#two bog girls

[radiant-flutterbun]

Karmine got the Shadow Aura and Larievella got the accent Illusionary Coin!

[dwellsinthebog]

i may be cringe but i am free heyyyy what if labrumisu had kids

[poebrey]

probably for the best that we’re likely never going to see Michael and Book get married on screen because I would’ve been lowkey annoyed if I had to watch her get married in her dress uniform or worse and not like, the Iris Van Herpen fungi collection, or a Gersha Phillips original

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i swear i have the body of a 50 yr old. i did something mildly active for less than an hour today and my back Aches. who authorized this

[timothylawrence]

Hiii my Tav, Tara (not the tressym) here to introduce herself 🥺

At first glance she may seem selfish and standoffish but in reality she's a ride or die friend. You got enemies? She'll electrocute them! Need a hypeman? She is surprisingly good with words - think of someone brutally honest but they use it to compliment you. She is also short and lives in a bog :)

TARAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love thinking about her and Rana so often omg... i love standoffish characters sm. I think Rana would really like the selfish nature- she's been there and oftentimes she's still there. I think she'd compliment Rana and Rana would just stare o_o with her face as red as her hair before avoiding her for a day hahahaha!!!! Also her and Rana are both short but powerful I LOVE THAT!!!!!!!!!!! I love the idea of her watching Rana do a cool stealthy move and then cheering her on which makes her mess up ahahhaahah

[mummer]

a good man goes to war probably the Most doc who episode of all time. The epic highs and lows of moffat. it’s possible that trying to combine your screwball high flying funky star wars homage episode with your self serious very important character and plot development episode is stupid and does not work… or maybe it does? But of course combined with one of the most insanely dumb plot reveals of all time, to have ever happened on this earth. But also karen gillan acting down. But also… flesh baby. Look how they impregnated my girl literally probably the most fucked up and evil thing to happen to a companion like whatttt is this? BUT ALSO THE INTRO OF VASTRA AND JENNY AND STRAX. But also flesh baby…..Unless flesh baby is secretly awesome? im coming around to flesh baby. But also amy trapped in a well george lucas gave his girls more agency in the 70s moffat you freak. Is this episode legendarically terrible is it Really cool and awesome and ambitious and doing the most all the time are there themes. Can we unpack this. No. Like it’s literally all in service of some stupid bullshit really.. But what if it wasnt

[bogunicorn]

I've done my share of nitpicking about Kanej in the show so let me just say that the choice to put not one, but two of their significant scenes in chapels and liken Kaz's feelings toward Inej to religious faith was an A+ adaptational choice, I love it, I hope they keep doing it.

[wheatstar]

also i turned a bunch of normal ocs into warrior cats yesterday

[shrekshrek]

oh boy, can't wait to get a head start on this homework!!! let's see

ah. well. uh.

a win is a win

[painted--constellations]

woke up from an awful dream and i don’t even understand what it was all about

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Shape of Story

by Christina Wodtke 

Start with Conflicted Characters

The character needs a goal, a motivation and a conflict.

The goal can be alien to your audience,

but the motivation must be shared by them, and

the conflict creates struggles that increase engagement.

Paint a Picture

Details transport you into the story.

The world disappears and you have a story play in your head.

Even though there are no literal pictures.

But be careful—Too many details and the story gets bogged down.

Make the Protagonist Suffer

“Be a Sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them - in order that the reader may see what they are made of.” (Kurt Vonnegut, How to Write a Great Story)

And when it can’t get any worse, make it worse before it gets better

The two key moments that create the peak of excitement in a story is the darkness before the dawn, and the dawn. 

The climax is the moment when the protagonist is either rescued or rescues themself.

In older tales, we saw a lot of Deux ex Machina (the hand of god) rescuing the hero. A hero could be rescued by luck, a partner, another hero…but modern audiences strongly prefer stories where the protagonist helps themself.

Resolution is Boring, Keep it Short

Interest grows with every additional conflict, but once the hero figures out the solution, our fascination collapses.

Don’t natter on while the audience’s mind is drifting.

Also Consider:

You need a good inciting incident to move your protagonist to action.

A setting is more than a place, it’s a situation and a moment in time. A vivid place has details.

Modern audiences prefer “return home changed” to “return home the same.”

EXAMPLES: ARCHETYPAL PLOTS ALONG THE ARC

Boy Meets Girl

Internal conflict is always satisfactory (e.g., she believes love interferes with his career, he believes love interferes with his beer.)

The crises usually revolves around betrayal — lying, cheating — and the climax shows it was a misunderstanding or we get atonement.

The struggle is always about them being separated.

The resolution is about binding them more tightly together than ever.

The Quest

You seek things, and find yourself.

Return home changed and don’t pass go.

Common elements include companions, a mentor, great losses and extreme character arcs.

The Underdog

Even though they do not have a shot in hell, the underdog wants something. They want it so bad.

Common elements include an enemy who blocks their path, and a coach who helps them forward.

In this case, they do not return home changed but rather move into a new life that fits their changed self.

Coming of Age

Naive person has the world teaches them a hard lesson, and they become a better person for it.

Struggle revolve around life sucking and then sucking more.

The hero grows and becomes better because of it, and via new understandings becomes competent.

In some tragedies, the world breaks them.

They can return home changed, but more often they move to a new life they have earned.

More Examples. Justice & Pursuit:

Weaving Multiple Plots:

Weaving multiple plots together to make subplots can further increase tension.

Multiple plots woven together makes the whole story not only unique but very compelling.

Writing Notes & References

[lovelyisadora]

That was a joke but now I'm thinking abt it tbh

ok me too but in a different way, jenna is discovered early but before she can be killed she too gets infant swapped, and then the heaps would probably have to scatter to avoid the repercussions of protecting the princess, and I’m still working on the rest of it

[moeblob]

I normally don't bother reblogging my ocs to main (I have done the reverse a couple times) but guys I just want you to know that I love these weird siblings. I don't have much experience drawing dragons but I can learn later.

I really missed these siblings.

[archangeldyke-all]

this (https://www.tumblr.com/sirenserendipity/756663158124462080/girls-are-so-annoying-bro-why-are-you-asking-me-if) with Sevi & chubby!reader pls 😣🙏🏾

hhhhhh fuck. this is so... so hot...

men and minors dni

sevika knows you get insecure sometimes.

there are so many assholes in the world-- insistent to make their own sexual preferences for a smaller body everybody else's problem.

she knows the shitty quips people toss your way. even your family and friends. teasing you for the double chin she adores, for the big belly that makes sevika so aroused sometimes she has to sit down, for the thick thighs that she wants to suffocate between when she's old and ready to go.

people know not to say shit about your body in front of her anymore. she's broken enough noses in your defense for word to have gotten around.

but still. that doesn't stop the past from creeping up on you sometimes, or society's shitty expectations from bogging you down.

sevika tries her best to lift your spirits when you're feeling particularly insecure. she's always sure to keep you within reach, sure to touch you more often, place kisses on your cheeks once or twice an hour. she tries to hype you up each morning when you get dressed, always enjoying the way you get flustered and shy. she tries to keep her dirty talk more praising than demeaning when you're feeling shaky, replacing her typically fond teases about your whines and moans, her adoring little 'sluts', with whispers about how pretty you look and sound, how lucky she is to have you.

she knows you can't help it-- she knows it's not your fault. but it fucking kills her to see you feeling so shitty about yourself, because to her you're the most beautiful woman in the world.

but sometimes, she loses her patience.

like now.

"fuck, i love you so much baby." sevika whispers into your cunt where she's feasting on you.

you whimper above her, and sevika smirks just a little at the sound. your fingers tighten in her hair, her eyes roll back in her head, and then you whisper: "y-you do?"

rage flares up in sevika's stomach.

you guys have been together for four years, for fuck's sake, she's planning on proposing to you on your next trip out of town! hasn't she proven how much she loves you?

"oh, for fuck's sake." sevika growls as she snaps up from between your legs, storming over to her dresser to grab her strap.

you look up at her with worried eyes. "wha--?" you don't get time to worry much more, because sevika's storming over to the bed and flipping you onto your stomach.

"i. am so fucking sick. of you asking me that." she growls as she tugs your hips and ass into the air.

you gasp underneath her. "wha-- i--"

"you. are the love. of my fucking. life." she punctuates each phrase of her sentence with a smack to your ass, making you squeal.

you can make out the jingling of sevika pulling her strap up her hips, and you have to bury a pathetic moan against the sheets. sevika smacks your ass again, and pulls your head out of the mattress.

"lemme hear you." she grunts as she slips two fingers inside you. you gasp, sevika's fingers grazing your g-spot expertly, making your thighs shake and shiver.

"s-sev--"

"i love you, you hear me?" she grunts. you nod against the sheets, tears falling down your cheeks from the pleasure. sevika smacks your ass again, and it makes you clench around her hard enough for both of you to groan. "say it." she demands.

you sputter. "i-i-- what?" you ask.

"say i love you." she demands.

"i love you." you say. sevika snorts behind you.

"no baby. tell me that you know that i love you."

"i-i know." you whimper.

"you know what?" she asks. you gulp, choking on embarrassment and insecurity. sevika smacks your ass one more time, then presses her thumb to your clit as her fingers continue to ram inside of you. "say it." she demands.

you struggle some more stuttering and unable to find the words-- distracted by sevika's hands.

then, she stops moving. you gasp. "wha!?" you ask, pushing up onto your arms to look behind you at your girlfriend. "why'd you sto--"

"say it."

you gulp, and sevika wiggles her fingers inside you, just a bit. you whimper and collapse back onto the bed, hiding your face from her view and mumbling against the covers.

"you love me." you whisper.

"you're damn fucking right i do." sevika grunts as she starts moving her fingers inside you again.

you cry out in pleasure, and when sevika slips a third finger inside you, you gasp. "i'm gonna--"

"cum." sevika demands, giving your ass one more smack.

you tip over the edge easily, collapsing against the mattress-- sevika's hand following you, working her fingers inside of you as you shiver and moan through your orgasm.

she doesn't give you a second to catch your breath. instead, she flops you onto your back and pulls you to the edge of the bed, lining her cock up with your hole. "listen to me." she growls. "i'm gonna fuck you, and you're gonna keep tellin' me how much i love you. and if you stop, i stop. you understand?"

you gulp and nod up at sevika, and she grins, swooping down to kiss you, sliding inside of you easily.

you whimper against her lips. she starts a slow pace with her hips, letting you adjust, kissing you through the initial uncomfortable stretch.

and then, when you start to moan, she pulls away from your mouth and grins down at you.

you try to turn your face away from her, feeling shy and vulnerable. she reaches up with her hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to look back at her. "i love you." she prompts.

you gulp and scrunch your eyes closed, then speak shakily. "y-you love me."

"fuck." sevika grunts, her hips picking up their pace as she starts kissing a trail down your throat. "i love you so fuckin' much, baby."

"y-ah!" you gasp when she bites your shoulder. she chuckles against you, then continues her path down your body. "y-you love me so fuckin' much." you repeat.

sevika giggles against your tit, sucking on your nipple with her mouth while her hand pinches the other. "lub' y'r tits." she mumbles against you.

"you-you love my tits." you whimper when she bites your nipple.

she reaches down with her hand to grope your stomach, licking her lips as she ogles the way your belly shakes and jiggles in time with her thrusts. "love your stomach." she growls.

"you love my stomach."

"gonna put my fuckin' kid in it someday." she whispers under her breath. you clench around her strap at the words, and she chuckles. "fuck, i love you." she says.

"you love me." you repeat, too drunk on pleasure to feel any shyness.

"i do. so much."

"you love me."

"there you go. good fuckin' girl. keep goin'." she demands.

"you love me!" you gasp when she ducks back down and starts sucking a hickey into your tits.

"y-you l-love m-me!" you stutter as her hips pick up impossibly faster, slowly scooting you across the bed.

"oh, fuck! you love me! you love me! you love me!" you squeal as she sinks her teeth into your throat, one of her hands clawing your plush thigh, the other rubbing your clit. "you--!"

sevika bites your throat so hard you're pretty sure she draws blood. you cum instantaneously.

she cums inside you the moment you begin to cum around her, both of you lost in each other, animalistic grunts and howls filling the room as she continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

and then...

you burst into giggles, and sevika lifts her head up from your throat to look down at you. "you okay?" she asks. she knows she's been rougher with you than she usually would be.

"you love me." you sigh, content and confident in the words. sevika grins.

"yeah, i do, dumbass." she whispers.

you start to giggle again, and you manage to find just enough post-earth-shattering-orgasm strength to reach up and pull her down for a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty

[barbieaemond]

The order of things

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: mild angst, masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), grinding

Word count: 3k

Taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee @credulouskhaleesi @bunbunbl0gs @alphard-hydraes-blog

MASTERLIST

There is a raven that flies towards the rookery as soon as the sun is high enough to bathe the Keep in orange. It always comes at the same split minute, Aemond sees it every day, because it is the same split minute in which his training ends. Sometimes he even manages to get the better of the bird, then looks up as he sheathes his sword and awaits him. As soon as it crosses the sky he leaves the courtyard.

His day is like a prayer, devoutly tenacious and unchanging. A bath, breakfast, a flight on dragonback, a book. A visit to Helaena and the twins if the reading bores him.

Someone might say that even his walk is always the same. Rigour and order, to be everything Aegon is not.

This time, he disarms Ser Criston well in advance, so much that the raven has yet to show itself, and when it does, Aemond will be blind to his passing.

"Mother," he says curtly as the Queen passes by. She goes to pray as she does every morning, always at the same time. She too is a creature devoted to rigour, and duty; she has seized her days and clutched them in her fist to prevent them from floating through her.

She pauses to greet him, her voice as mellifluous as ever and her eyes just as warm, and then suddenly, he turns to look at her as if he is looking at a stranger, as if she is speaking a language he does not know. "I wanted to tell you that I'm going to see some girls today, to choose your new maid."

"What's wrong with my maid?"

"Well, I figured she might ask for a leave as the wedding approaches."

He blinks, he stalls, he bogs, unnaturally, the sand stops in the hourglass. The raven glides over the towers, unnoticed.

"Yes, of course." he says, sheathing his sword, and the sand flows again, grain by grain; the funnel shrunk.

Everything in his life is part of that rigour, even people, even her.

She has been in his service long enough to know without asking when the scar pulls to the point of requiring medication. She has been in his service long enough to know that a slight frown in his eyebrows is enough to make her close the curtains and prevent the light from worsening the pain in his head, to know that he likes his venison rather raw, that he hates that doublet because the sleeves are puffed and he feels like a court jester. And she tacitly made it disappear.

She does everything without uttering a word. She doesn't need to ask, she moves when he moves, she has adapted to him like a second skin, and she doesn't seem harmed by the edges.

Yet he is harmed by something, as she pulls off his boots in front of the fireplace. He sees a flat sea where he would like to see a storm. He sees grains flowing and wishes to crash the glass.

"Do you need anything else my Prince?" she has a seraphic expression on her face, and he sees deception. She speaks in a firm, devoted voice, and he hears betrayal.

He stares at her with the eye that looks like a needle, feels like it, then shifts his gaze to the fire and says "I will be in need of your assistance tomorrow, for the whole day."

"The whole day?"

"Yes. Why? Do you have something better to do than the duties you are paid for?"

She is no novice to his bitter tongue; somehow, stupidly, naively and recklessly, she is able to imbue it with treacle when it enters her head. It doesn't matter anyway, her foolishness will end as soon as she takes her vows.

"No. Of course not. I'll be at your service, my Prince."

"Hmm, until?"

"Until?"

"You should be the one to tell me. When is the wedding due?"

Her eyes widen like two large moons and she seems to crumple in on herself, on the floor she is kneeling on, under the Prince's unwavering, iron eye. She feels her throat tighten and yet his hands are steady along the armrests. She feels her lungs crackle against her ribcage. "I—"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Why didn't she?

"My prince, I thought your Grace should not be bothered with such trivial matters."

"I decide what to be bothered about." He says in an imperative tone. "When would you have bothered to inform me? Is this how you show loyalty to your prince? Keeping things from me?"

She glues her eyes to the floor, she cannot hold the Prince's gaze, not when he is like this, even though he has never been like this. He looks angry, he looks outraged? As if he has been wronged. That look makes her blood run cold, and then it melts in red down her cheeks and neck. It would be too easy to blame the chimney behind her back, easy but necessary, to keep things in order. Prince and servant, nothing more. What else is there?

There are heavy sighs falling in the dark, stranded between the sheets as his bones boil and tense at the climax, desire spilled, wasted. But that's fine. To not be all that Aegon is. This too has become rigour, part of the order of things.

It is the order of things to watch her kneel at his feet and wish to spill his desire into her mouth. As is seeing her nails always neat and tidy scratching the floor as her back arches against him, as is seeing the blood reddening her cheeks and neck, and wanting to lick it as far as it goes. 

Someone else will do it. An ordinary man of no consequence in the order of things, the real one.

"You may go." he says coldly, hoping the frost of his tongue will cool the feverish blood under his skin.

She rises from the floor with a bowed, desolate head. "I bid you good night, my Prince."

The next morning he asks her to change the sheets, and he turns his back on her, ashamed, as if she knows she is in those sheets.

He takes a bath while she does her chores, finishing exactly when he does, because she moves when he moves. She helps him put on a dark green robe, unperturbed by his nudity, because that is her duty and it no longer makes her blush.

There's never been clumsiness in her hands, but there is today. Aemond feels her hands heavy as boulders when she prepares the ointment for his eye, when she leans over him to remove his eyepatch. She doesn't speak to him as she always does, oozing that glimmer of amusement when she brings up the servants' petty feuds and wars.

"You're rather quiet today." He asserts later, as she buttons his doublet "Has the armistice been reached in the kitchens?"

She opens in a brief smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I don't know, Your Grace. I find myself spending a lot more time outside the Keep these days."

"Is that so?” He retorts, narrowing his eye “Hmm, is that why my books are still on the desk?"

She finishes her buttoning and ties her hands on her modest skirt. "I am sorry, Your Grace. I will see to it that they are put in order at once."

"I have no use for your apology. Why didn't you do it when I told you to?"

"Your mother gave me a leave for a few hours yesterday."

"And why did you ask my mother and not me? You are in my service, not hers."

She keeps looking down like a suspect on trial and swallows. "I went to Flea Bottom to buy some fabric for my wedding dress. I was ashamed to ask you for a leave for something so frivolous. As a woman, I thought your mother would understand."

"You will do no such thing in the future. Hide things from me and leave the Keep without my permission, or I'll have you punished. Am I being clear?"

"Your Grace, I…” she pauses, she looks down, she swallows, but it’s now or never. “You should know that I will no longer be here after the wedding. I am going to formally resign my position. Your Mother has already-"

His eye goes wide, and wild, and he breathes loudly until he is snarling. "Are you deaf or dense? Did you not hear me? You will not leave my service."

The moons in her eyes are full now. She looks at him, begging him to let her go, because that is the natural course of things. She will marry a common man, give him a couple of children and live a quiet life in the country, where her groom has a smallholding of land, their only source of wealth if they do not want a life of misery in Flea Bottom. And she is fine with that. She has accepted it. She is like any other common girl, she cannot dream, her blood is only red, there's no castle nor crown waiting for her.

She has accepted her fate with the calmness of a stream that lets itself be carried along by its current. She is happy like this, because as far as she could, in that silly way in which all ordinary girls dream, she dreamed, even though her dream is made of flesh and blood.

She had shivered when he had leaned over her when he taught her to read. She had breathed in deeply to know what he smelled like. She had felt ice in her stomach under his gaze when she read a few pages to him. And that is more than dreaming.

She cannot remain in his service, because she is an ordinary girl and more than dream, she cannot want.

"Your Grace..." she begs, going down to the floor "I beg you. Let me go my way. I believe I have always served you to the best of my ability and if I’ve ever failed you in something, name it. I will do anything to make it right."

Aemond bogs again, but in something far more paralysing and at the same time overwhelming than all his rigour. Perhaps it is the sight of her on her knees again, her head bowed and devoted, and the fact that he wants to touch that devotion, wants to taste it and swallow it.

Slowly, he lifts her chin with two fingers, eye blind to everything else; his thumb moves over her lower lip as if to know its edges, as if he has wanted to do this all his life.

"Anything?" he asks in the voice of another, the one stranded in the sheets.

She nods slowly, and the movement rubs his thumb against her teeth for a moment, forcing him to swallow, to give himself control, not to push his finger in. He is not Aegon, He is not Aegon, he is not Aegon.

"Would you be willing to please me?" he asks, and his question reaches some remote place in her, that place where a girl can dream and want freely. In that place, if he had asked once, twice, a hundred times, she would have bent to his will, not to the duty of the servant who must please her lord. Sure, that too. But first of all to her will. It is a question that need not be asked, for there is but one answer.

"Yes..."

Blood flows into her cheeks, breathing out fire from her lips. "How...? How do you want me to please you, my Prince?"

"With this..." he replies, pushing his thumb over her lip.

Her hands move fluidly over the belt and buttons of his breechers as if she had done this countless times before. She helps him dress, she knows his body even though she has never touched him. She has never touched a man in her life, not like this. Aemond reads the embarrassment on her cheeks and he basks in it with a glimmer of pride, because he will be the first.

Gently, he places a hand behind her head, tilting it a little, and looks at her with his heavy, clouded eye, enthralled. "Open your mouth..."

He knows she's never done this before, but the hot alcove of her mouth is enough to make him open his mouth and let out air in a broken cadence. She raises her eyes as if to ask if she is doing something wrong, and the sight, real and not the outcome of some delusion hidden in the dark, smothers his breath. He begins to thrust into her mouth slowly, hardening quickly as she continues to look at him and welcome him into her mouth with the devotion with which one kneels to the Seven.

"Gevie..." he pants hoarsely, brushing his fingers through her hair "You look more beautiful than I thought like this..."

His hand in her hair never tightens, though his hips move faster and the wet sound is the only one that keeps his panting company.

"Your cheeks..." he instructs her "Hollow your cheeks..."

And just as when he was teaching her to read, she listens , sucking agonisingly slowly. “Fuck—” he curses, threading his long fingers through her hair and pulling at the roots; he thrusts faster so that she has to grip his waist with her hands but when he senses she can’t breathe, he lets of her head and slips out of her scorching lips, hissing at feeling the cold air of the room.

She’s panting hard, with her mouth open and slick with him. But she has little time to catch a puff of air. He thrashes her on the carpet, with a rough kiss full of teeth and growls, and his hands move like talons, pulling her modest skirts up to her waist.

“No—My Prince—” she muffles on his mouth, pleading but desperate all together “We can’t—”

“I won’t ruin you, I promise.” he says rummaging through her garments “Just let me feel you this once—”

He finds her core with his large hand, hot and slick, and she whimpers loudly in his open mouth. “Do you get this wet for your groom, hmm? Or just for your Prince?” 

She unconsciously bucks her hips against his hand and he smiles, delightfully, against her neck, licking a stripe down her throat. “I’m in need of an answer, my sweet girl…” he says raising his head, the leather piece is about to fall behind his disheveled hair. “Have you touched yourself thinking of me?”

Shame washes over her as well as pride does him. “You did, didn’t you?”

His retrieves his hand and licks her off his fingers as if he was waiting for nothing else, staring at her with his eye pitch black.

“Do it.”

“M-my Prince?”

“Touch yourself. Now.”

She looks away, reddening even more, but he grasps her chin and forces her to look at him. “Do you want that permission to leave my service?”

It takes her a minute to swallow her shame, and then her hands is slipping between them. He pulls himself up on one arm to give her space to spread her legs some more, to watch closely as she starts to move her little hand on her bundle of nerves. “Look at me.” He commands, and she flutters her eyes with a bit of prudery before obliging.

Her breathing becomes heavy, just as his, slowly touching himself to mimic her, as he has done countless of times before but this is different. This is like the first time. He can watch her chasing her pleasure because of him, with him. He can watch the sweat beading her neck, her lip trembling. He can hear the sweet lewd sounds she makes for him.

She grows more desperate by the moment, swaying her hips on the carpet, grabbing his shoulder and neck until he falls on her. He groans upon feeling her cunt against his cock and by now they’re both too close to need hands anymore. He starts to grind against her, his hard flesh slicking ever so easily on her wetness, swallowing her whimpers and moans as he pants and rasps on her lips “Go on, sweet one. Come for me, hm?”

She does so, gripping his shoulders until digging her nails on the fabric, moaning with her mouth slack open.

He keeps grinding against her, frantic, panting, the eyepatch is somewhere on the ground and she watches him in the stupor of pleasure, like she’s experiencing a vivid dream, but the weight of the prince on her is real, his cock rubbing against her core making it twitch for more, his coarse voice as he rasps “Gods—‘M so close…” and then the jolt of warm seed on her belly.

He falls on her breathing hard, making her wince, but she can't find the strength to slip away, to pull down her skirt or move the long silvery lock that has gone into her mouth. She must leave everything as it is, and then leave it to be the ordinary girl without dreams.

For two days, her presence around the Keep is rather scarce, barely traceable in the Prince’s chambers. But his breakfast is always ready on his desk, his clothes always clean and well folded on the chair.

Aemond does not send for her nor does he seem to care where she is. He returns to his rigour, to his books, to his training as soon as dawn breaks.

One of the Kingsguard shows up in the courtyard and stands there to watch, waiting for the Prince to finish his duel.

"My Prince, I've done some research after our last conversation."

"Well?"

"Just as you said, your Grace. A modest cottage and a piece of land near Duskendale."

"Good." He says, sheathing his sword and glancing up upon hearing a distant caw. "I want you to send two city guards there, and burn it all down."

The guard blinks, widening his eyes. "My Prince?"

"You heard me."

The guard leaves and Aemond hears cawing again, closer this time. He glances up and the raven greets him, flapping his wings in the newborn sun.

Everything is in order.

[w2sology]

morning scrunches, harry lewis.

summary: mornings with harry and baby bog

warnings: girldad!harry, cuteness overload!!!

waking up besides harry had quickly become one of your favourite things ever since the two of you began dating. his face being the first that you saw everyday was just so refreshing and bought you so much comfort.

today was no different, your hand naturally coming up to caress the side of your boyfriend's face as he slept peacefully. before you'd gone to bed, your head was on harry's chest but now, it seems the roles had reversed and harry's head was now on your chest, his arms wrapped securely around your body.

turning to the bedside table on your side, you checked the baby monitor, seeing your baby girl was still asleep.

using that as an excuse for a couple more minutes of cuddles, you inched closer to harry, feeling him readjust his head on your chest.

a few moments after, you heard harry groan, waking himself up after a good night's sleep. and like he did every morning, he searched for you, smiling through tired eyes once he found your beautiful face.

"morning, love," he rasped, kissing your cheek.

"morning, babe."

now that harry was up, you checked the baby monitor again, seeing your little sleeping beauty was wide awake, just feeling rather quiet this morning.

"d'you want me to go get her?" harry asked.

"no, it's alright, i'll get her."

the two of you often took it in turns to do the morning shifts, as you called them. one of you would tend to your baby and settle her down or get her ready for the day, whilst the other got to breakfast and making sure the rest of you were ready for the day.

walking to the nursery, you outwardly awed at the sight of your little bundle of joy, picking her out of her cot. the newborn scrunch was something you absolutely adored and would definitely miss as she got older.

"hello, my precious girl!" you cooed as she smiled a gummy smile, reaching for your face as you held her near you. "let's go say morning to daddy, hm?"

the first time you say harry interact with your daughter, you almost gave him another. he was such a natural with babies, people were surprised to find out he head a mild feat of them.

walking back to your bedroom, you saw harry had moved positions, his body now sat up against the headboard as the sheets rested around his waist, exposing his naked upper body.

he put his phone down as soon as he saw you and your daughter walk into the room, smiling so hard his cheeks were starting to hurt.

"look who's awake," he gushed as you handed her over to him, sitting right besides him. resting your chin on harry's shoulder, you watched how he interacted with your daughter, your heart swelling at the sight.

he kissed both her cheeks, watching as she squirmed and smiled at her dad's touch, her small hand holding his finger, grasping so tight as if it was all she knew.

"i'm gonna get started on breakfast," you spoke softly to harry, leaving as he nodded and kissed your forehead.

it was actually his turn to make breakfast, but seeing how occupied he was with your little girl, you were sure you could manage another day of making breakfast.

meanwhile, harry spent that time talking to baby girl about everything and nothing, things he did with her uncles lately, how big olive was getting and the playdates that they'd be able to have soon, things he'd seen that reminded him of her mother, how beautiful her mother was... literally rambling to an 8 week old about whatever came to his mind.

"did you know i actually wanted to call you bog? yeah, your mum put a straight end to that dream. you'll still be mini bog to me though," you heard as you came back into the room, laughing to yourself at the almost name of your baby girl.

"breakfast's ready," you mumbled against harry's skin as you kissed his cheek, giving your daughter one too. "oh look, you changed her! she's so adorable, i might cry."

"oh, please don't, you'll set her off again." harry rolled his eyes as you nudged him.

the next few moments were filled with a comfortable silence as your baby glanced between her parents, a serene look on her face.

"can you believe we made her?" you sighed.

"i can believe it, yes, because that's what happens when two people───"

"harry! gosh, i'm trying to be sentimental here." you groaned at his inability to be serious.

he laughed in response to your reaction, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as his other arm was being used to hold the tiny human. "i'm joking, i promise. but i get what you mean. like we're actually parents."

"still feels unreal."

"mhm. but," he said, facing you. "i wouldn't change it for the world."

humming at his words, you placed a sweet kiss on his lips, a hand on his cheek as you stared at him lovingly. "me neither."