#N°31

[almostarts]

Alvar Aalto, Cantilevered Armchair, Model No. 31,

Designed for Paimio Sanatorium, Paimio, Finland,

Designed 1931-1932,

Bent laminated birch, moulded birch-veneered plywood,

27 x 28 ½ x 24 inches (68.6 x 72.4 x 61 cm).

Courtesy: Christie's online

[strayingsocks]

CRINGETOBER DAYS ONE AND TWO 🔥🔥🔥

[prompts: screenshot redraw; tsundere]

[consciouscarrot]

day 31 - foursome [r.lupin, s.black, j.potter]

poly!marauders x fem!reader

content warnings; fucking filth, barty slander (sorry), bit cringe on the werewolf mentions (sorry again), very unrealistic smut, public vaginal fingering (r receiving), male oral (remus and sirius receiving), bondage with a belt (r receiving), female oral (r receiving), p in v sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, squirting, anal fingering (sirius receiving), lots of pet names (as usual), implied subspace, one mention of drool/dribble, a bit of sirius x remus focused :))

notes; last fic for my first (and hopefully not last) kinktober. only remus for a while, then the boys join later- not much james in this one i’m afraid. longest fic to date by a landslide eek MDNI

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

professor binns was rabbiting on about something you really didn’t care to listen to, more than happy to just copy remus’ notes later on.

you were sat together at the back of the classroom, trying not to doze off at the monotone voice echoing throughout the room. remus’ hand sat steady on your thigh, where it had been practically glued for the past couple days, the full moon rapidly approaching.

he was always more possessive around this time, wanting no one but the boys to as much as look at you, and even then they were on thin ice. it almost always ended up with you spread eagle beneath him, his thick cock pounding into you, impossibly high stamina causing you to be practically immobile by the time he’s satiated.

clenching your thighs together, you snapped out of your lustful daydreams, looking around to make sure no one noticed, when you spotted barty crouch jr staring at you, insufferable smirk on his face as he looked you up and down, eyes very obviously lingering on your tits.

you shifted, trying to turn away from barty’s leering when you felt remus’ scarred hand slide further up your thigh, edging awfully close to the hem of your skirt, his fingers tightening against your flesh in a near bruising grip.

looking at up at him, you saw his gaze locked on barty, eyes narrowed and barely containing the possessive growl you knew his wolf wanted to let out.

“remmy?” you inhaled sharply when his fingers slipped underneath your skirt, teasing along the gusset of your cotton underwear in slow, barely there touches, just enough to get slick to pool out of your cunt, desire creeping up your spine, leaving you near breathless with want, despite the perverted audience.

you bit your lip, trying to keep your expression neutral as you whimpered his name again quietly, looking over to find barty still staring, though his jaw had dropped slightly, focus much lower than it had been before.

“can you keep quiet for me, angel? need to teach junior a lesson,” he said, not bothering to spare you a glance as he pulled your now damp underwear to the side, smirking at the little gasp you let out when the cold air hit your bare cunt.

“mine,” he growled quietly, only loud enough for you to hear, never taking his eyes off barty for a second. you were grateful that remus’ hand covered you, not that he would ever let anyone but the boys see your body.

his fingers slid along your slit, collecting the slippery slick as he pulled your leg atop of his. his digits finally entered your heat, and you grasped desperately at his wrist with both hands, simultaneously wanting him to stop and keep going as he pumped in and out of you, tendons flexing beneath your fingertips.

struggling to maintain your composure, you buried your face into remus’ arm, praying that he’d be merciful and cast a silencing spell. blood pooled into your mouth as your teeth broke through your lip, thin skin splitting painfully as your hips bucked into his touch, high building quicker than usual.

“i want you to look at junior when you cum, if you look away even for a moment, i won’t let you cum. do you understand?” he was finally looking at you when you peeled your face from his arm, all teary eyes and flushed as you nodded, mumbling a quiet ‘i understand’ when he gave you a look.

you met barty’s wide eyes, not failing to notice how the front of his trousers has tented up, body tense as he watched your face crumple as you came, head tipping forward slightly at the sporadic pulsing of your cunt.

you collapsed back into remus’ side as you calmed down, eyes fluttering shut so you were unable to see how after remus pulled his cum coated fingers out of your underwear, he licked them clean, skin glistening with slick and saliva.

you nearly jumped when everyone stood up, panicking that they’d all caught on to the depraved act you’d just committed, only relaxing when remus rubbed your arm, telling you that class was over.

quickly fixing your underwear, he helped you up, your legs trembling from the effort so soon after cumming. you could only stand there helplessly as he packed away your stuff, throwing both your bags over his shoulder as you watched him in a daze.

you could barely think as remus half held you up as you started the walk back to the boy’s dorm, you clinging to his shirt as you tried your best to hurry after him.

you squealed when he shoved the two of you into an alcove, casting a wandless silencing spell before pressing you against the cold, brick wall and kissing you. you moaned into it, his saliva soothing your bloodied lip as he devoured you, tongue sliding against yours.

already feeling needy again, you wiggled against him, willing him to understand what you wanted, melting as his lips trailed over your neck, sucking plum bruises into the flesh, his sharp teeth nipping at the tender skin.

“oh- remmy, please,”

“shh, i know,” he said as he pulled away, undoing his belt, “need to feel your mouth on me, baby.”

you nodded mindlessly, his fingers pressing down on your shoulders until you dropped to your knees, placing your hands on your thighs obediently as you waited for his further instruction, watching with eager eyes as he pulled out his throbbing cock, tip red with arousal, a small glob of pre dribbling down his slit.

he fisted at your hair, clasping it into a makeshift ponytail before using it to guide you closer, hips jumping in suspense. leaning forward, your tongue swirled around his tip, the salty taste of his pre exploding on your tongue, making you whimper. he groaned low at the vibrations, muttering sweet yet filthy praises as his head tilted back against the stone.

dark eyes bored into yours as you took him down your throat, never looking away from eachother, even as you choked around him and tears ran down your face, cooling your heated cheeks.

“oh fuck- gonna come in that pretty mouth of yours- so close- so- oh,” his hips stilled, cum spilling onto your tongue with a drawn out moan, fingers digging into your scalp.

he nearly came again when he opened his eyes, the sight of you sat so prettily before him, tongue sticking out to show him the way his pearly cum coated the pink muscle, smiling softly with dilated pupils and oh so eager to please him.

“shit- good girl, you can swallow now,”

you nearly beamed at that, swallowing happily as he pulled you up into his arms, pressed your bodies together to kiss you again, the taste of himself on your tongue making his dick twitch as he put it away.

~

you barely made it back to the dorm, having to stop every so often to exchange sloppy kisses and dry hump eachother, just to ease the tension until the need to feel each other’s bodies was satiated for a moment.

he opened the door for you, finding the room empty, and you realised that james and sirius were most likely going to be late back as they’d be coming from quidditch practice.

you turned to remus, finding him watching you, back leant against the door.

“strip and get on the bed,” he said, leaving you no room for arguments as he rolled up his shirt sleeves.

you walked over to his bed, ripping off items of clothing as you move, before crawling up to kneel again, waiting patiently for him.

he spent a few minutes just watching you, observing your every tic, the way you breathed heavily, mouth slightly parted and cheeks rosy, the way your breath hitched when he began to walk over to you, loosening his tie and undoing his belt again, wrapping it around his rough palm.

his free hand cupped your face, thumb gliding over your glossy lips as he smiled at you, pressing the digit into your mouth, humming at the way you suckled at it, lids fluttering in pure bliss.

"what's your safe word, sweetheart?" he pulled his thumb out with a wet pop, smearing your spit back over your lips as you mumbled against him.

"yellow for slow, red for stop,"

"good girl, now lie back for me,"

once you were flat against the bed, he flipped you over, pulling your hands behind your back to tie your wrists together with his belt, tight enough to make it hurt just enough for your mind to go fully spacey.

satisfied with the bonds, he gripped your hips, tugging them up so that you were on display for him, cunt exposed and face pressed into the sheets, facing the closed door.

slick had poured down your thighs, smearing across your skin from all the dry humping and walking. he kneeled down on the bed before gently blowing air onto your puffy cunt, chuckling when you pushed back on the feeling, desperate for any kind of stimulation.

giving you no warning, he shoved his face into the mess between your thighs, eating you out from behind. you cried out, unable but needing to grip at his hair and pull him into you. he lapped at your arousal before drawing your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly at the sensitive nub, holding you down as you writhed and kneading at whatever skin he could reach.

you were a mess of constant whimpers, your high building up quicker than you could cope with. but, just as you were about to fall apart, he pulled away, your orgasm falling just right outside your reach.

“no, no please-, i was good! no-,”

remus watching your cunt clench around nothing, even more slick dribbling out, although now it had turned thicker and opaque, just how he liked it.

“you’re creaming f’me already, baby? i don’t even have to try and your cunts all messy,”

tears streamed down your face and you begged him to make you cum, begged him to make you feel good, making desperate promises to do anything he wanted, anything at all.

“shh, it’s okay, need to feel you cumming round my cock, ‘kay?”

you nodded, just happy that you were getting what you wanted.

he pulled his cock out again, still damp with your saliva as he rubbed his tip against your puffy cunt before pushing in. you always took him so well, tight walls hugging him like a glove, pulsing to accommodate his length, cunt almost as eager to please as you were.

you mewled as he started fucking you, one of his feet up by your head for leverage, pounding into your sloppy hole. you were so close already, only needing a few thrusts to tip over the edge, your thighs trembling and fingers trying to grasp at anything behind you.

you screamed when he didn’t stop, gushing around his cock as you’re immediately sent into another orgasm, his fingers swirling on your oversensitive pearl. you tried to squirm away, mouth open in a silent scream as you panicked at the overstimulation.

he hushed you, groaning at the way you clenched down on him before he pressed his weight onto you, cementing you to the mattress and biting into your shoulder to keep you grounded.

you were both getting close again, eyes rolling back, his fingers slid up your back to the base of your scalp, gripping at your hair, pain and pleasure swirling together as you came again, squirting so forcefully that his cock was forced out of you.

“this pretty cunt is mine,” he growled, pushing back in just in time to coat your walls in his cum, walls fluttering around him at the noises that came from remus’ mouth.

you sighed, beginning to relax now that you thought you were getting a break, thinking he was going to stop and pull out any second.

you started sobbing when reality hit you, his hips never slowing. you were so overwhelmed and feeling almost too good, his tip hitting your g spot perfectly on every thrust, clouding your head in a fog so thick that you wouldn’t be able to get out of it on your own, completely gone under his touch.

“i know, i know, bunny. doing so well, that’s it, sweet thing,”

you’re a complete mess beneath him, shaking violently as you babbled, unable to form proper words or sentences, nipples brushing harshly against the sheets.

you barely noticed the door opening, both james and sirius entering wide eyed to the display of you being pounded into the mattress, looking at them all glassy-eyed with an empty head.

“are you two just going to stand there like muppets or are you going to join us?” remus quipped, moaning loudly when you squirted again.

snapping out their daze, sirius quickly locked the door behind him before they scrambled over, cocks already chubbing up.

james went over to remus, rubbing at your back as he intently watched the strings of slick joining your skin as the latter thrust his hips into you, the sounds of skin slapping and lewd, wet squelches filling the room.

sirius however, went straight over to your head, kneeling down next to you with concern wrenching his features, carbon black eyes piercing into your teary ones.

“you okay, lovebug? doing so good for rem,” he said quietly, more than well aware of how remus could get at this time. he stroked your sweat-damp hair out of your flushed face, ignoring the way his cock was throbbing in his trousers at your uncontrolled noises, completely pliant and docile.

unable to speak, remus luckily took mercy and answered for you, “she’s juusst fine, aren’t ya, sweet thing?”

you nodded into the sheets, james testing the waters a he ran his hands strayed from your back, squeezing at whatever flesh remus allowed him to.

sirius planted kisses over your face, murmuring praises to you sweetly. he loved these moments with you, getting to be the one to comfort you whilst you were flying high on pleasure. he kept talking you through it as remus came again, soothing you when you whimpered at remus pulling out to let james have a go, leaving nothing to stop the mixture of his and your cum to dribble out of you, trickling down your sore thighs.

remus undid his belt from around your wrists, rubbing at the reddened skin as he encourage james to take his place, watching as the latter pushed into your heat, whining at the warmth of you.

“easy now, she’s tired,”

“she feels so good,” james grabbed your ass, fingertips digging into the soft skin as he started thrusting into you, starting out slow and controlled before he gave up trying to hold back, fucking you so hard you could barely breathe.

you just about managed to bring your aching arms up, reaching for sirius, he brought his hands to meet yours, thinking that’s what you wanted, only to lurch over at the way you palmed over his trousers, fingers fiddling with his zip.

“please?” you whimpered, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“okay, okay fuck- think you can take me in your mouth, darling? yeah? okay,”

sirius bit back a groan at the way you were already salivating at the sight of his cock, drool slipping out the corners of your mouth as your tongue lulled out, looking up at him as you waited for him.

you let out the prettiest little noises around his cock, sending vibrations through him making him shudder as remus came up behind him, guiding him to lean back and let him undress him.

you hummed in satisfaction, watching remus tease at sirius’ nipples and suck at his neck whilst both their eyes were on you, muttering filthy things as james continued to fuck you, all desperate thrusts of hips and sweet moans.

“good girl, taking siri so well,”

“yeah, she’s so good- more please- oh,”

sirius’ balls slapped against your wet chin, his hips bucking into your mouth when you increased the suction, tongue swirling at the underside of his cock, gagging slightly at the intrusion.

james pulled your torso up a little, tugging you up so that sirius could fuck your mouth easier, strong arms working to hold you up, “there you go, feeling good, baby?”

you nodded the best you could with a cock between your lips, eyes rolling to the back of your head with the noises that echoed around the room.

sirius’ cock twitched in your mouth when remus’ hands started wandering, watching the way he cleaned up you spit coated chin with his fingers, before sliding his hand down to sirius’ ass, gently stroking over his rim, causing him to buck into your mouth harshly.

“fuck- rem i can’t- cant take both,”

“yes, you can pads, let us make you feel good, hm?”

sirius had no chance to object before remus was pushing a finger inside, prying open his tight hole and pressing against his sweet spot, making sirius toss his head back against remus’ shoulder.

sirius’ hips bucked wildly into you, moaning at the way you spluttered around him, spit drooling onto his hard cock. he didn’t last long before cumming straight down your throat, the dual sensations of your mouth on him and remus’ fingers inside too much at once.

whimpering as you continued to suckle on his sensitive head, his legs gave out, the only thing holding him up being remus’ free arm wrapped around his waist. the lycanthrope’s fingers slowed to a stop as he gently pulled the boy’s cock out of your mouth, before guiding him to lay down next to you.

you brought a shaky hand up to sirius’ beside you, clutching at him for dear life as james pushed you head back into the linen sheets, hips speeding up more than you thought possible.

the warmth deep inside your belly was spreading, making your toes curl, unable to do anything but cry and take it, screaming in pleasure.

your thighs were burning from exertion, jaw aching and cunt oversensitive, but you didn’t care, you weren’t even capable of caring about anything other than cumming at that moment, the feel of james’ tip hitting your g-spot rendering you cock drunk.

“you’re so tight, lovie. need to feel you cum, m’so close- oh,”

remus knelt down beside you, taking sirius’ place as he murmured to you, “being so good f’me, darling. just one more and you’re mine again. cum on jamie’s cock for me and i’ll spend the next 24 hours worshipping your body.”

you instantly fell apart, nails digging into sirius’ skin as your eyes rolled back, body shaking so hard that james was half worried he’d broken you, before he too came, flooding your insides with his seed, your pulsing cunt milking him for all that he’s worth.

you both collapsed, lying in a pool of your own bodily fluids, a mixture of everyone’s cum and sweat, spit and tears. you couldn’t find it within yourself to care, still mewling even though no one was touching you anymore, aftershocks nearly enough to make you cum again.

using what little strength you had left, you managed to peel open your eyes, finding remus’ gaze still locked on you, lips pulled into a smug smirk as he mouthed to you, “mine.”

he planted a long kiss to your sweaty forehead, before he allowed sirius to pull you into him, your tits pressed against his chest as you buried your face into his neck, dark curls tickling your nose, his arms enveloping you.

you felt remus stroke at your hair, still knelt on the floor, as james joined the cuddle, curling up behind you with a worn out sigh, “what triggered that then?”

you whined into sirius at the question, worrying that it would set remus off again, the former’s large hands rubbing soothingly at your back.

“junior was leering at her,” he growled, tension filling the air as his fist subconsciously gripped at your hair, making you go rigid, “he wanted to touch her.”

“we can deal with it tomorrow,”

“yeah moony, let’s just look after our girl for now,”

remus hummed, seemingly content with that, fist relaxing as he pressed a few apologetic kisses over your head, waiting until you hummed in acknowledgment to speak, voice low with thick desire.

“it’s my turn again, sweet girl,”

despite being so worn out, you couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched at that, warm cum oozing out with a sleepy moan.

you were the lamb to his wolf, helpless prey only there to entertain him, to please him; and he would never let you go.

[kkeidawrites]

He Watches

Welcome to Day 4 of Blacktober!

The dark hue of Gotham City illuminated the sanctuary of the woman currently in bed. She tossed and turned on the linen, her forehead a perfect line of sweat and curls right under her hairline.

Her face contorted, a tint in her brow as she tossed to her right side, her hand suddenly grip the sheets by her face.

“Quiet tonight are we?” A deep voice taunts.

Y/n gasps at the voice but, tosses again; her head falling back against her pillow as she presses both hands to her crotch, letting out a whimper.

“What have we agreed on?” Soft buzzing could be heard from the chuckling man sitting in the corner of the room where the light of the moon shined through the large balcony window.

It glittered on the white patch of hair that nestled between the red tresses on top of his head. Jason Todd, known as the Red Hood to the Gotham civilians watched from his lounged position holding a red button in his right hand as his left cushioned his chin.

His thumb rolled up on the remote he was holding, a click was heard and the vibrating noise rose in volume and so did Y/n’s moans she could no longer hide away.

Jason smirks as he watches his lover wither on her bed. The white silk sheets that she so often kept clean were now becoming soaked in her essence flowing from between her legs.

Not knowing where to put her hands, Y/n grips her sheets as her legs were now open and Jason could finally see the vibrator peeking from inside of her pussy.

“Jason, oh my god!” She finally cries out and Jason chuckles quietly.

“I thought you just told me to watch? I can’t go back on your request, doll.” He says and Y/n groans in frustration.

To make things more interesting he presses up so the vibrator was on the highest setting on the remote and Y/n screams.

She tussles around in the bed for another 30 seconds until her lower body was thrusted in the air and freezes. Her cum leaks down her legs and the vibrator finally slips out of her pussy.

Y/n then curls up on her bed, knees up to her chest as she pants, her body shivering here and there.

While she collected herself, a shadow loomed over her body and Y/n looks up to see Jason holding the now wet vibrator in his right hand with a large grin on his lips.

“Good job babe. You lasted 45 minutes without coming. Now then,” he holds up a dildo as his grin turns sinister.

“Why don’t we try something more…extreme?”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Enjoy and make sure you reblog, like, and comment!

Also I’m glad I was able to include Jason having red hair because he is a natural red head that just dyed his hair black.

Happy Blacktober!

[damn-stark]

Chapter 31 In that big ol’ room

Chapter 31 of Moonlight

A/N- we’re close to the end :(

Warning- talks of postpartum depression, ANGST, swearing, violence, fire, blood, and DEATH. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 535-539

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

The memory of her death, even though it was recent and still a raw one in your mind, can’t stop playing in your head over and over again.

Like a veil it obscures your vision, not letting you take a good look at the newborn babies you just gave birth to, and here's the thing, as bad as it sounds you don’t care to look at them. Even if you cradle them both in your arms you can’t find that joy or relief to look at their red little faces and wait for their eyes to open to tell you who their father might be.

You keep the veil over your face like a badge of honor to remind yourself why you wear it. You don’t want to forget even if it's impossible to do so. Does it make you a terrible mother?

All you wanted to be as a mother was to be the mother yours was to you. You want to nuzzle with all three of your babies now that you’re together. You want to love them and let go of your pain, but…then Daenys begins to cry a shrieking cry and it takes you back to that moment where your mother shrieked before she burnt, and you’re bombarded with frustration.

“Take them,” you demand and turn to the edge of the bed to let a handmaiden take them from your arms so they can shush the shrieking babe.

However, she only cries louder and your frustration starts to torture you by bringing rage along.

You try to shake it off, but as you close your eyes the memory of your mother burning plays vividly so you quickly snap your eyes open and simply sit there ruminating in your anger and frustration, hoping it’ll fade into something you can manage, but alas, that veil only gets thicker to the point you can’t see what’s in front of you. All that exists is your anger and…a desire—no, an obligation to kill Aegon for what he did. It doesn’t matter if they end up killing you in the process.

You don’t care as long as he’s dead too.

He has to die…

Thus in a blinded rage, you swipe the scissors that the handmaidens used to cut the twin’s umbilical cord and then drag yourself off the bed, catching the immediate attention of all the handmaidens.

“Princess what are you doing?! You should not be moving!” Vanessa warns you and rushes to your side to attempt and move you back to bed, but you put your hand up to stop her.

“Leave me,” you snap without meeting her gaze. “I am going to try and call to my dragon,” you lie and push yourself off the bed, causing your bloody and soaked gown to fall over your body, and feeling sharp pains shooting throughout your body, threatening to keep you down, but you just clutch onto your belly and swallow back your pained groan before you start to drag your feet without bothering to put anything on your feet.

You just start walking, making the poor handmaidens' hearts hurt with pity and concern.

“Don’t dare and follow me,” you warn them as you keep the scissors hidden in your sleeve so they won’t stop you.

“But—”

“No,” you cut them off and leave out the door where guards are there to greet you. “If you follow me I won’t need my dragon to kill you. I’ll do it myself,” you warn them bitterly.

However, unlike the handmaidens, they move to trail after you, making you bring yourself to a stop and peer over your shoulder with a glare. “I said. Stay,” you grimace. “Guard the twins. They are more important. What threat can I be anyway?” You try to deceive them, and after a moment of debate, they step back to their previous position, letting you continue to trudge forward.

However, every step you take is a cruel reminder of what you just went through. And with every step you want to stop and take a break, but you keep moving your bare feet and exhausted body forward because what is your pain compared to the pain your mother went through every single second before she was ripped apart?

Nothing…that’s what. Nothing compares to the suffering she went through. It's why you keep moving forward. It’s why you clench your jaw as you grow angrier, and it’s why you clutch onto the scissors you keep hidden. Even though you have no idea where Aegon is, you keep moving—then again is it really hard to find him as he’s bound to that wooden chair?

Not likely. He can only be in so many places. Is it the throne room? The master quarters? Or the meeting room?

You’ll go search in all of them if you have to. Even if you’re writhing in agony you will find him. After all, what does he know of Dragonstone? He’s never called it home like you have. This is your home! Yours! Your mothers, your brothers, your cousins, and your children’s home! Not his! So you will find Aegon.

Aegon.

Aegon.

Aegon.

Aegon…

After a while of stalking through those corridors like a vengeful ghost terrorizing the castle, you finally catch the sound of his voice coming from the meeting room. He’s not alone either, you can hear Ser Alfred and Lord Larys with him too, but it’s okay you can wait and if they don't leave his side then you’ll still ram your scissors through Aegon’s throat.

You wait first though. Just for a while.

“…killing Lord Corlys Velaryon would not be a wise action. Even if Ser Alfred has a point about having Rhaenyra's allies suffer consequences, he still has the greatest fleet and a bastard boy who will never ally with us.”

Aegon hums before he interjects. “Then…we make him bend the knee and ask for forgiveness. He did turn against Rhaenyra when she imprisoned him, besides…his counsel would be welcome.”

The corner of your lips curl to a scowl and your grip around the scissors only tightens more.

“If he doesn’t comply we have his granddaughters in our grasp. We will just threaten one of their lives until he bends the knee,” he shares without an ounce of hesitation. His words just roll off of his tongue.

“That will surely work, but I’m certain we won’t have to take those measures,” Lord Larys says before Ser Alfred cuts in.

“That is if he doesn’t call to his other granddaughter, Lady Rhaena, and her wild dragon. With Astraea still alive, they could use Lord Stark’s new host and Lady Arryn’s host to turn against us. And we don’t have the numbers to compete.”

Aegon scoffs with displeasure and Ser Alfred continues with a bit of hesitation.

“That is why I suggest we kill Rhaenyra’s son Aegon…”

Your pinched eyebrows falter as the rage contorting your face turns to disbelief for a second.

“…That way they don’t have an heir to use against us. With Prince Aemond’s son you don’t need Aegon as heir, nor will your niece be a threat with her now betrothed to Lord Stark. Killing Aegon will discourage the forces, it will show them that we still have power and that we are not to be trifled with.”

No. No. No…

Aegon can’t die too. Your mother would have fought to the death to keep him alive; her last living son.

Plus, he is your brother. Even if you weren’t raised together and he’s more like a stranger to you, he’s still the last living brother you have so he can’t die. You can’t let him die, and…you…won’t. Even if it means swallowing your anger and your pride you will keep him alive.

Thus after a deep shuddering breath, you drop the scissors meant to kill Aegon, making a loud clattering sound the moment the metal hits the floor. After that, you draw out another trembling breath before you slowly step out of hiding and come across guards on their way to investigate the noise.

“I have come to see the King,” you mutter in defeat and ignore the way they look at you with disgust as you’re still wearing your birthing gown and have not cleaned any of your sweat, tears, or blood.

“This…way,” one guard points to the hall as he steps aside, letting you push your chin up and continue to trudge forward.

Once you’re in the sights of all three men you bring yourself to a halt and force yourself to drag your eyes toward Aegon, even if it brings you more pain than when you were walking where you are.

“Princess,” Ser Alfred gasps.

“Bring—”

“No,” you cut Lord Larys off and hold your belly. “I come to say one thing.”

You draw in a deep breath as you hesitate to form your next words.

You will say what you came here to say, there’s no doubt about it. But even if it hurts to admit it, having to sacrifice your own dreams to save your brother wounds you deeply because it’s Aegon; the man who killed your mother, the man who you always hated, and the man who has always been so perverted and gross. Furthermore, after having immunity by being betrothed to Cregan, Aegon is taking that away too.

“I,” you breathe out and break your silence, but don’t continue right away. First, you fall to your knees with a pained groan and then, continue with your head hanging. “…Will marry you.”

You miss the looks that are shared and fail to look strong and nonchalant. Your voice and your face both expose your weakness as those words pierce your soul.

“Just please,” you beg in a quivering voice. “Don't kill my brother. He-he can go to the wall the moment he turns of age. Just please, please don’t kill him,” you plead in the same desperation you used to plead for your mother's life.

“He’s all I have left of my family,” you whisper. “Please, Aegon. He doesn’t even have to be raised in the Red Keep, you can send him to be someone’s ward. Just please…don’t kill him.”

You can hear shifting and wood creaking before Aegon’s voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise, and a twinge of anger sparks back where it had been burning before.

“Look at me,” he says smugly because he has control over you like never before. And even if you don’t want to meet his gaze. Even if the thought disgusts and angers you, you slowly pull your head up and meet his gaze with a hardened look.

“I accept your proposal. It’s a relief you came to your senses, my sweet niece. Just tell me you renounce your betrothed Lord Stark and you are mine.”

You swallow back thickly and feel your lips twitch down before you open your mouth and respond with dread. “I do. I renounce my betrothed Lord Cregan Stark.”

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“Were my letters sent?”

“Yes,” Vanessa gives your question a response before leaving you in your solitude once again.

“<I love you.>”.

Tears slipped past her eyes…small beads of salt and sorrow littered water rolled down her face the same way they involuntarily run down your cheeks right now. You remember.

Having memories is a blessing. The way one's mind can recall things that happened in the past is truly fascinating, but right now, like every other second since your mother died, your mind and your memories are cruel. They bring such a visceral physical aching pain that can’t be tamed, it's so deafening and it makes you grow overwhelmed fast. It doesn't even let you find solace in the sun's touch because you refuse to welcome its cold embrace.

Usually admiring the sea is a quick calming effect too, but even though you’re surrounded by it as you remain in Dragonstone, you refuse to look at it; almost as if it is guilty of causing your pain.

Lastly, being with Aerion is a great way to bring a smile to your face and relax your current aching heart, but you can’t be your children’s mother right now. You tried, you really have tried, but that connection feels like it’s blocked by the entity that is your rage, grief, and sorrow. It feels like you can’t love them until you take care of that which brought you pain and took everything away from you. Is it cruel?

Maybe, but you did make it your task to at least study your twins to know how they look, and you can say that Daenys has the same blond-silver hair and blue eyes Aemond had. It’s too soon to tell but you have a feeling she’s going to look like him too. As for Daenerys, she’s smaller just like she was in the womb; she’s a lot slimmer than her sister too, and her eyes are…grey, but Vanessa says that she’s far too young to really know if that’s the eye color she’ll have forever. They might change colors as she grows older, so the jury is still out on who her father might be, more so because her hair color is white-silver just like yours, which, that in itself is good. It’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.

So now all that you’re pestered with is that you can’t be the mother that your children so desperately need. With Aerion grown so attached to your mother, he’s missing her terribly. He won’t stop calling out for her, and it hurts because you’re here but you can’t make yourself comfort him, and it’s not because you don’t want to, you do, but…there’s just so much pain that you can't scrape up an ounce of any other emotion besides anger. Loud, throbbing, and agonizing anger that makes you scream out to the ground as you fold over the edge of the bed.

Does that ease everything that torments you? No, but it lets you stand up and walk out of your chambers—at least Aegon lets you have free reign of the castle since you are his betrothed and because he knows you won’t risk your brother's life since he holds it in the palm of his hand.

Alas, when you step out and try to walk to the library or anywhere you can spend your time where Aegon won’t be, you’re reminded of your mother. The memory of her haunts every hall and every corridor, so you can either return to your quarters or go…visit Baela. You haven’t gone to see her or attempted to free her from her imprisonment because once again it’s your emotions that keep you away, they’ve kept you captive and isolated in your lonesome to let you simmer in your rage-born hatred.

However, you have nothing to do now and Baela has no clue what happened—and how can you let her continue with her days thinking of a life that no longer exists? And if you can’t muster an ounce of warmth then she at least deserves to know the truth. Thus after some hesitation, you make your way to the cells at the lowest part of the castle, but linger in the shadows for a moment and debate returning to the isolation of your chambers as you imagine how the interaction could play out.

She could hate you and she could also blame you for your mother's death, but if she doesn’t know she wouldn’t have the ability to do any of those things.

Yet she needs to know, so after a deep breath you slowly walk out of the shadows and make your way to the only occupied cell. Right away Baela spots the shadow that casts on the cell floor and lets her curiosity get answered by looking over and seeing you standing at the other side of those bars.

“Baela,” you greet her with a whisper and she takes a few more hard blinks before she shoves herself to her feet and rushes to the bars, letting you notice that she looks slimmer than the last time you saw her, and she has burn scars on one part of her face. She also has short hair now too so she sports a cute afro.

“The twins,” she says after she uttered your name with a surprised gasp. “They’re born?”

You offer her the ghost of a smile and nod. “Yes, girls, Daenys and Daenerys.”

Baela sighs with relief and offers you a sweet and happy smile that you can’t mirror. She’s quick to notice it; along with your drooped eyes and falling lips. Yet before she can interject you beat her to speaking.

“Aegon told me about what happened. I’m sorry about Moondancer,” you offer her your condolences and linger where you are for a second before you step forward and gently wrap your hands around hers.

“She went out fighting,” her voice quivers, and her eyes water. “And she might have not killed Sunfyre but…”

“He can't fly because of Moondancer, he’s rotting away in the courtyard,” you cut her off to offer her some hope before the dread is revealed.

“Sunfyre is dying?” Baela queries with a twitch of her lips.

“He is.” You nod. “No doubt about it. He should die any day now.”

Baela musters a faint smirk before lifting her chin and slowly looking at you in confusion. “What are you doing here without chains? Is Astraea okay?”

You nod lightly. “She suffered some injuries at the Second Battle at Tumbleton, but she will be fine. She’s just off the Island for now.”

Baela scoffs and passes you an amused look. “Why? Are you two upset with each other?”

You swallow back thickly and let the silence build up as you admire the way she manages to smile in such gloomy times and in such a dark space.

“No,” you mumble after a moment of admiration and drop your head to let out a heavy sigh whilst your grip unknowingly tightens around her hands. “Baela listen to me…I’m here because I was hurt in the battle at Tumbleton. Astraea brought me here and Aegon and his party were able to hold me captive,” you pause and she tries to slip her grasp from under your hold, but you refuse to let go.

“Okay,” Baela whispers.

“In my captivity, I attempted to escape to find my mother, and I did find her, but,” you swallow back the lump that was quick to form in your throat. “She was already here. I couldn’t even sail past the island,” you mutter and find it hard to look up at Baela even though you’re curious about her current reaction.

“I tried to save her. I swam and ran to her to try and save her, but…I-I was too late,” your voice quivers and you feel Baela stiffen under your grasp—“they overwhelmed us and Ser Jason betrayed us, so they were able to take us. That’s…when…Aegon,” you gasp shakily. “He…killed her,” you let out with a growl as your anger overturns the sorrow that was clinging in your throat.

“No,” Baela whispers. “No. No…” she trails off and manages to yank her hands from under your grasp.

You continue to look at the ground beneath your feet, but you hear her back away in the growing silence.

And it’s in the silence that violent memories of that night come forth and you stop feeling sorry for yourself. You push back your grief and sorrow, and let your agony, your loud and throbbing rage come forth to take control of every part of you.

“But it’s okay,” you interject in a voice that finally holds emotion, but not warmth to comfort her, a coldness that only accompanies the bad. “It’s okay, Baela,” you continue and look at her with a gaze bathing in raging flames of malice, giving Baela chills when she finds your eyes.

“<Because I will avenge her. I will avenge our Queen,” you say in Valyrian so the guards nearby won’t understand. “I’m set to marry Aegon, and it’s when I become his Queen and garner some of his trust that I will kill him. We will.>”

Baela watches you with concern as your eyes grow dark and a wicked smirk paints on your lips. Yet she also feels relieved that your mother will be avenged. It’s that fire that will keep the war alive and bring justice.

However, you then continue adding on to your plans.

“<But not before I burn down the part of King’s Landing that killed Joffrey and forced my mother to flee,>” you reveal without remorse or a hint of deceit, only coldness and madness, and that’s when Baela’s concern outgrows her own thirst for revenge because hasn’t she lost enough?

“<But you can’t,>” she protests your plans in Valyrian and makes your face contort with confusion.

“<But I can,” you counter. “I have the means to. I have my dragon. And they deserve it. How can they go unpunished when they rose up against the crown? Besides,” you scoff. “Say what you want about Aegon, but he is still a Targaryen and those were our dragons, he’ll let me take revenge and put those people in their place.>”

Baela makes her way back to the bars and you see her eyes are still gleaming, but now as she speaks you know she doesn’t cry for your mother, she’s tearing up out of a gnawing worry. “<But what will raining fire down on those people cost but your life? Your own humanity?>”

“<Humanity?>” You quip and feel your face twist back with anger. “<Did they have humanity when they killed my son's dragon? Or every other dragon that lived in that pit, at that? Did they have humanity when they rose up against a woman trying to help them?!>” You raise your voice and grip onto those bars with a deadly grip.

“Perhaps not,” Baela counters in the common tongue. “<But that’s when you become the bigger person and show them we can still be a fraction they can trust and believe in. We can have them help us in our fight against the traitors that still remain!>”

You look at her as if she offended you and shake your head. “But don’t you get it? It was because they turned against my mother that she had to flee. It was because of them that she’s dead! There's no point in saving such traitorous and disgusting people. Don’t you see?”

“And don’t you see that raining fire will result in more smallfolk asking for your head?!” She exclaims. “Don't you see that it will turn you into someone unrecognizable that you won’t even comprehend? You will lose yourself!”

You clench your jaw and lower your jaw as your glare turns fierce.

“Let it go,” Baela warns. “Let all that anger and thirst for revenge go because it will kill you and I have already lost enough. We both have. Just do it the right away. It may be a longer path but it won’t get you killed.”

You blink as you take in her words. Not because you’re considering them, but because you don’t know what to answer with. Not at that moment.

“No,” is all you muster, and fall quiet again, letting her draw out a deep breath and linger in the growing silence for a moment before you finally blurt words that just bombard your mind. “What if it had been Jace?”

“Don’t,” Baela warns but you continue and lean your face towards the bar.

“I will,” you rebuttal and keep going. “If it had been Jace who had died in that riot you would not think twice about doing what I want to do even if it cost your life!”

“I said don’t!” Baela exclaims and slams her hands on the bars hoping it will scare you off, but you just stare deep into her eyes and try to press her.

Yet there’s no buttons to push. Anger perhaps reigned over her once, but you don’t see it now through the windows that let you take a peek at her tired soul.

“Do what you want,” she says and follows up with your name as she continues. “Just don’t expect me to have your back because your mother is the last person I will grieve in this war,” she remarks and backs away toward the shadows of her cell. “I won’t hold a candle for you anymore,” she adds with an attempt at sounding angry but she sounds more sad than anything else.

“Okay,” you mutter and blink repeatedly, feeling your eyes sting with tears that build up in your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. You draw in a deep breath and nod stiffly in comprehension before you turn and storm away with your agitation almost rising off your head in the form of steam.

How could she of all people expect you to let your anger go? Why can’t she muster the energy to keep pushing a little longer? Isn’t her grief, rage, and agony loud and chaotic too?

Nevertheless, when you reach the door and try to leave the dungeon, the door opens and guards barge in.

There’s no one else in this dungeon for them to take so even if you're pissed off at Baela, you stop in your tracks and turn on your heels to watch them open her cell.

“What are you doing?” You probe with curiosity and worry that form quickly.

When neither of the men answers, you march over to the man yanking Baela out of her cell, and demand an answer. “Where are you taking Lady Baela? Answer me!”

The guard looks at you from the corner of his eyes and deadpans. “The King wants to see her in the courtyard.”

What? What for?

These men won’t answer you, they hardly wanted to answer your previous question, so you turn swiftly and storm past them to reach the courtyard first. That’s when you come to a stop though and get riddled with disgust when the stench of rotting flesh hits your nose before you’re shocked to see that Sunfyre is no longer struggling to stay alive. He’s dead, and Aegon…when you let yourself take him in you notice that his eyes are red and puffy, but they're also mixed with anger.

“What do you want from Baela?” You demand him and struggle to hold his gaze.

“So you do come out of your chambers?” Aegon remarks and doesn’t hold amusement or any kind of teasing glint, his gaze remains narrowed and locked on you. “You’ll see.”

You huff and stomp toward him to keep pressing him, but his sad attempt at a Kingsguard puts themselves in between him and you, leaving only glares to be passed and challenged until Baela is brought forth.

“Sunfyre is dead,” Aegon blurts but there’s a hint of…sadness in his voice and why wouldn’t there be? No matter what you feel about Aegon, he was still a dragonrider and his bond with his dragon was like yours with Astraea, so it’s easy to tell why he expresses such sadness.

“And it’s because of you and your damned dragon,” Aegon hisses and has the guards move aside to let him pass and drag his wooden chair toward Baela. “So it’s good your dragon paid the price, but now you must pay it too.”

“No,” you interrupt him and take a big step forward to try and get close, but a guard once again steps in between and blocks you away from Aegon with his arm.

“I renounced my betrothed to be yours. I am going to be your willing wife once we return to King’s Landing,” you remind him with distress building in your voice. “Which means that our sins have been pardoned, you cannot kill her. Spare her life.”

Aegon tilts his head and shakes it. “No. I already spared your brother's life. He’s a threat to my claim, but I spared him because you and I will marry. That was the only condition you could be granted. No more. She will die for what she did,” he spats in return and then snaps his gaze to the guards holding Baela so they can drag her to the block.

“Aegon!” You exclaim and look at him with desperation. The same desperation you used when your mother was in a similar position. “Please!”

“<I love you.>”.

You gasp and try to move toward Baela now that you have free range, but the guard that had kept you from Aegon wraps his arms around your waist to hold you back, making those words that just echoed in your head get louder, and making the image of her, your mother start forming in your mind and threaten to paralyze you.

“<I love you.>”.

No. No, no, go away. Go away…

“Aegon, please,” you whisper and look over at him with tears that are quick to form in your eyes. “She’s still your cousin. She…she…” you trail off as the image of your mother appears before you in the same way before she died, so you’re forcefully ripped away from the current moment and return to that night.

You see her as clear as day all over again. You see her in front of Sunfyre.

You want to save her, but you can’t. Once again you’re useless in the situation and you watch as the fire bathes her all over again, ripping her away from you.

“NOO!” You bellow and reach out for her, but the moment you blink you’re brought back to reality and Baela is now taking your mother's place.

“The princess is right about sparing Lady Baela’s life,” the new maester interjects and glances at you with concern. “She is still a Velaryon, daughter to Lady Laena, and granddaughter to Lord Corlys. If you kill her he might turn his fleet against you and trap you here. There has been no word about him declaring war so it’s safe to assume you can negotiate a deal but only if his remaining kin are left alive.”

You keep your eyes on Aegon to wait and watch him ponder the decision laid before him while Baela’s head remains on the chopping block.

“Aegon,” you mumble but don’t gain his attention. He keeps his eyes averted and remains silent until he comes up with his answer.

“Alright then. Send a letter to the Sea Snake’s bastard…the living one,” he snickers and steals a glance at you so you know he’s taunting you. “Tell him if he doesn’t present himself in a fortnight to pay homage to his rightful liege, his niece Lady Baela will die.”

The maester bows and scurries off, whilst the guards pull Baela to her feet and without needing to be told, they start dragging her back where they had brought her from, letting you draw out a deep relieved breath, and part away from the guard still holding you back to get close to Baela.

Albeit it’s when you’re near her that she drags her eyes toward you and mutters. “I did not need your help nor did this change my mind about you.”

You blink in disbelief and draw in a shaky breath of shock before you push your nose up in the air and nod stiffly because this hasn’t changed your mind about what you need to do. “If that’s what you want I won’t beg for your attention.”

You let out a deep breath and watch her get taken away with your jaw clenched, and your eyes cloudy with tears unaware of the fact that that would be the last time you would see her. Not forever, but while you waited for a response you were restricted from going down to the dungeons—so much for free range. So you were left waiting in your quarters for days and days for any response whether it was a direct attack or a letter.

Then again, you did not mind being still and waiting because it let you plan what you wanted to do to get rid of Aegon once and for all. Besides, you weren't desperate to look for some way to talk to Baela either. Perhaps you should’ve snuck your way down to the dungeons and made peace with her—it’s what your mother and Jacaerys would have told you to do, but you heard what she said, and you were being honest in what you said too, so you kept your word while you were waiting in your solitude and just planned and let yourself get lost in your thoughts again and again.

That is until finally word came from Kings Landing that your grandfather Lord Corlys had declared his loyalty to Aegon, and that he was pardoned and accepted back in the Small Council after declaring his allegiance to the Broken King. In turn, Baela was spared from her fate and finally brought out from the dark dungeon, but not spared from chains. She would be kept in chains until you reached Kings Landing, which won’t be long now because at long last, “we’re going home”, left Aegon’s lips.

Thus finally after weeks, you were allowed to leave the grey walls and haunting halls of Dragonstone. Yet what was leaving Dragonstone really worth when every waking hour, with every step you take, and every breath you breathe you’re reminded of her, your mother, and her death.

The memory of her death is like a never-ending loop that the sight of the sea can’t wash away while you’re on your way back to King's Landing. Which is such a shame because you really love the sea...

“You know,” you say to Aegon after you debated long and hard if you wanted to speak to him or not—“it was the Smallfolk who killed all the dragons. They’re the ones to blame for not letting you have access to a new dragon.”

Aegon watches the waves splitting against the ship while you watch the clouds with a hint of a smirk.

“I know,” Aegon mutters.

“We have to respond to their treason and rebellion with fire,” you share as you catch a large, winged shadow form in the clouds. “We have to remind them that there are consequences to their actions and that we are still the crown and that they are sheep. Even if they did defy the opposing side.”

Aegon doesn’t respond right away, he stays quiet and continues to watch the way the waves part.

“What would you have me do?” Aegon almost snaps at you, but he manages to keep his composure and just sounds annoyed.

“Let me rain fire on them,” you share the plan you’ve been brewing for a while. “Not the entire city, just a section of it so they remember we hold the power. That they have to look up at us. We are not their equal.”

Aegon slowly diverts his eyes away from the waves and starts to turn his head to look at you, but before he can take a glance the sound of clicking coming from above steals his attention before a roar that rattles the wooden boards and shakes the water's surface blasts from the clouds.

“Why should I trust you not turning against me when you’re on your dragon?” He asks the right question as claws and a purple-scaled belly break the clouds as Astraea reveals only a part of herself first before she dives down in front of the running ship and quickly yet shakily swoops up to the air with a large fish caught in her claws.

“Because,” you say with a faint smile as you watch your dragon go back to hiding in the clouds. “You have my brother's life in your hands and I will do anything to keep my last remaining brother alive.”

You finally drop your eyes to look down at Aegon and await his response, knowing that he knows that if he doesn’t act, people will view him as weak and he doesn’t want people to keep thinking that about him. Not anymore because after all that’s happened he’s still alive and the King.

“Fine. Do it,” Aegon gives in, causing a wicked smirk to break on your lips.

——

“Who is it that you wanted to be?”

A peaceful tranquility can almost be felt radiating from Shae’s Manse as the brisk wind running over King’s Landing almost seems to carry it in between its gusts that hit you while you sit upon your dragon; causing your long sleeves designed like dragon wings, and the end of your crimson dipped skirt to blow behind you while your shining silver chain head peace that falls over your face like a veil, sings as the wind makes the silver chains hit each other lightly.

“Besides wanting to be a sailor, or an explorer, or a singer, I wanted to be Queen; a kind one like my great, great grandmother Queen Alyssane, and my ancestor Queen Rhaenys.”

You’ve had time to think about what you wanted to do and yes there were moments in time when you hesitated and wanted to back off from your plan for the sake of the innocent lives that had to do with running your mother out of town. However, just as your plans fire is going to die out, the sparks of anger, revenge, and agony keep it alive because that same mother returns to haunt your thoughts, and then you can’t stand the thought of the people’s betrayal going unpunished.

Besides, they had their chance and they wasted it. They chose fear, so you will give them something to fear.

“<Forward.>” You command Astraea in Valyrian and nudge the handles down regardless of your verbal command. All without changing a single expression on your face. Even if you're full of rage, your exhaustion, grief, and agony keep their claim on your face, exposing someone who looks empty and tired of everything life has thrown at them, even something as small as expressing emotion.

Then again you are tired. You’re tired of it all. You just want silence and a moment of stillness and where else can you find it but here? In this current moment as Astraea flies past the wall and brings the Smallfolk a moment of darkness as her shadow casts over the streets, homes, and busybodies.

However, the darkness doesn’t scare them right away because when they look up they see The Adventurous Astraea, a dragon known as tolerant to people, protective and kind to those you love, and obedient to her rider. So they look away from the purple beast. Some welcome the dragon as they start to feel immediately safer due to all the criminal activity that has ravished the city. However, they should have known. They should have expected consequences for their crimes.

No bad deed goes unpunished and you are here now for justice. You are your mother and Joffrey’s revenge.

You are their terror.

“Dracarys,” you sneer and lift your chin slightly to look down at the people with a change in your gaze, going from an exhausted and empty look to a pierced glare reflecting the roaring fire as it falls from Astraea’s mouth and rains down on the people.

There’s no hesitation, no pause, or a small taste of justice. The cries and screams don’t reach your heart because now it’s impenetrable. Like a nasty and quick plague, the fire keeps unfolding over the streets of Shae’s Manse, causing that beautiful tranquility that once traveled past the city walls to erupt into an uproar of chaos.

Some people that were lucky to escape the flames that ate away at everything and everyone in its way, found salvation in Flea Bottom. However, the same can’t be said for the people who try to escape toward Rhaeny’s Hill because you and Astraea turn your terror toward it.

If only the Dragonpit had been intact because people could be safe and untouched by the fire in there, but alas, it was the Smallfolk who caused the Dragonpit to fall when they killed those dragons. It was their own stupidity that destroyed their biggest means of salvation because Astraea doesn’t put it up in flames, you make sure to leave it untouched by any flames.

When you fly past what was once the city’s greatest wonder, you continue to spread your terror with more vigor. With more rage and pure visceral hate because if it wasn’t for them your mother would have never fled King’s Landing! She wouldn’t have fallen in Aegon’s clutches! And she would still be alive!

But no, they ran her out of her home. They killed your brother Joffrey and took the person you loved the most. Them! They did it! Every single filthy person below was the cause of your mother's death. They robbed you of your hope, joy, and light and left you in the dark void where all you have is your pain that throbs in the same way your heart beats. And with every single ba-dum, there's a reminder of what you lost and the pain it brings. And with every other beat the pain and the hate that was already so overwhelming spreads.

How much more of it can you handle? You don’t want to hurt, but you can’t forget. The pain is constant and the memory is haunting and loud! You just want it to stop!

“Please, please, please,” you beg in your mind and close your eyes, but Sunfyre ripping your mother apart flashes in your mind. You see her dying over and over again and it all grows louder.

The cries and pleas coming from below grow tenfold, adding the volume in your head. The fire's constant roar heightens too and it all starts to swirl in your head until you let out a blood-curdling scream that finally brings silence.

The fire that you rain doesn’t come to a stop, you continue to spread it as you fly down the Street of Seeds, but everything is quiet. There’s a peace in the chaos that you alone relish in until finally you hit Cobble Square and have Astraea finally stop, letting you tune into the noise once again.

However, rather than turning your dragon around and flying toward the Red Keep, you descend your dragon and land on Cobble Square to watch the beauty of the flames as they rise toward the sky, and the thick smoke pollutes the air. Furthermore in that moment as you stand there taking it all in, a swarm of people who were unscathed, and people who were caught on fire run toward you, but not to seek your attention nor is it because they’re full of wonder by your appearance. The people ran past you in terror. They don’t try to touch you or ask for a simple greeting, they shove past you because they’re terrified.

And that's all you wanted, but not all you see. You also see your mother standing in the middle of the chaos that runs at you; she glows in the chaos and outshines the bright flames, but doesn’t carry any notable emotion. She just watches you and you watch her as if telling her that this is all for her.

After a lingering minute of the world just being about her illusion and you, you decide to turn away and mount your dragon to fly to the Red Keep. This time when you land, people don’t run, nor do they look at you with fear. You find horror in the eyes of the survivors like Alicent, Lord Borros, Lord Larys, and your grandfather Lord Corlys as they stand in the courtyard after having greeted their King.

Your grandfather tries to find the answer in your eyes, but when he finds your gaze past your veil of chains he sees a glossy yet narrowed and burning gaze. That girl he was looking for is gone; he sees that when you stop by him, but that's not all because he’s the only one who looks deeper than the surface. Everyone else sees a mad woman who couldn’t be stopped because it was the King himself who allowed the terror to happen.

“Welcome home, Princess. It’s good to see you again.” Your grandfather breaks his stunned silence, making you slowly find his gaze and neither smile nor frown. Your gaze remains glossy and hardened and keeps holding that fiery behind them that tells him without a need for words that there’s nothing good about being back.

“Did they find the guilty party for the uprising?” You ask bluntly without returning his warmth despite the fire you hold. “I want to see them”

Your grandfather sighs and hesitates before he nods. “Yes, but,” he pauses. “The King wants to wait until after the wedding to pass judgment on the guilty. He is eager…” he trails off and you avert your gaze and nod stiffly before you walk without bothering to greet anyone else even though Lord Borros had restored peace to the city, and Alicent couldn’t keep her eyes off you, almost like she wanted to talk to you but also couldn’t bring herself to do it, so instead she just stands there watching you until you completely disappear inside and aren't seen again. Not like before.

Before you were spotted in the halls of the Red Keep frequently. When you were young it always varied whether you were alone or accompanied, but you truly lived up to the name they had given you, “The Golden Girl.” It was always such a delight for so many to see you. And when you got older, when you returned from the North, people often sought out a mere glimpse of your appearance as you had grown more glorious, and it’s not like you didn’t give them a reason not to seek you out, because oh, you did. You intrigued them more with the warmth that flowed from you and embraced their presence like the sun embraced everyone it saw.

Now no one sought you out, you were not a glorious presence riddled with warmth. You would be like a dark cloud bringing in a storm that everyone wants gone and wants to avoid; if you would get out of your quarters that is, but you didn’t. You stayed inside your quarters as if locked inside, making everyone believe you felt safer and more comfortable within your four walls, but that was far from the truth. You’re miserable. You can hardly sleep or stand being awake. You hardly eat and don’t do anything you used to like. You hardly see your children. You’re just there wallowing in everything that torments you.

When the day of the wedding rolls around (which was only two days after you returned) you did manage to get in a few winks of sleep and when you woke up there he was, your husband, your Aemond. He’s still asleep with his long blond-silver hair in a braid, and his calm breaths making his chest and nostrils rise and fall ever so gently.

He honestly looks like a beautiful piece of artwork that you can admire for hours, but alas, you want to be that much closer to him so you raise your hand right from under you and reach out for his cheek to stroke it.

Yet, when your hand is about to make contact with his flesh you're abruptly reminded that no one is lying beside you, and Aemond is in fact dead. You wake up alone in a cold room looking at an empty space, remembering, like a slap to the face, that today is your wedding to the man you hate.

You could jump out of your balcony and avoid the entire thing, but they’re all now depending on you, aren’t they? Everyone that died? They depend on you to try and get your mother's own blood on her rightful throne. You can feel the pressure of their haunting hands holding you up, pushing you to keep fighting another day and walk down that aisle to play your part in this war still kept alive by sparks and people fanning the flames.

Thus you let the army of women get you ready. You drape on your heavy ivory wedding gown dipped in crimson red, and hide your grieving and hardened face behind a crystal-littered veil before you finally drag your feet out of your quarters.

This time around your wedding isn’t private nor is it done under Valyrian traditions like when Aemond and you married on that hill with no one but your dragons, Helaena, his mother, and Aegon. The sun isn’t out, and the sea isn’t accompanying you either, snow graces Kings Landing as it gently falls from the sky, and hundreds pairs of eyes are forced to be your witness to show the people that at long last the Targaryen family had mended their differences and rejoined their forces as one.

War will surely end now, and peace will finally return to the realm!

That’s all they want, that’s all they care about. They don’t care about Aegon marrying you, they stopped caring about you the moment you turned your dragon against them, so they don’t care if you look miserable. Not even the highborn Lords that stand nearby care that you never lift your head off the ground throughout the ceremony done under the eyes of the Seven. They just care about finally reeling you in and locking you away to bring an end to the war (they started).

The only people who care are Cregan who is too far to do anything to stop the wedding, and you, but they can’t hear you screaming and crying because you suffer quietly and act like the cooperating princess. That’s what you let Aegon see when he drapes his cloak on your back to signify that you’re at last his, cooperation and emptiness, and that’s what you continue to show him when he lifts the veil off your face. However, he ignores that as he's eager to finally know the taste of your lips.

“You truly are radiant today,” he says with a faint smirk, making you offer him a soft scoff as a response before you stand to your given height after having to crouch to his level, causing the veil to slip over on your face as you turn away from him to let the ceremony continue to the second portion; your coronation.

However, as much as you dreamt and as excited as you once were to hear those glorious words directed at you. Now you simply tune them out and don’t even think about smiling or mustering any ounce of pride when the time comes for the crown to be placed upon your veiled-covered head.

Albeit you also don’t look like there’s no soul inside your body. When you turn to face the crowd of people, your eyebrows are slightly furrowed, the corner of your lips droop with your faint scowl, and the crystal fragments on your veil cascade down so perfectly that it looks like there’s tears rolling down your cheeks, leading the audience to see you as some ethereal beauty; like those tapestries and statues of beautiful weeping gods. However, it’s all a trick of the bright white light reflecting through the windows of the Great Sept, because the mist in your eyes reflects the flames of ferocity still very much alive inside.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

It’s a good thing Aegon can’t get his cock up anymore or else the night would be unpleasant and traumatizing. And it was almost traumatizing, but when it came to the bedding ceremony he couldn’t make it work, no matter the hunger in his eyes, so he began to drink and sent you off after he told you to swear that you wouldn’t tell a soul what happened.

But who could you tell? Baela? She doesn’t talk to you even though she’s not living in a cell anymore.

Vanessa? Sure, but the conversation will get a couple of laughs before it’s over and done with.

Rhaena? She’s still in the Eyrie and by the time she responds your amusement would have died down, so no there’s no one you could have actually told, he’s made sure of that…

Nevertheless, it’s a good thing the bedding ceremony didn’t last—or start to begin with because now you can put all your focus on the significant matter at hand.

“Ser Cane!” You greet excitedly as you watch him taking his hood off as he’s climbing up the steps of the Red Keep.

“Your Grace,” he responds with a hint of warmth in his otherwise nonchalant voice. “Look at you,” he muses and when he finally reaches you on top of the staircase he bows before he puts his arms out. “I hope it was a safe delivery.”

You avert your gaze and respond quietly. “It was a rather stressful one but the three of us are alive so it was safe.”

Your sworn protector sighs and drops one arm back to his side while he lets the other one hover over your shoulder for a second before he lets it fall gently. “My deepest condolences about your loss, my Queen.”

You blink repeatedly and feel your eyes sting at the weight of his words because you can hear that he actually means what he says, but you refuse to cry so you just take a deep breath and look up at him with a thankful smile. “Thank you Ser…was your trip here pleasant?”

Ser Cane drops his hand and shrugs. “As good as it gets.”

You scoff softly in response before you point your head inside. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.”

Without any protest or attempt to add anything right there on the staircase where you have prying eyes, Ser Cane follows you inside to a secluded corner barely touched by nearby candlelight.

“How was the wedding?” Ser Cane asks with a hint of amusement.

“Pft,” you blow out and turn around on your heels with a smirk. “I got to wear beautiful gowns, and I now own beautiful crowns so I’ll say it was pleasant.”

Ser Cane scoffs and when you’re facing each other under the faint candlelight you begin to fiddle with your rings and probe. “Is Cregan okay? Safe?”

“He was worried,” Ser Cane admits as he watches your downcasted gaze. “He almost went mad with worry, but when we heard word of your wellbeing he calmed down. I’m sure he would be here in a heartbeat given the chance, but he’s keeping his head up and doing his job. He’s waiting on his army, they should reach him soon.”

Your lips fall as you nod gently in comprehension and take it all in without letting the news ache your heart too much. You feel it get tugged at as you imagine what Cregan might be feeling and thinking after you had finally gotten your chance to start your long-awaited story together, but he can’t take up all your thoughts nor can you let him torment you too harshly because there’s still a sliver of hope. If he gives you one more chance then there will be no more obstacles after this.

“How did he take the news about me being engaged to Aegon?” You have to ask as that specific thought has been killing you since he couldn’t respond back with a letter of his thoughts on the matter.

“I don’t know,” Ser Cane admits with a sigh. “I’m sorry, your Grace. He read the letter in his private quarters and when he came out, well…you know how he is. Cool as ice.”

The corner of your lips twitch up and you nod in agreement before you ask one more thing. “You didn’t tell him why you left, did you?”

Ser Cane scoffs. “Of course not. Who do you take me for?”

You smile and tilt your head to the side. “I am not doubting you Ser, I just know that if he had asked, you wouldn’t have denied him an answer. You’re respectful that way.”

Ser Cane pulls something out of his satchel that’s hidden behind his cloak and then shakes his head. “Not with your personal matters, My Queen,” he says with a small proud smile that stays on his face as he hands you a small flask wrapped with parchment paper.

Before you pull the paper off the flask though, you offer him a flustered smile and then proceed to take the paper off to read the words it holds.

“You are going down the right path.

I will see you soon enough. Until then.

-Alys”

You smile softly and with admiration, before you hand the letter to Ser Cane so he can put it away while you lift your hand to look at the slow-acting poison you asked Alys to concoct for you.

“Great. Now I hope you’re able to stand on your feet for a while longer, Ser because we have work to do,” you let him know with a smug hint in your tone of voice as you hand him the flask so he can keep it hidden for you in his satchel for now.

“Of course, I can,” he assures you, making you flash him a smirk before you depart from your dimly lit corner and return to your quarters, but not to stay there. You take the hidden passage hidden within the walls of your quarters and guide Ser Cane down corridors festered with rats and only lit by the torch that you both hold in your hands.

There are many times when your sworn protector wants to question where you’re leading him, but he trusts you so follows you blindly until finally, you hit a stone wall that holds a doorknob.

“Here,” you point your chin to the doorknob on the wall.

“Are you sure?” Ser Cane asks for your safety.

You hum in agreement and take his torch before you step aside to let him open the door.

Once the light from inside the room casts outside you hang the torches on the wall, and let Ser Cane take the lead to the mysterious room.

“Who goes there?” A voice from inside carries out, but doesn’t get answered as Ser Cane stomps in, nor when you strut behind him and get surrounded by the brighter room. You let the sight of your presence answer the question your grandfather, Baela, and Lord Larys ask themselves.

“Granddaughter,” your grandfather gasps as he watches you quietly stride toward the chair at the end of the table.

“Queen,” Ser Cane corrects him as he closes the secret door. “She’s your Queen.”

“Your Grace,” your grandfather corrects himself whilst Lord Larys immediately greets you with the right title and Baela stays quiet.

Albeit you ignore the greetings so it doesn’t matter. You just take a seat on the chair that steals all of the attention of the room, and sit up straight with your nose in the air and a smirk dancing on your lips.

“Sit my Lords and Lady, we have a coup to plan.”

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Ser Cane the father that stepped up

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[tojisun]

giggling and kicking my legs thinking about tf141 finding out that ‘el sin nombre’ has a pretty little girlfriend and when they finally locate her, they’re stumped at the realization that it was the cute little barista who was so helpful and kind to them, especially after finding out that they don’t speak much spanish.

alejandro only rolls his eyes when they bring you in for questioning. “leave it to valeria to have a controversially younger girlfriend.”

all you do is smile prettily at them and stubbornly remained tight-lipped.

loyal as hell too, ghost thinks to himself with a sigh.

[estellesdoll]

31 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 | 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

⊹. 𝒅𝒂𝒚 17 : 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𖧧 . ָ࣪    ִֶָ

𓄹 ࣪.𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𓄹 ࣪.𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𓄹 ࣪.𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𓄹 ࣪.𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : Chris doesn’t think he’s good enough for you, but you’re determined to show him that his imperfections are what make him perfect for you.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 : bf!chris s. x f!reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : insecurty, self-doubt, vulnerability, low self-esteem

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 : 2.5k

Chris had always been sunshine personified—bright, warm, and effortlessly comforting. From the very start of your relationship, he made it easy to love him. His dimples, his humor, the way he could light up any room with just a goofy grin.

You’d always thought he was perfect, even if he didn’t always believe it himself.

But over the last few weeks, that light had dimmed.

It started small. Missed texts here, an unusually quiet dinner there. Chris, who normally couldn’t stop talking about whatever was on his mind, had grown reserved, almost distant.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing. He was busy. Stressed, maybe. But the distance didn’t go away, and your heart ached with the growing gap between you.

By the third week, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to know what was wrong.

──・୨୧・ ──

It was a Friday night, and Chris had invited you over for dinner. You’d spent the day psyching yourself up for the conversation, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering him.

Every glance at your phone sent a flicker of unease through your chest—texts from him were shorter, the conversations colder. You knew something was wrong, and tonight, you were going to find out.

When you arrived, he greeted you with his usual smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something in his posture—shoulders slightly slouched, eyes clouded—that you couldn’t ignore.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in to kiss your cheek, but his lips lingered, as if he was searching for something. His arms were stiff around you, and he pulled away almost too quickly.

“Glad you’re here,” he added, his voice a little too low. His smile felt rehearsed, like he was going through the motions. That wasn’t like him.

“Me too,” you replied, studying him closely. He looked tired—his hair was slightly messier than usual, and there was a tension in his shoulders that you couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t the usual Chris you knew, the one who always seemed to carry a spark with him. He was dimmed, like a candle flickering in the wind.

Dinner was quiet, punctuated only by small talk that felt forced on both ends. Normally, being with Chris was easy, like slipping into your favorite sweater. But tonight, the silence between you was heavy, as if every word was an effort neither of you was sure how to make.

You couldn’t help but notice how much he seemed to be pulling away, his eyes distant, his laughter more strained than usual.

You watched him carefully, noticing the subtle changes—the way he’d push his food around his plate, as if trying to escape from his own thoughts. You knew him well enough to know when something was off, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was.

You hated the way the air between you had thickened, the space between you expanding with each passing second.

By the time you were sitting on his couch with a movie playing in the background, the air felt too thick to breathe.

You glanced at him, the side of his face cast in the soft glow of the screen. His body was turned slightly away from you, and there was something so painfully distant in his stillness.

You wanted to reach out, to touch him, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the fear that he didn’t want you to. Or maybe it was the uncertainty of not knowing who he was right now.

The silence, which was usually comforting and companionable, now felt suffocating. It was a silence that spoke volumes, filled with unspoken words and thoughts too tangled to be unraveled. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, not knowing if you should jump or wait.

“Chris,” you said softly, your voice breaking through the quiet hum of the movie. You turned to face him, meeting his eyes for the first time all evening. He flinched slightly at the sound of your voice, and you instantly regretted not speaking sooner.

But it was time. You had to know what was going on.

“What’s going on?” you asked gently, your voice careful but steady.

He glanced at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been... distant lately. Quieter. And I feel like I’ve done something wrong, but I don’t know what.” Your heart was in your throat now, the weight of those words pressing down on you, but you pushed through. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t.

His eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly, like he was trying to convince himself more than you. “No. No, it’s not you.”

“Then what is it?” you pressed, your voice gentle but firm. “Because something’s bothering you, and I don’t know how to fix it if you won’t talk to me.”

Chris hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands. He fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, a clear sign that he was nervous. His discomfort was palpable, and the longer he took to answer, the more you could feel the space between you growing.

It wasn’t just physical space anymore—it was emotional, and it felt like a chasm you weren’t sure how to cross.

“It’s nothing,” he said finally, but the words felt hollow, empty in a way that didn’t sit right. It wasn’t the Chris you knew. This wasn’t the guy who’d smile through anything. The one who would always be able to pull you from any dark place with nothing but his presence. This wasn’t him.

“Chris.” You reached out, covering his hands with yours. You needed him to know that whatever it was, you were in this together. “Please. Just tell me what’s going on.”

He exhaled sharply, leaning back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and you started to wonder if he ever would.

The silence stretched, and the uncertainty gnawed at your insides. It felt like you were waiting for him to let you in, to show you what was hiding behind those walls he’d built around himself. But then, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t think I’m good enough for you.”

The words were so soft you almost didn’t hear them. They struck you like a thunderbolt, shattering everything you thought you knew about him.

“What?” you breathed, leaning in closer, trying to understand. His gaze was fixed on his hands, as if he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes.

He looked up at you, his blue eyes filled with a vulnerability that made your chest ache. “You’re amazing. You’re smart, beautiful, funny... you could have anyone you wanted. And I’m just... me. I don’t know how I got lucky enough to have you, but sometimes it feels like it’s only a matter of time before you figure out I’m not enough.”

You stared at him, stunned. Chris had always been the confident one, the guy who could charm his way through any situation. He was the life of every party, the one who made everyone laugh, the one who never hesitated to speak his mind.

But hearing him speak like this, seeing him wrestle with doubt in a way you never thought possible—it broke your heart. The man who had always been the one to hold you up now seemed to be crumbling right before your eyes.

“Chris,” you said softly, scooting closer to him, your voice a balm to the rawness in his tone. “Why would you think that?”

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze as if he could hide from his own thoughts. “I don’t know. It’s just... I see you, and I see everything you deserve. And I don’t feel like I measure up.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, unwilling to let him see how deeply his words had affected you.

You didn’t want him to think his self-doubt was something you couldn’t handle. You knew this was more than just about you. It was about him, and the way he saw himself. You didn’t want him to be so hard on himself anymore.

“Chris, listen to me. You are more than enough. You’ve always been enough.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not saying it because I have to,” you said firmly, holding his hands tightly in yours, your voice steady. “I’m saying it because it’s true. You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.

You make me laugh when I’ve had the worst day, you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better, and you love me in a way no one else ever has. You make me feel seen. How could I ever feel like I deserve more than that?”

Chris’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes glistening, a battle of emotions flickering across his face. The realization that you saw him as he truly was—the good and the flaws, the imperfect and the beautiful—seemed to melt some of the walls he had built around himself.

“I don’t want anyone else,” you continued. “I want you. All of you. Even the parts you think aren’t good enough.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The raw honesty in your words hung in the air, settling between you like a blanket of reassurance.

Then, slowly, he reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, his touch grounding you both. “I love you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion, more vulnerable than you had ever heard it.

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words laced with an intensity that made the world feel right again. You leaned in to kiss him softly, gently, as though this moment might be the first of many steps toward healing.

The kiss was everything—soft, slow, and filled with the weight of the love you had for each other. It was more than just physical—it was a promise. A promise that no matter how hard things got, you would fight for him. You would fight for both of you.

──・୨୧・ ──

The conversation didn’t magically fix everything. Insecurity isn’t something that disappears overnight. But it was a start, and sometimes, a start was all you needed.

Over the next few weeks, Chris began to open up more. He told you about the little doubts that had been eating away at him—the fears he hadn’t even realized he was carrying.

There were long nights where he would talk about his childhood, about moments that had shaped the person he was now. He talked about failures, insecurities, and things he never had the words for until now.

You listened, patiently, understanding that this wasn’t just about comforting him—it was about knowing him. The real him. The vulnerable, imperfect him that he was learning to trust you with.

And you, in turn, made it your mission to remind him every day how much he meant to you. Each day, you found new ways to show him that his worth wasn’t tied to how much he gave or how perfect he was. He was enough, just as he was.

You’d leave sticky notes on his bathroom mirror with affirmations, reminding him of how incredible he was.

Small, thoughtful gestures—like surprising him with his favorite snacks or planning spontaneous dates—became your way of reinforcing your love for him, no matter what.

One evening, after a particularly tough day for him, you decided to surprise Chris with a little reminder of how much he meant to you.

You set up a cozy corner in his living room with fairy lights, blankets, and his favorite movie queued up. When he walked in, his eyes softened at the sight of the space you had prepared for him.

"What's all this?" he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"I thought we could have a night to just relax," you said, leading him over to the couch. "I know things have been hard lately, and I just want you to know that no matter what you're going through, I'm here with you. You don't have to go through it alone."

Chris sat down beside you, his shoulders less tense than usual, his smile genuine this time. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I don’t deserve you, but I'm so grateful for you."

"You deserve all the good things life has to offer," you replied, squeezing his hand gently. "And you’ve always been enough. I’m lucky to be with you."

The night passed in comfortable silence as the two of you settled into the warmth of each other’s presence. You both needed this time, to be together without any pressure, just supporting each other in the way that only you could.

Weeks turned into months, and Chris slowly began to find his way back to himself. There were still moments of doubt, times when he’d struggle with his insecurities, but the difference was that now, he wasn’t afraid to let you in. He knew that no matter how imperfect he thought he was, you loved him—not for what he did or what he thought he should be, but for who he truly was. And that was more than enough.

In turn, you began to learn more about your own strengths.

Loving someone like Chris, especially when he was struggling, wasn’t always easy, but it taught you patience, understanding, and the power of being there for someone.

You learned that love wasn’t just about the good times, but about showing up for each other when things weren’t perfect—about embracing the imperfections and making them part of the beautiful picture you were building together.

And as the days passed, you both found a deeper connection. Chris’s confidence grew, not because he was suddenly flawless, but because he realized he didn’t have to be perfect to be loved. He didn’t have to hide the parts of himself he thought were weak. With you by his side, he began to embrace his flaws as part of what made him uniquely him.

It wasn’t always easy, but it was real. And that was enough for both of you.

──・୨୧・ ──

One evening, months after the first heart-to-heart conversation, you and Chris sat on the couch together, laughing at an inside joke only the two of you shared.

He looked over at you, his dimples deepening with his smile, and for the first time in a long while, you saw the old spark in his eyes—the one that had drawn you to him in the first place.

This was the real Chris, the one who was no longer afraid to show his vulnerability, his imperfections, and his love.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice sincere, as he leaned in to kiss you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smiled back, cupping his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. “I’ll always be here, Chris. For all of you.”

And in that moment, with the lights dimmed and the world outside forgotten, you knew that no matter what the future held, you had found something truly special.

Something imperfect, but perfect in its own way. And that was more than enough.

𓄹 ࣪. like, reblog 𑁍 comment

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@estellesdoll

[kogglyuffs]

umitober 2024 day 1 - 30

[alienmiilk]

kuronatober

[sadgirl-31]

Info

⚠️tw⚠️

Hi, I am new here and was hoping to make some friends and learn some tips and tricks :)

About me:

I am 21 years old who struggles with ana. I have been the same weight for the last four years. I started this blog on 09/12/24 in hope to find help on how to finally reach my goal!

My account name 'Annabel lee' is based off a poem by my favourite author Edgar Allan Poe.

Stats :

Height: 5 ft 1 / 156 cm

CW: 102 lbs / 46.26 kgs

1 GW: 98 lbs / 44 kgs

2 GW: 95 lbs / 43 kgs

Once i've reached my goal I will start a new one!

About my page:

I will post and reblog content that I relate to. If this upsets you please block instead of reporting me!

Feel free to message anytime. I need more mutuals so I will follow account back.

Thank you.

[pieflavoredartz]

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HAPPY HALLOWEENIE EVERYONEE ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

[friendship-ditch]

Whumptober Day 31 - Asking for Help

Platonic Aragorn x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Aragorn hits his head and has no choice but to ask the nearest person for help.

Warnings/Notes: I'M DONE! WHUMPTOBER COMPLETED HELL YEAHHHH

Word Count: 1356

 Aragorn had never been the best at taking care of himself. Ever. It was always ‘make sure everyone else is alright,’ then tend to his own wounds. More often than not this ended up with him in a worse situation than before; see: ignoring injuries until they get infected, nearly bleeding to death, and about 25 other accounts.

  That was the case once more.

  He didn’t remember hitting his head too hard in the skirmish in the woods… but apparently he had. He’d been flanked by orcs unexpectedly and upon realizing there was no way he could kill them all, took the risk and jumped into the river.

  Perhaps it was there that he hit his head. The water was ferocious, fighting to keep him like quick sand and nearly drowning him in the rough rapids. He would’ve likely drowned had he not managed to kick off a rock and float to shore, but he was rather woozy at the time and still couldn’t recall the exact details.

  All he knew was that he woke up, drenched and cold, on the shore of… somewhere he couldn’t quite recognize.

  The rocks beneath his bleeding head were a foul pillow to his aching body. He felt frozen to the bone, limbs jolting with shivers. He tried to sit up but was overcome by a wave of dizziness so he lowered himself back onto the ground with a grunt. He must’ve hit his head harder than he thought.

  It took a few moments of contemplation, and a lot of pain, but eventually Aragorn managed to sit up. His world spun even faster and he squeezed his eyes shut, lifting a hand to his forehead. It came away slightly stained with blood.

  Eventually Aragorn managed to stand. He was already not the most precise walker due to various wounds to his ankles and legs over the years, but now every step he took was uncalculated and clumsy. He’d be lucky if he made it a mile from the water before collapsing… but what other choice did he have?

  It was either wander in search of shelter and help, or give in and die. The latter wasn’t the most enticing, so he forced himself to walk despite the pain and dizziness. 

  Beneath him the ground changed from gravel and rocks to rough dirt and roots. He had to step carefully. It was a struggle, though. If it were not for the thick woods he was walking through and the stumps he caught himself on, he would be face down once more.

  After an hour or so of wandering Aragorn began to feel just… worse. The injury on his head was pounding as though someone was hammering a nail into his skull. It stopped bleeding long ago but during his trek he managed to stumble and bash it against a tree, starting the bleeding once more. His whole body felt warm, unnaturally warm against the chill of the coming night. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d caught a fever in his weakened state but he tried not to think about it because there was nothing he could do.

  His stomach ached and his limbs felt almost too heavy to move. Every step was a struggle on his trembling legs. 

  Then, something came into view. A house of some sorts… a cabin or a cottage, tucked in a small clearing of the trees. Was he hallucinating? He had to have been. There was no way this sanctuary was so perfectly placed just at the end of his strength. A warm glow emanated from the windows, smoke billowing from the chimney. This had to have been a dream.

  With no other option left Aragorn decided to take the chance.

  You were sitting inside your home, tending the fireplace when there was a strange noise at the door. Some sort of a thumping sound, almost like a knock.

  You’d had quite a few strange visitors during your time in the woods, but nothing could have prepared you for this. When you opened the door, you found a half dead, half conscious man slumped at your feet. For a second you wondered if this was a joke but when you bent beside him, he groaned.

  “Help… please…” Aragorn whispered, voice raspy and hoarse. His eyes were closed and he was just barely hanging on. 

  You stared at him for a moment and in the split second he opened his eyes, he stared at you. And then he was gone, chest softly rising with breaths but whatever strength he had was utterly depleted.

  Aragorn woke up on another hard surface. For a minute he wondered if he dreamt it all and was still lying upon the shore. But it wasn’t rocks under his back… it was solid and flat. He reached a hand to touch it. Wood? 

  His eyes weakly fluttered open, then winced at the light. He felt warm, but no longer excruciatingly warm. It was a comfortable temperature. He was inside, on top of a table.

  There was a cold cloth draped over his forehead and a bandage overtop the deep gash. The smell of herbs was in the air, heavily. Where was he?

  “Hey, easy there.” You watched as he tried to sit up, knowing it was no use to try and keep him down. You planted a hand upon his back and eased him into a sitting position. “You’re okay.”

  Aragorn let out a weak groan as the world faintly spun around him, but it was nothing like before. He rubbed his eyes to clear the blurriness and they fell upon you. He could faintly remember your face. “Who are you?”

  “Y/N.” You replied, taking the cloth from his head and dunking it into a cold bowl of water. Then you laid it across his brow once more, soaking up any escaping droplets with a towel. “Who are you?”

  “I am… Aragorn.” He hesitated on whether to refer to himself as Strider or not, but decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. 

  “Well, Aragorn, I’ll tell you now that I’ve never seen someone with a concussion fight so hard. You weren’t close to dying or anything, but you’re stubborn.”

  He let out a weak laugh at that. “Stubborn? I suppose that’s right…”

  “You were feverishly fighting me, not that you remember… that’s probably a good thing.” You tilted your head. “What happened to you? How in the world did you end up here?”

  Aragorn told you what he could remember of his story of the orcs and the river. It hadn’t occurred to him that you were only getting him to talk to distract him from the horrible pain of removing the bandage from his head, but he cried out when you pulled it off. He stared at you like a dog who was rejected a treat, wary and uneasy, but then settled back down. “Ow…” He rubbed his forehead. It wasn’t bleeding.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  You made a soft humming sound and stepped back, observing your work. The gash on his head had begun to heal pretty well for something so makeshift.

  “How does it look?” Aragorn asked hesitantly, a little embarrassed he had to rely on the help of a stranger, but thankful either way.

  You smiled. “Much better. You’ll be just fine with a little rest… as your medic, I cannot let you leave in this state, by the way. At least stay the night.” 

  Surprised, but not about to disagree, Aragorn returned your smile with one of his own. “If you wish.”

  He had a hearty bowl of stew and then took some medicine to help ease the dizziness, which was almost gone anyway. Afterwards you settled him down on the couch beneath a blanket and ordered him to sleep, claiming it would help him heal faster.

  Aragorn was in no position to argue, nor did he really want to. He was safe, warm, and had gotten the help he needed. It wasn’t often that he put his trust into strangers but you’d only given him reasons to do so, so he let himself drift off in your care.

[iceclew]

Did I accidently write more than just a few lines of dialogue for this scene?... *shyly fumbling with fingers* 🥹👉👈 maybe...

Sorry, I suck at words and this isn't betaread nor properly proofread and I am not native english, I'm very sorry in advance...

full story down below

(Chappel Roan - Love me Anyway)

(Benson Boone - Slow it Down)

"VICE-CAPTAIN!!!!"

The tiny moving plush-like thing in his hand apparently started screaming as well now.

"WHY ALWAYS MEEE!?!?"

What looked like the chibi mini-version of the Defence Force's biggest trump card, struggled to hold on his thumb, kicking around those little feet of his.

"Well, now I'm quite curious abut THAT story..."

"I CAN'T TURN BACK AND I AM T I N Y !!! (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )"

"I see that... How'd you even get in here?"

Tiny #8 stopped fidgeting a bit. Instead two unproportionally big round dark eyes goggled at him. It was undeniably adorable to look at. "Well after THIS happened, I couldn't grab my phone on the table anymore, so I ran around to find someone, but I figured Narumi and Kikoru would very likely take advantage of my situation and do something stupid with me."

"Oh yeah, they definitely would and I get why, honestly."

"So I ran around to find you, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW BIG THE 1st DIVISION IS, WHEN YOU'RE LIKE THIS, OK?! And then I saw the slightly opened window and just crawled in... ༼☯﹏☯༽"

"Wait... you know where my temporary place in the 1st Division is located? Why?"

"....Coincidence? (*ﾟｰﾟ) "

He sighed. "Well just when you think you saw everything...Kafka Hibino enters the stage..."

"SIR, WHAT SHOULD I DO?? WHY ARE THESE THINGS ALWAYS HAPPENING TO ME??"

"you really want me to answer that, bud?", he barely tried to hide the undertone of his voice, which left the small creature on the palm of his hand baffled for a second.

"Wha-? HEY, MEAN!! What are you on about!?"（＞д＜）

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know STOP CHANGING in general, like I told you f.ex.. or maybe stick to your training routine without going OVERBOARD on a regular basis? How 'bout that?"

The big dark round eyes got even bigger with every word spoken.

"Yeah, don't look at me like that, I might coincidently got wind of stuff, you know?"

His unexpectedly open and emotional response threw Kafka off. For a second he forgot about his *tiny* main problem, his mind jumped between confused and worried and he couldn't comprehend with his reaction for now. After some awkward seconds in silence, Hoshina's tone grew significantly calmer, but still sort of off to his usual self-assured expression. "Well at least this time you're actually telling me about stuff that bothers you, huh?"

Silence again. While hanging from the palm of his Vice-Captain's hand Kafka realized something (besides his size) was different. His senses grew more aware of his surroundings to find answers.

"Are... are you drunk, sir?"

Besides the slight scent of alcohol in the air, and the - well quite obvious - bottle of sake on the table, the startled twitch on his face confirmed Kafka's guess was right. Other than the sake the only other thing on the table were some snacks. Another odd thing to Kafka, who was used to see Hoshina's surroundings stuffed with documents, loose papers, books and other work related things.

The silence lingered around them uncomfortably. To Kafka's suprise Hoshina was seemingly struggling with words. A look on his face Kafka couldn't remember seeing before. Now his mind definitely jumped to 'worried'.

Hoshina tried to mimic an insulted face and looked away. "A little tippsy at most... I'm off-duty for tonight.." Besides the slightly blushed nose and cheeks, Kafka now noticed some dark circles under red eyes. "..and despite my gut telling me better, I assumed I probably won't be needed anymore today, and that I could hang loose a little. It's not my Division after all, there's another Captain and Vice-Captain in charge here. So I might as well make use of that chance... Should have known, it would end up that way or another.. " He smiled a bit and Kafkas felt like his heart clenching from the sight. "Although I definitely should have placed my bet on YOU to be the reason for that." He chuckled lightly, while his expressions grew somewhat softer.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"Nah, it's fine. As if I didn't get used to your-"

"I never put much thought to it, but ever since the Defence Force started preparing for the big counter attack on #9 your workload must've at least doubled in the 3rd and 1st Division.. and here I am still taking over the rest of your time as well..."

"Don't like where this is going, officer... You're not starting pitying me, are ya?"

"No I-...I just feel like.. I didn't realize, and there for not appreciated your work enough.." Silence. "And also.." The tiny kaiju had his look glued to the floor in front of him for a while now. "I know you told me to brush it off earlier but,... I truly regret ... not telling you about... #8 n'stuff.. I'm sorry... I'd change that if I could.."

A small plushy-sized Kaiju was gently put back on the ground again. Hoshina scratched his nose for a second, before bending far back to the other side of the room. He grabbed for his smartphone that was burried in piles of carelessly pushed aside documents.

"As I said. You're here now, aren't ya?" When he got his phone he chose to stay laid down on the floor and started typing something on the lightened screen.

A tiny transformed Kafka carefully made his way around and walked up on eye-level with Hoshina's face again. Once again overwhelmed by his current state of being, he let himself fall back on the floor and sat on the ground. "So... what should I do?"

"The first thing WE do is trying to make some calls. But since you seem to be in no life-threatening condition, we might have to wait 'till tomorrow for a first medical examination. If that's the case you'll stay, and I get you down to the lab first thing in the morning."

"Wait!" The tiny Kaiju made a suprisingly far jump right up to Hoshina's chest and pressed the (for him very big) red hang-up button on the screen with both paws. "You're right about that, I won't die this second from being tiny, so we might as well wait for tomorrow."

The questioning look on the opposite's face made a tiny Kafka look away and scratch his neck shyly. "Well, since you're ... I dunno,... I feel like, I can't have you be seen d-dru- .. like this by other officials of the 1st Division, b-because of me..."

A finger poked his forehead, which caused a tiny being like him to fall right back landing on warm soft fabric of Hoshina's shirt.

"Idiot. But you might be right about that."

[noyoudidntbye]

Day 19: birthday! 🎂

[kkeidawrites]

The Teacher

Welcome to Day 5 of Blacktober!

Part 2: Parent Get Together

Various streamers littered the ceiling of the classroom as staff members set up small tables around the room and followed them with tablecloths.

Teachers busied themselves with the festivities, Y/n even played her part putting lemonade in the iced cups. It was going to be a little warm today and the best way to keep cool was some ice cold lemonade.

“Y/n can you bring those drinks over to this table?” Another staff member calls.

“Coming!” Y/n says and picks up the tray of drinks, bringing them over to the table that sat in the middle of the room. The drink tray sat next to the small snack trays.

Y/n looked at the clock above the door and saw the time was 12:54PM. Less than 6 minutes before they started, Y/n hurriedly walked out of the classroom and into the one next door to find the eight toddlers playing with toys. They were all dressed as their favorite animal.

“Okay everyone, one, two, three, eyes on me!” Clapping her hands, Y/n crouched down to the children’s level as all eight boys and girls came running up to her.

Megumi is in the front row, wearing a dog costume with the a hoodie and a grin on his face and Y/n smiles at him and the other children behind him.

“In just a few minutes we’re going to go and meet everyone’s mom and dad, now I just need you to be on your best behavior and have fun!”

The children all cheer and go back to playing. Y/n chuckles and stands back up. She turns her head to see some of the parents already begin to start crowding around in the hallway.

Making her way to the front of the crowd, Y/n gives them a large smile and folds her hands together.

“Hello parents! Thank you all for coming out today, our little ones are more than happy to show off what they have been working for the last couple of months! So, if you would all come inside and take a seat, the little ones will be in soon.” Y/n guides the parents in bowing in greeting to each one that passed by her.

Once the parents were settled, Y/n collects the children and they all come in a line into the classroom. Y/n watches as all the children rush off in different directions to hug their parents but notices one toddler walk to the window, using his tiptoes to look outside.

Y/n placed a hand on her cheek and sighed sadly. She hated seeing children so sad and it made it even more painful to watch when it came to the first event of the party.

Each child would bring their mom or dad a cup of lemonade on a tray as a way of showing how independent they can be.

As the event went on, Megumi had sat in the corner, away from everyone with his head tucked in his knees. Y/n walked over to Megumi and crouched in front of him, a smile on her lips.

“Megumi, do you want a snack?” She asked. He shook his head and pressed his head further into his knees. Frowning sadly, Y/n caresses his black hair and decides to sit by him.

Looking on, Y/n watches as the other toddlers were happily interacting with their families, some being encouraged to carefully bring the cup of lemonade to them while others praised their little one on a job well done.

Her eyes then find the doorway when a new figure enters the classroom, a smile blossoming onto her lips as she pats Megumi on his shoulder.

“Megumi, look who’s here.” She says excitedly.

Megumi peeked an eye out from his knees and almost jumped into the air at who he saw.

“Dad!” He squeals as he bounds over to him.

Toji stood at the doorway, awkwardly looking around the small area until they finally landed on Y/n and then to his son, who was already running as fast as his little legs would allow him, towards him. Toji gets down on a bent knee and catches his son in his arms.

Y/n gets up as well and walks over to Toji. She bows in greeting to him and invites him inside the classroom.

“I’m so happy that you came, Megumi here was worried you wouldn’t be able to come.” Y/n says pleased. Toji smirks awkwardly and uses his free hand to rub his neck.

“I ran into traffic on the way.” He says.

“Dad, look!” Megumi squirms out of his father’s arms and rushes over to the table with the tray of lemonade cups.

Y/n brings Toji over to sit in an open space on the floor and sits next to him. Carefully balancing the tray, Megumi takes precise steps towards his father.

Toji claps in amazement at his son and encourages him as he comes closer to him. Once Megumi presented the tray to his father, Toji takes it and pats his son on the head, praising him.

Megumi is all smiles for the rest of the time, going off to play with his friend Yuji and Nobara leaving Toji and Y/n to themselves.

“I’m glad that you were able to come.” Y/n speaks with him in a quieter tone and Toji smiles at his son playing.

“Me too. I’m glad he’s happy.” Toji says.

“So,” he turns to Y/n who hums in response.

“There’s this new yakisoba place that opened up…would you like to go? With me?” Toji asks. Y/n smiles in his direction and raises a brow.

“As friends?”

“As friends.” Toji grins and Y/n giggles.

“I would love to.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

If you haven’t read Part 1 click here:

Read Part 3:

[brittscafe]

Kinktober Day 27

Kinktober Day 27: Soft sex, Jugram Haschwalth x female reader.

Jugram loves to be soft and romantic with you. Especially, after he hasn't seen you in a few weeks since he's so busy being Yhwach's right hand man.

You walk inside your shared bedroom, dim with candles around the room and rose petals along the ground and bed. Your eyes widen and a smile tugs on your face.

Jugram stands in front of your bed, his warm blonde bangs tucked behind his ear, dressed in his usual uniform.

"Hi, my love," Jugram greets you with a warm, tender smile. You gaze up at his pale face and return the kind smile.

"Hi, what's all this?" you ask as he slowly stalks over to you. Your heart rams against your chest and Jugram's eyes are soft, filled with warmth.

"Well, we haven't seen each other in a few weeks. I want to have a nice night with you," Jugram explains and your heart fills up with happiness.

You love the way Jugram can be so sweet and kind. He thoughts are planned out and nice.

Jugram reaches out his bare hand and cups your cheek, thumb grazing along your skin. His touch pricks the hair up along the back of your neck and you lean into his touch.

"I've missed you dearly," you express and Jugram's lips tug into a tiny grin.

"Allow me to express how much I've missed you," his voice is husky, sending a chill down your spine. Jugram dips his head down, closing his eyes and capturing your lips.

Your body becomes warm in his touch, lips pressing together. His blonde eyelashes tickle your cheeks as the kiss grows deeper, lips meshing together.

You're the first to pull away, quietly inhaling sharply for air.

"Yhwach has been working you hard, my love. Are you sure you're up for this?" you ask softly, seeing the tiredness behind his forest green eyes.

Jugram tilts his head to the side, a faint smile along his face. He appreciates your concern for him, but he is more than just fine.

"I can assure you that I am perfectly fine, my dear," Jugram speaks softly and you nod your head. He presses his hand slightly deeper against your cheek, tilting your head up and exposing your bare neck.

His eyes fill with hunger, his mouth watering. Jugram lowers his head to your neck, peppering it with wet kisses. Your hands reach out and grab onto the long sleeves of his uniform, steadying yourself.

A soft moan leaves your lips as Jugram's lips suck and nibble on your sensitive skin. Jugram snakes an arm around your waist, hand flattening against your lower back and circling you in closer to him.

Your eyelids flutter half closed, tiny waves of pleasuring shocking your body. Jugram's long blonde hair, tickles your neck and any bare part of your upper body.

Jugram's hand falls down from your cheek, working on undoing his green belt. His golden belt buckle jiggles as he pulls the belt off his body and tosses it on the ground.

Your hands tug on his trench coat, slowly pulling it off his shoulders and letting it drop to the ground. Jugram pulls you even closer, your breasts pressing up against his now, bare chest.

"Jugram," you whisper out and he pulls away from your neck now covered in red and slightly purple marks. His eyes meet yours as you run your hands over his slim upper torso, feeling every one of his muscles.

"Let me take care of you, angel," Jugram whispers, hands gripping onto the hem of your shirt and tugging it over your head. Your heart skips a beat and you nod your head.

You don't know how to control your heartbeat when Jugram is so soft with his words and calling you such sweet pet names.

Jugram's hand runs down the middle of your chest all the way down to where your pants are. You squeeze your thighs together, just the thought of his fingers being so close to your core make you wet.

His hand travels up from your lower back to where your bra is clasped in the back. You don't even notice him unclipping your bra and sliding it off your skin until the cold air hits your bare breasts.

Jugram's eyes glisten in the dim lighting, admiring you with such hunger. His cock grows hard inside of his boxers at the sight of you.

You're so beautiful and stunning.

Your eyes lock onto Jugram's hand, ever so painfully slowly taking off your pants. He tugs them down your thighs that are sticking to them and down your ankles.

Jugram captures your lips with a heated kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and easily dominating yours. Jugram's hands grip onto your hips and push you back.

You let a tiny yelp as you sink into the mattress and Jugram's weight presses down on you. Jugram presses his hands on the mattress near your head, holding himself above you.

His knee is positioned in between your thighs, dangerously inching closer and closer to your dripping core. You press your clothed core to his knee, being relieved from the pressure.

Jugram hand travels from your stomach to your underwear where he slowly pulls it down. His eyes widen at the huge wet spot on the crotch of your underwear.

"Oh, you're so wet for me, my angel. I'm sorry I've left you unattended for so long," Jugram huffs out, thumb rubbing circles against your throbbing clit.

You squirm against him and moan as if you've never felt a man's touch before. Jugram dips his head down, leaving a trail of kisses on your stomach up to your breasts.

His lips wrap around your nipple, feeling the bead grow hard inside of your mouth. His free hand runs up your side and squeezes your other breast.

"Mhm! S-shit, Jugram," you hiss out, bucking your hips forward as his thumb firmly presses down on your clit. You wrap an arm around his shoulder, your hand flattening against the nape of his neck.

Jugram releases your nipple with a wet pop, lifting his head up and his narrow eyes meeting yours.

You clench around nothing, whimpering. The way he's got you trapped underneath his hot gaze makes you even more turned on.

"Tell me what you want, my dear," Jugram urges you on, thumb rubbing over your nipple.

"I-I want you inside of me. Please," you beg him, unable how much longer you'll be able to take him pressing down on your clit. A grin tugs on Jugram's face and he pecks your lips softly.

Jugram doesn't hesitate to discard of the rest of his his clothes, his pants and boxers discarded with the rest of his clothes scattered on the ground.

You lift your head up, gazing at his hard, long cock. Jugram takes his cock in his hand, stroking it a few times. You bite on your bottom lip and Jugram gazes down at your pussy.

"So wet for me, angel," he whispers huskily, fingers teasing your pussy folds. You're practically dripping out of your hole at this point, your eyes screaming at Jugram to just fuck you.

He hooks one of your legs around his hip, bringing himself even closer. Your jaw drops open as Jugram slowly pushes his raging tip inside of your aching hole.

A gasp rattles your body as Jugram slowly slides his length inside of you. Jugram hand runs up your arm and his fingers interlace with yours.

He presses your hand into the mattress, groaning as he finally bottoms out inside of your pussy. Jugram hangs his head low, his nose resting against yours.

He brings his free hand up and cups your cheek, gazing deeply into your eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asks and you nod your head, unable to form words from the pressure building up inside of your stomach. Jugram lightly taps your cheek and you meet his gaze.

He needs words from you or he won't continue. He has to know that you're okay.

"I'm fine, Jugram. If you stay like this any longer I might go crazy," you warn him, giggling. Jugram smiles warmly and nods his head.

Your cheeks are boiling and your toes are curling from the sweet praises being whispered into your ear as Jugram's hips meet yours.

His hold on your hand is soft yet tight. He's groaning and moaning into your neck, giving your hand a light squeeze. The sound of skin against skin filling the room, fueling something deep inside of Jugram.

His cock fits inside of you so perfectly, walls clenching around his length. The head of his cock hitting that sweet spot each time he thrusts inside of you, his hips meeting yours.

Your moans grow louder and louder, filling the room. Your grip on Jugram's neck is harsh, fingers digging into his skin. His hand is still latched onto yours, never daring to let go.

"O-oh, I'm close, Jugram," you moan out, your jaw going slack, sounds of pleasure spilling out. Jugram hips relentlessly smack into yours, his pace slow and sensual.

Each time, he leaves his cock inside of you for a moment before pulling out and pushing in again.

Jugram's eyes meet yours as you pant heavily. "I know," he mumbles out, hips meeting yours. A loud moan leaves your lips as your thighs tremble and the knots in your stomach come undone.

Your cum spills out of your stuffed hole, dripping onto the base of Jugram's cock.

"There you go, my love. You did so well," he groans out, eyelids fluttering closed. He clenches his jaw, unsure how much longer he can hold out.

Jugram doesn't cum inside of you often, he's a gentleman and prefers not to cum inside of your pretty pussy. Although, he loves to, but he would never go against your wishes and hates to make a mess.

A gleam of sweat glistens over Jugram's face as wet sounds arise from his cock sinking in and out of your pussy.

"Y/n, may I?" he pants out. You glance over at him, knowing exactly what's he asking by the desperate look on his face. He's barely holding himself together.

"Of course," you nod your head, your breasts jiggling with each sharp thrust. Jugram lowers his face to yours, lips grazing over yours. He moans loudly into your mouth, thick ropes of cum filling up your hole.

He continues to thrust sloppily inside of you, before stopping all of his movements. His muscles are aching as he's been holding himself up for a long period of time.

Your heavy breaths mix together and Jugram rests his forehead against yours. His cum mixed with yours start to drool onto the bedsheets and your thighs.

Jugram presses his lips to your forehead as he pulls back his hips, slowly sliding out of you. He hisses slightly when the air hits his soft, sensitive cock.

His blonde hair hangs down onto your face and your nose scrunches up when it tickles you. Jugram sinks down onto the mattress besides you, turning onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow.

His eyes gleam over your body and he reaches out, his hand grabbing your face and pulling you closer. Jugram reaches for the cloth he set aside on the bed just in case.

"Are you okay, my dear?" he asks with a tender voice, running the cloth along your sticky thighs. You smile warmly and nod your head.

"I am more than okay, Jugram," you assure him and he chuckles deeply.

"I shall never leave you unattended for so long again, my love," he presses a soft kiss to your lips, intending for that to seal his promise.

Tags: : @stygianoir@noyaistall@luci-goosey-bbg