can i please see a fat woman wearing it. yes, i know your sizes go all the way up to 5x. but can i please see a fat woman wearing it. yes, i heard you're woman-owned. can i please see a fat woman wearing it though. yes, i understand you donate 50% of proceeds to this charity. i still do not see a fat woman wearing it. can i please see a fat woman wearing it.
“how did we get into this?” literally the whole sequence was amazing if i describe it i will sound like my tv is glowing
shane riding ilya pre tuna melts
shane coming immediately into ilya’s mouth their first hookup
first time when shane does the “holy shit roz-“
all star game right when shane gets in the room all in a tizzy, looks ilya over & swears, then drops the minute ilya tells him to & ilya goes “oh wow” frankly all the way to “no no hollander i want to fuuuck you” ilya’s greed knows no bounds
best kisses
“give me kiss!” “you’re so cold…” i’m obsessed with it
tampa kiss
stairwell kiss
first kiss, from the moment ilya backs shane into the wall & grabs his jaw, immediately putting his fingers in shane’s mouth
after their first time, “now the bed’s all dirty” when ilya is rubbing shane’s thigh and kissing his titty & tells him to shut up & then kisses him
best horny moments they weren’t having sex
shane dropping to his knees to hug ilya’s legs right before they see his parents. that was crazy???
shane subdrop during “we didn’t even kiss”
the chin grab “ask nicely” in the bathroom scene
“more” *immediately drinks more water*
ilya making an actionable threat on shane’s life by being really good with kids and then posing wet right in front of him
summary: after facing embarrassment from Aegon’s intrusive visit, Sylvi helps Aemond find attraction with someone closer to his own age. [aemond x fem!reader] [wc: 5.0k]
warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), hand job, fingering, voyeurism/exhibitionism, aemond’s abuse by her is not tolerated here 🙂↔️, HotD themes.
The sounds of the Silk Streets in the early hours of morning were not for the faint of heart.
You had grown accustomed to them over the years of your residency—the noises, the people, the actions and wants of those who seek the services of an establishment like the one Sylvi ran.
It was not your proudest achievement; not one you’d shout from the rooftops but one that kept the food on the table.
It wasn’t hard. It was sex. And you learned to enjoy it with what little freedom was left when the coins were tossed and your body was aching.
Between your fingers one of those coins twirled absentmindedly as the curtains of your bedding swished at the retreat of your latest payer. There were seldom benefits from the occupation you took up yet the pay, after years of understanding and learning, had grown exponentially.
And the coin that tossed between your fingertips was enough to put food on the table for a few days; enough to buy a dress or to get passage to another town.
It was a reward for service you did not mind.
Sylvi had taught you what you needed to know. How to move, how to pleasure. She helped you determine what felt good and what would feel unpleasant to both you and a partner.
But she had her transgressions far beyond the positive.
One of them stalked the building in a fume.
The laughter that had propagated such anger left an hour ago but the remnants of the jesters stuck heavy in the air. They opened curtains and made spectacles of the givers and the receivers; they stared too long at you in the nude to make you feel at ease.
In the distance, you heard your name called yet you continued to flip the coin.
Aegon, the King as he was now, was no friend to the servants of pleasure. You consider yourself fortunate that he never sought you—as desirable, as insatiable, as you were.
It saved you from a world of hurt from a man as fickle as he was.
Although his reputation preceded him and the ire that still held itself like a cloud over the house was from his head, his brother, Aemond, was a welcome guest.
Though he too was someone you had not laid with either.
He had never lingered far from the woman of the house.
“Y/N.”
Said woman pulled back the curtain of your bed roughly. Against the pillows and covered in a robe the color of a midnight black, you lazily gazed at her.
“Did you not hear me call?” Sylvi asked impatiently. Her irritation was stinging.
“I was busy, Madame,” you responded loosely.
You arched your back and with it came cracks of relaxation. It felt good after being holed up in your bed for two hours.
“You know how Dornish men are,” you informed her. “That one was quite… spirited at this late hour.”
“What happy news for you,” she panned before nodding her head in the direction of her usual hideaway. “I seek a favor.”
“A favor?” You questioned with a mewl.
“It is for the one we do not speak of.”
Sylvi’s eyes gave you a warning. Aemond Targaryen… the one who fumed.
She had never asked for a favor regarding the Prince before and it intrigued you. It would fall a lie if you spoke of never having imagined what a man like him would be like in your bed.
He was a magnificent creature.
Tall and carved from the marble of a great sculptor, Prince Aemond was no stranger to the gazes of the pleasure folk. The way their eyes shined and pupils grew large, you were surely one of them.
It did not hurt that he was no more than the age you were now and had not yet taken a wife.
It was silly, however, to imagine a whore being the wife of a Prince. He had barely sparred you glances when he visited.
Dreams. That is all that it would remain.
“And you seek me?” You questioned, dropping the coin on your clothed stomach.
“I have a proposition for you,” she clarified. “One that will pay you well for your service.”
“The receiver is willing?”
“Yes.”
Her alcove was far nicer than yours.
Lavish with silken pillows and warm candlelight, it was near romantic if you forgot the circumstances of her actions. It smelt of lavender and oils; the kind she wanted throughout the establishment but could only create the corner she wanted here.
It was the first time you had been invited into the space.
Sylvi walked around you as you stood just inside of the curtains. She held the tassel of her robe between her fingertips, swinging it gently.
“We do not speak on what happens here, understood?” She asked you.
“I understand, Madame.” She nodded her head in approval.
“Good,” Sylvi affirmed.
On a ledge behind the bed, she grabbed a small sack of coins and tossed them to you. It landed with a jingle at the edge of the bed.
With delicate hands you grasped the strings and pulled open the bag to see coins worth the entire building. You dropped it, looking at Sylvi with wide eyes.
“T-This… this is far too much,” you scoffed.
“It is what the Prince offered,” she spoke as if the currency was nothing more than what the common folk paid.
There had to have been 10 gold dragons inside of the pouch.
The total jostled you.
You had long understood that the job you took on was ill-inspired. The money you had made was reasonable and never made you feel ashamed to take it.
But this… the currency enough to buy twenty horses; enough to buy a home or sail to Essos with no intention of returning… it did bring shame.
“And for such a currency what does the Prince expect of me? I will not be humiliated—“
“I have no intention of humiliating you.”
The voice cut through glass.
Behind you, with the curtains of Sylvi’s bedding swaying to a gentle close the man of her proposition appeared. You turned around with your mouth agape from the inability to finish your thoughts and as many mortals had before, your mind ceased its thoughts.
He was ethereal, otherworldly.
And he was fully nude.
You stuttered stupidly to greet him.
“P-Prince Aemond,” you managed. “I apologize. I did not intend to speak out of turn.”
He hummed, observing you as you did him. You straightened your back at the sensation. His eye piercing and cold—in a room basked in warmth he was not the bringer of it. Aemond let his mind roam the faults and perfections of your body and needn’t say what it was aloud.
He trusted Sylvi in a twisted way. If she said you were right for the job, surely she would not steer him wrong.
“So,” Aemond’s eye flicked to Sylvi. You took the opportunity to observe the blue gleam of the sapphire that filled the vacancy of his other.
“This is she?”
She introduced your name to him and his eye met yours.
“And the terms have been accepted?”
“They have, My Prince,” you spoke without hesitation.
“Aemond,” he clarified. “You are to call me Aemond.”
You tried his name on your lips and it was breathless. As his eye stalked your body, he took the initiative to take the step forward. The understanding of your willingness emboldened him to bury his brother’s words.
He was seldom humiliated but the reasons he flocked to Sylvi were different from the ones he sought from a willing companion: to release and forget.
Aemond approached you with soft steps and it was suddenly difficult to remember how to breathe. You held your breath, waiting, as his arm extended to you and his fingers brushed the fabric of your robe along your collarbones. He traced the skin with his fingers, along the edges of your robe as the delicate lacing became rough under his fingertips.
He was testing the waters.
You remained focused on his face as your heart rate began to increase. Every thump faster aligned with the draws of his fingers; long and nimble, softer than the men you were used to on days as long as these.
He was fluid and natural. There was no scared boy inside of him, but the hardened man he wanted the world to see.
Sylvi rounded her bed and you were reminded that she was still there as she looked at you.
“Touch her, Aemond. Touch her as you do in your dreams.”
At her command, his hand stilled. You half-thought her demands had sent him into a spiral of regret. Perhaps he would apologize for his lustful responses, scurrying away and back into the pit of dragon’s he came from.
Instead of listening to her in haste, he asked you a question.
“Where are you from?”
You were taken aback but remained stoic. Your job was to put on a performance no matter how surprising his words felt. No patron had ever asked you about, well, you.
You were nothing more than an orifice for their wanton needs.
“Honeyholt,” you responded quietly.
“Not far from Oldtown,” he commented, tracing the lace but never touching your skin. His hand grazed it until he reached the knot of your robe.
You shook your head, “no.”
“Did you enjoy it there?”
“It was far less exciting than King’s Landing.”
“May I?”
You had never had a patron ask permission before either.
You felt like a girl being dotted on. It was a strange feeling, one that had turned so drastically from a mere thirty minutes before—being treated like a doll to be thrown from one to be pampered… it was not what you were expecting.
“You may, Aemond.”
His finite hands worked the knot swiftly to let the robe fall open. When it did, he let it sit there for a moment as he took in the shape of your breasts underneath the fabric, he could see the mound of your pussy, and the way you stood completely still in wait.
He felt powerful when he normally felt meek.
Sylvi had been right. He did need this.
Aemond could feel the woman’s eyes behind him and whether they were on himself or you he would not know, but he felt them heavy.
He took his hands and pushed the fabric from your shoulders. It pooled around your feet in one push.
You breathed in deeply, nipples pebbling at the coolness now meeting you.
It was obvious, however, that your mere body was not enough to rouse him to hardness. If you spent anymore time watching him as he watched you, the sun would be up and his duties would call him away.
“Touch him,” Sylvi instructed you. “Do not be afraid.”
“I am not afraid,” you responded to her but did not look at her. She took a seat on her bed as you moved to stand toe to toe with Aemond.
“May I touch you?” You asked in the same voice of permission he had given you.
“You may,” and he said your name with a weight hearty on his tongue.
With his permission you reached for his right hand and placed it on your breast. His timidness was beginning to show through the hesitancy of his actions. The slow grip on your breast slowly became more comforting the more time he took.
“It’s alright,” you whispered as though Sylvi was not there and you were alone with the Prince. “You can touch me.”
You felt more pressure from his palm. Drawing your own hand to his chest, you began to feel the outlines of his muscles. Aemond was lean and fit, skinny but not sickly.
Each muscle was tense under your touch. He shuttered a breath through his nose and your hand recoiled in the slightest.
“I apologize,” he spoke as lowly as you had before. “I have not been with another in a long time.”
He had not been with another other than Sylvie in a long time, he meant.
“I can be slow, My Prince.”
“Aemond,” he corrected you.
“Aemond,” you said sheepishly in your forgetfulness.
“I do not need you to be slow.”
You nodded in reply and placed your hand back on his chest. You followed it down until you began to broach the zone in which your talents needed to please not only him, but Sylvi also.
If you were a disappointment, there would be no clothes nor food nor horses nor castles in your future.
“Then I will not go slow, Aemond.”
He hummed, intaking a breath as your fingers gently, kindly, fluttered over his cock. You looked up at him with your eyes hooded, eyelashes batting and he thought for an instance that no woman had ever looked at him that way.
Sylvi hadn’t and it awoke something with him.
You began to work him with your hand as he let his hand fall from your breast and brought it up to the back of your neck. He massaged the space briefly before holding onto you with a tighter grip.
In your hand he began to show himself to you. Growing in length, you licked your lips in anticipation and swallowed the bug that formed in your throat.
“Aemond,” you questioned as you stepped closer. You parted your legs to stand between one of his and he stopped you only by moving his other hand to grip your chin.
He could feel his heart beating out of his chest.
The feel of your hand on his cock was enthralling. So smooth and soft, gripping him in hardness at the right moments but never suffocating and never hurting.
“Yes?” He was near breathless.
You took his response with no words but a shifting of your hand. You left his shaft and snaked your hand to his balls, cupping them the best you could. His staggered breath brought a small, sly smile to your lips as he gripped your chin tighter and his eye narrowed.
“Would—“ in his grip, you could barely get words out. He changed his positioning to hold both sides of your neck. “Would you like to see what I can do with my mouth?”
“It would be a waste to not,” he grunted when your hand put pressure on his balls.
He released your neck and watched as you sank to your knees obediently. In your position, he was reminded of the good and pious that prayed to the Seven. Your eyes were so innocent but your mind wicked; your hands were pleasurable and your words soothing.
It was a change and it was working for him.
You sat with your knees apart, feet against your backside and heels digging into the flesh. You ran your hands down your body as he watched you delicately before running your hands up his legs and resting on his upper thighs.
Placing a soft kiss on one of his thighs, you worked yourself toward his member as it beckoned you. You grasped the base of his cock with your hand, placing a sweet kiss on his ever-swollen head.
You let saliva gather at the front of your mouth and let it dribble out and onto his cock before taking him with your mouth.
Aemond was heavy on your tongue. His warmth was sending electricity from your mouth to your core; you felt the throb of want begin to pool at your center. He took both of his hands and placed them at the top of your head but did not push. He did not force and he allowed you to escape when you needed to breathe.
But he was in another world.
Never had he been taken in such a way but his mind liked playing tricks. It was not his first and when he thought back on the times he had been pleasured as such it was not as enjoyable.
Yet, he forgot her stares and focused on you. A woman closer to his own age and one that had a system of morality of questions and seeking answers in regards to pleasure.
You took his extended gratitude and kindness and returned it with your own.
With every pull of your mouth, you filled the space with what your mouth couldn’t take with your hand. You squeezed at his base and it made him see stars. In your vision you could see him watching if you looked up.
How his blue gem gleamed at you…
As you turned your head and used your salvia and some of his pre-cum that began to leak to wet his shaft, you moaned at the sensation. It sent you tingling, drawing a hand away from his thigh; you brought it between your legs and began to rub circles on your clit.
The wetness gathered quickly. You shut your eyes as the two parts of you, mouth and cunt, were being used to your own delight. As you opened them again, Sylvi caught the corner of your eye.
She rubbed herself over her clothes and you halted. Hand retreating from your body in an instant; the salvia that had gathered landed on your thigh with a splat and your hand loosened what held onto him. Aemond let one of his hands fall loosely beside him as he looked up and kept focus on the wall in front of him.
He needed to change. He had asked her for this change for his own sake and it was time for it to happen.
“Sylvi,” Aemond muttered absentmindedly.
“Yes?” She prompted as if he were to ask her to join the two of you. Her tone made you nervous but he never let his other hand fall from your head.
She went to remove her own robe but he stopped her with a turn of his head.
“Leave us,” he commanded.
Slyvi paused her hands against her body, dejected at Aemond while her eyes bounced between the two of you.
You, your hand still on his cock and your lips barely kissing it. Him, with his hand on your head and mind completely taken by you.
“Aem—“
“Do I have to repeat myself?” He asked her calmly. His heart beat so fast at his strength. Never did he believe he’d be able to breakaway.
“No,” she rose from the bed and made for the entrance.
Your breath was hot on his dick when she stopped again. For one moment Sylvi waited for Aemond to call her back but she was met with silence; a heavy weight of agony as she stood there and received no reply.
It was her retreating footsteps that brought relief to your bones.
Aemond’s other hand returned to your head.
“I did not wish for her to watch us,” he informed you.
You looked up at him from your spot on the floor. Along your chin were remnants of spit or spent, he wasn’t certain. All the same, he took a thumb and gathered it from you. He brought the thumb to his mouth and sucked the gathering from it.
“I did not either.”
“Good,” he hummed. “Now get on the bed.”
You needn’t be asked twice.
Aemond refrained from touching you as you rose from the floor and sat on the bed. Once you were seated, he leaned down to grab your ankle and pushed back on your shoulder to lay down. The message was received quickly and you laid back and brought your other leg bent beside you.
You were completely at his mercy. Your walls clenched around nothing when he ran his hands over the skin of your legs. You extended your arms above your head; feeling the soft silk pillows and coolness of the sheets below your body. The sensations were overwhelming.
“I’ve never been with a woman like you before,” Aemond’s hands roamed further, pulling you down on the bed to meet his body but not entering you.
“And what kind of woman am I?” You sighed contently.
“A kind woman.”
“How do you know me to be kind?” You asked him.
One of his hands feathered the skin between your leg and lips. They grazed it again and this time, running his fingers through where you wanted him most. A selfless breath left your lips.
“Your eyes are kind,” he bent down to lay a kiss on your knee. “There are not many kind eyes here.”
He stuck one finger in, followed by another. Your hand reached for the pillows quickly, back arching at the sensation. You once thought his fingers to be long and nimble but they were much more. You felt them so clearly and cleanly.
They reached within your walls; touching the plushy skin as it grew in wetness and emitted slick sounds of pleasure.
Once he felt you were ready, he wanted to test his third finger.
“Gods,” you stuttered out as his third finger slipped in and it became so quick. He was running away with himself as the sight of your pleasure overtakes him.
“F-fuck.”
The words continued to fall from your lips as he picked up his pace. His fingers moved in and out, in and out, and then a rapid succession of moving them up and down. Your body trembled at the noises. The wet, squelching sound of a mess too far gone.
He may not have been as experienced as other men, but he had ruined you for all in the future.
“That’s it,” he whispered against your thigh again. He bent down to watch you writhe at his actions. “What do you need from me? Hm?” He asked.
“Nothing,” you panted. “Just you Aemond.”
“Just me?” He murmured. “What of my cock? Do you want to feel me inside of you? Finish inside of you?”
The idea sent you spiraling. You imagined how his cock would feel longer and thicker than his fingers. How it would plead against the spot to make you come undone.
“Yes,” you nodded. “I want to know what it feels like.”
He removed his fingers to grasp his length in his hands. Aemond pumped himself briefly before lining his head up with your entrance, gripping your hip as you stayed splayed before him.
And then he slid in.
Seldom could explain the moment but you had seen stars. You saw the galaxies spoken of by the Maester’s and worlds beyond your own. There was no feeling but him filling you so fully and totally.
He shut his eye. The blue sapphire still glittering in the light; Aemond saw peace grow with a gasp. Everything in his mind went blank with white noise. All he could hear was himself as he sheathed himself inside of your warmth with a simple push. He filled you until he could no longer.
It was sinful to feel so good.
He held himself there for a minute. You wanted to sit up, hold his body close to yours and feel his muscles contract under your touch but stay as pliant as possible.
Against your convictions, Aemond leaned forward and cupped your cheek with his hands. It was entirely intimate for a man you had just met.
But his touch lingered lifetimes. It was as if you knew him forever, and this singular moment was one of plenty.
Stilled inside of you, his thumb caressed your bottom lip.
“May I kiss you?” He asked promptly.
You moved your hips in a roll to urge him to move, wrapping your legs around his torso and arms around his shoulders. His lips brushed against yours.
He pulled his hips back and slowly slid himself back in.
You nodded your head the best you could against the sheets and he ticked at you. His nose nudged yours, your lips begging to be touched but he neglected them.
“No,” he cooed. “I need you to say it. Say you want me to kiss you.” Again, he slid out, back in and your hips met him there.
“Kiss me, Aemond. Kiss me, please.”
Pushing his cock deeper into you, your mouth fell agape and he used the opportunity to capture his lips with your own, swallowing your moan and losing himself in your intimacy.
He never thought a woman like you could make him feel so selfless.
Aemond knew nothing of you but felt everything. He needn’t understand the pieces of you to feel the rewards of lust and anger spilling out of him.
His mouth is so warm and wet. Aemond’s tongue danced with yours as your whimpers became gasps with the jacking of his hips into you. Your hands are bruising on his shoulders; grip tight and breaking had you been a stronger woman.
Aemond broke his kisses and moved his hand to your neck. His thumb put pressure on the bottom of your chin, pushing your head backwards and sending your spine arching.
If he took you any further, you’d split yourself in too. You mewled in pleasure and he let out a low chuckle, eyes low and observing as he pounded his cock in your pussy faster.
“Oh,” one of your arms shot up above your head and he took his other hand, the one not on your neck, and intertwined your hands together.
“Do the others fuck you like this?” He hummed.
“No,” you called into the air. “Not everyone is as good as you, My Prince.”
As your eyes met his, you felt your heart exploding. No one would ever hold you like this again. No one would know you in the secrets you shared here—so open and viewable yet shroud in the comfort of veils.
You like this. He knows you do. And fuck, he does too.
“You like being held like a worthy lady,” Aemond purred. “Like you’re not a whore.”
“You like being strong when they underestimate you.”
His hand around your throat tightened but didn’t suffocate you. Aemond’s fingers that intertwined with your own stayed together as he changed his speed. Slowing down and drawing his dick out to the tip and stuffing you again, he snickered.
“You are not weak.”
“No,” he narrowed his eye. “I’m not.”
“In here,” you groaned. “In here you can be anyone, Aemond.”
He knew it to be true.
Instead of responding with a smart retort or a scathing comment that would rival one of his brothers, he nodded his head and let it fall in the crook of your neck.
Within you, his solemn romanticism built a fire. It was aching; clenching your walls around him as your breaths became more heated and laced with a finish. His skin on yours glistened with sweat the more strenuous your meetings became.
You were holding onto a thin string when he lifted his head again and planted a kiss on your lips.
So personal, so intimate from what you were used to.
“I-“ you barely got a syllable out before your body shook with your orgasm hitting you like a brick through a glass window. Aemond removed his hand on your neck to grip your back as your body lifted from the sheets.
Your cunt had his cock in a vice. So tight and smooth with your wetness, he felt the stuttering sensation of his own building in a quick anticipation and as the shaking in your legs began to lessen, he pulled out of your pussy without warning and pumped himself before spilling his spent on your stomach.
Your eyes saw stars on the ceiling of the brothel. Aemond kissed between your breath as his fingers swiped through his cum. He drew a line from your stomach, between your breasts, and to your lips. You took his fingers covered in him into your mouth and licked him clean.
Once there was nothing left, his wet fingers palmed your breast with a sigh. You untangled your combined fingers and gingerly outlined the bottom of his scar.
He leaned into your touch absentmindedly before eagerly kissing you again.
Aemond would never confess why he did it.
It was an urge he had never felt; built in the emotions of his mind as he was wrapped in your kind embrace and away from the world that had created the cruelness that lived with him. You were not cruel. You were good and a sanctimonious creature at his alter of wavering faith.
You revived him.
And he barely knew you.
When he pulled away, you brushed a hand over his disheveled hair and smiled.
The feeling within him was foreign but it was hungry. He hungered for the bubbled nature of want that brewed in his bones. Aemond sought the feel of your hands on him and the way you settled in his motions without complaint or verbally assuring him what he was doing was “good for him,” when in reality, he knew it was not.
So in turn, when you smiled, so did he.
A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you.
summary: after facing embarrassment from Aegon’s intrusive visit, Sylvi helps Aemond find attraction with someone closer to his own age. [aemond x fem!reader] [wc: 5.0k]
warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), hand job, fingering, voyeurism/exhibitionism, aemond’s abuse by her is not tolerated here 🙂↔️, HotD themes.
The sounds of the Silk Streets in the early hours of morning were not for the faint of heart.
You had grown accustomed to them over the years of your residency—the noises, the people, the actions and wants of those who seek the services of an establishment like the one Sylvi ran.
It was not your proudest achievement; not one you’d shout from the rooftops but one that kept the food on the table.
It wasn’t hard. It was sex. And you learned to enjoy it with what little freedom was left when the coins were tossed and your body was aching.
Between your fingers one of those coins twirled absentmindedly as the curtains of your bedding swished at the retreat of your latest payer. There were seldom benefits from the occupation you took up yet the pay, after years of understanding and learning, had grown exponentially.
And the coin that tossed between your fingertips was enough to put food on the table for a few days; enough to buy a dress or to get passage to another town.
It was a reward for service you did not mind.
Sylvi had taught you what you needed to know. How to move, how to pleasure. She helped you determine what felt good and what would feel unpleasant to both you and a partner.
But she had her transgressions far beyond the positive.
One of them stalked the building in a fume.
The laughter that had propagated such anger left an hour ago but the remnants of the jesters stuck heavy in the air. They opened curtains and made spectacles of the givers and the receivers; they stared too long at you in the nude to make you feel at ease.
In the distance, you heard your name called yet you continued to flip the coin.
Aegon, the King as he was now, was no friend to the servants of pleasure. You consider yourself fortunate that he never sought you—as desirable, as insatiable, as you were.
It saved you from a world of hurt from a man as fickle as he was.
Although his reputation preceded him and the ire that still held itself like a cloud over the house was from his head, his brother, Aemond, was a welcome guest.
Though he too was someone you had not laid with either.
He had never lingered far from the woman of the house.
“Y/N.”
Said woman pulled back the curtain of your bed roughly. Against the pillows and covered in a robe the color of a midnight black, you lazily gazed at her.
“Did you not hear me call?” Sylvi asked impatiently. Her irritation was stinging.
“I was busy, Madame,” you responded loosely.
You arched your back and with it came cracks of relaxation. It felt good after being holed up in your bed for two hours.
“You know how Dornish men are,” you informed her. “That one was quite… spirited at this late hour.”
“What happy news for you,” she panned before nodding her head in the direction of her usual hideaway. “I seek a favor.”
“A favor?” You questioned with a mewl.
“It is for the one we do not speak of.”
Sylvi’s eyes gave you a warning. Aemond Targaryen… the one who fumed.
She had never asked for a favor regarding the Prince before and it intrigued you. It would fall a lie if you spoke of never having imagined what a man like him would be like in your bed.
He was a magnificent creature.
Tall and carved from the marble of a great sculptor, Prince Aemond was no stranger to the gazes of the pleasure folk. The way their eyes shined and pupils grew large, you were surely one of them.
It did not hurt that he was no more than the age you were now and had not yet taken a wife.
It was silly, however, to imagine a whore being the wife of a Prince. He had barely sparred you glances when he visited.
Dreams. That is all that it would remain.
“And you seek me?” You questioned, dropping the coin on your clothed stomach.
“I have a proposition for you,” she clarified. “One that will pay you well for your service.”
“The receiver is willing?”
“Yes.”
Her alcove was far nicer than yours.
Lavish with silken pillows and warm candlelight, it was near romantic if you forgot the circumstances of her actions. It smelt of lavender and oils; the kind she wanted throughout the establishment but could only create the corner she wanted here.
It was the first time you had been invited into the space.
Sylvi walked around you as you stood just inside of the curtains. She held the tassel of her robe between her fingertips, swinging it gently.
“We do not speak on what happens here, understood?” She asked you.
“I understand, Madame.” She nodded her head in approval.
“Good,” Sylvi affirmed.
On a ledge behind the bed, she grabbed a small sack of coins and tossed them to you. It landed with a jingle at the edge of the bed.
With delicate hands you grasped the strings and pulled open the bag to see coins worth the entire building. You dropped it, looking at Sylvi with wide eyes.
“T-This… this is far too much,” you scoffed.
“It is what the Prince offered,” she spoke as if the currency was nothing more than what the common folk paid.
There had to have been 10 gold dragons inside of the pouch.
The total jostled you.
You had long understood that the job you took on was ill-inspired. The money you had made was reasonable and never made you feel ashamed to take it.
But this… the currency enough to buy twenty horses; enough to buy a home or sail to Essos with no intention of returning… it did bring shame.
“And for such a currency what does the Prince expect of me? I will not be humiliated—“
“I have no intention of humiliating you.”
The voice cut through glass.
Behind you, with the curtains of Sylvi’s bedding swaying to a gentle close the man of her proposition appeared. You turned around with your mouth agape from the inability to finish your thoughts and as many mortals had before, your mind ceased its thoughts.
He was ethereal, otherworldly.
And he was fully nude.
You stuttered stupidly to greet him.
“P-Prince Aemond,” you managed. “I apologize. I did not intend to speak out of turn.”
He hummed, observing you as you did him. You straightened your back at the sensation. His eye piercing and cold—in a room basked in warmth he was not the bringer of it. Aemond let his mind roam the faults and perfections of your body and needn’t say what it was aloud.
He trusted Sylvi in a twisted way. If she said you were right for the job, surely she would not steer him wrong.
“So,” Aemond’s eye flicked to Sylvi. You took the opportunity to observe the blue gleam of the sapphire that filled the vacancy of his other.
“This is she?”
She introduced your name to him and his eye met yours.
“And the terms have been accepted?”
“They have, My Prince,” you spoke without hesitation.
“Aemond,” he clarified. “You are to call me Aemond.”
You tried his name on your lips and it was breathless. As his eye stalked your body, he took the initiative to take the step forward. The understanding of your willingness emboldened him to bury his brother’s words.
He was seldom humiliated but the reasons he flocked to Sylvi were different from the ones he sought from a willing companion: to release and forget.
Aemond approached you with soft steps and it was suddenly difficult to remember how to breathe. You held your breath, waiting, as his arm extended to you and his fingers brushed the fabric of your robe along your collarbones. He traced the skin with his fingers, along the edges of your robe as the delicate lacing became rough under his fingertips.
He was testing the waters.
You remained focused on his face as your heart rate began to increase. Every thump faster aligned with the draws of his fingers; long and nimble, softer than the men you were used to on days as long as these.
He was fluid and natural. There was no scared boy inside of him, but the hardened man he wanted the world to see.
Sylvi rounded her bed and you were reminded that she was still there as she looked at you.
“Touch her, Aemond. Touch her as you do in your dreams.”
At her command, his hand stilled. You half-thought her demands had sent him into a spiral of regret. Perhaps he would apologize for his lustful responses, scurrying away and back into the pit of dragon’s he came from.
Instead of listening to her in haste, he asked you a question.
“Where are you from?”
You were taken aback but remained stoic. Your job was to put on a performance no matter how surprising his words felt. No patron had ever asked you about, well, you.
You were nothing more than an orifice for their wanton needs.
“Honeyholt,” you responded quietly.
“Not far from Oldtown,” he commented, tracing the lace but never touching your skin. His hand grazed it until he reached the knot of your robe.
You shook your head, “no.”
“Did you enjoy it there?”
“It was far less exciting than King’s Landing.”
“May I?”
You had never had a patron ask permission before either.
You felt like a girl being dotted on. It was a strange feeling, one that had turned so drastically from a mere thirty minutes before—being treated like a doll to be thrown from one to be pampered… it was not what you were expecting.
“You may, Aemond.”
His finite hands worked the knot swiftly to let the robe fall open. When it did, he let it sit there for a moment as he took in the shape of your breasts underneath the fabric, he could see the mound of your pussy, and the way you stood completely still in wait.
He felt powerful when he normally felt meek.
Sylvi had been right. He did need this.
Aemond could feel the woman’s eyes behind him and whether they were on himself or you he would not know, but he felt them heavy.
He took his hands and pushed the fabric from your shoulders. It pooled around your feet in one push.
You breathed in deeply, nipples pebbling at the coolness now meeting you.
It was obvious, however, that your mere body was not enough to rouse him to hardness. If you spent anymore time watching him as he watched you, the sun would be up and his duties would call him away.
“Touch him,” Sylvi instructed you. “Do not be afraid.”
“I am not afraid,” you responded to her but did not look at her. She took a seat on her bed as you moved to stand toe to toe with Aemond.
“May I touch you?” You asked in the same voice of permission he had given you.
“You may,” and he said your name with a weight hearty on his tongue.
With his permission you reached for his right hand and placed it on your breast. His timidness was beginning to show through the hesitancy of his actions. The slow grip on your breast slowly became more comforting the more time he took.
“It’s alright,” you whispered as though Sylvi was not there and you were alone with the Prince. “You can touch me.”
You felt more pressure from his palm. Drawing your own hand to his chest, you began to feel the outlines of his muscles. Aemond was lean and fit, skinny but not sickly.
Each muscle was tense under your touch. He shuttered a breath through his nose and your hand recoiled in the slightest.
“I apologize,” he spoke as lowly as you had before. “I have not been with another in a long time.”
He had not been with another other than Sylvie in a long time, he meant.
“I can be slow, My Prince.”
“Aemond,” he corrected you.
“Aemond,” you said sheepishly in your forgetfulness.
“I do not need you to be slow.”
You nodded in reply and placed your hand back on his chest. You followed it down until you began to broach the zone in which your talents needed to please not only him, but Sylvi also.
If you were a disappointment, there would be no clothes nor food nor horses nor castles in your future.
“Then I will not go slow, Aemond.”
He hummed, intaking a breath as your fingers gently, kindly, fluttered over his cock. You looked up at him with your eyes hooded, eyelashes batting and he thought for an instance that no woman had ever looked at him that way.
Sylvi hadn’t and it awoke something with him.
You began to work him with your hand as he let his hand fall from your breast and brought it up to the back of your neck. He massaged the space briefly before holding onto you with a tighter grip.
In your hand he began to show himself to you. Growing in length, you licked your lips in anticipation and swallowed the bug that formed in your throat.
“Aemond,” you questioned as you stepped closer. You parted your legs to stand between one of his and he stopped you only by moving his other hand to grip your chin.
He could feel his heart beating out of his chest.
The feel of your hand on his cock was enthralling. So smooth and soft, gripping him in hardness at the right moments but never suffocating and never hurting.
“Yes?” He was near breathless.
You took his response with no words but a shifting of your hand. You left his shaft and snaked your hand to his balls, cupping them the best you could. His staggered breath brought a small, sly smile to your lips as he gripped your chin tighter and his eye narrowed.
“Would—“ in his grip, you could barely get words out. He changed his positioning to hold both sides of your neck. “Would you like to see what I can do with my mouth?”
“It would be a waste to not,” he grunted when your hand put pressure on his balls.
He released your neck and watched as you sank to your knees obediently. In your position, he was reminded of the good and pious that prayed to the Seven. Your eyes were so innocent but your mind wicked; your hands were pleasurable and your words soothing.
It was a change and it was working for him.
You sat with your knees apart, feet against your backside and heels digging into the flesh. You ran your hands down your body as he watched you delicately before running your hands up his legs and resting on his upper thighs.
Placing a soft kiss on one of his thighs, you worked yourself toward his member as it beckoned you. You grasped the base of his cock with your hand, placing a sweet kiss on his ever-swollen head.
You let saliva gather at the front of your mouth and let it dribble out and onto his cock before taking him with your mouth.
Aemond was heavy on your tongue. His warmth was sending electricity from your mouth to your core; you felt the throb of want begin to pool at your center. He took both of his hands and placed them at the top of your head but did not push. He did not force and he allowed you to escape when you needed to breathe.
But he was in another world.
Never had he been taken in such a way but his mind liked playing tricks. It was not his first and when he thought back on the times he had been pleasured as such it was not as enjoyable.
Yet, he forgot her stares and focused on you. A woman closer to his own age and one that had a system of morality of questions and seeking answers in regards to pleasure.
You took his extended gratitude and kindness and returned it with your own.
With every pull of your mouth, you filled the space with what your mouth couldn’t take with your hand. You squeezed at his base and it made him see stars. In your vision you could see him watching if you looked up.
How his blue gem gleamed at you…
As you turned your head and used your salvia and some of his pre-cum that began to leak to wet his shaft, you moaned at the sensation. It sent you tingling, drawing a hand away from his thigh; you brought it between your legs and began to rub circles on your clit.
The wetness gathered quickly. You shut your eyes as the two parts of you, mouth and cunt, were being used to your own delight. As you opened them again, Sylvi caught the corner of your eye.
She rubbed herself over her clothes and you halted. Hand retreating from your body in an instant; the salvia that had gathered landed on your thigh with a splat and your hand loosened what held onto him. Aemond let one of his hands fall loosely beside him as he looked up and kept focus on the wall in front of him.
He needed to change. He had asked her for this change for his own sake and it was time for it to happen.
“Sylvi,” Aemond muttered absentmindedly.
“Yes?” She prompted as if he were to ask her to join the two of you. Her tone made you nervous but he never let his other hand fall from your head.
She went to remove her own robe but he stopped her with a turn of his head.
“Leave us,” he commanded.
Slyvi paused her hands against her body, dejected at Aemond while her eyes bounced between the two of you.
You, your hand still on his cock and your lips barely kissing it. Him, with his hand on your head and mind completely taken by you.
“Aem—“
“Do I have to repeat myself?” He asked her calmly. His heart beat so fast at his strength. Never did he believe he’d be able to breakaway.
“No,” she rose from the bed and made for the entrance.
Your breath was hot on his dick when she stopped again. For one moment Sylvi waited for Aemond to call her back but she was met with silence; a heavy weight of agony as she stood there and received no reply.
It was her retreating footsteps that brought relief to your bones.
Aemond’s other hand returned to your head.
“I did not wish for her to watch us,” he informed you.
You looked up at him from your spot on the floor. Along your chin were remnants of spit or spent, he wasn’t certain. All the same, he took a thumb and gathered it from you. He brought the thumb to his mouth and sucked the gathering from it.
“I did not either.”
“Good,” he hummed. “Now get on the bed.”
You needn’t be asked twice.
Aemond refrained from touching you as you rose from the floor and sat on the bed. Once you were seated, he leaned down to grab your ankle and pushed back on your shoulder to lay down. The message was received quickly and you laid back and brought your other leg bent beside you.
You were completely at his mercy. Your walls clenched around nothing when he ran his hands over the skin of your legs. You extended your arms above your head; feeling the soft silk pillows and coolness of the sheets below your body. The sensations were overwhelming.
“I’ve never been with a woman like you before,” Aemond’s hands roamed further, pulling you down on the bed to meet his body but not entering you.
“And what kind of woman am I?” You sighed contently.
“A kind woman.”
“How do you know me to be kind?” You asked him.
One of his hands feathered the skin between your leg and lips. They grazed it again and this time, running his fingers through where you wanted him most. A selfless breath left your lips.
“Your eyes are kind,” he bent down to lay a kiss on your knee. “There are not many kind eyes here.”
He stuck one finger in, followed by another. Your hand reached for the pillows quickly, back arching at the sensation. You once thought his fingers to be long and nimble but they were much more. You felt them so clearly and cleanly.
They reached within your walls; touching the plushy skin as it grew in wetness and emitted slick sounds of pleasure.
Once he felt you were ready, he wanted to test his third finger.
“Gods,” you stuttered out as his third finger slipped in and it became so quick. He was running away with himself as the sight of your pleasure overtakes him.
“F-fuck.”
The words continued to fall from your lips as he picked up his pace. His fingers moved in and out, in and out, and then a rapid succession of moving them up and down. Your body trembled at the noises. The wet, squelching sound of a mess too far gone.
He may not have been as experienced as other men, but he had ruined you for all in the future.
“That’s it,” he whispered against your thigh again. He bent down to watch you writhe at his actions. “What do you need from me? Hm?” He asked.
“Nothing,” you panted. “Just you Aemond.”
“Just me?” He murmured. “What of my cock? Do you want to feel me inside of you? Finish inside of you?”
The idea sent you spiraling. You imagined how his cock would feel longer and thicker than his fingers. How it would plead against the spot to make you come undone.
“Yes,” you nodded. “I want to know what it feels like.”
He removed his fingers to grasp his length in his hands. Aemond pumped himself briefly before lining his head up with your entrance, gripping your hip as you stayed splayed before him.
And then he slid in.
Seldom could explain the moment but you had seen stars. You saw the galaxies spoken of by the Maester’s and worlds beyond your own. There was no feeling but him filling you so fully and totally.
He shut his eye. The blue sapphire still glittering in the light; Aemond saw peace grow with a gasp. Everything in his mind went blank with white noise. All he could hear was himself as he sheathed himself inside of your warmth with a simple push. He filled you until he could no longer.
It was sinful to feel so good.
He held himself there for a minute. You wanted to sit up, hold his body close to yours and feel his muscles contract under your touch but stay as pliant as possible.
Against your convictions, Aemond leaned forward and cupped your cheek with his hands. It was entirely intimate for a man you had just met.
But his touch lingered lifetimes. It was as if you knew him forever, and this singular moment was one of plenty.
Stilled inside of you, his thumb caressed your bottom lip.
“May I kiss you?” He asked promptly.
You moved your hips in a roll to urge him to move, wrapping your legs around his torso and arms around his shoulders. His lips brushed against yours.
He pulled his hips back and slowly slid himself back in.
You nodded your head the best you could against the sheets and he ticked at you. His nose nudged yours, your lips begging to be touched but he neglected them.
“No,” he cooed. “I need you to say it. Say you want me to kiss you.” Again, he slid out, back in and your hips met him there.
“Kiss me, Aemond. Kiss me, please.”
Pushing his cock deeper into you, your mouth fell agape and he used the opportunity to capture his lips with your own, swallowing your moan and losing himself in your intimacy.
He never thought a woman like you could make him feel so selfless.
Aemond knew nothing of you but felt everything. He needn’t understand the pieces of you to feel the rewards of lust and anger spilling out of him.
His mouth is so warm and wet. Aemond’s tongue danced with yours as your whimpers became gasps with the jacking of his hips into you. Your hands are bruising on his shoulders; grip tight and breaking had you been a stronger woman.
Aemond broke his kisses and moved his hand to your neck. His thumb put pressure on the bottom of your chin, pushing your head backwards and sending your spine arching.
If he took you any further, you’d split yourself in too. You mewled in pleasure and he let out a low chuckle, eyes low and observing as he pounded his cock in your pussy faster.
“Oh,” one of your arms shot up above your head and he took his other hand, the one not on your neck, and intertwined your hands together.
“Do the others fuck you like this?” He hummed.
“No,” you called into the air. “Not everyone is as good as you, My Prince.”
As your eyes met his, you felt your heart exploding. No one would ever hold you like this again. No one would know you in the secrets you shared here—so open and viewable yet shroud in the comfort of veils.
You like this. He knows you do. And fuck, he does too.
“You like being held like a worthy lady,” Aemond purred. “Like you’re not a whore.”
“You like being strong when they underestimate you.”
His hand around your throat tightened but didn’t suffocate you. Aemond’s fingers that intertwined with your own stayed together as he changed his speed. Slowing down and drawing his dick out to the tip and stuffing you again, he snickered.
“You are not weak.”
“No,” he narrowed his eye. “I’m not.”
“In here,” you groaned. “In here you can be anyone, Aemond.”
He knew it to be true.
Instead of responding with a smart retort or a scathing comment that would rival one of his brothers, he nodded his head and let it fall in the crook of your neck.
Within you, his solemn romanticism built a fire. It was aching; clenching your walls around him as your breaths became more heated and laced with a finish. His skin on yours glistened with sweat the more strenuous your meetings became.
You were holding onto a thin string when he lifted his head again and planted a kiss on your lips.
So personal, so intimate from what you were used to.
“I-“ you barely got a syllable out before your body shook with your orgasm hitting you like a brick through a glass window. Aemond removed his hand on your neck to grip your back as your body lifted from the sheets.
Your cunt had his cock in a vice. So tight and smooth with your wetness, he felt the stuttering sensation of his own building in a quick anticipation and as the shaking in your legs began to lessen, he pulled out of your pussy without warning and pumped himself before spilling his spent on your stomach.
Your eyes saw stars on the ceiling of the brothel. Aemond kissed between your breath as his fingers swiped through his cum. He drew a line from your stomach, between your breasts, and to your lips. You took his fingers covered in him into your mouth and licked him clean.
Once there was nothing left, his wet fingers palmed your breast with a sigh. You untangled your combined fingers and gingerly outlined the bottom of his scar.
He leaned into your touch absentmindedly before eagerly kissing you again.
Aemond would never confess why he did it.
It was an urge he had never felt; built in the emotions of his mind as he was wrapped in your kind embrace and away from the world that had created the cruelness that lived with him. You were not cruel. You were good and a sanctimonious creature at his alter of wavering faith.
You revived him.
And he barely knew you.
When he pulled away, you brushed a hand over his disheveled hair and smiled.
The feeling within him was foreign but it was hungry. He hungered for the bubbled nature of want that brewed in his bones. Aemond sought the feel of your hands on him and the way you settled in his motions without complaint or verbally assuring him what he was doing was “good for him,” when in reality, he knew it was not.
So in turn, when you smiled, so did he.
A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you.
rape. high risk pregnancy. sepsis. severe bleeding. birth control failure. endometriosis. These are all things that can and DO happen in the world of childbirth. They aren’t planned. They aren’t predictable. BUT THEY HAPPEN. A 13 year old girl, who just got her period for the first time, is walking home from school. She gets attacked and raped. She finds out she’s pregnant. Now this little girl. THIS CHILD. THIS BABY has to raise a baby because society doesn’t give a FUCK ABOUT HER LIFE. Society only gives a fuck about procreation. and it’s disgusting. The CHILD rapist is probably gonna get a few years bc the justice system is fucked while this BABY has to raise a BABY that she is barely a decade older than. There are so many reasons why abortion should be and IS an option and for people to want to take it away because they feel bad for a clump of cells that doesn’t know that it’s a clump of cells is FUCKING REPULSIVE AND SELFISH.
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
Rich to me is always the friends to lovers (everybody sees it but you two) it’s him yelling “behind” at everyone but sliding behind you with a hand on your hip “behind sweetheart” it’s you walking into the group of boys smoking outside & u bypass everyone to grab a smoke straight from his lips “thanks babe” it’s family having no empty chairs at the table so you sit on his lap while Syd & carm just stare. I think you’d bring my wish to life beautifully written. I need all the build up to the smut
can i just say that richie is definitely the type to be a jagoff to everyone, but never to you - everyone else knew how to work his last nerve, but you and your cutesy smile and bright eyes would make him all warm and fuzzy for sure
explicit sexual content ahead
it was no secret to anyone who worked at the restaurant (or had eyes) that you and richie had a ‘special’ kind of relationship. for starters, it wasn’t common for a hotheaded man, like richie jerimovich, to be so touchy and lovey-dovey with anyone. i mean, not even his ex-wife got to see that side of him often, and they shared a child. however there was something about you that just made richie feel as though he needed to be around you, protect you, handle you tenderly.
maybe it was because you were younger than him - fuck if he knew, all richie knew in his heart of hearts was that he had it bad for you.
things between you two started off gradually, “gotta get past you, sweetheart,” the older man rasped, the warm and calloused palm of his hand gently cradling the small of your lower back as he made his way past you, his tall frame easily reaching over you to grab ahold of a pot from the top cabinet.
you’d simply nod wordlessly, keeping your eyes trained forward in an effort to conceal the blush that rose to your cheeks.
after weeks of comfortability that increased between the two of you, you decided you’d test the waters. you’d watched carefully as he made his way out of the back door that led behind the building of the beef. quickly scanning over the not-so-busy environment of the restaurant, you walked away from the cash register, towards the back exit of the beef.
“i’ll be back in ten!” you called out, earning a mumble of approval from carmy and sydney who were entirely too engrossed in a conversation about expanding the menu.
the moment you’d exited the restaurant, the unforgiving cold winter chicago air bit at you, causing you to hiss as you quickly folded your arms tightly over your chest, your fitted ‘the beef’ t-shirt lifting a bit as you turned to find richie leaned against the brick wall.
he was so rugged and laid back, it drove you insane. his hoodie remained open, revealing the matching t-shirt that clung to his slim abdomen, one of his hands shoved in the pocket of his adidas track pants, while the other held a cigarette to his lips. richie didn’t notice your presence yet, too involved in a conversation with sweeps and marcus.
you’d decided it would be the perfect time to push the envelope, walking directly past marcus and sweeps as you approached richie, a flutter now swirling in your stomach as he raised his eyebrows at you, cigarette loosely held between his sharp teeth.
you two held eye contact for a beat, before you gently grabbed the cigarette from his mouth, before raising it to sit sit between the swell of your lips, taking a quick pull from the cigarette, “thanks babe,” you exhaled with a sweet close-mouthed smile.
all richie could do was swallow thickly, nodding to himself before he returned his attention back to the conversation at hand, softly swatting the side of your thigh when he decided that it was time for you to return the cigarette.
it was then, that things started to reach a whole new level of touchiness and couple-like actions between you and richie.
today was family. your second-most favorite day of the week, aside from payday. you were a bit late to the function, courtesy of your hair appointment, walking into the main room of the restaurant, instantly being greeted with a chorus of differing ‘hello’s’.
“hi, m’sorry for being late, my hair girl was late!” you rushed to explain, shrugging off richie’s your zip-up hoodie as you glanced around the room, seeing that all seats were occupied, “oh.”
sydney’s eyes widened as she shared the same realization, “fuck, uh, maybe we can get you an extra seat from the office, i-” she began, taking a bit too long, leaving richie no choice, but to come up with a solution of his own.
“s’nothing syd, she can sit with me,” richie spoke with a careless shrug, his mouth full of pasta as he looked up at you, swallowing his food before continuing, “c’mon, sweetheart.”
you obliged, your lips suddenly running dry as you walked towards richie’s seat, softly grabbing his outstretched hand as he gently guided your hips to sit comfortably against his.
you slightly shifted your hips, sending a shock to your clit as his bulge deliciously sat flush against your ass, “thanks, richie,” you muttered, focusing your gaze on the pasta dish that sat before you.
richie leaned back into his seat, the suddenly awkward silence of the dining room now becoming a bit too apparent to him. shaking his head, richie kept one of his arms loosely hung around you, before clearing his throat.
“yo, i don’t know why the fuck everyone is being fuckin’ quiet,” he huffed, his eyes now landing on carmy and sydney, before he sighed, “cousin, just say what the fuck you’re grateful for already!”
it wasn’t long before everyone returned to their normal conversations, about twenty minutes passing, before richie decided to lean in close to you, bringing his lips to your ear.
“m’ready to get the fuck outta here.”
and that’s how you ended up in the driver’s seat of richie’s car, his seat fully reclined back, one hand gripping the back of your neck, while the other guided your hips to bounce hard against his.
“ah, fuck - y’gonna make me cum in you if you keep fuckin’ me like that, sweetheart,” richie groaned, moving the hand that guided your hips to your back, pushing you further into his chest as he fucked up into you.
your face was in his neck, throaty moans and gasps leaving your lips as you sloppily kissed and sucked at the skin of his neck, the sound of your hips slapping into each other mixed with the squelch and slurp of your wet pussy taking his length leaving you a needy mess.
you were so close to reaching your peak, your pulsing hole clenching around richie’s dick as his thrust remained forceful and rough, “i can fuckin’ feel you around me, baby, y’want me to make you cum, yeah,” he chuckled, leaning his head against the headrest as he brought his hand to your hip, grinding your hips flush against his in circular motions.
“fuck, richie,” was all you could mewl through your gritted teeth, your stomach tight as your clit rubbed against the wet skin of his pelvis.
“keep ridin’ me, sweetheart,” he whispered, pecking your flexed temple as he forced your hips deeps against his, “just keep fuckin’ ridin’ me.”
yeah, your relationship with your coworker was far from orthodox, but neither of you seemed to get enough of it. nor, did you want to.
Ayo Edebiri is special to me because bluntly speaking, every time a young actress of colour blows up in Western media spotlight it's usually a light skinned woman or a biracial person with very Eurocentric features and beauty. It's almost like clockwork every time, and the standards of beauty are carefully upheld by colourism even while maintaining a guise of "diversity". But in Ayo's case, it's really great having a gorgeous and talented dark skinned actress be successful, beloved and hailed as a sapphic icon in a way that does not feel like audience paying lip service or being performative.
Like idk how to articulate but it's just so goddamn rare seeing an actual young dark skinned woc thrive in fandom spaces and in terms of commercial or critical success. I really hope people can learn to accept dark skinned young women in comedies, romances and mainstream show business more often because everywhere in movie and shows fandoms, from edits to fanart to fancasts to *actual* casts are BRIMMING with light complexioned actresses of colour. And dark skinned women are expected to grovel and be grateful for getting those crumbs of representation.
snowghoul
origamiaround
amandla
tangentwithtanner
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
