#feel free to take this if you feel so inclined

[aroceu]

yes!!

i've been putting a lot of free time lately just finding more stuff (and also because it's fun for me) so here's another list of some tools.

here are some guides! they do go through a lot so i recommend reading at your own pace, and you can even start projects on the side based on what you know rather than trying to read and absorb them all at once. i usually like using guides as references more than a how-to manual before starting anything, but for the very basics it's usually a good place to start.

Interneting Is Hard (but it doesn't have to be), a guide on the raw basics of what a website is and how to make one, written casually and friendly for beginners

Marksheet, a thorough and introductory website on how to make a website, from starting with the basic stuff to introducing more complex techniques

The Quick ‘n’ Dirty Guide to Making a Website, a guide for how and why you should make a website, geared primarily towards artists/creatives

sadgrl online's webmastery resources, particularly: the what you see is what you get layout maker (no coding required), and html & css snippets, which i have heard great things about

petrapixel's layout generator, which also allows you to customize and generate your own layout with no coding required

web design in 4 minutes by jeremy thomas, an introductory tutorial on thinking about webdesign/website structure

tutorials at htmldog, which was my primary place in learning how to make a website in like... 2008. and yet they're still so relevant today

make your own website, a beginner's guide to making one's own website. it was written for the writer's 12 year old child if that may be less intimidating than the rest of these guides

other sitely resources!

easily download your ao3 fics for archival purposes and if you want to reupload them

owls' guide to webshrines, if you're ever interested in or have considered making in the shrine in the form of a website for something you really like and are a fan of! from a fannish perspective this has always been common among fan-inclined indie website makers - people just want to make websites dedicated to things they love, because hey, that's what the rest of us are doing in fandom anyway. this guide goes into detail how, why, and some suggestions for how to make a fan shrine!

how to make your first randomizer at lions-garb.net. you can make a randomizer through just inputting the stuff, sure, but this is a small guide on how to do it on the backend so you can also make your own randomizers while also making them look pretty on the internet.

resources list for the personal web, a very extensive list of a variety of webweaving resources, from tutorials to code snippets to tips to ideas! it may seem very daunting so i recommend just skimming it and seeing what catches your eye first, there's no chronological way to learn things once you have the very basics down

kalechips's layout thrift store, which has a bunch of free codes already created as basic web templates that anyone can feel free to take and adjust and edit and learn from to their liking! there's a lot of different already preset layouts so you don't have to worry about that part, and learn and modify them (if you want) instead

petrapixel's coding self-study checklist, a thorough list of some webdev coding necessities that hobbyists may have i missed (i know have!)

and if you get to the point where you want your website to feel like part of a community as much as you are, you can join a web ring!

the fic ring for self-hosted fanfic sites

the fandom webring, a webring for any webmasters in fandom

here's a consistently updated list of current indie web-rings!

In the wake of the TikTok ban and revival as a mouthpiece for fascist propaganda, as well as the downfall of Twitter and Facebook/Facebook-owned platforms to the same evils, I think now is a better time than ever to say LEARN HTML!!! FREE YOURSELVES FROM THE SHACKLES OF MAJOR SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS AND EMBRACE THE INDIE WEB!!!

You can host a website on Neocities for free as long as it's under 1GB (which is a LOT more than it sounds like let me tell you) but if that's not enough you can get 50GB of space (and a variety of other perks) for only $5 a month.

And if you can't/don't want to pay for the extra space, sites like File Garden and Catbox let you host files for free that you can easily link into NeoCities pages (I do this to host videos on mine!) (It also lets you share files NeoCities wouldn't let you upload for free anyways, this is how I upload the .zip files for my 3DS themes on my site.)

Don't know how to write HTML/CSS? No problem. W3schools is an invaluable resource with free lessons on HTML, CSS, JavaScript, PHP, and a whole slew of other programming languages, both for web development and otherwise.

Want a more traditional social media experience? SpaceHey is a platform that mimics the experience of 2000s MySpace

Struggling to find independent web pages that cater to your interests via major search engines? I've got you covered. Marginalia and Wiby are search engines that specifically prioritize non-commercial content. Marginalia also has filters that let you search for more specific categories of website, like wikis, blogs, academia, forums, and vintage sites.

Maybe you wanna log off the modern internet landscape altogether and step back into the pre-social media web altogether, well, Protoweb lets you do just that. It's a proxy service for older browsers (or really just any browser that supports HTTP, but that's mostly old browsers now anyways) that lets you visit restored snapshots of vintage websites.

Protoweb has a lot of Geocities content archived, but if you're interested in that you can find even more old Geocities sites over on the Geocities Gallery

And really this is just general tip-of-the-iceberg stuff. If you dig a little deeper you can find loads more interesting stuff out there. The internet doesn't have to be a miserable place full of nothing but doomposting and targeted ads. The first step to making it less miserable is for YOU, yes YOU, to quit spending all your time on it looking at the handful of miserable websites big tech wants you to spend all your time on.

[citrus-kiddo]

Sorry to those it may disappoint but for the sake of my mental health I will be deleting this blog on the 5th. You all are lovely people and I'm so happy I could meet you but I am putting an end to this chapter of my life. If you are a mutual and would like to stay in contact, dm me and I'll share other socials if I feel inclined to do so. As for my ocs, feel free to take them as your own (except for Natas, I removed all mention of him for a reason), I don't mind, think of it as a gift.

This is nobody's fault, it is my choice. That is all, thank you for stopping by, have fun :3

[hideawayfairy]

Just a couple of bits of dialogue I had in my head for the Starlet AU. (Realistically, it doesn't have to be exclusive to this AU; it can be used for any Fizzarozzie/Fizzmodeus story; feel free to use for your own works!)

Fizz, to Mammon: It's going well, sir! Asmodeus seems to really like me!

Mammon: Of course he does, my boy! You're the face of my brand! I'm doing him a favor lending you out to him. But more importantly, he's giving me free advertisement!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Sometime later when Ozzie confesses to Fizz

Fizz, tearfully and with a sad smile: Oh, Asmodeus. You don't love me. You love my brand.

[deadpoetsandlivinglegends]

Petition to make Dream Boy by Beach Bunny THE Anderperry song

[icewindandboringhorror]

Just curious what the average level of personal investment in these sorts of things is. Like, how much do people usually get into silly stuff like this their friends ask of them? etc. etc. Which I know, only surveying a small sample on a very specific website means I'm not getting an exact average idea lol, but.. curious nonetheless .. Maybe reblog for bigger sample size but also this is not very serious at all/not worth a call to action gbhjbhjb

[ace-geographer]

At this rate I'm gonna have a text post meme for every single frame of this show by the end of the year

Part 16/?

[cowardlybean]

Commissions Open!

Important information:

Please fill out this form for commissions

I will be taking 3 slots and will review the form on March 12

This is my first time taking online commissions

Please be aware you may not be selected, this is a trial run for me and I will not take all requests!

I only take Venmo

WILL DO:

Furry

Animals

Fanart (for most fandoms, whether I am in them or not)

OCs with references

Detailed gore (NOT guro)

Ships (including OC x canon)

WON'T DO:

NSFW

Suggestive/fetish content

proship

OCs without reference

Traditional art

Prices:

Doodles- $5, +1 per additional character over 2

Linework- $25-30, +20 for detailed background, +5 per additional character

Render- $30-40, +10 per extra character, I am NOT taking complex backgrounds for this category

[lyssentome]

My theory about the boop button is that people like it MILES more than the interaction buttons because: a) instant gratification in the form of CATS and b) it is much less intimidating than the interaction buttons because everybody and their mom was doing it and also because people were making posts about how much they love to be booped

(Also that it has no consequence on how their blog looks like aesthetically, which I also think one of the biggest reasons for why people prefer likes over reblogs among the other reasons. It's just silly fun without possible judgement.)

[webism]

pornstar!nanami who has a signature style to his videos—all of which are solo content consisting of him, manspreading in front of the camera in an awfully expensive suit. as his hands trace the muscles of his thighs, the seams of his trousers, the outline of his hardened cock.

pornstar!nanami who always takes his time getting to the good stuff, his voice silken as he speaks to those watching him. praise falls from his lips, which are always just out of view—the man doesn't dare show his face. something about professionalism and all.

pornstar!nanami whose videos usually end with him cumming into his closed fist, or into a toy if he's feeling so inclined. as a long time viewer of him, you've come to learn a few things about how he orgasms—he always bucks his hips up, chasing that instinct to breed. he always moans like he's in heat just before his climax, but because he's not great with breathing through his orgasms he chokes up just as he falls over the edge—it's a pretty sound.

pornstar!nanami who sometimes gets messy with it—he's such an organised and ritualistic man in his day-to-day that he sometimes just wants to let loose. sometimes, he'll only pull his cock out of his pants through the fly, and let the world watch as his precum dribbles all over those pressed pants of his. oh and does he go feral knowing that he's dirtying something so expensive with the receipts of his lust. who will stroke himself to completion just to watch his cum stain the fabric he's worked so hard to afford—there's no explaining that away to a drycleaner.

pornstar!nanami who likes to imagine it's a pretty thing riding his thigh that wrecks his trousers. wonders how many of his viewers touch themselves to his videos, hoping the could take him for all he's worth as well.

pornstar!nanami who, after a particularly messy session one day, gets an email after uploading his video. it's not even been ten minutes, which was the length of his video, so he assumes whoever has emailed him came particularly fast to that one.

pornstar!nanami who was more than right in his assumption. because as his eyes rake over the email sent by an adoring fan, he sees about a million different typos that indicate nothing other than messy fingers and a fucked-dumb typist. in your barely legible email, you explain that Mr. Nanamis videos are tagged 'near-you', and you'd happily offer your services as the next sex toy he uses to fuck-and-film in exchange for an orgasm or three.

and oh is pornstar!nanami intrigued. because his life is a busy one, he's a businessman when the sun is up time is precious and human connection is a scheduling conflict—his videos aren't solo out of preference, poor nanami, the pornstar, is a virgin.

pornstar!nanami who, after a few weeks of back and forth and some genuine conversation, ends up with his camera flashing red as you sit naked on his lap. and oh are you happy with the sight of him, blonde and sculpted to perfection underneath those lovely suits of his. Your ass is on display to anyone watching, upper half out of shot as your teeth clash with his.

pornstar!nanami who can't help the sounds he makes when you grind against his clothed cock. your slick, your pooling lust, it smears over the fabric of his pants and leaves a gloss behind in turn. he's ravenous, holding onto your hips and grinding you down against him in all the right ways. who moans into your mouth, already a little pussydrunk and he's barely had a taste of you.

pornstar!nanami who hopes he isn't unseemly in the way he manhandles you to sit properly on his lap. he knows you're as desperate as he is, what with the way you slip your hands down to undo his belt and pull his cock free. your fingers wrapped around his length is enough of a narcotic to cum on the spot, though he steadies his reeling mind and holds out.

pornstar!nanami who offers to fuck you on his fingers first, to use his tongue to warm you up and get you ready for his, frankly overbearing, size. but you're insistent, eager, and lowering yourself onto his aching cock with a kiss to his lips and a sharp inhale shared between you.

pornstar!nanami who thanks whatever god may be out there for letting him film a glimpse of heaven.

pornstar!nanami who can barely keep himself together as you ride him like he's the toy at hand. he's sure he's never been this vocal for his viewers, moaning alone is a feat that is hot at best and hauntingly awkward at worst—this, though—he's never been so mindless. and you love it. all the videos you've watched where his voice is smooth and confident and he's the picture of put-together. having such a man, a gentleman like nanami, absolutely melting with each clench of your dripping pussy around his length? it's an aphrodisiac in itself.

and when you catch onto the fact that pornstar!nanami is about to cum—the bucking of his hips, those drawling moans, the hitch of his breath—you kiss him stupid, and then speak against his pretty swollen lips. 'breathe'

and oh does pornstar!nanami breathe. a desperate droning moan escapes his breath, right into your mouth as he empties himself inside of you like he's trying to give you his last name.

pornstar!nanami who can't help himself. flipping you over and onto your back, pressing you into the mattress as he continues to fuck into you. he's going to pull as many orgasms out of you as he can—it doesn't even register in his mind that, due to the new angle of your bodies, he's just let the world see his face, and the pretty pussy drunk blush that paints it pink.

[hanasnx]

“ I WAS MADE FOR LOVIN’ YOU ” — logan howlett.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ age gap ノ established relationship ノ size difference ノ suggestive content ノ sexual content: naughty daydreams about pussy eating, nipple play, and groping; masturbation; voyeurism.

“I’m gonna take care of you.” Those six words—six—have defined your relationship with your husband, LOGAN HOWLETT. There’s a great protector in him, this compulsion to mentor and house within him that stretches far beyond his own needs. You fall within that range, and as soon as you met him you latched onto him. It didn’t take long at all before your imprint was reciprocated. Now he thinks of you first in everything he does.

He may not always look it, but you’re a factor in all his decisions. Settling down, nabbing a good job—one that didn’t ask for his background—was all to put you up in a house in the mountains. Far away from civilization, an ivory tower made up of wood he cut himself, surrounded by acres of nature. He’s always thought of himself a hair on the wild side, somehow you tame that down. It’s good, he tells himself, you and him.

It’s a partnership, and all he wants out of you is your safety. He likes you where he can keep an eye on you, make sure you stay out of trouble, make sure you’re comfortable.

You wish you could explain just why he thinks he has to protect you, why he married you, why he pays all the bills and expects nothing in return. You wish you could explain just why this relationship comprises all facets of a real marriage except for intimacy.

Logan won’t touch you. You’ll eat off each other’s utensils, fall asleep on his chest on the couch watching a movie—hell, he’ll reluctantly incline in your direction with a roll of his eyes to let you peck his cheek good-bye when he leaves for work. Yet, he won’t even kiss you. Even before he married you, there wasn’t so much as a grope or a stray look.

There’s home in Logan. You live to please him. You’ll cook him whatever he wants, keep the house he built for you clean as a whistle, you’ll spend all your free time with him, grab him his nightly beer and light his cigar so he stays content—but you’ve never even seen him naked. You doubt you ever will. Regardless, you stay, you can’t imagine leaving this life, leaving him.

It’s defied your expectations the fairy-tales of your childhood gave you. Your knight in shining armor rescued you, yet refuses to plant even true love’s kiss. When you’d matured, you’d fantasized about an insatiable husband that found you so irresistible he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Logan’s never looked at you that way, even though he calls you his wife without hesitation, married you without a second thought.

“Is it because I’m younger than you? I’m only in my early twenties. That’s not a big deal!” you’ve reasoned with him, but he still treats you like you’re naive. He must want passion, you’re sure of that. Why else are you young and beautiful if not to take advantage of it while you still can? Just once you’d like to see him yearn for you, to show lack of restraint, to come home one day so hungry for you that you don’t make it out of the kitchen.

Those claws… those deadly metal claws… you wish he’d use them in fantastical and deviant ways. Just one would glide through your nighty like sheet paper, bareing you to your husband—a sight for him only. You lie awake next to him at night, envisioning raunchy dreams of him proudly boasting the size difference between you two, demonstrating his sheer raw strength by overpowering you and taking what he wants from you. You’ve run your fingers delicately over his lips and the rough pad of his shaved chin, but you can’t imagine just how good it’d feel against your tit, swirling his hot tongue around your perked nipple while his callused digits pinch the other. You can pretend his head is ducking between your thighs, the sensation of his soft hair tickling your skin and tangling in your fingers as his masculine jaw scratches the fragile tissue of your pussy. As starved as you are, even discomfort like that is enough to make you moan into your palm, only to check over your shoulder to make sure you still hear your husband’s snoring.

You steel yourself at the noise, the low rumbling of his sleep cautions you to stay quiet but to proceed nonetheless. Your hand creeps down your neck, your chest, your stomach… You really should leave the room, but you’d risk waking him up for real at the sound of the door. Instead, you fuck yourself yet again, the soft rocking of the mattress as you hump your own hand filling the ears of your kindhearted husband—who’s been awake this whole time.

[ubeb0nes]

Getting jealous (AGAIN) as Sevika's girlfriend...

you just can't catch a break, huh? your fault for falling in love with this absolute lady-killer

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a/n: ever since i remembered i have free will and can post all my sevika goblin thoughts i have been cooking entire posts up in like under an hour, somebody please help me LMAO

i had too many ideas for the jealous!reader, so here's another. i picture this as being my pit fighter!reader characterization, so do with that what you will :33

it isn't that you hate absolutely anybody looking at Sevika at all

like, you get it. and a part of you loves that everyone else can see just as clearly as you how absolutely captivating she is.

BUT IT GETS TO A POINT-

After the incident with the girl at the bar, Sevika does her best to make sure that you don't feel neglected in public. She slips, of course she does, but she does try like hell

It typically goes that anybody who approaches her, flat out doesn't acknowledge you. it's a by-product of how she's so non-PDA that it slips the mind of these thirsty women that she's even in a relationship

You, being a practical and results-driven individual, remedy this by being a little bolder in public every now and then

Nowadays, Sevika doesn't usually object. She understands why you're doing it now, and she's getting tired of the would-be homewreckers coming onto her too lol

You'll cup her cheek, give her a firm but quick kiss whenever you bring a drink over to her while she's in a game of cards. Come up beside her at the bar and rest your hand on her hip for a while (she fucking loves this one, she won't tell you though)

From then on, people start to get the message. If anybody's heartbroken over it, they become less inclined to showing it

So, you almost want to believe you're imagining things when you clock someone from across the bar who seems to keep giving you the stink eye

you're not dumb

you can see the way she's gesturing between you and Sevika to her friends, shaking her head in disgust. now that's a new one...

Sevika has her human arm over your shoulder while this is happening, the other holding onto her hand of cards. She looks over at you when you pluck the cigarillo out from her fingers and take a drag of your own in distress. She's deeply amused by this

"Okay, baby?" "Mhm. Peachy." You were not peachy. The hell did you do to deserve that look?

For a second Sevika thinks you're mad at her, frowning and angling her body towards you (she notices Ran trying to sneak a look at her cards as she does, and bucks playfully at them). Her eyes flick up to follow your line of vision, and then she understands

She chuckles under her breath.

"You could take her in a fight, princess."

oh, and don't you know it. You shake away the thought though, not wanting to escalate the situation in your head in the case that it's actually not at all what you think it is, and then you look stupid

You ask Sevika if she wants another whiskey and she declines, so you get up to just get yours. You're minding your business by the bar, trying to not grace that table with any more glances when that bites you in the ass as a shoulder checks yours

of course, it's the girl. I guess it wasn't in your head

You make eye contact with her when she looks over her shoulder at you and scoffs, shaking her head. You don't look away even as the bartender slides your drink into your hand

now, you have some options here. most of them include violence to some degree. you're contemplating them all as you're walking back to Sevika, eyes straight ahead

then you catch a few choice words from her table; something, something, "-can she fight..." you don't hear the rest, but does it really matter?

you stop in your tracks. you glance up at your girlfriend who didn't see what happened earlier but is watching you now, brow raised and mouthing what's wrong?

at this point, i don't think this even counts as jealousy, you're just defending your woman's honor

you give her a shake of your head that says don't worry (and now she's definitely worrying), and turn on your heel and make a beeline for the bitch's table

Sevika is about to get up to back you up- for whatever the situation may be- when she sees your posture as you stand over the girl from earlier.

Ran stops her though, grinning from ear to ear. "Let your girl have this, Sev. I wanna see her beat ass." Sevika scoffs, but tentatively sits back down. She trusts your judgement. Whatever your call is-

oh, you're smashing your glass over the girl's head. Ran gives a loud whoop

"You wanna take her from me? Go ahead, try," you'd said while Ran was talking Sevika down. The smile on your face was near-manic. "See what she does when you put your hands on me."

It's not like this woman was exactly tiny or helpless-looking; most in Zaun strived to be neither. But Sevika hadn't been lying when she said you could take her.

It was not a memo she'd received, though.

You couldn't recall what exactly she'd said, but you do know your mind reached an immediate state of singularity when she said she'd kill you before Sevika could do anything about it.

BET

"Goddammit-" Sevika barks out your name as she shoots up from her chair. Ran is doubled over with laughter

She's deceptively fast for her height, and thank fucking god for it. Her human arm wraps around your waist like a vise, pulling you back with ease

She would've been cutting up right with Ran in any other circumstance, given the way you were stancing on the now-dazed woman, fists clenched and shoulders shrugged up like an angry big cat

"Down, girl," she mutters to you. Her lips quirk up at the way you shift your jaw around, obviously still pissed off and ready to scrap

"I was defending your honor." "Mhm. What would I do without you, huh?"

Sevika's in front of you when the woman scrambles up out of her seat to retaliate. Sevika towers over the both of you, and you're nearly completely hidden behind her now as she glares at the woman

"You don't wanna fight her, much less me. Go ahead and clear off."

Maybe jealousy isn't as accurate of a term for you as territorial. You've got nothing to be jealous of, not with how fiercely devoted Sevika is at every turn

[tojicide]

⠀⠀ BOO! ☆ SYLUS QIN.

summary. the ruby wedding ring your ex-husband gave you should hold no meaning by now, so that was why you wore it on halloween night as an accessory to your costume. it shouldn’t be a big deal… right?

warnings. fem!reader. established history, pet names, jealousy, mutual degradation, spitting, fingering, oral ( fem. receiving ), unprotected p in v. wc. 3.2k.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⟡ masterlist | request

Dressing up as a vampire was a stroke of genius if you do say so yourself.

A black floor length dress with a mighty high leg slit with your makeup done to the nines…

After being showered with compliments and approached by men who fawned over you like their lives depended on it, you were almost inclined to believe that being this sexy should be punishable by law.

Luckily for you, it isn’t, and that’s exactly why you’re a free woman who is able to enjoy this wonderful Halloween night.

Strobe lights fan over the sea of people you’re currently floating in, the smell of alcohol and the musk of sweat and cologne swarming you entirely. Music blared over loud speakers, rendering you practically deaf to your surroundings, and perhaps that was why you hadn’t noticed your ex-husband approach you from behind.

“Boo,” he purrs into your ear as he dips his head just enough for his deep voice to be heard, his large hand snaking around your waist to spin you around.

Your smile immediately falters upon seeing the white-haired man who seems to make it his life goal to ruin any ounce of fun that you have without him. “Sylus,” you deadpan.

“Why, excuse me,” he replies through a dark chuckle. “I had no idea we were going to be so brash. Had I known,” he raises his hand to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger, “I would have tugged on these pretty locks of yours to get your attention instead.”

You raise your hand to pull his hand away from your hair, and that’s the moment when he sees it.

(Your ring. He’d recognize it anywhere, of course, he had it designed just for you.)

Sylus takes your hand in his, brushing his thumb over the garnet jewel that you loved so much. “Hm. What’s this?”

You hate how easy it is for him to pick up on such minuscule details about you. It makes you feel flattered, which is absolutely disgusting. You don’t want to feel flattered, not by your ex-husband of all people.

“A ring,” you reply, sliding your hand from his grasp. “An accessory to my costume.”

Sylus shortly hums, his red eyes giving you a once over as he pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Is it necessary to wear it on that finger in particular? You know the implications of such a thing.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s just a ring. It hardly means anything anymore.”

He bristles at that, raising a brow at you. It stung to hear, but he knew that you didn’t mean it. You knew how he was when it came to things of sentimental value—nothing ever lost its touch with him, especially when it came to you.

“Oh, how quickly you dismiss our love. Such a cruel woman you are,” he says, his voice dropping in octave as a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips.

“Cruel?” you repeat with a scoff. “Please.”

“Cruel indeed,” he insists, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back as he lures you closer to him. Perhaps he should have dressed as the vampire with his red, hypnotic eyes and all, but instead, he dressed as a boxer. “Although, I can’t say I dislike the idea of you parading around in my ring. Wards off the men.”

You can’t help snort at that. “Oh, right, because something as trivial as a ring would deter a man from a face as beautiful as this,” you muse, raising your hand to place a few smacks on his cheek. “In your dreams.”

Sylus chuckles at that. He truly should’ve known you and your sharp tongue wouldn’t be able to resist chuckling a few jabs his way. “I see you in my dreams as is, sweetie. I don’t need the sentiment.”

You scoff. “What you need to do is get a grip. I don’t know if you’ve lost your mind, but we are divorced. D-i-v-o-r-c-e-d. Divorced. Do you know what that means?”

That word hardly meant anything to him. He still wore his wedding ring and addressed you as his wife. He did it shamelessly.

“Such nasty words from such a pretty mouth,” he says through a sigh. “And no, I don’t know what that means. Pray tell.”

“It means that we leave each other alone,” you’re quick to reply. “I don’t want you anymore, Sylus.”

Sylus doesn’t like that idea, not one bit. He doesn’t care if he sounds like a broken record, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you alone. Perhaps he enjoyed pestering you, watching as that cute expression of annoyance etched across your face every time you ran into one another.

“You’re so pretty when you lie,” he murmurs.

You shortly huff. “You’d be prettier if you knew how to shut up.”

Sylus feigns offense, placing his hand over his chest. “You wound me.”

But he does take notice of the fact that you hadn’t denied his words. If anything, it stirs something within him. He isn’t sure what it is exactly, and before he can figure it out, you’re already walking away.

“Sweetie—”

“Don’t call me that,” you reply. His call out to you doesn’t deter you from your path, and before long, you’re already swimming in a sea of men who look like they want to devour you.

Sylus can’t blame them for their incredibly good taste in women, but what he can blame them for is their attraction to his wife.

He tries to obey your wishes, and he leaves you alone for a good… seven and a half minutes. And yes, he’s been counting, because each second that passes where you give another man your undivided attention is a second that he wants cut off from his lifespan.

He does his best, truly, he does. He even sent Luke and Kieran to fetch him a drink. He’s… partying. Yay.

It’s no use, though. Nothing could ever distract him from your presence. Hearing your laugh from across the room is like music to his ears, his favorite song that he cannot bear to part with.

But suddenly, everything shifts.

You’re… holding hands with another man. Not just any hand either.

And when you turn to make eye contact with Sylus, he’s already well on his way to you by the time that bastard’s lips lean in to press a kiss on your left hand, just below his ring.

You’re thrown over his shoulder before you have a say in the matter, and his stiffened arm gets sent into the strange man’s chest. He hadn’t meant to push him very hard, but evidently, his jealousy piqued the moment his hand made contact with him.

“There you are, my gorgeous wife,” he quips, laying a playful smack on your ass.

“Jesus, Sylus! What the—” you exclaim, watching as the man you were talking to falls to the ground.

Before you know it, you’re being carried into the bathroom and spun around, your front facing the mirror while he presses against you from behind.

You really shouldn’t be turned on by this, but you honestly can’t help yourself.

“My, my, sweetie, I knew you were a liar, but I didn’t take you for a whore too,” he says, his voice low and almost rasped. “Nearly allowing another man to kiss the hand I’ve claimed? Tsk tsk.”

You roll your eyes at him, but that only earns you another smack on your ass. It was firmer that time, too.

“You know, you don’t have to have a dick measuring competition with every man I talk to all because of a ring,” you huff, planting your palms on the bathroom counter.

Sylus chuckles at that, his hands sliding over your hips before he splays his palm on the curve of your back, forcefully pushing you over the counter. “Please, you know there isn’t any competition there.”

You hate it when he’s right, and right now, he was definitely correct. You can feel the truth in all of his glory, the outline of his cock pressing against your backside through the fabric of his shorts as he keeps you bent over for him.

You grumble a low, “oh, fuck me,” that you thought went unheard, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I never thought you’d ask,” he says, laying another smack on your reddening ass.

You narrow your eyes at him through the mirror. “You’re an asshole, Sylus.”

He hums, working to bunch your dress up around your hips to give him a nice view of your cherry red asscheek, and God, is it beautiful.

“I’m aware,” he says as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “Such pretty panties. You know these are my favorite, you dirty woman.”

Your eyebrows furrow as he disappears from the mirror’s reflection, and before you can think it over, you feel your lace panties be pulled to the side.

Great. Now he knows you’re a wet mess. Just fucking great.

“You really have some nerve,” you scoff, though there’s hardly any bite to your words.

You feel his large hands spread your cheeks apart, and a gasp leaves you when you feel his tongue dart out to swipe along the crack of your ass.

“Oh, absolutely, know I do,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your ass cheek. “The nerve I have.”

He dips his head a bit lower, and you’re honestly left stunned as he licks your pussy from behind. He moans into your cunt, bringing his fingers up to swipe along your sopping slit.

And when you glance over your shoulder, you see him suck his two fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widen in genuine surprise, and a huff of laughter leaves your lips.

“Don’t give me that look, baby,” he preens, giving your ass cheek another open-mouthed kiss before he spins you around. He then taps your thigh. “Lift.”

And you do just that, raising your thigh as he lifts you up onto the bathroom counter from his kneeling position on the floor. He drapes your thighs over his shoulders, pressing a kiss to your sensitive skin as he does so.

“You know, your mouth says the most horrible things to me, but your pussy seems to say the exact opposite,” he muses, licking his lips as he gazes up at you. “Always so pretty and wet for me. You sure you don’t want to apologi—”

“Nope,” you’re quick to say, sliding your fingers through his white hair as you push his face into your pussy. “Yeah, just shut up. Perfect.”

His words are swallowed up by your heat, but he doesn’t mind it, not one bit. He closes his eyes as he greedily laps at your cunt, tasting the sweetness that he’s missed far too much. It was so sweet, just like you usually were towards him, but it seems like he’ll have to fuck this attitude out of you before he can see that side of you again.

He doesn’t mind that. More of your smart mouth, more of your pussy… win-win.

By the time he opens his eyes to look up at you again, you can already tell that he’s drunk on you.

“God, you’re so easy, it’s disgusting,” you say through a whine as his tongue curls up and down, stimulating that beautiful pearl between your legs.

Sylus chuckles at that, but he doesn’t let up. His tongue begins to fuck into you now, a groan leaving his mouth as he watches you writhe above him. He’s never seen you look any more beautiful.

(The only exception to that was your wedding day, of course. He wept like a baby at the sight of you.)

He sucks harshly into your clit before he releases it with a pop. “I love it when you’re mean to me, baby. Makes me want to fuck you so nice, wipe that smug smile right off your face.”

It was true. His cock was rock solid in the confines of his shorts, and even if he wasn’t eating you out like a madman, he’s sure your words would have led to the same fate. He loved it when you dished it back to him because you were just so sexy when you were angry.

You’re quick to shut him up, pushing his face back into your heat, but this time, you’re fucking yourself on his tongue. He doesn’t mind it at all. If anything, he prefers it, because whatever his wife needs, she gets.

“Yeah,” you pant, your head leaning back against the mirror. “Yeah, stop fucking talking.”

Sylus grins against your heat as you make a mess of him—his nose, his mouth, his chin—everything. But he doesn’t give a damn.

He slurps up your slick, drinking it as if he were stranded in the middle of a blazing desert and your pussy was his only means of survival. Though if he were to be honest, he’d just ask you to sit on his face and suffocate him with this sweet cunt of yours if he ever found himself in that dire of a position.

(He’s already made up his mind—that’s how he wants to go out.)

Soon enough, he grasps firmly onto your hips, preventing you from grinding against his tongue.

“Now you’re just being greedy,” he says through a breathless smile, licking his lips. “Wearing your wedding ring, parading around in this beautifully slutty costume of yours, giving your attention to other men. What has gotten into you?”

You whine as he pulls his mouth away from your cunt, but his words give you a much better idea. Your hand is quick to replace his tongue, stimulating your clit while he watches with starry eyes. “Dunno. You can get inside of me right now, though.”

He huffs. “Playing with this pretty pussy right in front of my face? Have some class.”

You can’t help but chuckle out loud, and he smiles at the sound of your laughter but also at the view of your fingers circling that swollen clit of yours.

“You can talk to me about class when you aren’t kneeling in front of your ex-wife’s pussy like a puppy begging for a treat,” you joke.

Sylus hums at that, spitting onto your cunt to give you a bit more lubricant as you play with yourself. Slowly, he rises to his feet.

“I don’t have to beg for this pussy, baby,” he tells you, “It’s mine, after all.”

“Mm, whatever. Me next.”

And when his eyes meet yours, a wicked grin stretches across his face. You stare at him with your mouth open, you tongue lolled out between your lips, begging for him to spit in your mouth.

“You’re filthy,” he rasps, grasping onto your jaw to tilt your head at the perfect angle before he spits into your mouth, watching with hazy eyes as you swallow it. “Absolutely nasty. You’re so beautiful, sweetie.”

His degrading and his praise are a dangerous mixture for you, but you’re loving every second of it. This reminds you of the good times you two shared, and you feel a surge of nostalgia wash over you.

Sylus taps the sides of your thighs, and you wrap them around his waist without question. He lifts you up from the bathroom counter, pressing you against the wall to allow himself better access to you.

His lips find your neck, and a string of mewls and sighs leave your lips as he works to free himself from the confines of his shorts. And when you feel the tip of his cock smear pre-cum along your slit, you honestly feel like you’re really in for it now.

Your smart tongue has gotten you here, and you aren’t sure if you should thank it or curse it. But when you feel the tip of his thick cock begin to prod your entrance, your answer is made clear.

You claw at his back through his shirt, a sharp gasp leaving your lips. “Sylus, wait— I… go slow please,” you stammer out.

It has been awhile, and you weren’t exactly used to his size anymore. He gives you a nod of understanding, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

“Of course, baby, I hear you,” he whispers, his voice suddenly much gentler. He hooks an arm beneath you as a means of holding you up while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear. “We don’t have to do this, honey. I don’t want to see you in pain.”

You shake your head, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips. “No, no… I want to. Just… slowly please.”

Sylus nods his head, pressing a sweet peck on your cheek as he slowly begins to push his cock deeper inside of you, keeping his eyes on your face to read your expression.

“I’m okay,” you say, answering the question that you know is swirling in his head right now.

He was a stretch, but it wasn’t too bad. And now as he slowly begins to build up a pace of thrusting inside of you, you’re feeling pleasure above anything.

He leans in to press another sweet kiss on your lips before he quickly returns to being the same asshole he was before, his smirk returning as he fucks you against the wall.

“You’re awfully bratty for someone who can hardly take my cock,” he purrs, trailing his lips along your jawline as he thrusts himself even harder inside of you.

The sound of slapping skin and your shared breathy moans engulf the room, and it’s the most lewd and beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“I can take it, you asshole,” you grumble, tugging on his hair as his length reaches a particular sensitive point of your walls.

He chuckles against your neck, drawing his tongue out to taste your skin. “Mm, I know, baby. You take it so nicely. Just giving you a hard time.”

You sigh, leaning your head back against the wall, only for one of his large hands to cup the back of your head. You thought it was sweet how he was bracing you from the impact of how hard he was slamming your body against the wall with each thrust.

You mewl as you feel the heat in your belly pooling, your glassy eyes staring at the reflection of you two in the mirror, watching with blown eyes as he fucks you into oblivion.

He buries his length into you, keeping you pressed against the wall that way while your leg lock around his hips keeps you stable. He grasps onto your left hand, pressing a kiss on your ring.

“Do me a favor, baby,” he whispers, brushing his thumb over the jewelry. “Never take this off again.”

And within seconds, you’re nodding. “I won’t.”

Sylus chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss on your cheek as he begins to thrust inside of you again. “Who’s the easy one now, sweetie?”

This wasn’t how you expected your Halloween night to go, being fucked by your ex-husband in the bathroom of a party.

Well… this is what you get for being so sexy, you figure.

note. i was too lazy to think of some more banter between sylus and reader so i decided to give y’all the traditional ‘fade to black’… in the most untraditional sense. anyway!!! i tried something new with this and i’m not sure if it’s working for not so pls interact if you enjoyed! ik it was kinda nasty at some parts but hey… i had to do it to em. :3 TY FOR READING!!!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⟡ masterlist | request

[void-my-warranty]

Ghost in the Bedroom (18+)

Pairing: Simon Riley/Fem Reader/Johnny MacTavish Content Warnings: Voyeurism, PIV sex, Oral (f-recieving), masturbation, emotional hurt/comfort, she/her reader Word Count: 4.8k

Service Dog Johnny Part 9 (full part list here)

“Ready for another, y’think?”

“Okay.”

You huff a quick breath into Johnny’s neck while he works that second finger inside you. It aches, but not in the way of being stretched out too quickly, not at all. It’s that burn in your pelvis which screams you won’t last long when you finally get a different part of him in you. 

At this point you’re too worked up to do anything but roll your hips into his knuckles, mentally taking hold of that throbbing sensation and beginning to paint the picture of your upcoming orgasm by how it feels. It’s going to be thorough, licking fire through every inch of your body thanks to how much foreplay they’ve given you, and how long you’ve been anticipating this. 

Johnny uses his free hand to just barely tug on your nipple, and you make a little gasp at that dart of pleasure. 

“Is this sensitive?” he asks, doing it again. 

“Mhmm.” Everything feels sensitive and tingly right now. Every piece of your skin seems to want his hands on it — in varying degrees of roughness, although you’re pretty unlikely to get any of that tonight. 

He seems inclined to make you drag your own pussy up and down his fingers, so you oblige, straddling his thighs and keeping your face hidden in his neck. 

“What do you like?” Johnny prompts. 

You pull your face back to get a look at him. “What do you mean?” 

He pushes his fingers apart a little to stretch you, then curls them in deep. “Got nothing better to do than come over and have disgustin’ amounts of sex all week, so what do you like?”

You don’t do yourself the disservice of glancing towards Simon for permission. This isn’t about him, it’s about you. And besides, he already knows a lot of your kinks, because it was just one of many getting-to-know-you kinds of things that you talked about as the relationship became more serious. He’s always been interested in you, even the parts he can’t exactly experience firsthand. 

So you do tell Johnny a little bit about what you like - some things you know for sure, and a few others which you’ve never actually tried - speaking plainly enough that Simon can probably hear if he’s listening. It doesn’t seem horribly awkward to talk about, when Johnny was the one to ask, and he’s steadily curling his fingers inside you while you tell him. This is basically your golden opportunity to experiment sexually, so you’d have to be stupid not to take advantage of it. 

“Does any of that sound fun?” you probe nervously, when an entire two seconds of silence have elapsed since you finished talking. 

“Aye, I’m game for all of that.”

That’s exactly what you thought he’d say. That’s such a Johnny thing to say.

That warm ache in your pussy fades to nothing when his fingers retreat from you, reaching over to the side table to grab the condom he apparently put there.

“I’m actually on the pill now,” you tell him enthusiastically. Two weeks gave you a chance to get your affairs in order this time around.

“Ooh, brilliant.” His face lights up, but he still tears the condom open. “Maybe just this once, though. Can’t be makin’ a mess on your nice sofa.”

Oh.

Well, that’s… disappointing. You try not to let it bother you, because really, there’s no such thing as being too careful with contraception. But you really were quite happy to finally contribute something to this whole arrangement, besides a needy pussy and emotional baggage.

That disappointment remains hidden, though, tucked away deep down. You keep a pleasant expression on your face while Johnny gets ready for you, reminding yourself that getting pregnant by him would be incredibly inconvenient, and you desperately try to think about something besides your unjustifiably hurt feelings. 

The good thing is, there’s nothing like getting fucked when you need it to erase those stale thoughts. You finally get to sink down onto Johnny’s thick cock, and he prepped you so well that it’s nothing short of delicious from the very first inch. 

It’s exactly what you needed, and you don’t give a shit that it’s just regular sex. It’s unoriginal, plain vanilla fucking, but it’s you and Johnny and Simon. All in the same room, all breathing the same air and wanting the same thing for each other. You wrap your arms around this wonderful man’s neck, careful to avoid his sore shoulder, and you kiss him like you want him. Soft and sloppy, taking him into your body and letting him feel how much you enjoy having him close. 

You want him to be fucked and happy and cared for, and maybe for tonight you can give him two of those things. You can wander your fingers through his hair while you kiss him, make him feel like he deserves to have a warm body and a soft heart looking after him. He may be injured from top to bottom, but you can do this for him. You can let him relax under you while you use each other to feel good. There’s no power dynamic, just kisses and scruff and a warm pussy for someone who deserves it. 

Those invisible fingers of release wrap around you from the inside, and you can’t help but whine into his mouth while you chase it. 

“Shite.” His hand lands on your hip for a moment to slow your movements, making you groan in frustration. 

Just a little bit more, come on. You don’t need much. Look, you’ll just grind yourself on him for a minute while he calms down, just a tiny bit. You’re good, see? You’re almost there, and you’re being so good, so—

“Alright,” he finally allows with a deep exhale, sliding his thumb around to your pussy instead of keeping you locked down. 

Suddenly your clit is getting rubbed in a way you can’t escape. You make a muffled gasp into his mouth, your entire world narrowing to only what you’re feeling between your legs. Realistically it’s just in-and-out, rub-rub-rub, but physiologically it’s a steady trickle of dopamine, and a primed, blissed out nervous system. 

And then all of a sudden you’re just cumming. All you can process is that rolling flash of pleasure which feels so right. Your body is so willing and open to receiving every scrap of it, that for a moment it feels like you’ve entered your natural state of being. Sweet, floating pleasure, and tingly skin, and a strong hand on your hip grinding you deeper into it when you’re no longer able to do it on your own. 

Jesus, it’s good. 

You come back to awareness slowly, with your cheek pressed against Johnny’s, and his palm running up and down your back. You try to roll your hips a little, because you’re pretty sure he hasn’t cum yet and you’re here just selfishly resting.

“Still with us?” Johnny asks, his breaths coming faster than before. 

You pat his cheek with an open hand, rousing yourself to drag your eyes open and straighten up. “I’m great.”

You swear there’s a soft, second laugh coming from the other side of the couch, at your sprightly resurrection. 

You’re more than great. You’ve still got that burn in your thighs that tells you it’s going to happen again, so long as you keep getting fucked. Johnny still hasn’t finished, so you’re going to keep going, and you’re going to cum, and it’s going to be amazing.

That trembling in your legs is nothing when you need this so bad. Johnny has the most lovely, fucked-out expression on his face, kneading your ass with one hand and playing with your nipple in the other. You’re just his lap girl right now, naked and touchable for him. The way he’s looking at you under those thick lashes - with his head tilted back over the top of the couch, lazily watching you bounce on his cock - is just the hottest thing ever. It sends that roll of need through your belly again, making your breath catch in your throat while you come to terms with how you’re about to cum under his gaze like this.  

Instead, to your fucking despair, the worst thing happens. Johnny’s head flexes back and he starts panting, pushing you deep onto his cock. 

Shit, shit, you were so close. It’s no use, though. You weren’t quite able to get there, and he’s forcing you to stop moving, holding you in place and grinding up into you for the last few pulses of his release. 

Not fair, not fair, not fair. 

You do your best to act happy for him, stroking your hands up his neck while he shudders a little. He gave you a fucking good one just a minute ago, and it’s not realistic to expect that he’ll last forever, especially since you put your mouth on him earlier. This is just… life. Sometimes you don’t get what you want, and you have to accept that. 

It’s not until you drop yourself down to the couch beside him that it occurs to you that you could… it could possibly be an option to ask for more. With boyfriends in the past, you’ve typically hid the problem away and tried to find time to rub one out later in private. But everything is complicated with Simon here, and Johnny seems nice enough that maybe he’d be interested in continuing, even after he’s finished. Even though your mind is screaming at you how unsafe it is to ask for what you need, Johnny’s made it sound like it might be okay to do that. 

“Johnny?” you ask quietly, ignoring that overwhelming feeling of danger, of needing to escape. 

“Eh?” He’s just getting his first leg back into his jeans, huffing like he forgot his ankle hurts. 

“Do you… Do you think you could, um, finger me a little bit more? I’d like to try to cum again, if that’s okay.” 

Danger, suicide, humiliation. Why are you doing this to yourself?

Johnny smiles, lowering his eyes to your knees which are clamped tightly shut. “‘Course you can have some fingers. Askin’ so nicely, too.”

“Gets all polite when she’s wet,” Simon confides, his voice full of affection. 

You shoot him a look of feigned annoyance, but dutifully pull your knees up when Johnny gets down to the floor in front of you. 

You’re shivering a little, from the anticipation and the rollercoaster of ups and downs you just went through. And, okay, maybe you enjoy the way they talk about you to each other. Maybe you like it just a tiny bit. 

Johnny pushes your thighs a little wider, works two fingers inside you and gives you that first rolling tide of pleasure. “Are you a very good girl when you need to cum?”

Dammit. You definitely like that. It seems like a rhetorical question, so you just make a little sound in your throat and focus on the feel of his fingers, the way he’s putting pressure on all the best spots while he fucks them into you. 

Asking for this was so difficult that you’re replaying it in the back of your mind, still wondering if you’re being too much of a burden, and he’s just going along with it to avoid the awkwardness of turning you down.

Your eyes are fastened on Johnny lowering his head to your pussy, when Simon’s quiet rumble pokes through your thoughts.

“Quite easy to look after, this one.”

He says it right as Johnny begins to suck on your clit, so you have to blink through that flash of pleasure for a second in order to look over at your boyfriend.

Simon regards you with the side of his knuckle resting lazily against his mouth, elbow draped over the top of the couch. He seems happy, content to watch you receive exactly what you asked for. Maybe even a little proud, if you really care to read into his expression. 

“Just needs a little loving,” he says, keeping you suspended in the loveliness of his eyes, “and a little fucking sometimes. Easy.”

Johnny gives you his fingers a little harder, making your pussy flutter around them while you gasp softly. You can’t seem to pull your gaze away from Simon’s face, not when he’s looking at you like this. He doesn’t touch you, but you swear you can almost feel the warmth of his eyes as they slide over your flushed chest, your breasts, your trembling knees. 

Suddenly all you need in the entire world is just to cum like this. That rushing feeling is already bubbling up and threatening to overtake you, now that you’re positive you’re allowed to have this. You close your eyes and splay your fingers into Johnny’s hair, needing to connect with him in some way, needing to convey how thankful you are for this, even though you’re incapable of speech at the moment. 

You’re doing everything you can to keep yourself in place, but one of your legs seems to have a mind of its own when your pussy begins to seize up. Your heel kicks down to the carpet with that first flood of pleasure rolling over your skin. You’re vaguely aware of Johnny hooking his arm around your hip to keep you in place, anchored just enough to reality that you don’t pull too hard on his hair while your body feeds you a long taste of heaven. 

Someone’s hand is in your hair, sliding down to your cheek, taking advantage of your incapacitation to make contact with your skin while you cum. Multiple people’s hands on you, inside you, but you still feel safe. Your mind is blank and unbothered while the man between your legs brings you down with gentler movements of his fingers, slower sucks on your clit.

“Okay,” you whimper, pushing against Johnny’s forehead, “okay, alright.”

Yep, you’re demolished. Completely spent and limp, and still floating in a blurry haze of endorphins. 

“You can always have that, you know.” Johnny’s voice sounds nice, smoothing pleasantly across the void of your mind. “Any time I’m around, whenever you want.”

You finally drag your eyes open to watch him get to his feet, collecting his clothes from the floor. He grins at you, seeming entertained by whatever dumb look is still on your face. Yeah, okay. How about you make him cum one more time, and then you can compare your mental states. 

You feel awfully like a snail on the sidewalk when Simon reaches across to collect you, cuddling you into him and draping your legs over his lap. He wipes your hair off your sweaty forehead and neck, encouraging you to rest on him.

“I love you,” he whispers. You’re pretty sure Johnny just stepped away to clean up. 

“Love you too, baby,” you mumble back, wrapping your arm around his stomach. “I’m feeling so good right now.”

“Good.”

“How are you feeling?” you ask, as you usually do after this sort of thing. 

“Fucking good.”

“Fucking good?” you peer up at him, smiling. “I must have done a good job, huh?”

Shameless begging for praise.

His fingers skim your jaw. “I don’t think you know… sort of… seeing how brave you are with all this. How much it helps.” 

You’re absolutely not brave, but you’re not petty enough argue the point. You kiss him for a minute, as your mind comes back to reality and your body starts to feel more under your control. 

Simon pulls away from the kiss, nudging the bridge of his nose against your cheekbone. “Fancy going back to the bedroom with me for a bit?”

You blink for a moment in confusion, staring at the back of his neck. “Do… do you mean…”

“Won’t promise anything will come of it, just—“

“Yes,” you blurt enthusiastically. “Yes, of course.” 

You push yourself upright, suddenly experiencing a major second wind, and just absolutely ecstatic that things are apparently going so well tonight. You knew he was in a good mood, but for him to be feeling this good, that’s fucking incredible. 

Uncaring that you’re still naked and drippy, you get up and grab Simon’s hand to haul him to his feet. The last thing you want is for him to sit in an awkward moment that’ll make him second guess himself. He’s pushed you through your insecurities, and you can extend him the same compassion. 

On your way, you pass a fully dressed Johnny leaving the bathroom. Your mouth opens to explain the situation, but before you can, he meets your eyes and gives you a lazy, two finger salute. “Have fun.”

Wait. 

He knew. 

Simon’s hand on your waist keeps you walking, but your mind is whirling when you finally realize the significance of insisting on a condom. He wasn’t concerned with getting the fucking couch messy, he was avoiding getting you messy ahead of your time with Simon. 

The click of the door closing behind you has your thoughts instantly rushing back to reality. Your boyfriend pulls his shirt off while he nudges you closer to the bed, apparently not keen on wasting any time. 

“How do you want to do this?” you ask, sitting down once the backs of your legs hit mattress. 

He removes his jeans a little slower than the shirt, staring down at you in that way he does sometimes, where you can practically see the wheels of his thoughts turning. 

“I’m not sure how far I’ll be able to go.”

“No pressure,” you assure him. “Whatever you can think of that feels doable, let’s do that. And it won’t hurt my feelings if you need to stop.”

He leans down to give you a quick kiss while he gets the pants off his feet. God, now you almost wish Johnny hadn’t made you cum quite so good, so that this would be a little more sexual and a little less therapeutic. But Simon did it this way on purpose, and honestly, he’s probably right. Your horny brain doesn’t need to be getting in the way.

“Would you… do you think I could just.. possibly try…” he swallows, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably while he tries to overcome the walls in his head. He’s always had trouble communicating verbally when he’s at the edge of things like this.

You keep your eyes on his face, and your voice steady. “How about you get yourself where you want to be, and then I’ll come get where you want me? That thing in your head, that’s what we’re going to do, okay? You don’t have to explain it first.”

Simon takes a breath and nods. Holy shit, this is happening. 

You stay where you are while he climbs onto the bed, until he gets stretched out on his back and pats his chest. “On top.”

A heady thrill shoots through you, and you crawl over to him, unable to keep your breathing anywhere close to normal. Is he going to touch you? Does he want you to fuck him?

You swing your knee over his hips and let your pussy kiss his stomach with all your cum that’s still between your thighs. You hope he doesn’t mind it, that maybe he’d even appreciate experiencing your wetness like this for the first time. It’s not dirty, Johnny made sure of that. 

Simon seems to take you for your word that you’ll go where he wants. He hooks his arms under your knees and pulls you up his stomach until you’re practically sitting on his chest, pussy just a few inches from his chin.

“Can you breathe?” you whisper, nervous to have all your weight on his lungs like this. 

“Mhmm.”

Simon’s in the thick of it, you can see that in his eyes. He’s tunnel-visioned in on the objective, reaching those thick arms over your thighs to presumably pull himself out of his underwear. He releases a relieved breath at having some contact finally on what you can only imagine is an awfully achy bit between his legs. 

This is interesting. You can see why it occurred to him, having you sit here specifically. He can see your whole body and also your face, but you can’t see anything of what he’s doing behind your ass. 

To a casual observer, this might seem like a strange arrangement, but to you, this is everything. This is the direction he wants to go in, he wants to feel pleasure that you’re a part of. He wants your body to be touching him while he cums. He wants those trauma pathways to shift, for his nervous system to stop connecting all the wrong wires. He wants to be naked with you, and feel safe. 

“Can I have your hand?” you ask softly, once you’re certain he really is jacking off right now behind you. 

His eyebrows do a confused flick for a second, but he obediently stops moving and lifts his hand into the air in front of you, his fingers hesitantly curled like he’s not sure what you want it for. 

You grab that thick wrist with a gentle pressure, and you deposit a big glob of your own spit onto his palm, smiling at him and wiping your chin when you’re done.

Simon blinks slowly and his mouth twitches into the absolutely loveliest smile for a moment. He cups his hand around your offering and worms it under your knee this time, so he’ll have an easier time of reaching his cock. 

Oh god, you love this so much. You’ll do anything for that fucking cock, which you’ve never even seen erect before. You don’t care if it’s beautiful, or scarred, or crooked, or polka-dotted. It’s his, and you love it by extension. 

You just wish you knew what you���re supposed to be doing. Should you being saying something? Sweet nothings, or dirty talk? Should you be squeezing your tits, or giving him a bunch of eye contact, or maybe no eye contact? God, are you even sexy at this angle? He’s looking straight up your body, so he’s got a front row seat of your double chin.

Don't get nervous, you’ll psyche him out. He just watched you fuck his friend in a similar position, so even if he doesn’t find this particularly sexy, maybe he can pull from those recent memories. 

Simon’s breathing starts to pick up, but his eyes don’t look right. They start getting twitchy, his lids stuttering and not landing on your face as often. You’re just stupidly sitting here doing nothing, waiting for a splash of warm cum on your ass, but his movements start to slow down.

Shit, something’s wrong. His lungs aren’t expanding as much as they should, and then his free hand finds your ankle and grabs onto it hard, like he’s trying to communicate something. You think maybe he hit a wall, because his movements stop and his eyes go a little unfocused and blinky.

“It’s okay,” you quickly tell him, cupping his cheek with your hand. “It’s alright if we stop right now.”

His pupils are shrunk down tight when his eyes finally focus on yours. “You sure?” he pants out, leaning his face just slightly away from your palm.

“Of course, baby.” You brace your hand on the pillow instead, and you’re rewarded with that grip on your ankle finally relaxing. “That was so good. I’m so proud of you.”

He clears his throat a little, scrubbing at his face with his hand. Hiding. 

“I love you so much,” you babble, because he’s having trouble talking, and he generally doesn’t mind if you do. “If we have to do this a hundred times before we get it right, that’s totally fine. Or if you never want to do it again, that’s okay too! Day by day, okay? You did good.”

Simon just nods, moving his arm in a way that makes you think he’s putting himself back in his underwear. He’s having some trouble meeting your eyes. 

Once you’re sure he’s decent, you haul yourself off him and lay down on your stomach nearby. Close enough that he knows he can touch you if he wants that. 

“How about this,” you try. “You go take a nice shower, and do what you need to do to feel better if you want to. Then we can cuddle and watch TV or something.”

“Yeah.” He lets out all the air in his lungs, then leans over to kiss the side of your hair. “Alright.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

It’s not until the bathroom door closes behind him that you let yourself drop the encouraging smile. You bury your face in your hands and just breathe for a moment, going over everything that went wrong. 

He was in such a good headspace earlier, and really he made leaps and bounds of progress. Surely it just seems like a failure right now, because the dopamine is gone and you’re alone in bed, and he didn’t get off. Everything is literally fine, you just got fucked as good as any girl could wish for, and Simon touched himself in front of you. That’s a fucking amazing night, so why are you being so dramatic about it?

It’s too quiet and lonely in here. You know if you stay and wait for Simon to be done with his shower, he’ll walk back in on your depression spiral, and be forced to comfort you in a way he’s maybe not equipped to do right now. 

Wait, Johnny. Is he still here?

You quickly throw on some underwear and Simon’s shirt, and peek your head out the door. The TV is still playing soccer, but it’s otherwise quiet.

Your bare feet make no noise on the laminant when you cross over and look past the top of the couch, finding Johnny stretched out there with his face turned towards the game. 

“Johnny?” you prompt quietly, so you won’t scare him. 

His face turns to look at you, and… fuck. Just having someone else around, someone who you trust, has the worst of your emotions suddenly seizing up your lungs. 

Seeing the look on your face, Johnny uncrosses his arms. “Aww, what happened?”

“It went really well,” you say, though your voice is cracking with the beginning of tears. “He made… a lot of progress, I think.”

“That’s good.” He’s got a very concerned expression on his face, so you must look like a mess. 

The first bit of water slides down your cheek, and you quickly wipe it away. “Simon’s fine, I think. He’s taking a shower. It’s just—“ 

You try to swallow down that lump in your throat, but it just gets bigger, and before you know it, you’re admitting out loud the debilitating truth. “It wasn’t enough.” 

Johnny purses his lips sympathetically, and you just fucking burst into tears. “Everything was p-perfect, and it still wasn’t enough.”

You cover your face with your hands to sob behind them, and Johnny says, “Aww, lass, come here.”

You do your best to blindly make your way around the couch while you cry, and then Johnny drags you down to his chest, pulling your body over his and holding you close. 

“It wasn’t anything you did,” he tells you thickly, “it’s just the way it is.”

That just makes you cry harder, because it shouldn’t be that way. 

“I hate them,” you sob into his chest.

He curses softly, petting your hair. “I know.” 

“I hate them, I hate them!” You just start wailing it into his chest, your lips pulling back in your fucking fury. 

Johnny’s shoulders shake a little, and you’d almost think he’s laughing, except that one of his hands moves to wipe his face. “I know.”

He lets you cry on him for a long time. Long enough that you’re very glad you came to him for comfort, because you’d probably be doing the same exact thing by yourself in the bedroom.

You don’t hear the bedroom door open, but you do hear the sigh when Simon wanders over. 

“Can’t have a bloody wank without you lot fussing over it like a couple of grans.”

You get scooped up in your boyfriend's fresh, clean arms, and Johnny sits up so you all can recover on the same couch. Simon doesn’t let you apologize for your outburst, keeps shushing you when you try. 

It’s quiet for a while after that. Johnny’s team wins, so that’s something. He stays the night, and that’s nice, too.

Next Part

Dividers by @the-aesthetics-shop

Chronological Read-Through Path

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

Hi! If you don't know me, my name is Hank, I am an independent, transfem leatherworker and sex worker. About two months ago, I lost a pretty major source of my income, and I've been having a lot of trouble taking any days truly off for months.

Right now, I need some rest. I'm trying to take two days off within the next week or two, but because my income is built around me working all the time, it's very difficult to do so stress free.

If you feel inclined to help me take two days to breathe, you can check out my site or tell someone who might be interested about my work. It would help immensely.

Right now, I have chokers on sale for as low as $30-55 sliding scale, as well as a lot of other items for those on a budget :)

@pansy.leatherwork on IG

Thanks for reading!

[chuulyssa]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 !

𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 — bsd men and their favourite part of you

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 — smut and fluff

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — dazai, ranpo, kunikida, chuuya, akutagawa, fyodor, nikolai, sigma x reader

𝗗𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗜 loves your thighs. he loves to lay his head on them and rest, drowning himself in your soft skin, away from kunikida's screams and his piling work. they are his comfort, sometimes he catches himself squeezing them when he's thinking of a new plan or contemplating his existence. he likes the feeling of your clothed thigh, and how you shake his hands away when he does it in the middle of an important meeting. but dazai is dazai, and he reminds you of that by burying his face in between your thighs for two hours straight. poor you.

𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗣𝗢 likes to slide his fingers along the curvature of your waist in his pastime. it feels awfully nice to grab you by it when you're least expecting it, and even nicer to hike your shirt higher when you're not looking. ranpo is usually an unimpressed man because he correctly guesses his way out of everything, but his pupils dilate whenever you wear tops that show your waist. it's as if you're asking him to kiss you all over the magnificent curve. keep going and he might reward you with it :)

𝗞𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗜𝗗𝗔 has been in a dilemma for long. although his ideals called for liking conventional body parts in his lover like the eyes or the lips, he is very much inclined towards the movement of your hands. just watching your fingers flex around your pen while you filled in paperwork, or the back of your hand resting on your table lazily leaves him stiff in his seat. he can't keep his eyes off your fancy nails, and he likes to pepper kisses around your knuckles when the two of you are alone.

𝗖𝗛𝗨𝗨𝗬𝗔 thinks he can spend eternity staring at your ass. it's perfect from all angles, and even better to touch. the way his fingers dig into the plush skin make his throat go dry, and he wishes nothing more than to eat you out every single time he catches sight of your butt. he's not the best at controlling himself, but sometimes circumstances force him to, such as in battles, when you're fighting an enemy, chuuya decides to take a break and check out your ass for a few moments for good luck.

𝗔𝗞𝗨𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗪𝗔 fell for you the hardest when he saw the love you held for him in your eyes. they are of the prettiest shade, he thinks. he stares into your eyes whenever you're alone, they bring tranquility to him. he feels he can be lost in them forever. there's something about watching them scrunch up when you laugh, or roll back when he's rutting into you. akutagawa likes that he can tell how you feel just by looking into your eyes. he believes it enhances trust in your relationship.

𝗙𝗬𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗥 won't admit it, but all he ever wants to do to you in his free time is mark your neck. he's a busy man, and it's not always you two end up in bed, so nipping at your neck is one of the few things that seems as intimate to him. he loves it when you recoil under his kisses, and he loves it even more when you have to walk around with the bruises he made because you were unable to hide them. fyodor might have been a vampire in one of his lives, but you're not complaining, are you?

𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗜 buries his face into your boobs at every chance he gets. he enjoys watching your nipples harden at the slightest provocation, and he gets off watching your boobs bounce when he shakes his head into your chest. he always gives you back hugs and leaves his hands suspiciously close to them. nikolai likes to squeeze your boob and pinch your bud, cackling at the frown on your face and kissing it. he has a hand on your chest even in non-sexual moments. the feeling of your skin so vulnerable under his touch makes him high.

𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗠𝗔 thought he was in heaven when he kissed you for the time. the taste of your lips was a luxury to him, and he might have melted had you not held onto him so tightly. he wants to cherish that feeling forever, so he always gives you kisses and quick pecks whenever you're nearby. when he's stressed, he gives you a long kiss to ease it and forget. when you're stressed, he coddles you and gives you small kisses. your lips have become comfort to him. he thinks it will be nice if you were his last kiss too, just as you were his first.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Cregan Stark x Targaryen Reader (Rhaenyra’s daughter)

Instead of Jace meeting Cregan to get his alliance — what if it’s the reader. And when Cregan meets her he’s attracted to her and instead of just remembering his allegiance towards them, he purposes a wedding instead? Like he’s willing to help more to the Black’s IF he’s allowed to wed her daughter. 😏 Definitely just a rough ask so feel free to add or change anything!

It's been a long time coming... I have received so many request for this one! I picked little things from each and turned it into a slightly bigger fic. Reader is Velaryon, and Jacaerys' twin sister. I will be turning this into a small series as the story is getting too big and heavy in content for one post

Title (for ao3): The Pact of ice and fire

Warnings: mention of character deaths (spoilers), political marriage,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Dragons are faster than ravens, so Rhaenyra sent her children on dragonback to raise support for her claim to the throne. Lucerys went to Storm’s End, Jacaerys to the Vale and you flew North to Winterfell. 

Lord Cregan Stark welcomed you into his home and offered you a seat at supper — and a chamber for the night. Dragonstone was a long way to Winterefell, your stomach was grateful for a hot meal. 

While you were eating, you informed the northman of the usurper sitting on the Iron Throne — your mother's throne — and how a war to take it back was about to begin. You didn’t forget to kindly remind him of his father’s oath to your grandsire. Starks were known for being just and honorable. 

‘’Starks do not forget their oaths, Princess,’’ Lord Stark said between two bites of mutton stew. ‘’My father made an oath to King Viserys twenty years ago, and I shall honor this oath. But winter is coming. I cannot promise the Queen my men — I need them at the Wall.’’

‘’Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. If my mother is to defend her claim, to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming to the whole of the realm, my Lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North.’’

Cregan took a long sip of his wine, thinking as he drank, then set his cup down. ‘’I have thousands of graybeards who have already seen too many winters.’’

Graybeards? You frowned, trying to understand. Did he mean old men? 

‘’No offense, Lord Stark, but I cannot accept—’’ 

‘’They are well-honed,’’ he reassured with a soft chuckle, sensing your concern. ‘’They are not that old, Princess. I can ready them to march at once.’’

‘’If your graybeards can fight, the Queen will have them,’’ you replied with a smile, reaching for your fork to take a bite. You preferred duck over mutton, but was polite enough to eat what was given to you. 

‘’What do I get of this arrangement?’’ 

A frown drew between your eyebrows. ‘’Excuse me?’’

Cregan cleared his throat, then reformulated his question. ‘’If I give the Queen some of my men, what do I get in return?’’

You considered quickly. ‘’I can send a dragon to protect Winterfell—’’

‘’Winterfell is safe from the Hightowers, Princess. I doubt they will march the three month journey to the North to attack us. It would serve them nothing. And if they did, they would not be able to trespass our gate.’’

‘’Then, what do you want, Lord Stark?’’ 

He turned to you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. ‘’A wife. I would be more inclined to help your mother’s cause if she offered me her delightful daughter.’’

You were caught off guard by Cregan’s demand. While you clearly understood his proposal, the realization of it was slow to dawn on you. For a moment, your mouth opened, before swiftly closing it again, lost for words.

When you overcame your own disbelief, you looked to the man beside you with suspicion. ‘’I am flattered, but I am not looking for a husband. I plan to fight for my mother’s throne, not stay behind and grow heirs for a lord.’’ 

‘’Who said anything about an heir? I am in no rush to step down as Lord of Winterfell. From your perspective, you see only disadvantages, but an alliance by marriage between two highborns would be strategically advantageous. Family is very important for Starks. If we were to wed, we could stand together. I will follow you to war, I will fight for your mother.’’

The dining hall fell into a long, contemplative silence as you considered Cregan’s proposal. You had come north to gain the support of the Northerners, not to find a husband. But an alliance with the Starks would be quite powerful, and perhaps Lord Stark had a point. A Stark and a Targaryen. A wolf and a dragon. Such a marriage had never happened before. 

And you wouldn't be displeased to have him as a husband. The Warden of the North was undeniably handsome. He had this rugged charm about him, with piercing gray eyes. You would not mind warming his bed. 

‘’Would I be required to reside to Winterfell?’’ 

Leaving your family during a time of war was not something you wanted.

‘’Not immediately, but eventually. It is the seat of House Stark, Princess. I would expect my wife, the Lady of Winterfell, to live there,’’ Cregan explained, his gray eyes fixed on yours, his expression serious. ‘’But we could make some arrangements to allow you to remain in the South until the war is over. Would that suit you?"

⁂

After treating with Cregan, you made the journey back to Dragonstone to bring the Queen good news. The northern Lord seemed disappointed to watch you leave, having taken a liking to your company in the few hours you spent together, but you promised to return in a fortnight. He kissed your hand before you mounted on Seasmoke, and watched you take the sky. 

You landed on Dragonstone as the day was turning into night. A knight of the Queensguard took you to your mother’s chambers where horrible news was waiting for you. 

You crumbled into your mother’s arms as the words left her lips, feeling your heart breaking into pieces. As twins, you and Jacaerys had a special bond. But you always felt protective of Luke. You would climb into his baby crib when he was crying at night and sing to him until he fell asleep. 

When you left her chambers, you visited the children’s. Aegon and Viserys were with the nanny, but Joffrey was sitting on the floor, holding a horse toy Luke had handed down to him. A sob escaped your lips, getting the little boy’s attention, and he ran over to you. You hugged him tightly. He was sad and confused, too young to understand death. 

⁂

The days that followed, you were not allowed to leave the castle. During a small council meeting, you had voiced your desire to get on your dragon and go to King’s Landing to burn Aemond Targaryen to a crisp. Jacaerys was on your side, wanting revenge for Luke, but your mother had shut the idea down quickly and forbade the two of you to leave castle ground. 

Alone in the library, you were reading about dragons to make up for not being allowed to ride your own. Unfortunately, the feeling was not the same. Seasmoke, who you had claimed after your father’s death, missed you. You could see him calling for you and flying over the bay from your chamber’s window. 

You sighed and flipped the page of your book, daydreaming of the wind hitting your face and the thrill of flying. 

A voice pulled you out of your head.

‘’A raven arrived from Winterfell, Princess. A message to you from Lord Stark,’’ Maester Gerardys said.

The maester handed you a piece of rolled parchemin, sealed with the Stark sigil. You thanked him, and he left, giving you privacy. You drew your eyebrows together, not expecting anything from Cregan. Did he wish to revoke his proposal? 

Dear Princess,

I have learned of the tragic loss of your brother, Lucerys. I offer you my deepest condolences in this dark hour. Losing a brother is a pain I know myself. Winterfell stands with you in your grief. May the gods give him rest. 

With deepest sympathy,

— Lord Cregan Stark

⁂

Following the murder of Prince Jaehaerys, the Greens had sent ravens throughout the realm claiming Rhaenyra had ordered the death of the little child in revenge for Lucerys — a son for a son. The accusation was absurd. Your mother would never order the murder of a child, or inflige this kind of pain to an innocent like Helaena. 

When night fell, Dragonstone was attacked. Ser Arryk infiltrated the island by passing for his brother, Ser Erryk, and came to the Queen’s chambers, attempting to slay her in her bed. Thankfully, Mysaria noticed the wrong brother making his way to the castle and alerted the guards, saving Rhaenyra’s life. 

‘’Thank you, Elinda,’’ Rhaenyra said as she poured tea to help her calm down. 

After hearing commotion in the corridors, you had asked one of the knights what happened and rushed to the master chambers to check on your mother. She was a little shaken after witnessing the Cargyll twins dueling and dying before her eyes. 

‘’Where was Daemon?’’ you asked, sitting across from her on the couch. 

She shrugged, not knowing. ‘’Harrenhal, I assume.’’ She took a sip of her tea, her hands slightly shaking. ‘’He has been talking of raising an army there.’’

‘’He should have been here—’’

‘’Daemon is following his own path.’’ 

You understood her words as closure to the conversation and respected her desire. 

Come morning, Dragonstone was deemed no longer safe for children. By the Queen’s command, Rhaena embarked a ship with your little brothers, their dragons, and dragon eggs to Pentos. Saying goodbye to your brothers — and half-sister — was sad, but they were too exposed on Dragonstone. 

⁂

‘’Releasing your anger through your sword is going to get you killed. Have you learned this tactic through Daemon?’’ you asked Jacaerys, his sword clinked loudly against yours as you trained on the beach. 

You took a quick step to the side, your movements fluid and graceful. 

Jacaerys grunted, adjusting his stance, and swung his sword again, aiming for your side. You blocked the attack with ease, your eyes never leaving his. ‘’How can I not be angry? The walls of Dragonstone have been infiltrated by the enemy, yet she refuses to attack.’’ He let out a frustrated sigh, his movements growing more aggressive.

‘’Because her war strategies are passive doesn’t mean she is doing the wrong thing. Do you remember when we wanted to go to King’s Landing and kill Aemond ourselves? We were angry and hurting, it was impulsive and foolish.’’ 

At the time, it seemed a brilliant idea, but with Vhagar patrolling over King’s Landing, she would have attacked the both of you before you could get to Aemond. Your mother was hurting so much from losing Lucerys, she would not have bore losing two more. 

Jacaerys swung his sword again, this time with greater force. ‘’It would have been justice.’’

‘’It would have been death.’’ 

Training came to an abrupt end, leaving Jacaerys to himself on the beach. You didn’t want to argue with him. He was usually the rational one between you, but going to King’s Landing to kill Aemond was a stupid idea. 

You were directed to the great hall by one of the guards as soon as you stepped inside. The Queen wanted to speak to you. 

She was standing at the head of the painted table with a piece of parchment before her. ‘’A raven came from Lord Staunton informing us that Ser Criston's army has burned his fields and livestock. Supplies in Rook's Rest are beginning to run low and he requests assistance. I want you to change into your riding gear. You and Rhaenys will be going to Rook’s Rest.’’ 

Excitement bubbled in your stomach. It was the first time she was sending you on a mission since Luke’s death. 

‘’Yes, Mother— Your Grace,’’ you quickly corrected. 

Rhaenyra smiled at your slip-up. ‘’Be safe. Listen to your instinct. Turn back if anything feels wrong. It’s okay to retreat.’’

⁂

The journey to Rook’s Rest was relatively short. When you got there, arrows were flying from both armies. The Green’s was larger, but Lord Staunton’s garrison did not back down. 

‘’Dragon!’’ one of the Green knights called out, catching sight of Meleys coming into view. 

Ser Criston’s archers shot arrows and scorpions fire at Meleys. The dragon was largely unharmed by their attacks, and responded by burning Criston's soldiers with dragonfire. Their screams echoed through the air, a chilling reminder of the chaos below. You tried not to let it get to your head that humans were being burned alive. They were Greens soldiers.

Coming right behind Rhaenys, Seasmoke roared, and burned more of  Ser Criston’s soldiers. A small part of you was praying to catch the man himself and turn him into ashes. It would be an amusing story to tell Jacaerys and Baela when you return. 

You clung to the saddle on Seasmoke's back as you scanned the battlefield from above, searching for any sign of Criston Cole. The heat from the dragonfire was intense, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. 

Your search was interrupted by a deafening roar coming from behind and filling the sky. You looked up to see Sunfyre, its golden scales glinting in the sunlight, joining the battlefield with Aegon atop him.

It was expected. The Greens would have been fools to come to battle with at least one dragon.

Rhaenys turned her head toward Sunfyre, having heard his roar, and came to meet him with her claws and teeth. 

The two dragons clashed in mid-air, their roars echoing across the battlefield. Meleys' scarlet scales flashed as she attacked, her claws slashing at Sunfyre's underbelly. Sunfyre responded with a blast of dragonfire, which Meleys narrowly dodged. 

You flew to Rhaenys’ aid. Although Sunfyre was slightly larger than Seasmoke, your dragon had battle experience from when your father was his rider. They participated in the war for the Stepstones together. 

Before you could get to them, another loud noise came from the forest — Vhagar. The massive dragon's roar sent chills down your spine as she emerged from the treeline, her vast wings unfurling. With Aemond atop her, Vhagar soared into the sky, heading straight for the battle.

Seeing them sent rage in your blood. They took your brother from you. 

You wanted to take them down, to kill them both to avenge Lucerys, but you knew Seasmoke would never win against Vhagar. 

Rhaenys glanced back, seeing the new threat approaching, but she didn’t let go of Sunfyre. She was determined to not let them go unscattered from this battle. 

You finally joined them, commanding Seasmoke to bite Sunfyre’s wing. Sunfyre cried out in pain as Seasmoke's jaws clamped down, and Meleys continued to claw at him relentlessly. The combined assault overwhelmed Sunfyre, and his injuries soon became too severe. With a final, agonized roar, Sunfyre began to crash toward the ground, Aegon clinging desperately to his back.

As you and Rhaenys watched Sunfyre and Aegon freefall and crash into the forest with a loud thump, Vhagar, taking Rhaenys by surprise, came from the other side and clamped her massive jaws around Meleys’s neck. The force of the attack was brutal, and Meleys roared in agony as Vhagar’s powerful grip tightened.

‘’No!’’ you screamed, knowing this bite would be fatal for the dragon. 

Life left the red dragon’s eyes, giving one last glance at her rider as they freefell from the sky together, leaving only you and Aemond standing. He looked at you with a smug winning smile on his face, having taken another member of the Blacks down. 

You could have continued this battle, but your mother’s words echoed in your head. It’s okay to retreat. 

With teary eyes, you commanded Seasmoke to turn around and return to Dragonstone, leaving behind the Queen Who Never Was. 

⁂

You felt like a failure after your first battle. Rook’s Rest had fallen into ashes, Rheanys was dead, and you lost a dragon. Your mother had been right, sending her inexperienced children to war was a terrible idea. 

Still in shock from the battle, you stepped into your mother’s chambers, tears streaming down your face. ‘’I’m sorry, Your Grace. I failed.’’

⁂

Guilt gnawed at you since you had returned from Rook’s Rest. Rhaenyra said it was not your fault, but you should not have let yourself be distracted when Vhagar was still standing. Rhaenys died because of your mistake. 

A knock at your door raised your attention. 

‘’Come.’’

The door opened, revealing your mother who came to check on you. She may be Queen, but she’ll never stop taking care of her children. Ser Steffon closed the door behind Rhaenyra, and waited outside your chambers. Since Ser Arryk infiltrated the castle, a knight of the Queensguard was always accompanying her.

She took a seat next to you on the edge of the bed, looking stunning in a blue dress. The color was unusual on her, preferring shades of red and black. 

‘’How is Lord Corlys? And Baela?’’ you asked, fidgeting with your fingers. 

You wanted to be the one bringing the regretful news of Rhaenys’ death to her husband, but your mother didn’t allow you. Although Lord Corlys had shown kindness to your family and that losses were inevitable in a war, he would not hesitate to put the blame on Rhaenyra for sending his wife to her death. 

Your mother regarded you with a mixture of concern and sadness. ‘’Lord Corlys is devastated, and so is Baela.’’ She observed the guilt in your expression and the tension in your body. ‘’You mustn't blame yourself for what happened,’’ she said, her voice gentle and loving. ‘’But it is not the matter I came here to discuss. I want to discuss my succession. If my end comes during this war, Jacaerys will ascend and take my crown, as intended. But if anything were to happen to Jace, I want you to take my crown.’’

The thought of something happening to your mother terrified you. But losing your twin brother, your other half, made you nauseous. 

You nodded. ‘’I will, Your Grace. But nothing will happen to Jace. We will protect each other—’’ 

‘’By making you the spare heir, you will be targeted, so I want you to take Seasmoke and stay at Winterfell,’’ she interrupted, her tone resolute. ‘’Lord Cregan Stark will ensure your protection.’’ 

You were taken aback by your mother’s declaration. You felt a pang of hurt and confusion. How could she send you away? She already lost two dragons, and Daemon was in Harrenhal. You going North would subtract another, leaving her defenses with only three dragons.  

‘’I do not wish to hide, I want to stay here! I am an asset to your sleeve, you need me on Dragonstone. I may not be at my best right now, but I am not a fragile daughter. I will go into battle again. Please, do not send me away,’’ you said, your voice cracking with emotion.

Rhaenyra took a difficult breath, her heart aching at your anguished plea. She understood your anger and frustration, having once been brushed aside due to being a daughter. But she never saw you as less than a boy. You always trained with your brothers and often had the upper hand when dueling with Jace. She was doing this to ensure the survival of her succession and the protection of the realm.  

‘’It is not a sign of weakness to hide. It is a sign of strength to know when to pick your battles.’’ Your mother took your hands in hers, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘’I speak the truth when I say the last thing I want is to be separated from you, but I cannot risk you getting captured. I can’t risk the Greens getting their hands on you.’’

⁂

No raven had been sent to Lord Stark to inform him of your arrival to Winterfell. You could not risk revealing your position were the message to fall into the wrong hands. So when Cregan heard from his men that a dragon had been seen flying over the northern villages, he was confused. 

With a loud thump, you landed outside the courtyard and dismounted Seasmoke. Guards bowed their heads as you walked to the gates of Winterfell, seeing the sigil of House Targaryen on your clothes. They escorted you into the castle as whispers of your arrival began to spread amongst the court, leading you to the council chamber where Cregan was occupied with matters from the Wall.

‘’I will inform Lord Stark of your arrival,’’ one of the guards said. 

You gave him a nod and waited in the corridor.

Normally, no one disturbed him during council meetings, but you insisted that the matter was urgent. With a nod, Cregan dismissed his council and instructed the guard to bring you in.

The men filed out of the chamber as you stepped in, dressed in your riding gear and flakes of snow sprinkled on your braid. Cregan stood from his seat at the end of the table, his towering figure casting a shadow against the cold stone of the chamber. 

‘’Pardon me for not welcoming you myself, Princess. Your presence here is unexpected.’’ His eyes fell on the bag on your shoulder, holding personal effects, raising his curiosity. ‘’But always welcomed,’’ he added, not wanting to give you the wrong impression.

You gave him a small smile. ‘’Thank you, Lord Stark. I apologize for my unannounced presence. Sending a raven was just not a possibility; actions had to be taken rapidly and in the utmost secrecy.’’ 

A frown formed between Cregan's eyebrows. Seeing you walk through his doors unannounced could only mean something serious had happened. You wouldn't come all the way to Winterfell unless it was necessary. 

He then gestured to a seat at the table, motioning for you to sit down. 

You tried to not make a scraping sound with the chair as you pulled it, and sat down across the taller chair. Cregan joined you, his gray eyes looking at you, waiting for explanations. 

‘’There was a battle at Rook’s Rest,’’ you began, a lump forming in your throat as horrific flashes of Rhaenys falling to her death filled your mind. ‘’Aegon the Usurper and his dragon were severely injured from my and Princess Rhaenys’ dragon. She and Meleys didn’t survive the battle.’’ You blinked rapidly, chasing the tears from your eyes. 

‘’May the gods give her rest,��’ Cregan said respectfully. 

You nodded in reciprocal, then continued. ‘’The Queen is worried they will come after me for what I’ve done to their King and decided I should go into hiding. Since I accepted your demand, she send me to Winterfell under your protection.’’ 

Before you, Cregan's frown deepened as he thought about the upcoming departure to the Wall. In a week, he and his men would be leaving for a long, harsh winter, and he wouldn't return until spring. As Warden of the North, his duty to the Wall was stronger than his duty to the Queen, but was it stronger than his oath to his future wife? You were only betrothed at the moment, but assuring your protection was part of his duty as husband. 

He gave you a single nod. ‘’Of course, Princess. You will be safe here, you have my word. No harm shall come to you behind these gates.’’

—

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