#JUST LOOK AT HERRRRRRRRR

[nyxorra]

OooOOOooo... quaggan must be brave...

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Me: I'm going into the korean "Like Mother Like Daughter" tag. I don't care if I'm spoiled. TT0TT I just....I need an outlet! I need to look at other people fanning about it! Me, comes back stumbling: Was that Rangshi I just saw? O_O Blue eyed!Rangi and pale!Kyoshi????? Brain: You can't keep relating everything back to Rangshi- Me:

Brain: NVM holy shit what the fuck??????

[pup-pee]

@cannimochi @cannimochi KOEIKORI AS WELL KOEI!!! U NEED THE PT2!!!!!((pt1?))

Posting this knowing it will flop cuz this app hates me when i post finished rendered pieces

ANYWAYS should i do a Discowing matching on too ‼️

[caitified]

please please please something with jealous kate and famous reader i was waiting for the day you would write for herrrrrrrrr ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

jealously

kate martin x reader

thank you for all the support everyone, i couldn't decide what career to give reader so its kind of ominous

kate had always known what she was getting into when she started dating you. as a star guard for iowa’s basketball team, she was used to being in the limelight. but nothing could have prepared her for the level of attention you received. you were everywhere. your face was plastered on billboards, your followers adored you, and it felt like you couldn’t go anywhere without people wanting to take a picture or ask for an autograph.

she loved you deeply. there was no doubt about that. but sometimes, that fame, the constant attention you received, weighed on her. it wasn’t that kate didn’t trust you—she knew your heart belonged to her. it was more the way people seemed to ignore the fact that you were in a relationship, treating you like you were single, as if she wasn’t right there by your side.

tonight was one of those nights. you had been invited to a high-profile event, a glamorous affair where the rich and famous mingled. kate had accompanied you, dressed sharp in a sleek suit, trying to play it cool. she loved being with you, supporting you, but as the evening wore on, her patience started to wear thin.

everywhere you went, people swarmed you. photographers, fans, influencers—everyone wanted a piece of your time. you were polite, always gracious, and tried your best to introduce kate to the people you talked to, but it felt like she was constantly being overshadowed. and then there were the guys—charming, smooth-talking guys who couldn’t seem to keep their eyes off you, even though everyone knew you had a girlfriend.

as the evening continued, kate found herself standing off to the side, watching as you laughed and chatted with a group of people, completely unaware of the growing tension inside her.

she was usually good at hiding her feelings, but tonight, the jealousy bubbled up, sharp and hot. when one of the men in the group casually placed his hand on your arm, leaning in a little too close as he spoke, something snapped in kate.

she crossed the room in quick strides, her jaw clenched. “hey,” she said, sliding her arm around your waist a little more possessively than usual. “having fun?”

you turned, surprised but smiling when you saw her. “hey, babe! yeah, we were just talking about—”

but kate wasn’t interested in small talk right now. her eyes flicked toward the man who had been all too friendly, and then back to you. “mind if i steal you for a minute?”

you noticed the edge in her voice, and a wave of guilt washed over you. you’d been so caught up in the event, you hadn’t realized how kate must have been feeling. “of course,” you said quickly, excusing yourself from the group.

kate didn’t say a word as she led you outside, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere inside.

“kate, what’s wrong?” you asked softly, taking her hand once you were alone. “you’ve been acting a little off all night.”

kate sighed, running a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated but trying to keep her cool. “i know this is your world,” she began, her voice tight, “and i love that you’re successful, but… sometimes it feels like i’m invisible when i’m with you. like no one even cares that you’re taken. guys hit on you like i’m not even there.”

you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around her waist and looking up into her eyes. “kate, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” you said softly. “i only have eyes for you. you know that, right?”

kate’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but she still looked conflicted. “i know. i trust you. i just… i guess i get jealous sometimes. it’s hard seeing everyone else fawn over you like they don’t know you’re with me.”

you cupped her face gently, brushing your thumb over her cheek. “kate, you have nothing to be jealous about. i’m crazy about you. i love you, not the attention or the cameras or any of that. it’s you i want to come home to at the end of the day.”

kate’s eyes softened as she looked into yours. “i love you too,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “it’s just hard when it feels like i’m competing with the whole world for your attention.”

“you’re not,” you promised, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “you’re the only one who matters to me. and i’ll do a better job of making sure everyone knows it.”

kate smiled against your lips, the tension finally easing out of her body. “good,” she whispered. “because i don’t want to share you with anyone.”

you laughed softly, pulling her into a tighter embrace. “you won’t have to.”

thanks for reading! keep your requests coming, very appreciated

[svndaysaweek]

How do you see Minji as a girlfriend? Is she possessive? Or she shy? A secret softie? Or a dominant girlfriend?

She’s a positive girl

Bright and cute mostly but knows when to get chic…

Gives me princess vibes like intelligent, high-end hobbies for example luxury brands and super expensive hotels

but at the same time cares about all the subtle things like hairbands, nails and cute phone cases

And when it comes to making love…

She’d be a soft dom…

She’d push me onto the bed and mount on me, but a bit shy.

When she cums on me she’d reward me mind-numbing orgasm in return…

“Thanks honey… It was amazing…”

I mean just LOOK AT HERRRRRRRRR!!!

[envy-of-the-apple]

HII POLY!! i just wanted to ask, (when requests are open) would you accept an ask for genderbent characters? (eg ; fem gojo) ? sorry if this question makes you uncomfortable, i've been seeing alot of fem!gojo on my feed and wanted to ask one of my favourite writers if they'd be interested in the idea. thank you !!

yes yes yes but this only applies to male characters. i only accept lesbianism so only fem!gojo fem!geto fem!toji etc etc

personally satoru would be such a bitch, but like in a rlly sexy way. she'd fuck every guy i showed a semblance of interest in. she'd release pics of me doing something rlly embarrassing in highschool. she'd turn the whole campus against me and ruin my life so no one else looks at me but her. she'd blackmail the shit out of me. i want herrrrrrrrr-

omg....jennifer's body....but fem!sato...

[azurerosses]

yall wanna see some pussy pics...

LOOK AT HERRRRRRRRR!!!!

she's never needed to fill out tax forms in her life... i envy her...

bonus: some strays that like to nap on my front porch/backyard <3

(idek where this container came from but i came home one day and there was just a kitten sleeping in it)

[accirax]

initial thoughts on DCAS episode 21

AKA, the finale :O this will be a doozy...

for Going Through It as frequently and as strongly as Jake does, i find it hilarious that all of his promotional material always looks like it was ripped straight from a dorky high school girl's instagram feed. also, go Ashley, roast that clown (/lh)

that's such a cute drawing omg!!! i always have fun thinking about how good the drawing is in the context of the universe it was drawn in. like, to us, his proportions look kinda off, but in their universe, the giant heads and tiny waists are actually really accurate. Hunter is going to be the next great artist fr.

... i thought that the point was supposed to be that Jake grew more than anyone here, which is why he was facing down Riya. i mean, i guess you could say that Ally had to grow a new personality for the beginning of the season, and then have that character develop. she is more changed from s2 Ally than Jake is from s1 Jake because Jake had more of a character in s1.

and boy, would it suck if that promise was left unfulfilled! (/s)

it is true that this (if she actually remained on Riya's team the whole time) is kind of a win-win for Ellie. either Riya loses, or she gets $100K. both are acceptable.

this was such a cute/fitting response for Jake to have. it's a really great button on their relationship.

i love how smug they look at no one wanting to help Riya.

WHEN THE FUCK WERE YOU WATERBOARDED???

actually, we know that Tom is a terrible liar, so maybe he got waterboarded by the mob boss after they figured out he was lying in the interrogation.

w... what...?

dare i say iconic

i know that they didn't really have time, but with Alec and Ellie working together (and Alec protecting Ellie, as he did here), i had kind of hoped that we'd get a bit more closure on their relationship. like, does Ellie still hate Alec for betraying her? or is the fact that they were going to be in the villains alliance together mean that they'd cross that bridge? maybe i'm just forgetting, but their relationship feels somewhat unresolved. (i mean relationship platonically btw; no hate to people who ship them but i don't need to know if they're a couple or not because the canon answer is obviously no)

i don't know if this was really necessarily but good for you girl

this is like the first time Fiore has cared about anyone ever :,D Fiore and Alec the duo ever!!!

A GENUINE SMILE????????

why are you preventing this from happening? you know Gabby, so you should know that this would absolutely work.

rewatching the beginning of the episode after knowing the end, i sorta wanted to question whether Ashley abstaining from helping could have accidentally lost Jake the win. however, Tom is just so doggedly determined to cover his man that i think he probably was the best guy for the job. like, would Ashley dive for him? idk.

okay, 1) WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK THAT WAS GOING TO DO, RIYA?!?!, and 2) HOW THE FUCK DID GABBY NOT LOSE HER ARM FROM THIS. IMAGINE IF SHE DID. THIS WAS WILD.

... does Riya understand how pain works? or the American healthcare system? Ellie surely wanted to use that money for something else, dude.

so they are kinda sweeping Tom's wrongdoings under the rug, huh? sigh. hopefully it's just a "for now" thing to be further explored in the miniseries.

i love Trevor's little :3 face

and boy, would it suck if this favor was left unfulfilled! (/s)

i watched a compilation of each Disventure Camp character's first and last lines, and let me just say, it's really weird that "Go, Jake!" (said with Aiden) is James' last line ever.

GIVE UP ON HERRRRRRRRR

(also, glad his foot seems to be doing better)

i know i probably would have made fun of this scene for being super corny/moving too fast if Tom had said "i love you," but it's perhaps equally funny that he didn't. like, c'mon bro, you can't even muster the L word in this incredibly dramatic and heroic moment?

COPE

oh boy...

y'know, beyond just not having a good time slot in which to do so, i also kinda put off writing these initial thoughts because i just really didn't feel like having to write anything about ONC's choice regarding the winner of the season. everyone online seems to have these really radical opinions-- either saying that this was a brilliantly subversive and poetic choice, or that the entire season (and perhaps even s2 before it) are ruined by the choice to let Riya in. the truth is, i'm incredibly neutral.

on one hand, i'm incredibly disappointed. if you've been keeping up with these initial thoughts throughout the season, or especially my episode-by-episode power rankings, you'll know that i've very firmly believed that Jake was going to be the winner of this season since the beginning of the merge. and it's not because he's my favorite character and i really wanted him to win or anything-- i have a generally favorable opinion on Jake, but it was mostly because i thought that the arcs and messages of the season would be best capped off with a Jake win. therefore, it's saddening to believe that they didn't capitalize on all that potential just for the sake of shock value.

then again, i really appreciate what ONC was trying to do with Riya. i can tell that they must have felt like they had a lot to prove with Riya in DCAS given how mixed her reception was in s2. so, they put in a lot of work to "fix" her character in DCAS, and, on the whole, i think they got a lot better! as much as i was predicting the Jake win, i was also kind of dreading it, just because it was the sort of cheesy, fanservicey ending that could be predicted from a mile away. so i appreciate the boldness to go for an unexpected ending, and the refusal to stagnate in cookie cutter fan-pleasing storylines when your artistic heart is driving you in another direction.

which is why, in the end, i have no strong opinions. i think that the character writing absolutely could have been set up to establish viewer expectations better, but i also don't think that the entire season is unwatchable because Riya wins. the truth of the matter is still that all of the other contestants besides Yul are the real winners of the season, because they made friends and grew as people. if you rewatch the season, you can still see the gang do just that. but the equal truth is that all of the promises those friends made and the goal that drove them to improve might all feel a bit more hopeless with the knowledge that Connor never did get to one-up Riya. People who needed the money more, like Ashley, Alec, or Ellie didn't get a cent of it. and unlike it would be for Jake, who had a lot of connections with a lot of people, many contestants had pretty much no bearing on the winner of the season at all.

i want to believe that the Disventure Camp writing can and will continue to overall get better, but i also can't ignore the obvious signs of growing pains. can't bring myself to get all too mad at them either, though. mostly, i just want to stay out of any drama.

it really shows that Jake hasn't been able to look at social media since the beginning of the show. trust me, buddy, not everyone was rooting for you.

unsurprising that tomjake gets the last kiss of the season/era.

cite your sources, please (/j)

i guess the real person Riya was lying to all along... was herself. *vine boom* because, seriously, how the fuck did she not realize that it wasn't just acting anymore? when she double-broke Connor's foot and tried to make Ally think that Jake lied about being suicidal???

[bingobongobonko]

4 hour sleep gang but sooo worth it.. lancer rpg. blinks wildly. im. 3-session long bossfight, fucking INSANE. hardest fucking fight we've ever dealt with, surrounded by webs of bombs and mines, and the Fool is a literal stand user and she fucking summoned it to kick our asses. actual hell on earth.

became this at some fucking point 😭 EVERYONE WAS SO FUCKING TIRED OF HERRRRRRRRR SHE WAS DOING SOME MIND GAMES SHIT WITH INVISIBLE MINES ANDIT WAS GRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOURE DONE!!!!! YOURE OVER! such a good fucking battle though, albeit.. [TREASURE] and kuruushi got really fucked up throughout, im pretty sure more than half of us structured at some point. i fended off a bit better cuz i kept a distance, since my balor's a long distance mf. i love my superheavies. but yeah it was. bad. because even after we kill her stand basically, she's still puttin up mines and shit, and we realize. Oh we have to do a systems check.. we have to see the mines. and WOW its bad. its bad. we're completely and utterly surrounded. one fucking step in any direction, and either the Fool or [TREASURE] is getting blown to BITS. so we're freaking out... eventually though, [TREASURE]'s got rapid jet system or summat like dat, and he fucking bolts the shit out of there, but he's STILL NOT SAFE!!! BECAUSE SHE KEEPS TARGETING HIM.. THOUGH now she realizes the mines aren't gonna work (except on kuru, who at this point has exploded on those mines and structured like 30437498494 times now... it was miserable), so she hops out of the mines and right into us and we're like AHA YOU ARE SO SURROUNDED. AND WE DO. for [TREASURE] unfortunately, she's permainvisible and so a GOOD portion, if not all of his hits, don't land :( shitty fuckin rolls, it happens though tbh. im able to get a shot in at her regardless of missing, cuz cyclone has reliability tag of 5, and tellius basically grabs a spear and forces it into her mech, making her immobile and slowed. and THEN, i ram right into her mech and slam it into a nearby pylon, and force her prone. we're all fucking dogpiling her - but then we realize, thats WHAT she wants, because she grabs her grenade launcher and points it at the ground beneath all of us, knocking back the party a good amount and im pretty sure someone NEARLY structured from that. i dont get pushback thankfully, but im not the one who does the killing blow either. tellius rams himself back into the fight and fucking grabs his drills and forces it right into where he thinks the cockpit is, and lo and behold, there is a gaping hole in the thing. and it just keels over. and in the rubble and the dust thrown about, she's still alive. she's crawling out her mech pit, barely alive, bleeding from her midsection. this is *new.* we. won? i guess. the party, particularly skink and tellius get their words in, i know it gets revealed where the people who fucked telly over are, so thats OUGHG. thats. not good is it....... we will see.. but. the fool looks up at yves and is like. "Well? What are you waiting for? Do it." and yves does not need to be asked twice. he crushes and mangles her body under the heel of his mech, like he's killing a bug. and he.. doesn't feel anything. it's not satisfying. at all. and god it makes me so sad. when all of it is said and done, [TREASURE] picks up the parts of whats left of her, and just. holds them gingerly. it barely looks like anything. its so fucked. ooc i feel so bad abt it.. we really could have saved her. if we wanted to. we could have. but i know yves wouldn't let that happen. he has no reason to. yk. the military comes in, and they just kinda cat_blink.gif at us cuz like. ermmm are you guys okay lol. No. Not really. and the party's tryin to ease the tension, and make jokes and shit, but yves is like. Shut the Fuck Up. Shut the Fuck Up. and getting riled up and upset, because he just. doesn't feel anything. and its not funny anymore. none of this is funny. and elias kinda pipes in from the back like... hey man maybe we should calm down. yk? and i wont lie to you, yves's first instinct was to start screaming and kicking his cockpit, but realizing it's elias saying this, its kinda like. You Know. and they have a whole scene and... oh :(. well. yeah. i. well. yeah. its bittersweet. he's able to calm yves down, and it's just. really sweet.

im like.

its fucking over man. hes not wrong. but also, like i was telling flore, yves is a ticking time bomb, and the fear far outweighs anything but at this very moment, its fine. its fine. he's not wrong. shit is changing. it has to mean something. even if its doing this forever and ever and ever and ever. and dont get me wrong, he loves elias a lot, but he CAN'T do this forever. not anything personal with elias, elias is. more than he ever thought he could have, just. vague hand moments. all of this. if he could get away from all of this with just elias, he would. he'll do this forever if thats whats gonna happen, but it's not preferred, even having elias there. thats the bitter part. you can love someone, but it doesnt change the horrors. but the love makes it easier. if anything. yeah. nothing changes, the horror is still lingering, but the love is there

[just-some-random-blogger]

since im on pc. im going to put a keep reading as a courtesy

[...] You could feel the cool breeze brush up against your thighs and the sun beating down on your skin just from the dusty window

UGH so vivid. i love thighs. i love how literature/art has made me love thighs when i used to hate mine so fucking much. thank you for your contribution to society

You came home one day, telling Joel and Ellie that you traded some old tactical pants for the frilly dress. Joel choked on his morning coffee when he caught a glimpse—Ellie just laughed and laughed. And now, you looked unbelievably perfect, all while you fluttered around the chairs and tables in the Tipsy Bison, talking with friends and newcomers.

as you should queen things. yeS TRADE ALL THAT GROTTY GROSS MAN STUFF GUNS AND FIREARMS FOR THE CUTESTY FRILLIEST HYPERFEM DRESSY DRESS EVER AND MAKE THAT OLD MAN HAVE A HEART ATTACK AND CHOKE ON LIFE ITSELF SLAY

Although, his soft, love-sick eyes started to harden as they continued to follow you. 

IM SO SORRY IM REQUOTING THE WHOLE FUCKING THING BACK TO YOU BUT I CANT HELP IT HES SO GRRR WOOOF BARK PUPPY PITBULL I LOVE HIM I LOVE PITBULLS WOOF AWOOOOOO

The mere sight of someone flirting with you—a shoulder leaning on a support pole with sparkling eyes—was going to send his old bones into a coma. He was sure of it. Joel's chest started to burn from a sizzling rage that crept up to his cheeks. 

HIS OLD BONEEEEEEESSSSSS T_T HES A SENIOR CITIZEN A STALE POWDER CAKE THAT WILL GO WITH THE WIND WITH ONE BLOW PLEASE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH WHY ARE YOU SO ANGRY OLD MAN GO TO BED T_T casually insulting the love of my life <3

You were the exact polar opposite of him. You were a ray of sunshine—a burst of fresh air that knocked the breath out of his lungs. You could handle yourself out there in the depths of survival. He did not doubt that, but you were still warmhearted and sweet. You were what the rest of the world seemed to have forgotten.

tRYING SO HARD NOT TO REQUOTE EVERYTHING I LOVE DUMB BABY GIRLS AND HARDENED CYNICAL FUCKTWADS I LOVE JUXTAPOSITIONS SO MUCH

“Are you gonna do something? Or are you just going to sit here and be ‘old-man’ sad?” 

I just love ellie. ellie baddie. el el rebel love

“Yeah, you are so full of shit.”

ellie and i are one. chew joel's head off. GRRR stOMP HIM. OBLITERATE THIS OLD MAN

Now, in your defense of the flirting, everyone in Jackson knew not to make a move on you. It has been established from the very beginning that you and Joel are made for each other. All you could ever see was each other. Always. 

i love LOVE THAT FOR HERRRRRRRRR CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP PITBULL!JOEL GO BRRRRR SHE'S MINE [SAD FACE CRYING EMOJI] ☹😭

[...] He wanted you to make friends in this little town you had learned to love.

hE WANTS YOU TO MAKE FRIENDS NO ONE TOUCH ME

“Hi, darlin’.”

His hand ghosted the small of your back, and it almost caused you to shiver. You looked up at him with a pretty smile, opening your mouth to let him in on the conversation. “We were just talking about patrols. I was saying how we saw that bear with the three cubs the other day! and—”

[SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS]

THE BEARSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

“Can we help you?” The man, you knew as Brad, scowled right up at Joel for interrupting the conversation the two of you were having earlier. [...]

huhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?

Brad rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s great. Could he leave now?”

“I have been here with you all fucking night. You think I’d waste my time talking about shitty flowers with you?” His lips curled into a sniveling smirk.

[...] “Why don’t you ditch the old man and come with me, sunshine.”

“If you ever touch her again, I’ll break your fuckin’ arms.” His accent slurred together with each click of his tongue. 

i am DEEPLY disappointed you didnt do that and no one had to peel you off this audacious troll rat. i dont know if its visible BUT I AM SO ANGRY AND DISGUSTED BY THIS MAN I HAD TO SORT OUT SO MANY MEMES BUT I COULDNT FIND ANYTHING THAT MIRRORED THE ABSOLUTE disgust I HAD FOR THIS MAN IN FACT LET ME CURSE HIM IN MY MOTHER TONGUE BOBO KA TITI NG AMA MO WALANG KWENTANG INUTIL HINAYUPAK GAGO ULOL KING AMA MO TANGA

“It’s all my fault.” 

[deep anger; paramount female rage] women continuously suffer at the hands of men and apologize for it never fucking mind the fact society collapsed and were all dangling on a fucking thread men are still predators who take advantage of everything everyone every woman ever because they can [spit]

“Sweet girl,” he almost purred into your mouth, “need you.” 

“Need to hear it, darlin’.” You don’t miss a beat. “Need you, Joel. Please—”

[smexy background music playing]

He bunches up the silky dress, and his eyes shine bright as he sees your pretty laced panties. [...]

girl ur ur ur ur ur ur ur in a wine cellar or some shit GIRL HEEL

You knew by the slow, agonizing pace that his hands seemed to feel you in, Joel was going to fuck you stupid. [...]

CHILE ANYWAY SO CARRY ON

“Fuck. Look at you drippin’ for me.”

Joel cracked his own smile, just for you. He caressed your cheek and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “Let’s go home, sunshine.” 

YES SIR DADDY SIR

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile as wide as you could. You knew what that meant—what he was insinuating. A fire lit inside of your chest. Damn, you could never get used to the way Joel would make you feel.

come and get your love || j.m.

chapter one of ain’t no sunshine

pairing || joel miller x f!sunshine!reader

summary || someone across the Tipsy Bison had their hand on you all night. how long will Joel Miller take to do something about it?

author's note || first part of the series! all of the chapters can be read as a stand alone, but they do go in order of a time line. hope you all enjoy &lt;3 4.1k words

warnings || jealousy, insecurities, angst, toxic people, possessiveness, fluff, 10 year age gap (joel is 51), SMUT, praise kink, oral sex (f rec), cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, [18+ only]

series masterlist || masterlist

Hail, with it, baby, 'cause you're fine And you're mine, and you look so divine

Joel’s eyes lingered on your form from across the bustling bar. It was in the middle of a Wyoming summer, so you wore a pretty light blue sundress. You could feel the cool breeze brush up against your thighs and the sun beating down on your skin just from the dusty windows. 

You came home one day, telling Joel and Ellie that you traded some old tactical pants for the frilly dress. Joel choked on his morning coffee when he caught a glimpse—Ellie just laughed and laughed. And now, you looked unbelievably perfect, all while you fluttered around the chairs and tables in the Tipsy Bison, talking with friends and newcomers. 

Although, his soft, love-sick eyes started to harden as they continued to follow you. 

The mere sight of someone flirting with you—a shoulder leaning on a support pole with sparkling eyes—was going to send his old bones into a coma. He was sure of it. Joel's chest started to burn from a sizzling rage that crept up to his cheeks. 

You were as friendly as you could be with a beer in your hand and a laugh escaping your lips. He knew you were oblivious to the flirting. You always have been. 

A couple of years ago, along the endless roads of traveling to get Ellie where she needed to go, Joel had been trying to get your attention for weeks, despite his damn self-sabotage that forced himself to avoid you in the previous months before. Ellie saw through it, though. Tommy saw it too. Hell, even Tess saw through it. The one person who had not seen just how much Joel was infatuated and hopelessly in love with you was, well, you. 

He thought that it was because he was rough and unrestrained. Joel was a jagged edge of a rock that cut deep into anyone that came near him. He thought you might not want to be with him and all of his baggage.

You were the exact polar opposite of him. You were a ray of sunshine—a burst of fresh air that knocked the breath out of his lungs. You could handle yourself out there in the depths of survival. He did not doubt that, but you were still warmhearted and sweet. You were what the rest of the world seemed to have forgotten.

Turns out, though, he couldn't have been more wrong. 

Your mind and body were washed over with every essence of Joel. When his hand was on your back to gently guide you through rugged terrain or when you instinctively grabbed onto his upper arm when a lone stranger bumped into your third-person party—your mind becomes blank.

The only thing, you said when you finally confessed, you could think about was Joel. Your body would freeze, and time would slow, your heart the only exception as it beats so rapidly you thought it might burst. So, in the end, Joel finds himself elated with pride and pure adoration that he was able to make you feel so free—so full of love.

“Are you gonna do something? Or are you just going to sit here and be ‘old-man’ sad?” 

Joel snapped out of his daze, turning his head toward Ellie. She had her eyebrow raised, with a hand on a freshly opened beer bottle. 

“Gimme that.” He muttered under his breath and swiped the bottle away from her. She let out a small, “Hey! You dick!” before huffing in frustration. “You ain’t even eighteen yet.” He slid the bottle over to Maria, who nodded back to Joel. “I’m almost eighteen!”

He huffed, ignoring Ellie’s comment. “And no. She’s got it handled.” 

You were probably the friendliest, kindest person that Ellie had ever met—especially in this shitty, fucked up world. Along the dusty gravel roads of travel, you would hold her hand and swing back and forth as Joel trailed not far behind. At night, you would shuffle your sleeping bag closer to hers, so you could laugh and giggle at her pun book until falling into a distant slumber. In the mornings, when you and Joel were keeping watch, and a lone stranger would interrupt your three-person party, you jumped in front of Ellie and pointed your shotgun at the intruder. You turned quickly, if not instantly, into a mother figure for her. 

So, Ellie knows that you have got it far from handled. She knows you are completely unsuspecting of the person that was practically throwing himself on top of you. 

“Yeah, you are so full of shit.”

Now, in your defense of the flirting, everyone in Jackson knew not to make a move on you. It has been established from the very beginning that you and Joel are made for each other. All you could ever see was each other. Always. 

So, at the end of things, when someone walked up to you with a bright smile and a gleam in their eyes that screamed “please fuck me,” you didn’t think anything of it. Your mind was no doubt in a Joel Miller trance—thoughts rolling over one another about the plains of his skin and the gruff feeling of his patchy beard on your fingertips. But when a newcomer comes along in the commune and gets introduced to everybody, that’s when they try to make their mark on you. 

“She’s fine—”

“You sure, Joel?” His eyes flickered back towards you and saw the newcomer squeeze your forearm. You think nothing of it and crack another joke at who you thought was a new friend, causing them to throw their head back in very exaggerated laughter. 

And now, Joel wasn’t sure at all—not with the bubbled-up feeling that wrapped around his chest and sunk down into his stomach. He grunted out in response to Ellie, who rolled her eyes at his demeanor. Yeah, he was far from sure. 

“Go say something, Grandpa—”

He raised his eyebrow, “hey—”

“Ellie’s right, you know.” Joel’s head whipped around at Tommy’s voice. “She doesn’t even know the guy’s flirting. She’s too trustin’ of people.” 

He gave his older brother a little smile—an all too knowing teasing smile. Joel didn’t say anything, just downing the rest of his whiskey. The ice clunked against the glass, and the two next to him just watched with anticipation. 

“Your brooding is scaring the customers away. Go say somethin’, Joel.”

He ponders for just a moment—mind circling around all of the different thoughts in his brain. He knows you are just fine. He knows you wouldn’t ever do anything of the sort.

If you actually knew that the man was flirting with you, you would stop it immediately. You’re just kind. You just wanted to make friends. He wanted you to make friends in this little town you had learned to love.

Before Joel even knows it, though, he's getting up from the stool. His own heart had taken over his body and ran home with it. He could just barely hear Ellie cheer for the old man to do something. 

His boots were heavy as he walked across the bar, his wrinkled eyes hardening with every step. His heart squeezed at the pure sight of you—a smile almost turning his frown up. That is until the squeezing of his other thoughts from the man right in front of you suffocated his chest. 

“Joel!” 

God, you sounded so sweet. Your eyes lit up so bright he thought he might be blinded. Whatever you were talking about with your new friend, it completely went out the window when you heard the stomps of his boots. 

“Hi, darlin’.” 

His hand ghosted the small of your back, and it almost caused you to shiver. You looked up at him with a pretty smile, opening your mouth to let him in on the conversation. “We were just talking about patrols. I was saying how we saw that bear with the three cubs the other day! and—”

“Can we help you?” The man, you knew as Brad, scowled right up at Joel for interrupting the conversation the two of you were having earlier. Oh, Joel did not like Brad. The scrunch of his nose as he tried to challenge Joel—as if you were a possession—was kicking up a deep rage in his chest. 

Joel opened his mouth to respond but was met with a very enthusiastic smile from you. You looked so excited. “This is Joel! He’s my—”

Brad rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s great. Could he leave now?”

Joel’s back stretched at the complete disrespect. He could handle people being mean to him just fine. When it comes to you, however, he wouldn’t tolerate anything of the sort. You were the thread that kept Ellie and Joel sane with your homemade gifts and fluttering smile. No one was going to ruin that on his watch. 

Joel watched as your bright, smiling face fell.

“Oh.” 

You felt your heart deflate from being interrupted again. It took a lot for someone to build you down, and Brad had managed to do it in no time. You thought you had made a new friend to hang out with. You thought you were finally getting along with someone in Jackson. 

Watching your face fall made something click in Joel’s head. His burning glare never left Brad’s face as he continued to run his mouth about Joel ‘needing to leave’ or something like that. This is why he hated newcomers. They think they could take advantage of your kind gestures and bring you down with them. 

Brad looked at you and then Joel—as if something finally fits in his head. He clicked his tongue, “I have been trying to get you home all night. Don’t tell me you were with him the whole time?”

“What?”

You looked bewildered at the insinuation of ever getting with Brad—let alone anyone that isn’t Joel. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

If Joel wasn’t preoccupied with watching Bradley’s every move, he would’ve snorted at your change in demeanor. You could be the biggest angel there is, but there is no doubt a fire lit right inside of you.

“I have been here with you all fucking night. You think I’d waste my time talking about shitty flowers with you?” His lips curled into a sniveling smirk.

Your hand clenched by your side but was caught as Brad’s hand went to tighten itself around your wrist. You tried to wriggle your way out of his grip, but it felt too firm. “Why don’t you ditch the old man and come with me, sunshine.”

Joel saw the hand on your wrist—the bruising grip he had on you. He saw the sickly, lust-filled eyes that the man was giving you. He knew you could handle yourself. You could throw this random man over your shoulder like he was nothing. 

But something struck him even deeper.

Sunshine.

That was what Joel called you in the secret comfort of whispered feelings. It was what Joel called you when you were badly injured, and he needed to disinfect the wound. The first time it popped into his head was when you were dancing around with Ellie underneath the morning sun. The cute nickname just stuck, and it was his.

Only his. 

Joel snapped in an instant. The long years of survival worked quickly in his brain. He bunched up Brad’s collar and shoved him hard against the wooden pole—jolting his hand from your wrist. “Get your fucking hands off of her.”

You gasped at the lightning speed of Joel’s hand on Brad’s chest, but you weren’t too phased. Adrenaline shot through your chest and spread down to your toes—eyes locking on Joel’s crinkled brows and hard-set glare. 

“Yeah? The fuck you gonna do?” Brad spat.

The bar went silent at the altercation, eyes darting to watch the scene play out. You didn’t pay any attention, though. Your eyes were on Joel. Just Joel.

Brad squirms a bit underneath Joel’s stare, but he seems to be trying to remain tough. Joel’s grip never wavered and almost shoved him further into the pole. 

“If you ever touch her again, I’ll break your fuckin’ arms.” His accent slurred together with each click of his tongue. 

You could feel the fire pulsating through his lips; you could feel it radiate off of his clenched fist. Joel squeezed even tighter against his neck, almost suffocating some of the air in Brad’s throat. He then let out a wheeze, eyes widening at just how serious Joel Miller can be. 

“You got it?” Brad’s eyes squinted at Joel before looking into the crowd around him. Terrified of all the stares and the overwhelming frown on people’s faces—and quite frankly, Joel—Brad finally backs off. 

“Got it.” He said under his breath with a slight cough. Joel very slowly let go of his collar in caution of the man. Brad just nodded, now refusing to make eye contact with the two of you, before sauntering off out of the bar.

Not far behind, Tommy and Maria were alert and watched Brad’s every movement. They had both of your backs as soon as they saw Joel shove him into the pole. Even Ellie was on high alert, which almost caused her to grab the knife in her pocket. 

Joel turned to you in an instant. His eyes glossed over your entire form, grasping every single detail to make sure you were okay. His eyes stopped at the slight tear in your favorite dress. He pursed his lips in annoyance, but then his eyes locked onto your wrist. 

“C’mon. I need to see your wrist.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

He took you into the back where the aging room was—old barrels full of whiskey and rum stacked high along the walls. He sat you down on a wooden table and went to go find some supplies. 

You sat there, feeling like you were in trouble. Joel hadn’t said a word, and your mind was starting to race at the possibilities of what he was thinking. While it wasn’t abnormal for Joel to act like this, you knew something wasn’t right.

You could see it in his calculating eyes and furrowed eyebrows—the harsh smile lines on his cheeks almost seemed deeper. You could see it in the way that his hand trembled when he moved some papers to the other end of the table.

You felt stupid for not seeing that Brad was flirting with you. God, you felt so dumb. You really thought that you were making a new friend. You felt even dumber that you couldn’t see the hostility in his eyes, either.

What was Joel thinking? Did he hate you? You knew you mistake people’s flirty gestures for friendly acts way too often.

Did it hurt him? Tears started to form on your lash line, and that sunken feeling in your chest only deepened. 

Joel finally came back with a pack of ice and a little box of first aid. He wrapped a rag around the ice so it wouldn’t burn your skin. 

“Here.” He gently placed it onto your skin, and you went to hold it down. You feel your eyebrow twitch in a cringe at the already bruised surface. You hear Joel digging through the kit in haste—no doubt trying to find some kind of ointment.

You closed your eyes. Your chest was heaving up and down at the thought that Joel had to sit here and take care of you, all while you fucked everything up. 

“I’m sorry.”

Joel’s rummaging through the first aid abruptly stopped. He turned to you with confused furrowed brows, but then his eyes widened. He saw your glossy eyes as you tried to avoid his stare. He saw the way your lip slightly wobbled while you tried to hide your emotions.

“It’s all my fault.” 

You said barely under a whisper, but you were on the side of his good ear. He heard you, and damn, his heart couldn’t have been more crushed. You didn’t do a single thing wrong, and yet you blamed yourself.

“It ain’t your fault. None of it was your fault.” He could tell, though, by the look in your eye that you weren’t convinced. He goes to open his mouth, but you beat him to the punch.

“But I should have known!” You flexed out your hand to emphasize the situation. “I should have said something or got the fucking hint!”

You let out a fast breath, eyes darting across the wood floor. His eyes flickered to the ice pack you set back on the table. “I should—I shouldn’t have been so nice! Maybe I could be less—”

Joel snapped back at the realization of what you were going to say. “Don’t you dare.” His hand instinctively lays on top of your thigh. “Don’t you ever change for people like him.”

“But I–” His hand rested so soft on your cheek, and whatever you were going to say died on your tongue. He was inches away from you now, your chests almost touching together. 

“I know my words are shit, but you are everything, darlin’. You are the kindest and brightest person that I’ve ever known.” He finally rested his forehead against yours. “Don’t you even change for me, darlin’.”

You nodded against his forehead with a small smile on your face. You knew he was right. Of course, he was right. Brad was the shithole, not you. 

He leaned in to brush his lips against yours—feverish and light as you felt the scruff of his beard against your cheeks. He licks into your mouth, and you find yourself pulling him in closer from his flannel collar. 

His tongue swirled through your mouth from desperation starting to lock inside his chest. You have made him feel all kinds of things over the years, but pure love was something he still couldn’t get used to. He needed to feel you—needed to touch you. After the searing memory of Brad’s hand on your wrist, he needed to be inside of you.

“Sweet girl,” he almost purred into your mouth, “need you.” 

You nodded into his lips. A whine escaping them seemed to be the only thing that your brain could come up with. In a mere matter of seconds, Joel was able to turn you into a puddle. 

“Need to hear it, darlin’.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Need you, Joel. Please—”

He bunches up the silky dress, and his eyes shine bright as he sees your pretty laced panties. They were dark—a black onyx—that made Joel want to drool. They rested so well on your hips—so tight. He knew there was a wet patch near your core, too.

His nimble fingers shoved your panties aside to dig—just a little—into your dripping folds. He groaned, rough and bold against the plains of your ear. “J-Joel—”

You knew by the slow, agonizing pace that his hands seemed to feel you in, Joel was going to fuck you stupid. He always got slow and steady when he knew he was going to take his sweet, sweet time. 

“Oh! Oh fuck,” the pads of his fingers move to the nub of your clit. They swirled in small circles, and your hands gripped his shoulders so tightly. Your jaw hangs slack as you feel the pleasure blossom through your stomach to your chest.

“That’s it. Yeah. Does that feel good, pretty girl?”

He was smirking, just a little. You could tell by the sound of his voice, but you see the way his lips slightly curled when your eyes flickered up to his.

“Feels so good, Joel—so—so good.” His other hand spread your legs a little wider for him, relishing in the soft pillows of your skin and curves. He gave your thigh a small squeeze before sinking onto his knees.

Your eyes were about to pop out of your head. “Joel—” You warned, honestly concerned about his knees, but the thought quickly left when his other hand shuffled your underwear down to your ankles. He dragged your hips forward so that your ass was hanging just barely off of the wobbly table. 

“Fuck. Look at you drippin’ for me.”

His eyes shined underneath the yellow-hazed lights. His head goes to dip into your folds, and he moans—sending a rough vibration to your folds. You tasted just the same—earthy and sour and so so sweet.

His hand dug into your thigh—the pad of his thumb was pressing deep into your skin. His tongue flicked and swirled to gather up that slick that dripped from your folds. He felt addicted to you—you tasted, felt, looked, and sounded so ethereal. 

“Oh, Joel—” He could have you on his tongue for the rest of his fucking life. The way you call out his name—hands desperately grabbing at his salt and peppered hair and whimpers leaving your lips. “F-Fuck, I–”

Your brain became even mushier with each flick and whirl of his tongue around your folds. “Can’t get enough of this pussy.” He gruffed.

His mouth moved to your swollen clit, and your hips involuntarily jumped—slightly closing around his head. He pried your thighs open with his rough, used hands before shoving them over his shoulders. 

You didn’t have time to react, though. Not when he was moving a finger to tease your folds. “Joel! Oh my god—” You could only whimper and shout his name. You moan, you gasp, and you whimpered even more. 

It’s all you could think about. Joel Joel Joel. He was all you ever seem to think about. 

His finger slid easily into your sopping cunt, and you moaned into the air. His tongue lapped and sucked against your swollen nub—finger simultaneously curling into you.

“Oh, Joel, I-I can’t—”

His mouth left you, only for a moment, but a whine escaped your lips.

“Gonna cum already, darlin’? Hmm?” He inserted another finger without warning, giving that even longer stretch of your walls. 

You gasped, nonsense mumbling from your tongue. He was sure you said his name in there somewhere. He felt his cock twitch at the sparkle in your eyes and the essence of ecstasy that stretched across your glistening, sweaty skin. His long, thick fingers fucked into over and over—tongue swirling across your pretty little clit.

“C’mon, cum for me. That’s it. You’re such a good girl—my good girl.” You hiccuped, head slung back as your walls continued to clench around his fingers. “You can do it, hmm? Cum on my mouth, sunshine.”

You gasped loudly—body short-circuiting and spasming as the orgasm washed over your entire body. Joel’s name was like a mantra stuck on your tongue. Your body felt white-hot and sticky as your juices flushed against Joel’s chin and your inner thighs. 

Sunshine. Sunshine. You heard that over and over again. He watched with those thick eyes as you came undone. And wow, you looked so pretty. Your gasps and moans, your body shuddering from the shattering pleasure that spreads up and down your body. He wants to remember moments like this instead of the dark ones. 

As you came down from your high, you looked down at Joel. Your strong legs pulled him in a bit closer, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his nose. He just looked up at you—no doubt he had the biggest heart eyes on you that anyone had ever seen. 

You started to laugh from the enormous high—cum running down your legs and the fact that not even fifteen minutes ago, you were hassled by another man. The whole situation seemed funny to you now. 

Joel cracked his own smile, just for you. He caressed your cheek and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “Let’s go home, sunshine.” 

You weren’t even sure he caught himself the second time when he called you that. It just flowed off of his tongue so easily.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile as wide as you could. You knew what that meant—what he was insinuating. A fire lit inside of your chest. Damn, you could never get used to the way Joel would make you feel.

He grumbled under his breath. “Shut up. I got it.”

Yeah, he definitely didn’t. He needed your help not two seconds later, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were Joel’s. Joel was yours.

[sanguinaryrot]

[HOLDS UP A PICTURE OF BRONWYN LIKE I AM A GRADE SCHOOLER WHO JUST GOT HOME FROM SCHOOL] PLEASE LOOK AT HERRRRRR I LOVE HERRRRRRRRR!!!!!!! LOOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKK!!!!!!!

[deathleadsarc]

       OCT. 31st, 1887   Happy Halloween and an Even Happier 30th Birthday to my Wicked Witch of Amestris, Christina Leota! You may call her Belladonna or ‘Your Majesty, Queen of the Night’, thank you   -   Another year passes when I actually get to celebrate such a milestone with her character and how far she’s grown, even how far i’ve grown with my own art and her appearance and face and even writing. I look at her and get deeper and deeper in this big ol pit.  Thanks for sticking around and dealing with all this mess!  /// Mutuals may reblog

[yamikawas]

Last night while you were sleeping I stole you from your room and we flew in my mech together!

I love when you’re vulnerable next to me. I live to protect you, Tobi. ⚡️💓

HAUAHSUSHDJFJDHDJJFGFHFF THATS SO SWEET??!!?!?!!!!?!?!??!@?AAAAAAAAAAAAA U COULDVE KEPT ME WITH U THO I WOULDNT MIND I JUST WANT TO BE BY UR SIDE AFTER ALL<3<3<3<<3<43<3<<3<33<<33<3AHAJSJAJDJEJEHJFGJBDBFB YOOMIE I LOVE U

[helaelaemond]

oh my goodness this was so healing to read

The way she was so excited to come to the capital and meet new people, how she's probably not used to the idea that her body is somrthing to ridicule as she's come from a unique place of the Iron Islands and how she was quickly forced to learn how she is seen. 'A swine wrapped in silk' feels like such a real insult, like something someone would say. I love the choice of animal though, harking back to the Pink Dread :'(

"Have I been found?"

AEMOND YOU DO NOT EVEN KNOW TO WHAT EXTENT YOU'RE ABOUT TO BE FOUND AHHHHHHHH and i loooooooooove her nervous laughter!!!!!!! Yessss she's not one to shy away, but she's still unsettled!!! And Aemond immediately trusting her like they have this instant connection where he believes what she says and he is the first to close distance between them!!!! Right away!!!!

bevy of bitches

OBSESEED WITH THIS PHRASING!!!!!!

there was a pain hinted with the little he would share when you two were alone, and his confidence in you made your heart soar.

the intimacy of this is just so beautiful, and then leading onto:

You could not help but cherish this time shared, your wit striving to hear his laughter which would weave into your heart, this intimacy writing itself in the marrow of your bones. You already knew you would revisit these memories when you grew old and gray, all too aware that the prince would still be expected to take a wife by the end of the week. 

like, the role so many plus size women resign themselves to is the fat, funny friend and this internal thought process is so relatable and heart-wrenching here. She thinks all she can offer is the chance to make him smile without hoping for anything in return but the memory of them.

“My dear girl, I truly believe your stocky size would have you better suited for a broodmare,”

This is such a horrible (in the best way) comment to include too - reminds me of how fat women are told they have 'child bearing hips' or their size is described as 'motherly', 'you look like you give the best hugs' type thing. Devastating in the most realistic way! You've really handled the fatphobia that feels so real welll, and in the most tender and strangely comforting way. Especially given that it's immediately followed up with:

“Shall I gift her your tongue?”

“There is no need, your grace. I would much prefer a dance than to sour the belly of a dragon.” 

SHE ATE WITH THAT I FEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! she said women support women (krakens support dragons)

The words still haunting her and driving her outside is so good too, like Aemond's one brief moment of chivalry isn't enough to overcome a week of ostracising and criticising.

Her absolute disbelief of his choice in her is so angsty my chest hurtssssssss it hurtssssss

“Would it have ever occurred to you that I find all of you attractive?”

HE KNOWS!!!!! HE UNDERSTANDS HER ALREADY!!!!!! HE UNDERSTANDS THAT THE COMMENTS HAVE MADE HER VIOLATED, UGLY, UNWORHTY AND UNATTRACTIVE, HE KNOWS AND HE'S SAYING THE RIGHT THINGS!!!!! MY HEART MY HEART!!!!!!

"If you would have me,” you now noticed the pink stain to his cheeks

HES NERVOUS TOO HES SO NERVOUS HE WANTS HER AND HE PRETENDS HES NOT NERVOUS SO THAT SHE FEELS SAFE TO BE VULNERABLE BUT HES SO NERVOUS HES BLUSHINGGGGGGG HE LOVES HER AHHHHHHHH AEMOND HAS A CRUSH ON HERRRRRRRRR AHHHH

Aemond remained respectful, of course, though you noticed how his touch lingered, his palm pressed to your lower back or his lips to your knuckles with his kiss. 

my heart and pussy are aflutter GOD

He was already bare from the waist up, his doublet and tunic removed and draped over one of the chairs, his hands pausing at the laces of his trousers when his gaze met with yours. He pursed his lips a moment, his neck bobbing. “Would you…like me to help you undress?” 

AHHHHH HES GOT HIS TITTIES OUTTTTT HAIR LOOSE TITTIES OUT DICK HARD, HEART RACING!!!!!!!! he loves her he wants her so bad im melting im melting he loves his fat wife his beautifully thick wife AAAAHHHHHH he wants to fuck her so bad ahhhhhhhhh his dick is hard and she hasnt even taken off her clothes yet JUST THE IDEA OF HER MAKES HIS PRETTY DICK SOOOOO HARD AHHHHH

Aemond smiling into their first deep kiss oh my god oh my god oh my god hes so fucjing happy and in love with his soft wife his soft in body and formidable in spirit wife ahhhhhhhhhhhh

His kiss devoured you, his passion pouring into you and you were all too willing to drown.

THE PRAISE AS HES EATING HER OUT AND FINGERING HERRRRRRRR CALLING HER TASTE SWEET FUCK FUCK FUCK MAKING HER COME BEFORE EVEN PENETRATING HER MAKING HER FEEL SO GOOD TUCKING HIS FACE INTO HER PRETTY AND THICK NECK WHILE HE FUCKS HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! COMING SO HARD IT MAKES MER EYES WATER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! UNTIL SHE SEES STARS ABOVE THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

im in fucking tears. this is so so so so so so beautiful and so fucking healing to read, this is phenominal and tender and a perfect way to handle the topic of ostracised bodies. I love you and I love this, wow just wow!!!!!!!!!!!

Hae iksā

Summary: Aemond has been tasked to find himself a wife. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Plus Size Reader Word Count: 3.8k+ Warnings: AFAB Reader, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, grinding, p in v, overstimulation, loss of virginity implied, fat phobic comments are made and a Lannister acts like a cunt. Author's Note: Hey everyone! This story is based on this request:

And I took inspiration from the prompt from @writings-of-a-hufflepuff 💜 Thank you so much to my beloved beta reader @annikin-im-panicin for your insight, for your help, Ilysm 💜 Valyrian translations: Hae iksā is as you are, Sȳz riña is good girl 😈 Dividers by @saradika 💜

You never expected to catch the eye of Prince Aemond Targaryen, much less be wrapped in his arms as you both glided across the polished dance floor. It was a moment that came from the fairy tales with how he swept you away with his graceful lead. 

It felt surreal to think how this was the very same prince whose notoriety began with the first bloodshed that inevitably threw the realm into civil war, and how it solidified when he brought it all to an end with his victory in what was now known as the Battle Above Gods Eye. He continued his regency until his brother, King Aegon II, had healed enough to ascend the Iron Throne once again. 

The king decreed that the title Protector of the Realm remain seeded to Aemond, a new namesake that shadowed the last whispers of kinslayer. With his heroism now renowned, and ballads created to commemorate his bravery, it was the king who suggested that Aemond continue his bloodline. 

There was the announcement of a grandiose festivity which began to breathe life back into Westeros’ economy, with ravens sent to every noble house, extending an invitation to every eligible noble lady. 

This was how you came to King’s Landing. 

It was the possibility of any bloodline to knit within the Targaryen dynasty that your father could not deny, and you were soon boarded onto a ship to Lannisport, taking a carriage with your septa to follow the Goldroad to the capital, your House flag and its embroidered kraken whipping in the air. 

With your travels, your septa reiterated your purpose, an almost daily affirmation repeated, but your mind was also aware of all the ladies that would be in attendance and the probability of a moment alone with the prince was… well, not something that you would hold your breath for.  

In truth, you were actually excited to visit the capital, the opportunity to meet and befriend the other noble ladies, though this optimism soon soured after your arrival. Road wearied, you were ushered by your septa and handmaidens assigned, washed and dressed in one of the many gowns stitched for this occasion: a bodice tightened to flatten your soft stomach and your chest pressed up for display. Though your whines were ignored as the corset strings were pulled, you felt rejuvenated, albeit breathless, when you were finally escorted to meet with the bevy of nobility from every kingdom, dressed in their finery and their murmured pleasantries. 

At first you were aglow with the socializing prospect, though your excitement withered when you realized the quiet that washed over, the cruel curl of their lips as their eyes narrowed, their brows raised in mockery. Any attempt you made at conversing was met with an echo of patronizing response, but it was the hurtful comment of the Lady Lannister who boldly spoke, “I suppose even a swine wrapped in silk is allowed their chance,” that made you excuse yourself, slipping away to wander the corridors until you found an ornate oak doors propped open, leading into the athenaeum. 

Here you found your salvation amongst the rows of shelving, your unshed tears drying while your fingertips brushed over the leatherbound spines. 

“Have I been found?”

It was as if your soul ripped away from your body, flooded with the burning realization that you were not alone. 

Prince Aemond Targaryen was tucked away in a window seat, a book resting on his lap. Though his expression remained severe, his tone did not indicate if truly was annoyed with your presence. Instead, he watched you, his lavender eye flitting with curiosity, perhaps, while his sapphire stone reflected in the sunlight that poured through the bay window. 

“Forgive me, I had only wished for a moment alone before I was paraded as a prize to be won…” 

This made you laugh, your hand quick to clamp over your mouth to muffle the sound, and you would have sworn you saw the flicker of amusement wash over his sharp features. “My apologies, your grace, I had not meant to impose,” and you blushed from his steady gaze. “I also am hoping for some solace with a good book, though I find myself on which to choose with this selection at hand…” 

What you had not expected was Aemond pushing to stand up, towering over your steps as he took it upon himself to walk you up and down the shelving, taking the time to point out his personal favorites and listening when you spotted your own. When you finally settled on Iron and Rubies, you noticed his brow knit with his question. “Warrior women?” 

“I must learn if I am expected to survive this–” and you paused on the word choice, bevy of bitches, held back by your good propriety, caged behind your teeth, and instead you chose to say, “–these festivities being held in your honor.”

The prince was watching you carefully as if he did not believe your words, but he did not press and instead offered a smile. It was warm, it was genuine, and you tucked this moment away in the pages of the book in your hands. 

But moments like these would repeat itself through the sennight, with your days finding its repetition: it began with a parade of skirts that flounced to capture the attention of Prince Aemond, with their indifference towards you allowing you to slip away and return to the library. 

Every day you found him awaiting you, a question poised on his lips about your opinions on the book you were reading, or sharing his complaints of the tasteless tactics shown by the ladies in attendance. You saw the loneliness that haunted the severity of his expression held, like a mask worn to keep everyone at bay; there was a pain hinted with the little he would share when you two were alone, and his confidence in you made your heart soar. 

You could not help but cherish this time shared, your wit striving to hear his laughter which would weave into your heart, this intimacy writing itself in the marrow of your bones. You already knew you would revisit these memories when you grew old and gray, all too aware that the prince would still be expected to take a wife by the end of the week. 

It soon came to the final night and his grace, King Aegon, had called for two sets of minstrels to be rotated for a continuous play of jovial melodies that the guests could dance too. The night swelled with the clash of instruments resonating  through the arched ceiling, of laughter and the clinking of crockery as every mouth partook in the feast that took a month to prepare. 

When you arrived, you were nearly ambushed by the very same Lady Lannister, pulling at your arm, almost pinching at the flesh shown past your quarter sleeve as she pulled you aside. “I am aware of your dalliance with the prince, Lady Greyjoy,” she began with a tone that struck cold against the length of your spine. “I am aware of your…friendship with Prince Aemond and feel compelled to impart some advice.” 

Your back was to the celebration, the sounds of the lords invited trying to capture the attention of the ladies who were searching for the silver haired prince muffled in this moment. Your eyes narrowed onto her. “What advice would that be?” 

“My dear girl, I truly believe your stocky size would have you better suited for a broodmare,” her painted lips continued with a sneer. “A comely lord, of course, for your status sake…” 

“Shall I gift her your tongue?”

You had barely processed her insult when his distinct timbre cut through as sharp as the blade of Dark Sister which hung at his side. You saw how the Lannister girl pale before she turned towards the prince, falling into a curtsy so deep, that her knees nearly touched the marble floor. 

“Your grace,” her spiteful tongue now stammered her words, “I was unaware that you had arrived–” 

“Or perhaps I should have her fed to Vhagar so she can no longer offend my sight?” He interrupted, his gaze settled on you alone, watching for your response. 

There was a sense of exhilaration that trilled your spine with this momentary power he presented so flippantly in this moment. You could not stop your smile. “There is no need, your grace. I would much prefer a dance than to sour the belly of a dragon.” 

He then reached for your hand, his large palm enveloping yours to tuck into the crook of his arm and leading you out to the dance floor. Here, he showed that the grace he held with a blade translated seamlessly with the waltz, and your head swam with the close proximity to him, of the woodsy amber musk that held onto his doublet. 

You then burned with the realization that every set of eyes were trained to watch, to gawk at how tenderly he held you in his arms. 

I suppose even a swine wrapped in silk is allowed their chance.

When it ended, you curtsied, quick to escape out to an enclave, to be met by the night and fresh sea air that rolled from the Blackwater Bay, the crash of waves muting the party you left behind. Your hand pressed to your chest, your heart beating against your bones, and you focused on slow, deep breaths. 

“Are you all right?” 

Your blood began to rise to the surface as you spun on your heel to face the prince. He was dressed in black, sleek and tailored to his leane frame with his house sigil embroidered onto his chest and a cape draped across his broad shoulders with a forest green underlay that peeked with the breeze. He was poised, his arms knitted behind and rested on his lower back, his silver hair glowing in the silver moonlight. 

You looked back over the bannister, your grip tightening on the stone. “Please, your grace, you have done more than enough for me this night–” 

“Aemond,” his low tone halted your words and you looked back to see his large hand pressed to his chest. “Please, my lady, with how well we have gotten to know one another, I would wish that you would call me by my name.” 

You could not help your incredulous noise to his request. “Forgive me, Aemond,” and the emphasis added on his name caused his lips to curl upwards, “but I am confused as to what game you are playing. We are both aware of what is expected of you–” 

“That I am to find a wife,” he again interrupted. 

Your lips pressed into a line, barring the frustration that threatened to spill, exasperated by his amusement that seemed to replace his usual stoicism. “Aemond,” your voice was strained, “I have truly enjoyed our time together, but now I must implore that you find your formidable wife as is expected, as I am certain she must exist,” and your hand waved flippantly back towards the entryway that led into the hall, into the sea of skirts swarming, “somewhere within the Keep.” 

“I have already, Lady Greyjoy.” 

You did not dare meet with his gaze, your eyes dropping to watch his leather boots take slow steps to where you were rooted on the terrace. It was something inevitable, something that you knew would happen, but still his words began to burn into your chest. “Oh. Then may I be the first to offer my congratulations.” 

His amusement was still apparent in his tone. “For myself or for you?”

You blinked. “Aemond, you could not possibly pick…” and you faded away, still mulling over his words. 

“Would it have ever occurred to you that I find all of you attractive?” Aemond pressed closer, his arm reaching, and you allowed him to take your hand, watching his slender fingers curl to hold, his thumb running along your knuckles.  “I would not pick and choose parts of you that I love, and just ignore the rest. I find that you, as a whole, are exactly what I have been hoping for,” and a sly smile played on his lips, “in a formidable wife.” 

It tore the air from your lungs, but his warmth kept you grounded in this moment. “Love,” was all you could manage. It was not a question, but you were unbelieving still. 

He leaned forward, the silk spill of his hair, his gaze locked onto you. “Yes,” his finger touched the underside of your chin, holding your attention. “I believe it began from the moment we met in the library, but it has become a certainty as we continued to cross paths. If you would have me,” you now noticed the pink stain to his cheeks, “I wish to announce that you would become my wife.” 

“Me?” You felt numb from his confession, from the nip of the cold air. 

He hummed again, stepping ever closer. “Yes. I love you,” and you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning your cheeks, “just as you are.”

With the announcement of your betrothal, the Red Keep was emptied of the excess nobles to begin preparations. Your fingers felt numb when you wrote the letter to your father: Prince Aemond Targaryen has chosen me to be his wife. The freedom you once shared in the library was now monitored under a spyglass; Aemond remained respectful, of course, though you noticed how his touch lingered, his palm pressed to your lower back or his lips to your knuckles with his kiss. 

His subtle gestures were for you alone and it left you wanting more.

The ceremony was intimate with only his family and your septa present. You felt dazed from the attention shown that day, scrubbed raw and hair prepared, the corset tightened around your silk chemise before your heavy gown was placed over. Your ears burned as your septa tried to prepare what wifely duties would be expected, a trepidation curling at the base of your spine.

The vows were exchanged with a chaste kiss, and soon your fingers were tucking into the crook of his arm, his large palm covering your own as he escorted you towards the marital chambers, a party in tow. It was then you saw the dragon that thrummed beneath when his voice commanded the room to empty, finally leaving you alone with your husband. 

There was a moment and he stepped further into the now empty room, while a bashfulness crept into your bones, your hands trembling to remove the cloak as your eyes fell towards the bed made. You were now painfully aware of the intimacy that would be required and your eyes dared to look over to Aemond. 

He was already bare from the waist up, his doublet and tunic removed and draped over one of the chairs, his hands pausing at the laces of his trousers when his gaze met with yours. He pursed his lips a moment, his neck bobbing. “Would you…like me to help you undress?” 

You were choked on your breath with the sight of Aemond, as he seemed to be carved from marble, lean and lithe and marred by silver scars of the battles won, decorating across his chest. He was waiting, the gleam of the candlelight on the sapphire placed in his scarred socket, and when you gave a shy nod you saw the shimmer of his hair that spilled over his shoulders with his slow steps to close the space between you. 

Your eyes fell to the lines that cut into his hips, dipping below the waistband of his trousers that rested on his slender waist; your eyes widened at the laces already loosened, at his bulge that strained against the crotch.  

Aemond was now close enough to touch, his hands warm as always, returning your attention to his bicolored gaze. You were burning with his heady gaze, from the fire you knew to be knitted with the ichor of his veins. He leaned forward until his brow touched with your own, your breathing a sweet exchange with the scent of the Dornish wine served. 

“I would not wish to hurt you,” his hum punctuating his pause, his vow to you, “I will go with whatever pace that you set.”

And so you kissed him. 

Aemond hummed again, his lips soft and sweet and so very warm against yours. It was not chaste like in the chapel and you dared to deepen the kiss, feeling his grin against your mouth and his clever tongue curling to taste.

You gasped softly and his arms wrapped to pull you flushed to his chest, enveloping you in his warmth, in his woodsy musk of sandalwood and ash. A heat began to pool at your lower back, slowly permeating throughout, sending your heart aflutter. When he pulled away, you could not control the small noise you made and it was met with an almost roguish grin, his hand taking yours to lead you to the bed. 

Aemond turned to face you and you nearly choked on your nerves as his fingers began to gently unfasten the latches and laces confining you within your gown, pulling away the layers until all that remained was your chemise and the smallclothes worn under. Your arms folded across your chest to shield, to shy away, but he was quick to wrap his large hand around your wrist, pulling lightly until your arms dropped back to your sides.

It was then that you noticed the black that eclipsed the lavender of his eye. 

“Gevie,” he breathed, closing the space once more to capture your mouth. His kiss devoured you, his passion pouring into you and you were all too willing to drown. His hands roamed to peel away the remaining layers, a red stain to his sharp features and his lips kiss-swollen and parted as he looked over your nakedness. 

 “Gevie,” he repeated, pulling you to lay back onto the bed. 

You sunk into the pillows and he climbed on top, now bare himself, his tongue relentless to lave every curve, every roll of your skin showing until the heat prickling began to consume you, his love bites flushing their dark plumes against your skin. You writhed beneath him, breathless and flushed, before he finally settled between your thighs, his fingers dimpling with his hold. 

His exhale tickled the warmth that pooled between, and then Aemond pressed forward to place an intimate kiss to the bloom above your entrance. Your lips parted with a wordless cry as his tongue began to taste, his low groan reverberating your bones beneath. 

“Just as sweet as I imagined,” he murmured between your folds and you were burning with how his clever tongue now pulled you towards an unknown edge. 

You gasped, louder than before, with the gentle prod of his fingers that were slick with his spit, curling with purpose within your velvet walls. You nearly cried out as sparks of white danced in front of your eyes, the heat that had been pooling now coursing throughout and returning to tighten in your lower abdomen. 

Aemond continued his ministrations, his tone growing husky with his encouragement, “Yes, my sweet wife, just like that,” as your pleasure began to spill, pulsing around his fingers that continued to coax you through your completion. 

It was otherworldly and you only felt grounded with the welcomed heat that permeated from Aemond, feeling him shift to slot his slender waist between your thighs. You cant your hips to cradle him in your hips and Aemond lowered to press his length against your silken folds with a delicious pressure that had you shudder. 

He swallowed your soft whimper with a sweet kiss, his hands roaming to hold you close for the slow rut of his hips against you. You felt raw from your prior release, and the mixture of pleasure and pain was now amplified when his head dipped lower, his kisses tickling and tasting the sheen of sweet across your chest and neck. 

“Aemond,” you gasped and he hummed again, his perpetual smirk playing across his lips that captured your own again. 

His mouth trailed your cheek, pressing to the soft divot below your jaw, and the rekindled heat began to lick at your spine, spreading in response. “Are you all right,” he murmured against your skin and you could only nod an eager yes, your words gone along with the trepidation from before, wiped away with his mouth and his tongue. 

This earnestness seemed to please him and his low timbre praised you. “Sȳz riña,” and you burned with embarrassment for being unfamiliar to the foreign tongue he spoke so sweetly to you. 

His arm then moved between and you felt a blunt pressure at your entrance. Your fingers dug into his shoulder blades, beckoning him forward, and he followed with his gentle thrusts, pushing slowly past the slight resistance and sinking into your wet warmth. 

You sighed when he fully sheathed, a pleasant stretch to accommodate his girth, and only when he saw your contentment did Aemond relax, melting against your softness. His head tucked into the curve of your neck, his low groan chorused your sweet sounds to this new sensation. 

Aemond then stilled, waiting until your hands moved to cup his jaw, your thumb careful to trace, and you whispered words, “I am fine.” You assured him, you begged him for more, and he responded with a slow rut against you. 

Your pleasure began to build with his pace, a passion that was rooted even deeper, and your thighs lifted to tighten around his waist, your soft cries encouraging him to quicken. Aemond snapped his hips against yours, and your pleasure began to expand, returning with the flutter of your walls as he continued, hitting a spot within that has your swearing that the stars now shone bright above the marital bed. 

It consumed you both, with your tears pearling in the corners of your eyes and Aemond following after, his thrusts sloppy as he spilled inside of you. 

You both stretched onto the mattress, flushed and spent, a comfortable silence punctuated with the crackle of candles that had been lit in the bedchamber. After he caught his breath did Aemond move to grab you, pulling you against his chest, his fingers trailing over to follow the length of your spine and back, his sweet murmured concern for your wellbeing. 

You felt flustered from his attention, promising him that you felt fine, that it was nothing more than a delicious, dull ache between your thighs.

His large hand then cupped the side of your face, his chin tilting forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “Gevie,” Aemond hummed, a low rumble in his chest. 

You could not help but ask him. “What is that word?”

His thumb stroked your cheek with his translation, “Beautiful.” It was stated as if it was the most obvious thing, your chest swelling with an emotion, bursting at the seams as he kissed your lips again. 

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @hb8301 @snowprincesa1 @namelesslosers @darylandbethfanforever9 @helaelaemond

arcie's hotd masterlist

[tiredtoothache]

[moooosh]

half mooooooon

i love herrrrrrrrr

(this just looks like ranboo as a cat. i’m aware)