#cannot BEAR to look at this anymore!

[8blud]

                                                               𝚛.𝟺-𝟷𝟸𝟶

                                                                    ‘ raru. ’

𝚊  𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍  𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖  𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚊  𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕  𝚢𝚘𝚞  𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝  𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛.     𝚊𝚗  𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚜  𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚘𝚞𝚝  𝚘𝚏  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜  𝚘𝚏  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜,   𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔  𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎  𝚊  𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛.     𝚊  𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔  𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎  𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚔-𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎  𝚊𝚜  𝚒𝚝  𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜  𝚏𝚘𝚛  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜.

basics.

given  name.     rowan  rockwell. real  name.     r.4-120. nickname.     ‘   raru,   ’   give her more. label.     the  synthetic  lamb. (   perceived   )   age.     thirty. gender  identity.     agender   (   she   +   any   ). orientation.     bisexual. occupation.     clinical  statistician  at  anunnaki  pharmaceuticals   &   political  spy  for  the  red-eye,   unknown. moral  alignment.     lawful   /   neutral  evil. character  inspiration.     frankenstein’s  monster   (   frankenstein   ),   rei  ayanami   (   neon  genesis  evangelion   ),   david8   (   alien  franchise   ),   amy   dunne   (   gone  girl   ),   kd6-3.7   (   blade  runner  2049   ),   antigone   (   greek  literature   ),   victoria  neuman   (   the  boys   ),   glados   (   portal   ),   makima   (   chainsaw  man   ).

background.

vivid  memories  that  flicker  into  view,   like  an  old  movie  reel  settling  into  its  camera.     a  swing  at  the  back  of  her  garden,   frayed  at  the  ends.     a  person  standing  over  her  bed,   touching  her  neck  and  squeezing  her  nose  shut.     her  mother  on  a  damp  bed,   pills  strewn  between  the  creases.     a  man,   her  father,   bending  down  to  kiss  her  forehead.     a  boy’s  glob  of  spit  flying  into  her  face.

innocuous  little  images,   unfelt  and  unreachable.     a  dense  forest,   with  an  endless  amount  of  branches,   still  yields  finite  endings.     they  were  written  when  her  arm  could  rigidly  write  her  name,   without  curves.     she  cannot  taste  her  mother’s  sweat  and  tears;   she  cannot  feel  her  father’s  lips,   whether  they  were  chapped  or  moist.     without  help,   she  couldn’t  name  people  in  a  picture  that  captures  her  smiling  face,   fat-cheeked  and  wide-eyed.

in  some  dreams,   she  reaches  for  her  mother’s  pills  and  swallows  them.     the  taste  would’ve  stained  her  little  tongue  for  the  rest  of  her  life.     her  young  stomach  should’ve  lost  its  lining,   until  her  blood  spouts  from  the  organ  like  it’s  gasping  for  air.     drowning  in  her  enclosed  body,   breathing  for  the  first  time.     her  finite  endings  feel  created,   even  when  they  are  missed.     a  possibility  that  was  never  actually  possible.     and  yet,   this  is  where  she  should’ve  died.     the  end  screen  would’ve  been  red,   and  she  would’ve  cried  blood-tears.

bitten  by  curiosity,   she  swallows  those  pills  as  an  adult.     no  side  effects.     her  spit  yearns  to  foam  like  it  did  on  her  mother’s  lips.     her  hands  are  not  her  own  as  she  swallows  more.     and  yet,   nothing.     no  nausea,   no  loss  of  awareness.     not  even  lethargy  sets  in.     just  as  awake,   just  as  alive.     steady  heart,   steady  hands.     untouched  by  pain.

the  years  seem  to  wear  on  and,   interspersed  between  these  images  of  her  life,   are  bare  flashes  of  white  pain.     no  picture,   all  sensation.     three  times,   she  tries  to  focus  on  the  feeling,   before  she  learns  how  to  remember.     if there’s  a  shock  in  the  memory,   her  arm  jerks.     when  it’s  the  simple  feeling  of  temperature,   her  arm  doesn’t  move.

months  pass,   she  thinks,   and  she  begins  to  hear  voices.     they  call  her  an   ‘   r.4   ’   unit,   the  120th  model.     it  changes  nothing.     fear  doesn’t  sit  at  the  base  of  her  throat;   her  parents  remain  un-grieved.     they’re  just  another  statistic,   another  nipped  bud  that  wouldn’t  serve  the  ending  that  was  written  into  her  code.     if  it’s  perfection  she  was  made  for,   then  it  is  perfection  she  will  strive  for.

(  as  an  aside,  i’m  imagining  her  as  a  slightly  earlier  model.  a  very  good  rendition  of  a  person,  but  ‘lacking’  human  empathy.  a  bit  more  in  line  with  blade  runner’s  other  replicants,  like  the  interrogation  at  the  beginning  of  the  movie.  )

(  i’m  also  not  imagining  her  as  a  ‘fighting’  model,  more  of  a  supporting  unit.  she  would  struggle  to  feel  pain,  and  she  would  always  get  up.  in  a  fight,  however,  if  the  other  person  has  more  training  ( … )  they  got  her  coach.  )

(   commissioned  by  the  red-eye  to  be  their  intel  droid  and  political  spy.     she  was  built  to  endure  anything,   to  ‘  die  ’  and  be  able  to  come  back  again.     hence  her  further  increased  invulnerability  and  hindered  empathy  skills.     the  emphasis  is  on  gathering  information,   and  getting  out  physically  unscathed   –   even  if  she  is  caught.   )

[rowanisawriter]

thinking about zagreus struggling through bullshit office work endless paperwork in that fuck ass back room with the faceless shades omg he is just like me fr

[soupforsoup]

One celebrity crush making me question my aspec-ness girl GET UP

[hauntedjohnny]

FLOWER POWER

sissy slaughter x sister-in-law!reader

wc: 3.3k tw: NON-CON, sex pollen, thigh riding, oral sex, fingering, strap-on sex, breath play, overstimulation, somno(?), face-sitting, cuck!johnny i guess

MINORS DNI

Sissy had been staring at you the entire afternoon. You were wearing her shirt. A slip from Bubba holding a glass of water was all it took. It stretched in all the right places, your braless form on show for anyone to see. What threw her over the edge, however, was when you sat on the back porch de-seeding the sunflowers. Your fingers rubbed in circles at the head clenched between your thighs, releasing the beads in a small tray below you. The autumn afternoon sun left a light film on your head, a gentle breeze exposing your neck, cooling the sensation. You were an enticing meal. She had to get you alone.

"Hiya sweetie, what d'ya say about coming to pick some flowers with me? Some girl-time away from these idiots."

You grin at the invitation, nodding in acceptance, hoping she didn’t see the initial confusion in your eyes. When you first met her, you thought she hated you. You and Sissy will get on like a house of fire, trust me, she could make friends with a fly. Johnny couldn’t have been more wrong. Always staring, lips pulled taut, few words shared. You tried to befriend her, but she’d feign busyness whenever you fumbled your way into conversation. You didn’t know how you made her run hot, jealousy running through her blood every time you stared at Johnny with those doe eyes, lust making her blood pound every time she breathed you in. She’s off-limits. Johnny’s voice rang through her head. She knew he wasn't talking about sex, so was she really off-limits? Oh, how Sissy needed to taste you, hear you squeal for her, show you her ways.

"Let me get changed real quick and I'll meet ya back here."

She leaves before you can question her need to change, but you shrug it off, deciding to tell Johnny your whereabouts instead. With a swift kiss on the cheek and a warning about being back before dark, you leave the family house arm in arm with Sissy. Her unchanged appearance went unnoticed as the fields of flowers came into view.

"I have got so much to show you." She giggled, locking the gate behind her.

The vast fields were quiet, a light hum from Sissy filling the void. You trailed behind her as she went to different patches, brushing your hand against the stems, appreciating the nectar scent whenever something piqued your fancy. She observed how you interacted with the flowers, giggling whenever your nose kissed the stamen. As they went deeper into the fields, the flowers in her basket became more abundant. Petals, leaves, stems and roots were crammed together. The empty glass jar was the only thing void of life. Sissy knew she couldn't hold out any longer.

“Could you be a doll and fill this jar with the pollen from those flowers over there?” She said, pointing at a small patch of maroon.

You nodded with an eager smile as she shoves the glass jar into your chest. Always happy to help. You skip over to the sea of red as Sissy watches your retreating form. With a click, the lid opens and you start tapping the flowers, causing spores to fall from the buds into the glass. Gentle fingers stroke each silky petal, fingers turning a darker red with each touch. You couldn't help yourself. The aroma was an invitation for your nose, sticking it deep within the petals. The sweet smell was intoxicating, breathing so deeply you could taste it on your tongue. Your nose tried to warn you, sneezing to expel the rusty dust swirling around you, but the damage had already been done. It was five minutes later when you felt it; the jar was half full, your brain felt like it was going to explode. Closing the half-filled jar, you staggered towards Sissy, eyebrows furrowed as you began to see double.

“You alright, sugar?” Sissy queried, raising an eyebrow at your distressed figure.

“I think the afternoon sun is catching up on me. I'm gonna make my way back.” You reply, running your hand across your forehead, hoping to soothe the ache.

“Nonsense." She waved you off. "Go perch yourself on that patch of grass; we’ll leave together when I’m finished.” She went back to her flowers, the smirk on her face going unnoticed by you.

Your body follows her command like a dog obeying its owner, too focused on the sweat forming on your neck to stand your ground. The heat in your head surges down your body until it settles deep in your core. Knees dirtied as your legs gave way beneath you, writhing in the grass as a cramp soars through you. Your jaw clenches as you try to breathe through it. You wished Johnny was here.

The soft material of your shirt rubbing against your nipple made your writhing stop. You were left frozen at the sensation as your brain tried to catch up to the feeling, small whimpers leaving your mouth. Another shift caused it to catch on the hardened bud again, the feeling rougher as your nipples grew more sensitive. A moan slipped out before you could stop it, catching the attention of the woman nearby. The sensation became unbearable, mimicries of the touch your body needed. Tears sprung in your eyes as the shirt started to feel like sandpaper abrading your skin. It felt like you were suffocating.

You peeled the sweat-stained shirt off your body without a second thought; the cool breeze soothing the fire on your chest was the only thing your mind could focus on. Sissy's shadow looming over you went unnoticed until she let out a small chuckle at the sight of you on your back, squirming uncomfortably. Your eyes fluttered open, steely eyes dragging up your body to meet them, pupils so large they eclipse the reflection of the low sun. Dizziness took over as she brought her face close to yours; four eyes stare down at you as your vision blurred. The proximity was smothering. Another cramp brought your knees to your chest, a subconscious barrier preventing Sissy from getting closer, or perhaps, a barrier preventing you from succumbing to temptations.

“You poor thing.” Sissy cooed, bringing her hand to gently cup your face.

“I think you should go get Johnny.” You choke out, tears turning the girl in front of her into nothing but a blur.

Ignoring your comment, she began circling the wetness on your face with her thumb. The ghost of Johnny’s kiss melted under the heat of your cheeks. You followed her hand with your lips like a bloodhound; staggered breaths landed on her palm as you inhaled her grassy scent. Lips brushed against her skin, the only source of comfort you could find. Your body was starved for touch. Another wave of pain sends your legs into Sissy's stomach, a winded huff leaving her throat at the impact. The grip on your jaw grows tighter. You stifle a moan in the back of your throat before uttering the words Sissy didn't want to hear.

“Want... Johnny...” Your voice was higher, strained.

You fidget below her, the last bit of sense fending for itself, pushing her away with your legs. Your hand goes to grab her wrist, but it's slapped away before you can make contact. A hardness glazed over her eyes. She was trying not to snap as she wrestled with your flailing legs.

“I wouldn't try that if I were you,” she snarled through gritted teeth.

A sharp slap on your thigh caused you to fall rigid, the feeling going straight to your cunt. Winning the fight, she brings her grass-stained fingers to your throat, causing your body to go limp with submission. With tangled legs, her thigh wedges itself between your own. A cruel smile creeps on her face at your compliance.

“There’s nothin’ he can do for you that I can’t.”

Dread drowns your body as you stared at Sissy, biting your trembling lip in contemplation. Her hand grew heavy around your throat, the other sending soothing sparks as it thumbed your shorts, causing your mind to grow cloudier, her touch overwhelming your system. Before you can stop it, a loud sob spills from your throat, tears streaming down your face. You were terrified of Johnny's reaction. You were terrified that you didn't hate what was happening. You needed her. Another wave coursed through you as your hips jolted towards Sissy, grinding against her thigh without thinking. Your sobs turn to that of relief.

Embarrassed by the way your hips move against your will, your eyes clench shut, unable to confront the smug look on Sissy's face. Your pitiful motions spoke for themself — you needed her the way she needed you. Rutting harder, you throw your arms over your face as your cunt throbs with humiliation. Your mind screams at you to stop, but your legs cross behind her, pulling her taut against your body as you try to find your high. Wet kisses are peppered down your neck towards your breasts, a trail of goosebumps following in their wake. You stifle a moan at the back of your throat. Each movement was filled with desperation, her sharp tongue wanting to taste every inch of your skin.

The relief wears off, the confines of your shorts growing tighter, your body wanting to feel Sissy’s skin against it. You push at your shorts in desperation. Sissy, understanding your pitiful whines, untangles herself and strips them from your legs. Before you can bring her back to your heat, she leans down and pushes your thighs apart. You try to resist, whining like a brat as she denies you friction. She sends a glare your way, raising an eyebrow as her nails dig deeper into your thighs at the outburst.

"Such a pretty thing. This all for me?" She bites, staring into your hooded eyes. The taunt in her voice was so soft it made you hazy.

Your underwear is slick, the wetness revealing the contours of your folds. Goosebumps erupt down your body as her nose nudges at your covered clit. Arousal glistens in her eyes as she breathes in deeply, the scent of your own arousal infecting her senses. A silent gasp turned into a strained moan as Sissy licked a broad stroke across your cunt. Before you could make another sound, your sodden underwear was stripped off your body and shoved between your gasping lips. The coolness hitting your slick made your breath hitch. Every hair on your body was alert as Sissy's hot breath hit your hot cunt. Your fingers tangle into her hair in silent plea, urging her closer.

"Y'need me to touch you, sugar?"

You can feel the smirk against your mound. She trails her finger across your glistening lips, cruelly avoiding your engorged clit. She watches it twitch in anticipation, her mouth watering at your desire. She can't hold back any longer, plunging her tongue deep into your folds, your taste covering every inch of her mouth. You scream at the sensation, thighs clamping around her face, eyes rolling deep into your head. Sissy's tongue flicks at your swollen bud, causing you to tug harder at her hair, back arching as you try to chase the feeling. The broad strokes returned to your folds, drinking your addictive sweetness. She was exploring every nook and cranny with her tongue, losing herself to the taste of you; she had waited so long for this; she was going to savour it.

Your wetness falls to the grass below, weeping for more. Sissy couldn't help but concede to your demands. Nudging your thigh with her shoulder, she spreads your petals with her slender finger, tracing at the entrance. Stuttering moans slip through your stuffed lips as her exploration advances inside. Her fingers were nothing compared to the thick, calloused ones you were used to, and yet you could feel every ridge of her finger stroking your walls. You were so sensitive to her touch. The squelch of your wetness suctioning against her finger spurred her on. She knew you could take more, your body was begging for it. Three slender fingers were welcomed, your walls clenching around them in greeting. She curled them as she thrust them in and out at a steady pace. You drooled at the feeling.

"S'like you were made for me, doll."

Sissy kissed at your abandoned clit, throbbing against her lips for attention. Her tongue drew slow circles around it in perfect rhythm. The fire over your body centralised in your core, nails gripping at her scalp as you pulled her flush against you. A laugh escaped her, vibrating against your bud and into your cunt. Her fingers were nimble, prodding at corners you didn't know were there, scratching an itch you didn't know you had. With every thrust of her fingers, with every roll of her tongue, you were falling deeper into her trap; you were her perfect plaything. She wanted you to come for her, so that's what you did. You cried out to the skies as you drenched her fingers. She brought them to her lips, her tongue diving between each digit, savouring the flavour to memory. The wetness on her chin glistened in the setting sun — she knew she didn't have much longer with you.

A ravenous glint sparkled in her eye as she admired your trembling body, chest heaving as you try to breathe through your clogged nose and gagged mouth. A gasp of air entered your lungs as she removed your underwear, using it to wipe at her mouth before pocketing it. She couldn't wait any longer; you were nothing but a rag-doll for her to manhandle, body eager to fulfill her every desire. Your slick cunt was exposed to the world as you were rolled over, ass pulled towards the sky. A heaviness was felt against your back. It was familiar but different; cooler and harder, unnatural. You peer behind through wet lashes to see a dildo strapped to Sissy's waist. A gasp flew out of your mouth when you registered the size. Sure, Johnny was big, but you'd never seen a cock so thick. Sissy's finger tips were unable to meet as she dragged it between your dripping folds.

"You don't have to be scared. Just clear your mind." She consoled, palms fondling the flesh of your ass.

She was right. All thoughts scattered from your mind as she pushed into you. The brutality of the stretch burned as the tip breached your opening, slowly fizzling into pleasure as the rest of her cock follows. Your arousal made it easy as she settled deep into you, every nerve end singing for Sissy. Her hands drag across your back, claws leaving embossed trails as they stake claim over your skin. Just as you adjusted to her size, she pulls out and slams into you. Your arms give way, face hitting the floor. You shove your face into the earth to mask the pathetic groans falling from your lips. The sex-fuelled oath of being Johnny’s was overwritten by a single thrust.

“Does Johnny treat you this good? No, I’m sure he just uses you for his own sake. Don’t think of anyone but himself. It’s okay, I’ll take care of you, sweet thing.” Sissy grunts through gritted teeth, as she continues to abuse your weeping cunt.

You whisper your sinful whines to the ground, your sweat, drool and tears irrigating the field. Sissy's thrusts become desperate and rough as she drives herself deeper into you. The divine light was hidden between your thighs and she was desperate for enlightenment. She wishes she could feel the way you clench around her but the way you howl for her makes up for it. Every thrust leaves you winded as you gasp for air against the dirt, brown smearing across your cheek at the force. Your fingers curl around the blades of grass to ground yourself, mud caking under your nails. The base of the strap smacks against your abused clit; all you can do it arch your back as she relentlessly pummels into you. Hitting the deep angles Johnny never had sent shivers up your spine. Pleasure blossoms in your core. You could feel her everywhere. Every part of you was hers for the taking.

Chants of her name accompany the slaps of skin as you reach your high, a harsh spank to your flesh sending you over the edge. Bright white stars explode behind your eyes as you scrunch them closed. Even as the light fades, her thrusts don't stop. She wanted more, the hunger in her eyes tunnelling in on your writhing body beneath her. You try to pull away, the sensation unbearable, but your legs are numb. All your aching muscles could do is collapse to the floor, Sissy's body following, capturing you against the grass as she ruts against you relentlessly. Pleasure turns to pain as the pollen begins to wear off, feeling the stretch like an inferno. You try to catch your breath, but every gasp panics you as dirt enters your lungs. The claiming mutterings of Sissy don't make it to your ears as your brain buzzes at the lack of oxygen. The world goes black as your body burns for her.

You were nothing but a rag-doll for Sissy to use. She pulled out of your unconscious body; the strap thrown aside as she traced your swollen chapped lips with her finger. It would be a shame to not take advantage. She lowered herself onto your face, slowly grinding on it to test the waters. A gleeful moan echoed as her clit bumped against your nose. She couldn't control herself. Your eyes begin to flutter open, lungs gasping for air, only to be met with her arousal coating your lips. Struggling against her hold, your nails dig into her thighs — an attempt to claw your way out. Your panicked wriggling encourages her to rut harder as your nose rubs against her bud. She gives into your pleading doe eyes, lifting for a moment to grant you a gasp of air before continuing her assault. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Wetness from her cunt meets the wetness of your tears, the sight bringing her closer to the edge as her thrusts become animalistic. The lack of oxygen makes you woozy, head spinning as she gushes on your face with an unabashed scream. Her grinding slows as she rides out her orgasm. The satisfaction on her face made you warm — you did that.

She pulled away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you, before grabbing your underwear and cleaning your face with it. Her movements were tender as she wiped away the tears and dirt off your cheeks, removing as much evidence of the night as she could. She held your head in her hands, waiting for your eyes to meet her own. A sinful smirk crept onto her face.

"We're gonna have so much girl-time together from now on; a perfect doll for me to play with..." she trailed off as she stroked your hair, head hanging heavy in her hands.

You were redressed before your brain could catch up to her words, too tired to realise she'd packed her things and left. Everything was still spinning, your body still tingling, shivering as a small breeze passes through the flower patches. The distant call for Johnny from a skipping Sissy fell to the back of your mind as you watch the sky gradate to black. You were content. A life of servitude and pleasure didn't seem so bad.

[eleccy]

what happens when klavier and apollo are sorting through kristoph's belongings after his execution and come across an honest-to-god scrapbook, a scrapbook that starts with pictures of kristoph and klavier, the first one being of a young kristoph holding klavier on the day that klavier was born, and subsequent chronological polaroids of the brothers on vacations, on first days of school, on holidays, christmas photos, concerts, birthdays, graduations, and kristoph has meticulously marked dates and locations on every page, and he's freaking decorated every page with colored paper and taped-in ticket stubs and mod podged confetti and he's goddamn DESIGNED this thing, the page with klavier's first concert is marked "a special day!" in neat cursive and it's a pic of them both smiling before everything went straight to shit, and the number of pictures on each page slowly gets more and more sparse, and then there are almost abruptly a few blank pages, and then there are no more pages of kristoph and klavier together. instead now there are pictures of kristoph and apollo at events, social dinners, trials, apollo's graduation, more pictures of apollo and kristoph together smiling at the camera than apollo ever remembers posing for and taking but it looks like he did, and the extra decorations and whatnot are a little more muted, just a little less glamour in them but the same attention to detail as the pages that have klavier, the very last page is apollo and kristoph at a bar association sponsored dinner from april 5, and then the pages stop abruptly for a second time and the rest of the book is completely blank because we know what happened on april 20.

and neither one of them ever fucking knew that he kept this or cared or gave half a shit, but a man who is known to rigorously stalk people who might just somehow be tangentially related to a case that he was tangentially involved with can only treat the people he really loves and cares about in a certain way, given that, and this was like his hobby. this dude was at a craft store on saturday nights picking out matching rick rack and tissue paper and those little zigzag scissors that you use on craft paper and he was telling nobody about it he was just doing it to soothe the demons in his own mind because goddamnit he was proud of those two jokers and he was going to document that shit to look back on if nobody else would. because god knows their parents weren't doing it.

[ronanlynchbf]

i literally will never understand casual dating like wdym i give my heart to someone & open up to them & be vulnerable with them and then we break up after a few months there's no way. Die for me or don't hit me up at all 🙄

[irisbaggins]

Guess what, I've worked what probably amounts to half of my total hours, in one fucking month. My store is resting on my shoulders, it seems, and boy do I feel that. I have not had a moment's rest since my vacation, and uh, it's probably not sustainable? Maybe?

Anyway. Guess who's going to be travelling for hours on end and then arrive just a day before a mandatory University lecture? It's me!

[buttercuparry]

Help Siraj get to 70k by Thursday!!

Some bloggers were less than pleased with my most recent posts where I talked about how Palestine has become a momentary trend for many, and accused me of trying to "guilt trip". They even predicted that these posts wouldn't bring in any sustained support for Siraj Abudayeh ( @siraj2024 ) and advised me to instead keep it to the point. Well alright then, let's keep it short and get to the point:

Siraj Abudayeh is a journalist who is fundraising to survive and rebuild in Gaza as he has no plans to evacuate

Recently he became the sole provider of FIVE FAMILIES- both his own and that of his parents and married siblings, after they all fled to him to escape the recent IOF attacks. 

As he is now fundraising to bear the cost of all 23 family members, he is even more desperate to finish his campaign. 

What the family needs most now is access to clean drinking  water. With 10 children ( Siraj's sons and their cousins) to take care of and with the polio epidemic spreading in camps, this is imperative. 

He has requested us to help him buy a submersible water generator and network tools. This is costly but with water treating plants and other facilities being completely destroyed, this is the only long term solution for now.

For 11 months Siraj has hesitated to buy a water generator. He was afraid  that he wouldn't be able to manage it while also making sure that his family had something to eat. But since there are more children (all between 6 and 12 years of age) to take care of now, he cannot put this off anymore. The settler state has already  unchilded them- they risk their lives and walk long distances to look for drinkable water to carry back in heavy pails, when they instead should have been working on their homeworks or playing. Siraj wants them to at least be relatively safe from having to take such risks to survive. 

Siraj needs to reach 70k by THURSDAY, that is within 3 days, so that he can start the process of making a purchase. You said that I do not need to write scathing posts to have your attention, so I am here now requesting you to act upon Siraj’s plea for help. 

He is currently only at $65,393 CAD . That is 4.6k away from our next short term goal. Boost and donate and help him access clean water for the children. 

[ GFM LINK ] [ Vetting #219]

[effervescent-fool]

getting real sick of my mom. kms about it

[typingbunny]

I‘m obsessed with this

Him pressing her to the ground

His body covering her entire body bc he's so tall and broad, the feeling of his weight on her

The handholding that functions as pinning her down

His red ears (might be from the cold though)

The hand on her cheeks + kinda holding her chin just bc he can since his hands are so big

This is only a guess but convince me that he's not parting her legs with his resting one leg dangerously close to the warmth he "needs"

On that note: the ice melting during the kiss

His outfit is not only pretty but I bet fun to take off as well-

Warning: this is just smut, pure filth.

If you’re not 18+ this is your cue to leave 🚪

Zayne is the type of boyfriend that makes you ride him while looking into his eyes until you can’t hold yourself up anymore because it’s so intense and he’s reaching so deep.

He loves this view. He may be under you but don’t let it fool you to think you’re in charge. If he wanted to he could just fuck into you from this angle by slightly working his hips towards you and make you see stars. However at this point, how hazy you are already that would be just cruel … wouldn’t it?

This angle allows him a prime view to just watch you as you chase your high by using him as not more than a means to get that release you’re craving.

He’s obsessed with you. He tries to hide how much he really adores you because he doesn’t want to scare you away with how much he actually wants you, needs you, but he is sure you can feel his heart pounding beneath your hands as you straddle him regardless of his attempts to mask it. The heart cannot lie.

He reaches up and cups your perky breasts in his big, surprisingly warm, hands. They are so warm they feel like fire on your skin so much it feels like they are trying to burn themselves onto Zayne’s favourite part of your body. After idly caressing your breasts, Zayne changes up the soothing manner and opts for increasing the roughness of his touch as he alternates between massaging them gently to squeezing them harshly from time to time, a feeling that goes straight to your core.

The look on your face, that cock-drunk expression: mouth slightly agape, eyes struggling to stay focused threatening to roll back and you tearing up because of how good he is making you feel. Zayne has jerked off to your face more times than he wants to admit.

He gently cups your face causing you to ground yourself a little and make eye contact with him. His thumb strokes over your cheek in an adoring manner until it travels down to your lips. They are pink and swollen and for a second he thinks about sinking his cock between them, but not now. Now he wants you to cum for him while he is buried deep inside of you. Deeper than any other man ever was nor would for that matter because that is out of question. No matter the circumstances or consequences, Zayne would hunt down whoever tried to replace him. He could easily make it look like an accident. Sometimes his love for you scares him but that’s a price he is willing to pay.

“Open.“

He doesn’t have to elaborate, you know exactly what he wants as you start sucking on his fingers like a shameless whore. His whore. Only his. Forever. The little velvet box bearing an engagement ring, that has been resting in his part of the closet for a while being a token for that.

“Good girl.“

He takes his wet fingers out of your mouth and swirls them around your nipple and a tiny moan erupts from you. Zayne chuckles and you send him a playful glare. That glare doesn’t hold up long though because drinking in how sinful your boyfriend looks under you, you’re quickly occupied with trying not to cum but rather ingrain that image into your memory so you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.

Black hair pushed back, slightly tousled; most likely a result of your doings earlier when his face was buried between your thighs. His cheeks and ears are red, a telltale sign that he is either embarrassed or aroused. Right now it’s the latter. His forehead is covered in beats of sweat and his eyes are filled with something that can be only described as pure lust.

You’re brought back to planet earth by a cold pinch of your sensitive nipples and another moan escapes you. That crazy motherfucker used his EVOL and it felt good. Make lemonade out of lemons or whatever they say.

This was the last straw to your somewhat composure. Now you are clutching onto his shoulders to hold yourself up as Zayne continues his assault on your nipples.

“Zayne-”

Hearing you moan his name always does it for him. He can feel something in him snap, most likely his self control and his blood practically starts to boil.

“Come here.”

And then, with a swift motion he just scoops you up into his arms pressing your chest against his as he rocks you up and down the whole length of cock like his personal fleshlight. If you weren’t moaning and screaming you’d be in awe of how strong he is as he rocks you up and down hitting deeper than you thought was ever possible, muscles flexing beneath his perfect skin. In an attempt to get even closer to him you bury your face into his neck and let yourself be consumed by Zayne’s smell, that certain smell you call home. God the things you’d do for this man.

Clutching your thighs, his fingertips leave little marks that knowing Zayne, he will profusely apologize for tomorrow. Meanwhile you’re holding onto his shoulders for dear life carelessly leaving little crescent moons on his back.

He once pointed out, how much he actually enjoys you “leaving a mark on him”. First you thought it was a typical Zayne move trying to comfort you so you don’t feel bad about hurting him. But one day when you where looking for pictures on his phone for a little gift you were preparing, a photoalbum for your anniversary, you found an interesting picture.

It was Zayne in front of your bedroom mirror trying to photograph said marks on his back. You contemplated to tease him with the evidence but the mental imagine of big mean Zayne (that’s at least what others who didn’t know him thought of him to be) standing in front of your bedroom mirror trying to get the perfect picture was too adorable. What you don’t know is that once he got it, he just stood there in the middle of the room looking at the picture, 6’1 of lovey-dovey mush with a loopy grin on his face.

So right now you are basically clawing at his back amping up the scratches the more he moans and curses under his breath.

Once he can’t take it anymore and the only thing on his mind is breeding you as he cums over and over again deep inside of you filling you up until you beg him to stop, he embraces you tightly and flips both of you so he is on top. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and he feels your wetness all over him. Immediately his hands find yours, interlacing your fingers. What looks like romantically holding hands is his gateway to restrain you, holding them tightly pinned over your head so your tits are completely exposed.

His lips find one sensitive nub and he starts devouring you while looking up at you through his lashes, and you swear if he keeps that up you’re going to reach your high from this alone.

“Zayne please-

M-Move!”

He detaches from his favourite toy, his personal little make her dumb button so to speak, to look at you, a twinkle in his eye. For a second he imagines what it would be like to make you suffer a little bit and make you beg for it. Because he knows you would beg for him. Just like you have many times.

You’re so fucked out and desperate for him it turns him on so much it almost hurts and though he swears couldn’t possibly be any harder he feels another wave of desire wash over him, threatening to drown him. Not only does he accept his fate, the thought weirdly enough makes him beyond happy and he struggles to hide the smirk creeping up on the corner of his by now swollen lips as he goes in for a kiss and you can’t help but surrender yourself to.

“ Whatever you want my love.”

He leans down whispering in your ear, voice laced with desire, and something slightly … sadistic?

“Just remember, you asked for it.”

From that point on, only the gods above can help you and the bed frame …

I don’t know why but I picture Zayne to be less of a butt guy and rather a boobie guy maybe because of cardio lmao … 💭

[anantaru]

cw. dragoncock, size kink, fem! reader

dragon zhongli who has to fuck you with his fat tip before he can even do anything more than that, your jaw hanging open as he shifts your lower half towards him— his trembling breath on your skin weeping, his nocturnal and safe cradle rounding up this dance of tension as your eyes turn into heart.

it's everywhere, zhongli was everywhere, invading your senses and penetrating your nostrils with his gracious, galvanizing scent— not to mention how sweat and all kinds of fluids were now pooling stickily onto your belly, thighs and cunt. you moan salaciously at the further stretch, sensing a heart beat on your warm sex as zhongli gives you another inch, not failing to see you absolutely loving it with that clouded grin on your lips.

his tip slides deeper and the copious amount of cum surely aided him in that, fueling an additional stretch on you while zhongli stays like that for a while, in you, forcing you to feel his large length push into your walls— the man knows he cannot let you indulge too much though, you'll either get a little greedy or it'll end up being a bit too much for your sweet, little cunt to bear, especially with the way he'd pinch and nudge against the swollen regions inside you with thrilling pressure.

zhongli was massive and a part of him feared that he'd be too much.

your hips roll up to meet his small thrusts, which were pitiful grinds if anything as zhongli looks at how your pussy was swallowing him suggestively, feeling entirely wanton as the sensations cascaded through him with a heady lust that transcended every expectation inside of his heart.

you know that if his fat cock hurts you, he will stop immediately and resort back in fucking you with his thick tip, because of course, zhongli wants you go enjoy it, there was nothing else he wanted more.

he always tells you to take your time until you're used to his shape, his size and his pace— used to his sensual movements which served as an invitation to your body spasming beneath his dominating one.

someone with such experience which zhongli harbored, wasn’t necessarily shy in his doings, not at all, in fact— he's blunt, experienced when he grabs your hips to him and pull his steadily hardening cock against the tight opening of your hole a bit more.

now, halfway through, you show him how obediently your walls throb around him when he fucks you, when he feeds your cunt with his aching erection until it's settled in a position you're pleased in and your legs get all sore, pushing you to a place of pleasure and harmony like anything you had known before.

it felt like it belonged here, just as it felt like you couldn't possibly move your hips anymore by how full you were of him— and his draconic instincts emerge as his eyes glow of divinity and lust, his shaft pushing into every bit of space your hole could offer.

dropping your head back into the pillows, you feel a knot forming in your stomach until it started to scratch and throb in you, yet the sensation of being overcrowded by his cock made it difficult to decide if it was your orgasm building up or if zhongli had already invaded the literal guts of you.

his thick, oozy cum was making the friction nearly unbearable to ignore as it turns you more sensitive— aside from the fact that his seed was impossibly hot, almost as if it was trying to burn through your walls when all it did was turn you needier. it has your body covered in his filth, and your voice was too broken with moans and gasps to form words as you mewl into his mouth with every touch and thrust.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[aemondsbabe]

The Gods and Everyone

summary: you and aemond sorely overestimate how much time you have before a small council meeting, which leaves the two of you in quite a scandalous predicament

pairing: aemond targaryen x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, cockwarming, public sex, slight breeding kink, fingering, aemond being an absolute menace, dirty talk, aegon being a little shit but what else is new, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 5.6k

a/n: based on an anon request for cockwarming! i hope you're still with me and that you enjoy this, friend! sorry it took me so long to get to it!

creds to @bbygirl-aemond for the gif!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

You watch, concerned, as your husband flits around the Small Council chamber, your eyes following his lithe form as he checks and re-checks the parchment with notes he had written for himself earlier that morning – you’d awoken in the pale hour just before sunrise to see him already hunched over the small desk in your chambers, scribbling away furiously with a quill, his pale hair glowing in the dim light of the candle next to him. All of your attempts to lure him back into bed with you had fallen on deaf ears. 

“You know you needn't do all this,” you point out, perched against the Small Council table, your eyes tracking him as he paces back and forth across the space, going over his notes for the upteenth time, “Your only job is to be on time like everyone else, husband.”

“Things will improve with time,” he rushes out, fixing you with a pointed look, “Hardly two moons have passed since Viserys…” He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose, “The least I can do is ease this transition for Aegon and mother.”

“My love, it is a transition for us all,” you soothe, striding to him and gently taking his hand. His fingers, rough from all his years of training with swords and spears, instantly wrap around your own as he lets out a tired sigh, “You included. Aegon named you Master of War, not master of everything.” 

“I know,” Aemond murmurs, eye softening as his gaze traces over you, “I find it hard to be still when there is so much chaos – Dorne has yet to be subdued and there are whispers of rebellion from the North. There is so much still to be accounted for.”

“I understand,” you reassure him, your fingers threading through his long, silvery hair, lips quirking into a smile as the gesture makes his eye flutter closed for a second. “But all this stress cannot be good for you, husband,” you sigh, gazing up at him with a mournful smile, “You need rest and calm and…and I need you.” You nearly whisper, blush creeping across your cheeks as Aemond’s eye darkens. 

“Sweetling—“ He starts with a sigh. 

“Aemond, please,” you cut him off, wrapping your arms around his trim waist as you lay your head against his chest, his heart thumping in your ear, “I cannot bear to hear another excuse, I feel as if you have been away for weeks.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, wrapping his long, lean arms tightly around you as he rests his chin on your head, your breaths the only sound in the stony chamber. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, smoothing a hand up and down your back, “I miss you too, my sweet girl.” 

You hum, leaning further into his embrace after going without it for so long, “You haven’t touched me in weeks.” You say quietly, his touch already igniting a spark in the pit of your stomach. 

“Perhaps tonight,” his breath is warm against the top of your head as he speaks into your hair, “I will try to cut my meeting with–”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” you cut him off once more with a sigh, pulling back to look up at him, “I can’t take anymore, my love, I need to feel you.” You whine, nearly petulant like a spoiled child. If it were any other time, if you were any less desperate, you’d be embarrassed at your behavior. Right now, though, you could not find it within yourself to care as you stared into your husband’s darkened eye, finally feeling the passion you had gone so many weeks without. 

Aemond chuckles as he looks down at you, conflicted between feeling pleased to see you reduced to such a state while also feeling a similar fire in his own belly. “Sweetling, the meeting–”

“Is not due to start for at least another hour!” You interrupt, determined to persuade him to this. Taking you in various parts of the Keep was not new to him, both of you had plenty of memories from your courtship and first year of marriage of rutting together in all sorts of nooks and crannies of the old castle. 

Aemond gazes at you for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face, though his eye remains dark with desire. After a second, he nods to himself almost imperceptibly, seeming to come to some decision you weren’t privy to. Finally, finally his lips descend upon yours as he sweeps you into an all-consuming kiss, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulls you to him, groaning lowly in his throat as he licks into your mouth. You shiver in his grasp, finally tasting him properly after so long as you whimper and whine into his mouth.

“Aemond,” you gasp as you finally part from him, mewling as he immediately trails kisses down your jaw, “What–”

“Seems I can never deny you for very long, sweetling,” he huffs, halfway laughing as he guides you over to the large table, pulling you up by the waist until you’re sitting on the cool stone table, your legs bracketing his trim waist, “I’ve missed you too, my love.” He confesses, sweeping a lock of hair from your shoulder before trailing kisses up across your neck and jaw, one hand already desperately pulling up the bottom of your gown.

You huff out small moans and whimpers, relishing his warm touch. His nimble fingers finally manage to undo the knot at the front of your smallclothes and he tugs them down quickly, leaving you bare for him under your skirts as they fall to a pile on the floor just beside his chair at the table. 

“Husband,” you pant, tugging at the drawstrings at the top of his trousers, “Please, please do not make me beg today, I–” Your train of thought is cut off as a moan, louder than it should be given the location, tears itself from your throat when you feel his long fingers ghost over your center.

“Shh, darling,” Aemond grins as he feels your arousal immediately coat his fingers, a pleased hum emanating from deep in his chest as he feels it already coating the insides of your thighs as well, “I don’t have the patience to restrain myself today, sweet one,” he mutters, watching your face carefully as he spreads your folds and teases your entrance with a finger before carefully sliding it in, groaning with satisfaction at the feel of your walls already tightly clamping down on it, “Nor the time.” He adds with a slight smirk, pale hair cascading like a curtain down his shoulders as he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Oh, Gods,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut as your hands white knuckle the dark leather of his tunic, too uncoordinated with lust to manage the ties on his pants, “M-My love, more please!” You whisper, angling your hips to try and catch another of his fingers. 

You hear him chuckle above you before he pulls his finger from you, smirking as you whine pitifully at the loss. Before you have a chance to protest, he quickly undoes his trousers, not bothering to pull them down at all and opting to merely loosen the laces at the front enough to free his cock. Your eyes widen as you watch his hand stroke over his length momentarily, taking in the way it already throbs in his grasp, the head flushed and leaking from merely having you in his hands once more.

“Ready, sweetling?” He asks, gently tilting your chin up as he captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his other hand positioning his length at your entrance. 

You part from him and nod eagerly, widening your legs and angling your hips, “I’ve been ready for you for weeks, Aemond.” 

He smiles softly, pressing one more kiss against your neck before finally pressing into you, growling as he sinks into your slick heat. “Seven,” he grunts, cradling the back of your head with one hand as his other slinks down to grab at your hip, “You feel better every time, sweetling.”

You moan hotly against his shoulder, sinking your teeth into the thick leather of the shoulder of his tunic in an attempt to quiet yourself. Your eyes squeeze shut at the feel of him sliding into you, filling you to the brim perfectly. You’ve been without him for so long that he feels enormous, your walls aching as he stretches you out, pressing in and in until he’s finally seated fully within you. 

Without another word, Aemond started thrusting into you, slow at first but quickly picking up the pace with every firm roll of his hips into you. After only a moment, he’s already grunting like a madman into your ear, holding you to him even as you cling tightly to his shoulders yourself, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist. 

You feel a fire building in your belly at a breakneck pace as he ruts into you, the hand on your hip no doubt leaving fingerprint bruises across your skin, even through the fabric of your gown. If the low groans from your husband are any indication, he isn’t doing much better. He threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you into a desperate kiss, teeth and tongues clashing together frantically as if the two of you are trying to fall into each other, to become one. 

“My love, I—,” he pants against your lips, jerking your head back by the grip he has on your locks. His eye meets yours, the light lilac almost entirely eclipsed by his pupil as he stares at you hungrily, “It’s been so long, I don’t know how long I can last.” 

His breath is warm as it fans over your lips and you nod dazedly, zings of pleasure radiating up your spine from Aemond’s grip in your hair only adding to the warmth quickly threatening to overtake you. “It’s okay,” you swallow thickly, eyes already rolling back with pleasure, “I can’t either.” 

Nodding in return, he picks up the pace, the head of his cock rutting against the most sensitive spot within you hard enough to make you see stars. He hasn’t even needed to tease your pearl and you’re already nearly unraveling as Aemond mumbles nearly incoherent praises, the hand on your hip traveling lower, nearly cupping your ass. 

Just as you’re about to warn him of your inevitable release, muffled voices sound from behind the thick wooden doors that lead into the Small Council chambers. Aemond slows within you as both of your heads swivel to the doors — just in time to hear the guards stationed outside begin to tug them open. 

You freeze, eyes widening as the doors open, seemingly in slow motion. Thankfully, your husband moves quickly enough for the both of you, nimbly scooping you into his arms before hastily dropping down into his chair, hurriedly scooching it forward until both of your laps are hidden under the stone surface of the table, before kicking your smallclothes under the table at the last second. 

Your head whips around to face Aemond and you give him a panicked, wide-eyed look just as people start filing into the room, unaware that you’re still being split open by your husband’s length. One hand, still on your hip, tightens, silently commanding you to be still as his lilac eye pleads the same; his other hand is already poised on the table, relaxed against the cool surface as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

“Yes, yes, we must certainly ask him once he’s back in King’s Landing,” Lord Tyland’s voice fills the chamber as he walks in, engaged in a conversation about something or other with Lord Corlys, the two sharing a laugh before finally taking notice of you and Aemond, “Prince, princess.” Tyland bows his head at the two of you with Corlys following soon after. 

You sit frozen atop your husband, gazing blankly at the two men without a word. Thankfully, Aemond has the presence of mind to bow his head politely, though he stays quiet. As they walk further into the room, you can only see Tyland and Corlys from the corner of your eye but you don’t miss the odd look they share, silently asking each other why you were present and certainly why you were sitting on Aemond’s lap. Blood rushes to your head so quickly you feel lightheaded, your cheeks stinging as a harsh blush quickly appears on your face from their attention. 

Maester Orwyle files through the doorway next, doing a double take at you and Aemond before bowing his head, a gesture that you thankfully remember to return this time as you stiffly nod your head. Thankfully, the older man simply takes a seat at his place at the table without any comment, though you can hear the two other men speaking quietly in the corner of the room, throwing glances your way as they do. 

Your walls tighten around Aemond’s length as the rest of you tenses up when Larys creeps in, leaning against his cane as he moves; Aemond thighs tense underneath you as you hear him suck in a breath, only slightly more hasty than normal — the hand in your hip tightens, warning you to keep it together. 

“Prince Aemond, princess,” Larys nods as he approaches the table, “To what do we owe the pleasure of such… intriguing company?” He questions, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes ever so slightly, his eyes bouncing between you and Aemond. 

Your head spins as you stare straight ahead, willing yourself to respond, to say anything, to appear somehow normal. Yet, nothing comes out as your center throbs uselessly around Aemond, your head cloudy with need as your eyes stare ahead blankly, though registering just enough to pick up on the small smirk playing at the corners of Larys’s lips. 

“My wife appears to have taken ill this morning,” Aemond drawls from over your shoulder while affectionately petting your waist, a gesture entirely for show, a lie to placate the men in the room, but it comforts you nonetheless. He clears his throat before continuing, the only tell thus far that your warmth around him is affecting him at all, “My presence brings her great comfort, I see no reason why she should be without it.” 

“I see,” Larys hums in response, his dark eyes sweeping over your form, sparkling ominously as if he knows the truth, “What shame, let us hope the Gods grant you reprieve from this…illness soon, princess.” 

“Yes!” You finally squeak, snapping back to attention as Aemond just barely squeezes your side, “Yes, let’s hope so. Thank you, Lord Larys.” You breathe, managing a smile small. 

You shift on your husband’s lap and immediately you know you’ve made a mistake as the head of his cock prods directly into that overly sensitive patch within you, nearly making you topple over on the spot as a small groan escapes you. Blessedly, you have enough presence of mind to cover it up with a cough, sparks jolting down your back as Aemond presses a soft kiss to your cheek, one of his hands coming up to rub soothing circles against the back of your shoulder. 

“There, there, sweetling,” he says softly, again, entirely for show as you put on your best performance, “Once the meeting is over, we will have the servants make some tea for you, that will help with that cough.” Even if it was for show, you couldn’t help but shiver at Aemond’s low voice, at how he’s being so soft and caring with you. That, combined with the incessant prodding to your sweet spot, has you throbbing around him, your heart hammering in your chest. You can hear Aemond suck in another barely there gasp behind you, a groan low enough to remain silent rumbling against your back while at the same time his hand almost imperceptibly twitches on the table; his composure makes you feel all the more lightheaded, blushing somehow deeper at the fact that he’s taking you apart this easily without so much as moving a muscle. Your thighs trembled atop his lap, the insides already sticky with your arousal as you struggled to stay still, silently thanking the Gods that at least your laps were hidden. 

“I’m sorry,” Corlys began, striding over from his spot in the corner with a sheepish look, “I really feel I must speak up, this is really most unusual.” He finishes through an awkward laugh, Tyland following closely behind him as they saddle up to the table. 

“What is most unusual?” Alicent asks, entering the Small Council chambers with Otto, followed closely after by Aegon and Ser Criston. Her eyes sweep over the room, pausing when she sees you, though she quickly corrects herself with a soft smile. “Ah, my dear,” she nods hello to the various men in the room before sitting at the table, “May I ask why your wife joins us, Aemond?” She peers at him curiously, throwing a nervous glance at Aegon who is smirking far too much for her liking as he slinks up to the table. 

“It seems the princess has fallen ill, your grace,” Larys answers quickly, slyly smiling as he turns to face the dowager queen, “Prince Aemond insisted she stay so that she may be…comforted.” You quickly look away from him as his eyes meet yours once again, piercing through you as though he can see directly through your gown. 

“Yes, which is most odd,” Tyland butted in, throwing glances between you, Aemond, Alicent, and Aegon, “She is not a member of the council, she should not be present. Surely there is some way the princess could be comforted that does not involve being privy to government matters.”

Aemond stays silent behind you, glaring daggers at Aegon over your shoulder, watching carefully as he traipses over to the table and stands at its head, his eyes never straying from his brother’s as they stare one another down. The other members, some reluctantly, take their places at the table as well, each of them standing so long as Aegon does, though you and Aemond remain seated; your eyes never stray from the marbled surface of the table.

“Aemond, please,” Otto sighs from his place next to you, “The least you and the princess could do is stand for–”

“I see him everyday,” Aegon interjects, breaking eye contact with your husband as he rolls his eyes, “I don’t give a shit if the fool stands.”

Your eyes dart up at that, shocked that Aegon isn’t taking the chance to thoroughly humiliate Aemond by putting him on the spot. The king’s violet eyes meet yours, sparkling with a mischief that makes your center flutter around your husband’s length – Aegon’s smirk grows as if he knows exactly what just happened. A thin sheen of sweat makes you feel clammy as Aemond’s cock twitches inside of you, pushing him against your sweet spot all the more. 

“Very well,” Alicent swiftly cuts in, determined to keep the peace, “Shall we get st–”

“Are we really going to allow for the presence of–” Corlys starts, only to be viciously cut off.

“She stays,” Aegon says flatly, shooting a bored look at the man, “If anyone has an issue with the princess’s presence they may take their leave.” His violet eyes pass over the room, almost daring anyone to move. Everyone remains still, though you can feel Tyland and Corlys glaring at the side of your head, and after a moment, Aegon takes his seat followed by everyone else; blessedly, the meeting finally begins. 

The Small Council meeting drones on and on, with various conversations of coin and ships, concerns abroad in Essos, and other diplomatic matters that mean nothing to you. In the back of your mind, you know it’s hardly been any time at all but it feels like an eternity has passed with Aemond’s hard length still piercing into you, twitching against your pulsing walls every so often. A part of you wonders if he does it on purpose, gives you just enough stimulation to cruelly tease you before going stock still once more. 

The small, unnoticeable to everyone but you, hitches of his breath tell you otherwise and deep down, you know he’s just as affected as you, no doubt steadily leaking into you, though you dare not consider the thought for very long. 

“Aemond,” your breath catches in your throat as Otto directs his attention to your husband, everyone else's gaze quickly following, “Any further communications from Dorne?”

Behind you, your husband clears his throat and you feel him shift beneath you, sitting up slightly straighter in his seat, both hands now clasping your waist to keep you steady on top of him. “Negotiations with the Dornish remain stagnant,” he begins as you practically wilt on his lap, the added attention from the council members making the knot in your belly tighten in a way you shudder to consider, “We received a raven from Prince Qoren some days ago rejecting any dealings with the crown, no matter the amount of coin we have to offer.” He finishes, pointedly looking at Tyland, who proceeds to butt in.

As soon as the attention shifts off of the two of you, it’s like the air around Aemond changes, becoming charged all of a sudden as you feel his chest heave against your back. At the other end of the table, Tyland begins to raise his voice, debating hotly with Corlys and Otto, drawing the attention of everyone else to them. 

“Do you think you can be still?” Aemond whispers, his breath hot against your ear although his voice is barely audible even to you. He must sense you freeze on his lap as the hand on your hip begins to move slowly, dragging your skirts up your legs until his hand can slip underneath them, making you tremble as he grips the soft skin of your thigh, “Tighten around my cock if you can be still.”

Against your better judgment, you do as he says, tensing as you clench your walls around him; his only reply is a low growl against your back. He stays still for a moment, trying with all of his might to appear as if he’s taking great interest in the ongoing argument taking place. 

Finally, once he’s positive everyone is too preoccupied arguing over coin to pay attention to either of you, his deft fingers slip through your folds before finally twirling against your aching pearl. 

You have to bite harshly at the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, trying to keep your breathing steady as you focus on not moving even though you so badly want to rut your hips against his fingers as they rub against you. 

Aemond swallows thickly behind you as he slowly circles his fingers, careful to keep his pace light and steady to not stir up any slick sounds from your wet cunt, though he longs to hear them. 

Your elbows rest against the top of the table, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. The conversation around you seems to shift as Otto begins prattling on about some Tyrell woman finally being with child. Aemond’s fingers suddenly pinch at your sensitive bud and a gasp tumbles past your lips before you can stop it, drawing everyone’s attention. 

“Is everything alright, princess?” Alicent questions from across the table, her dark eyes narrowed with concern. 

You nod quickly, coughing to conceal a moan as you open your mouth to answer her, “Y-Yes, I’m sorry,” you apologize with a weak smile, “I’m just so pleased for the Tyrells, what a j-joyous time this must be for them.” You say quickly, stumbling over the words as your core clenches tightly around your husband’s cock, his small touches driving you steadily to your peak despite the circumstances. 

Alicent gives you a curious look before quickly collecting herself, “Yes, I’m sure the family is quite thankful, children are always such a blessing,” she smiles politely before turning back to her father, “Please, continue.” 

Otto’s voice hardly reaches your ears as he picks up where he left off, though you don’t miss the horribly put out looks you garner from Tyland and Corlys. 

Aemond’s fingers just barely speed up as they swirl over your bud, though the small change is enough to drive you wild and you can feel the way his chest heaves against your back as your walls twitch around his length, threatening to milk his cock dry without him having to move an inch. 

The heat that has slowly been building within you finally begins to bubble over and your husband’s fingers show no signs of stopping as he pushes you closer and closer to your breaking point. The hand of his that has been resting idly on the table top comes over to casually rest against your clenched hands and rubs soothingly up and down your forearm, Aemond’s silent way of telling you he knows you’re close. 

Your eyes flick around the room as you feel your peak threatening to spill over you, frantically checking for any onlookers at the last possible second. You nearly jump out of your skin as your eyes finally land on Aegon, only to find him already staring at you, an amused smirk plastered across his face as he studies you. 

Aemond chooses that exact second to pinch at your pearl again and the small touch is your undoing. Your teeth bite down firmly on your tongue as your walls pulse rhythmically around your husband’s leaking cock, your eyes still locked on Aegon’s violet ones, now darkened with lust. 

Your muscles tense up as you peak helplessly, waves of pleasure lighting up every nerve ending within you. Somehow, you find it within yourself to remain quiet and still on Aemond’s lap as your eyes finally flick away from his older brother’s and you gaze, apparently absentmindedly, at some point on the wall on the opposite side of the room as your high subsides. 

Thankfully, Aemond takes pity on you and slips his hand away, his wet fingers resting gently in your bare thigh, still underneath your gown. 

You slowly come down from your high as the Small Council winds down, Aegon and Otto quickly discussing a few final points before the king formally adjourns the meeting. Tyland and Corlys practically bolt from their chairs, quickly bowing before they exit as they mumble between themselves, no doubt about the displeasure of your presence. 

Otto and Maester Orwyle take their leave soon after, each bowing politely. Aegon busies himself at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair as he lazily sips from his wine cup, the gleam in his eyes making you shiver. 

Across the room, Alicent and Larys whisper between themselves. Strangely, your mother-in-law blushes, shaking her head suddenly and mumbling a quiet, “Not here,” before glancing around the room.

Larys merely shrugs, turning to you as he shuffles from the room, “Do get better soon, princess.” He says with a feeble bow, although the look on his face makes you blush heavily. 

At that, Alicent turns to Aegon, “Would you care to come see the children with me?”

“Go on,” he dismisses her before nodding toward you and Aemond, “I wish to have a word with my brother.” He catches your eye with a quick wink. 

“Of course,” Alicent mutters, glancing curiously between the three of you, “I’ll ask the maids to bring some tea to your chambers this evening, princess. They make a wonderful lemon one that always seems to lift my spirits.” She says with a kind smile, coming around to place a comforting hand on your shoulder before she too heads to the door. 

“Thank you!” You breathily call after her, voice squeaking at the end as Aemond shuffles impatiently beneath you, his cock still prodding against your sensitive walls. 

Aegon chuckles darkly as soon as the doors close once more, standing from his chair with a wide smirk. “I must say, I’m impressed,” he taunts, eyes glinting as he looks between you and his brother, “I didn’t think either of you had that much gaul in you.” 

“What exactly are you tittering about now?” Aemond asks lowly behind you, his voice rough and choppy as his patience clearly wears thin. 

Sniggering, Aegon saunters around to stand beside you, violet eyes scanning over your laps still concealed under the table, “You’ve had your cock in her the whole time, have you not?” He teases, laughing harder still as Aemond merely hums in response, “Come brother, you should be proud of yourself,” he clasps a hand over your husband's shoulder, “She was nearly falling apart when she peaked.” He comments with a final wink as he ambles to the door, stopping to throw one last amused look over his shoulder, “You might want to do something about that bite mark on your shoulder.” He says casually before slamming the doors closed behind him. 

At his comment, you whirl around and your eyes grow wide as you spy a clear impression of your teeth marks in the leather of Aemond’s tunic, on his shoulder where you’d bitten down earlier. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of it being there throughout the entire meeting. 

You don’t have long to dwell on the thought though as your husband roughly pushes you from his lap until you’re bent over the table, cheek pressed to the cool stone surface. “Seven!” You sequel as he unceremoniously shoves his cock back inside you, his hips pumping wildly as his hands grasp at your waist harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. 

“Fucking finally,” he grunts, eyeing the way his cock disappears into your slick heat as he bunches your gown up over your ass, “‘M not gonna last.” He warns lowly, already panting with the speed of his thrusts. 

Your head spins once again as his cock moves within you, his pace nearly bruising. Your teeth sink into the skin of your forearm as you desperately try to keep quiet, another peak already welling up within you. 

Aemond growls and quickly threads the fingers of one hand through your hair, making you whine loudly as he pulls your head back until his chest is once again pressed against you, his other hand coming to rub against your abused pearl once more. 

“Aemond!” You moan, shaking your head in his grasp, one hand braced against the table as the other grabs at his forearm, feeling his muscles twitch as his fingers swirl against your center, “P-Please, I cannot keep myself quiet, I know I can’t—“ You start babbling. 

“Let them fucking hear,” he growls, eye squeezing shut as he feels his stones tightening up, “The whole keep can listen for all I fucking care, I won’t be stopping this time.” 

Your eyes roll back in your head at his words, never having heard him sound this possessed and overcome with pleasure before. After only a few more thrusts, you feel your walls twitch once more, a loud gasp rattling through your chest, “H-Husband, I’m—!”

“That’s it,” Aemond groans, redoubling his efforts against your pearl as he continues to rut into you at a nearly inhuman pace. “Peak, sweetling,” he commands, his voice low and raspy in your ear, “Peak while I breed your precious cunt.” 

His words nearly take your breath away and you whine loudly as another high washes over you, your walls milking your husband’s cock as they clench and pulse against it. 

Behind you, Aemond groans lowly, grunting as his cock twitches strongly inside you, his thick seed flooding into your heat as he finally, finally peaks, the pleasure of it making him dizzy as he leans against your back, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. 

The two of you are quiet for a moment, your tired pants the only sounds in the chambers. Finally, Aemond untangles his fingers from your hair, both of his hands coming to rest against the cool table as he finally pulls his cock from your center, soothing you with soft shushes when you whine, the emptiness in your core such a foreign feeling after being filled for so long. 

He sinks into his chair once more and pulls you with him, wrapping a protective arm around your waist as you rest your head on his shoulder. Once your breathing is steady, you pick your head up, a displeased groan tumbling from your throat as you see your bite mark more clearly up close, a finger coming up to trace over the intents in the black leather. 

“I’ll need to send this to the seamstress for repairs,” you whisper with an apologetic sigh, “I believe this is beyond my ability to fix.” 

Aemond chuckles beneath you, lilac eye gleaming with pride as he clasps a hand over yours as it still rests on his shoulder, “Don’t trouble yourself with it, my love.” 

“What?” You question, smiling despite the way you tilt your head in confusion, “Aemond, I cannot fix it myself and I’m afraid the mark will not simply go away—,” 

“You misunderstand me, sweetling,” he says, smiling as he looks down at you, “I intend to keep it as a mark of great pride. I shall wear it as a trophy for all to see.” He explains with a teasing laugh. 

You playfully smack a hand against his chest, which only makes him laugh harder, “You can’t be serious!” You admonish with a wide smile.

“Why? I simply wish to remember this day,” he chuckles, “The day I made my sweet wife peak in front of the Gods and everyone.” 

“Aemond!” You cannot help the surprised laugh that leaves you, “You’re as disgusting as your brother!”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @demirunner @eponaartemisa @trshngyn

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[adragonprinceswhore]

Romancer I Teaser

Aemond Targaryen x Wife

Summary: During King Aegon II tumultuous coronation, Aemond’s wife becomes the first casualty of the Targaryen civil war. The young prince’s grief drives him to Flea Bottom, where he meets a mysterious Qartheen necromancer, who promises to bring his love back. But as with any sorcery, there is a price to pay; with each of Aemond’s touches, she slowly rots away.

Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, death, violence, sorcery, necromancy, angst, longing, smut

A/N: A Halloween fic for all my horror lovers! 🖤

He holds her until the heat of her body leaves her. Until she’s cold as ice in his grip. Stiff and strange.

Only once does he glance down at her, and to his horror, she’s changed. It’s not her anymore.

The soft cheeks he used to trace his fingers down are now hollow. Her skin is discoloured, and her eyes lifeless. Almost white, like the soul has left them and in its wake, a mist settles over the grave that once was a loving gaze.

Prince Aemond sits like that, with her lifeless, rigid body in his arms, for too long.

He cannot tell how many hours have passed, but he knows that he has lost a day when the sun appears, and disappears. It feels like an eternity trapped in the blink of an eye.

No one dares approach him. They know that the fiery prince will show no mercy to whoever chooses to disturb his mourning.

So he’s left alone in his devastation, until he cannot bear it any longer.

His fingers are blue from the cold air enveloping him in an embrace so chilling, it rattles his bones.

His love has also turned impossibly cold in his hold. Colder than the freezing, blue burn of a dragon’s flame.

When he can no longer withstand the chill, he finally stands. His legs almost give in and every inch of his body hurts. Still, he persists, never letting his love fall to the ground as he keeps a secure hold around her.

She is heavier than anything he’s ever carried before. He knows her, and this is not her. How many times had he not lifted her onto their bed? Pulled her in his lap? This sack of flesh weighs far more than she ever did, and yet he cannot let go. So he persits, and carries her to their chambers, sacrificing his own aching limbs in the process.

When he thinks he might pass out from the effort, he reaches their marital bed, and lays her on top of it.

Tenderly, he places her arms on her stomach, brushes her hair from her face, and closes her eyes.

She’s merely sleeping, nothing more. Nothing permanent, nothing everlasting.

Soon, she’ll open her eyes, look up at him, and give him a smile that melts his heart. Until then, he carefully places a quilt over her, and lies down next to her to find sleep, as husband and wife, just like so many nights before.

Full fic coming October 31st!

Edit: Find the full fic here

[entitled-fangirl]

A King in the North. (P2)

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT

Summary: the reader and Cregan made true of their promises

Warnings: p in v, cockwarming, dom!Cregan

Part 1

Masterlist

.......................................

Cregan sat there anxiously, the seconds feeling like minutes, and the minutes feeling like hours. 

But she did show.

He left the door cracked open, and she took that as an open invitation, her fingers gripping the door to open it just a little further to let herself in.

Cregan's eyes moved to her, and a broad smile appeared. "I was getting worried."

She flushed. "I had to… clean up… after myself. You understand."

His head tilted and he studied her admiringly. She was so pretty after all. 

"Does the king still invite me in?" She asked softly. 

His smile only grew as he pushed his chair back, and gestured to his lap.

She happily closed the door and stepped to his table filled with paper. "I can't imagine any of this being interesting in any form."

He hummed and tossed one of the papers further out of the table. "It's only boring to an eager girl with other things on her mind."

Her eyes glowed under the light coming from the candles on his desk and the fireplace that burned steady. 

"Have you come to stare or to warm me, wife?"

The only change in her was the darting of her tongue across her bottom lip. "Is my Northern King chilled so easily?"

He groaned softly at the name. "Very easily. If only he had a pretty girl to help ease his mind."

She took the initiative, pulling one leg on the side of his chair, then the other, throwing her arms around her neck. "He does," she grinned. "She can ease more than that, I hope."

He went in for a tentative kiss, but she was growing hungry, crashing her lips to his and tugging at his hair immediately. 

He was startled. Cregan Stark was startled. He grabbed her biceps to gain his bearings then began to relax, kissing back eagerly.

A soft whine ran from her lips as he dared to lift one thigh up just enough to rub at her still sensitive core. 

He broke the contact of this lips to tease her. "Can you take me already, you think? If I pull this cloak off and your nightgown up, will I find you drench in the thought of me?"

Her breath hitched at his filthy words and a scarlet color ran up her face, heating her neck. 

"Is that a yes?"

Beating him to it, she began to reach up and tug at the string of her cloak. It fell and just as it did, she was pulling her soft nightgown up to her thighs. She hesitated. 

"Keep going."

She hummed in acknowledgment but didn't quite lift it high enough for him to see. 

She knew. 

He dared to lift his thigh up again and it hit her core softly, causing a breathy squeal from her. 

And though his couldn't see it, he felt a warm sensation over his pant leg. 

He grinned at that. 

"I think me interrupting your little playtime has had an effect on you, hasn't it?"

"Gods, please don't tease me anymore," she pleaded softly. 

He tilted his head and shrugged. "I'm here to work. And I intend to do so."

Though it was a struggle to him, Cregan leaned forward and looked over her shoulder at the pages that laid out in front of him. 

She looked over her shoulder with him, almost as if to make sure he was being serious. 

And as she did so, a hand of his came from the other side and began to rub at the back of her head. "Find something useful to do," he lightly scolded. 

She hummed, to engrossed in the feeling of his hand in her hair, pulling her away from reality and into his touch alone. 

When he didn't get the response he wanted, he tugged. "Will you do so or will I force you to? Seems time alone has soiled your brain. So longing for me that you cannot force a thought."

Both of his hands moved to her waist and he picked her up just a bit to resettle her, now with only one of his thighs between her legs. He forced her hips down, relishing in her whine when it met her core again. 

"Find whatever it is that you're craving so badly, sweet girl."

"Cre-"

"Ah," he chided again. "That's not the name you used earlier, was it?"

She hesitated before completely giving in to it. She kissed at his jaw. "T-Torrhen." She nipped at him. "My king."

" 'My king' will do just fine, for now. That's all I want to hear," he commanded. He said it with no second thoughts, none seemingly about her as his eyes were glued to the papers in front of him. 

She kissed at his neck now, trying to make him see reason. "My king, I cannot- ah."

His thigh came up again, taking her breath from her lungs. 

"Let your king work," he reprimanded under his breath.

As embarrassing as it made her at first, she knew Cregan wasn't truly being heartless. And she knew she had more of his attention that he wanted to admit. 

So she lowered herself to his thigh, giving into the temptation. 

Her hips worked back and forth, rubbing her bare clit just right against his pant leg. Cregan had to physically bite back a grin.

Then when he began to tap his leg against the ground, she felt lightning shoot up her spine. 

She gripped his tunic and tucked her face into his neck, ashamed to let too much noise slip out from her lips. 

Cregan picked up papers, scanned them over, threw them back onto the table. He didn't read any of them. He couldn't focus enough. The words blurred across the page, the ink once making perfect sense and now? He couldn't register anything but the small noises coming from the woman on his lap. 

That, and the warmth that was spreading across the fabric on his leg. 

A certain rub of her hips made a small groan come from her throat, and Cregan's smile grew.

"You're disrupting my important work, wife."

She huffed under her breath at that and continued her movement, now becoming more and more insistent on chasing the high that had begun to form in her lower belly.

Cregan put a hand on her back. "Be good."

She nipped at his jaw in retaliation but he pretended to not notice. 

He leaned forward again, reaching out to grab a quill and ink, dipping the former into the latter to begin a letter. 

Prince Jac-

The quill scribbled with the quiver of his hand. 

Her own hand had found its way to his trousers, beginning to untie them. 

How he ached for her touch. 

"I'm writing."

"Are you?" She looked over her shoulder. "I hadn't noticed."

"You difficult girl. Let me work," he laughed. 

"Oh." Her face fell mockingly. "I'll return to my chambers. I wouldn't want to bother the king while he w-"

He gripped her hips tightly, almost as if fearing she really would leave if he let go. "Stay."

It wasn't a command. It was a plea. 

She couldn't continue even teasing with the idea of leaving, leaning herself against his chest once more. 

Once he felt her relaxed, he willed one of his hands to try writing again. 

Prince Jacaerys,  I find the winters of the Nort-

She tugged at the ties of his trousers again, laying a soothing tongue and kisses over his jawline as she did so.

She pulled the fabric aside, setting his cock free from its restraints. 

Not even caring for foreplay, she threw her leg over his, now fully straddling him again. 

Her hand lined him to her core, and Cregan held his quill away from the paper, knowing that he could never have a steady hand during what was coming next. 

The woman sunk herself down onto his cock, an open mouth as she did so. 

Cregan didn't notice that though. His eyes were closed as he fought back the idea of taking her on the table. 

She easily took half of him, pausing to catch her breath and adjust. 

"C'mon," Cregan whispered. 

She gasped softly as she pushed herself further down onto him. 

Though she'd taken him multiple times, each one felt better than the last. 

Especially after such a long time apart from their nights together. 

"Touch yourself," he lightly commanded.

She had no fight in her, licking her fingers and moving it between her legs. 

Her other hand was braced on his chest and she began to lift herself up again. 

Cregan grabbed her waist tightly, the quill still captured between his index and middle finger. He held her there, keeping her still on his cock. 

She let off a soft shudder that he saw move from her shoulders until he felt the tightening in her walls. 

"You're keeping me company, aren't you? Then sit still and let me work," he reprimanded. 

She tucked her face into his neck again, trying to keep her breathing calm and her whimpers light. 

He knew he was going to give into her whims soon, he just had to finish this letter. 

With each shift or turn of Cregan's body, he could feel more and more of his wife's restraint dwindling.

He even once experimented, thrusting his hips up lightly and not even bothering to hide the sheer joy on his face when she cried out in restraint.

His handwriting was messy, but he didn't care. 

The letter was quickly done, and he threw the quill aside before ravaging her. 

…

The next day, she got dressed, trying to ignore the soreness between her legs or the boards that still kept the balcony off limits. 

She'd have to tease him for it later now that she understood. 

She wandered into the library where she knew he'd be. 

But when she walked in, he wasn't there. Luckily, there were the remnants of his once being there- the open ink bottle, the warm chair. 

He'd return soon. 

So she walked around the table, until her eyes set on a page that caught her interest. 

Prince Jacaerys,  I find the winters of the North often too cold, but this season, I fear that I do not mind it. Warmth is a great blessing when it is within your grasp.  I pray that you one day find warmth of your own. Though Dragonstone fairs wonderfully on any day and the seasons remain as they are, cold is not something I wish upon you.  As we begin this war, the days away from your betrothed will seem like years. The cold seeps into the bone and the drear in the thought of living alone can become too much to bare.  But imagine the glow that radiates from the woman waiting for you to return. The pain will be worth it in the end, I swear to you.   After the death of my brother, I feared I'd have no one to give my northern advice to. Not like a brother can. And I'm glad I have one in you.   I'll have my lady write to Princess Baela soon. I know how she longs for her letters.  Enjoy the warmth, my prince. Enjoy it well. Lord Cregan Stark

"I do hope he can read my writing," he quipped from the doorway. 

She gasped, and looked up. 

It was true. His handwriting was so shaky, it was barely legible. 

Jace wouldn't know why though. 

"It's a wonderful letter," she smiled.

He nodded. "It's a truthful one at least."

"When you go, I'll miss you most dreadfully," she admitted longingly.

"Just keep our bed warm and I'll return to you. Always. Plus," he adds with a teasing smirk. "I leave you in comfort that you'll find some release on your own, hmm?"

He then laughed heartily at her reddish cheeks.

..................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname

[heremomohere]

*At least you don't have to drink coffee anymore. *The price is the anger/disappointment/excitement of some automaton?

It depicts Sunny cooking and cleaning at YN's house, and the description is quite brief, so I won't include it here. If you're interested, feel free to check it out on AO3!

For a coffee lover, extremely bitter coffee is still a type that I cannot bear, so I choose to pour it away.

Sunny is casual wear! Not work roller skating gear! (Oh, I'm surprised I haven't seen anyone draw this set yet, so I drew it.)

Spadspad, please update soon! I can't live without LDR! Look at my update speed! This is the most addicted I've ever been to novels in my life! 重试    错误原因

LDR belongs to @spadillelicious!!!!

[visenyaism]

They butchered Alicent so bad

oh i LOVED her this episode. some of the execution was a little clunky in places but moving the blood and cheese “pick which of your kids are dying” moment to be a conversation between rhaenyra and alicent was sooo fucking choice in a way i really found compelling.

like aegon this episode, alicent has been realizing she doesn’t know what the fucking point of all of this has been. again like aegon because they were raised in a deeply ableist society she cannot conceive of aegon where he isn’t the king she cannot wrap her head around what he’s supposed to be now all of the suffering she bore to get him to this point was for nothing. aemond is acting scary and out of control to the extent that he is an active threat to her and her other children she does not know him anymore.

she gets out loud explicitly asked by rhaenyra to resolve the dilemma that has been her entire character: she either has to choose her children or her relationship with rhaenyra. otto has been drilling this into alicent’s head since she was a child, alicent has been drilling it into her children’s heads since THEY were children. rhaenyra was the only one who pretended that wouldn’t be a choice forced on alicent! so then rhaenyra is the one to demand this of her it’s CRAZY. and alicent, who has been trapped for almost her whole life who has done everything expected of her and has been left with what? so much blood on her hands, everyone hates her, no one listens to her,and the children that she had to bear the conception and raising of against her will are unrecognizable to her. this war is transactional and will not stop until everyone is dead.

and alicent does something fundamentally selfish and cut them loose in the name of all of this just being over. she wants to be a person again. she can’t tell the difference between being her own and being rhaenyra’s those are the same to her. and then she steps out to look at the wide open sky, out of her cage for the first time ever while rhaenyra settles deeper into hers. that’s so interesting. 

the consequence being that she never had control of the narrative! but she’s still punished for this in how this story is told. she’s largely written into the background of the historical record and when she’s there she’s a caricature of a cold ambitious stepmother-queen. they’re trying really hard to reckon with the historical record as history is happening.

overall, I think I can understand why people are upset about this, but I loved it. I thought it was really compelling and there could’ve been a bit more buildup to that moment for her but I don’t think it’s that far out from her previous characterization at all.