#lost all respect for him in that scene

[copypastus]

Nothing gave me more whiplash IN MY LIFE than going from acowar to acofas.

Remember when Feyre closed the chapter on her relationship with Tamlin and wished him well? Coz the Inner Circle sure keeps forgetting.

[welcometogrouchland]

Noticing that TV and film will often have a character either have had an abortion in the past that isn't showcased on screen (and just used as part of the character's ~fucked up and twisted backstory~) OR contemplate getting an abortion in the present day but not to through with it. Just once I want to see someone delete that fetus within the events of the plot and not be like. Extremely majorly punished for it and/or be in the wrong

[finalfantasyx]

"她還能撐多久 你便還能悟多久" | "the longer she lasts, the longer you'll have to apprehend it."

-

"對帝王而言 有些珍貴是無關緊要的." | "to an emperor, there are precious things that become unimportant."

-

SNGX Xiaoluo gifset: [11/?]

for @a-sea-with-no-shores, Qianluo's incredible six-hour standoff as promised months ago--and all my Xiaoluo babies. Tagging @jianghushenanigans, @eunuch-enjoyer5, and @feng-huli. Merry Christmas :)

-

bonus:

[mc-critical]

2.02 (26) / 2.16 (40)

[todayisafridaynight]

tw // suicide

on twitter some ppl were talking about THAT jo scene from iw again and someone commented fucking "you know he was thinking about using that gun on himself" and im not sane anymore !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! added something something his faith in ichi kept him hopeful enough in the moment but then when he went to jail oh. ohhh !!!!!!!!!!!

nooo cause if That Jo Scene is the flashback scene with hoshino's death that really had to be SUUUCH a low point if not top five lowest points for him i wanted to throw up watching that <- replays it in my brain constantly

[hauntingblue]

Yabushige count your fucking days. I am so mad

[nururu]

I love how law became like, the crews step parent (step captain?) and fresh into having a new dad, their other dad Luffy has to leave on an important business trip, and all of wano is just like when your step parent is trying to get you to see them as the authority and ur like fuck off you're not my dad!

[lemonnbug]

rewatching Hannibal and I forgot just how quick Jack took to Will

[kabsey]

in light of veilguard, the valleslin removal scene as solas's turning point is fascinating to me

up until that moment, he has spent inquisition indulging in quasi-denial. he's lost a good proportion of his power. he has no authority. no one fears him or respects him. during that time, he is not and cannot be fen'harel

can you imagine how free he must have felt? he can't do anything about the veil in his current state. he tried, but it didn't work, so now he has to help fix the mess with corypheus before he can deal with the veil. that burden has been at least temporarily lifted from him

so he focuses on the present crisis. he does what he can: he fights alongside his allies (friends) and supports the inquisitor (vhenan) with his knowledge (wisdom). he is and can be solas

but etched into the skin of the woman he's grown to love is a horrible reminder of his true duty. he looks at her and sees either the tyranny of one of the evanuris or the debt he owes to mythal. and he desperately wants to erase that reminder. he tells himself that he wants this for her sake, so that when he tells her the truth and they face the future together, they will stand as equals

but he is so focused on what her valleslin means to him that he has barely given any consideration to what it might mean to her

and in the moments after, whether she has (perhaps somewhat reluctantly) accepted or refused, the realization hits him: he just encouraged her to change herself to please him

just as mythal encouraged him to take a physical body to please her

(when he first displayed his physical form, do you think mythal gently touched his cheek and said, "you are so beautiful"?)

and the spell he's been living under breaks. all that comfortable denial comes crashing down around him. he has not been solas for millennia. he is and always will be fen'harel

and he will not drag the woman he loves down with him

[qqueenofhades]

I think its genuinely fascinating how Biden has somehow become the bad vibes sin eater for the party. I'm seeing people who were doing the whole "voting doesn't matter both old men are the same" pivot hard into voting as harm reduction. The anti voting rhetoric has COMPLETELY lost The Youths on tiktok. People suddenly remember the good things the Biden administration has done but don't associate Harris with any of the things they didn't like. In my swing state volunteers are signing up in droves. People feel ENERGIZED, the vibe shift pre and post Biden dropping from the race has just been insane

Y'know, that is a... good way of putting it. It's also why I'm quite sure that Biden has probably been planning it for a while. I don't think he was intending to step down, and didn't want to be forced out at the drop of a hat, but after he realized that the circus was never going to stop until he did, he did the honorable fall-on-his-own-sword thing and definitely, DEFINITELY spent some time choreographing this behind the scenes. Because while the roll-out has been very smooth, it could just as easily (as many of us were expecting) have been a total disaster, and that doesn't happen without SOME planning. It's also entirely possible that the campaign staff flipped from Biden to Harris are superhuman, to come up with a massive online roll-out, new branding, new signs (they had plenty of 'em in Wisconsin yesterday), new everything, but I'm guessing it's a combination of both. Biden has spent his entire political career being underestimated, and after we literally made a meme out of Dark Brandon juking the Republicans out of their shoes, we should definitely give credit where credit is due in how masterfully he pulled it off.

Because we have had eight years defined by the central question of Whether The President Is a God King Who Should Serve For Life (the MAGAts obviously think yes), the sheer idea of a president willingly giving up his power BEFORE he had to is also novel and admirable. It's sad that this is the case, but so be it. The Republicans also got a heaping helping of Be Careful What You Wish For that was undoubtedly brilliant; they've been yelling for years that Biden is old and frail and can't serve and should step down. Biden went "lol okay" and gave it to them, and now they're fucked.

Aside from that, on the most basic level, it's far, far easier to see the actual difference in the parties with Harris as the nominee, just because it shows that one party is willing to make progress and reflect the new demographic reality and social mores of America, and the other one is not. Now to be clear, Biden deserves an incredible amount of credit for coming out of retirement (he was ALREADY 77 years old when he became president and had had decades of a long and respected career in public service behind him) to fight, beat Trump, and deliver an incredibly successful presidency. He held the line against authoritarianism at home and abroad, he rescued the trashed American economy and managed a world-leading recovery from Covid, he stood up for democracy, he spent four years filling the benches with liberal judges to reverse even some of the Trump/McConnell hack job, he finally passed comprehensive infrastructure investment and the Green New Deal under the name of the Inflation Reduction Act -- and so on. Many of these priorities had been languishing for decades or were completely trashed under Trump, and he could not have done so much in just 4 years without all that age, skill, and experience. Hence why all the Ageism!!! was (aside from being a Republican/media smear job) dumb. He's able to do the job because he has had decades to study. Turns out that makes you actually pretty damn good at it.

Yes, Biden could not do as much as he wanted or originally planned, had to deal with MAGA Republicans and Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema sabotaging him the whole time (lololol Manchin, possible possessor of the World's Biggest Ego and with Trump around that's saying something, popping out of obscurity to self-righteously announce he would not be willing to be Kamala's VP. YEAH ASSHOLE. LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED YOU. NOBODY WHATSOEVER. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AT LEAST WE WILL SOON NO LONGER HAVE MANCHIN IN THE SENATE). And yes, Biden made some serious mistakes of his own, because he IS from an older generation and a different style of doing politics/different beliefs that no longer resonate with the younger segments of the electorate. But this old white Catholic guy at the age of almost 80 still managed to be the most progressive president ever, coming in at a moment of incredible domestic and international crisis and getting us safely to the other side, and all cynicism, criticizing, and caveating aside, he deserves an incredible amount of credit for that. I mean that absolutely, and I am very grateful.

As I said, willingly relinquishing that power takes guts, and when Biden saw the writing on the wall that he had to sacrifice himself, he took his time, he didn't jump too early, and he didn't jump too late. On the most basic level, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to make the "both parties are not the same" argument when one is running a (comparatively) young brown woman and the other is still running their loathed felonious old demented orange traitor. Most Americans are not plugged into policy minutiae and details. They look at Biden-Trump, they see two old white guys. When you take one of those old white guys away (who goes in a self-sacrificially heroic manner and in sharp contrast with the coup-happy fascist) and put Kamala Harris in there instead, it generates an obvious jolt. People can see for themselves that there is a real difference that doesn't rely on closely reading news and tracking complex policy, because as noted, most Americans simply don't. The brown first-generation American daughter of brown immigrants is a quantifiably different story from "old white guy career politician," which for better or worse is how Biden was seen, especially the old part. We needed that establishment expertise to beat Trump in 2020; I still think Biden is the only one who could have done it, and as noted, we owe him a great debt for doing so.

However.... 2024 is not 2020, and it is not 2016. There has been this HUGE and unbelievable swing to Kamala because she represents the antithesis of what the last eight years of Trump-induced anger, fear, panic, chaos, and hatred has stirred up. That's why people are so ready to rally around her, just as they were (I daresay) around Obama in 2008, after the exhaustion, chaos, war, and mounting economic misery of Bush. Trump has been out of office for the last four years, but his shadow over the American political landscape has been omnipresent. Now people know that we finally have a real chance at getting rid of him forever, and just as Biden was uniquely positioned to capitalize on that in 2020, so Harris is now. Which is why, however tough it will be, she has a real shot at winning. I can guarantee the Republicans know that, and are shit scared. Because the Black Lady Army of Democracy has indeed arrived in force to Get This Shit Done and I don't know about you, but I found that incalculably comforting:

Yikes! All lined up for Kamala pic.twitter.com/Dt4OCDp7WX

— Alex Cole (@acnewsitics) July 24, 2024

This, at the most basic level, is what scares fascists the most, it's exactly what we need now, and what Harris is uniquely positioned to mobilize, along with her gangbusters appeal to young voters:

This is the energy we need. This is what Biden saw and planned for and which he launched us into, and where all that experience and age paid off. This is why people, even people otherwise disengaged, disillusioned, or checked out of the tedious and mind-numbering drudgery and depression of American politics, are responding to it. Because it's easy to understand, it offers hope, and it tells a very simple story that is nonetheless long overdue:

Thanks so much, Joe. Go absolutely waste that orange fucker, Kamala. We got your back.

[seiwas]

i think i ran out of tags

copy pasting this from tag format i'm sorry this is a mess !!! shgdfvhsa

#i looove all the details of intimacy!!! knowing his fave movies and the books on his shelf. finding out his favourite food.

#how he rubs lotion onto your hands :(( & it ties in with his comment earlier :(( and just !! How all the care feels like it shouldn’t belong with the two of your together but it does and it’s calming and comforting and :(( the healing!! your hands no longer cracking. what that means!! 

#HE HOLDS UR HAND FOR THE SAKE OF HOLDING IT :((

#him choosing the colour of your eyes too :(( sdjhbfsj i looove the silent care they have for eachother. how not asking feels like that. how they protect eachother :(( im so sad 'i should have died that day i would have been more useful as legend' UUGH SO GOOD

#how he separates himself from it like a god oh thats so good that entire scene aches oh my god???? SO GOOD

#i love that beach scene i love the dialogue in this entire thing its just so raw and tender and SO MUCH in the unsaid

#the cogs in my brain are always turning when i read your stuff op and i love how there are a lot of things left to interpretation idk i have NO IDEA if how i'm reading it is correct but i love it bc it allows me to dig deep and try to figure that out!!

"you're so pretty, sometimes it makes me miserable" GODDDD how can he say that oh my GOD and and and how he tells you he'll do all the things you want to :(( 'i don't want my pieces i want yours' :(((

WAAAAH i love this so much. THAT ENDING!! GOSH. the way they see eachother :(( IM SAWBING this was so good thank you so much op, you're fantastic amazing wonderful everything!!!! as always!!!!!

ariadne's thread (3,839 words) Rating : Mature Gojo Satoru/Reader Tags : Fix-It, Jujutsu Kaisen Manga Spoilers, Major Manga Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Are You Gojo Satoru Because You're the Strongest, Or Are You the Strongest Because You're Gojo Satoru, Reader Has a Cursed Technique (Jujutsu Kaisen), Reader is JADED, Clingy Gojo Satoru, Mythology as a Motif, Vanilla Sex

Summary: He loses himself. He finds you, instead.

Read on AO3

[lyricthecat-12]

I urgently needed to talk about the last scene between Sonic and Shadow in the third movie, because I think what they did is simply beautiful. 🥹💙❤️🖤

Before Sonic 3 came out, there was debate over who would be the one to change Shadow's mind since at that point, there was no solid indication that Amy or Rouge would appear. I was a fan of the idea that maybe they'd have Jojo be the one to remind Shadow of Maria's wish, since she was an established character from the start and fits the profile like a cheerful, caring, and optimistic girl.

However, seeing that in the end they made it so that Sonic was the one who talked to Shadow and convinced him to fight to save the world, surprised me and at the same time fascinated me infinitely more. Because they managed to make the change organic by connecting it with narrative elements that were also raised and developed from the beginning; Sonic's grief over losing Longclaw and his paternal relationship with Tom, making this moment something special and significant for both of them:

It is a moment of connection and understanding between two people who have lost the person who was once the most important in their lives, who loved them when no one else did and gave them a home,

That for a long time they had to deal alone with the pain and guilt of having been the trigger for their deaths but, as they emphasize in the film, While Sonic was able to find a family that would love him and help him get better and cope with that pain, Shadow was alone and the only person he interacted with after awakening, only manipulated him in order to fulfill his revenge.

Until this moment, where Shadow finally meets someone who not only knows his pain perfectly but has also learned to move forward and not let it corrupt him even in the most difficult moments, and who in turn motivates him to do the same.

All of this contributes fantastically to their connection, as it is no longer just that their personalities and ways of acting are opposite, but also the way in which their stories correlate and at the same time distinguish each other, creating a new and emotional parallelism between them: They are two sides of the same coin, two extremes that ultimately come together to bring out the best in each other.

Which is beautifully reflected throughout the final battle. Sonic and Shadow display effortless synergy, supporting each other, backing each other up, and even casually joking around.

A good reminder of the great chemistry and dynamism they used to have years ago. Unlike now that they make it seem like Shadow barely tolerates Sonic, before they both had a friendly rivalry where they respected each other, valued each other and helped each other without problem. And I'm really glad the movie brought back some of that dynamic and reflected it in such a natural and fun way, and I hope that continues for future SCU projects instead of sticking to the current direction.

And I'm not just saying this because I'm a fan of Sonadow, but because I genuinely believe that this is the most natural direction for their relationship after all this time.

[edenesth]

By Order of the Black Pirates

An 'Ice On My Teeth' Comeback Special Series

"N-No, please! Spare me! I was wrong! I swear I'll never do it again!" The man's voice cracked as he grovelled on the damp ground, tears carving paths through the grime on his face. His trembling hands offered up the tiny diamond he'd been foolish enough to steal—his last-ditch effort to appease the eight figures towering over him like shadows of death.

He'd heard the whispers, the warnings: Never cross the Black Pirates. Never touch what belongs to them. Never even think of betrayal. Yet greed had blinded him. Now, staring into their cold, merciless eyes, he knew his regret was far too late.

The leader of the gang stepped forward, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tilted his head, studying the pitiful man like a cat sizing up a doomed mouse. "Didn't I ask you to screen these rats better?" he drawled, casting a sideways glance at the eldest among them before shifting his focus back to their prey. "No time to waste. Finish him."

A low chuckle echoed through the tension-filled night as the gang's usual executioner, a broad-shouldered figure clad in his signature fur coat, stepped forward, his grin as sharp as the blade in his hand.

"Sorry, buddy," he mused, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "This will be the night you take your final breath—by order of the Black fuckin' Pirates."

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Watching the harrowing scene from a distance stood a figure with crossed arms, his voice low as he muttered to his right-hand, "Every man has a weakness. Find the Black Pirates', and we'll knock them off their high horses."

"And if they have none, sir?"

The figure's lips curled into a dark smile. "Then we'll make sure they do."

Pairing(s): gang members!ateez x fem!reader

AU: gang au

Summary: One by one, the Black Pirates uncover their greatest weakness. But when the cracks begin to show, will they stand firm or let their vulnerabilities bring their empire to its knees?

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Trigger Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, blood, murder, language, contains dark themes in general

A/N: Credits to the wonderful @sundaybossanova for giving me the idea of something Peaky Blinders inspired. Thank you so much and ily💖

**Dearest readers, please note that all chapters are interconnected. You're advised to read them in order.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong

‣ The Captain

The Captain of the Black Pirates—respected, feared, and unmatched in strategy—lives by his sharp mind and unshakable resolve. But his carefully constructed world begins to crumble when a grave mistake leads him to torture an innocent suspect nearly to death. Haunted by guilt, his quest for redemption takes an unexpected turn, awakening a part of him he never thought existed: a desire to protect and care for someone.

Seonghwa

‣ The Gentleman

The Black Pirates' poised diplomat, celebrated for his refined demeanour, sharp wit, and unmatched negotiation skills, is always in control. But his composure falters when he encounters an unwilling captive trapped in the Red Room—a ruthless training ground for spies. Driven by an unexpected urge to save her, he finds his carefully maintained boundaries beginning to unravel.

Yunho

‣ The Enforcer

The towering enforcer of the Black Pirates, both disarming and deadly—his easy charm capable of winning over enemies, while his legendary fury dominates the battlefield. But his unbreakable facade begins to crack when he meets a psychologist during a mission—someone who can see through his carefully crafted mask, just as he can see through hers. Beneath her confident exterior lies a frightened soul lost in a dark world, and for the first time, he finds himself compelled to protect someone in a way he never expected.

Yeosang

‣ The Phantom [Coming soon]

Mysterious and elusive, the Black Pirates' intelligence expert is known for his sharp instincts and unparalleled skill in espionage and reconnaissance. But when he crosses paths with a woman who surpasses him in both skill and wit for the first time, his confidence begins to waver. As she outsmarts him at every turn, he finds himself unexpectedly drawn to her, eagerly anticipating each challenge—because the thrill of being near her is something he never expected to crave.

San

‣ The Tempest [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' most unpredictable force is a whirlwind of fiery passion and unbridled energy—always the first to leap into action when chaos erupts. But his world tilts when he stumbles upon a woman who, unlike his victims who always begged to live, is on the brink of ending her own life. Upon discovering she's terminally ill, he finds himself gripped by an unfamiliar and urgent desire to save her, igniting a battle within himself unlike anything he's ever faced.

Mingi

‣ The Firestarter [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' wild card is notorious for his fiery temper and even more explosive schemes—a dangerous yet irresistibly charming presence. But his confidence takes a hit when one of his near-disastrous plans is salvaged by an unlikely passerby: a composed and resourceful former aristocrat, exiled and stripped of her wealth, now navigating the world's harsh realities. Her icy demeanour and unshakable poise captivate him, leaving the ever-impulsive man unexpectedly drawn to her.

Wooyoung

‣ The Charmer [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' negotiator and master of distractions is renowned for his confidence and flirtatious charm, which can sway almost anyone. But his ego is severely wounded when he encounters the loyal bodyguard of a high-profile target, someone completely immune to his usual tricks, during a high-stakes mission. Frustrated by his failure yet captivated by her unwavering resolve, he finds himself unable to stay away, drawn to the challenge—and to her—in ways he never expected.

Jongho

‣ The Anchor [Coming soon]

The steadfast foundation of the Black Pirates is renowned for his unfaltering strength and calm under pressure. As the gang's moral compass and protector, he's always put duty above all else. But when a rival gang's attack threatens the life of their kind-hearted hired doctor, he begins to realise that his priorities extend beyond just his brothers. Torn between his loyalty to the gang and his growing feelings for her, he faces an agonising choice: protect his family or save her.

Voila, my loves! As promised, I finally managed to come up with a little something for this comeback teehee. I hope you're as excited about this as I am! Truthfully, I just returned from a 10-day trip in Shanghai and am back to work on Monday already - which means I might not be able to write much until the following weekend but I will do my best to get the parts out ASAP!

Super excited to hear your thoughts on the concept! Do let me know which member's summary enticed you the most!✨ and of course, just leave a comment if you'd like to be tagged for when the parts are released!

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar

@bunny4yungi @zl-world @bethelighthalazia @tsunchani

All Rights Reserved © edenesth

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF THE WORK HERE.

[aeralux]

"Bet You Wanna (love me now)" - Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader (Targaryen!Reader)

Summary: Alys Rivers, the bastard whore who has plagued your arranged marriage to Aemond from the very start. But every woman has her limits, and you have reached yours. In a harsh ultimatum, you finally get her banished. But from whom was Aemond to seek pleasure now?

Warnings: SMUT 18+; targcest; mentioned infidelity; profanity; degradation; intense sex scene; fingering; breeding kink; angst; mentions of murder; canon mean Aemond

Words: 11.1 k

Notes: The reader is Targaryen with white hair (mentioned as Daemon's daughter), no other description is mentioned. If you do not like this content, do not engage with it.

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

Alys. It has always been Alys Rivers—the baseborn witch of Harrenhal, whose allure captured the heart of Aemond Targaryen.

In the noble life, it was hardly an anomaly for a highborn Lord to indulge in the pleasures of mistresses and whores, particularly a Prince of the realm. Yet Alys was no ordinary concubine. She had trapped your husband's affections long before you had even graced his side as his wife, and now her ghost continued to haunt you in the halls of the Red Keep. Her presence plagued not only your marriage but threatened the very fabric of your family.

You could endure the role of the resentful wife, having inherited your father's indifference—Daemon taught you all too well that a woman's worth was often measured in the fickle affections of men. However, misfortune struck when you bore a daughter. A daughter, born in a time that could not be worse, coinciding with the moment Alys also delivered an heir to your husband—a bastard boy with black hair.

You had given the Prince a sweet, delicate child with the striking features of Valyrian heritage and silver-gold hair; you had hoped that his devotion would grow anew with this gift of lineage. Oh, how mistaken you were.

In the wake of your child’s birth, Aemond turned his back upon you—a move both cold and calculated. Once you had fulfilled your purpose as a wife, you found yourself and your precious daughter cast aside as though you were no more than commoners unworthy of his regard. After the difficult experience of childbirth, your husband’s visits reduced to a mere whisper of presence. He had no further reason to seek your bed.

Meanwhile, Alys basked in Aemond's undivided admiration. He lavished her and their bastard child with affection and attention, caring for that boy of hers with an affection that often seemed to eclipse the rightful love he should have shown your trueborn daughter. The irony was not lost on you.

As your daughter's first name day drew near, you could feel the rage within you reach its climax. That wench had enjoyed the delight of your husband's affections for nearly two years now, and your patience had frayed to its end. It was far past time that you seized control of your fate—and the fate of your daughter—whether your husband would consent or not.

Fights were all too common between you and Aemond. You refused to remain silent while he insulted your dignity and that of your precious daughter. His bold displays with his mistress, treating her as a cherished lover, were a constant insult, especially as he neglected his rightful heir and wife.

Once again, he had opted to waste an afternoon with his two bastards instead of honouring the presence of his legitimate daughter. Fuelled by resentment, you strode intentionally into the gardens, ready to confront him and demand the respect your daughter deserved.

"How dare you act this way after showing such disgust for Jacaerys and his brothers?" You hiss, your gaze boring into him like a dagger.

You take a step closer, and your smaller frame does not diminish the threat you pose. "Now you go and bed a baseborn harlot, and she bears your son, no less!" You spit out venomously.

Your voice rises to a scream as you get right up in his face. "Treat me however you wish, but if you continue to treat our legitimate daughter with disregard..." you growl, your words dripping with barely contained rage. "I will gut your whore and feed your bastard son to Cannibal, make no mistake. And our precious girl and I will watch him scream as he burns."

You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear as you whisper the promise, your tone low and deadly. "Do not test me on this, Aemond. I am not some meek little maiden to be trifled with. I am a Targaryen, the daughter of the Rogue Prince, and I will stay true to my words. Choose your actions wisely, or face the consequences."

With that, you push past him roughly and storm off, your heart pounding and your mind already plotting your next move. This cannot stand. Your child will not suffer at the hands of that vile creature - not if you have anything to say about it.

Aemond's eye narrows dangerously at your threats, his jaw clenching as he takes a menacing step towards you. The violet of his good eye seems to darken, swirling with anger and desire.

"You dare threaten me, wench?" he growls, his voice low and menacing. He grabs your arm roughly, yanking you back towards him. "I am a prince of House Targaryen, and you will show me the respect I deserve!"

His grip on your arm tightens painfully as he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your face. "Your daughter is a pitiful whelp, just like her mother. She's lucky I acknowledge her at all."

"As for that 'baseborn harlot'..." he sneers, his lips curling in disgust. "She provides me with pleasure that you never could. At least she knows how to obey her prince."

Suddenly, his hold on you shifts, one hand sliding down to grab your ass possessively. "Perhaps I should remind you of your place, wife. Maybe then you'll learn to keep that sharp tongue of yours in check."

You push Aemond away forcefully, your eyes flashing with rage and defiance. Your slender fingers dig into his chest as you shove him back.

"I find no pleasure in feeding a dog that gets his treats from someone else," you scoff, your voice dripping with disdain. The corners of your mouth curl up into a smirk.

Your long white hair whips around your face as you turn your head, a mocking laugh escaping your lips. You step closer, your form exuding an aura of dangerous grace. Leaning in, you purr, "If you dare show Alys in court... trust me, her little powers have nothing on fire. After all, witches burn, my dear husband."

You pull back, your gaze boring into his with unwavering intensity. Your hand reaches up to stroke his cheek, a falsely tender gesture that belies the threat beneath your words. "Choose your actions carefully, Aemond. A Targaryen princess is not so easily cowed."

Aemond's eye narrows at your defiant words, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He grips your wrist tightly as you stroke his cheek, his nostrils flaring in barely restrained anger. Suddenly, he spins you around, slamming you against the nearest tree trunk. His body presses against yours, pinning you in place as he leans in close, his voice a menacing whisper.

"Careful, little girl," he hisses, his breath hot against your neck. "You may be a Targaryen, but I am still your husband. And husbands have the right to punish their wives when they misbehave."

His hand slides down your side, gripping your hip possessively. "Perhaps I should remind you of your duties. You're here to bear me, sons, not make empty threats."

Aemond's lips brush against your ear, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr."And if you think I'm afraid of your father's reputation, you're mistaken. I've faced dragons, little dove. What makes you think you can threaten me?"

He nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "Now, why don't you run along and tend to your brat?"

With a rough shove, Aemond steps back, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and desire. He adjusts himself, his posture strong and commanding as he looks down at you. "Remember your place, wife. Or I might just have to take drastic measures to ensure your obedience."

You walk away without another word, a cruel plan already taking shape in your mind. You stride purposefully towards the kitchens, your long white hair flowing behind you.

Inside the bustling chambers, maids scurry about, preparing dishes and tending to various tasks. But your sharp gaze locks on Lyra, one of your servants. You approach her discreetly, pulling her aside.

"Lyra," you whisper urgently, your light violet eyes boring into hers. "I need your help with something important. Tonight, before Aemond retires, ensure that his bastard drinks Hemlock tea. Not enough to kill him, but to make him very ill. And keep this between us."

You press a purse heavy with coins into her hand. "You'll be handsomely rewarded for your service."

With that, you turn and leave as abruptly as you arrived, your mind already turning to the sweet revenge that awaits.

The maid's eyes widen in shock at your whispered instructions, fear and curiosity dancing across her features. She nods silently, a small, nervous smile playing on her lips as she watches you leave, clutching the promise of reward.

Satisfied that your plan is in motion, you make your way back to your chambers. But as you step inside, you're greeted by an unexpected sight - Aemond, lounging on your bed, a smug grin on his face.

"And where have you been, my dear?" he drawls, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "I was beginning to worry that you'd run off with another lover."

You glare at him, your violet eyes flashing dangerously as you cross your arms over your chest. "Unlike you, I don't parade my lover through the castle halls. And unlike you, my lover is a Lord, not some bastard."

You spit the words at him, your voice dripping with loathing. Rolling your eyes, you let out a mocking laugh. "Going through the motions of being a doting husband must be so tiring for you. Why don't you run along and spend some quality time with your precious little Alys? I'm sure she's waiting for you eagerly."

Tonight, he'll learn the foolishness of undervaluing you. He'll see that you meant every word and that if he continues to neglect your daughter, his bastard son will pay the price.

You incline your head, a fake smile playing on your lips. "Well? Are you going to leave, or do I need to call the guards to remove you? I wouldn't want to cause a scene. You might be a prince, but I'm a princess, and my guards listen to me."

Aemond's face darkens at your words, his jaw clenching as he rises from the bed. He stalks towards you. His movements are predatory until he's standing mere inches away. His good eye bores into yours, filled with a mix of anger and intrigue.

"Careful, little dove," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You play a dangerous game. You think you can manipulate me with your words and your petty threats?"

Suddenly, his hand lashes out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer. His other hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "I am a dragon rider, a prince of House Targaryen. I've faced worse than you and your little schemes."

Aemond leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "But by the gods, I admire your spirit. It's been far too long since anyone dared to challenge me like this."

He pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as it roams over your face. "So tell me, my feisty wife, what do you propose we do about this... tension between us?"

Your smirk widens into a wicked grin as you deliver your parting shot. "Well then, seeing as you've repeatedly said how I 'fail to pleasure you', I suppose I'll simply have to take matters into my own hands."

You raise an eyebrow, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "My guess is you'll scurry off to Alys' quarters, forcing her to cater to your every whim. And while you're busying yourself with your precious whore..."

You pause, letting the anticipation hang in the air between you.

"...I'll be here, enjoying the company of my lover. We'll fuck on every surface of this room until I can't walk or speak. Until the only word I can remember is his name as he brings me to ecstasy again and again."

You lean forward, your voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "Have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps the problem isn't me, but you? That maybe a man who appreciates my skills, who shows me the respect and appreciation I deserve, might find me to be quite satisfactory indeed?"

You toss your head back and chuckle, the sound tinged with bitterness. "But then again, I doubt a man like you would ever understand the concept of mutual pleasure or satisfaction. You're far too focused on your desires to bother with mine."

With that, you turn on your heel and stalk towards the door, your long white hair swishing behind you. You pause and glance back over your shoulder, motioning for him to leave.

"Enjoy your evening, my lord. I certainly intend to."

"You think your little lover can satisfy you more than I can?" he mocks. "You forget, wife, that I am a man who has taken cities and slain men. I don't need to be grateful for anything." He strides over to you.

Suddenly, he spins you around, pressing your back against his chest as his arms wrap around you in an iron grip. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "But perhaps you're right. Perhaps I haven't been... attentive enough in our marital duties."

One hand slides up from your waist, cupping your breast roughly through your gown. "Let me show you what a real dragon can do, little dove. I'll fuck you so hard, you'll forget your name, let alone your lover's."

Aemond's teeth graze your neck, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. "What do you say, my wife? Shall we put your claims to the test? Or are you all talk and no action?"

"How do you know he isn't a 'dragon' as well?" You question him, your tone dripping with disdain as you break free from his grasp.

"If you had been a good husband and father, you'd have at least three children by now. But you decided to bed a bastard whore instead. Who has provided you with only one son, with black hair and no dragon. He is no Targaryen. He is a Rivers. And he always will be."

You fix him with a cold stare, your eyes flashing with barely contained rage. "I will have your son, do not worry your empty head... but only once the whore is gone from King's Landing."

Aemond's face contorts with rage at your words, his good eye blazing with fury. He advances on you, backing you up against the wall with the sheer force of his presence.

"You dare speak of my son that way?" he snarls, his voice low and dangerous. "He is the son of a Targaryen prince, and that makes him a prince as well. More than you can ever claim for yourself."

His hand shoots out, wrapping around your throat as he leans in close. His breath is hot against your face as he continues, "Perhaps I should remind you of your place, wench. You are my wife, and you will bear me more children, whether you like it or not."

Aemond's grip on your throat tightens slightly, not enough to cut off your air entirely, but enough to make breathing difficult. "As for Alys... she stays where she belongs. By my side."

He releases your throat suddenly, shoving you away from him. As you stumble back, he straightens his waistcoat, his posture regal and commanding. "Consider this a warning. Keep your tongue in check, or face the consequences. I am not a man to be trifled with."

You let out a loud, mocking laugh as Aemond released you from his bruising grip. "Oh, Aemond," you say, your voice dripping with disgust. "The very notion that I would fear you is hilarious. Believe me when I say that I am the last person who would be frightened by your empty threats."

Your eyes flash with a wicked gleam as you fix him with a knowing smile. "As for your precious whore, Alys... her days of bearing your bastards are numbered. Her last birth nearly killed her. Her womb is weak, Aemond. She won't survive another pregnancy."

You take a step closer, your voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Now, I suggest you leave my chambers."

Your hand rests on the hilt of the dagger at your belt, a silent threat hanging in the air between you. "Run along, my dear husband. Go play with your mistress and your bastard child. Just remember..." you hiss, your eyes narrowing. "You underestimate me at your risk."

With a dismissive wave, you turn your back on him. "Out. Now."

Aemond's face contorts with rage at your words, his good eye blazing with a mix of anger and... respect? He takes a stepforward, his hand reaching out as if to grab you again, but stops himself. After a moment of tense silence, he speaks, his voice low and menacing.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he growls, his jaw clenched tight. "Playing your little games, threatening my mistress, my son..."

Aemond's eyes roam over you, a predatory gleam in his gaze. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I have been too lenient with you. A dragon needs to be handled firmly, after all."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your chin, forcing you to meet his intense stare. "I will deal with Alys myself. She is mine, and no one threatens what's mine."

He turns to leave, pausing at the doorway to look back over his shoulder. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot. Consider this a warning - cross me again, and you'll regret it."

With those ominous words, Aemond strides out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering threat of his presence.

With shaking hands, you ring for your maid as soon as Aemond leaves your chambers. When she arrives, you issue your orders in a clear, even voice, though inside your heart races with anticipation and trepidation.

"Double the dose of hemlock in the son's cup tonight," you instruct, your tone bearing no argument. "Leave him teetering on the brink of death's door."

As the maid scurries off to fulfil her mistress' dark command, a wicked smile plays across your lips. They will never suspect that you alone hold the key to saving Aemond's precious bastard from a slow, agonising demise.

And what a neat little trap you've set for your dear husband. Poison his son (but not to kill him, you're not that cruel), give him an ultimatum, and then dangle the antidote before him like a carrot. All he must do is love you, truly love your daughter, and you shall release him from his desperation.

As the day wears on, you find yourself unable to focus on anything but the impending confrontation with Aemond. Every fibre of your being is tense, waiting for the moment when your plan will come to fruition.

Evening falls, and you're seated in your solar, pretending to read a book, but your mind is miles away. The sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention, and you look up to see Aemond bursting into the room, his face pale and eyes wild with panic.

"Where is he?" he demands, his voice frantic. "Where's my son?"

You set aside your book, a cruel smile playing on your lips as you stand to face him. "Oh, Aemond. So concerned for your bastard, are you?" you taunt, relishing the fear in his eyes.

"He's ill," you continue, feigning concern. "Very ill. The maids tell me he's been vomiting all evening and can barely keep anything down. It's a shame, really. He's always been such a healthy boy."

You take a step closer, your voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Of course, I have something that could help. A special remedy passed down through generations on my mother's side. But..." you pause, letting the tension build. "I'm not sure I want to share it. Not until you give me what I want."

Aemond's face contorts with rage and desperation, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "What do you want?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Name your price, and it's yours."

You stare at him, your violet eyes locking with his sapphire one. The moment has arrived, the power is yours. What will you demand of the man who has wronged you for so long?

Your frame radiates an aura of controlled rage as you speak, your voice low and deadly.

"Send. Them. Away," you enunciate each word carefully as if speaking to a slow-witted child. "Alys and your bastard by dawn's light. They will never set foot in this city again, and you will never breathe their names aloud. If you fail to comply, I will ensure that your precious 'son' suffers a fate worse than death."

You pause, allowing the weight of your threat to settle over him. When you continue, your voice is dripping with scorn. "I will not be made a fool by a man who cannot control his urges. Your prick may wander where it pleases, but your illegitimate offspring is a reflection upon me. This...this abomination will be removed from sight."

Your lip curls in disgust as you look upon Aemond, the realisation of your words sinking in. "Do this, or face the consequences. The choice is yours but choose wisely. I am not a woman to be trifled with."

Aemond's face contorts with rage at your ultimatum, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggles to contain his anger. After a moment, he speaks, his voice low and menacing.

"You think you hold all the cards, don't you?" he growls, taking a menacing step towards you. "You think you can threaten me and expect me to bend to your will?"

"Fine. You want Alys gone? She'll be on the first ship out of Blackwater Bay come morning. But know this - if anything happens to my son, if he so much as sneezes out of turn, I will rain down hell upon you and everything you hold dear."

Aemond leans in close, his breath hot against your face. "And as for your little 'reward'..." he hums, a dangerous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I hope you enjoy it. Because it's the last taste of victory you'll ever have over me."

Aemond is not a man to be underestimated, and you know that he will not forget this transgression easily. But for now, you have what you want. Tomorrow, Alys and her bastard son will be gone.

With a cold smile, you rise to your feet, your form exuding an aura of controlled power. Your striking eyes lock onto Aemond's as you reveal, "Give me your son. I know how to help him."

In your years at court, you've secretly studied botany and alchemy, learning to cure even the deadliest poisons, along with the knowledge of your mother's ancestors. This wisdom is your secret weapon, one that you've kept hidden until now.

You step closer to Aemond, your long white hair cascading over your shoulders as you tilt your head to the side. "Let me be clear, Aemond. I am the only one who can save your bastard son. Whatever your son has contracted seems to be fatal, but with the right ingredients and a skilled hand, he can still be saved."

"You have two choices. You can continue to play this game of power and risk losing your son forever, or you can hand him over to me. Alys might have premonitions of the future, but that is useless right now, isn't it?"

Your voice drops to a dangerous whisper as you lean in close, your faces mere inches apart. "What will it be, Aemond? Choose wisely, for your son's life hangs in the balance."

Aemond stares at you for a long moment, his face an unreadable mask. Then, slowly, the tension drains from his shoulders, and he nods once, sharp and decisive.

"You win," he says, his voice heavy with reluctance. "My son is yours. Do what you must to save him."

Without another word, he turns and strides from the room, leaving you alone with your triumph. You allow yourself a moment of satisfaction before setting your mind to the task at hand.

You make your way through the castle, your heart pounding with anticipation and a hint of fear. You know what you're doing, but there's always a risk when dealing with poisons and cures. As you enter the nursery, you find the bastard child writhing in pain, his small body wracked with convulsions.

Ignoring the concerned looks of the maids, you set to work, mixing various herbs and tinctures with practised ease. You feed the concoction to the child, holding him steady as he chokes and sputters. It's a long, gruelling process, but eventually, his breathing begins to even out, and the colour returns to his cheeks.

Exhausted but triumphant, you rise from the bed, stretching your stiff muscles. Aemond enters the room then, his face etched with worry and gratitude. You hold the black-haired boy gently in your arms, cooing as you set him on the bed, caressing his hair as a mother would.

Aemond stands in the doorway, watching as you carefully tend to his son. His expression is a mix of relief and bafflement, his single eye roaming over the scene before him. He takes a hesitant step forward, his voice is soft and uncertain.

"He's... he's going to live?" he asks, his usual bravado stripped away, leaving only a concerned father.

You look up at him, your gaze is steadfast as you meet his stare. There's a moment of charged silence between you, the weight of your actions hanging heavy in the air.

"Yes," you finally respond, your voice carrying a hint of triumph. "Your son will live. But only because I chose to save him."

Aemond's jaw clenches, a flicker of anger crossing his features before it's replaced by a grudging acceptance. "Thank you," he mutters, the words difficult for him to say.

He moves to the bedside, gently taking his son into his arms. The boy stirs, his small hand reaching for his father's face. Aemond's expression softens, love and pride evident in his eyes as he gazes down at the child.

"You did well," he says, glancing up at you briefly before focusing his attention back on his son. "I... I underestimated you. Perhaps there is more to you than I realised."

It's not exactly a declaration of love or devotion, but for Aemond, it's as close to an apology as you're likely to get. You incline your head slightly, acknowledging his words without comment.

You smooth the damp cloth across the boy's feverish brow, your fingers lingering on the soft skin of his cheek. You'll never know it was I who made you sick, little one. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. And neither will Aemond know.

You pull back, your violet eyes hardening as you look at Aemond with a stern stare. "I've changed my mind on one thing," you say curtly, tucking the quilt snugly around the child. "The boy can stay... if you treat our daughter with the same affection as you have him. If not..." your voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "He will be sent away to Harrenhall."

"This is the best offer you will get from me," You say, your voice laced with finality. "Your beloved son's fate rests in your hands."

Without waiting for a response, you turn and stride from the room, your heels clicking sharply against the stone floor. The game has changed, and now, you hold all the cards. Let's see how long Aemond's pride can withstand the weight of his new reality.

Aemond watches you go, his jaw clenched tight as he struggles to contain his anger and frustration. He knows he's been beaten, and by his wife, no less. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but he's not a fool. He knows when he's been outmanoeuvred.

Over the next few months, a strange new dynamic settles over the castle. Aemond is more attentive to you and more concerned with your opinions and desires. He's trying to make amends to ensure that you don't turn against him again.

For your part, you remain aloof and distant, content to let Aemond squirm under the weight of your power. You spend your days tending to your duties, meeting with advisors, and always keeping a close eye on the bastard child.

Your daughter, meanwhile, seems to thrive under the new arrangement. She and her brother have grown closer, and you often catch them playing together with their maids, their laughter echoing through the halls.

One evening, as you're preparing for bed, Aemond enters your chambers without knocking. He's dressed in his riding leathers, his hair still damp from getting caught in the rain. He looks tired, but there's a new light in his eye.

You gasped sharply as Aemond burst into your chambers without warning, your heart leaping into your throat. The flimsy silk of your black nightgown clings to your curves, leaving little to the imagination, as the oppressive summer heat makes the sheer fabric stick to your skin.

"What do you think you're doing, barging in here like that?" You demand, your voice is icy despite the flush creeping up your neck.  Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you try to conceal your breasts and hardened nipples from his bold glare. "What brings you here at this late hour, husband?"

Your tone is crisp and unwelcoming despite the warmth pooling low in your belly at the sight of him. You've trained yourself to maintain this frigid facade, never letting him see how his presence affects you. But deep down, a part of you yearns for his touch, his approval, even as you keep him at arm's length.

Aemond's single eye rakes over you hungrily, taking in every inch of exposed skin. You refuse to let your posture falter, even as desire simmers beneath the surface.

"Well?" You demand, arching a brow imperiously. "Unless you have an urgent matter to discuss, I suggest you leave me to my privacy."

Your voice wavers slightly, betraying your unease. You're acutely aware of how thin the silk is, how easily he could shred it away with one tug. The thought sends a shiver down your spine.

Aemond's lips curl into a slow, wicked smile, and you feel your knees go weak. Gods, what is he doing to you? You are a princess of House Targaryen, and yet in his presence, you feel like nothing more than a mewling kitten, desperate for his attention.

"This is highly inappropriate," you manage to grit out, even as your body betrays you.

Aemond's gaze rakes over your form, lingering on the curves of your body as they're revealed by the thin silk of your nightgown. He licks his lips, his desire is evident in the hungry look in his remaining eye.

"My apologies, wife," he purrs, his voice low and seductive. "I didn't mean to startle you. But I couldn't wait any longer."

He takes a step closer. "I've been thinking about you. About us."

His voice drops to a husky whisper, and he brings his face close to yours, his breath hot against your skin. "We've been at odds for too long."

Aemond stands even closer to you now, you can feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his muscles beneath his clothes.

"I know I've been an arse," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear.

You're conflicted as you stand before Aemond. You want to scoff at his attempt to win you over, but the raw desire in his eyes is unmistakable. He looks at you like he wants to devour you whole, and it both frightens and excites you.

Stepping back, you try to compose yourself, but the heat of the summer night seems to intensify, leaving you feeling hot and breathless. Aemond hasn't seen you like this in Gods know how long, not since you fell pregnant and he no longer needed to lay with you.

"Is that so?" You ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've been thinking about me, have you? Now that your mistress is gone and I'm finally good enough for you?"

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the way your heart races at his proximity. You've always found Aemond repulsive, his cruelty and infidelity driving a wedge between you. But seeing him dote on your daughter these past months has softened some of the ice around your heart.

"You're not fooling me, Aemond," you continue, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. "I know your games. But I'll admit, this newfound interest in me is... intriguing, to say the least."

Aemond's lips curl into a smirk, his good eye glittering with amusement and desire. He takes another step forward, closing the distance between you once more.

"Intriguing, huh?" he purrs, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the delicate line of your jaw. "Well, maybe I'm just realising what I've been missing."

His other hand comes to rest on your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh through the thin silk of your nightgown. You can feel the heat of his touch, the promise of more to come.

"I've been a fool," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your throat. "I've let my pride and my lust cloud my judgment. But not anymore."

He pulls back slightly, his eye searching yours for any sign of resistance. But he sees none, only the flicker of desire that matches his own.

"You're a force to be reckoned with, my lady wife. Beautiful, intelligent, and deadly when crossed. How could I not be drawn to you?"

His lips find yours in a searing kiss, demanding and passionate. It's a kiss that speaks of pent-up desire, anger and passion.

As he pulls you closer, you feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against your stomach, a reminder of the power you hold over him. It's intoxicating, the way he wants you, the way he needs you.

But even as you melt into his embrace, a small part of you whispers a warning. Aemond is a master manipulator, and this could all be just another one of his games.

The worries in the back of your mind fade away as you feel Aemond's rough hands grip your rear, kneading the soft flesh. He's never touched you with such raw passion, such primal hunger. Reluctantly, you admit to yourself that you love it.

You whimper into the kiss, your hands tangling in his still slightly damp hair. You need him to know exactly what he's been missing out on all this time. You want him to regret every moment he spent with that whore in the tower.

Breaking away from his lips, you trail bites along the pale column of his throat, marking his skin with dark purple splotches. With your tongue, you soothe each spot, leaving no doubt as to who now claims him.

"Now the whole court will know that the prince has finally come to his senses," you murmur against his skin, "and bedded his beautiful lady wife."

Aemond groans, his hands roaming your body with a newfound urgency. He grips your hips, grinding against you, his hard length throbbing with need.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice ragged with desire. "I've wasted so much time, chasing after foolish fantasies. You're the one I should have wanted all along."

He tears your nightgown open, baring your body to his hungry gaze. His calloused hands cup your breasts, thumbing your nipples until they pebble under his touch. His mouth latches onto one breast, sucking and biting.

Your breath catches in your throat as Aemond's mouth closes around your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You gasp and moan, arching into his touch, craving more.

"So fucking perfect," he rasps, leaning down to take the other nipple into his mouth. He sucks hard, grazing the sensitive bud with his teeth.

Aemond steps back, his eye raking over your naked form. "Beautiful," he breathes, his gaze heavy with lust. "I've been a fool to deny myself this for so long."

When he releases your nipples, stepping back to admire his handiwork, you feel empty, aching for his mouth back on your sensitive flesh.

You stand before him, your torn nightgown hanging off your shoulders, exposing your breasts and stomach to his heated gaze. The fabric clings to your hips, the tear running down the front, barely concealing your most intimate place. You're flushed, your chest heaving with anticipation, waiting for his next move.

Aemond drinks in the sight of you, his eye dark with desire. "Exquisite," he breathes, his voice rough with want. He reaches out, his fingers tracing the path of the tear, teasing the edge of the fabric. "I want to rip this off and feast on you until you scream."

You shudder at his words, liquids pooling between your thighs. "Please," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "Don't tease me, Aemond."

He grins, a predatory, hungry look on his face. "Oh, I intend to, my lady wife. I intend to make you forget all about that mistress of mine."

In one swift motion, he tears the remains of your nightgown away, leaving you bare before him. His eye travels the length of your body, taking in every curve, every dip, every inch of creamy skin.

"What an idiot I’ve been," he groans, his hand reaching down to palm himself through his breeches. "Seeking pleasure in another when my own wife could put all of the whores in Westeros to shame."

He walks you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed, pushing you down onto the silken sheets. Aemond stands over you, his tall frame looming above you, his gaze burning into you.

"Then why did you?" You demand, your voice sharp with disdain. "I'm not the naive girl you married. I've become a woman since we last shared a bed."

Your legs fall open as you sprawl before Aemond, baring yourself to his hungry gaze. The cool air kisses your heated skin, raising goosebumps across your flesh. You need him to see what he's been denying himself, to foolishly chase after lesser women.

Aemond swallows hard, his eye roving over your body, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. "A woman indeed," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "A goddess."

"Do you have any idea how many lords and knights in this realm burn with envy?" You purr, your voice dripping with bitter amusement. "All because they'll never have a chance at a wife like me. Yet you, my husband, were too blind to appreciate the treasure right in front of you."

You arch your back, pushing your breasts up and out, an offering to the god of war. Your long white hair spills around you like a dark halo, framing your face. You can see the regret and longing in Aemond's eye as he drinks in the sight of you.

He moves to stand at the foot of the bed, his hand trailing up your calf, over your knee, and along your inner thigh. "I was blinded by lust, my lady wife. Blinded by pride, by jealousy, by my own need to prove something."

His fingers brush against your slick folds, and you gasp at the contact.

Aemond's fingers delve deeper, parting your folds, teasing your entrance. "I saw the lust in their eyes, the way they looked at you when they thought I wasn't watching."

Aemond's touch is electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins. You moan his name, your hips bucking up against his hand, desperate for more.

Aemond chuckles darkly, his fingers continuing their maddening dance against your most sensitive places. "Did you like that, my dear? The way they stared at you like a piece of meat? The way they ached to have you?"

"Yes," you breathe, your chest heaving with each ragged inhale. "They made me feel desirable when my husband couldn't."

The words escape your lips before you can stop them, fueled by the hurt and anger still simmering beneath the surface. Your hips buck up desperately, seeking the satisfaction Aemond's teasing fingers deny you.

"Fuck," you snarl in frustration, your nails raking down his forearm. "Stop playing games and give me what I need."

You fix him with a defiant glare, your eyes flashing with challenge. "Unless you're too fucked up to perform now that you've realized what a prize you've been neglecting all this time."

Your lips curl into a sneer, a cruel twist of your mouth. "It would serve you right if I also paraded my lover around. Maybe then you'd understand— "

Your words are cut off by your cry as Aemond places a harsh slap against your sopping cunt.

The sound of your cry, of the wet slap against your flesh, sends a bolt of lust straight to Aemond's already throbbing cock. He's never seen you like this, so wanton, so uninhibited. It's intoxicating.

"You want to play dirty, do you?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Threaten me with your infidelity? You want someone to fuck you senseless, to claim this sweet cunt as their own?"

He rewards your crude talk with another sharp slap to your pussy, the sound echoing obscenely in the quiet room. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, a fresh flood of wetness coating his palm.

He plunges two fingers into your dripping channel, setting a brutal pace as his fingers pump in and out of you. His thumb circles your clit with a pressure that borders on painful. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"You feel even better than I remember. Gods, if only I had known this tight little cunt was waiting for me," he growls, his fingers pumping harder, faster, stretching you open.

The bed creaks beneath you as Aemond moves, his fingers still pumping into your soaked cunt. You can feel every ridge, every callus as he drives into you relentlessly. It's almost too much, the sensation bordering on pain, but you crave it.

You try to form words, anything to snap back at him, but his fingers are relentlessly hitting your soft spot with each thrust, making you gush all over his hand. Your mind goes blank, lost to the overwhelming sensations. All that escapes your lips are incoherent mumbles and high-pitched whines.

Your brow furrows as you watch him abuse your tight pussy with his long fingers, pumping in and out of your dripping cunt with brutal force. "Fuuuck... Aemond..." you manage to gasp out, your voice ragged and desperate.

Aemond grins wickedly at your desperation, at the way you're clawing at the sheets, your hips bucking up to meet his punishing fingers. Your pussy clenches around him, trying to draw him deeper, greedy for more.

He curls his fingers inside you, rubbing mercilessly against that sensitive spot deep within. Your cries grow louder, more desperate, and he smirks at the sound.

"Fuck, you're so tight. So perfect. I could play with this pretty little pussy all night."

Aemond adds a third finger, stretching you impossibly wider. He curls them just so, hitting that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes. Your juices coat his fingers, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you.

"Fuck, look at you," he rasps, his eye drinking in the debauched sight of you spread out before him, his fingers buried in your cunt. "My perfect, filthy wife. So desperate for my cock."

You clamp your hand over your mouth, stifling the whorish moans that threaten to escape. You won't let him see how easily he can unravel you, how a few skilful thrusts of his fingers can have you writhing and begging like a common whore.

Your eyes screw shut as he pounds into you relentlessly, his filthy words washing over you, stoking the fire building in your core. You can't help the way your pussy clenches greedily around his invading digits upon hearing his dirty words.

It's humiliating, the way he can so easily turn you into a mewling, desperate creature with just a touch.

But gods, it feels so good. Too good. You squirm underneath him, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts, begging for more even as you hate yourself for it. You are losing control, slipping further into the haze of lust with each passing second.

Aemond smirks as he watches you struggle to maintain your composure, the battle written plainly across your face. He can feel your pussy fluttering around his fingers and can hear the muffled moans vibrating against your palm.

"Shh, don't fight it," he croons, his voice a sinful purr. "Let go, my lady wife. Let me hear those pretty sounds."

He withdraws his fingers suddenly, denying you the stimulation your body craves. You whine in protest, your hips chasing after his hand.

Aemond brings his drenched fingers to his lips, tasting your essence with a low groan. "Delicious," he purrs, his eye glinting with wicked intent.

He brings his fingers back to your face, painting your lips with your juices before thrusting them into your mouth. "Suck," he demands, his voice brooking no argument. "Get them nice and wet for where they're going next."

As you obey, dutifully licking and sucking his fingers clean, Aemond works at the laces of his breeches, freeing his hard, aching cock. It springs forth, thick and angry, the head already glistening with precum.

"Look at what you've done," he growls, gripping himself in his fist. "You're mine. This cunt belongs to me."

Aemond's arrogant declaration snaps you out of your lust-fueled haze, and you roll your eyes at his audacity. "Do you think I'd forgive you that easily?" You scoff, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "It seems you don't know your wife very well, husband."

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching as he grips his leaking cock. "This cunt belongs to me," you remind him coldly. "And if I recall correctly, you didn't even like this cunt in the first place."

You huff out a bitter laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "You'll have to do more than just rut into me like a beast in heat."

Aemond's eye narrows at your words, a flash of anger sparking in their depths. But it's quickly extinguished by a wave of lust as he takes in the sight of you propped up before him, your full breasts heaving with each breath, your hair tumbling around your shoulders.

"You're right," he concedes, his voice rough with desire. "But I do now. And I plan to worship it until you scream."

He stalks towards you, his cock bobbing with each step. He grips your thighs, pushing your legs apart, forcing you to lie back on the bed.

"And I know you all too well, my lady wife," Aemond purred, his voice a dangerous rumble as he settled between your legs.

Aemond's hand snaked out, wrapping around your throat in a firm but not crushing grip. "You're a woman scorned," he growled, his eye boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "Angry and bitter. But I intend to change that. Make you into a dutiful and docile wife."

His fingers tightened just a fraction around your throat, not enough to cut off your air supply, but enough to make your pulse jump in alarm. You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding, keeping you pinned beneath him.

"After I'm done with you," he continued, his voice low and menacing, "you'll be as obedient as a puppy. You'll beg for my touch, crave my attention. And you'll forget all about your anger, your resentment. All you'll know is the pleasure I can give you."

He hooks his arms under your knees, pushing your legs up and back, folding you nearly in half. The new position leaves you completely exposed, your dripping pussy on full display.

Aemond takes in the sight with a low groan, his cock twitching in anticipation. "Look at you, spreading yourself open for me like a whore."

He lines himself up with your entrance, the thick head of his cock nudging against your swollen folds. "Beg for it," he demands, his voice a dark command. "Beg me to claim what's mine."

He doesn't push inside, doesn't give you any relief, just holds himself there, teasing, tormenting. Your pussy clenches around nothing, empty and aching for his cock.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you struggle to regain your composure. Aemond's dark promises hang heavy in the air, making your head spin with desire and indignation. You try to remain logical as he presses your knees practically next to your ears, your most intimate parts completely open for him.

Despite the way your body aches for him, craving his touch, you force yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes blazing with defiance. "I think it's you who should be begging," you retort, voice steady despite the situation.

Through the haze of lust that threatens to consume you, the old anger still simmers, fueling your resistance. You won't let him break you so easily, won't let him reduce you to a mewling, submissive creature with just a few pretty words and a hard cock.

A twisted smile appears on his lips. He shifts his hips, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. The teasing friction makes your hips buck up involuntarily.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy breaking you," he purrs, his voice a dark promise. "Watching that fire in your eyes fade as I drive you to the brink of madness."

Aemond's smile widens, a predatory gleam in his eye as he watches you squirm beneath him. He knows your body's betrayal, the way it craves his touch despite your protests.

He places his hand from your thigh to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there, a silent reminder of his control.

"Last chance to beg, my lady wife," he growls, his voice a dark rasp. "Beg me to fill this greedy cunt, to make you mine again."

He applies just the slightest pressure, his cockhead nudging insistently at your entrance. Your pussy clenches, eager, aching to be stretched and filled.

"Or shall I just take what's mine?" Aemond's voice is a sinful purr, his eye glinting with dark promise. "Claim this sweet little pussy whether you want it or not?"

The heat of Aemond's cock pressed against your entrance sends jolts of pleasure racing through your veins. Gods, you need him to break you open and claim you as his. But your pride holds firm, refusing to let you beg like a common whore.

You stare up at him, your gaze defiant, even as your body betrays you with each quivering breath. "Don't pretend you don't want this," you bite out, trying to sound unaffected. "You're just torturing yourself."

It's difficult to sound assertive when he has you pinned, your legs pushed back towards your chest, completely at his mercy. Your pussy throbs, aching to be filled, to be stretched around his thick length.

Aemond lets out a dark chuckle, clearly amused by your feeble attempt at defiance. He shifts his hips, grinding his cock against your slick folds, painting your entrance with his precum.

"Torturing myself? Oh, my dear wife, you flatter yourself," he purrs, his voice a sinful caress. "I'm simply enjoying the show. The way your body trembles, the way your pretty little pussy leaks all over the bed, despite your best efforts to resist."

Aemond's lips curve into a wicked smirk, his eye glinting with mischief and dark promise. He rocks his hips, sliding his hard length through your soaked folds, coating himself in your arousal. Each pass of his cock brushes against your swollen clit, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins. You can't stop the moan that escapes your lips, your body betraying your desire.

"Fuck, listen to you. So loud, so desperate." Aemond growls, his voice rough with lust.

He pulls back, removing the delicious friction, leaving you empty and aching. You whimper in protest, your hips bucking, twitching, searching for his touch. But he ignores your needy movements, his focus solely on your face, drinking in your frustration.

"I wonder," he muses. "How long will it take to break you? How many times will you cum on my cock before you're begging me to fill you? To breed this fertile little cunt?"

Aemond's words are filthy and vulgar, and they send a shiver down your spine. You hate how much you love it, how much you crave his dirty talk, his rough handling. He owns you, body and soul, and you both know it.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he declares, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I'm going to take you hard and fast, just like a beast in heat. And you're going to take it like a good little wife because that's all you are to me. My property, my plaything."

With that, he lines himself up with your entrance once more. His cockhead nudges at your slick heat, teasing, taunting. "Open your eyes," he commands, his voice a low growl. "Watch as I claim what's mine."

You try to look at him, but your eyes are glossy and unfocused, clouded with the haze of lust. Then, with one hard, brutal thrust, he sheaths himself inside you, stretching you wide around his thick length.

Aemond groans as your tight heat envelops him, your slick walls clenching around his throbbing length. He stills for a moment, savouring the feeling of being buried inside you, your body stretched and full of his cock. Cursing himself for not fucking your tight wet heat earlier. For wasting time with his bastard mistress after your marriage.

"Ahhh!" You let out a kittenish scream as he filled you completely, your walls clenching around him, trying to adjust to his girth. It feels as if he is splitting you open, not even moving yet, but the stretch alone is enough to make you go mad.

Your eyes flutter, rolling back in your head as a wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. You feel so full, it's almost too much to bear. Aemond's cock pulsates inside you, hot and hard.

You can feel every ridge, every vein of his thick shaft as it throbs within you. He's so deep, buried to the hilt, his pelvis pressing against yours.

His hips twitch, a reflexive movement, driving his cock deeper still. The sensation is overwhelming and exquisite, and he has to grit his teeth against the urge to pound into you with abandon.

A moan tears from your throat, raw and primal, as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Your fingers scrabble at his back, your nails digging into his skin, holding on for dear life as he impales you on his cock.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Aemond groans, his voice rough with pleasure.

He starts to move, pulling out until just the tip remains inside you, then slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt. He sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours with each powerful thrust. The bed creaks beneath you, the frame shaking from the force of his movements.

"Take it," he growls, his voice commanding, demanding. "Take my cock, you filthy little slut. This is what you were madefor, to be used and fucked like a whore."

His filthy words and powerful thrusts make you lose yourself to the pleasure, your mind going blank as he fucks into you with wild abandon. You feel like a rag-doll, legs thrashing next to you as he uses your body for his pleasure, driving into you with a ferocity that borders on violence.

"Look at you, taking my cock like a good little wife," he praises, his voice a dark rumble. "So obedient, so eager to please me."

You let out a pathetic mewl, unable to form any words. Your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and intense pleasure as Aemond's grip on your thighs remains unforgiving, pressing your knees into the mattress.

He abuses your sopping pussy with brutal thrusts, each one driving you closer to the edge. Screams of ecstasy pour from your parted lips as your brows furrow in pleasure. His thick cock stretches you impossibly wide, filling you to the brink as he claims your body with wild disregard.

Aemond smirks down at you, revelling in your wanton moans and the way your body submits to his brutal pace. He can feel your walls fluttering around him, your slick arousal easing his way as he pounds into your tight heat.

"That's it," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "My beautiful little slut wife."

Gods, had your pussy always felt this divine?

Aemond continues to pound into you relentlessly, his hips pistoning back and forth as he fucks into your tight cunt. Each powerful thrust drives the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping and moaning like a bitch in heat.

Your body is lost to the sensations, consumed by the feeling of Aemond's thick cock stretching you wide, filling you so completely. You're nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure. Your only purpose is to take his cock and milk it for all its worth.

"Fuck, I love this cunt," Aemond growls, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his release. "Love feeling you squeeze around me, love how wet and ready you are for me."

Aemond's mind races as he fucks into you with abandon, his thoughts consumed by the exquisite sensation of your tight heat gripping his cock. He can't help but marvel at how your body yields to him, how perfectly you fit around him like you were made for his pleasure.

"I can't believe I wasted all those years fucking that Rivers whore when I could have been ruining this sweet cunt every night," Aemond growls, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust. "Gods, you're so much tighter than her. So much better."

The degrading praise stings, igniting a fire in your gut despite the intense pleasure. "I hope you regret every second of it," you grit out through clenched teeth, your voice strained and shaky from his cock stretching you open. Each brutal thrust sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, making your back arch off the bed. You scream your next words, lost in a daze of lust and anger. "Would've had all of your heirs! Taken your seed into my womb every single night!"

The thought of carrying his children, of being filled with his seed night after night, sends a shiver down your spine. Why did he waste his time with whores when he could've been breeding me, claiming me?

"I was meant to be the mother of your heirs," you hiss, your nails raking down his back. "Should've been bearing your children, ensuring the Targaryen line."

The words are punctuated by gasps and moans, your body betraying you even as your mind rages.

"Regret it," I pant, your thighs shaking. "Regret wasting your seed on common whores when you could've been filling me."

Aemond throws his head back with a roar, your words stoking the flames of his lust. The thought of you swollen with his child, carrying his heirs, drives him wild with desire. He fucks into you even harder, his hips slamming against yours with bruising force.

"You would've been perfect carrying my babies. Dropping their siblings so I could fill your fertile cunt again and again." He snarls, his eye wild with passion.

The image plays out in his mind, a tantalising fantasy that makes his cock throb inside you. You, round and ripe with his child, your belly stretched and full. He, driving into your fucked-out hole, pumping you full of his royal seed, ensuring his line continues.

"I'll make it up to you," Aemond promises, his voice a dark growl. "I'll fuck a dozen babes into you, let your belly swell with my children."

The idea sends a thrill through him, his balls drawing up tight as he imagines it. He'll keep you barefoot and pregnant with his offspring, his cock buried in your pussy every chance he gets.

"You want that, don't you?" Aemond demands, his thrusts growing erratic, his climax approaching. "To be bred like a bitch, to carry my children? To give our daughter sisters and brothers?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, furious at yourself for desiring exactly that. To be round and heavy with his child, constantly full of his seed. But gods, you do want it. You want it so badly it hurts.

"Yes," you whimper, your vision blurring as your cunt clenches erratically around his thick shaft, drawing him in deeper.

You meet his gaze, your eyes wild and pleading. The unshakable, unfriendly wife he once knew is gone, replaced by a desperate, needy whore.

"That's it," he growls against your lips. "My little wife, begging for her husband to fill her up."

A shameful part of you hopes this new side of you will make him see you differently. Make him desire you, want you, maybe even love you. The thought is intoxicating, to be truly wanted by him.

Your cunt spasms around him, gripping his cock like a vice as you imagine it. He is constantly buried inside you every night, pumping you full of his seed, ensuring his heritage while you serve your true purpose.

Aemond's eyes blaze with triumph as he sees the desperate need reflected in your eyes. He knows he's broken you, reduced you to a quivering, wanton mess, begging for his cock and his seed. It's a powerful feeling, knowing he has this control over you, that he can make you crave his touch above all else.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a brutal kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth, claiming you from the inside out. His hips continue their relentless pace, pounding into your tight heat, driving you closer to the edge.

Aemond's cock twitches inside you, his climax building, his balls drawing up tight. He's close, so fucking close to spilling himself inside you, to marking you as his once and for all.

"I'm going to flood this pussy," he promises, his voice a dark, seductive purr. "Paint your insides with my seed, make sure it takes root. You'll be dripping with my cum, and everyone will know who you belong to."

The thought sends a shiver down his spine, his cock pulsing with need. He wants to ruin you, to claim you so thoroughly that you'll never crave another man's touch. He wants to fuck you into submission, to make you his in every way possible.

His filthy words, combined with the brutal, near cervix-pounding thrusts, finally push you over the edge. You throw your head back with a keening cry, your body wracked with violent shivers as you come undone beneath him. Tears stream down your face, your eyes rolling back from the sheer, overwhelming intensity of it all.

Aemond groans as your pussy clenches around him, the rhythmic squeezing of your walls pushing him over the edge. His hips stutter, his thrusts becoming erratic as his climax crashes over him.

"Oh, Gods!" You sob, your voice high and broken.

Your pussy clamps down on his cock like a vice, rippling and fluttering as you ride out the waves of ecstasy crashing through you. At this moment, you are not a princess or a lady, but a wanton slut, put in her place by her husband's cock. And gods help you, but you love it.

"Fuck, yes!" he roars, his cock pulsing and twitching as he spills himself inside you, painting your walls with his hot, thick seed, your pussy clenching down on him like a fist.

Jet after jet of hot cum shoots from his cock, flooding your womb, painting your insides with his seed.

"Take it," he snarls, his hips jerking with each spurt of his release. "Take my cum."

Aemond's mind goes blissfully blank as he empties himself inside you, his whole world narrowing down to the feel of your pussy milking his cock, greedily swallowing every drop of his cum.

You whimper softly as Aemond's hot seed fills you, your insides warm and tingling from his release. You can feel it trickling out around his still-buried cock, the evidence of his claim dripping down.

He rocks against you, grinding his pelvis against yours, ensuring every last drop is pumped deep into your fertile core. The thought of you, swollen with his child, carrying his heir, sends a primal surge of satisfaction through him.

Your mind is blissfully empty, thoughts scattered in the aftermath of such intense pleasure. You gaze up at him with wide, glossy eyes, your lips parted in a breathless pant. The world around you fades away, leaving only him.

Aemond leans down, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He nuzzles your skin, breathing in your scent, the musky aroma of sex and sweat clinging to your bodies.

His softening cock twitches inside you, a residual shudder of pleasure rippling through him at the feeling of your cum-filled pussy clenching around him. He rolls his hips lazily, grinding against you, savouring the sensation of his seed sloshing inside you.

Aemond's lips curl into a satisfied smirk against your neck. He can feel your body, pliant and sated beneath him, still grasping his softening cock as if reluctant to let him go. The knowledge that he's thoroughly conquered you, reduced you to a quivering mess of pleasure, sends a thrill through him.

He pulls back slightly, his single eye raking over your face, drinking in the sight of you - cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed with satisfaction.

You're a vision, a goddess laid out before him, and he's drunk at the sight of you.

Aemond's eye roams over your body, taking in every curve and dip, committing the sight to memory. Your breasts, heaving with each breath, nipples pebbled and begging for his touch. The sheen of sweat on your skin, glistening in the candlelight. The way your thighs are splayed open, your pussy still stretched and dripping with his cum.

It's a feast for the senses, and Aemond is a starving man.

[nikibogwater]

Actually while I'm thinking about it, I just wanna say that the more live-action remakes Disney shlups out like shoveled manure, the more amazed I am that Cinderella (2015) exists. It breaks literally every standard of Disney's LA remakes.

It's not a shot-for-shot remake of the original 1950 animated film, though it does include small references and homages to it, but only when such things can be incorporated organically into the story.

The creators understood and respected the cross-cultural significance of the Cinderella story. They didn't want to "fix" it, or add some wacky twist to it, they just wanted to make the best possible version of the Quintessential Cinderella that they could.

Everything that could be done practically was done practically. The carriage was a real, the horses pulling it were real, and all of the other animals (with the exception of the mice and lizards, since their performance was a lot more involved than the others') were real living animals, the lizard footman and goose carriage driver were wearing prosthetics instead of just having their animal features added in post, the Fairy Godmother's dress had little LED lights sewn into it so that it would actually glow for real, the ballroom set was built by hand and included real chandeliers with more than 2000 total candles that were all actually lit for the scene, and I could go on but you get the point.

There's a ton of attention paid to little details that make the world feel real and lived in. Ella's shoes are always a little scuffed and dirty. Her farm dress is faded and wrinkled. When she breaks down and runs away to the woods, she rides her horse bareback (which, once again, was a thing Lily James actually did, no stunt-double or editing in post), because not only is that something a country girl like her would know how to do, but it also makes sense that with as upset as she is, she wouldn't want to waste time with saddling the horse. When she's dancing with the prince, it's visually obvious that he is leading her and giving her cues because of course Ella wouldn't know the latest ballroom dances, and would need him to guide her through it.

Hey speaking of dancing, y'know what else this movie does that no other LA remake has been allowed to do (at least not to this extent)? ROMANCE. Land sakes alive, this is one of the most unabashedly and yet still tastefully romantic movies I've ever seen. Ella and Kit are just oozing romantic chemistry from the moment they lock eyes for the first time. It all comes down to the fact that these two characters both have the same core values of courage and kindness, which makes their admiration for each other feel grounded and believable. Richard Madden also really sells Kit's feelings for Ella with the way his eyes go all big and soft whenever he looks at her. And don't even get me started on Lily's performance as Ella. Her quiet awe that someone as powerful as the prince loves her. The timidity and fear that she's not really worthy of that. The selfless determination to protect him from her family's cruelty, even if it means she'll never see him again, I'm just-- *banging my fist against the table and screaming into a pillow*

Absolutely god-tier costume design. No notes, I think Sandy Powell's work speaks for itself. Btw, in case you were somehow still wondering, yes, Ella's ballgown is fully practical--those layers upon layers of dreamy silk skirts are real. CG was only used to brighten up the blue color to make her stand out from the crowd more.

Wicked stepmother was allowed to actually be wicked. The movie never tries to make you sympathize with Lady Tremaine, or shift the blame off to someone else. And her villainy is given an extra layer of depth with the reveal that she is a dark reflection of Ella. They've both lost people they loved, but where Ella refused to let her grief get in the way of kindness, Lady Tremaine became utterly consumed by it. She views the death of her first husband as a sort of twisted justification for pursuing all her worst impulses. She despises Ella for her ability to flourish even while enduring terrible suffering, for being everything Lady Tremaine was either unable or flat-out refused to be.

Also Cate Blanchet absolutely SLAYS in this role. Hands-down my favorite portrayal of the wicked stepmother character.

Anyways, TLDR: Cinderella (2015) is the only Disney live-action remake that can justify its own existence and that's because it actively defies everything the LA remakes are today.

[thejujvtsupost]

It’s Always Been You

🍎F!reader, pet names: (pip/squeak, my girl, sweetheart,) suggestive but not smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief miscommunication and lots of groveling but it works out.🍎

Notes: I struggle with editing. This is totally separate from canon bc I’m heartbroken. It’s also my first lads fic, I’ll ALWAYS be a Sylus girlie but Caleb broke my brain for a minute 😭

Poll for a possible part 2 -> Taglist signup for part 2

Caleb joining the DAA wasn’t the problem at hand…No, it was the fact that you were going to be separated. Spending his last night before he leaves wrapped around each other like you always did when things were tough was the best comfort you could get.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, do you really have to go?” This was going to be the longest you’ve ever been apart since you were kids, and even worse, he wasn’t allowed to have his phone.

This wasn’t any easier on him but he couldn’t just back out. “I’ll be home before you know it, don’t worry too much.” Caleb brushed the hair from your eyes and held you closer, “plus, you get to have six months free of my constant nagging.”

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say, the tears you were holding back finally fell. Your hands that were originally wrapped around his waist were now at his chest, between your bodies and fisted tightly in his shirt. “But I love you and your nagging!” You inhaled like you were suffocating. Perhaps you were, under the weight of his impending absence.

“Shh I know, I love you and being a pain in your ass.” That earned him a wet chuckle. “I swear, as soon as I’m home I’ll fulfill my promise and I won’t leave your side. You’ll never have to worry again, about anything.” A soft kiss to your temple solidified his vow.

It took you a few long moments before you were able to get in a proper breath and process what he said. “You made a promise?”

“Don’t remember? Hm that won’t do. Think back to when you were 18, and that boy you had a crush on rejected you and broke your heart.”

“I’d prefer not to remember that, actually.”

“But remember after? When you still hadn’t come home by dinner and I found you alone at the park?” Large hands ran down the length of your back to help soothe you while he spoke.

You’re still lost but it’s coming back to you. Confessing to your crush in the park was supposed to be perfect— except he not only rejected you, but he made fun of you. You could respect rejection, but the way he humiliated you and made a scene wasn’t something you wanted to think about. “That day was awful.”

“You were so upset. I wanted to beat him to a pulp but you didn’t want to be alone. Remember what I told you? The pinky promise we made? It’s only been four years you know, I’d hope your memory isn’t that bad yet.”

The moment flooded you then with a gasp, ‘You’ll never be alone as long as I live sweetheart, and when it’s time, when I finally graduate and become a pilot, I swear I’ll marry you myself to prove it.’ And at the time it made you giggle, because surely he was just joking to cheer you up, right? “You meant it?”

Caleb chuckled and lifted your chin to look at you directly, “of course I did, it’s always been you and me. Don’t you know that?”

A fresh wave of tears formed as you surged forward to meet his lips with yours- and stopped out of embarrassment before you could make contact. “Sorry, I didn’t- I think I’m just being emotional—”

But the space between you closed once again and before you could overthink it, Caleb was kissing you the way he’s wanted to for years. His lips were all consuming and tender. His palm cupped your face like it was glass and you couldn’t resist running your fingers through his hair. Kissing Caleb felt like home, like everything was right.

He tried to break away to bring you both air but you refused to let him, instead pulling him closer and closer until he was on top of you, spreading your legs to accommodate his size. “Slow- slow down, you still need oxygen.” You shook when he started dragging his kisses down your throat, letting out soft moans when gentle sucks were left behind.

“C-Caleb…”

He pulled back and grew tense as if he was afraid he scared you away, “what’s wrong, you tired?” He was trying to give you an out if you wanted it.

You were certain your cheeks were flushed, you shook your head. “I want… more…”

Caleb groaned and buried his face in your neck “you’re killing me, Pip.”

Had you said something wrong? “Sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… I’ll just-” you loosened your arms from around him, thinking you somehow embarrassed yourself yet again.

He stopped you. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re killing me because you have no idea how badly I want you; how long I’ve wanted you.”

“Really?” Having someone like Caleb love you was the best feeling, but him being attracted to you left you wanting him even more.

Deciding to just show you, he ground his hips into yours. And god, it felt good against you. Just that little bit of contact felt better than anything you ever achieved on your own. “You’re-” hard went unsaid. He grunted when you spread your legs wider for him. “Yeah, I am. And if you want me, then you have me. But you can’t take it back, so if you’re not ready for that commitment…”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“This really isn’t the time for that—”

“Shut up, it’s important.” He sighed and let you continue. Your arms dropped from his neck to hold his face in your hands, brushing the stray hairs from his face. “That guy I had a crush on? I only liked him so much because he reminded me of you. So I’m yours, too. If you want me, then you can take me.”

Words were lost on him so actions took hold, “are you sure?” His kisses resumed their path after meeting your lips, the room grew hotter with each new brush against your skin.

“I trust you, Caleb,” you had no idea your neck was so sensitive, your gasps talking for you. “but I should let you know I’ve never done this before.”

“I’d kill anyone who ever touched you if you had”

“Isn’t that hypocritical? Should I hunt down your past lovers?” You worked his shirt over his head, the dog tag necklace you gave him mere hours ago dangled in front of your face.

He chuckled and discarded your top, your sleep shorts were next. “It’s funny how you think I’d ever want someone that isn’t you.” His revelation hit you full force: he loves you so deeply, there’s truly no doubt to have. “I’d never do this with anyone else.”

Two things happened that night: your bond was solidified, and unbeknownst to you, a life was created

The goodbye was brutal the next day, already missing him terribly before night fell again.

You managed to fall into a routine, though. You would go to work, occasionally spend time with friends— Tara spent the night with you at least once a week to keep your mind off of things; and the days she didn’t you laid in bed desperately wishing he would be by your side.

Your routine was solid, until a month into your separation when you were sick almost every single day. You were fed up by the time a week passed and the day after that you made your way to visit Zayne- who congratulated you because in his words, ‘he and his wife were expecting as well, perhaps they’ll be friends, too.’ Finding out you were pregnant without Caleb with you was difficult, there wasn’t a way to reach him and share the news.

But you weren’t alone anymore. You spent the time you felt lonely talking to your baby now, who definitely couldn’t hear you yet but that didn’t matter. You were kept company with a perfect blend of you and your Caleb.

According to the official statement released last week Caleb would be home any time today, any minute, any second.

The anticipation left butterflies in your tummy, your baby moving with your nerves. It didn’t occur to you that he might not be happy to be a father, that you might’ve been presumptuous that he’d be ready to care for another life so soon.

And when the door flew open, as much as you wanted to jump into his arms (carefully, of course,) you held your breath and waited for him to notice. And of course, because he was your Caleb, it was right away. His happiness and relief fell away to shock and— was that anger? You didn’t expect anger…

“Welcome home, I—”

“Who else has been here?”

“What? I mean Tara has been keeping me company a few times a week but that’s it.”

“What man has been in our home, pipsqueak.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, just a demand. He’s never been so terse with you…

His tone made you anxious, “No one, other than Zayne and his wife for dinner occasionally— Caleb what are you talking about?”

Caleb dropped his bag on the floor with a thud, still not moving from his spot. “I’m talking about the fact that I came home after six months and you didn’t seem to miss me at all, nothing like the way I missed you. How else would you be pregnant? So who is he? Someone from the Hunters Association?”

Oh… he thought… “Oh my god how could you think- I’d never cheat on you Caleb— EVER how could you even think—”

“Well, I certainly couldn’t have knocked you up in the time I’ve been away.”

A knife cut through you at his words, the accusation, the betrayal of thinking you’d ever be with anyone else. And how vulgar it was… Did your first time mean so little? Was it something he just wanted to get out of the way before he left? A sob escaped you, tears spilled over. “You’re an asshole, Caleb.”

His eyes went wide, “I’m the asshole here?”

“Yes! You’re a fucking asshole! I expected you to be shocked but accusing me of cheating on you? Thinking that night was nothing? That’s low. I can’t believe you!”

“That night means everything to me!”

“Ask me how far along I am! Go on, fucking ask!”

That stopped him short, “you mean?”

“SIX MONTHS!” Standing there while he dropped to his knees was barely satisfying. “God I can’t stand you right now! You must’ve lost your damn mind and all your common sense!”

His silence was angering you further, stomping off to the kitchen for a drink of water and trying to calm down was a better use of your time; crying from this much stress wasn’t good for you.

Once he gathered himself he followed you, “Sweetheart… you’re telling me that night…”

“Finally used your brain, did you?”

“I’m so, god I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” His hand reached out to bring you in for a hug but you denied him.

“Do. Not. Touch me.” His audacity made you seethe. No way were you going to give in so easily no matter how much you desired to be in his embrace and reassured.

“Sweetheart—”

“You’re sleeping on the couch. We can decide what to do later.”

His emotions began to overflow, the guilt crushing him; the ring in his pocket practically burning into his flesh. “Decide what?”

“Decide if I should even let you stay.” Your throat felt tight but you continued to hold your sobs back. “Your dinner is in the oven by the way, it’s your favorite so I suggest you don’t let it burn.”

A few hours rolled around before he couldn’t hold himself back anymore hearing your sniffles. You hadn’t eaten dinner, who knows if you had any water, and no matter how (rightfully) mad you were, you still needed to eat.

Grabbing a few of your favorite snacks with a glass of juice instead of the untouched dinner he put in the fridge was his safest option, unsure if seeing the meal would upset you further.

“Pip squeak? I know you’re awake.” Crouching by your side of the bed and setting the snacks on the nightstand, “please talk to me?”

“Go away.”

“You know I can’t do that, you have to eat something.”

You poked your head from the blanket, “oh so you care now that you know it’s yours?”

The jab was deserved but it still earned a wince. “I’d still care even if they weren’t.”

“How noble of you. Sticking around to raise a kid that’s not yours before I even have a ring.”

“Who said I didn’t have a ring?” This time you accepted the comfort of his hand brushing your hair behind your ear and gently cupping your cheek.

Curiosity was a bitch, but you weren’t ready to forgive him yet. “You were really mean.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry. I can’t imagine you being with anyone else but I didn’t expect to come home to a family either— and I’m beyond happy to be a dad. It’s not an excuse though, never okay to talk to you like that.”

A few leftover sniffles came before he pulled a tissue from the box on your nightstand, opting to dry your tears himself. “Blow,” He said, holding the tissue to help you blow your nose; then offering you the straw of the juice so you could hydrate.

“I missed you so much, I thought you’d still be happy to see me.”

“I’m over the moon, actually. But I hurt my girl, gotta make things right. Think you can forgive me? I’ll earn it forever.”

“Caleb if you ever, I mean ever, speak to me like that again I won’t hesitate to let you talk to the front door. You’ll be out.”

“I’ll cut my tongue out myself.”

“So dramatic as always.” You rolled your eyes, “you mentioned a ring?”

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth, “there’s my girl. You sure you still want it? Or should I earn it first?” He dug into his pants pocket to show you anyway.

“It wouldn’t hurt your efforts.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle fully before presenting the velvet box to you, “I’m pretty close to the ground but if you sit up for me I’ll get on one knee.”

Sitting up to stretch was good for your back anyway, “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

The velvet box opened and your jaw dropped, “picked it out in Skyhaven. Gideon and I helped the elderly owner of a small shop with some boxes he was struggling with in front of his door. Knew it was perfect right away, gorgeous and one of a kind like you.”

“You’re ridiculous, but I love it.” He slid it on your finger and sealed it with a kiss, and you fell into his arms like you’ve wanted to for the last six months.

Pulling away after many minutes of hugs, ‘I love you’s’ and kisses wasn’t welcomed by you. “Now, how ‘bout some dinner? I don’t think snacks are enough, they were backup. Gotta keep you healthy.”

“Did you like it?”

You were pulled to your feet and carried out of the room. “Didn’t eat without you, sweetheart. Having dinner without you and the baby felt empty.”

“Good. You can reheat it then.” You waited for the perfect moment to drop your bombshell, which happened to be when he was carrying a full glass pitcher of water for the table. “We’re having a daughter, by the way.”

The pitcher fell so fast his evol barely managed to catch it before glass hit the ground. It left you feeling smug.

You couldn’t help but cackle at his shocked spluttering, “A WHAT?”

I’m so flattered, I’ve never had so many people interested or had a taglist this long: @pixelcafe-network @kentochronicles @sashisuslover @lunia-likes-pomegranet @elli4ever @mysssticc @kaemaybae @kamisatoaiko @midiplier @jamseashell @llamabois @boba14 @crimsonspring @angrychinchillanoises @ali-shiii @kazbae95 @ifistoptherain @c-I-stinnett @nephelesthoughts @etherealzi @jjoppees @keithkoganeirl

Click here to be added to the taglist for part 2

All divider credits to me @thecutestgrotto