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internet-sadass · 21 hours

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Totally Medical and Professional Knotting (dogboy! Leon Kennedy x doggirl! reader)

Blurb: Of course, Leon would absolutely dote on the older officer who happened to be the only other dogkin at RPD. And, of course, he'd be more than happy to help her 'get over' her heat when she runs out of her suppressants one day.

Warnings: smut (p in v), unprotected sex, omegaverse, breeding kink, knotting, workplace sex, dogboys/girls

A/N: I guess this is my own ‘take’ on omegaverse shit so dont come for me. Also 'dogkin' refers to dogboys/doggirls, thats just the term I've personally always used to describe them.

On his first day at the Raccoon City Police Department, Leon had fully been expecting to be the sole dogkin there. It wasn't like dogkin typically went into police work, nor were they really made welcome there. However, when he was introduced to you, the more senior officer whom he’d be shadowing, any anxieties about being bullied or rejected due to his species went out the window. You too were a dogkin, with a well-groomed, fluffy blonde tail and perked-up ears. Not to mention, canine features aside, you were certainly very pretty and gave Leon a sweet smile when the two of you were introduced.

“Nice to meet you, Leon.” You’d said, shaking his hand. Your voice sounded so warm and kind to him, and the mellow, floral scent of your perfume mixed with the natural pheromones omegas gave off was intoxicating to him. His tail had shyly wagged in response to you introducing yourself and telling him, in that gentle voice of yours, that he needn’t be afraid of asking ‘stupid’ questions because there was no such thing.

From that instant, the young rookie had been pretty much enamoured with you, following around (literally) like a lost puppy. Even when the two of you went out on patrol or to investigations and were under stress, you never lost your temper with him, never raised your voice. Other officers could be quite cruel to Leon, berating him for making mistakes, but never you. Even if you had criticism to give, it was always delivered in such a calm manner. Aside from being a fellow dogkin, you were also a good few years older than Leon, and had a slightly maternal nature towards him, which he didn’t mind at all.

All these factors, your kindness, your patience, your protectiveness over the rookie, and (of course) those plush curves of yours led Leon to develop a crush on you. When he got home after a shift, more often than not, he’d have another ‘task’ to deal with, though not one you knowingly set him. He’d rut into his hand, whining as he squeezed his knot, imagining how good it would be to claim you as his omega, give you however many litters of pups you wanted, and feel your slick coating his cock. He was aware that you were older and probably had many eager, more capable older alphas coming on to you, but somehow, Leon believed you’d pick him. After all, you hadn't been claimed yet, you hadn't had any pups yet (you’d disclosed this to him at one point), and you’d certainly complimented him enough times to indicate (in his eyes) that you were interested in him.

Leon was desperate to tell you, confess ALL of these feelings and desires to you, but he knew it was absolutely not professional to go up to his superior, who’d he’d known for just around two months now, and tell her he wanted to claim her as his omega, give her as many pups as she wanted, and take her out on a romantic date to that fancy restaurant she’d mentioned several times. He didn't want to risk losing his job or losing the respect you clearly had for him. There was lingering doubt in the back of his mind about whether or not he’d read those signals from you correctly. Maybe you were just doing your job and coaching the rookie, and there was nothing romantic or sexual about how you acted towards him. Leon desperately wished that wasn't the case and prayed that you’d make the first move. He was an alpha, sure, and technically it was his job to make the first move, but he wanted the all-clear from you before he made a fool of himself.

Luckily for Leon, that day did indeed come, just not in the way he expected.

The moment he set foot into the office the two of you shared, he could sense something was off. And then the scent hit him and he knew. Before he could even open his mouth to say anything, you’d got up from your desk, strode across the room, and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Leon-” You started, struggling to even speak when you were this close to him, the distinct heavy scent of a young alpha assaulting your senses. Deep in your belly, the cramps intensified in response to his scent. Sweat was already breaking out across your forehead and you felt another wave of nausea wash over you. You cursed yourself for not just taking the damn day off until your emergency suppressant prescription (hopefully) came in that afternoon.

Leon looked like he was about to say something so you raised your hand, silencing him in an instant.

“I am aware that you're aware of my current…state. However, I’ll have my medication by around three p.m., so we shan’t have to deal with this…issue for too long.” It took every ounce of your willpower to keep your shit together and stay professional and in control.

Leon was a very handsome young man at the best of times, and you certainly weren’t immune to his charm, as much as you tried to be for professionalism’s sake, but right now his good looks were not helping. He was perfect: young, very fertile (you could smell it so clearly that day), and had never claimed another omega. And God his scent! That musky masculine smell, indicative of a young alpha, mixed with his minty body wash. You felt your insides twist, your cunt growing even more slick as it prepared itself to be penetrated.

No , you told your reproductive system, not here and not now. We just have to wait until three, then it'll be fine. Just a few hours.

Already, in those few moments you'd paused to try and get a grip on yourself, Leon's expression and demeanour had changed. The look in his eyes was very clear, but you could tell he was holding back, desperately, as always, trying to be good. It’d be so easy for him to pounce on you, pin you down, and sort out your ‘current state’ (as you’d so politely termed it) himself. It’d be easy because you wouldn’t resist. At this point, you’d accept anything to make the nausea, cramps, dizziness, and the ever-rising temperature of your body go away.

Get a grip, for God’s sake! The last remnants of your rational, less-canine side mentally shook you by the shoulders, snapping you out of your daydreams. You cleared your throat.

"I can arrange for you to work under someone else for today. I don't want to hinder your ability to do your job or make you uncomfortable all because I forgot to refill my prescription." You continued, half-hoping he’d say yes, and you would be left alone to deal with your heat yourself. At least its intensity would lessen slightly if you weren't trapped in your small office with the literal embodiment of the ideal mate for your kind.

"N-no, it's fine. It'll be fine." Leon stuttered out, managing a watery smile as he dug his nails into his palms. He could feel his whole body getting warm, those familiar feelings of tension and arousal stirring in his lower regions as his body slowly descended into a rut. The two of you went to your desks on opposite sides of the small room, both willing yourselves to ignore the roar of your natural instincts and just focus on getting through the day.

***

The scent of your heat was like a miasma in your office, utterly inescapable and hanging thickly in the air. Leon could smell the slick wetting the crotch of your panties. Even with nothing to stimulate you, you were dripping already. He took note of how you kept crossing and uncrossing your legs, those delicious thick thighs pressing together in an effort to relieve some of that endless tension inside you as you read over case files. He also couldn't focus on the files he was supposed to review whilst the pair of you waited to be called out onto an investigation. All the words on the page just blurred together and his mind would instead entertain him with visions of you under him, your legs wrapped around his waist as he pummelled into you, saying his name over and over, begging him to claim you as his own and give you litter after litter of pups.

It eventually got too much. Leon stood up from his desk and walked over to you. You didn't even turn to look up at him despite sensing his presence next to your desk. In your current state, which had already worsened, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that just looking at him would send you spiralling and make you lose the fragile self-control you had over yourself right then.

"Um...Officer?" He started, fidgeting with his fingers as he looked down at you. He noticed the way you were trembling, your tail swishing in frustration as you repeatedly shifted in your seat , unable to sit still.

Leon had to choose his words carefully here. The last thing he wanted to do was anger you, especially when you were so clearly on edge.

"I...please let me help you. You’re literally shaking, I…I know omegas can get really sick and pass out if they don’t get some relief during a heat. Especially if they’ve been on suppressants for a long time.”

The younger officer had obviously been doing research if he knew that the main danger of omegas using suppressants was that, if they suddenly stopped using them, they were at a higher risk of going into shock from the sudden onset of intense heat.

“And…I mean, I really like you, I’d be happy to help you. I don't want to see you suffering like you are right now.” He continued, stuttering and stumbling over his words as he essentially asked permission to fuck you.

Would it really be so bad to let him fuck you? Would it really be such a crime to let him do what he so obviously wanted so you could get some relief from the agonising combination of hot flushes, nausea, and constantly growing tension between your thighs?

The feral part of your brain, the part which was ruled by canine instincts, said yes. Leon was right, this was the sickest you’d felt during a heat since you’d started suppressants five years ago, and there were still another five hours at least until your prescription would maybe be ready to be picked up. Passing out or going into shock because of the intensity of your heat was the last thing you needed, especially as you knew the higher-ups at RPD would use it against you, declare you as unfit for your job, use it as an argument for why dogkin are ‘useless’ for the force to employ. At least if you got this heat over with now (even if that meant fucking the rookie who was under your charge), you wouldn't be passing out or going into shock. You could just get on with your work and still have a job by the end of your shift.

"Leon." You said finally, with a sigh, rubbing the sweat off your forehead. His floppy ears perked up and his tail gave the subtlest of movements. "Go lock the door."

You got up from your seat, wincing as more slick leaked out of you during the motion of getting up from your desk.

"You have to promise me, absolutely promise me , that you will pull out before you knot me. We're doing this just to get me through this heat so we can both focus on work and so I don’t get sick. Not to have a litter or signify that we are coupled now, understood?" Your tone was dead serious, almost cold, as you grasped the rookie by the shoulder to emphasise your point.

“This is a totally medical, professional arrangement. Nothing more. Do I make myself clear, Leon?”

Disappointed though he was that you weren’t inviting him to claim you, Leon nodded eagerly, his excitement coming out in his blonde tail swishing back and forth. Lifting his chin slightly with your fingers, you leant forward to kiss him. His lips stayed frozen against yours for a few seconds, confused and a little startled, before he reciprocated. The movement of his lips over yours was hesitant and sloppy. You wondered how many people he’d kissed before. Maybe only one or two, judging by his technique. It didn't matter though, because the feeling of his curious hands roaming over your well-starched uniform shirt, groping at the squishy flesh of your breasts before heading down to squeeze at your ass had you moaning into his mouth. Any touch at this point was welcome and brought about a taste of relief.

You could feel the firm press of his erection against you, even through the rough fabric of his slacks. It was hot and throbbed in time with his quickened heartbeat. At that point, you were very much aware you’d sent the poor young man into a rut, especially when he arched into your touch as you palmed him, whining and grinding himself against your hand. It’d be cruel to keep the poor young alpha waiting any longer, so you pulled back from him and hastily undid your slacks, yanking them and your panties down below your ass. Wasting no time, you bent over the desk, pressing your chest against the cool wood and arched your back, spreading your legs slightly, causing strings of slick to break between your thighs as you parted them. Your wonderfully fluffy and silky tail curled off to the side, which was the universal dogkin signal that an omega was ready to be mated with.

Leon froze for a few seconds, staring intensely at how you were presenting yourself to him, his eyes catching on your pink cunt, the plump lips glistening in the harsh light of the office. This was like something out of his fantasies, and he caught himself swelling with pride that you were presenting yourself to him. Not some other older, stronger alpha. Him. with jittery hands, he undid his belt, shucking his trousers and boxers down his thighs. Freed from the suffocating confines of his boxers, Leon’s length bobbed as he lined himself up, the tip shiny with the precum which was dribbling down the shaft. The flared head brushed against your lips as Leon tried to figure out what to do and where to put his hands. you moaned in response, pushing back against him, forcing the tip inside your deliciously hot and wet pussy. The young alpha shuddered in pleasure, placing his hands on the desk either side of you before rolling his hips, sinking his length into you, feeling your body eagerly accept him, sucking him in. The noise you made in response to this action was nothing short of pornographic; as you let out a long wail of pleasure.

Finally, instinct took over, and Leon began fucking you just as any young alpha who'd never claimed an omega before would: his thrusts were quick, short, and shallow, his nails digging into the desk as pounded into you. His breath was hot against the side of your face, his cock heavy and hard inside you as it stretched you out, driving in and out of you in an imperfect rhythm. In your current state, you couldn’t care less about technique. All you cared about was that delicious stretch, the feeling of being full, the sensation of him hitting up against that deep, soft part of your cunt that made you see stars. Already, the sickness of your heat had died down, instead being replaced with utter pleasure as your rational brain shut off and was replaced by the dumb canine one which only cared about being bred and having your hole stuffed with cum. You did, however, have enough sense left in your head and opted to cover your mouth with your hand, fearing that your salacious moans and whimpers would be heard by every member of staff currently in the building. Your efforts were in vain, as even if they didn't hear you, they'd probably hear Leon, who was making no effort to keep his voice down.

"P-please let me give you pups! I'd be so so good, such a good alpha for you." He whined in your ear, kissing and laving at your neck with his tongue, clearly desperate to mark you, to claim you as his own. There was nothing Leon wanted at that moment more than to breed you, make sure it's was his pups that filled your womb. His knot swelled in response to his desire, getting dangerously close to becoming stuck inside you already. You were so tight and wet around him, your body practically begging him to press himself all the way into you, to pound you until he came and filled your pretty little pussy up with seed. You were wet as anything too, the slick coating his thighs and balls, and your sloppy cunt made a distinct squelch with every roll of his hips.

You didn't answer his pleas, only giving a muffled moan when he rutted his head right up against the soft ring of your cervix. Already, the little bit of precum he’d released inside you had made your heat calm down to a far more tolerable level. However, it was now being replaced by another instinctual drive: to have your cunt filled until it overflowed, until you were well and truly bred, until there was zero chance of you not having a litter with Leon. Any thoughts or concerns about what getting pregnant would mean in terms of your career had vanished, as your canine brain had entirely taken over.

"Please!" He whined again, almost wailing as he continued to rut into you feverishly, desperately trying to bring himself to completion so he could shoot his seed into you before you could reject his proposal to get you pregnant and so claim you as his. He gave another pathetic moan as his pace increased, his lean hips desperately pumping, colliding with the fat of your ass. His hands moved from scratching up the wooden desk to gripping your hips to get more leverage to rail you even harder and (hopefully) manage to shove his knot into you before you could pull away from him and escape.

You let out another wail of utter pleasure, followed by whines and yelps as Leon kept on bullying his cock into you, the head thudding against your innermost point to an almost painful degree. You’d never been fucked like this before, not even by other alphas. Perhaps it was because you were actually in heat whilst having sex, which was something you’d never done before due to the risk of pregnancy and not finding an alpha you liked enough to want to do something so intimate with.

Giving in, you couldn't hold back any longer.

“L-Leon.” You panted out, turning your head slightly to look over your shoulder at him.

He was quite the sight; his face was flushed, his blonde hair dishevelled and slightly sweaty, sticking to his forehead, his eyes clouded with lust. You felt lucky to have snagged such a handsome younger alpha to be the one to claim you.

His gaze shifted from where his hands clutching onto your hips to your face.

“Yeah?” Leon’s response was breathless, as he didn't cease thrusting into you for a second.

“Just…take me. Please. I want…ah, fuck!” Clearly, what you were saying was going down well with the younger man as he didn't even let you finish, instead picking up his pace. No more words were needed from you.

You arched your back more, spreading your legs further apart so Leon could get even deeper into you. Taking the hint, he leaned over you, placing his hands on either side of your shoulders, and gripped the collar of your shirt in his mouth to ensure you didn't try to wiggle your way out from under him if you changed your mind. With two sharp rolls of his hips, he managed to shove his swollen knot inside you, causing you to cry out. He was so deep inside you, filling you to the brim, and the stretch of his knot inside you stung. You could feel it throbbing and pulsing with need.

With his cock now well and truly stuck inside you (with no hope of sliding out, not with how tightly your cunt was gripping into him and how engorged his knot was) Leon shifted his hips slightly, grinding them against your ass, trying to coax his climax to come. It didn't take much before he practically exploded inside you, his cock pulsing as spurt after spurt of his thick seed pumped into you, filling your womb with its warmth as he emptied his full balls into you. You groaned against the table, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as you felt delicious relief wash over you, a deep primal satisfaction.

Leon let go of the collar of your shirt before mumbling in your ear as the last dribbles of his semen left his slit.

"M'gonna give you...ah...so many litters. As many as you want.”

He was feeling his own primal satisfaction of claiming an omega and, he hoped, fathering a litter of strong, healthy pups.

The pair of you stayed stuck in the same position, bent over your desk, Leon’s chest pressed against your shoulder blades as you both waited for Leon’s knot to shrink enough for you to be able to release yourself. In his post-coital bliss, Leon's tail wagged lazily, giving away his simple feelings of satisfaction and pleasure that he'd got to (hopefully) knock up and claim his superior as his omega. You knew it was highly likely that he had, considering that he was a young, healthy, virile dogkin and you were in the peak of an intense heat. Right now, as Leon hummed against your neck, kissing at it whilst his cum settled in your womb, the idea of having a litter (or two, maybe even three) didn't seem all that unattractive.

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changingplumbob · 2 days

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Romero Household: Chapter 1, Part 6

🎵🎶We're going to the chapel and we're, gonna get married 🎵🎶

Formal photos in the next part, this was all about the ceremony.

Marta’s first language is Spanish so she is teaching Keira (and me) some common Spanish words/phrases Abuelo/Abuela: Grandfather/Grandmother Buenas tardes : Good afternoon Carino: Term of endearment for a loved one Lo siento: Sorry Mi familia: My family Padre: Father Te amo: I love you

Wednesday starts off grey and rainy. Marta is determined to have her barista shift before the wedding, but Keira already has Wednesdays off work. After checking what she can harvest she decides to spend some time at the rec centre working on her handiness. She needs to level up in logic and handiness for her next promotion and some mean watcher has made skill gain harder since her last rotation. When more sims arrive she gets tense and leaves, can’t be too early to her own wedding.

Keira: It’s sunny! Oh thank the watcher

Joey: You alright

Keira: It was pouring in San Sequoia, I was certain we wouldn’t be able to get any photos after the ceremony

Joey: *laughs* different places, different weather. Or maybe the watcher just cheated it (I didn't Joey what are you implying?) Okay, you ready to sign your life away

Keira: *laughs* You would say it like that. Come on, I still need to get in my dress

The wedding gets underway with Harvey escorting Keira up the aisle.

Harvey: *sniffles*

Keira: Dad... are you crying

Harvey: You used to practice your bride walk around the house when you were a kid, now look at you

Keira: *laughs* I remember

Harvey: I'm so happy for you Keira

Keira: Look dad, everyone got here without problems. That’s got to be a good sign

Harvey: Yes, let’s hope it lasts. I want you to have the wedding of your dreams

Keira: If my bride shows up then that is what I’ll have

Harvey: I’ll leave you here then. Very good luck my darling. I’ll go collect your bride. Remember, no peeking

Keira: *laughs* she has made me promise not to look early

Harvey: See you soon

And so Harvey heads back down the aisle to where Marta has entered the church. She has no sims to give her away so the couple decided it would be nice for Harvey to escort both brides.

Harvey: Are you ready Marta

Marta: *sniffles* I’m so ready to be married to your daughter *smiles*

Harvey: Hey now, we better get you up there before you wash away

They wait until the music cue then Harvey and Marta begin the journey up the aisle.

Slowly they walk down the aisle and Keira can feel her nerves increase. She wants to turn before Marta is there but knows today is about promises. She needs to let Marta know she’ll respect her wishes. So Keira waits with baited breath as she hears people in the church murmur, clearly impressed with something.

Marta: Oh Harvey, you talk of me washing away. You might wash with me

Harvey: *sniffles* I’m fine. I’m just so... so... happy

Marta: Me to

They approach the altar and Harvey releases Marta, returning to his seat sniffling away. Marta tiptoes and taps Keira on the shoulder.

Marta: Carino, I’m here, you can turn now

Keira turns and is mesmerised. She knows Marta is a beautiful woman but the person in front of her takes her breath away. Marta looks angelic with her hair cascading over her shoulder and seems to be radiating love.

Marta: *whispers* Buenas tardes carino

Keira: Hola sweetheart. Watcher you look… gorgeous *sniffles*

Marta: *giggles* That was the effect I was going for. You are beautiful, I knew you’d look even better than I imagined

Keira: *sniffles* Want to get married

Marta: With my whole heart

The officiant steps up and the group sing a few hymns before the vows get underway. Keira is up first.

Keira: Sweetheart, I can still remember the first time I saw you. I was supposed to be studying for some test or other and into the music room below walked one of the prettiest women I have ever seen. You seemed nervous, as we now know that was because you were breaking in

At this line the crowd lets out a quiet chuckle and Marta sniffles.

Keira: When you sang it was like you became larger than life. I couldn’t hear all the way up there but I wanted to. You became my favourite show, and meeting you was better than any season premiere. I have always dreamed of finding my soulmate, my partner in life, and sweetheart *sniffles* in my wildest dreams I couldn’t have imagined someone as real... and perfect for me... as you

Marta lets out a small sob and Keira leans forwards to wipe the tear away.

Keira: Te amo. I understand now why Anakin turned the galaxy upside down for Padme and why Mal couldn’t stop himself standing up for Inara. Your love helps me be the best version of myself. One that takes risks, one that doesn’t run from challenges, and one that is absolutely completely in love with you

Marta: *sniffles* carino

Keira: Life with you has become my favourite saga, one that I hope will carry on for years to come. Your courage inspires me *sniffles* and your heart is where I feel safe. I am so excited to find out what life has in store for us. I’m not afraid of it because I know, come what may, I need only look to my side and you’ll be there

Marta: *sniffles* Lo siento, I just need a handkerchief

The crowd lets out a collective giggle and sniffle as Keira helps Marta dab away some of the pools under her eyes.

Marta: My turn. Carino *clears throat* I was returning to life when I met you. Somehow you made all the mantras I repeated to myself real. Suddenly I did feel worthy... and strong... and that *sniffles* I am enough. For so long I only saw what was wrong with me but getting to know you, seeing how hesitant you were to claim your strengths when I wanted to shout them from the rooftops... it showed me I needed to embrace all of me. You make me proud. Proud to be me and to have won your heart.

Marta: Before you, life was a song I could never figure out the tune of with the melodies and bridges throwing me off track. I know now why I was never in sync. My life was always meant to be a duet, one of me and you *sniffles* and I am so happy to be promising my forever to you

Keira: *mouthing* I love you

Marta: *sniffles* My abuela and abuelo were followed quickly to the forever save by my padre and mama but... in this church I feel they are with us, and I know in my heart they all would love you. Ma familia, if you can hear me, know I am the happiest I have ever been. Carino, I feel as though the watcher sculpted us for each other, and every day I give thanks for finding you, and you loving me. You will always be my favourite song, the one I cannot get out of my head

Keira takes the first ring from Joey and holds it over Marta’s finger.

Keira: I, Keira Foster, take you, Marta Aymee Romero, to be my watcherly wed wife. I solemnly swear I shall be your best friend, your shelter in a tempest and the wind in your wings. In front of our familia, our friends, and the watcher, I promise to love and cherish you, for as long as our souls exist. Te amo sweetheart

With her vows complete Keira slides Marta’s ring on, feeling so happy she’s sure she’ll explode.

Marta wipes some more tears and does her best to compose herself, taking Keira's ring from Alexander.

Marta: I, Marta Aymee Romero, take you, Keira Foster, to be my watcherly wed wife. I solemnly swear I shall be your best friend, your shelter in a tempest and the wind in your wings. In front of our familia, our friends, and the watcher, I promise to love and cherish you, for as long as our souls exist. Te amo carino

The brides can’t take their eyes off each other and the rest of the service is a blur.

Officiant: By the power invested in me by the watcher I now pronounce you, wife and wife

Keira sweeps Marta into her arms, dipping her low before pulling her in for a kiss. The church erupts in cheers but the two women hardly notice it, they’re full of love.

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#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #my sims #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #R0903 #KeiraFoster #JoeyYork #HarveyFoster #MartaRomero #KeiraRomero

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maliciousalice · 5 months

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Hii Do you have a fave Janeway out-of-uniform look?

Ohh this is such a hard choice! There are so many reasons I like her out of uniform-- A lot of the time it's because we get to see who she is behind the veil. That couldn't be more apparent than in Resolutions, she flirts, explores and relaxes while she struggles to maintain her identity. She has like, 5 costume changes in that episode, albeit modest in design, they are quite revealing in a sub-textual way. Funnily enough, I actually would like to catalogue each time she is out of uniform and break down how it relates to the narrative etc. I sometimes ponder about the choices that have been made with hair and costume. We don't actually know much besides a few articles and scattered pieces of media--Most behind the scene information is about set design, which in it's own right is cool, but sometimes feels like it’s highlighted due to the male audience and as a result the other artists aren't valued enough. In theory, I'd like to uplift them because their efforts transform the lack frontal, narrative-body of some characters- we consequently learn things such as the fashion of the era, character’s states of mind, setting, etc, simply through what they are wearing– Do I dislike that? No. Because I understand the format of Star Trek is limited by the nature of being a 24 episode per season show. Sometimes things appear rushed or incomplete but if you look in the right direction, the work that was produced is just as rich as most shows, if not more. For the most part don’t think audiences appreciate the conditions that this show was made under.

The whole show has certainly been more impactful on the cultural zeitgeist than others and I think the reason for that success goes beyond the surface level- It’s not just a simple miracle that it works as well as it does, talented teams of actors, writers and people in costume all combined their skills together to forge it. They did the best they could with what they were given, and I appreciate the costume designers and writers for attempting to provide some semblance of substance in the background. (On another note I wish Paramount had archived their costumes better. Evil that we only get high resolution photography when they're selling them to someone's private collection)

However, to answer your actual question, my favourite out of uniform stint is when Captain Janeway is modified to look like a Klingon in the Killing Game! The disguise worked so well for me that I didn't recognise her on my first watch through.

Interestingly in the brief scene with brainwashed Janeway, we see an acting side of Kate's that is pretty rare. She delivered a unique and entertaining performance. While she has had to get physical on a few occasions as Janeway, and even other roles, she has never had to go full feral mode and I love seeing her in a way that is untethered from all of herself, she yells, bares her teeth, barrels into others, and does somersaults without hesitation. It's delightful choreography, and It immediately makes us question what is going on. Who is this? Can’t possibly be our well-adjusted hero, because whoever this is, is brazenly-fierce and in Klingon attire! But yes we find out it is indeed her, arguably a repressed version of her mind but regardless Janeway is completely transformed both physically and mentally, and that’s shockingly fun.

Lending to that idea of fun, is the juxtaposingly detailed presentation of the Klingon costume versus the Starfleet uniform. I love the overall shapes, matte qualities contrasting with the metal details, the decorative line-work that leads the eye around, and materials such as swinging chains and fur, that make it look good in motion. From what I’ve seen there is a difference in the female and male armour, with the breast plating and bodice design. The armour’s bulky top half with its shoulder pads deliver a signature look, and it looks great against the simplified bottom. Considering Klingon’s do a lot of close combat, my guess is that it’s design is more about manoeuvrability, and boasting intimidation, rather than heavy defence. Ironically after all that ducking and dodging, ho ho Janeway gets stabbed for leaving her guard down. If I looked, I am sure I could find something to back that up, since Klingons have extremely dedicated lore.

The makeup on Janeway is really neat too, the orange tones they used on her face make her crystalline eye colour dramatically pop. There is also a delicious parallel to her styling and B'Elanna's mother from Barge of the Dead in the episode that I quietly indulge in BUT I DIGRESS.

Despite the unusual circumstances, I wish we had more photography done of Kate in the unique costumes she wore beyond a few on set pictures, because I want to ogle at a more editorial/detailed press presentation of each one and I believe that everyone should treasure all versions of Janeway.

Blah Blah Blahhhh haha

I feel a little vulnerable spreading my thoughts around but I really appreciate you asking me about them and getting me out of my shell <333.

#i have an interest in technical things because of my media background and i wish things were treated with a bit more care and respect #kate could wear a paper bag and it would look amazing and intentional #i love killing game so based for giving us unique wardrobe pieces #CRIES I love Janeway sm I just think she's neat tee hee #if you made it to the end of my rambling bless your heart #feel free to give me more questions it's fun to answer them #PENSIVE ignore the grammatical mistakes i actually have poor word comprehension / borderline dyslexia i can see ive left out words too #klingon janeway is such a little freak :3 #shes so dreamy hehe like all klingon females kinda sexy tho

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theygender · 4 months

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Does anyone have any good book recommendations that talk about transmisogyny in a way that would be entry level to like. A 50 year old cis lesbian

#especially ones that talk about the ways that our society primes even trans allies to view trans women in a negative light #my mom is trying but i think she could use some help understanding in a way that i dont think i could just talk her through #she seems to think my gf is more like standoffish than she actually is and she thinks my gf is being rude when shes emotional about smth #and im talking her through it from the perspective of like #'as a human being and as someone who is all too familiar with homophobia please understand what this is like from her perspective'#but i feel like. theres some unconscious transmisogyny going on here and i really wish my mom could understand that #but i dont think shes ever even heard of transmisogyny before. she has no context #i cant try and talk her through it from that perspective bc she would need a lot of background to understand what im saying #and i dont think trying to explain transmisogyny theory in the middle of an argument would be helpful #if i could recommend her a good book under the context that it would help her understand me and my gf as trans people #and if she read through it and took the time to understand it which i do believe she would #i feel like it might help her to kind of analyze if the thoughts shes having are influenced by transmisogyny and start unpacking that #and also importantly i feel like she could look at what my gf is going through not just from the human and lgbt perspective im asking her to #but also from her perspective As A Woman #bc i feel like theres a missing piece there right now. my mom supports us and respects my gfs gender #but i dont think shes looking at these situations in context As A Fellow Woman #idk #rambling

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toastsnaffler · 2 months

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everyone say thank u to my roommate for going to visit her parents this weekend so I can jack it loud and nasty 🙏

#i love her but there are some benefits to having the flat to myself.... love getting to wander around in just my boxers + a tshirt too #things i could do while she was still here if i wasnt a pussy 🙄#jk itd just make her uncomfortable and im too respectful for that #having a lowkey crush on her is an endless comedy to me bc we would be so woefully incompatible romantically #and also sexually.. historically ive only ever stone topped bc ive never been comfortable enough w anyone to let them fuck me #despite very much Not being stone or exclusively a top. and i think shes some form of sex repulsed anyway so like. sits there dead silence #and also shes so in love with her other friends and i showed up late to that party.... ive been feeling kinda guilty lately bc ik-#she misses them a lot and wishes we'd be able to stay roommates w them too. and im a pretty poor replacement for them tbh #and i love spending time with her but whenever i do i feel kinda painfully aware im not them like i could never fill that space #and asking to hang out more with her always feels like im taking away from time she could be talking to them. or even being alone ik she-#likes her own company and i get that a lot too so its chill but ahh.. man #i dont mean this in a bitter or jealous way at all like theyre all such sweet ppl i couldnt ever hold it against them #theyre kind of a 3 headed cerberus type situation and im like. the stray puppy they found on the side of the road #theres nothing they can do differently i was just born to be alienated from other ppl forever until i die. and someday i hope ill-#finally get used to it and accept i wont ever feel like im enough for anyone else or feel like anything else is enough for me #old wounds healed over 5082 times that still hurt to touch but i cant help pressing my fingers into them anyway bc its a familiar pain etc #anyway lost where i was going with this its just been on my mind again recently. i hate to be pitied i hate to feel like im only included-#bc they didnt want me to feel left out i hate feeling like a shoddy secondhand stand-in and its been a lot of that lately #also been a little annoyed bc sometimes it feels like shes trying to micromanage my social life and girl. we're not close enough for that #im sure its well intentioned but im not part of what they have going on i cant compete in that ring so dont try to push me into it..#ahhh. its all ok tho one of the guys is coming to visit next month which will be rly fun but ill try to give them some space too #its good at least im doing this processing now bc group situations can be spike traps of triggers for me sometimes #regardless of how good friends i am w ppl and ive already had a wobble a few weeks ago w how i cope and i dont want it to become a #fully fledged regular issue again bc its so hard to crawl back out of that pit. anyway losing coherence here im gonna stop rambling #and go make myself an early dinner and then back to drawing........#sorry for long tags if ur reading this blows u a kiss but go find a better use of ur time girl!!#.diaries

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cherrymoonvol6 · 5 months

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#i finished binging the she-ra show #and it was fine? this is what people are so angry about?#i think catra's redemption was well setup and made sense #and while i still like the catra adora romance i wish there was like... more of it #here are some gripes i have tho #1) glimmer's decision at the end of s4 feels like it has no consequences #like for starters i'm annoyed that the issue ended being incredibly black or white and it zapped out the nuance of the respective decisions #but she's like alright i was completely wrong and after bow forgives her it's like... ok surely more people would have Opinions about this?#but no they don't. missed opportunity #but the problem in shows like these (idk if it's different outside western animation) is that there's no budget to deal with--#--cities and kingdoms having people. which makes them feel like shells that have little substance beyond being a narrative device #and yes everything in a show/piece of media IS a narrative device but you know. you gotta hide that. that's the beauty of media #but like... there's a universe where glimmer's subjects saw the consequences of her actions and rose against her. that woulda been fun!#2) adora's conflict in the finale of ohhh i have to Fulfill my Destiny(TM) comes so out of nowhere. esp when she had been against the--#--whole destiny angle for the previous four seasons. suddenly she's burdened with it and it's clear that it's a way to isolate adora #but it's SO sloppily done and there's no buildup to it #and 3) woulda like if they did more with the first ones. there's a lot of potential there and maybe a more natural way of isolate adora #like have her have this crisis of 'there's no one here who can fully understand me' and i thought that was what they'd do with the--#--cat creature they introduce in S5? but just ends up being catra's magic animal sidekick #idk there was a lot there to investigate. bow's dad could've been a good resource to make that happen too #uhhh that's it mostly?#at the end of the day this kind of western animated shows feel so pandering to kids. very formulaic and simple #tho i do respect that the show followed through the worst outcome in almost every occasion #(that's why catra compells me.... talk about a character who makes the worst decision at every point. she's just like me fr fr)#but yeah it was cute #i also like how bisexual the show felt at all times (except the ending where they were like ok monogamy is the goal but eh)#cute show. fun characters. easy 7/10 #catradora good #not great but eh #no show can give me compelling couples to obsess over (except for skam españa i guess)

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sparklestheunicorn · 11 months

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The cruellest thing erika johansen did to kelsea glynn was change her face.

#ME!#the tearling trilogy #i am thinking about this series again. with a bit of trouble considering i am in the middle of another book #but i remembered this i remembered how my mouth fell open in shock bc oh my god.#in queen she was blandly average looking. like. she was not pretty. she was not ugly. she just was.#i hated the focus on her looks but it became a plot point and i sort of forgive her #bc in invasion she starts having these visions of lily who lived a different life quite a while ago. and lily is pretty.#and kelsea does want to be pretty but she also doesnt want to become her mother and she feels that being pretty would help that #so shes content but she does wish a little that she was prettier. and then the jewels start showinf her visions of lily and lily is gorgeous #pretty even. the jewels give her lily's body lily's face. just in time for kelsea to bathe in her anger #and the fucked thing is that shes treated with more respect by everyone around her. (pen not included.)#(my boy pen was in love with her from the start and could never do any wrong)#but everyone else. no one in her guard said a goddamn word but they treated her differently #by the end of the old tearling she was yearning for her old face. she wanted her old face back so badly. she realised her mistake in wanting #to be pretty almost immediately and she wanted her old face back but the jewels never gave her that #all of this in turn made me hold my breath the first time she looked in the mirror in the new tearling.#she was begging for her face to be her face again and she almost cried (if im remembering correctly. or maybe that was me) when she saw her #own face staring back at her. out of the few good things the new world gave her. this was the best.

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lungtied-tonguelied · 1 year

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#vent post #feel free to skip #im worried within my relationship #im in a polyamarous relationship #my gf has another bf that im not involved with #she is pregnant and he's the dad but she's asked me to parent the baby too #i'm 100% for this i'm super happy and excited and can't wait to meet my first little baby #but the bio dad has never been super comfy with the idea of me dating my gf #he doesn't like us being romantic or anything in front of him and i've respected that as far as i can #but they hang out a lot more than me and my gf do and i wish i could spend more time with her #because in the end its his bio baby and at any point they could get rid of me #but i love this baby so much i would be genuinely devastated to not be apart of baby's life #i just worry that gf is gonna realise she doesn't want/need me anymore since she has bio dad bf #sorry that was a lot of tags

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rubys-domain · 9 months

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so... i think i've achieved consistent one-phase pyro regisvine by leveling up kazuha's burst to 6 and bennett's aquila favonia to 85. which is good. but it can be better. i want to get to the point where popping chongyun's burst is enough to kill it. for now i still have to do some normals and a second pop of his skill in order to kill it

#⇢₊˚⊹ 🩷∥ruby∥yo，ide yo !!#after raising kazuha's burst to level 9 i'll work on bennett's burst next #i want to exhaust all other options first before crit fishing yet again #i would crown bennett's burst as a sort of thank you for carrying me through the entire game alongside chong #but i want to triple crown cyno first #plus talent level 10 is a massive investment and for now i just don't think it's worth the hassle #i have 6 crowns in total. 3 of which are for cyno while 2 will go to bennett and xingqiu's bursts respectively #still haven't decided who to give the last crown to #i love collei and she was part of my main team the longest out of the other flex members #but i just don't use her outside of archery puzzles these days. and those don't require high talent levels #yanfei is my third dps but i don't feel as strongly attached to her yet as i do chongqiunett collei and cyno so idk if i'll crown her #i might triple crown xingqiu tho if the day ever comes when the temptation to build him as a dps finally consumes me #cuz i'll definitely have at least one more crown by the time that happens #in any case，i'll hold on to the last crown for now and see what happens #(yes i know there's no real point in leveling up cyno's normals. but my first triple-crown is chongyun; that should be enough to tell you #that i crown my characters out of Love™ and not practicality #(although i do have to think about that too. crowns are limited after all. if i had my way i would also triple crown benny qiu and collei)#(and also level all of them to 90 because sentimentality is a force that has become too strong for me to beat)#(it is kinda satisfying to see their exp slowly inching upwards tho. benny's about two-thirds away from level 81)#(i only wish i ascended all of them at once so exp would serve as a metric to see who gets the most use)

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galariangengar · 11 months

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I’m hoping to finish and post my “Welcome Home” OC today, I’m so close to finishing, I just need to finish coloring the dress. I’d also like to start sketching out a piece for my “Welcome Home x K-12” AU too. Also been thinking about finally getting the guts to post some fanfics I started awhile ago, maybe for now just the one relating to my FNAF SB OC…

#also think I should send a couple of emails about some school shit #I should ask a couple of things and get a bit of clarification before going through with something next month #I know I gotta get back on my feet and do something with my life even while things haven’t gone right #I should get some kinda job even if it’s like data entry just so I can make/save up some money #I gotta have some kinda purpose and put myself out there etc etc #I know my dad is right but I wish he would say these things in a gentler way #the way he talks to me about shit like this always makes me feel worthless and like a failure #and it physically makes me unable to approach him or talk to him and makes me more anxious #… being an adult is scary even more so when other adults in your life don’t help you/talk to you in a respectful gentle way or understand u #I still gotta go apologize to one of my best friends for not replying to her when she messaged me last week to check up on me…#I just know I’m gonna cry but I should apologize and talk to her about everything that’s happened that past couple weeks #jazz uses curse! 💜

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barbieaemond · 4 months

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Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

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

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

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

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @chompchompluke @arcielee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lay on the bed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was indeed the good part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

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

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

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

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

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Neither does you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

"It is too soon to talk about love."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

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

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

"Aemond, what's going on?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I take it off?"

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

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

"It is not pleasant."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lykirī."

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

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

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

“You don’t have to—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

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

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wishful-seeker · 7 months

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Tips on how to avoid being unintentionally ableist

1. When a disabled person says they cannot do something, and you wish to offer solutions, do not make a solution that involves them powering through pain, or something thats not accessible to the disabled.

Example:

Disabled person: "washing dishes hurts too much and i cannot do it."

Abled person: "what if you did one dish at a time throughout the day?"

This statement is not respecting that this disabled person just said they "can't". Always respect that. No matter how simple the task would be for you.

Disabled person:" i think ill use plastic silverware so i don't make dishes."

Abled person: "plastic is bad for the environment!"

This statement shuts down the most accessible and disabled friendly option that this disabled person can actually do because of the abled persons personal beliefs. This is not helpful, and ableist.

Better yet, instead of offering solutions, ask them directly "is there anything you need that you do not have that would help you do this?" This allows the disabled person to think about what would work, and they will always have a better idea of what would work than you do.

To add on to this, when we say we have no more energy to solve a problem or do a task, or change our lifestyle, we mean it.

2. If you feel discomfort when a disabled person is talking about their health, good and bad, that is ableist. Your discomfort is coming from a place that deams disabled peoples very existence as a bad thing and you need to fix that.

For example:

Disabled person:" this week has been rough pain wise, ive been through a lot, felt like my body was on fire. Lucky i got new meds though and i think they're helping!"

Abled person: "can we talk about something else, this is a bummer."

Disabled people should be able to exist freely without worrying about your personal comfort. Do you really think its appropriate to tell someone in constant pain that their life is making YOU uncomfortable?

3. Do not treat disabled people as tragedies, do not romanticize their old life or put their current one down.

For example:

Disabled person: "yeah my life is pretty difficult sometimes, ive lost a lot but i still have happy moments."

Abled person: "it makes me so sad to see what disabled people go through :(. You used to love rock climbing and running, i would love to see you move around more again."

This statement is putting more value on the disabled persons abled past, and ignoring their life as a whole.

4. Do not avoid speaking to disabled people because it hurts to see your loved one disabled.

For example: my grandmother avoids conversations with me because it hurts her to see me in pain. While she has good intentions it leaves me being unable to be close to her. This is very isolating to the disabled.

5. Do not stop inviting your disabled friend/loved one out even if they are never well enough to attend. Unless we specifically ask you to stop asking if we can go out, good chances are we want to know you still care because again, disability is very isolating.

6. When a disabled person says certain things in their health have gotten better or worse, do not challenge this because you don't see a difference.

For example:

Disabled person: "yeah things are getting a little better"

Abled person sees disabled person using their wheelchair like usual: "i thought you said you were getting better?"

Better and worse are usually small changes only the disabled experience, its not like abled people healing from a broken arm. Better to a disabled person could mean they can stand for 10 more minutes.

7. Do not expect disabled people to ever be abled again, and again, do not put more value on an abled life.

For example:

Disabled person:"I have been using a wheelchair for 2 years."

Abled person: "oh you're young, im sure you'll be walking around in no time!"

This statement invalidates and ignores the disabled persons current life by hoping they get a more abled bodied life. Its fine to hope disabled people get better, but you don't get to decide what better looks like.

Hope this helps, stay punk.

#cripple punk #ablism #physical disability #disability

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skipper1331 · 15 days

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Secret // Alexia Putellas

| Part 2 | Part 3 |

Everybody knew that Alexia was a private person - she only shared the information she wanted to share as she was very selective in her choice of words and very careful about whom she told what.

And even though that facade dropped around her friends and family, she still kept you a secret - she preferred it that way - having you to herself and not having to deal with headlines like 'Alexia Putellas dating her Barcelona teammate.' and the drama that it could cause.

Whenever it was just the two of you she was the sweetest girl, treating you like a princess and being totally in love with you while when other people were around, she kept her distance, acted strictly professional and didn‘t show any signs of affection.

The only person who knew about you was her sister, Alba and she only found out by accident.

"mi amor, you‘re so beautiful" the midfielder admired, kissing along your jaw, "I can‘t get enough of you" she found her way down to your neck, completely lost in the feeling of you before a certain spot on your neck caught her attention where she gently created reddish marks.

Just because nobody knew about you, didn’t mean that it would stop Alexia from silently claiming you.

Her fingertips ran along your exposed skin as your shirt had riddled up, leaving the midfielder craving for more.

The Barcelona player continued to mumble sweet nothings, planting some last even sweeter kisses on your neck before she reached up to your lips, kissing them with every ounce of love. Alexia always kissed you like that, letting you know that you caused the butterflies in her stomach.

Tugging on your shirt, she signaled that she wanted it off. Happily obeying, you took it off, her hands now wandering around your bare upper body as she was back kissing you with so much passion and love.

"Ale- do you know what-" both of you froze at the same time, your girlfriend shielding your exposed body as her sister stood in the door frame, "oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!" she covered eyes, rushing out of the room and slamming the door shut.

"mierda!" Ale was off of you in an instant, throwing your shirt back to you.

"I‘m Alba!" the younger Putellas called threw the door, "we haven‘t meet yet. I‘m her sister!"

You chuckled - wrong move as Alexia glared at you, marching out of her bedroom.

"Do you ever knock?!" she said angrily, pulling her sister away, giving you the time you needed.

"I thought you were asleep! You didn‘t open the front door when I knocked" the sister defended herself in their mother tongue.

Alexia huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "so, who‘s she?" Alba asked.

Perfectly timed, you exited the bedroom, walking towards the sisters in the living room, "I’m Y/N" you smiled nicely, offering your hand.

"Alba" she introduced herself once again, returning your smile and shaking your hand.

"She‘s my girlfriend" the midfielder huffed, annoyed that her little sister caught you, "20€ if you don‘t tell anyone about it" the older one said.

She would pay money to keep you a secret? Don‘t get me wrong, you didn‘t want to be public as you loved the privacy both of you had as individuals and together but you did hope for that she would at least tell your friends and family. All you wanted was to hold her hand and not to worry about standing too close to her.

The sparkle in your eyes died down, feeling stings in your heart but nonetheless respecting Alexia‘s wishes.

"I don‘t need your money" Alba stated when she saw the way your face fell, "you could have just said please."

You felt more than rejected in that moment.

"You won‘t tell anybody about this" she ordered this time now, her jaw clenched and voice firm - captains order.

Alba walked towards the door, "I‘m going to the car, mamá is waiting. Hurry up" before she left, only Alexia and you left in her apartment.

"I‘m sorry amor, I forgot that we were having lunch together." the midfielder explained, not knowing nor realizing that her behavior had hurt you as she was just apologizing for the incident of Alba walking in.

"You can stay if you‘d like" she smiled, putting on her shoes.

After she had laced her last shoe, she pulled you in by your hips, kissing you good bye, getting a bit carried as the feeling of your lips locked was addicting.

You loved being Alexia‘s girlfriend but you didn‘t like being her secret.

To be honest, it didn‘t bother you at first but after 6 months, you started to think about at least telling your family (officially you hadn‘t even met Alba before) and friends but every time you proposed the idea of it, she got defensive and annoyed, so you didn‘t bring it up again.

After one year, you slowly started to think that maybe she was ashamed of being seen with you, just being with you or of you as her behavior got more and more secretive day by day - she didn‘t even act like your friend in training.

You didn‘t know where it was coming from because whenever you were behind closed doors, she was the most affectionate person who loved to cook for you or just sharing the same air made her heart and brain go love sick. She was indeed very much in love with you yet afraid to show this love outside of either of your apartments.

Sometimes you wished that she would take you out for dinner - it didn‘t have to be fancy at all, McDonalds would be simply enough - you just wanted to experience a date night.

And even though, she made home as romantic as possible, it wasn’t enough anymore. You craved for more.

Sometimes when you saw Ingrid and Mapi openly in love, you felt jealous. You wanted that too.

They were your friends and you were so happy for them as they matched each other perfectly but you couldn’t help but feel envy. You envied what they have, imagining how it would feel like with Alexia - hoping to have that with Alexia, one day.

"Do you want to go out tonight? Frido told me about this new restaurant!" you said smiling.

The midfielder looked up from her notebook, pausing the tv as she replayed Chelsea’s matches (the club Barcelona would face in the uwcl semi finals)

"Is it takeout?" she asked.

You shook your head - no. "We can go out" you tried again, flopping next to her on the couch.

"Amor!" she grumbled as all her notes fell to the ground, now not sorted anymore.

"Sorry"

"I‘m preparing for our upcoming matches, you should join me in fact, so you know how Chelsea will play. We can order takeout - you know I don‘t like going out with you" she sorted through her notes, grumbling and huffing at the non existing order. She hadn‘t realized that her words were harsh and in fact rude.

You got the message - she didn’t like going out(side) with you, she had made that very clear.

"I can get you some food from there tomorrow" she added, her voice gentle and the wrinkle between her brows gone as her notes were back in the correct order.

It didn‘t help though, you felt hurt. Was it that bad to be seen with you? You‘re a Barcelona player, her teammate - and friends get food together all the time, so why can‘t you get food together as friends? Nobody would suspect that the two of you were more than friends, right?

"Are you hungry? Do you want me to cook something for you, mi amor?"

Again, you shook your head, scrolling through your phone while you acted tough and unbothered by her comment as she didn‘t even notice how harsh her words had sounded before.

You sent a message in the group chat with Ingrid and Frido, asking if they wanted to try out the restaurant which the Swedish woman had discovered. Both of them agreed within seconds.

The two of you laid in bed, Alexia‘s arms wrapped around you as she whispered sweet nothings in your ear. It became a routine for Alexia to lull you to sleep while tracing patterns along your skin. She loved doing so and she loved watching you sleep - you looked at peace.

Something about tonight was different though. Normally, it wouldn’t take long for the captain to soothe you to sleep but after 30 minutes, you still were awake, mind seemingly not finding any rest.

"¿Qué pasa?" she whispered in the dark, gently pressing a kiss to the exposed skin on your shoulder.

"It‘s been over a year, Ale, when will you introduce me as your girlfriend? Or take me out on a date that isn’t in here?" your voice was almost inaudible. You knew it was a sensitive topic for Alexia, the girl always denying your requests on telling someone and shutting you out after the conversation and also avoiding you for the rest of the day. "Amor.. we‘ve talked about this" she said, pulling her hands off your body.

Coldness hit your body while the parts were her hands had rested burnt down.

You turned around, looking at her, the moonlight the only light source "all I’m asking is for some recognition." you admitted, almost pleading for her attention outside of either of your homes.

"But I see you. I see you in training and after training, why is it so important to you that people now? We won‘t have any privacy!" her voice raising slightly.

"Alexia… this has nothing to do with the media. I want to meet your family! Or go on a date and wear very nice clothes. Is that too much to ask for?"

"You‘re right. Lo siento, amor" her hands cupped your cheeks, resting her forehead against yours, "I‘ll try to be better"

Over the next few months, Alexia’s home started to become your least favourite place - you felt like you were trapped in a cage.

Nothing had changed.

She loved you behind closed doors while she couldn’t even look at you in training.

Each day that passed, more of your heart broke. Your motivation faded - football was your work and no longer a passion.

And Alexia could tell. Your passes were sloppy and your tackles were harsh.

As soon as you had arrived in her apartment, she began complaining about your attitude.

You were not having it.

You started yelling at each other, rude comments leaving both of your mouths,

"You promised me!" you shouted, all hidden anger and hurt discovering the surface, "you promised me and nothing has changed! I‘m your dirty little secret!" you spat.

"Alba knows about you, isn’t that enough?!"

"You offered her fucking money to keep her mouth shut!"

"What do you want?!"

"I can‘t do this anymore, Alexia. I don’t want to think about whether my girlfriend is ashamed of me or not."

"What are you talking about- amor?"

"I‘m worth more than that."

"Please- give me a chance"

"I did, Ale, more than once" you walked towards the front door, bending down to put on your shoes.

The captain followed, so overwhelmed by what was happening that her persona took some turns, "If you walk out that door, we‘re done!"

your hand was resting on the doorknob, ready to leave.

You looked at her, "Behind that door, we never existed anyway."

And with that being said, you left.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso image x reader #barca femeni #barca femini x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #fc barcelona femeni #barça femeni #barca women #barcelona femeni #barcelona women #fc barcelona women #espwnt x reader #espwnt

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