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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 days

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The Man 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stand behind the counter, ready to serve the next customer that comes through the door. If you thought the rush was bad, the lulls are worse. The time drags by as the clock seems to taunt you. You sigh again as you hear Bre clattering around in the back room. You’d rather be back there folding up empty boxes and scouring trays.

You yawn and waver on your feet. The small local cafe doesn’t have the consistent traffic of the franchised kiosk just down the block but there are still hectic rushes. The mornings just after nine, then at noon when the office workers run out for a refresh espresso or a lunchtime sweet, but the afternoons usually deliver no more than the errant college student on their laptop or a few friends in between visits to boutiques.

The door opens and you glance over at the man who walks through the door. He strikes you as out-of-place as he struts across the cafe, hitting a table with his thigh, and sneering at it as if it insulted his mother. He’s tall with broad shoulders, and his hair is slicked back while the sides of his head are buzzed. He wears a black turtle neck under and open jacket and a pair of matching slacks that show off his ankles. His loafers are a rippling grey and black snakeskin print with a shining silver buckle.

You grip the sides of the till as he approaches but he doesn’t look at you. You stare, a little put off by his lack of acknowledgement as he peers up at the menu. He steps forward, tapping his fingers on the counter as he blows out between his lips. A golden signet ring flashes on his pinkie. You’re still not sure he’s in the right place.

“Hello, sir, can I get you--”

“Shh,” he hisses and holds up his finger. You snap your mouth shut and blink. He squints at the menu. He hums, clucking as he gives a thoughtful look to the hand-painted letters. Alright?

You wiggle your foot impatiently, biting your tongue. You’re not an inherently rude person but some customers make you wish you were. You watch him and he finally lowers his chin.

“Oat latte. Half blonde espresso, half regular, with the toffee nut syrup and a sprinkle of cinnamon.”

You nod as you punch in his order. It’s quite the drink. Sometimes you think people just pile on to see how far they can push service workers. They can’t just have a simple drink. Some even request the temperature to the digit.

“Alright, got it, it’s fifty cents for the syrup, is that okay?”

“Fifty cents?” He echoes haughtily, “no, that’s not okay.”

“Um, okay, well, it’s uh, on the menu,” you crane to look behind you, “fifty cents for a flavour shot, twenty-five for whipped cream.”

“I didn’t ask about goddamn whipped cream. They don't charge me here, doll. Get me the goddamn drink,” he demands.

You reel. Admittedly, you’re new. You’re learning but your first lesson was simple; customers are awful.

“I can just take the syrup off, I guess,” you hit the x and the whole order disappears.

“Didn’t you hear me? No charge, honey. It’s on the house.”

You purse your lips and look at him. You raise a brow. Alright, this is a new one.

“Um, if you’d just hold on, I think... uh, I should ask--”

“Yeah, you better fucking ask,” he sneers as swipes at a stack of paper cups and sends them flying. You flinch out of the way and spin to burst through the door to the kitchen.

“Uh, Bre,” you say, “there’s a really angry dude out there and he wants a free latte so uh, what do I do about that?”

She looks over at you as she puts a tray of cookies on a cooling rack. She frowns and her forehead stitches. She pulls of her oven mitt and checks her fitbit.

“Shit, it’s Thursday,” she mutters as if it’s the end of time.

“Yeah, it is, so uh--”

She waves away your words with the mitt and tosses both on the counter as she hurries past you. Confused, you turn to follow her through the swinging door. You stay behind her as she goes to the till.

“Mr. Hansen, so lovely to see you, what were we getting today?” She chimes, more lively than you’ve ever heard you. At any other time, she’s dulcet, almost monotone, completely over the cafe lifestyle.

He scoffs and his eyes drift from her to you. He pokes his tongue into his cheek, “oat, toffee nut, half blond, half regular, cinnamon on top,” he notes each element tersely, “and how about you teach this one some goddamn manners.”

He glares at you and you give a wide-eyed look. You shrug at Bre as she glances over at you. She shakes her head subtly. You take a step back.

You grab a cup and she quickly takes it out of your hands, “I got it, stay out of the way.”

You put your hands up and back away. You don’t know what you did wrong. Who is this man? He smirks and hovers on the other side of the counter as he crosses his arms over his puffed chest. Bre brews a fresh espresso and steams the oat milk.

“I’m waiting, sweet lips,” he cups a hand to his ear, his other arm still over his chest.

You look back and forth.

“Apologise,” he demands.

Bre clears her throat and you glance over, your mouth falling open dumbly.

“Oh, uh,” you face the man again, “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know--”

“Well, now you fucking do,” he sneers as Bre places a cup down before him and a paper bag.

“Mr. Hansen, there’s a cinnamon bun for you too. We just took em out of the oven.”

“You’re such a dear, Bre Bear,” he cooes, sending you a venomous snarl.

You cringe as he spins and strides out with his fare. You watch after him, still thoroughly perplexed. Bre wipes the counter with a cloth.

“The next time he comes in, give him whatever he wants,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I didn’t... who is he?” You garble.

“Better you don’t know. Just think of him as the boss,” she sends you a desperate look, her eyes gleaming, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll smile and listen.”

She brushes you with her shoulder as she goes back into the kitchen. You furrow your brow and glance towards the door. The man’s just outside the windowed walls, watching you. He winks before he disappears beyond the next facade

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #series #drabble #the man #mob!au #au

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thesoftestirises · 2 years

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carry your throne

♡ pairing : aemond x reader ♡ rating : 18+. this is smut. like... toe curling, pearl clutching inducing, ‘what did he sayyyy?’ smut. minors dni. you will be blocked. ♡ word count : 4.5k ♡ warnings : light degradation, humiliation, quid pro quo set up (fr this could be read as prostitution - but only to one man), name calling, nipple play, breeding, sanctioned cheating, oral, aemond is kinda evil but he’s a sweetie on the inside i promise ♡ summary : If you had met under normal circumstances, you would have been expected to curtsy to him. But you and Aemond were far past societally expected niceties. ♡ a/n : if this seems familiar, it is! it’s a rewrite of the moon knight fic of the same name. i just felt it suited aemond so much it needed to be republished.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest?” A voice whispered into your ear, soft and teasing.

A familiar pair of hands moved to your waist, caressing your curves and playing with the laces of your gown. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin in response to the touch, your body growing warm at just the thought of the person behind you. Experience had not made you numb to the feeling those fingertips brought. You turned around to gaze into the single, pale blue eye you saw in your dreams.

“Prince Aemond,” you said, tilting your head downwards in a polite nod. If you had met under normal circumstances, you would have been expected to curtsy to him. But you and Aemond were far past societally expected niceties.

“Miss Y/N. That dress looks expensive,” Aemond said, his heavy gaze roaming around your frame before coming back to your own eyes.

Time had taught you that every conversation with Aemond went deeper than what was heard on the surface. Every exchange was a performance, an intricate dance where you would circle around the truth and try to gain the upper hand by pretending to care less than the other. There was always a double meaning to every word he said. You supposed it was a habit he picked up from being surrounded by two faced aristocrats. Cruelty masked as politeness, gossip masked as concern. Even though you were both well into adulthood, Aemond constantly made you feel like a clumsy little girl.

“Is it? I wouldn’t know,” you said. You kept your expression neutral and looked down at the vivid blue fabric draped over your body as if seeing it for the first time. As if you hadn’t spent two hours marveling at the intricate lacework before even trying it on. As if you hadn’t had to hide it under your bed to prevent anyone else from seeing and wondering why you were in possession of such a luxury. “After all, you were the one who bought it.”

He smiled in amusement and cupped your cheek, the cool metal of his signet ring pressed against your burning skin. “How’s Ron?”

You fiddled with your wedding ring without thinking. It was a gaudy thing, studded with sparkling gemstones that practically took up half your finger. Of course, none of them were real. As many things with Ron were, it was just for appearances. Appearances were all Ron could afford. All he cared about. His concern with what other people thought had driven the both of you into debt, leaving you to clean up his mess. But your solution to the problem was merely a house of cards. You just hoped it would last long enough for one of you to come up with a better solution than spreading your legs for your husband’s lender.

“He’s fine.”

Aemond hummed in acknowledgment. “Business is good, I presume?”

“It is.”

“Wonderful. Strip.”

You obeyed, quickly and efficiently removing your clothes. Aemond had little patience and didn’t care much for shows. In the beginning of your arrangement with him, he would tear the clothes off you himself if you weren’t quick enough. You had spent many nights hiding out in Aemond’s study until all his servants were off to bed so you could sneak out in a different gown than the one you had arrived in.

Aemond moved across the room to a red leather armchair and sat down while you set your discarded clothes down into a neat pile. You folded your hands in front of you and stared at him, waiting for further instruction. Every rendezvous with Aemond went a little differently. So differently, in fact, that you often felt like you were dealing with entirely different people who were simply wearing the same face. Sometimes, he just wanted you to stand in front of him while he stroked his cock to completion. Other times, he would pin you against a window and whisper immoral filth into your ear while rubbing your clit. Tonight, he watched you with a greedy glint in his eye as he dragged his gaze from your head down to your toes.

“Crawl.”

You sucked in a breath and sank to your hands and knees. The hardwood floors under your skin were unforgivingly cold, but acted as a welcome balm on your feverishly hot skin. You kept your gaze locked on Aemond’s lips as you moved forward, trying to remain as unbothered as possible to spite him. He liked humiliating you, just as he did with everyone else in his life. You tried to avoid giving him the satisfaction of shaming you. He already had more than enough power.

He stopped you with a simple hand motion when you got close enough to touch. “Sit.”

You leaned back and sat straight, allowing Aemond to brush your hair away from your face. You tilted your head up and allowed him to run his fingertips over your jawline, nose, and lips. His touch was gentle, warm, almost sweet. You hated how much you enjoyed it.

“When was the last time Ron fucked you?” Aemond whispered.

“Yesterday.”

He kept his expression neutral, but you could see the distaste on his lips. Perhaps he hated to be reminded that he had to share with someone he thought of as beneath him. “Did you like it? His cock?”

“Yes,” you replied, but it was a second too late. Aemond could easily see the hesitation written all over your face.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“What is it to you if I enjoy being fucked by my husband or not?” You said in a whispered hiss.

He smirked and stroked a thumb over your cheekbone. “Whatever are you so angry for, dove? Are you upset your husband can’t satisfy your cunt the way I do? Maybe next time we should invite him in. I could give him a proper lesson on how to tease and stroke your whore body.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and sneered. “Are you going to talk all day or are you going to fuck me, my prince?”

“Patience is a virtue, princess,” he grinned, his teeth appearing inhumanly sharp. He plucked an envelope from the table next to him, tearing it open with an ornate ivory letter opener and extracting the contents. He leaned back in his chair with all the assured air of a refined aristocrat and spread his legs. “Be a dear and busy your mouth, won’t you?”

You glared at him but he ignored you, choosing to focus on the paper he held in his hands instead. A tense silence settled in the room, only interrupted by the sound of Aemond’s drunken servants having their evening meal in the kitchen downstairs. You bit your tongue and sighed to yourself. Pride wasn’t something you could afford anymore. The sooner you sucked him off and gave him his release, the easier it would be for you to go home without drawing suspicion.

You placed a hand on Aemond’s thigh and listened to his pleased hum. The material of his trousers felt like silk, the type of rich and smooth fabric that only the ultra wealthy could afford. You ran your fingertips over the inner seam and drew closer and closer to his cock. His warmth seemed to radiate right through the clothing. It was addictive. You were almost tempted to rub your face against him like a cat in heat.

You glanced up and were annoyed to see he still wasn’t looking at you. You scowled and tugged at his belt, swiftly unbuckling it and loosening his trousers. Aemond’s cock was half hard, the soft skin flushed pink instead of the violent red you were more used to. You spat into your palm and wrapped your hand around the base, gently stroking him as you got yourself warmed up. Even though you’d taken Aemond many times and in multiple positions, his size still intimidated you. You gave the tip of his length a kiss before swiping your tongue over the head. He let out a quiet hum of approval and pushed his cock against your lips more insistently.

“Get on with it, princess. At this pace you’ll be here until sunrise,” he grunted.

You glared at him but obeyed, wrapping your lips around his flesh, his bitter mint flavor washing over your tongue. You found his taste remarkably tolerable, almost arousing. Like his essence was laced with some sort of aphrodisiac. You pressed your tongue up against the underside of his cock and sucked, drawing a pleased sigh from his lips. A steady trickle of precum began leaking from his tip and filling your mouth. You pressed your tongue into his slit and looked up to see if you had gotten his attention. Aemond stared back down at you with a glossy expression, his letter long forgotten on the floor by his feet.

You pulled your mouth off of him, leaving his cock slick and shiny with spit, and pumped his length with the hand you kept wrapped around the base. “Is this satisfactory, my prince?”

“I’ll be satisfied when that pretty face is coated in cum and tears,” he replied, his chest heaving as he dug his nails into the leather of his chair. “Choke on my cock, princess. Let me see you look ravished and thoroughly had. Do that for me and I’ll give you the world.”

You closed your eyes in response to his filth. How he managed to make the dirtiest things sound sexy and pleasurable, you’d never know. “As you wish, my prince.”

You lined his length up with your mouth and took it as far into you as you could. His flesh pressed up against your throat, restricting your air flow and getting your eyes to well up with tears, just as Aemond had wanted. You ignored the discomfort in your mouth and jaw and moved your head up and down over Aemond’s cock. Aesthetics came second to doing whatever got him to react. Eventually Aemond stopped you, pulling his length away from your mouth and taking your chin into his fingers.

“It’s a pity we don’t have a portrait artist on hand to capture the way you look right now,” he said, gently stroking your cheekbone with his thumb and mockingly pouting at you. “You know, I’ve always admired the way you carry yourself. So poised, so refined. One could easily mistake you for a landed lady. But when I see you like this, I can’t help but think this is where you truly belong.”

He pulled you up and into his lap, your back pressed against his chest as he explored your body with his hands. You pressed your legs together to try to control the dull throbbing in your core and bit back your urge to whine. Aemond placed his lips on your jaw and moved his hands upwards to pluck at your sensitive nipples. You squirmed and pressed back to try to evade the pleasure his fingers brought, but there was no escaping him. He had caged you in his arms, enveloping you into a pine scented embrace. And even if he wasn’t wrapped around you, you weren’t sure you would really want to leave.

“My pretty little dove,” he whispered, squeezing your breasts. “If I were your husband, I would have impregnated you four times over by now.”

“My prince,” you gasped. “Your words are dangerous.”

Aemond merely hummed in response, nibbling at the shell of your ear while continuing to circle and pinch at your buds. Once your nipples were swollen and fully sensitive to the touch, Aemond twisted your head towards him. You obediently let him press at your bruised lips with his fingers and explored his face with your eyes.

Prince Aemond was undeniably good looking. He had a head full of white blond hair, golden skin, a rare smile that could bring a woman to her knees. A god amongst men. But your favorite feature of his had always been his gaze. The raw, unrestrained power on one side, the ghost of his past written on the other. Even now, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked with his.

“Spread your thighs,” Aemond said.

You obediently opened your legs and leaned your head back against Aemond’s shoulder. His hands directly went to your folds, one hand keeping you spread open, the other playing with your aching clit. You closed your eyes nuzzled into Aemond’s neck as he touched you, circling your bead in a slow, steady pace.

“Sloppy little harlot. Dripping all over my fingers and staining my trousers,” Aemond said, pinching your clit. “No one fucks this body as well as I do. Right, dove?”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly, desperate to keep his hands on you.

“I’m going to prepare you for my cock, princess. Is that okay?”

“Please.”

Aemond chuckled and kissed your temple before taking your left hand into his. He ran his thumb over your palm and paused when he reached your wedding ring. He examined the glittering paste jewel before taking the band off and placing it on the side table next to him. You opened your mouth to protest but stopped when you noticed him taking off his signet ring. You knit your brows together and watched as he placed the ring on your finger where your wedding ring used to be.

“Hold that for me, won’t you?” he said, kissing the soft skin of your neck before playfully biting down.

You nodded and whined as he returned his fingers to your folds, this time focusing on your entrance. He circled your opening and pressed the pad of his finger in, teasing you without providing any release. You grabbed onto the arms of the chair you were both in and bit down on your lip.

“Please, my prince, I can’t take it,” you begged.

“What is it you wish for, dove?”

“Your fingers,” you breathed.

“And where would you like my fingers, hm? Your pretty breasts? Your sweet mouth?”

“Don’t tease me, my prince.”

“Oh,” he pouted, giving you a look of false pity. “I’m afraid I can’t help you unless you tell me where to touch you. So tell me, princess. Where does this lewd, whore body wish to be touched?”

“My cunt,” you said without hesitation, turning your head towards Aemond. Your gaze was so hazy, you could barely make out his facial features, yet you could easily focus on his berry tinted lips. You stared and longed to close the space between your bodies, to finally taste Aemond’s mouth. But some part of you, the logical part most likely, was demanding you keep your distance.

“Oh, my dove. Was that so hard?” He asked, pressing the finger he was teasing you with inside. You whimpered as Aemond began moving the digit in and out at a steady pace. “How are you always so tight? Is your husband even fucking you?”

“Sh-shut up,” you said, biting back your noises of pleasure. “Put another finger in.”

“Such filthy demands,” Aemond said, pretending to be shocked. He kissed your cheek and did as you asked, pushing another finger into your entrance and curling the digits inside to tease at your walls. You stiffened and let out a strangled cry, writing in Aemond’s arms as he pressed against every sensitive part of you. “Look, dove. Look at where I’m touching.”

You lowered your gaze to where your bodies were connected and groaned. Aemond’s fingers were glistening and flushed pink, dripping with your juices.

“Dirty, isn’t it? You can practically hear how wet you are. Listen,” he whispered in your ear as he parted your folds further to illustrate. “Do you hear that?”

You nodded, watching as Aemond rubbed your swollen clit with his thumb. Every time he moved his fingers, a slick, wet noise came from between your legs. You were mesmerized. Dizzy with pleasure, swept up in the desire that only Aemond could seem to bring out of you. He added another finger while you were lost in your thoughts and kept working you open.

You were only broken out of your trance by the brush of Aemond’s lips against your ear as he spoke. “Are you ready to continue?”

“Yes, my prince.”

He smiled, his sharp teeth on full display once more. You shivered, half in arousal, half in anticipation. He slipped an arm under your knees and another around your shoulders and lifted you up. You snuggled in close as he settled you onto his desk and cleared off the space behind you. The edges of the mahogany table felt harsh and unyielding underneath your hips, but you could barely focus on that when Aemond had his hands on your thighs.

“Beg for my cock, princess.”

“My prince,” you said, cupping the side of his face and brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. “I need you inside me. Take me. Please.”

He smirked down at you and loosened his tie. You laid down and stared up at him as he positioned himself at your entrance. The two of you had engaged in this illicit dance so many times, and yet each time felt like the first. You placed your hands on his chest, curiously stroking the silky fabric of his shirt. The material was thin, allowing you to feel the muscles he hid under his clothing. You briefly lamented the fact that he rarely ever had the patience to strip for you. While you were lost in thought, he took one of your hands and brought it to his lips, softly kissing it before placing it over his heart.

You let out a deep breath and winced as he began pushing inside. He stroked the skin of your hips and made sure to move slowly, keeping his gaze on your face. The pain mixed with pleasure until you could no longer tell which feeling was which. Every nerve in you had been set on fire, the warm arousal in the pit of your stomach flaring up to a heat that rivaled the sun. He bottomed out in you after what felt like an eternity and waited for you to whine at him before he moved.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “I’ll give you what you want, dove. Don’t worry. I’ll tend to your every desire.”

You were too delirious to respond to him, lost in the overwhelming feeling of him filling what felt like every empty space in your body. His warmth, his scent, his touch - he overwhelmed you. He moved in a slow, deep rhythm, careful not to hurt you as he reacquainted your body with his. His consideration for you was sweet, but unnecessary. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped harshly at his shirt.

“I’m not made of porcelain, my prince. Please go faster.”

“Last time I obeyed your commands, I got an angry letter from your keeper,” Aemond said, keeping his slow rhythm steady as sweat began to gather on his brow. “Apparently you told him I had fucked you so harshly, you couldn’t bare to take another cock for two weeks.”

You flushed with heat and looked down in embarrassment. “I was fine.”

“Oh, so you lied?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“Will you fuck me properly or not?”

“Tell me why you lied to your husband, truthfully, and I’ll give you as many orgasms as your body can handle.”

You hesitated. The rational part of your mind screamed at you not to give someone as manipulative as Aemond information that could destroy you. But the part of you that was at the helm, the animal instincts that polite society had demanded you keep suppressed, thought destruction at the hands of your secret lover sounded seductive. “I did not want to lay with him.”

His lips curved into a slow smile, as if he had been expecting that answer all along. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I wasn’t aware ‘marriage counseling’ was one of your areas of expertise, my prince,” you sarcastically replied. “Fuck me harder or I’ll get myself off.”

At that he frowned, grabbing your hands and pinning them down at your sides. “You are the most infuriating little creature I’ve ever met.”

“Likewise, my prince.”

His lip twitched in displeasure before he slammed into you without warning. You gasped, digging your nails into his desk to keep yourself grounded as Aemond began fucking you relentlessly. Though his rhythm was meant to be a punishment, you enjoyed it far more than you should and quickly found yourself hovering over the edge. You only needed a little push to fully get yourself there. You attempted to move a hand between your thighs to rub your clit, but were still trapped by Aemond’s unyielding grip.

“Let my hand go,” you demanded.

“What for?”

“I need to come.”

“And you thought I’d just let you take your pleasure after how rude you’ve been to me tonight?”

You frowned petulantly. “You promised.”

“You didn’t get it in writing,” he smirked. “But I’ll make you a deal, hm? I’ll deliver everything I promised you if you say one, simple phrase.”

You paused and looked at him skeptically. “What phrase?”

He gave you a gentle smile, bringing a hand to your hairline and wiping away the sweat that had gathered there. “Say that you love me.”

You froze. This was cruel, even for him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” He asked, slowing the pace of his thrusts until he stopped entirely and released his grip on your wrists.

“Both,” you snapped.

“Why not?”

“Because,” you said, looking away from him as your eyes began to flood with tears. You kept your gaze fixed on a painting of a flower vase and willed yourself to stay calm. You had done everything to prevent yourself from developing feelings, villainizing him in your own mind so you wouldn’t have to suffer the pain of loving someone you could never have. Somehow, despite all odds, he had found you out. You felt embarrassed, ashamed. You were fearful that he’d throw your feelings back in your face, unable and unwilling to reciprocate.

Aemond brought the hand on your forehead down to your jaw and forced you to look at him.

“My princess,” he murmured, his brows drawn together. “Even if you do not say it, I want you to know that I do. Love you, that is.”

“My prince-“

“Aemond,” he corrected.

You licked your lips and nodded. “Aemond, we can’t. I’m a married woman, and you’re a respected member of this community. This affair was bad enough, but to get our emotions involved- this could ruin you.”

“I don’t care,” Aemond replied. “I need you, all of you. My entire life I’ve wanted for nothing. I understand the value of wealth and power, but all of these things that surround me are just baubles to show off to others. I could live without these things. But you, I could never live without you. I crave you. I think about you constantly. You are the only person in my life who I feel at ease with. Everything beautiful and pure in this world reminds me of you. Please, my love. Don’t give up on us before we even have the chance to try.”

You blinked up at him, searching his expressive gaze and only finding affection and overwhelming adoration. “I love you, Aemond.”

He grinned and leaned down, pressing his mouth against yours for the first time. He tasted surprisingly sweet against your tongue and you couldn’t get enough. You tangled your fingers into his soft hair, parting your lips and sighing into the kiss. He shifted his hips back and forward against yours, reminding you he had never pulled out.

You broke the kiss to look at Aemond incredulously. “Did you seriously stay hard that whole time?”

“You know how much I like it when you cry, my love,” he replied, nipping at your lower lip before moving to lick one of your tear stained cheeks.

You shivered in disgusted arousal. “You are a perverted man.”

“I know,” he said, stealing a quick kiss from your lips before moving back to his earlier position. He gripped the back of your knees and looked down at you with a smirk. “But you seem to like that, hm? Maybe that’s something we should explore.”

“Later,” you said, gasping as Aemond’s cock began pressing against a sensitive area inside you. “Oh, right there.”

He wordlessly continued hitting the spot, keeping a steady rhythm as he brought you back to the precipice. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the feeling he evoked inside of you becoming too much for you to handle. At that moment, he moved a hand down to the apex of your thighs and pressed his thumb against your clit. Your climax overwhelmed you, blocking out your vision and leaving you writhing in the aftershocks of pleasure. Aemond finished a few moments after you did, carefully pulling out before finishing on your stomach. You winced as he dragged his fingers through the mess he made and smeared the sticky fluid over your cheeks and lips.

“You make the prettiest picture like this,” he said, massaging the fluid into your skin as best as he could while you squirmed and shot him an annoyed look.

Once you came down from your post coital haze, you looked at Aemond apprehensively. “Did you mean everything you said earlier?”

“Of course I did,” he frowned. “I love you, and I’d do anything to have you.”

“Does that include leveraging your financial control over my husband to take his wife?”

“I did say anything, didn’t I? Don’t worry, I have plans for dear Ronald.” Aemond smirked and gently placed his hands on your hips. “Suppose a certain prince who Ronald was indebted to noticed a few discrepancies in his ledgers? Fraud is a serious crime, my love, especially when you’re defrauding nobility. That’s a guaranteed prison sentence for dearest Ronald. But oh, he would be leaving behind a beautiful wife to fend for herself. Would it be so bad if the handsome prince that Ronald defrauded kindly decided to take in his helpless, pretty wife? It would only be the honorable thing to do.”

You giggled and pulled Aemond down to brush your nose against his. “And would this handsome prince be marrying Ronald’s wife?”

“If Ronald’s wife permits, the handsome prince would not only marry her, he would fill her womb as many times as she likes,” Aemond said.

“I think she’d like that,” you replied, stealing a kiss.

#prince aemond #prince aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #irisposts

4K notes · View notes

pippin-katz · 8 months

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Alright, I have mostly restrained myself, but I cannot stay quiet any longer. There is a question that has been eating at me...

Whose fucking idea was it to have Henry (Nicholas) constantly grabbing Alex's (Taylor's) hair?!

Note: I'm adding this in after finishing writing this because this was supposed to be a relatively short post, and then it spiraled out of control, so if you want to listen to me gradually lose my sanity over this question, feel free to keep reading, cause it is admittedly funny lmfao

Another Note: This is me being overly sarcastic and hyper cause it’s funny for me to think about that situation. This is supposed to be a funny post. I said that at the end, but I’m adding it here too.

Listen, remember what they said about the intimate scenes: they were planned down to every detail. Remember what Nicholas said about having conversations with Taylor, Matthew, and Robbie about boundaries, what was okay, and not okay. Remember that they have A LINE IN THE FILM ABOUT HENRY GRABBING HIS HAIR (iconic).

Do you see it? Do you see where this is going?

The hair pulling/grabbing is not random. It doesn't happen in just the New Year's kiss to set up a funny line later.

It happens all the time.

Even in soft moments, Henry has a hand in his hair.

The hair grabbing gets its own shot in their love-making scene.

Consistent small actions (twisting a ring, biting nails, drumming with fingers, etc.) are character habits. They're things that they do all the time, subconsciously or for a decisive reason, usually if you know that action causes a specific response that you want for any reason.

There's a coworker that drives you crazy, so you purposefully hum really loudly whenever they're in the room to piss them off. Your friend has a sensitivity to the color red, so on days you know you're going to see them, you avoid wearing it. Your partner has muscle cramps, so you massage their shoulders whenever you're standing behind them.

These habits usually start as conscious decisions, then gradually become subconscious, hence the term "habit". You've been doing something for so long or for frequently enough that you do it while on "autopilot".

I think it's pretty obvious why this action happens. It's because A: Henry likes feeling of his hair, and/or B: Alex likes when someone touches his hair. Note: This could be in any context, not just sexual; running fingers through it, washing it, styling it, etc.

Either you figured out what I am going to say, and you're wondering why I'm blabbering on so much, or you're just confused about where I'm going with this at all, so here's where it all clicks together.

When you have a character, habits are something you give them to give them more personality, more insight into their mentality through subtle things they do. It's something the director/writer/actor chooses to give to the character.

BUT - nothing in the intimacy scenes happen without being discussed and agreed upon.

This isn't like Nicholas fidgeting with the signet ring to show Henry's nerves. This isn't like Taylor frequently making little hand gestures (peace signs, finger guns, tapping the side of his glass, etc.) because Alex has undiagnosed ADHD and that's one way to physically imply it.

They can do those things without being told or given "permission" because it's their portrayal of the character, it doesn't effect anyone else, and small details like that are typically up to the actors, unless the director is incredibly strict.

BUT - AGAIN WITH FEELING - NOTHING IN THE INTIMACY SCENES HAPPEN WITHOUT BEING DISCUSSED AND AGREED UPON.

That means that someone, one of the four of them, brought up grabbing his hair as a suggestion, and further more, Taylor (and Nick, but obviously Taylor's consent is more important in this specific case) was fine with it.

Think about it. Think about them sitting around a table discussing the kinds of stuff that Matthew and Robbie would want to see, and what Nick and Taylor would be okay with. Think about the fact that one of them was sitting there, and looked at the other three, and said: "What if Henry grabs Alex's hair a lot?"

And then the four of them had to sit there, and talk, in depth, about what that would mean.

*inhale*

Who... the fuck... said it?

WHO SAID IT?!

Did Matthew and Robbie present it as part of the initial planning?? Or did one of them look Taylor and Nick in the eye and say it?? Did Nick throw it out there as something he thought Henry would do?? Was it Taylor??? Since it's his hair???

Cause it's not just like, running Nick running his fingers through it, combing it during some tender moment, like when Alex talks about his father being an immigrant.

HE FUCKING GRABS IT.

What the fuck were these conversations like?! I cannot think of a single way to have that conversation where someone wouldn't have to say something that would make me make me go UHHH-

What? So - Matthew's like "how do you guys feel about touching each other's hair?" -and they're like "what, you mean like running our fingers through it?" -and he's like "nah yanking it while you're making out"

Like... what do you say to that?! - "oh which one of us would do it to the other?" -and what, did Taylor fucking volunteer?? Just like - "he can pull my hair, it's chill" - WTF?!

Or did he suggest it in the first place, like they were discussing things that would that could be part of Alex and Henry's dynamic and he's just like - "he could pull my hair?" -and the other three just stared at him for a second, because wtf that's a intensely intimate action to suggest?!

Hair touching in general is really intimate, in like, every context, at least I think to most people, and definitely to me. Most people wouldn't just let someone, even someone they were friends with, start playing with their hair or touching their head. I wouldn't even let my best friend randomly touch my head; I would instinctually try to bite their hand off (not a joke). Maybe I'm a slight bit more touch-repulsed than most, but I feel like it's safe to say that the majority of people don't want their hair and head being touched, grabbed, or played with unless they say so.

And again, they do it CONSISTENTLY. It's not a one and done scene. It is an actual dynamic between Alex and Henry they chose to establish.

SO I ASK AGAIN: WHOSE IDEA WAS IT?!

I'm looking at you four, Matthew, Robbie, Taylor, and Nicholas. I know it was one of you cheeky bastards that suggested it. One of you brought it up, and the rest of you were like "sure".

I will be forever haunted by this mystery, as I doubt I will ever get an answer.

Note: Please don't take this super seriously. I'm not trying to imply anything; I'm literally just joking around cause the concept of having that conversation boggles my mind lol

#lol you thought my next essay would be another one shot analysis #but autistic and have adhd #so you have to wait lmfao #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #rwrb thoughts #alex claremont diaz #taylor zakhar perez #henry hanover stuart fox #nicholas galitzine #matthew lopez #robbie taylor hunt #firstprince

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taylorswiftstyle · 3 months

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Chiefs vs Ravens | Baltimore, MD | January 28, 2024

Mejuri ‘Heirloom Ring in Garnet’ - $598.00 EB and Co ‘Tight End Ring’ - $14.00 Wear by EA x Baublebar ‘Chiefs Necklace’ - $43.99 Jacquie Aiche 'Large Marquise Diamond Pave Signet Ring' - $6,250.00 Wove Made x Michelle Wie West 'Custom Diamond Tennis Bracelet' - $5,680.00 (starting)

By contrast from her relatively non-descript outfit, Taylor went all out with sentimental and Chiefs-approved jewelry including her #SarahExact Mejuri ring. Not only is it very Taylor to wear her heart proudly in this fashion but it's also very Taylor to execute such a high/low mix here. From solid gold forever rings (I will personally vouch for that Heirloom ring from the rooftops), to custom and classy diamond-encrusted tennis bracelets mixed with pieces by women-owned (or women-designed) and locally-made designers. I've so loved seeing her continue to underscore her long-standing fashion pillars even into her game day fashion.

That's Taylor: An enviable mix of aspirational and approachable, all while being unabashedly emotional.

Photo by Rob Carr via Getty Images

#taylor swift #candid #jewelry #mejuri #eb and co #wear by ea #baublebar #wove made #michelle wiewest #jacquie aiche #january 2024 #kc chiefs

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cobragardens · 7 months

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The Golden Lion

For all that Aziraphale is the more frightened of the two of them, Crowley is the snake: he camouflages himself carefully, and his first instinct is always to flee.

Aziraphale's is to stay. He insists on facing the Apocalypse. He insists on facing the Second Coming. He insists on trying to make a difference. He doesn't want to go up to Heaven, but he does it anyway, alone, because he wants to stop the destruction of Earth (again) and keep Crowley safe.

He's very difficult to shame, too. He never gives up his innocent pleasure in eating, even though Heaven, Hell, and probably people on Earth all mock him for it. He's soft and he remains soft, even after Gabriel shames him for both his physical and metaphorical softness. That takes a lot of strength and an unshakeable character.

You know the gold ring Aziraphale wears as a badge of office, that functions as the counterpart to Crowley's snake tattoo? The charge on that ring is a lion.

The heraldic attitude of the lion is rampant (i.e., reared up): it stands on its hind legs with its forelegs raised, as though attacking, and its head is forward-facing: it looks forward, toward the future.

Obviously in popular symbolism, lions represent bravery, and that definitely fits Aziraphale. He's literally leaving the only person who has ever loved him to go make the universe a better place for that person and for everyone, and he's going alone amongst the people who have despised and shamed him his whole existence and tried to kill him at least once; those people are mfing Heaven and have been entrenched in their power for thousands or millions of years. It doesn't get a whole lot braver than that.

In Christian symbolism specifically, the lion represents Christ. (He's referred to in the book of Revelation as the "lion of Judah" because the heraldic symbol for the tribe of Judah was a lion and Jesus was said to be from the tribe of Judah because his [step]father Joseph was from Judah.)

Normally when a story draws a parallel between a character and Christ, the parallel is one of self-sacrifice. That's not what's happening here. When symbolism for Christ represents his self-sacrifice, Jesus is invariably associated with a lamb--the sacrificial lamb--not a lion. When that symbolism represents Christ's mercy or holiness or divine nature/ordination, the dove of the Holy Spirit is used.

But the lion is a symbol inherited from the Old Testament. It represents royalty, power, threat, and seizure from others by force. Jesus is symbolically depicted as the lion upon his return to Earth during the book of Revelation. The lamb is Jesus' self-sacrifice and death for the sins of humanity, but the lion is Jesus' return, powerful, royal, and triumphant.

Does Aziraphale's ring foreshadow his involvement in the Second Coming of Christ? Probably! Is it a symbol that Heaven is the proverbial (and biblical) "lions' den" where they should be doves and lambs? Maybe.

I think it more likely that Aziraphale himself will be the lion, on a righteous rampage like Jesus chasing the moneylenders from the steps of the temple, telling them "It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves." Because the ring is a signet ring, meant to impress a seal that legally represented the wearer as an individual. So the lion is linked to Aziraphale himself.

Aziraphale is soft. It is one of his very best qualities. And soft and weak are not the same thing: because he is soft, he tried to kill the Antichrist, a child. Because he is soft, he stood alone before a demon in defiance of the will of Heaven and demanded with no power whatsoever to back him up that the demon spare children whose murder God had authorized. He, an angel of God, worked with a demon to deceive the Heavenly Host and, as he points out himself, thwart the will of God. Even before that, because he was soft, Aziraphale gave humans the gift of fire and self-protection and then lied to God Herself about it. I mean it literally does not get any more courageous than that.

And I can't stop thinking about what that lion, and that softness, and the link between the two is going to mean for S3.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens aziraphale's ring #aziraphale's ring #aziraphale #good omens analysis

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cal-flakes · 9 months

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╰┈➤ soft spot

warnings: light swearing, mean!rafe (not really just teasing)

summary: rafe cameron has a soft spot for routledge!reader, who turns out to be nothing like her brother.

“what’cha reading?” rafe hummed, startling her as he appeared from behind her, crouching down to sit beside her on the sand. y/n stared at him for a moment, puzzled as to why rafe cameron had just vacated his get together at the island club to bother her. “like you care..” she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned back to her book, flicking the page delicately.

“woah- what’s that all about, huh?” he teased, a slight tone of arrogance laced in his voice as he pulled the book away from her, causing her to jump up in attempt to snatch it back. she watched in frustration as he peered at the words on the cover, his brows furrowing. “american psycho?” he muttered to himself before chuckling as he turned to face her again. “you read some weird shit y/n..” he laughed, handing her the book back as he leant against the side of same tree trunk she’d been resting on.

“go away rafe..” she sighed, waving him off. “awh don’t be like that, i just want to talk to you y/n..” he pouted, placing his head on her shoulder. shooing him away, y/n huffed as she placed the book back into her bag, accepting her fate.

“don’t you have someone else to bother cameron? I’m sure my brother and his friends are close by..” she spat, staring up at him in annoyance. “meh, they bore me, you’re much more fun” he taunted, his eyes flitting to the waves crashing infront of them. “whatever, what do you want?”

“why do i have to want something? i can’t just have a conversation?” he gasped, feigning offence as he pulled away slightly, his mouth hanging open. “you always want something rafe. money, drugs, heyward’s beer..” she snapped, taking a jab at him for what he did to pope a while back.

“low blow man, i apologised for that!” he argued, folding his arms across his chest, causing her eyes to fix on his exposed biceps for a split second.

snap out of it, she thought. quickly turning her attention back to the tall, annoying boy, she stared at him in an attempt to prompt an uncomfortable silence.

“okay, maybe what i did to your friend was shitty, but i’m a better person now! and if you’d just let me prove it…” he suggested sheepishly as he fidgeted with the signet ring on his finger. “prove it? what do you mean?” she queried, once again oblivious to his constant advances.

“jesus, are you always this slow?” he chuckled, yet he was quick to furrow his brows when she turned away dramatically. “wait- no, i didn’t mean that! shit i- i’m sorry y/n! i just mean i want to take you out, show you that i’m nothing like what your brothers told you!” he plead, shuffling around the large tree to cage her in, forcing her to listen.

“if i say yes will you go away and let me read in peace?” she hummed, not bothering to look up from the book in her hand once again. “of course” he nodded, holding back the grin threatening to spread across his lips.

“okay then, yes, you can take me out sometime..” she stated, meeting his eyes as she glanced up at him. “okay, um- great! i’ll pick you up tomorrow?” he suggested, staring at her expectantly.

“sure, you know where i live..” she sighed, turning back to the book as a small smile appeared on her face.

“perfect, i’ll see you tomorrow, be ready at eight!” he spoke excitedly, returning to his feet as he pointed at her, causing her to flip him off as her smile grew.

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yanxidarlings · 5 months

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ik i should focus on requests but i just have some ideas

what if the reader from the slytherin x dormmate reader series ended up in ravenclaw? (spoiler alert he now has a ravenclaw yandere harem) will address the slytherin side of this conundrum in another post but for now i present

YANDERE HOGWARTS: RAVENCLAW BOYS X DORMMATE READER

"ravenclaw" the entire hall falls dead silent, m/n l/n, from the famous l/n family? the purebloods that have been in slytherin for centuries? a ravenclaw. the young boy had a look of horror on his face as he sat there in shock.

the sorting hat was taken off his head and mcgonagall ushered him towards the ravenclaw table. "no- but" he squeked out as he was sat with the rest of the first year ravenclaws. he felt himself bumping into someone as he sat down, oh my god did i just touch a mudblood, m/n thought, stealing a glance at the person- boy, who was next to him, merlin help me i'm going to hell.

"names michael corner" m/n heard the faint voice of another boy, his handoutstretched as the prefect led the first years up the ravenclaw tower stairs. do i have to do this walk everyday, m/n thought to himself as he stared ahead blankly. "you alright, mate?" the boy walking next to m/n spoke once again, waving his hand in front of m/n's face.

taking it one step further, the boy poked m/n on the cheek, snapping him out of his thoughts - "get your hands off me you filthy-" "quiet down first years, this is the entrance to the common room" m/n was cut off by the prefect, sending a glare the boy - maxwell?, myles? michael?.

• yeah so homeboy reader was not prepared to get sorted into any house but slytherin. i mean ig ravenclaw is better than hufflepuff or god forbid gryffindor but by a small margin.

• dude kinda misses his slythergremlins sure they were annoying but at least they aren't going to suck the magic out of him like the muggleborns in ravenclaw were.

• so reader doesn't really get off on the best foot with his new dormmates, probably says something offensive, and boom, now his dormmates hate him. not to mention his childhood friends who got sorted into slytherin as expected started giving him the cold shoulder.

• okay so they don't hate him but he does feel like the odd one out. yes his first question when he arrived at the dorms was their blood status's and he purposely moved his bed further away from them just so he didn't accidentally catch half blood cooties but it only took him six months to stop scrubbing down the shower before taking one incase one of them carried a virus that would convert him into a blood traitor.

TERRY BOOT (fancast fionn whitehead):

• terry boot is probably the most offended of the three, the other two take the readers behaviour in relative stride but terry get's pretty bothered. is it because he's upset that reader doesn't like him or is it because he's actually offended? the world may never know

• at some point he started going through readers stuff, just to make sure he isn't trying to poison us, but steals little keepsakes like socks, pins and the l/n family signet ring that sent the reader on a rampage for an entire month before he gave up on finding it.

• the winter break after that, reader came back to hogwarts with bruises all across his legs.

"you fell down the stairs? is your coordination that poor or are you getting an early start on the hereditary alcholism in your family" terry scoffed, arms folded, a sceptic expression on his face as he observed the boys bruised limbs.

m/n scoffed "the l/n house has moving stairs you dimwit" he quickly closed the door to the bathroom "you nearly fell down the staircase on the way to potions last term" he added from behind the door. terry frowned, did he see scars on l/n's arm as well? he reached down into his pocket and gripped onto the signet ring he had taken from m/n's bedside table in november.

maybe i should give it back, he thought as he observed the pattern on the ring. as he approached m/n's bed, he began searching for a place to put the ring - on the table? inside the little cauldron? under the bed.

terry kneeled down, moving the sheet's out the way as the shoved it under neath the bunk. you know what, he called me mudblood last year, he can suffer. and with that, boot took the ring and hid it back in his pillowcase.

• terry is a denial kind of yandere, at least in this case, he justifies his actions in his mind and see's nothing wrong with what he does. stealing their stuff? friends share things all the time, stalking them? no he's just going in the same direction, manipulating them? he's sorry if they feel that way but that wasn't his intention.

• his initial dislike of the reader is what fuels his obsession, he simultaneously hates them, wants to be them and wants to be with them. terry thinks he wants the reader to become more accepting of life outside the pureblood bubble he was raised in but once he does and is able to function without the help of his dormmates, terry becomes abominably jealous.

• oh, you ate dinner all on your own without having to wait for terry and anthony to sit next to you and protect you from actual muggleborns? the audacity.

MICHAEL CORNER (fancast owen teague):

• michael is nowhere near as offended as terry, he honestly finds the readers behaviour kind of amusing if not a bit weird. but all purebloods are weird like that, besides it's impossible to hate someone with such a pretty face.

• his darling might be a bigoted blood supremacist but they're his bigoted blood supremacist. he's not as pressed about educating the reader about equality as terry he just figures that eventually the reader will fall madly in love with him and decide that true love is more important than the bloodline and then they'll have 10 babies together and live happily ever after.

• so please don't burst his bubble and act disgusted or blatantly reject his advances. michael really tries to ease his darling into his affection but doesn't really understand that going from sitting next to each other in classes is not one step below sleeping in his bed with him.

"what on merlins beard are you doing" m/n yelled as he swiftly kicked michael in the stomach, flinging the other off his bed. with an oomph, corner placed a hand on his stomach "ow, what is wrong with you" he whined, shifting to lean on his elbows, staring at m/n with a shocked expression "i should be asking what's wrong with you - have you not heard of personal space"

michael clicked his tongue, his eyes rolling "surely we've known each other for long enough to have sleepovers.. you know what a sleepover is right?" "i've never even seen your family tree and you want me to share a bed with you" m/n let out a scoff "you half-bloods are like cavemen merlin help me" he laid back and covered himself with his blanket.

blinking, michael fell silent for a moment "would you like me to get you a copy?" he finally asked, elaborating when the irritated boy muttered what from under the blanket "i'll find my family tree records and give you a copy if you'd like" he replied surely, a smile gracing his face.

m/n pulled the blanket down from covering his face, "well" he started, furrowing his brows, as if deep in thought "i guess so?"

• michael is the only one who openly pursues a romantic relationship with the reader. the darling can never tell the other two's true intentions but god damn is it obvious that michael's goal is to put a ring on it.

• even in fifth year, when he had a few girlfriends, he could. not. leave. reader. alone. literally invited his darling on his dates with ginny and then cho and made several inappropriate propositions and talked about the reader too much on the rare occasions that he was alone with any of his girlfriends which is why they all broke up with him pretty quickly.

• "m/n" "what" "cho broke up with me can you date me instead" "wtf"

ANTHONY GOLDSTEIN (fancast tarjei sandvik moe):

• anthony is intrigued by the reader the moment they sat next to him on the night of the sorting ceremony. any attempts he made at befriending his darling fell on deaf ears. so.. he couldn't help but want to take a look into his mind. and he was a natural born legilimens so it's not like his darling would notice.

• becomes protective of him almost immediately after. his darling is just so fragile and needs someone mature like anthony to make good decisions on his behalf. anthony is quick to cut off his darling from his childhood friends, so that when they got over their shock over the readers sorting, reader would be too attached to his new best friend to want them back.

• he won't let the darling out of his sight, when he studies in the library so will they, they should also take the same classes as him so he can help them with their homework. will mess with their dreams if they try to distance themself from him.

what a poor baby, anthony cooed to himself as he watched m/n from a distance. his cheeks red and tear stained as he bit his index finger, a sob escaped his lips as he wiped his face with his sleeve.

sure, anthony could have stopped riddle, nott and malfoy from shoving m/n around and calling him vile names, but then he would miss out on m/n's endearing sob session that came afterwards.

in the corner of his eye he spotted malfoy on his way back, and swiftly rushed in, hooking his arms with m/n's and dragging the other off with them "wh-" "malfoys on his way back" anthony picked up his pace "were you were watching the whole time?" m/n asked shakily. anthony pulled them both into another corridor, turning to face m/n "yes" he blinked "and you didn't do anything!" the red-faced boy choked out.

anthony smirked "you.. wanted me to come and defend you from malfoy and his goons?" his heart skipped a beat as m/n remained silent, looking defeated "no- i just- uh... i don't- i just" m/n stuttered, face flushing even redder as he stared at the ground.

• anthony infantilises his darling, treating him as a child that can't do anything right. it gets even worse in fifth year when he becomes a prefect: "dumbledore made me a prefect and not you because he knows you can barely tie your own shoelaces"

• goidsteins a lil condescending towards his darling, he exaggerates their mistakes and downplays their achievements. anything to make them dependent on his constant presence. he feels bad sometimes but when they come running to him for everything, it's all worth it ✨

• unlike other groups of yanderes *cough* the slytherins *cough*, these three don't have much of a problem sharing. they're already good friends, and aren't nearly as possesive as some yandere's (le slytherins) not to mention; at first, it's only michael who is openly pursuing the darling romantically.

• terry and anthony don't realise that they like the darling in the same way michael does until like, fifth year. sure there had been cuddling, shared showers and a bit too much emotional intimacy for 'just friends' but what can you expect from a bunch of nerds 😔✋.

• the ravenclaws foster one hell of a dependant relationship with the reader, becoming the only people he isn't nervous around, convincing him everyone else wouldn't be as understanding and his old friends hate him they want him dead so they promise to look after him in return for.. access to the l/n's private library.

• no they expect affection and loyalty back also as soon as they all graduate readers going to move out of his family home and move in with them dormmates for life right?

• no they aren't the worst yandere's not by a milestone but there's just something so suffocating about them.

• the darling will eventually be pressured into a poly relationship with the three. yes they actually ask him if he wants to date them but it's a rhetorical question it's either yes, or no and they start spiking his water with amortentia - then it's also yes.

• as ravenclaws, they realise that violence is not the answer, mind control is. disobedience, rejection, and provoking jealousy will result in the use of the imperius curse or a love potion.

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