked down your temples, frustration and desperation and too much fucking pleasure twining together with the sharp ache of holding back. Every one of the sensations that wracked your body pooled into an immense rush of stimulation that had you moaning out a string of incomprehensible curses, until finally Sylus decided to have mercy on you. 

“Eyes on me, kitten. Show me what you look like coming on my cock.” 

He didn’t have to tell you twice. 

Sylus’ finger flicked over your now tender bundle of nerves once, twice, and then the world went white around you. You could dimly register Sylus’ gravely moans as he watched you crumble, his brows pinched with focus as he drank in the sight of your lips parting around a rattling gasp, his rough thrusting never letting up. It was so good– better than anything you had ever imagined– and your body trembled violently as Sylus’ movements became more erratic, but all you could pay any attention to was the blistering heat that flowed through your veins. 

Amidst the exultation of your release, you felt Sylus’ hand return to yours, your fingers interlacing in a contrasting act of tenderness as his thrusts became shallower, his breathing turning heavier. He committed the expression on your face to memory instantly, and it took everything in him to savor every second of your fluttering walls sucking him in deeper before he was coming too– one last powerful thrust finding its mark. Thick, hot release filled you, the added sensation bringing you higher than you thought possible, and Sylus groaned appreciatively as he ground his hips against your ass to milk every last drop into you.  

You were still catching your breath when Sylus finally stilled his movements, his haggard panting reaching you through the distant buzzing that rang in your ears. There was no way for you to know how long the two of you laid there joined from the waist down, but you knew that it took a good chunk of time before either one of you could think clearly enough to form words. Eventually, his soft hands gripped your calves to guide your legs off his shoulders and towards the mattress, the trembling limbs settling there like dead weight. 

Sylus brushed his fingers against your neck to rouse you from your post-coital state, and when you cracked open your heavy lids to peer up at him, his expression was one of relative amusement. “You alright, sweetie?” 

“Mhm.” You hummed your response, and even though your tongue felt like lead in your mouth, you managed to mumble, “I can’t feel my legs.” 

The sudden bark of laughter that burst from Sylus was something you’d never heard before, and you watched as he shook his head to himself before slowly pulling out of you. Part of you missed the feeling of him stretching you the second he was gone, but a bone deep fatigue that was much stronger than your meager feelings was winning the war of what you deemed important. Your eyelids started to slide shut of their own accord, every muscle in your body going lax as you melted into the bed. 

Sylus watched you with a measure of worship, utterly transfixed by everything about you. He gently skimmed his fingers over your stomach as he moved to settle against the pillows, taking exceptional care not to jostle you too much while he got comfortable. You didn’t seem to think similarly, however, because as soon as you felt his weight ease into the mattress, you were throwing your arm over his broad chest and hitching one of your legs over his, effectively straddling him sideways as if he were your own personal body pillow. 

He laughed softly, moving to cradle you close with one arm while his other moved to lovingly brush your hair out of your eyes. Sighing contentedly, you fixed your eyes on the record player across the room, suddenly overcome with a strange sense of fondness for the Onychinus leader. “You know,” you murmured, your voice slightly muffled against his firm chest. “You’re not what I expected, Sylus.” 

“Hm? What exactly were you expecting?” 

The cautious edge to his voice told you that he was prepared to hear the worst, but you surprised him by rolling your head to the side to plant a chaste kiss right above his heart. “It doesn’t matter. I just know that I wish more people were like you.” 

Sylus smiled, letting his head tip back against the headboard while he used his Evol to turn off the lights, plunging the room into comfortable darkness. “Careful, kitten. Keep up the flattery and I won’t take you home in the morning.” 

Your hand traced lazy shapes against his torso, and the corner of your mouth quirked up as you glanced up at him through your lashes. “I don’t work tomorrow… besides, I seem to remember you saying you’d keep me awake long enough to see the sunrise. Or were those just empty words?” 

A devilish grin stretched across his face as he took your hand in his, pulling you to the side until you were made to roll entirely on top of him so you were straddling his hips. His lower half began to rouse back to life as you settled into place in his lap, and Sylus gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger as his lustful gaze bored into your very soul. “I was going to be nice and let you sleep, but if this is the game you want to play, then I’ll hold true to my word. Any objections?” 

Your fingers wrapped around his thick wrist as you brought your face closer to his, your eyes greedily falling to his lips. It should have worried you how addicted to him you already appeared to be, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Sylus’ cock twitched against you as your gaze rose to meet his, a silent challenge twinkling behind your irises. 

“None at all.” 

“Then it’s a deal.” 

As the night droned on, you came to realize that these were the sorts of promises that you didn’t mind making with him, especially when the sunlight streaming through the curtains hours later conveyed that Sylus had made good on his promise. The break of day didn’t stop him though– not in the slightest. His stamina and vigor remained intact as he dutifully ravished you all through the early hours of the morning, and as you fell apart beneath him once more, the only thing you knew for certain was that it was going to be a long, long weekend.

[lazylittledragon]

ok someone please correct me if i'm wrong but am i weird for thinking those 'audiobooks don't count as reading' posts are ableist as fuck????

[syea-say]

The finale of a never-ending masquerade.

AQ 4.2 spoilers.

[aegonstradwife]

obsession | aegon targaryen x reader

summary: anonymous requested: aegon being obsessed with his new wife, but stuck in council meetings all day. when he finally sees you at night he's always trying to impregnate you and give you as many babies as possible.

warnings: established relationship, smut. (oral, handjob, piv, creampie, impreg.)

a. note: link to the original request.

You and Aegon have only been married a week, and already even a day away from him feels dull and empty, like a world stripped of all color and joy.

Though you didn't know him well before your betrothal, you've found your new husband to be doting and sweet and quite handsome to boot. To be married to a Targaryen - much less the king - is any highborn girl's dream. They are the rulers, the protectors, of the realm.

But that's hardly what matters to you, when it comes to Aegon.

He may be king, and you now queen, but you find yourself believing you would love your husband even if he were a lowly pauper from Flea Bottom.

And that's why you're now hurrying up to your bedchamber after a long day of entertaining the keep's guests from the riverlands. You've taken tea and other small meals with the visiting lords and ladies all godsdamned day.

All you want now is to see your husband after many long hours away from him.

On his part, Aegon himself has been busy with small council meetings and petitions throughout the day and has been eagerly awaiting your return since he got back to your shared bedchamber and found you still absent.

He's right behind the door when you push it open, stumbling back in pleasant surprise, a flushed grin on his face. "There you are, my sweet," he mutters, taking your hand and drawing you close to him. "I heard your footsteps in the hall...."

You grin, falling against him with a sigh and kicking the door shut behind you. "Did you now? And you were so sure it was me?"

You slot your fingers with his and squeeze, gazing lovingly up at him.

"I would know your footsteps anywhere." He pulls you flush against his chest, arms wrapping you in a tight embrace. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, relishing in the scent of your hair, your skin, the day's exertion still clinging to you in a damp, cloying sweat.

He mumbles against you, words ushered against your skin, "I missed you."

"I've missed you too, my king." Finally, wrapped in his arms, everything is right with the world. "And how was your day? Meetings went well?"

Aegon is already half undressed, his tunic laying loosely over his unlaced trousers; you take the opportunity to slip a hand underneath his top and trail your nails lightly over his back.

His eyes slip closed in obvious pleasure at the feeling of your fingers on his spine and he shivers under your touch, a soft moan escaping him. It takes him a moment to respond.

"Mmm, my day was long and tiresome. I spent the entire day in the small council chamber, then moved along to the throne room to listen to petitions and resolve asinine disputes. I couldn't wait to come back here to you.... to have you in my arms, finally." His lips are seeking your neck again, his favorite place, laying soft kisses along the skin there.

"I'm sorry, love," you sigh contentedly. "You know I feel much the same - all this droll highborn talk puts me to sleep, it always has."

You roll your eyes, intensifying the scrape of your nails over Aegon's back. "But at least there was tea."

A full body shudder rolls through him this time, back arching under your hand as he groans and grabs wantonly for your hips.

"Tea?" He murmurs, lips brushing your ear. "You and your damned tea. Sometimes I think you might love your tea even more than you love me...."

"Oh, how could I?" You gasp, aghast, as you pull back to look at Aegon. Both hands now planted on his shoulders, you give your husband a studying look. "I love nothing more than you, my king."

A gentle hand comes to stroke at his soft cheek, thumb brushing back and forth beneath the dark circle ringing his eye. "You look exhausted, Aegon. Shall we to bed?"

Aegon leans into your touch, closing his eyes again only briefly, savoring the feel of your sweet touch against his skin. He draws a deep, steadying breath before meeting your gaze with a weary smile.

"You're right," he concedes, hushed, "I am exhausted.... but I don't think I could sleep just now.... "

The timber of his voice dips lower, and his bright blue eyes darken as he takes hold of your waist again. "Do you know what's been on my mind all day?"

You press against him, loving when he gets like this. So desperate and needy and all for you, secreted away from everyone who have had him all to themselves all day. Now meant only for your eyes.

"I'm sure I could guess, but.... Why don't you tell me?" Taking his hand, you lead him slowly toward the big bed in the middle of the room.

Aegon follows your lead, willingly, letting you guide him to bed. His gaze devours your figure, watching the way your hips sway with each step. Such nice, child-bearing hips, he thinks. He can't help but admire the way your silken gown clings to you as you move.

As you reach the bed, Aegon is there behind you, arms around your waist, holding you back against him. "All day, I've been thinking about holding you just like this," he murmurs, his lips at your ear. "Your body pressed to mine.... the sound of your labored breathing as I make you mine.... as I breed you...."

With your back pressed to his chest, you can feel him through his trousers - already deliciously hard for you. His hands prowl over your body atop your gown, and you turn in his embrace to start plucking at the already half unlaced top of his tunic. "Aegon.... I need that. I need you. Please."

His breath hitches. The desperate tone in your voice, the way your body responds instantly to his touch.... it makes his head spin.

"I know," he growls, his hands never relinquishing their hold on your hips as he kisses your neck. "You don't know how much I've wanted you, darling.... how hard I've been all day." He grinds himself into you, his erection straining at his trousers.

Wanting to see more of him, to have more of him bared against you, you urge him to raise his arms, ripping his top off over his head.

Your small hands travel his chest, brushing his pretty pink nipples, palming at his belly. "I think I have something of an idea. Because I've been wet all day at the thought of retiring here, to do this very thing."

His eyes flutter shut and he whimpers wantonly at the feeling of your hands on his body. No one had ever touched him this way before you.... He is completely at your mercy, putty in your hands to do with as you wish.

"Is that so?" He gasps, voice trembling, abdomen tensing under your touch. "Did you spend the whole day thinking about this.... thinking about me?"

He sounds surprised.

You tilt your head. "Of course, my sweet. I spend every day thinking of you. When I'm taking tea or practicing my Valyrian, you're always in the back of my mind. And I do mean always."

While he's preoccupied with this thought, you let your hands stray to his trousers, undoing those the rest of the way as well.

You slip your hands past the waistband and he gasps, his body shivering against yours.

"And what thoughts do you have of me, my darling?" He murmurs huskily, the timbre of his voice dropping an octave. "Tell me. I must hear them."

Aegon is already half mad with desire, with the way your body fits so easily against his.

With one of your hands seeking his hardness, the other brushes a lock of fine hair lovingly away from his face. "I think of your lips, the sweet kisses they give. I think of your hands, and what pleasure they bring me. Of your tongue...." Here, your fingers brush over his plump lips. "But mostly I think of your cock, and how one day soon it will give us an heir...."

Upon saying this, you grab it, and start to stroke slowly.

Aegon groans aloud, a guttural sound of need and desire that reverberates through his chest. He buries his face again in the crook of your neck, laboured breathing hot against your skin.

"Oh gods, yes...." He gasps, hips jerking reflexively into your hand. "Keep talking.... don't stop.... I know.... I know I'm not worthy, of any of this. But gods, when you say I am I actually fucking believe you...."

You welcome him against you with your hand cupped behind his neck, holding him close as you continue to stroke him inside his trousers. You soothe his little shakes and trembles with a kiss to his shoulder as you mutter softly, "Think of how many times you've given me your seed in just the past week. How many times more you're going to in the coming years. You're going to give us such a big, beautiful family. I love you, Aegon...."

You know your king likes hearing this, and that his favorite thing in this world is finishing inside of you. As such, your words have the desired effect - Aegon is now throbbing against the palm of your hand.

Close to your ear, his breath stutters. His body follows shortly after with a tremor, and he clings onto you, fingers grappling at the back of your gown. Your words, your touch, your presence - it's all he needs. And he's completely at your mercy, a mess of desperate desire and need.

"I'm yours.... I'm all yours...." He sobs into your neck. "You're the only one who makes me feel like this. The only one who makes me feel even remotely alive."

His hips buck his cock into your hand, the friction driving him mad. "Please don't stop.... I need you."

"Shh, Aegon...." You soothe him further, more kisses pressed to his warm skin. And though he's asked you not to stop, you do, only temporarily.

Doing your best to ignore his whimpers at the loss of your hand, you turn and offer your back to him. "Undo my dress, my love. Or shall I call my handmaids in to assist instead?"

Behind you, Aegon stumbles forward. "No," he growls. "No, I'll do it."

You know he hates the thought of anyone else seeing you in any state of undress, which is why you'd said it in the first place.

His hands are clumsy and shaking, but he manages to undo the buttons of your dress, revealing more and more of your skin. Every inch he exposes is like a revelation, a small taste of what's to come.

He pushes the dress from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a pool of fabric at your feet.

Clad now in only the sheer, white shift worn under your gown, you step out of the folds of your dress heaped on the floor and back toward the bed. You offer a hand to Aegon. "Come, my king. Join me. Or haven't you been thinking about this all day?"

His eyes rake over you, the thin material of your shift leaving little to the imagination. Aegon swallows hard, his throat suddenly very dry.

"Gods, yes," he rasps, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the bed. "It's been maddening to be apart from you all day. To think of you, only a few corridors away, while I was trapped in ridiculous meetings and listening to petitioners...."

"Petitions are important," you sigh, sinking back against the veritable mountain of pillows adorning the head of the bed. "Meetings less so, I'm sure. But.... nothing more important than doing your husbandly duty to your wife."

You laugh softly, spreading your legs as your shift rides up around your thighs, letting Aegon settle between. "My dear Aegon.... you know you do deserve this, don't you? All of this.... all of me?"

He admires your splayed legs, gaze dark and intense. Then he reaches out, letting his hands travel over the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

"I think you give me far too much credit, my love," he begins, pausing to press a gentle kiss to your leg, lips skimming over your sensitive skin. He moons adoringly up at you, raw desire written plain over his face. "But when you say it.... I almost believe you."

It's so hot these days, you typically decide to forego any smallclothes under your shift. Tonight, you're especially glad for that - Aegon's mouth is dangerously near your thighs. No doubt he can see your sex glistening beneath the shadow of gauzy material stretched between your legs.

"It's true, my king. All the love you have for me.... I want to return it tenfold."

With that, you start to pull the shift up further, so that slowly, your bare lower half is made plain to Aegon in the dim light of the bedchamber.

His mouth goes dry at the sight of you, bare and exposed to him. His breathing quickens, and he takes you in like a man thirsting for water.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands twitch with restrained need, aching to touch you, to feel you. "If I could, I would spend the rest of my life worshiping this body, and never go even a second without stopping.... "

The shift slips up even further, over your breasts and off, as you shake your hair loose. "You look like a man who wants a taste, Aegon.... Why don't you indulge?"

You encourage him with a hand at his shoulder, pulling him down.

He can't resist you, not that he'd ever dream of trying. He leans in, hands grasping your thighs, gentle kisses laid in their wake, his lips a mere preview of what's to come.

"You're so wicked," he murmurs, his breath coming in scorching pants against your thighs. "Always so eager to drive me to such desperation...."

Painstakingly slow, he inches higher, his lovely mouth trailing up toward the center of your heat, lips pressing soft kisses over the sensitive flesh.

You hook a leg over his shoulder, keeping him close with that hand now in his hair.

"You were already hard when I was still wearing my gown," you giggle, pressing your thumb to the corner of his plush lips. "Don't act like you need any tempting.... "

"Gods, not when it comes to you," he mutters, his lips now hovering just above the most intimate part of you, the anticipation driving both of you mad. "You're like a drug, my love - so very addicting. Once I have a taste, I can't get enough...."

His tongue darts out, tasting you delicately, barely enough to even feel, and he positively howls. "You taste so sweet.... my favorite meal."

The second lap of Aegon's tongue over you is also gentle, almost innocent. "Please, Aegon.... I need you."

You press that thumb harder, parting his lips and making him suck on your thumb.

He takes it eagerly, tongue swirling around it, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he tastes you.

"You know I can never resist you, my love," he mutters around your finger. "I'll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it."

He kisses your thigh, your hip, your stomach, working his way back to the place he wants to be most.

Once he's released it, you smooth your wet thumb over his cheek, leaving a streak of spit. Then leaning back, you grin. "I think you know what I want."

He smirks up at you, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You know I do," he murmurs, tongue delving between your slick folds. He grunts against you, the taste of you sending his mind spinning. "Heavenly.... I could spend all night right here, just like this."

Your thighs tremble beside his ears, and Aegon pets his hands soothingly over them.

"A-Aegon, gods.... your tongue always feels so good. It's not too late, we can keep at this for a while before we have to sleep, don't you think?"

His words are muffled, but the meaning clear; "I have no intention of stopping any time soon, my queen.... I plan on having you scream my name before the night is through."

Aegon's tongue swirls in lazy circles against your clit, hands gripping your trembling thighs to anchor you to him.

Aegon loves to tease, you know this. And yet, it still takes you by surprise and leaves you breathless how slow and lethargic those sweeps of his tongue really are.

"Aegon," you moan loudly, head thrashing, fingers plucking at your stiff nipples. "Aegon, I love you...."

"I love you," he says, pausing to flick his tongue against your clit, teasing it relentlessly. "Gods... I love you so much... so much... "

His mind is hazy with desire, lost in the taste and scent of you, the feel of your body under his touch. He can't get enough of you, craving more and more until he's completely satisfied, which he knows will take hours at the very least.

Aegon is gazing up at you with a mix of desperate desire and heartfelt love. The fire blazing in his bright blue eyes is intoxicating, drawing you in.

"I know.... I know you said you want to do this all night, but.... don't you want to put a baby inside of me instead?"

His breath stutters, eyes flashing with heat at your words. He presses another kiss to your hip, his hands roaming over your skin.

"A baby...." he muses, the thought sending a thrill through him. "You'd give me an heir, my love? Our child.... growing inside you...."

"Of course," you chuckle, carding a hand through his hair. "Isn't that what we've been trying for every night - and some afternoons - this past week....?"

He chokes on a laugh, his hands moving to rest on your stomach. "Every night and afternoon.... and some mornings." He looks up at you with a cheeky smile. "I've been a very.... thorough husband, haven't I?"

You nod, grinning down at your handsome husband. "Some might say too thorough. We've both been neglecting our royal duties, somewhat, to try and conceive. Tonight could be the night...."

He chuckles, hands moving over you, palming gently. "And if not tonight.... then we try again and again and again. Until we're successful."

He trails kisses over your stomach, his mouth wandering over the soft skin. "I'm not going to stop until I get you pregnant, love."

"We should start now, then...." Your cunt is dripping onto the bedclothes, all Aegon would need do is take those confounded trousers off and slide right in.... "Get me pregnant, my king. Give us an heir."

Aegon needs no more prompting; he kneels up just long enough to kick his pants off the end of the bed, then crawls over you.

"As you wish, my dear." His body presses close against yours, the heat between you searing hot. He bends to press a kiss to your neck, hands gently caressing your body. "You'll give me heirs and spares?"

You brace yourself with your hands on his arms, running over his heated flesh. "We'll have so many princes and princesses running around, we won't know what to do with ourselves," you reply quietly.

Aegon's cock is red and leaking, bobbing between his legs. "I want it," you mutter, staring hungrily down at it.

"That's the plan," he mutters, eyes darkening as he follows your gaze down between his legs.

"You're just as wicked as I am, aren't you?" His voice is strained with need. "I want to tease you more.... make you beg and squirm.... but you're making it so hard for me to hold back now."

You swipe a hand between your own legs, gathering slick from your folds to bring to Aegon's length, easing the way as you stroke him.

"Am I making it hard? Am I making it so hard, my king?"

Your touch sends a jolt of pleasure through him, a grating cry falling from his lips. He nods desperately, his hips bucking into your hand.

"So... gods, so hard... you're going to drive me mad, woman," he groans, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "If you keep this up, I'm going to lose all control..."

"Lose it, then. Fuck me, Aegon. Fuck me so hard the entire keep can hear me scream your name." You're trying to pull him forward by his cock, but the slippery grip of your fingers is making it hard.

Aegon growls, grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him roughly. His cock slips from your grasp, pressing against your entrance as he stares into your eyes.

"Is that what you want, my love?" he croaks, voice breaking with longing. "Do you want me to take you like a savage…. make you mine completely…. until there's nothing left of us but the echoes of our screams along these stone walls?"

He doesn't wait for your answer, pushing into you in one swift motion. You're tight, so godsdamn tight, and it's all Aegon can do to keep himself from losing control entirely. He begins to move, slowly at first, relishing the sensation of your body gripping him selfishly.

Gods, he makes you feel like some lowborn whore when he talks like that, and you love it. "T-Take me, Aegon," you stutter, a moment too late. He's already inside, moving, pushing past that tight ring of muscle that is always so hells bent on keeping him out.

One hand comes down to rub hard at that little button, the one that sends such shocks of pleasure through you. The other braces itself on Aegon's hip, where you can feel his muscles moving beautifully beneath the skin, driving him on.

Aegon growls, feeling your body react to his touch. Your tight walls pulse around him with each stroke, driving him ever closer to completion.

"By the gods, you feel so good," he pants, his fingers digging into your hips as he quickens his pace. "So fucking perfect…. just for me…."

He can feel himself getting close, a fire building inside him that he knows will consume him entirely. But he can't stop now, not when you're writhing beneath him, begging for more. He moves harder, deeper, angling his hips just so to hit that sweet spot inside you.

You find yourself digging your heels into the mattress, helping him to change that angle to the one that makes you see stars.

You truly are screaming his name now, your voice echoing off the walls. Surely those in neighboring chambers have no trouble hearing you now.

"That's it," Aegon grunts, his hold on your hips bruising. "Let them hear you, love. Let them all hear their king getting their queen pregnant."

Your body tenses, pleasure building inside you to a fever pitch. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, ready to topple over into ecstasy at any moment.

"Gods, Aegon!" You cry out, gripping the sheets beneath you as he pounds into you with abandon.

"Yes, yes…. let them hear it…. let them know you're mine…."

And then it's there, that rush that consumes you entirely. You shatter around him, every muscle in your body clenching as you scream his name. It's enough to push him over the edge too, and he follows you with a hoarse cry, spilling into your depths.

Your entire body feels overheated, the candles on the bedside tables guttering as you cry out with abandon. There's a soft layer of sweat over your entire body as you lie panting underneath your husband.

His cock is still spasming and twitching inside of you. You have just enough energy to wrap your trembling arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a kiss. "Do you feel that, my king? Do you feel your queen's cunt milking all of your strong seed out? It's going to take this time, I just know it."

Aegon whines, his body shuddering with the aftershocks of his release. He collapses onto you, panting and sweaty as he pulls you into his arms.

"Gods, yes," he gasps, his voice ragged with pleasure. "I can feel it…. you're so tight…. so perfect…. I've filled you completely…. you're pregnant with my child…"

He says this like the saying makes it so, and you love him for it.

He nuzzles your neck, kissing you feverishly as he continues to thrust weakly into you. The thought of making you carry his child ignites a fire in him that refuses to be quenched.

The feeling of Aegon still trying to fuck his softening cock into you warms your heart. Your king wants so badly to always be inside of you….

Letting him rest his fair head on your chest, you take a steadying breath. "Aegon …"

He looks up at you, eyes softening as he takes you in. "Yes, my love?" He asks, still panting heavily.

You run a gentle hand through his hair, feeling the damp strands sticking to your fingers. "Do you really believe that I'm pregnant with your child now?"

Aegon nods firmly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "Of course I do. My seed has filled you completely, my queen. And soon enough, our child will be growing inside you…. a true heir to the Targaryen name."

He pauses, taking a moment to adore you. "And when that day comes, my love, we'll be unstoppable. Together, we'll conquer all of Westeros and make the world bow to our will."

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

masterlist | part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own), part 3 (i didn't plan this), part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Ground Riot agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3