writing-prompt-s · 1 day
You are a vampire hunter. Your roommate is a vampire. Neither of you can afford the apartment on your own so if one of you attacks the other you'll lose the apartment. The tension between you two is increasing by the day.
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aye-write · 15 hours
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Spotify wrapped, writer’s edition
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ritikajyala · 2 days
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[ID:  Do you like me?
Mom says I love
you every time I 
ask if she likes me.
  This is a short story, it begins with a womb and ends with rage filled 
     love, it begins with a screaming and raging evening and ends with a
     heavy silence at the dinner table. My mother loves me, and there is
     nothing more to say. I love my mother, and there is nothing more to 
     say. I pray and pray that I don't become her someday. And there is
     nothing more to say. 
   -Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned
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so-many-ocs · 1 day
amazing how much writing i get done when i actually write. who could have foreseen this
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burythesememories · 3 days
I re-made my Tumblr because this is the only social media site I can go and not be inundated with ~*products*~ that are pretending not to be products.
Anyway, my dash is so dead and I would like to find people to follow so I don't have to rely on this website's terrible algorithm and search functions??? Please feel free to like/reblog/follow if we share any common interests!!!
Cool art/photography
Astronomy, biology, and just like science/nature in general
History, and especially weird history
Video games (some of my favorite series are Pokémon, Ace Attorney, and Animal Crossing, but I've played it all)
Board Games/TTRPGs
Interior design
The horror genre in general
Memes I guess? (Seriously if I see 1 (One) more tweet that's screenshotted and reposted here instead of a good old-fashioned Tumblr meme I'm gonna scream)
Word-vomiting my insignificant opinions everywhere
Stick around, if you want, or don't! I hope your day is going well, regardless. :)
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Jealousy Prompts
"Maybe I am a little bit jealous. But who wouldn't be?"
“Does he not know that we’re together?”
"Please, go with them if you like them so much better."
“You’re naive if you think he just wants to be your friend.”
“He shouldn’t go after other people’s girlfriends!”
“I’m not jealous, I’m being absolutely reasonable.”
“Have you even told him about me?”
"Jealous? Me? Pff. Never."
“I never would have thought I’d ever be jealous about that.”
“People are staring at us.” “Well, let’s make them jealous.”
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you. I like to see you smile more.”
“Hey, look at me. I’m yours and no one can change that.”
"Oh, so they are just a friend, right? That's what you're telling me?"
“I don’t like them all looking at you.”
“What would I be jealous about?”
"Maybe you should back off a little."
"I just want to have a good time, I don't need your jealousy all night."
"Why do you insist on flaunting him in my face?"
“I didn’t just imagine that!”
"Oh, you're so jealous. This is great to watch."
"This is your work place, leave the boyfriend at home next time."
"Why would I ever be jealous of someone like them?"
“He’s so obvious. It’s embarrassing.”
“Do you want to make me jealous?”
"I can't understand what you would see in them."
“Are you jealous?” “No, I’m not!” “Oh, you really are jealous! Wait, why would you be jealous?”
"Can you please stop being so jealous for one second?"
"I trust you, I just don't trust them."
"Jealousy is not a word I'm familiar with.
"Shut up, I'm not jealous!"
If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰
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demigoddessqueens · 2 days
knowing me, knowing you
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Based off the ABBA song, and the reincarnation + soulmate trope
Summary: Headcanons on Namor facing his lover being reincarnated in many lifetimes.
You always wore a different face every time he sees you, but he knows it’s you. The eyes are the window to your soul and it’s those same eyes that he always recognizes.
- in your first lifetime, you were a defender for your people. Facing against those who wished to do you all harm and take your homes, you lament what feels to be the end as your cries carry out to the sea shores. Ancient prayers are answered as the Feathered Serpent God repels said forces and delivers your people to victory.
-in that night, you two bond and you forever remain within the crevices of Namor’s mind
- in your second lifetime, you were reborn a noble. Fair and kind to all, you never truly fit in to the high society. Still, your acts of kindness do not go unnoticed, especially when you save an innocent who survived a storm’s shipwreck. From the murky waters, Namor’s eyes and ears hear for your soothing voice as you nurse them back to health. Humming a familiar tune that you once sang to him centuries ago after a victory.
- in the third life, you belonged to no one and no people. It was a lonesome life, but you made one for yourself on the sea. A storm crashes and rages against your crew one night, casting you into the sea as you push your first mate away to safety. Plummeting into the dark waters, you fight with all your strength before surrendering to the dark. You feel something pull you close, a soft touch that gently holds you as life and air is breathed back into your lungs and soul. You find yourself reunited with your crew by morning on the shore.
- now, in the fourth lifetime, you stand proudly before him years after the shaky alliance gains ground. A Senator and ambassador for Wakanda, Namor refuses to leave your side. A new face but still the voice and eyes that he never forgot. You’re confused as to why he looks at you like that, but it’s flattering all the same. Like he treats everything you say as the most important words that hold value to him.
-“you don’t recognize me, my love?”
-“Your Highness, I don’t think I’m the one you take me for.”
-speechless, confused, worried. You don’t know what to make of all this and try to keep things professional despite the distant and morose demeanor that seems to follow Namor in the days that follow.
-that night, the dreams that have long followed you become memories. Beaches, a victory, and a gentle song fill that hole that’s plagued your very being for a long time.
- you remember
- the next day, in the early hours of the morning, you arrive first while softly humming that familiar tune. Namor turns to face you, eyes filled with an imploring reassurance as he tightly brings you close to him.
-“you remember! You’re here.” “I’m here.”
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anexperimentallife · 2 days
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Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem. Reader
Summary : You and Aemond have gotten married, and are off for your wedding night. How will it go for you both?
Themes : Soft | Slow burn | Smut
Warnings : Aegon trying to be a loathsome cad | Height difference | Kissing | Foreplay | Oral (f. receiving)| Dirty talk | First time |  Penetrative sex |
Word count : 5.4k  words
Minors DNI | 18+
Kēlītsos - Kitten
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This is the final one-shot of three separate fanfics, this time featuring Aemond. I’ve changed several things, and I hope you all enjoy it. 
Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here
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All eyes were on you and your husband, some staring so intently you could feel holes being burnt into your back.
The prince, on the other hand, seemed to pay the gawking no mind. He kept one arm firmly around your waist, holding you as close to him as possible as the two of you made your way around the floor, your right hand snug in his left. And so small, compared to his. The prince was so tall, towering over you, your head not even reaching his chin. He had barely uttered a sentence the entire time, save for the vows he said in front of the High Septon.
And you had been warned about it. Aemond was a private man they said, given to few words. You were warned of other things too, that the prince preferred books and swordplay and solitude to anything else. You even experienced some of it, the silence, the guarded looks, the respectful distance. You sighed, determined to make the best of your circumstances.
“Are you alright?” He asked suddenly. “Is something troubling you?”
You had caught the king leering, his eyes half-filled with anger, his fingers white at the joints, and stiffened. “Nothing, husband,” you swallowed, hoping not to offend by complaining about his brother. For good and for ill, Aegon was kin, after all. “I’m fine.”
“Please do not lie to me,” Aemond whispered as his gaze skimmed over the floor, looking for the source of your sudden discomfort. When he caught Aegon staring, in front of his own wife no less, he ground his teeth. Aegon was never one for subtlety, he thought with disgust. “And do not fear my brother. Aegon is coming nowhere near you.”
How was that even going to be possible tonight? “But the bedding ceremony…” You had heard of this strange Westerosi custom and dreaded it. The thought of that lecherous king coming anywhere near you made you dread it even more. 
“I did away with it, made it clear that I won’t subject you to such a humiliation. And as my mother would tell you, I did it in the least polite way imaginable.” Aemond leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “Why do you think the king looks like he’d swallowed a live toad?”
His confession made you gasp, then giggle. “You threatened the king?” you tsked and whispered. “Very bad form, husband.”
Aemond’s eye twinkled, a rare thing with him. “You’re wrong, wife. I didn’t threaten the king. I just… educated him on all the things that could go wrong as he went about his day.”  
That was the end to further talking as others joined the dancing. The two of you continued to sway to the music, wrapped in a bubble of blissful silence. Aemond’s thoughts circled to what was to happen later when the two of you retired for the night.
He kept thinking of that night over a decade ago when Aegon thought it fit to take, no, drag him over to the pleasure house. The woman in question was skilled and showed him many things, but Aemond never truly cared for it and just wanted the night to end. He never went back, only ever kept one bedmate and no more. He turned to you, doubt plaguing him, worrying him. He prayed to all the gods who would listen that he didn’t ruin tonight. For now, though, he would content himself with running a thumb over your fingers, rubbing his hand over your back as the two of you danced. He swallowed when you leaned into him, his heartbeat roaring in his ears when you tucked your head under his chin.
You took a steadying breath when you felt his thumb rubbing over yours. Aemond was called a monster by many, ruthless and vengeful, yet here he was, being gentle with you, putting an end to something you knew you weren’t going to look forward to. But did that mean he’d be considerate in other ways as well? You heard the stories, of how some husbands took their pleasures without care or consideration, like the king, but would Aemond be like them? Or would he be different?
“What are you thinking about, wife?”
You look up at him, stunned by him talking again. “I,” you licked your lips nervously, heat blooming in your cheeks when his gaze drifted to your mouth. A thousand excuses flashed before your eyes. “I was thinking about…” do not lie to me, he’d insisted. You sighed, deciding to be truthful. “tonight. A-after the feast, I mean.”
Aemond focused on your lips, and how they moved with each word. “I was thinking about it also,” he somehow managed, his gaze moving up quickly. “But there’s no need for you to worry.” His gaze slowly drifted to your lips again, his mind haunted with visions of your mouth opening under his. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
"I will hold you to that," you mumbled tartly, your hands flying to your mouth when you realized what you said. "Forgive me, husband, my tongue got the better of me, and--"
Aemond took your hands back into his as a new dance started. "Please don't fear me," He pleaded softly. "Many people already fear me, my wife shouldn't be one of them."
The prince is bound to have some goodness in him, you were reminded of your mother's words, the ones she told you when your parents first talked to you about the engagement. Try to see it.
Stopping the bedding ceremony, asking you not to fear him, promising to be gentle with you. Were those glimmers of the goodness you were asked to seek?
A hand gliding over your back startled you and made your head reel. A sound blew out on your next breath, soft and dreamy, something between a whimper and a soft sigh. Aemond melted when he heard that dreamy sigh. He wanted the feast to end and for everyone to leave. Between you arriving in Kings Landing and everything turning into a flurry of wedding preparations and heavily chaperoned outings, he didn't have a chance to truly be alone with you, and he was counting the minutes to do so.
There were speeches.
Followed by the finest Arbor wines.
Followed by more speeches. One such was a particularly long and boring lecture from the High Septon. Several guests came close to nodding off. When your eyes grew heavy, your head started to droop, and you muttered quietly, "Now I know why people call him warm milk." You could have sworn Aemond chuckled under his breath.
“That’s probably the kindest thing people have called him,” he mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear, making you smile. 
Finally, it was over, much to everyone’s visible relief. 
Then, a large, elaborately decorated cake had to be wheeled into the feasting hall. You take in the sight of the cake as it is brought over slowly, inch by inch, trying to figure out how much such a confection would have cost. Clearly, the royal family had spared no expense for the ceremony and the feast. "To remind everyone who is in charge," you had heard one guest mumbling to another. "Especially those who supported the blacks."
The hint seemed to have been well received, judging by some of the looks in the crowd.
You went forward with Aemond to cut the cake. Again, you had to place your hand in his, as he held out his sword. Dark Sister, the one he won after slaying Daemon Targaryen, in a battle that nearly cost him his life and the life of his dragon, Vhagar. The sword was light, clearly made for a woman. Ripples in the blade seemed to gleam and then grow darker as if they were absorbing the surrounding light. There was magic here, and the blood of countless souls. You shivered. "Don’t be afraid," Aemond whispered. "It’s just a sword."
You wanted to roll your eyes. Just a sword, he says. Right.
The blade came down, and the cake was cut. Aemond’s hand seemed to warm over yours, keeping your grip steady as steel bit into soft cake. You would have relished eating as much cake as you wanted but you couldn't do it. The cake meant the feast was about to end, and the two of you would depart for your wedding night. Still, you made yourself eat a slice as all eyes were on you. Aemond toyed with his, moving pieces about with his fork, his eyes darting around the hall. He seemed to be as nervous as you.
Aemond looked around, waiting for the cake to be served and for the feast to end. He caught you eating, daintily gliding your lips over the pads of your fingers, picking up cake crumbs and bits of icing. Seven help him, but the very sight of you doing it made him dizzy, made him crave your lips on his. When the Master of Ceremonies signaled an end to the festivities, Aemond was the first to stand up. 
"Come, wife. It is time," said Aemond, as he helped you out of your chair. You take his hand, your palm going cold and clammy out of nervousness. There was a reassuring squeeze as if telling you everything was going to be well. When you turned to him, you could have sworn Aemond winked. 
The king stood up with the rest, abruptly left his table, and made his way toward you both. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Otto Hightower quickly jumping out of his chair and making his way over. 
"Brother," Aegon smiled brightly for everyone's benefit, but you weren't fooled. You could still see anger in his eyes. He wasn’t pleased with being denied, that was obvious. "Congratulations again on your nuptials."
Aemond put himself in front of you, trying to block Aegon’s view. His sword arm inched towards the hilt of Dark Sister. "Thank you, brother." He forced himself to respond, his words dripping with ice. "For your wishes."
Aegon, now resorting to a leer that made you shrink back, did not attempt to leave. "I hope you’ll be staying here, in the Red Keep?"
"No." That was one thing that pleased Aemond, saying no to Aegon. "On the morrow, I’ll be taking my bride with me to Driftmark."
The seat of the now-extinct House Velaryon. Aemond had been given lordship over it after the war. Having repelled Myrish and Tyroshi attempts to overtake the island, he’d proven himself worthy of the title.
"You're taking y/n and leaving?" Aegon hissed indignantly. "What the fuck for?"
First the leering, now this. "Why does that concern you, your grace?" Angered by his brother’s lack of respect towards their sister and you, Aemond took a step forward, forcing Aegon back away. The king wilted when the white-hot need to murder burned in his brother's eye. You rushed to Aemond's side, wondering if it was wise to intervene and potentially create a scene.
In the end, Otto saved you from making that choice by quickly coming between the two brothers. "It doesn’t grandson," he smiled grandly, desperate blue eyes resting on his second grandson. "His grace is merely being curious, that is all."
“Curious, mmm. Interesting choice of words though, don’t you agree...” Aemond turned to his grandfather, trailing off when Otto looked at him as if begging him to stand down. Everyone was watching, Aegon especially, and with scheming eyes. Not wanting to leave you exposed or vulnerable, Aemond ground his jaw and composed himself. By tomorrow the two of you would be on Vhagar’s back, flying to your new home. Aegon would never come to Driftmark for he loathed life on the island, and Aemond had little interest in life at court. "Of course, grandfather," he said. "We will bid you both goodnight."
As you walked away you caught snippets of Otto Hightower giving a quiet but sharp dressing down to the king. “So the rumours are true?” Unable to help yourself, you asked when the others were well out of hearing. “Your grandfather is the only person who could truly control your brother?”
Aemond just sighed in defeat. So much for their efforts in concealing the miseries of his immediate family. “I’m afraid so,” he said, as he escorted you from one corridor to another, up stairways, and through different rooms. There was no point in hiding such things from you. You were his wife now and bound to hear more as time went on.
The very notion filled you with dread. “Then what happens, husband, when Lord Hightower dies?”
Aemond had considered the possibility of the realm falling into chaos once his grandfather has passed on and he had no interest of sticking around and cleaning more of Aegon’s messes. Within a week of your arrival in Kings Landing Aemond started making plans, to take you with him to your own country the moment Otto Hightower’s body was put into the ground. “Let’s just hope the king follows him not long after.”
Aemond’s chambers were airy, with balconies that opened to the sea. The air here smelled subtly of salt. 
You walked out and looked out into the night. Under the light of a full moon, you could see a large hump on the adjoining strip of the beach. There was a low, deep, rumble, the hump went up and down as if it were breathing. "Vhagar," Aemond said, almost startling you. "She finds it harder to wake up now."
You could hear it, the faint tinge of sadness in his voice. Vhagar came into life when he was older than the others, a dragon only a few had been able to claim. Vhagar was far too old now, too slow, her fighting days well and truly behind her.
"Fighting Caraxes weakened her, left her with wounds that never truly healed,” Aemond looked on fondly at the beast that had carried him throughout the war. "The Maesters are giving her three more years. Five, if we’re lucky."
"Just three years?" The last living connection to the conqueror and his sisters, the last true war dragon, snuffed out in three years. "And will she be strong enough to take us to Driftmark?"
"We have to use her. Otherwise, the old lady will never let me hear the end of it if I leave her here and she has to follow me to Driftmark." Not wanting to think about Vhagar’s demise, Aemond went back inside and got a fire going to steady his jangled nerves. "But enough of that. Why don’t you come inside, mmm?"
There were butterflies in your belly when Aemond took off his boots and removed his rings. You gulped and went in, walking towards the four-poster bed, your hands working on the clasps of your dress. You felt his eye on you, watching your every move. Aemond could tell you were nervous by your fingers struggling with the clasps, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He came over, his hands gently pulling yours away. "Let me," he said. 
You stand still, your cheeks burning, as your dress loosens around your body. "You’re still frightened," Aemond murmured. "Why?"
You had been trembling despite your efforts to calm your nerves. "I—I’ve never been with anyone before and…"
"No handsome stableboy stealing your kisses? No," He cut you off and ground his teeth, as a sharp pang of jealousy stabbed him in the gut. "Dashing sellsword winning your favours?"
How it pleased you so, seeing him worked up like this. You felt tempted to say yes, just to see what his reaction would be like, but you stuck to the truth instead. "No." 
"But you’re Myrish," said Aemond, as he undid the last of the clasps. His hands then moved up to slip the dress down your arms. Goosebumps spread over your skin when his hands glided down your exposed flesh. "I thought your people were – freer – so to speak, with their affections."
"Not all of us, no." You stepped out of the dress that had now pooled around your ankles, your body only covered in a thin silk shift. "And I have heard of your," you remained motionless once more, this time as large hands reached back to undo the braids and coils in your hair. "Reputation."
Aemond arched a brow, his violet eye glinting in the moonlight. “My reputation, wife?” His eye gleamed as a braid came loose, and there was a soft ping, of a clip hitting the ground. "And what kind of reputation is that, mmm?"
"That you’re a kinslayer." More braids and coils came undone, allowing your hair to flow freely around you. "That you’ve done terrible things during the war."
Aemond let his fingers curl around your hair. How many nights had he lain awake, dreaming of all the times he could run his fingers run through your hair. "The gossips are right, wife. I am a kinslayer, a murderer.” He turned around, so you could undo the single braid in his hair. Having to stand on the tips of your toes wasn’t easy, but you did it. Aemond closed his eye when your palms glided over his shoulders. He swallowed, counting the minutes till he could feel your hands all over his body. "I've killed more people than I could care to count during the war. Cursed by the gods, that’s what I am. I’m vengeful, always carrying a grudge, always wanting to settle debts against those who wronged me."
You trembled when he turned to you again. "But I could be just your monster," he whispered as he took off his coat, and his tunic, leaving his chest bare. "If you let me."
The large pink scar that covered most of his torso was hard to miss. A burn no doubt, a parting gift from Caraxes and the Rogue Knight. Temptation came over you. You let your hand glide up his chest, your heart thrilling when Aemond whispered don’t stop under his breath. "Just my monster?" You asked, your cheeks flushing again when Aemond removed his belt and threw it to the ground. 
"Not just your monster." He shook his head, curling a finger under your chin, tilting it up. Aemond, thinking it best not to remove his eye patch on the first night, dithered on what to do next. Should he lean in and kiss you? Should he scoop you up and carry you to bed? Or perhaps he should loosen his tongue and tell you all the things he had wanted to say since he first saw you. "I wish to be so much more to you."
"Oh?" You grew nervous when he turned you around and moved your hair to one side, so he could undo the lacings on the back of your shift. "L-like what, husband?"
“I wish to be so good to you.” You calling him husband, how Aemond enjoyed hearing it. "I could be your shelter from the storm." Aemond pulled out the last of the laces and slipped a shoulder strap down your arm. His arms hooked around your waist, and hands callused by years of fighting and dragon-riding rested over your tummy. "To be the sworn shield that strikes down all who try to hurt you." 
It felt like your bones turned to water when Aemond pressed his face against the nape of your neck, brushing his nose over your skin. He worked on the other shoulder strap, gradually loosening your shift until it slid down to your waist. “I want to be your island of peace,” Aemond mumbled as you stood perfectly still, your nervousness slowly crumbling to dust when soft kisses pressed against your skin, warming it wherever they landed. “Even when the rest of the world is falling apart.”
 “W-what else?” you hummed when his fingers curled over your belly. You couldn’t see it, the flash of need in his eye when he held you flush against him. You could only feel him, how his body trembled with every breath he took, how warm his skin felt against yours. How good would it feel to surrender to him, you thought, as you closed your eyes and tilted your head to the side. "Tell me more. Please."
Aemond’s tongue loosened even more and he didn't care. If he couldn't confess to his wife then what was the point of being married? “I want to love you. To worship you.” Your eyes flew wide open at the revelation. Everything he just told you was a revelation, but this both shocked and pleased you. “I want you to come to me,” Aemond whispered, his hot breath against your ear sending tingles up your spine. “With everything. Your dreams. And your fears. And your lusts.”
You collapsed into him when he cupped your breasts, his fingers gently playing with soft buds that puckered under his touch. His name rolled off your tongue in a gasp.
Oh, that was all he ever wanted to hear that night and every night after that. His name, rolling past your lips.
Aemond kept touching you, letting his hands glide all over your stomach, the cleft between your breasts, your arms, before moving to your breasts again in slow, teasing caresses. Heat pooled in your core, warmth spread all over your skin as those large hands caressed and squeezed, as his lips latched onto the crook of your neck, gently sucking at the soft flesh.
Feeling you go lax in his arms, your body open to all that he was doing, proved too sinful and enticing for Aemond and he gave in, his hands pulling down on your shift, yanking it past your waist until it fell to the ground, gathering around your ankles in a puddle of fabric. You were so small next to him, he could picture himself carrying you to bed and easily tossing you around as he had his way with you, but not yet. Not until you were comfortable with him and trusted him completely. “I am yours, kēlītsos,” he crooned against your neck, your trembles intoxicating his senses like a heady drug. “All that I have, and all that I am, is yours.”
With that, he whipped you around and dragged you in for a kiss. Your head reeled, your lips yielding to his, soft purrs rising from the back of your throat when his tongue slipped past your parted lips, eager to savour the warmth of your mouth. “As I’m yours,” you heard yourself murmur between kisses. “Now and always, husband.”
Aemond groaned into his kiss. He could already feel it, the arousal in his loins, his body overcome with the need to take all you were willing to give him. When your arms wrapped around his waist he walked you backward, not stopping until you were right up against the bed. “Get in bed,” He cooed, his hands going to work on lace cords. “And lie back.”
You moved up to the pillows, your eyes never leaving his. Aemond peeled off his breeches, a smile tugging at his lips when you blushed furiously and looked away. “Look at me, kēlītsos,” Aemond said gently, as he made his way to you.
Your lessons in High Valyrian had been so few, your grasp of the language so weak. You knew only the basics, Kēlītsos being one of them. Kitten, it meant. “Why do you call me that?” You croaked when he hovered over you, his thighs pushing yours apart as he settled between your legs. “Kēlītsos?”
“Because I want to,” Aemond let his hand glide up your calf, along the inside of your thigh, his breath shuddering as his palm skimmed over soft, supple skin. He knew your body was soft, he felt it while dancing, but he didn’t think it would be this soft. "Does it displease you?” Fear overtook him. Had he made a mistake by calling you that? “I- I could say something else if you like.”
And there had been your family, warning you not to anger him tonight. Oh, if you could only tell them, how their fears were unfounded. “I- I don’t mind,” you trembled when his fingers, callused and hardened after years of fighting, drifted up your belly. “Really.”
 Aemond smiled, really smiled, his entire face lighting up with pleasure. “Good. Then that is what I’ll call you then. But when we’re alone, yes?”
“Yes...” the rest of your answer was cut off when his lips found yours, slow, drugging kisses that robbed you of the very air that you breathed. Your fingers found their way to his hair, to soft locks that seemed to slip through like water. His lips were so soft, his tongue wet and warm as it traced over your lips, his teeth sharp as they gently grazed your lips, leaving them bruised and puffy and you aching when he pulled away. Wet kisses skimmed over your chin and glided over your throat. When you groaned and arched your back he grew bolder, his lips moving lower, leaving a wet trail over your ribcage, your belly, moving along your hips, the insides of your thighs. “A-ae-mond,” you groaned, your fingers scrabbling for purchase against the sheets when his mouth moved to your center, his tongue flicking gently on your wet slit.
The prince moaned when your legs moved over to his shoulders, when your hands got all bunched up in his hair. He massaged your thighs as his tongue pressed deeper into your throbbing pussy, delighting in your babbling, your desperate pleas. An arm moved over to your abdomen and pinned you down even as he pressed his mouth even deeper into your cunt, savouring the very essence that was you. When you bucked your hips he growled and rubbed his thumb over your clit, whimpering, "Let go for me. Please let go for me."
Everything about him shocked you, from his tenderness out there in the hall, to his fire in here, in bed. You felt foolish for being afraid of him, for thinking he'd treat you the way he treated many others. Aemond had been wanting you to trust him, to share pleasure with him, and you could see yourself being genuinely happy with him. All sense of timidness deserted you and the air was thickly peppered with, “more aemond… right there aemond… harder aemond… aemond please.”
"Fuck," Aemond growled when you bucked into him again, when your legs clamped down over his shoulders as if not wanting him to move. He grabbed onto your thighs, discretely looking over at you. Seeing you arching your back, your eyes fluttering with each spasm that rippled over you, shook him. Never had he felt such hunger for a single person, not even with Alys, and Alys was the closest he had come to care for someone. This was different. No, he decided. This wasn't just different, it was so much more, something much stronger, the kind only poets wrote about. He mumbled in High Valyrian, words he'd never dreamt of saying to anyone. When you were safely situated in Driftmark, he'd tell you what they meant. 
Aemond then felt it, the slow coiling of your muscles, the growing trembles in your thighs. You were close, so close. 
No, he thought. Not tonight. Tonight he wanted you to first cum on his cock.
“Not this way, Kēlītsos.” Aemond pulled away and cleaned his lips with the edge of the sheet. He kissed his way back up to you, groaning when your legs slid open and rested against his thighs. He kissed you, his lips gently pulling at yours, purring when you sucked on his tongue. His hands held your hips steady as he drove into your center, his cock slowly stretched your slick walls. 
It hurt. You were prepared for it, but it still hurt. Aemond did his best to distract you, kissing you senseless, not giving a single word of complaint when your nails dug into his shoulders as he sank his full length into your aching cunt. The moan that followed when he claimed your maidenhead was deep and throaty. You felt wave upon wave of pleasure, and not just by your velvety walls clenching around his throbbing cock. You were now his wife in every way.
Kisses drifted over your eyelids as he hovered over you, giving you time to adjust to his presence inside you. “Are you comfortable, Kēlītsos?” Aemond brushed back your hair, his gaze filled with concern. “Do you want me to go on?”
You managed an eager nod,  ignoring the pain, the discomfort. “Yes.” You hooked your legs around his waist, savouring how full you felt with his cock inside you. “I’m ready for this.”
There was the barest hint of a smile. You closed your eyes and jolted when he moved, his thrust sending shockwaves and dragging out sharps gasps out of your mouth. As he began to rock back and forth, the pain slowly gave way, discomfort slowly gave way, pleasure slowly replaced all else, and all you could manage was to moan and mewl his name.
Aemond helped you up and had you straddling his lap as he pressed himself flush against you. This was so much better for you. Your hands reached out, touching, caressing, trying to match what Aemond was doing to you. Feeling your naked flesh against his, your nails raking down his back, your palms gliding over his scar, overwhelmed him. “You like this, don’t you, Kēlītsos?” He rasped into your ear. “Riding the dragon?”
Something about the way he said it aroused you greatly, made you crave to hear more. “Y-yes. I d-do.”
He chuckled breathily as he settled into a pace and rhythm you both liked. When Aemond was not telling you of the things he wanted to do to you, he was kissing you. And when he was not kissing you he let a hand glide over your body, grabbing onto your breasts, thighs, and ass, leaving bruises in its wake. You could only cling to him as he brought you closer, your walls pulsing all too intensely around his cock. “D-don’t s-stop,” you plead even as you arched into him. “P-please… p-please d-don’t stop.”
Aemond pushed you back into bed and quickly propped himself on his hands, slamming his hips, grinding them against the insides of your thighs, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air. You managed to hold onto enough focus, your hips driving back to meet his thrusts, your feet scrabbling for purchase against his back. Your hips kept driving back, not stopping, and your muscles coiled tight like they were about to snap. You push back one last time, and those coiled muscles shattered, the world skidding to an immediate halt as your orgasm ripped through you.
 Aemond felt it, heard it. Your body trembling violently under his, his name blowing past your lips in a half-moan, half-cry. He was far from done and growled, “Hold on Kēlītsos, hold on.” He thrust harder and faster, as his body plunged hard and plunged deep, barely holding on for a few more seconds. When he came it was with a deep, final thrust and an even deeper, satisfying grunt. He kept still while his seed continued to spill into your womb.
You swallowed as your heartbeat slowed and the world slowly started to come into focus. You hear the curtains rustling with the night breeze and the popping and cracking of firewood in the hearth. You felt Aemond moving, his weight shifting as he slowly collapsed next to you. He was exhausted, his chest heaving, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He reached over, pulling you to him, his hands brushing off the beads of sweat that had started to form over your skin. Exhausted but replete, you make yourself comfortable in the crook of his arm. “This night went better than I dreamed, husband.”
Incredibly relieved that he hadn’t ruined this night for you, that he hadn’t messed up the start of his marriage, Aemond cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your jawbone. His kisses were now soft, and tender. “Anything for you, Kēlītsos.” 
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youneedsomeprompts · 2 days
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requested by: anonymous
Feel free to use and reblog!
snowball fight
catching snowflakes
having a ride with a horse sleigh
teaching the other ice-skating
having a skiing vacation
watching snowflakes getting stuck on the other's lashes
making snow angels
building a snowman and other snow figures
making fake trails with their footprints in the snow
picnic in the snow
sticking out their tongue to catch the falling snow
eating icicles
watching snowflakes melting in their palm
taking the sledge/skis to school/work
storing snowballs in the freezer
building an igloo
coming back inside with soaked clothes and frozen toes
watching the first snowfall from inside & instantly hurrying outside
slithering across frozen puddles
playing in the snow with their pet
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“Where’s your quirky little sidekick? She finally jump ship?”
“None of your business.”
“Ooh, touchy.”
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writing-prompt-s · 1 day
You have heard of dragons pretending to be princesses. And you also know of princesses rescuing knights from dragons. Now is a tale of a dragon saving a knight from the princess.
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house-ad · 6 months
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Short Prompt #1048
The hero turned away, scrunching up their face as they fought with themself. They couldn't change their mind now, it was too late.
Behind them, the villain spat curses and promises of pain as they were restrained and taken away. Hero could only hope they'd have enough time to get out of the country before Villain broke out.
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ritikajyala · 2 days
...My mother loves me and there is nothing more to say. I love my mother and there is nothing more to say. I pray and pray that I don't become her someday, and there is nothing more to say.
-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned
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writingdotcoffee · 11 hours
I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.
James Michener
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corvase · 2 days
childhood exes to lovers
feel free to use!
the moment they first see each other and all the feelings rushing to the surface… mainly the feeling of “i would literally rather die than see this person right now.”
“i just want a friendly chat.” “you know it’s going to be way heavier than just a friendly chat. i can’t do that again.”
“i want you to be in my life again. but more than that, i want you to want to be in it.”
one pretends not to remember the other one and it’s like
“you don’t remember me? at all? did i mean anything to you?”
“get coffee with me. please. just coffee.” “are you asking me or telling me?”
“oh! hi!!!!…… funny seeing you here.” “i saw you run away from me in the coffee aisle two minutes ago, name.”
“it was high school. it wasn’t that serious.” “it was serious to me.”
“will you forgive me?”
“i’m gonna be honest and i’ve been keeping it to myself because i didn’t want to scare you off again. i really loved you. and i still do.”
“i don’t want you to hurt me again.” “i was immature before. please.”
“it didn’t work out the first time. i’m scared, you know?” “but we’ve both come so far since the first time. we’re not kids anymore, name.”
what if it’s just unrequited? what if one truly has moved on and the other is left in the dust?
“i missed you.”
“can we just talk?” “why would you need to talk to me?”
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