#they just love others and feel compassion and care and kindness

[betterthanakickintheface]

Speaking as a white person... No, people of colour and wanting to be listened to, believed, valued, consulted, and protected in the countries they live in, and are citizens of(I'm Canadian, but I feel like it's all still Very applicable) -daaaaring to be any kind of vocal about how that doesn't happen and how they are, you know, VERY UNDERSTANDABLY not fucking happy about that are NOT the problem

To feel so comfortable saying so just demonstrates how far up your own clearly racist ass you are, no one who wasn't would double down and reiterate that astoundingly wrong opinion again but with more words

And "zero concrete examples"?? You've got some effective fucking blinders on if you can say that and believe it but think that white people's love of moving the goal posts for, and pseudo-intellectualizing away concerns, struggles and very real dangers to REAL PEOPLE who just aren't you/us isn't a very real and hugely documented, and far-reaching problem you're literally just stupid

There is no other way you can look at or hear people sharing their perspective on their own fucking lives and what is important to them as a person who is *specifically* not white and is not interested - and nor should they be - in being told to shut up, keep waiting 'their turn', quiet down, that their extremely valid and NECESSARY voices and experiences get summarily dismissed as "inane" because white people just can't fucking stop deciding that every single discussion about how white people and whiteness have done and continue to do SO much damage is about them specifically and personally that they at "best" allow their discomfort to not only often ignore objective facts about how AT THE VERY LEAST the vast majority of white people and peoples have historically been Very Shitty Indeed to peoples of colour, even people they just think of as 'not as good a white as us *insert north, western, or central European nations especially here*' but also to override or bypass sympathy, empathy, compassion or even willingness to fucking listen to them about their lives to the point that we white people shut anything not complimentary to us down. We are so fucking fragile that we can't seem to fucking get that not everything is about us, for us, concern us, have to include us and it fucking shouldn't have to. Especially when all we seem interested in is having access to any and all spaces so that we can pretend that "no, everyone else is actually wrong about things they-as a group have all professed to have experienced".

Like... Seemingly one of our favourite fucking things to do is brag about supposedly having friends of different ethnicities and cultures to anyone who will listen, so why do so many of us not fucking listen to them??? Why do so many of us then also not care or believe those friends?? Try to help? Aren't they your friends, OUR friends?? Even if it's a hard pill to swallow, why do so many of us white people actively stand in the way of supporting things that will help our friends, partners, family, coworkers(not to mention children, whether connected to you as an individual or not)?? If our friends and loved ones, wider communities are helped, provided for, listened to does that not also benefit us needy white people too by extension of being in the same potentially improving society that doesn't continue to waste so much fucking time and energy on keeping entire peoples down because white people are either insecurity and hate.

White people have been the "not all men" people who get mad when sexual harassment comes up; and yeah, most people know and believe that but that(usually unnecessary) distinction ultimately is diminishing, dismissing and ignoring the point of the matter which is that the generalized statement and belief that "men do sexual harassment" is because so many people have had those kinds of unpleasant interactions or experience, often repeatedly. Even if they were not talking about you specifically, and you've never done anything misogynistic or worse THEY have enough negative experiences with other men that that statement is true to them even if you find it hard to believe.

White people do that whenever anyone says anything about how we have in the past, but also continue to treat people of colour like shit. Like yeah, no shit not all white people are feral racists, just like not all men are creeps... But I dunno if enough people are saying that "more than a few(separate, unrelated, individual) white people have said/done/legislated negative things to and against me" maybe we should fucking SHUUUUT UUUUUP and believe them?? acknowledge that even if we, as individual white people have never knowingly or intentionally been racist there is still clearly A PROBLEM because we keep being told it is a problem.

So yeah, it's very much white people that have held us all back, even the progressive ones because we cant get out of our own way. And when soooo many of us demonstrably have been unable(or unwilling) to even recognize that, let alone do anything to change it it fucking ruins lives in a very real way and if you can't see that...you yourself are part of the problem with white leftists and progressives

**as a white person, and an untagged-by-OP one at that, I totally understand if you'd prefer I remove my addition to your post, in which case I absolutely will 🖤

Every white leftist should read this

[msunitedstatesjames]

I just played the House of the Dead quest in Veilguard, and it might be my favorite quest in the game so far.

Everything about this quest was great.

The mood was perfect and distinct from other questlines. It was spooky, and gothic, and mysterious, and it was emotionally resonant too with Emmrich's obvious distress over the torment of the spirits. The envionment was such a classic haunted house, which some people might find overused, but I love a haunted house tale.

It was also one of the more substantial companion quests so far in the game. I love all the short and sweet quests we've had so far, but this one took over an hour to complete, had a number of challenging combat situations, had romance options if you're interested in romancing Emmrich, had an engaging mystery, and continued to build on the interesting lore behind the Mourn Watch. It also took you back into the Fade proper, a classic of Dragon Age, and I thought there were lots of entertaining and interesting companion comments/banter on top of it all.

If all that wasn't enough, it does what all the best companion quests in rpgs do, which is to get at the nature of what makes this character tick. I think Emmrich really shines every time you take him out, but this quest really helps to flesh his character out. If his compassion wasn't obvious enough by now, his desperation to find and help the trapped spirits makes that clear. I also just love when the worst thing he can manage to say about the "rogue necromancer" is that he'll have some stern words when you find them.

And then there's Hezenkoss. First of all, she immediately sets herself apart as a memorable villain. I can't even seem to remember the names of the gods we're supposed to be fighting, but this chick gets five minutes of screentime and her name is seared into my memory. She's got that classic, supervillain aura that I kind of miss from movies and tv when I was a kid. She has a very distinct look with her mad scientist glasses, her shining eyes, and her bizarrely cringey hand gestures/dance moves. I was grinning ear to ear the moment she came on screen.

On top of that, she's such a great foil to Emmrich. They come from the same background, they were friends, they even have some of the same desires, namely a desire not to join the dead. But while she chose to use the spirits to her advantage, regardless of the consequences, Emmrich has chosen to be kind, and to live with his natural fears, and to be a teacher. Although I have a feeling that will all be tested a little later on.

A little bit of a side note here, but I love what The Veilguard is doing for Necromancers. I've never once cared about Necromancers before. (Well, maybe once.) They are always portrayed as gloomy and sort of dully evil. Between Emmrich's kind and gentle demeanor and Hezenkoss's whackiness, I'm intrigued.

Anyway, all that to say whoever wrote this quest deserves a raise.

Edit: I almost forgot the hilarious moment you can get where Hezenkoss assumes Emmrich is the main character and calls Rook one of Emmrich's "hangers-on." And then when the battle starts Rook is so offended they feel the need to remind eveyone that they're not a hanger on.

[artist-issues]

What drove me away from Christianity was my pastor saying my autism and ADHD was an excuse for not being able to sit still during church. What the pastor said deeply hurt me and it caused me not to trust any church, even making me angry at Christianity at large for years.

What is your response to this?

I don't think it really matters what my response to it is: it matters what God thinks, and it matters what your response is.

I understand feeling hurt because your pastor reprimanded you for something you actually medically have little to no control over. That is hurtful, because I'm sure it makes you feel like the pastor, the guy who's supposed to be caring for your soul and leading you toward Christ, 1) doesn't understand you and 2) doesn't care about how you feel/what your experience is/what is difficult for you 3) has expectations of you that are out of line with reality, but still wants you to meet them. It's no wonder you were hurt. He should not have said that to you.

But a pastor? A human man who's just doing his best but is actually a hugely sinful creature, just like the rest of us? One pastor is not Christianity.

"Christian" just means "little Christ." A person who's trying to be like Jesus Christ, and has dedicated their life to following Him and doing what He says to do and being in a growing, loving relationship with Him. That's a Christian. So if you "walked away" from that because of what one human man said? Maybe you misunderstood what Christianity is.

It's not a social club that is there to make everybody feel welcome and accepted for who they are. It's not a social club. It's not even really supposed to be what the world calls a "religion," which is another word for "social club with sometimes-cultic practices."

Again: Christianity is supposed to be a person trying to follow Christ and be more like Him, and having a personal relationship with Him while that's going on. One of His commandments is that we do it together, as an imperfect-but-graciously-trying group, so we follow that commandment.

But again, I guess my point is, are you telling me you walked away from any potential relationship with the almighty Deity, the God who made you and loves you and orchestrated the events of history to put Himself through unimaginable torture so that He could be in that relationship with you, an imperfect enemy of His...because some other imperfect creature He created said something hurtful to you?

Would you walk away from your dad because your dad's little brother said something hurtful to you?

I'm not minimizing your hurt. I'm saying, stop attributing what imperfect people do to the perfect God who shows them the same grace He shows you. When you're immature, ignorant, or inconsiderate and hurtful to others, He doesn't approve, but He doesn't smite you with a lightning bolt on the spot, either. Same thing with His response to that pastor who hurt you. He gives you the same grace He gave that pastor. Because it's really all about who God is, who Jesus is, not who the imperfect people who try to serve Him are.

Jesus was not like that pastor. God is not like that pastor. Jesus healed a deaf man. But before He healed that deaf man, He signed out what He was about to do. He took a guy who had been shunned by society for his disability, a guy who was rarely ever communicated with, and before He ever healed him, Jesus compassionately got on his level and took the time to communicate with him. Jesus did not have to do that. He was the supreme Being who spoke that human into existence; AND He was about to take the disability away. He didn't have to be kind and take a moment to treat the deaf man like a human, first. But He did.

Back in the Old Testament? Being left-handed was considered a huge disability. But God chose a left-handed guy to be his prophet, and to be the warrior that killed a monstrous abusive king.

Jesus treated people who had any kind of medical trouble doing what other people do with compassion and grace. God chose those people. That is the example Christians are supposed to follow: that is what the pastor who hurt you got wrong. But what he did was get it wrong. Don't walk away from a relationship with Christ because of what one of His imperfect kids got wrong about Him.

See who Jesus is for yourself and don't let imperfect humans stop you from doing that.

[shitttttttttttttt-cunt]

I know it’s super selfish but I am so scared and sick of the only close ppl in my life being miserable or depressed or constantly troubled with problems. I want someone happy and then I’ll be happy. It’s that simple. But no matter what all the closest relationships I’ve had have consisted of me dealing with someone else’s misery indefinitely and again it’s super selfish that’s why I’m not acting on it and venting it here anonymously but I just fucking can’t stand it and want to have happy people so that I can actually be okay, and I fucking hate depressing and sad shit it’s horrible. I hate anything sad or raw it’s all awful and terrifying and I just want to escape from the constant fear that someone is going to have their next big breakdown and I’ll have to deal with it.

[bunnihearted]

once again crying bc im thinking abt all the homeless cats and dogs and bunnies.... :(

[crescentfool]

beaming everyone on the dashh with good brain day vibes!!! i hope that you all can remember to extend self-compassion to yourself whenever you're feeling down about something 💙

[dnangelic]

dark will always take up immediate issue with those who mock love or emotion as weak i think. irrational at times? sure, he can agree. sensitive, vulnerable? absolutely; inherently, (as a synonym for sincere,) but the moment someone starts legitimately calling love a weakness or an exposed vein only meant to be punctured and drained from, that's when he starts to get angry. dark, as someone who already bears an inherent callousness and apathy, who knows just how easy it is to be cruel, destructive and belligerent, always admires daisuke for the boy's heart and tender, stubborn emotion. like sugisaki's interview mentions, dark is likely someone who bears continuous witness to and understands just how much intense effort can go into someone doing their best in trying to be kind to others; he thinks that he himself never could, at least not even close to the same way that daisuke steadily tries to maintain. those that would mock or scoff at daisuke's, if not the overall idea of kindness, dark won't hesitate to snap at and call weak, pathetic, or cowardly in return. those who prey on others' feelings and scorn or abuse them aren't proving that kindness is a 'weakness;' they're only fouling good things that could have even otherwise been their own with their own 'malicious crap and garbage.'

[daisywords]

idk how to articulate this but maybe instead of getting into a spiral hate yourself love yourself hate yourself love yourself the solution is actually to spend more time contemplating the wonders outside the self like bestie I promise there are more interesting things to think about

[starryserenade]

When I saw that the Topolino comics were making an adaptation of The Little Prince, I was soooo sure Minnie was going to make an appearance as Mickey's precious rose, and/or that we were going to get some whimsified version of that tragic ending.

The end result was still lovely--gorgeous gorgeous artwork and a really creative, beautiful story. But that doesn't mean I wasn't a little bummed that those other elements weren't at all present.

[devilsskettle]

anyway this scene is making me insane like this is literally what i’ve been talking about . i think she is so sick of being confined to her role and like having to be the “good one” or something and having people tell her what she should or shouldn’t do, or should or shouldn’t be okay with, and now with what happened in the desert she’s sorted out her priorities and they’re different from what everyone is telling her they should be and yes one of her priorities is her pro bono work but another one is pulling off these elaborate cons with jimmy and actually those two things are not that different to her, it’s a similar kind of challenge/risk/reward situation . and like she can be honest with herself about what she wants without having it compromise any other part of her life . and for both of them now i think a lot of their boundaries have been revealed to be lines drawn in the sand that are very easy to step over, over and over again . so anyway idk what i’m talking about but i get frustrated for her that other people are constantly trying to put her on a pedestal, because sure it’s nice to be admired but what about like her agency and her actual desires and personality and shit like that . anyway i think she should be allowed to be as fucked up and conniving as she wants. as a treat 

[hiddenbeks]

u ever just. think abt ur warden and the decisions u made in dao and realize they would not make some of the decisions you made. and then u have to replay the game all over again just to do that one (1) thing differently

[bl00dh0rs3]

You should become a muslim.

I don't ever plan on joining any kind of organized religion, because i already know that the stuff i believe won't mesh with any specific one. Um. So thanks but no thanks !

[myrling-art]

I need people to understand how fundamentally important Essek Thelyss is for people like me.

But I am also not super comfortable flaunting my squishy emotions for everyone to see, so we'll be hiding them in the tags because we are so brave but also very soft.

FINAL POLL

Propaganda

Gilmore:

He's fabulous, he's powerful, he dueled the Cinder King and lived to tell the tale, he's fucking gorgeous, he had a really close relationship with Vox Machina that survived being rejected by Vax romantically, he held the barrier over Whitestone and smushed an assassin and over 30 years later he's still Glorious

Essek:

He's gay he's demi he's goth he's a war criminal he's got floaty magic he's got it all, folks

*picture has been changed for a second time. Stop complaining, please*

[apocalypse-bones]

Feel like a fucking zoo animal

[desireangel]

Bad Things | Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aemond is plagued with doubts and seeks refuge in the one place where he is at peace with himself; between his beloved wife's legs.

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only!! this is so in Aemond's thoughts, self doubt, lack of remorse, smut, oral (f receiving), talk of sex, slight breeding kink, Aemond is lost in his head and obsessed with eating his wife out, Aemond may be prince regent of Westeros but he is king of eating pussy, unedited, hmm kinda just porn really - let me know to add anything if need be!

Author's Note: Came home drunk (typos??? potentially. unnecessary droning on??? potentially.) after a couple cocktails and had the urge to erm write. About oral sex specifically, of course. Anywayssss, enjoy (I hope!) - xoxo kisses!!! <3

Masterlist!

Sometimes Aemond let his mind wander to all that could have been and all that could come to be had he only made his decisions differently. He seldom felt regret - never felt as if he would change the things that have led him towards the path of greatness he was on. But what ifs and the memory of failures are as stubborn as a newborn plague and Aemond was just as vulnerable to illness as those whom he revered and those whom he detested. 

It was warm under the light of the setting sun, a kiss on his skin as Aemond rested against the balcony at the window and watched over what he longed to have for himself. If things had been different, at any time and any place, where would he be now?

The thought of living his life without his injury had come to sicken him but it lingered at the back of his mind. Had certain moments taken a different turn, would he still feel the need to drive people to respect him through fear and prove himself worthy at every chance he could find? Aemond swallowed at the thought. And he stood there, looking to the skies as if the clouds could free him from the suffocation of the feelings that had haunted him since the night he lost his eye. 

Feelings of failure, feelings of defeat, feelings of fear and feelings of humiliation. 

Even after meeting you, and understanding that loving you meant different things - things he wasn’t familiar with, things he wasn’t sure he was capable of becoming familiar with - the lingering thought of what if was all consuming.

Aemond could hear you coming seconds before you were beside him. He was thankful you stood by his side, silently and wordlessly as your eyes dragged across his face, analysing what you could of his thoughts from his perfected emotionless expression. Quiet moments like this, where Aemond got lost in his mind grew fewer at each move he made within this war.

But here you both were, silently in each other’s company. Aemond was a passionate lover. But he was also at times a cold and imperfect partner. And some of those times where he retreated into himself, although he had rarely lost control of himself in front of you, left him vexed at your presence.  

Because to Aemond, you were perfect. Frustrating at times but that was often the fault of his own lack of patience and tolerance. You were, at the end of the day, too perfect. He saw your compassion, your empathy, your kindness. And he saw your strength, your wit, your fearsome loyalty.

And here Aemond was, unable to even regret many of the times he acted without any of those perfect things. After the fate that Lucerys had met, Aemond found he could not find it in himself to feel remorse for much else. 

You let your fingers graze along the leather sleeve on his arm, your light touch burning into his skin through the fabric. He closed his eye and kept it closed for minutes of silence that felt like hours before he spoke lowly.

“I have done bad things.”

You sucked in a breath. “Would you be here today if you had not done those things?”

“No, you do not understand me. I cannot bring myself to care for some of the vile things that I have done. That I have caused. I should care, should I not?” 

Releasing a long sigh, you shifted on your feet. Aemond knew that you were different to him. You didn’t agree with many of his actions and decisions but you knew there was nothing you could do except to be there when he needed you. It had taken time to realise you couldn’t change the way he thought, the way he felt, the way he reacted to things - you weren’t sure if you truly, deeply wanted to take on that burden. 

As Aemond grew more honest with you, you had come to realise that when it came down to it he was not a completely good man. But he was good to you and while Aemond saw your strength, you knew you were weak when it came to him. Loyalty and love for your husband burned painfully in your chest no matter his imperfections and you never bothered to try to justify it. 

“Perhaps if I had acted differently, somewhere,” Aemond’s words were rushed, a switch from his normally slow drawl. He would curse himself tomorrow for his moment of weakness but he couldn’t ignore the pit in his stomach. “Then I would not be the way that I am now.”

You stared at him for a moment. His expression was of ice and had you not known him the way that you do, then you would never have noticed the confliction in his eyes. “There is no use-”

“I know there is no use in thinking about what may have been, I know,” Aemond spat. 

“Alright,” you paused. “But you will never know what could have changed. You made your decisions, you were the author of your own fate, Aemond. ‘Tis the way things go - we must face it. What difference would it make if things could have been different? You cannot undo what you have already done.”

Aemond’s jaw ticked and he moved so that his arm hung at your waist. You briefly glanced back inside at the servant who prepared your nightly cup of tea at your bedside. Aemond seldom made a show of your relationship when you weren’t entirely alone. Nevertheless, you didn’t let your mind linger on that fact. 

He gazed down at you, his ocean-strong eye never failing to make your breath hitch and goosebumps to rise on your skin. You were relieved that he seemed to agree with your words. Aemond’s shoulders had lost much of the tension they held and the start of the sweet smile that was shared only with you played on his lips. 

He had to try hard to believe what you had told him. Because here you were, no matter what he did and no matter his lack of conviction, at his side and wrapped around his finger. You were the calming breeze that cooled his heat, you were the shade that gave him relief from the scorching sun and you were the water that flushed the burn from his skin. Aemond was not one to be an emotional man but he knew that he had love for you and your endless, boundless support. And he dreamed of how he would share with you the world that will one day be at his feet. 

“I shall share your bed tonight, my love.” Aemond’s words were as they always have been; smooth with honey but laced with venomous promises. You bit back a smile as he pulled you inside, addicted to whatever venom dripped from his words, from his eye, from him.  “And that shall serve as all the reminder that I need to be sure I have not been so misguided that I have lost my way to no return.” 

When he pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, dragging it along your soft skin, he inhaled deeply. Aemond thought for a moment of how perfect it would be if he could bottle your scent and keep it with him forever. A reminder of the woman for whom he wished he could become a good, honest man. 

Your body felt so familiar to him that it made his mind turn quiet and Aemond could only think of having you closer, closer, closer. And it was never close enough, no matter how hard he squeezed at the flesh of your hips to pull you in, no matter how your breath tickled his skin and  how your eyelashes fluttered against his hair as he dragged his lips over your shoulder and along the side of your neck. 

If there were no roof atop your heads, you would have thought that it rained flames onto the both of you and to relieve the burn of it, you melted into Aemond, pressing yourself further into him and squirming for more as he grabbed at your nightclothes to toss them to the floor. 

You tugged hopelessly at the buckles on his tunic, whining. “Get it off, Aemond.”

Aemond didn’t need to be told a second time because hardly a moment later he was as naked as you were, pushing you until the back of your legs hit the edge of your bed and you fell onto it gently. A strained groan fell from his lips as he let you pull him down with you, holding his face in your hands as he held himself above you with an arm beside your head. You gently removed the leather that covered his glimmering sapphire, sighing contently. 

Admiring Aemond as he was, bare and honest and beautiful had become your favourite way to see him. Without the need to hide any part of himself from you. 

Smirking, he let his lips graze yours softly. It was a stark contrast to the way Aemond’s other hand was roughly grabbing at whatever flesh he could hold, squeezing you and sending shockwaves straight through to your core. 

You could barely get the words out of you. “Kiss me–Gods, kiss me.”

And he did kiss you, his lips desperately clashing against yours with a new kind of vigour. Aemond rarely kissed you with such force, such rage and such raw, unfettered need. But as his teeth knocked against yours, catching your lip in between and drawing blood, he entertained the thought that maybe he did regret something. All of the kisses he never had the chance to give you. 

The air between you was charged with something sharp and electric, a primal energy that clouded your head and had you gasping Aemond’s name at the way he brushed his knuckle against your core. Normally, he would have taken his time with you. But despite the fact that you had the entire night ahead of you, Aemond was rushed and impatient. 

“Always so ready for me,” he murmured, taking in a sharp breath as his fingers rubbed through your slick folds, pulling a soft whine from you. Aemond’s cock twitched at the perfect sound and he ground his hips against the plush of your thigh. He dragged the pads of his fingers teasingly up from the slit of your hole to the hood of your clit, drawing teasing circles so softly you could have been convinced his touch was a figment of your fantasies. 

“Aemond, please-”

He shushed you softly. “Patience, my sweet.”

Aemonds lips, wet on your jaw, travelled down the expanse of your neck and over your collarbones. He nibbled at you, amused at the way you arched and squirmed, replacing his fingers with his cock and sliding it against your clit. When his lips met your nipple he sucked harshly with a flick of his tongue, giving your right breast hardly enough attention before turning to the other. 

It sent shivers down your spine and you were sure Aemond felt you shudder against him when his lips travelled lower, leaving a wet trail down your skin until he was finally just below your naval. Aemond turned his head, his teeth pinching the flesh of your thigh harshly, just above where your thigh curved into your pelvis. You squealed. 

“Hm,” He chuckled darkly, smiling up at you and shaking his head with a deep tsk when your legs instinctively moved to shut. His hands groped at your thighs and pushed them up so that you were folded yet entirely spread in front of him. “I will fuck you with my tongue first. And my fingers. Then I will fuck you with my cock and fill you with my seed, only after I have made you quiver and shake from the pleasure of my mouth on your perfect cunt.”

Aemond’s eye dropped to your sopping cunt and his words coiled in his throat, coming out as a muffled moan. You gasped as he lewdly spat, his head falling downwards in an instant, wave after wave of pleasure stealing the oxygen from your lungs as he sucked on your pussy, tongue weaving across your clit and back down. 

All of the loud doubts that plagued his mind turned into whispers of incoherence the moment his mouth met the velvety skin of your womanhood, Aemond’s favourite place to lose himself when his thoughts became unbearable. The tangy, sweet taste of your arousal pulled a deep growl from his chest and when your hips jerked against his face, he wrapped a strong arm over your hips to hold you in place. 

As Aemond’s tongue dipped into you, his lips latched on the expanse of your cunt, you let out a cry, your hand falling to his hair and pulling hard. Your body was hot with desire, thighs squeezing your husband’s head as he greedily feasted on the most intimate parts of you. He pulled away for one quick second to catch his breath before burying himself in you once again, the obscene smacking sounds of how he relentlessly sucked and lapped at your slit. 

For such vulgar noises, they had become increasingly beautiful. 

“I dream of staying here forever,” Aemond’s words were muffled, difficult to hear over your own whimpers and the movement of his lips on your folds had you bucking to follow his mouth. He hid his grin in your wetness. “I can do no wrong with the taste of you on my tongue.”

The pleasure that Aemond always submerged you was almost becoming overwhelming and you lost the ability to form sentences, muttering and mumbling in response. He could decipher his name, falling for your flushed lips so many times, and his eye flickered up to watch how your body climbed to the highest point of satisfaction where such a sinful act became heavenly. 

You were always beautiful, Aemond thought. But you were at your most beautiful when you came undone for him, lost in the throes of bliss and grasping at him as if you could not live for another second without his touch. He carried you through your orgasm, unrelenting as he greedily devoured every part of your pussy, looking up at you with his darkened eye and shining sapphire, strands of his hair that had come loose sticking to the wetness on his jaw. Aemond relished in the strangled, melodic sounds that you made for him. 

When you jerked away from him with a squeal, so sensitive when the tip of his tongue flicked against your clit that your hips bucked suddenly, Aemond pulled away while chuckling and placing featherlight kisses along your shaking thighs. He watched how your cunt continued to clench around nothing as you came down from your orgasm, the messy mixture of his spit and your arousal glistening under the light from the lamps. 

You let yourself relax into the bedsheets and moved to close your legs, tugging Aemond to meet you for a kiss and giggling when he stopped to quickly wipe your slick from his face. But before your knees could come together, he caught them, settling himself in between and you could feel the steady heat from his hardened cock grazing across the outside of your slit. 

“I think my pretty wife believes she is going to have a restful night,” Aemond teased against your lips, sliding a hand down between your bodies and spreading your folds once again to make way for his fingers. You shuddered against him with a mewl. “You are mistaken, my love, if you believe I will not have you full of my seed by the time I am done making love to you. I am a man of my word, am I not?”

[surftrips]

SWEET NOTHING

pairing: luke castellan x reader

summary: y/n comforts luke after he sees percy claimed by poseidon.

word count: 600+

a/n: y'all i know. how many more morally grey characters can i write fics for? i couldn't help it, he's so bf in the first two episodes so this takes place in a world where he’s done nothing wrong <3

You watched as your boyfriend’s face changed after seeing the newest camp member, Percy Jackson, claimed by his father, Poseidon. 

Luke wasn’t one of the unclaimed kids, but he might as well have been. His relationship with his father Hermes was a strained one, but he pretended like it didn’t bother him. 

But now, it was hard not to notice the sadness and frustration that had clouded Luke’s face as he watched the trident appear above Percy’s head. Before you could go over to comfort him, he had already run away from the scene. 

You decided to give him some space, figuring that he had gone back to his cabin. As the other camp members slowly dispersed, you looked around for Annabeth. 

Upon laying your eyes on the dark-haired girl in the crowd of people, you beckoned her over. 

“Hey! Did you see that?” she asked you, excitedly.

“Yeah, that was crazy!” you admitted. “How’d you know he was Poseidon’s?”

“I’ve been watching him.”

“Of course,” you smiled. Luke had told you about Annabeth's desire to find “The Chosen One.” 

“Wait- where’s Luke?” she asked, as if on cue.

“I was gonna talk to you about that- I think he ran back to his cabin.”

“What- why?”

“I think he had some feelings about Percy being claimed, if you know what I mean.” 

“Oh,” Annabeth replied, putting the pieces together. 

“Yeah, I’m giving him some space right now, but do you have any advice on how to approach this? I don’t want to upset him any more.”

“Look, Y/N, you’re his girlfriend. Just do your best to comfort him and I’m sure he’ll start to feel better.”

“I know, but you’re his sister! You know him best, what if I say the wrong thing?” 

“You can’t say the wrong thing. He loves you, Y/N. He just needs to see that someone is there for him.” 

“Okay, thank you, Annabeth,” you gave her a hug before heading in the direction of the Hermes cabin. 

You were relieved to find that the other campers had not gotten back yet. You gently pushed open the door and found yourself facing your boyfriend’s back sitting on his bed. 

“Luke?” you called out.

He turned to face you, hastily swiping at the tears that had fallen onto his cheeks. 

“Oh, sweet boy, come here,” you ran over to take him in your arms. He let his tears fall again, and your heart broke seeing him like this. You knew that he acted brave all the time, but deep down, he was hurting.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just let it out,” you attempted to calm him down. 

“Why doesn’t he care about me?” he cried.

“Baby, it’s okay. He doesn’t matter, alright? It has nothing to do with you.” 

“Yes, it does. Percy killed a minotaur and broke Clarisse’s spear and his dad just came swooping in.” 

“Look at me,” you pulled away to lift his face up. “You are so, so special. Anyone that knows you can say that. Hell, you’re the best swordsman in this camp. But you know what else? You’re kind, and caring, and you have all this compassion in your heart, despite it all. If he can’t see your worth in that, then that’s a reflection of him, not you.” 

Luke didn’t say anything, instead he worked on catching his breath as you continued to rub his back and lay kisses on his forehead. 

“Thank you,” he said after a moment, still sniffling. 

“For what, baby?” 

“For seeing me. And staying.”

“To know you is to love you, Luke Castellan,” you gave him another kiss, this time on his lips.