#I’m not very confident in drawing the characters yet

[c0ffeejelly1]

Manhandling him

Multiple character headcannon

Authors note: UGH pls this whole things was for jokes bc I can’t really be that ask to make something I feel is good. Teehee. Also I can mischaracterise all I want okay let a girl dream pls. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warning: man it’s like the smallest hint of the nasty freaky stuff

“Babe, you got something on your face. Let me just…” You reach out to your boyfriend, making him look your way by gripping his chin firmly while you flick away a bit of ‘glitter’ from his cheek. “There you go.”

Strike one.

That was just the beginning of your strange behavior today.

“Hey baby, c’mere I wanna kiss…” you call him over from the other side of the kitchen counter, only to yank on his collar and pull him in for one hell of a snog. “Seriously, you have no business looking this good today.”

Strike two.

Just what was up with you today?

You just got home from work, and as he’s about to sit up to see you, you suddenly push him back down onto the couch, mumbling something about how much you “missed him”.

Strike three.

You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your lips, but then you pause to check out his face.

Perhaps you took this prank too far…

The type to be oddly into it

“…are you hard?”

This snaps your boyfriend out of his thoughts.

He’d never ever ever thought he could find himself in a situation like this. this is the kind of stuff you see in movies, right? I mean, come on!

Just picture how mortifying it is to be turned on from someone mistreating you! It’s pathetic!

He can’t just blurt out, ‘oh hell yeah I’m hard’ in response to that question—why would anyone even think to ask that? What can a guy do in a moment like this except deny it?

“What? N-no!…” He glances away, feeling the weight of your intense gaze. “…maybe?”

When you raise an eyebrow at him, his mask crumbles entirely. There’s no use in pretending.

You’ve already seen right through him, leaving him no option but to retreat into a shadowy corner and disappear.

“Yeah.” He responds, his voice tinged with disappointment. “I…I am.”

Maybe it’s because of the way you handled him like he was nothing that made him so bothered.

Maybe it was the way you looked so desperate to have him that did it for him.

Either way, he’s discovered something about himself he never knew he ever had.

And make no mistake, you were going to exploit this discovery to the fullest.

“Have I told you how much I love you babe?” You pull back from his face after practically devouring it as he stands there, grinning like a lovesick fool, dishes still in hand.

“I think you should tell me more.”

“Wrap up with those dishes, and I’ll give you a demonstration instead.”

Be ready for one hell of a night cowgirl. Wink wink

Charcters: serizawa, armin, EREN, REINER, ukai, ATSUMU, Osamu, Gojo, CHOSO, leviathan, SATAN, DIAVOLO, IIDA, denki, tamaki, CHILDE, Cyno, sanji, LAW

The type to think you’ve finally gone crazy

you call out to him, noticing he seems lost in his phone. Yet, oddly enough, he flinches slightly every time you speak.

This reaction occurs whenever you draw near him, as if your voice startles him, even when you're just a breath away. It’s not that he dislikes your voice; rather, it feels like he’s a bit intimidated by you now.

What happened to the confident guy who was with you just two days ago? Why does he seem to be tiptoeing around you like a child with a fragile toy?

“Y/N…is everything alright?” He approaches you cautiously, maintaining a bit of distance, trying to balance his interest with a hint of hesitation. “You’ve been…um, I just wanted to check—are you upset with me?”

“Upset with you?” You set your phone aside, raising an eyebrow at him. “Why would I be upset? Did you do something wrong?”

That’s the very question he’s grappling with. Your passionate touches and fervent kisses have left him bewildered about your feelings.

Are you so enamored that you can’t help yourself, or are you retaliating for something he might have done? Suddenly, a thought strikes him.

“…If this is about how intense things got last night, I’m sorry, but you did ask for it when I warned you I wouldn’t hold back—” His words are cut short as your hand swiftly covers his mouth.

“No! No that’s—just no. It was a prank babe, a trend I saw online” you say, removing your hand and placing both on his shoulders. “Last night has nothing to do with today or any other day.”

“Not even you complaining about being sore?”

“Not even me complaining about…wait I never did that!”

“Yeah buts it’s easy to tell.”

Charcters: REIGEN, giyuu, giyomei, JEAN, KAGEYAMA, hinata, kuroo, OIKAWA, AKAASHI, geto, NANAMI, Solomon, IZUKU, Diluc, LAIOS, zayne, LAW (Sowy I can see him as both)

The type to also manhandle you

Did you honestly believe you could manhandle him without facing the same treatment in return? Come on this is your boyfriend we’re talking about, In fact, I think he’s thrilled that you can boss him around so effortlessly.

So thrilled that he makes it into a competition

“Okay let’s see who tackles the first person on the bed.” His eyes shine with enthusiasm as he confidently places his hands on his hips. “If I win I get to have my way with you, and if you win, you get to have me have my way with you. Deal?”

You pause for a moment to process his words “…uh, how is that fair?”

“What do you mean?” he replies, brushing off your concern with a grin.

“I think it’s perfectly fair. No matter the outcome, you get a nice little reward, right?” His voice dances with mischief as he nudges you playfully with his elbow, clearly trying to elicit a reaction.

You roll your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, before relenting, “I guess it’s not so bad..”

“Exactly! Now, I’m going to count down. Ready? 3…2…” Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, he lunges at you, tackling you onto the bed before he even reaches 1.

“H-hey! That’s cheating, you can’t do that!” But your protests are ignored, your boyfriend already having you wrapped in his warm embrace, his face buried against your neck.

“This is what you get for how you’ve been treating me today.”

“What are you talking about?” You pause for a moment, though you suspect he’s finally caught on to your little scheme. “You mean me kissing you like any normal woman would with the love of her life?”

“No. Just you touching me all weirdly…”

“Don’t say it like that you make me sound like a perv.”

“Maybe cause you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“…”

“…”

“I’m not.”

Charcters: RENGOKU, tengen, connie, NISHINOYA, hinata (yes again), kuroo (YESSS AGAIN), BOKUTO, TENDOU, MAMMON, DENKI (twice and what), kirishima, ITTO, rafayel, LUFFY

The type…yeah you ain’t doing that

Screw everything I just said in the intro. If you genuinely think you can manhandle this man and succeed. You’re crazy.

“Hey, come here, you’ve got something—” The moment your hand nears his face, he seizes your wrist, staring at you as if you’ve just committed a serious offense.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh…I’m trying to like get the little speck of glitter off your face.”

“We don’t own glitter?”

“Dust then?” He shoots you a skeptical glance.

“…sure.”

So that was an absolute fail…

But you’re not ready to throw in the towel just yet. No way! You just need to bide your time until nightfall, when he’s all soft and cuddly. That’s when you’ll make your move.

As the evening unfolds and you’re prepping for bed in the bathroom, you catch sight of him reaching for something in the cupboard above you. This is your moment. The time to pull him in close and—

SMACK

“The hell? What was that for?” He rubs his forehead, clearly taken aback by your sudden move.

Who knew kissing your boyfriend could be this complicated? Somehow, you ended up colliding headfirst into him, and now he’s clearly fed up with you.

“That wasn’t how it was supposed to go…” you say with a shy smile, nervously scratching the back of your head. “You alright?”

You gently move his hand away from his forehead to check for any damage, and to your surprise, he lets you.

Wait a minute… you actually moved his hand, and he’s okay with it? Is this manhandling? I think it’s manhandling. It’s manhandling.

“…I did it.”

“Did what?”

“I touched you!”

“??”

Pls stop confusing this man he’s already tired enough.

Charcters: dimple, akashi, MIDORIMA, aomine, sanemi, KAGEYAMA (yes again), TSUKISHIMA, iwaizumi, TOJI, LUCIFER, bakugou, AIZAWA, sylus, ZORO,

[spittyfishy]

A whole bunch of Star Trek art from the last year that I was too nervous to post on their own lol

[yan-lorkai]

Hi!! I loved your hcs of the Octotrio with a yuu that seems to only have a talent in art. I related to it a lot because sometimes I feel like I’m not good at anything else other than drawing.

I was wondering if you could do the same prompt with Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Leona, Malleus & the Scarabia boys please? If that’s too many you can just do Leona, Malleus, & Scarabia. Thank you 😊

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I guess everyone has one of those episodes, huh? I've been writing for more than 8 years now and sometimes I get hit by the "aa but I'm only good at writing, I should totally try something" and then I try something new and hate it bcs I really love to write and nothing can compare lmao. Anyway, I hope you like this darling, I did all the characters requested too btw ~

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ace would be playful and encouraging, but his competitive nature would lead him to manipulate situations to keep you close. He’d play little tricks to make sure you stay dependent on him, offering "helpful" critiques that subtly undermine your confidence in anything but your art. His lighthearted facade would hide a deeper need to be the center of your attention, he is your muse, the one you use to practice, the who inspires you, making sure that you see him as the only one who truly understands and supports you, all while ensuring you don't realize how he’s subtly sabotaging any other talents you might want to try to explore, for he fears you will not want to spend more time with him anymore if that was the case.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Cater would use his social media prowess to make you art the talk of the school, ensuring your work — and by extension, his support — is always in the spotlight. However, his validation would come with a price, as he subtly isolates you from others, creating an environment where you feel your art is only appreciated by him and his curated audience. Cater’s charming persona would hide his darker intentions, as he manipulates your into believing that your worth is tied to the art you create under his influence, all while keeping you emotionally dependent on his constant praise. You're already good at other things, so surely you don't need to have another hobby, right?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Deuce, unlike Ace, would be fiercely protective of your artistic talent. He’d encourage your art with an almost desperate intensity, pushing you to try different brushes and pens, different scenarios and things, but he'd also pressure you to stay focused on what your good at, ensuring you don’t waste time on things you never tried before. His possessiveness would manifest in his need to be your protector, to the point where he'd become intimidating towards anyone who tries to steer you away from your art, that does not apply to yourself, while he think your drawings / paintings are very beautiful, he would not force you to make it more if you're having an episode where you doubt your skills and think you are good only on the art field. If you want to explore new things, Deuce will be by your side the entire time.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Riddle would be intensely supportive yet controlling, pushing you to perfect your craft while ensuring you don't stray too far from his strict rules, even more if you are already his lover. His obsession with your success would become borderline suffocating, as he constantly monitors your progress and enforces discipline to keep you on the right path, nurturing your already beautiful talent. To Riddle, your art is flawless, it's personal and have a touch of you in every drawing, be it digital or traditional. When you come to tell him about your doubts, about how you're only good at art, Riddle promptly sooth you with gentle words, albeit he is a little awkward while talking. He offer to teach you about whatever you want to learn but be prepared because he is somewhat a strict teacher.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Leona would admire your dedication to your art, and he would ask questions about it too, learning as much as your interest as possible. However, his possessiveness would be almost primal, keeping you close under the guise of protection, ensuring you don’t waste time on anything — or anyone — else. Leona would be dismissive of your attempts to explore other talents, reinforcing that your art is the only thing that matters. His control would be subtle yet overpowering, as he ensures your world revolves around him and your art, leaving you with little room for anything else.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Malleus would shower you with endless admiration, captivated by your artistic talent, even more if you were influenced by an artistic movement. He'll notice all the little details, the subtle way the traces converge, how the color scheme is perfect, the way the shadows and the light reflect. He is your number 1 fan, so supportive of you. However, his intense fascination would drag you into his lonely world, where your art becomes your only outlet and he is your audience - though he has your drawings framed and hung on the walls of the castles, so everyone can look at it and admire. Malleus may not understand your struggles and why would you want to pursue another hobby, but he can arrange anything you may want to try at least once, from singing and dancing to sewing and knitting, even the art of potion making, archery or fencing. He just know you're going to find something you like as much as your art, and if you are happy so is he.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Jamil would secretly nurture your talent, subtly guiding your creativity while undermining any attempts you make to excel elsewhere, he sees your art as something free and with many meanings - it makes him relaxed in some sort of way and Jamil wants to be a little greedy here, he wants you to continue creating more pieces, always keeping you under his watchful eye as you started drawing / painting. There's just something so intimate, so calming about it he can't wrap his head around. He loves watching you creating your art, feeling is guard lowering just a little. If you ever approach him with your doubts, Jamil take you to the kitchen so he can teach you a few things about cooking. It's a different kind of art but when all is said and done, it's just as good as when you're creating and make you feeling accomplished.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Kalim would be so overwhelmingly supportive and enthusiastic about it, showering you with gifts and opportunities to nurture your artistic talent, buying everything you may need to create your art, a new software? Sure, no problem, he brought the most expensive one too. A few new pencils and pens? Right away. You need more frames and paints? It will be here in a couple of hours. However, his naivety mixed with possessiveness would lead to unintentional control over your life, as he tries to keep you happy and close by his side. Kalim’s well-meaning gestures would create a gilded cage, where your art flourishes but your freedom is slowly stripped away. He would be oblivious to the suffocating effect of his love, believing that as long as you're happy creating art with him, nothing else matters, leaving you feeling trapped and not knowing how to communicate with him. He have done so much for you already!

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

ANOTHER CHAPTER ALREADY?!

I mean

I dunno what happened

It kinda wrote itself, I had no real hand in this

Please consult with my muses on the subject, I didn't know they were this cracked out tonight

Anyway awaaaay we gggoooooooooo

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x AFAB!Marine!Reader

Ch. 7 of something there's gonna be at least two more chapters

First Chapter link Previous Chapter link

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. He's discovered your secret, and your life hangs in the balance of his mercy.

Possible !!Trigger Warnings!! in this chapter!! Largely for imprisonment and psychological turmoil, though not necessarily psychological torture yet. I will say, for readers who are used to my writing characters with a relatively gentle depiction, I likely won't be taking quite as gentle of an approach here. There is some Yandere possessiveness prevalent here that I haven't written much before.

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count: 3,095

Taglist: @i-am-vita @browneyedhufflepuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @littleleelee @nerium-lil @schanwow @dragon-bubs @animefreak818

I'm happy to add anyone that asks. Still flabbergasted that the list is this long.

I forgot to do a music thing last time bc I was so sleepy but I'mma do one this time but IT'S NOT FRATELLIS?? WHO IS EVEN RUNNING THIS BLOG?? SHOULD YOU CALL THE AUTHORITIES??

♫♬The Game- Disturbed♬♫

Tell me, exactly what am I supposed to do, now that I've allowed you to beat me?

Do you think that we could play another game? Maybe I could win this time

Dead, you were dead, he was going to kill you, and all he would have to do to get the job done would be to leave your right there in the shallows and let the tide slowly wash in until you were submerged, drained of strength and helpless.

To tighten his powerful grip around your neck until you ceased gasping for air.

To pull the golden cross from around his neck and plunge the small knife hidden within it into your torso, drag the sharp blade across your neck, watch the light leave your eyes.

So many ways he could kill you, in this very moment.

And yet his hand moved up your neck slowly, his grip unwavering as his fingers wrapped around your jaw instead. He tilted his head the slightest bit as he turned your head to one side, taking in your features with an air of both amusement and vague interest.

“And you were doing so well,” he said lightly, letting out a small sigh as he shook his head. You flinched as the rough pad of his thumb brushed across your cheek. “If you could have just refrained from making that silly little call to your boss last night—aw,” he added, an edge of mockery in his quiet words. “Did you think I was sound asleep the whole time? Poor thing.”

It hadn’t appeared as if he had done more than shift from his back to his side in the time you were gone last night—there had been absolutely no sign that he had gotten out of bed, not a single sound outside the cracked door of the study.

You should have known better.

“Though I must say, I do appreciate the vote of confidence.” Mihawk stood in a swift motion, tightening his grip around your jaw to pull you up with him, drawing a sharp gasp of alarm from you as your feet lifted a few inches from the ground. Still drenched in seawater, you didn’t even have the strength to lift your arms, held up only by his grasp, limp as a ragdoll. “‘No weaknesses.’ I’m almost flattered.”

You swallowed as he brought you closer, lifting his eyebrows a bit, the corner of his mouth curving the smallest bit into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Provided it wasn’t a lie. You have quite the penchant for fooling others, it seems.” He quirked his brow a bit higher, his eyes darting up and down your limp form before settling back on yours. “Well? Was it a lie?”

“Mm—n-no,” you managed to choke out weakly, your eyes wincing and beginning to burn as his fingertips dug harder into your jaw and cheeks. “No…”

“No?” he repeated lightly. “Now, I’m sure you can do better than that, considering how polite you were with your employer last night. And I’m afraid it’s not them you’re answering to anymore. Try again.”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes flickering down toward his hand. “N—no, sir,” you whimpered.

“Ah, much better. Now, then….” The spark of amusement remained present in his yellow eyes as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek once again. “I suppose we should get you back inside and dried off, yes? I’d hate to see you get sick, pet.”

Your stomach felt as if it had dropped out of your body when he lifted you abruptly and flung you over his shoulder, your consciousness wavering between the complete sapping of your strength from the seawater still drenching your clothes and the state of shock you were left in. You drifted in and out during the trek back to the castle, your muscles limp and useless. You didn’t jolt back to a remotely aware state until he heaved you off and dropped you onto the cold stone floor of an unfamiliar part of the castle.

“I do just hate to have to cage you after all this time,” he said as you gazed around, your eyes squinted against the darkness. Judging from the lack of windows, you were below the ground level—and this was confirmed when he lit a torch along the wall opposite the one you were leaning against. “Nearly two months, it’s been, hasn’t it? Hmm. How the time flies.”

The dim orange light of the flame expanded as he lit another, and you realized he had deposited you in a small, square cell. The stone walls and floor were the same as the rest of the castle, if a great deal dustier, but the heavy iron bars and door made it clear that you were in the dungeon beneath the fortress.

“But, you’ve really left me no choice,” he went on with a soft, disappointed sigh. You could just make out his silhouette against the flickering firelight, the rattle of chains as he dug around in the drawer of a heavy desk just within your line of sight. “At least for now. I can’t have you escaping before we have a proper discussion about…” He lifted a heavy pair of iron shackles, examining them before giving a short nod. “About several things, really.”

He stepped slowly into the cell, his pace one of leisure, and stopped a few feet away from you, looking down at your pitiful form as you leaned back against the stone wall of the cell, struggling to steady your breathing, shivering in your damp clothes. He frowned as he looked you up and down, and gave a nod toward you.

“Off,” he said, his voice low but commanding enough that you jumped slightly, your brow furrowing as you tried to discern his meaning. “Off,” he repeated. “Can’t have you getting sick. We have a great deal to talk about.”

Your clothes. You glanced down at the wet fabric clinging to your skin, your stomach turning—he was telling you to get out of your clothes.

“Oh, modest, are we?” he said dryly, lifting an eyebrow. He took another step forward, crouching in front of you. You flinched back a bit when he reached a hand out and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Two months you’ve spent constantly at my side. I’m certain I’ve changed clothes in your presence more than a handful of times.”

“I...I didn’t...look,” you whimpered out, swallowing, closing your eyes as your face flared with heat.

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed. “I did find that curious, but you were quite the curious little bird.” You opened your eyes when you heard the chains of the shackles clink lightly, and watched as he stood, rolling his eyes as he turned around, his back to you. “Fine,” he said. “You may keep your undergarments. They’ll dry quickly enough.”

You almost wished that he had just killed you out by the shore. The embarrassment, the utter humiliation of pulling your tank top over your head and letting it fall to the floor with the towering form of the swordsman only a few feet away was enough to make you wish you could drop dead on the spot. You fumbled with your belt buckle, the buttons at the fly of your pants, before kicking them off along with your boots, wrapping your arms around your knees and clenching your eyes shut, trembling from more than just the cold, damp air of the dungeon now.

You heard a rustle of fabric in front of you, and before you could open your eyes you felt the material land in a heap at your feet. You cracked an eye open and frowned at the white heap.

Glanced up at him, your eyes widening as you realized he had removed his flowy, ruffled shirt, his back and shoulders bare as he crossed his arms, still facing the door of the cell.

“Put it on,” he commanded, stepping out of the cell. “And quickly. I pride myself on many things, my dear pet, but patience is not among them.”

You were already picking up the shirt and shrugging it around your shoulders before he finished, fumbling with the buttons with unsteady hands. The shirt was large enough on your much smaller form that it covered you from your shoulders to more than halfway down your thighs, the hem brushing your knees as you tugged it down, staring down at the floor, listening to the chair at the desk scrape across the stone. He set it down in front of you and tossed the shackles down at your feet, taking a seat and crossing an ankle over his knee.

“Those as well,” he said.

The moment your hand touched the shackles, you felt what little strength you had managed to regain begin to drift away from your body all over again. He chuckled when you drew your hand back as if you had been shocked.

“Seastone,” he said. “I salvaged them from the wreckage of a Marine vessel a handful of years ago. Thought they might prove useful one day. Go on.” He nodded down at them as you briefly met his eyes. “Around your ankles. So long as you remain compliant, I will allow you the continued use of your hands. You may need them at some point.”

You didn’t dare ask what that might mean.

You did, however, do as he told you. The seastone shackles felt as if they weighed fifty or more pounds, and it took some effort for you to drag them up even to the height of your ankles and clamp them shut.

“Very good,” he commended, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms, his eyes never leaving you as you slumped back weakly against the walls. “Still such an obedient pet, aren’t you?” Every breath you drew in took a herculean effort, felt as if it might be the last you managed to draw before you passed out from sheer physical exhaustion. “Now, this is a first on my part. I’ve never been one to waste time taking prisoners. You ought to consider yourself privileged. Grateful for my continued hospitality despite your blatant betrayal.”

You swallowed, unable to do anything but give a weak nod.

He gave another small chuckle. “You’ve been trained to handle being the victim of a potential hostage situation,” he commented—it wasn’t a question. He cocked his head slightly to the side. “You’re quite small for a Marine. What rank are you, little bird?”

“Cadet,” you forced out—and, when he lifted an eyebrow, you quickly added, “s—sir.”

“Cadet,” he repeated, leaning back a bit further. “Hm.” He lifted a hand to his chin, his expression thoughtful as he brushed his thumb across his short goatee. “And they saw fit to send you after me.” You nodded again. “Your commanding officers either have a great amount of faith in your potential or they were trying to get rid of you. Which do you think it was?”

“T...they offered me the mission,” you said quietly. “I could have turned it down.”

“Faith in your potential, then,” he said lightly. “What a pity for them Of course, they weren’t wrong,” he went on, lowering his hand down to his knee, strumming his fingers there slowly. “You did play your role well. Well enough to fool that charming pet shop owner in Acacia, even. A veritable expert on the subject. You must have done your homework. Breezed through all your tests with flying colors. I did my own homework, as you know. Amid my reading, I recall mention that wounded or sick pets might show signs of decreased appetite. Interruption of sleep. In extreme cases, potentially isolating themselves from their owners. You see…” He tilted his head once more to meet your eyes, his gaze holding your own with an intensity that made it impossible for you to break the contact. “Had I not woken last night we might not even be having this conversation. Had I not noticed your absence and worried enough to go looking for you.”

Your worry over your mission. Your inability to eat or sleep regularly. Of course he had noticed. You were an idiot to think he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Had I not heard a voice coming from the study below my chambers,” he went on, lowering his voice, “you might have been able to complete your mission without a single hitch. I would have been forced to assume when you left that you had flown off somewhere to die.”

You flinched at that, closing your eyes and lowering your head.

“Oh, now what is this?” He chuckled. “Are we feeling guilty?”

“Yes.” You spoke through gritted teeth—there was no point in lying. You were already compromised, already at his mercy. “I…made the call last night because I…I couldn’t leave with nothing to show for it. Or without…” You swallowed once more, lowering your head to your knees. “I only had four days left. I was expected to slip away unnoticed and rendezvous with my commanding officers at a designated location before returning to Marineford to report on any potential weaknesses of yours I might have discovered.”

“And you claimed you found none,” he continued for you.

You nodded. “But...caring for another living creature is always a potential weakness,” you said quietly.

“Aaah.” You swallowed dryly, clenching your eyes shut tighter as you heard him push the chair back. The whisper of his boots on the stone floor as he took a step forward, the quiet rustle as he crouched down in front of you. “And you were unwilling to list your own presence as a potential weakness. Is that it?” You nodded again, and tensed as he caught your chin in his hand. “And here I’ve already admitted to having worried for the well-being of my pet. You certainly did do a stellar job, didn’t you, my little bird?”

His tone, his touch was almost gentle, despite that edge of persisting amusement at your predicament.

“Open your eyes.”

You obeyed his command once again—though your eyelids fluttered in your growing state of exhaustion brought on by the effects of the seastone shackles wrapped around your ankles, you did your best to maintain eye contact, only vaguely aware of his thumb brushing across your bottom lip as you gazed into his yellow irises.

“I may yet have use for you,” he murmured, his voice still light and amused. “I suppose you are a pretty little thing, if nothing else. And your abilities...well, you managed to fool me, now, didn’t you? Don’t,” he added, his tone sharpening as your eyes began to drift shut, and they shot back open. “There’s one more matter. You spoke of some offer while you were making your call last night. What is it?”

“W...warlord,” you forced out. “The World Government wants to offer pirates they consider too dangerous to combat status as ‘Warlords.’ No more than seven. Bounties expunged in exchange for an agreement to cease hostility against Marines and other World Government officials, and potentially being called upon to assist with other threats.”

“Warlords,” he repeated, letting out a quiet chuckle. “And you’ve been granted permission to extend me this offer?” You gave a small nod, blinking slowly, fighting to keep your eyes open. “Since you’ve reported to your commanding officers that I have no weaknesses they can exploit.” Another nod, and a quiet affirmative hum. “Mm-hmm,” he repeated, smirking. “I suppose it’s worth thinking over. At least until you’ve regained the ability to discuss the subject coherently.”

“Four days.” He lifted his eyebrows at your mumbling, waiting for you to continue. “Need to make contact in four days or they could send a Buster Call.”

“Ah.” His thumb brushed across your cheek, and you found yourself leaning unconsciously toward the warmth of his palm. “So they would sink this entire island into the depths of the ocean with you still on it, would they?” The hum you gave this time was neither affirmative nor dissenting—it was simply in acknowledgment that he had spoken at all, as your lessening coherency made it increasingly difficult to follow his words. “That does sound quite like the Marines. Heaven forbid they should have any loose ends to worry about.”

He expelled a slow sigh, one that might have been of resignation or annoyance, or perhaps some melding of both. Either way, the warmth of his breath across your face made your eyes drift shut, made you fall fully limp against the wall behind you.

You barely registered anything beyond that. Not his light shake at your shoulder in attempt to rouse you, his exasperated sigh as he caught you before you could fall sideways and hit your head against the stone floor.

Not his irritated grumble of, “Troublesome woman,” as he drew one of your hands up to cushion your head against the hard stone floor before he pulled himself to his feet to frown down at you.

To wonder why he hadn’t shoved his way through the door of his study the moment he heard your voice last night and throttled you in that moment.

To wonder why the hell he still had any concern at all for your continued safety and well-being.

You had spent two months, two months deceiving him, abusing his good will, masquerading as a loyal companion when you were nothing more than a dirty little spy.

His hands twitched into fists for a moment as he stared down at you, gritting his teeth. He could end your life right now. It would be only too easy. Crush your throat beneath the heel of his boot. Wrap a hand around your delicate neck until the labored rise and fall of your chest ceased entirely. You had already warned him of the Marines’ potential intent to destroy this island. He could dispose of you and leave on his own before that ever came to pass.

You shifted in your sleep on the cold stone floor, shivering slightly and laying a hand over the toe of one of his boots.

Mihawk swore under his breath, reaching behind him to drag the chair back into place and sit down heavily, crossing his arms over his chest as he surveyed your slight form below him on the floor covered only by his own shirt.

“What exactly am I supposed to do with you?” he grumbled under his breath, shaking his head, not completely aware himself of how his own gaze softened as he looked down at you. “Useless thing….”

His prisoner.

His pet.

His pretty little bird.

He would be damned if anyone but him were allowed to decide your fate.

First chapter and Previous chapter links again for your convenience

[onlydylanobrien]

Dylan O’Brien Talks His Queer Indie Twinless: “The Most Naked Thing I’ve Ever Had to Do”

The Teen Wolf and Maze Runner star goes deep on his biggest career swing yet, portraying identical twins in James Sweeney’s trippy, moving tale of grief and friendship.

When James Sweeney first considered casting Dylan O’Brien in his new film, Twinless, he came in with some preconceived notions about the actor. This was five years ago, before the Teen Wolf alum had started his run in acclaimed indies like Not Okay and Ponyboi. “He was a studio actor—the projects that he had upcoming were these big budget movies,” Sweeney recalls thinking. Beside him on Zoom now, O’Brien shakes his head at the memory: “Even on the first Zoom with James, those movies that came up had me going like, ‘Oh my God, that’s not all you think of me, is it?’”

Then James came across two relatively obscure entries in O’Brien’s filmography that showcased his versatility—and willingness to get weird. The first was the pilot episode of YouTube’s Weird City, in which two straight guys (O’Brien and Ed O’Neill) fall in love and get married. The second was O’Brien’s outrageously committed recreation of a key scene from The Social Network with Sarah Ramos, which went viral the same year Sweeney and O’Brien first met. “I used to work in casting as my day job, and sometimes people have a very myopic view of what an actor can do,” Sweeney says. “To me, it’s exciting to cast them in something that I haven’t seen them do.”

You might guess what that thing is based on this strange, biting film’s title. In Twinless, we first meet O’Brien’s Roman grieving the sudden loss of his identical twin, Rocky (also O’Brien). The character is mournful, quiet, and gentle, only enlivened once he meets and starts to bond with a guy named Dennis (Sweeney) in a local twin bereavement support group. In flashbacks, we then meet Rocky—tartly witty, boisterous, and proudly queer—at which point the scope of O’Brien’s impressive, emotional performance comes into full view.

“Dylan really took ownership over the character and an understanding of my voice in a way that was really affirming,” James says. O’Brien felt a kinship with his director: “I felt like I spoke a very similar emotional language.”

Sweeney grew up fascinated by twins, including as an avid consumer of Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen content. Some years ago, he dated an identical twin. Right after they broke up, Sweeney began writing Twinless. Clearly, all that was inspiration worth drawing from: After making its world premiere in Park City to strong reactions, we’ve already got a breakout from this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sweeney both directs and stars in Twinless, as he did on his debut feature, the sharp comedy Straight Up. “I wasn’t gung ho to do the masochist ball again,” he says with a laugh. “Even the idea of me opposite Dylan O’Brien, who’s famous while I’m literally nobody—that’s not good business! That’s the producer side of my brain.” Yet the film’s actual producer, Oscar nominee David Permut (Hacksaw Ridge), gave Sweeney the confidence to go for it.

From there, he and O’Brien worked to find a deep, off-kilter intimacy. “On day two, we were doing an intimate conversation scene, and I’m like, ‘The crew’s away, we’ve got to go,’ and Dylan was like, ‘No, we can take time and rehearse this with us and everyone else can wait,’” Sweeney says. “Even that moment of calm and having it just between us, it really set the tone…. Dylan really advocated for that.”

Sweeney and Dylan share most of their scenes in the film, which goes to some delightfully surprising, discomfiting, and absurdist places. There’s pain to Twinless, but it’s laced with dark, cuttingly honest comedy. “That loss of the ground underneath you walking around this world is so tragic,” O’Brien says. “It just broke my heart in such a profound way when I first read it.”

His most emotional scene in the movie pushed him to look inward. “I honored it verbatim on the day, which might be the only time in my career that’s happened,” O’Brien says with a laugh. “It’s the most naked thing I’ve ever had to do on a set. Even at 32 years old—I’ve been doing this for going on 15 years now. It’s so beautiful that you can still have a moment that is such an impactful evolution for yourself.”

“After he did that scene, it was so fucking good. And then I had to do my [big] scene the next day,” Sweeney adds. “I was like, Fuck. If I don’t get this, I’m going to ruin the movie. That terrified me.”

Another thing that got Sweeney’s anxiety going: Shooting a vivid, graphic sex scene. “It was the most revealing, mature scene that I had done in my directing career so far,” he says. Yet Twinless finds its funky heart in its most romantic, explicit aspects, building on the nuanced and textured approach to queerness that Sweeney first demonstrated in Straight Up. “It’s just one of those things you throw yourself into,” O’Brien says. “The crew was really tight-knit, and it was a cool vibe. Everyone got what we were doing.” So much so that Sweeney and O’Brien didn’t need as much assistance as expected.

“We decided to have an intimacy coordinator on set—but I don’t think we needed one, and I don’t think the intimacy coordinator thought we needed one,” Sweeney says. O’Brien booms with laughter at the memory. “He was hilarious,” O’Brien says. “He ducked out early. He’s like, ‘Oh, you’re good.’”

Source: vanityfair.com

[raven--bones]

I'm really loving your incubus au! I am excited and horrified to see what happens to our summoner next. And I'm really interested to see how the rest of the boys (especially Dream and Blue) get roped into these shenanigans.

ask and ye shall receive <3

incubus nightmare/reader part 2! (part 1 here) characters: nightmare, gender neutral reader word count: 1946 summary: there is an archdemon in your living room.

The archdemon looms above you in the dark, his unbroken horn nearly brushing your ceiling. He has to be well over two metres tall. 

“Hello, little mageling.” His voice is intoxicating; deep, alluring, and warm like mulled wine. He speaks calmly, softly, with utter confidence. He doesn’t need to raise his voice to command your attention. 

You don’t dare look away for even a second. You feel like you’ll be eaten up by the darkness if you do. You can feel cool, shadowy tendrils stroking along your legs already, keeping you held in place on the floor. 

“Do you know who I am?” 

Your voice is dead in your throat. Your mind is racing, desperate to place his appearance to the archdemons you know… but you can’t. You’re not that far in your studies yet. You’ve only barely started to research the minor demons for your courses. You weren’t meant to be summon demons with names, let alone archdemons. 

You’re trapped with an uncontained archdemon in your living room and you don’t even know which one it is. You can guess, but to be wrong is to risk insulting something powerful enough to consume your soul. 

The archdemon slowly lowers into a crouch, his robes shifting in colour like an oil slick. The movement reminds you of a tiger preparing to pounce. Even like his he is so much bigger than you and no less intimidating. The tentacles at his back curl and weave around you, boxing you in. You lie there frozen in his shadow. “No? My, how very reckless… using an incantation outside your comprehension.”

He reaches forward slowly. The tip of one massive claw rests gently against your throat, then slowly slides up until the point presses, dangerously sharp, against the soft skin under your chin. The touch ignites a frigid chill of fear down your spine and a spark of warmth in your belly. The archdemon’s grin widens and the shadows clinging along your legs constrict. “Tell me, sorcerer. Are you aware of what you have done?”

You still can’t speak. The air is heavy with cold, dense magic. It feels like you’re slowly choking.

The archdemon hums; a low, dark sound that you can feel in your bones. “I see.” He pulls his claw back from your throat and you gasp for air when you can suddenly breathe, the pressure of the magic around you released. The atmosphere is still thick with mana but at least you can breathe. 

You struggle to catch your breath despite it. Your heart is pounding in your chest. 

The demon awaits your answer.

When you finally find your voice it sounds weak and hollow. It wavers with your fear and trepidation. “I-I don’t know. I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to summon you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing.” Your voice breaks with every apology. All you can do is hope that your sincerity earns you mercy, that your desperation overpowers whatever it was that had earned his curiosity. If he loses interest in you maybe he’ll grow bored and leave you be. 

“Allow me to enlighten you.” He reaches down and taps a claw to the little incubus’ drawing. “This is one of the first summoning circles your kind created. Barely strong enough for even a lowly imp. And this…” He holds up your notecard now, your handwriting barely visible for the moonlight through the window. The incantation you’d copied. “This is a spell, older than your little human civilisation, to summon me.” 

But that… that doesn’t make sense. Your gaze drops to the dozens of papers scattered around you as though they hold the answer. None of this is making any sense. You can’t combine incompatible circles and spells, they’re complimentary to each other. The matching ones have to be used together.

The cool, slick end of a tentacle finds its way under your chin, tilting your face up to meet the archdemon’s again. 

“Come now. Surely you can put the pieces together.” 

The spoken spell is the catalyst, the instructions you’re trying to give the magic. The rune circle is those instructions translated into something your mana can focus through, with the added bonus of amplifying it with the ambient mana around you; without a circle a human’s intent is too fickle and fleeting to be used.

No mage you’ve ever heard of can do magic with only the spoken component.

This is bad. This is very bad. There’s something weird with your magic, clearly, but this archdemon knows what it is… and it’s only making him more and more interested in you. 

“You are a clever thing, aren’t you.” He’s watching you like a cat with a canary caught in its claws; like he wants to rip you apart and consume you in equal measure. “Tell me your name, little sorcerer.” 

All you can do is obey. Maybe if you play along you can get out of this unscathed. You tell him your name. The archdemon echoes it back to you and something about the way he says it feels like a vice around your heart. Constricting and final. 

He seems pleased by your compliance, slowly standing to his full height with an amused hum. “I am known by many names.” You’re pushed to your feet by the tentacles around you. Your knees are weak and as you falter a tentacle winds around your waist to keep you upright. Another loops behind your shoulders, walling you in until all you can see is the demon before you framed in darkness. “Ephialtes. Incubus.” It’s never a good sign when a demon has multiple names, or is significant enough to be named after the type he is. Unless– “I believe your kind presently know me as Nightmare.” –the type is named after him. 

The first incubus.

Your understanding must be written on your face. Nightmare’s grin is like a crescent moon, pale and contrasting against his otherwise dark form. “You realise, then, the situation you are in.” He pulls you towards him; his tentacles continue to slither about your form until your arms are pinned to your sides and you’re nearly pressed to his chest. You’re so close you could count the delicate silver links that make up his necklaces, or each cuff on his ribs. “Summoning me is not without consequence.” 

A demon that is summoned without the proper containment isn’t bound by any rules. They are free to wreak havoc until they’re dismissed with the proper ritual or decide to leave of their own accord. You are in no place to even begin dismissing him– even if you weren’t being held captive you aren’t trained to get rid of anything more powerful than an imp. You have no idea what a demon as powerful as Nightmare will want to do before he decides to leave.

“It has been many centuries since I have seen a human mage with mana anywhere close to half of yours, and even then… the focused intent required to summon me without the use of a circle is unheard of.” His claw finds your chin again, turning your face from side to side. “And all while not understanding the spell that you are reading. How long have you been studying?”

You can’t do the math under this kind of pressure. You flounder for a moment, trying to calculate something that normally you can just say off the top of your head. “I-I’m just an apprentice. I still have- I have to take the advanced courses. I have years to go before I’m licensed, even more while I, um…do internships for- for practical experience. This is the four- fifth summoning I’ve done.” And only the second unsupervised. You’ve ruined your perfect track record.

“Hmmm... Is anyone aware of your abilities?” 

You shake your head. 

Nightmare’s claw moves up to your cheek, lightly tracing down it. It follows the curve of your jaw before he places it above your heart. 

“Perfect. You will not speak of your magic talents with anyone but myself.” The command settles cold and heavy in your chest. A curse. “I propose a deal, mageling. I will share my knowledge of magic with you. In exchange you will be bound to me.” 

You stare at him, voice once again lost. 

“You may decline, of course.” He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world to refuse him. As though you’re not currently at his mercy. “But you will forget this meeting and what you have learned about your magic. In addition I will seal your mana at normal levels. You will not be able to make the same mistakes again.” That doesn’t sound that bad. You’ve gotten by this far without knowing the extent of your skills. Losing something you didn’t know you had isn’t a terrible price to escape your current predicament. But… the allure of being taught magic by someone as powerful as Nightmare... 

Many mages have made deals with demons in exchange for knowledge and power. Historically, they’re the most notable ones. It’s taboo but their contributions to magic can’t be understated. You’re sure many of the other fondly-remembered historically significant mages just managed to keep their dark dealings a secret. 

You can’t believe you’re considering it.

“What would… being bound to you entail?” That’s the only caveat, you should know what you’d be getting into.

Nightmare seems pleased. His voice dips into a purr that makes your stomach flip. “You will be claimed as mine. You will never have to fear the threat of another demon– none would dare to accost someone bearing my mark. I will be able to find and come to you no matter where you are. In turn, you will be able to call for me.” You furrow your eyebrows. That sounds an awful lot like– “Yes, little bird. A bond of the soul.” 

That’s a lot. That’s a massive commitment. Not the worst thing he could ask for. But… why would he want to be bonded to you?

You’re incredulous. Curiosity and confusion momentarily overpowers your fear. “What would you get out of something like that?” 

Nightmare’s gaze is unwavering and intense, the bright cyan light in his socket keeping you transfixed. “You.” He pulls you closer. “You are far more valuable than you realise. I want to make you mine.”

He wants you as a tool. A weapon. 

But you would learn so much. You could become the most powerful mage in the world. Your potential is more than you ever conceived. Are you willing to lose that, now that you know just how far you could go? 

Are you willing to give yourself to an archdemon to achieve it?

“Your life will remain largely unchanged. You may continue your tutelage with your mentors. I will give you access to tomes and scrolls you would otherwise never obtain, and visit on occasion to teach you what cannot be learned from self-study. You will still be free to do as you wish.” His eyelight glints mischievously. “Mostly. I will require you to fulfill some tasks every now and again.” 

You bite your lip. You’re still considering it. Even after knowing the consequences. 

Forget everything or become bound to an archdemon forever. 

“The bond. How would you…” You trail off, cheeks warming somewhat. You’re not even sure how to phrase the question. You’re almost afraid to ask.

“Ah.” Nightmare traces your cheek again. You can’t help but enjoy the cool feeling of his bones on your flushed skin. You resist the urge to lean into it. “I am Incubus, little bird. That seems fairly obvious.” 

Your face erupts into a furious blush. That’s what you thought. You can’t say the thought is unpleasant. The opposite, even. You ignore the way your thighs press together the more your mind wanders down that train of thought.

“I… can I have time to think about it?” Your mind is racing. There are so many things to consider.

Your options are limited; accept or forget and have your potential limited. What are you willing to do to become more than you’ve ever thought yourself capable? Are you willing to be stifled to return to the status quo?

“This is not an offer I will make more than once. You must choose now.” Nightmare unwinds his tentacles from around you, gently setting you on the floor. They remain curled around you—you’re under no illusion of real freedom—but you’re no longer constricted. He holds out a hand to you, palm upwards, silver rings glinting in the soft light of the moon. “What is your answer?”

[stormeenights]

I’m alive! Yay! I really wanted to add more to this drawing(like some actual g/t interaction) but motivation ran out so this is what you’re gonna get! (I have some actual g/t + introductions in the works too)

This is Lavender, our tiny! I haven’t fully decided on her size yet but she is around 3-5 inches tall, usually very bold and isn’t afraid to stand up for her morals! This drawing of her happened to be angst so you don’t get to see her usual confident self, but I’ve had her bouncing around my brain for YEARS, so you’re going to see a lot of her!

(If anyone has any questions about my characters or art, PLEASE ask me! Every question helps me expand my characters!)

[ratwithastylus]

A little illustration of an NPC from the Zelda-themed campaign I’m planning 🦅

His name is Reyli and he’s (quite obviously) a Rito; very sweet yet confident little guy who likes to pretend that he doesn’t have a soft and quiet side :)

I’m pretty new to drawing anthropomorphic characters; it’s been fun to learn so far!

[greenfiend]

I don’t know if you’ve already answered this but I was wondering how you think Will’s dark past with Lonnie will be revealed to the audience in season 5 as well as to other characters? I think your theory about Will’s past with Lonnie is correct but I know it’s definitely a heavy topic that needs to be addressed appropriately to work. So I guess I’m also asking how do you think the show will appropriately address Will’s trauma and the healing process he’ll have to go through.

GREAT question anon!

I think the reveal will come down to uncovering Will’s message to Mike in the very first episode.

“It was a seven. The Demogorgon, it got me.”

We have several instances of the characters discussing codes and hidden messages and meanings… and it all comes back to that single line.

Mike knows the code but has yet to understand the meaning behind it. I think some metaphorical time travel will be necessary for him to learn the full truth. I mean, we already know that a younger Mike, Will, and Jonathan will make an appearance next season…

I believe the “7” is related to 7 years ago from 1983. This would be 1976 when Will and Mike were both 5 years old. Something very significant happened that year that changed Will’s life forever (not in a good way).

The show has been addressing Will’s trauma this whole time (I believe) through the supernatural and through subtle hidden subtext. I think the memories/trauma of other characters will begin to connect. Like how Will’s drawings of the tunnels connect in ST2, or Max’s drawings of the Creel house connect in ST4. It’s like a puzzle!

So far most of us have been led astray to believe this supernatural being is responsible for all the destruction… but he’s not! It was an ordinary mediocre man this whole time. Lonnie Byers. Vecna only exists due to the pain and suffering this ordinary man has caused,

Do I think Lonnie will return and will be fought? Ehh, not exactly. I think his essence will return, the memories of him will return… and that’s enough. It won’t be about defeating him, it’ll be more so about healing from him. He isn’t important, but the impact he made on Will is important.

Sooo how will things go down? Well, I do think we will see Will going through A LOT. He will be haunted by this past more than ever and won’t fully understand why… because his memories have been repressed. El, Vecna (and others) hold his memories. The most traumatic ones at least. Will needs to access these memories, this is key! Will may need to “combine” or rather “fuse” with El and Vecna in order to unlock the full truth of the past.

The library will be an important location because it’s an archive and holds truths of the past.

Mike will uncover the code, without a doubt. He’s far smarter than most give him credit for. Sure he can be oblivious at time, but he will be the one uncovering the truth… since he’s the only one who has it! He's "had it this whole time". He was the only one Will trusted enough to fully confide in, even if it was in code.

In terms of Will’s healing, I’m guessing we will also likely see Will meet with Ms. Kelley on several occasions, and hints of the truth will slowly come out. After learning the full truth, Will must learn two important facts:

What happened to him was never his fault. He "didn't deserve anything" that had happened to him.

He has “free will” and can break the cycle of a*use. He feels like he will inevitably become the monster, but that's just not true!

The monsters being fought will be internal monsters that have plagued Will since he was very young.

Will will be given strength by his support system and through finally learning to love and believe in himself.

[gabbiecasso]

Sharing my recent journal entry about Neve Gallus and myself, so let me yap

One of the biggest reasons Neve means so much to me is because I see myself in her. I’ve always been logical and analytical, always trying to figure things out—why something works, why it doesn’t. That curiosity naturally led me to problem-solving, but it also made me intellectualize my emotions instead of just feeling them, even though I know I’m a deeply emotional person.

Neve’s struggle is not that she lacks emotions—it’s that she feels too much. She’s the kind of person who catches the smallest inconsistencies, pieces together the truth with precision, and always seems to know what’s really going on. Her logic is sharp, her deduction skills nearly unmatched. And yet, when it comes to her own emotions, she shuts them down. Not because she doesn’t understand them, but because she does. She knows that if she lets them take over, they might unravel everything she’s built—her discipline, her duty, her control. And god, do I feel the same way.

The way I see it, our logic isn’t just a tool—it’s a shield. We both intellectualize our emotions, treating them like puzzles to be solved rather than experiences to be felt. But emotions aren’t rational, and the more we try to categorize them, the more they slip through our grasp. So instead, we repress them.

But repression isn’t the same as control. Neve’s emotions don’t disappear—they linger beneath the surface, showing up in subtle ways. In the way she hesitates before making a choice that should be easy. In the way she avoids thinking about what comes next. In the way she convinces herself that as long as she keeps moving forward, she’ll be fine.

Her emotional logic is a paradox—she tries to rationalize feelings that, by nature, resist logic. And deep down, she knows she can’t keep running from them forever.

When my emotions rise and start clouding my judgment, I panic—not because I don’t understand them, but because I know myself. I know how deeply I can feel, but I don’t always know how far those feelings will take me. I think Neve is the same way. She’s confident in herself, but she doesn’t know her breaking point.

And maybe that’s why falling in love can feel so terrifying for someone deeply logical and analytical. You can study it, observe it, notice the smallest details, and even rationalize why a person makes you feel the way they do—but love isn’t something you can fully understand. It has to be felt. And for someone like Neve, who’s spent so long relying on logic, that’s exactly what makes it so daunting. She knows she has feelings for Rook, but acknowledging them isn’t the same as allowing herself to feel them. So she represses them, over and over again.

Man, human behavior and emotions have always been my favorite topics, so stumbling upon Neve’s character was such a treat. But honestly? Watching her struggle was like watching myself, LOL. Not to mention, we both share the same deep-seated need to be of service to others. The need to fulfill a duty, god. As someone who thrives on acts of service, I get it. When you want to be there for people, you start taking on everything yourself without even realizing it. Sometimes it’s so second nature that I don’t even notice I’ve gone out of my way to do something I swore I wouldn’t—like taking a route I hate just to make sure a friend gets home safe—until someone else points it out.

Learning to balance logic with emotion—understanding my feelings while also allowing myself to truly feel them—and balancing the need to be of service to others and to myself, it has been a lifelong journey.

It's exactly the reason why I draw.

I’ll remember Neve for a very long time. I don’t think I’ve ever come across a fictional character who mirrors me this well.

I don't follow zodiac signs religiously but me being a Capricorn (Sun) and Virgo (moon) is too much of a coincidence that explains my overly logical + overworked ass LOL

[theblueprincess590]

A Dull and Ordinary Sky-An Analysis of Kingdom Hearts 3

Sora is not Special. There is nothing extraordinary or fantastic about him. He is nothing more than a dull and ordinary boy. Merely playing the role of the Prince Charming because he happened to be at the right place at the right time. If it wasn’t for his friends, wasn’t for the people he was lucky enough to meet he would be just another nameless face in the crowd. He’s no Princess of Heart with a pure light and grand cosmic destiny like Kairi nor was he chosen to inherit the keyblade and ideals of previous masters like Riku. Heck even the empty husk he left behind is more important than him. At least Roxas was the Organization's first choice, unlike Sora who wasn't just their second choice but third choice. Sora is not the hero of this story, he’s just a delivery boy. At least that's what Sora thinks. 

While Sora hides it well with his happy go lucky and friendly personality there is an undeniable lack of sense worth underlying his character. In Kingdom Hearts 1 Sora declares to the corrupted Riku he no longer needs a weapon, that his friends are his power. This scene is originally framed as victorious but in retrospect it is the first domino in an ever escalating feeling of self loathing. In Birth By Sleep Sora’s own words are echoed by his predecessor, Ventus, however there is a slight difference. In BBS Ventus says, “My friends are my power, and I’m theirs.” With just one additional line Ventus reveals to the audience the deep sheeted flaws in Sora’s ideals. Sora places all his faith in his connections yet fails to acknowledge his own strengths. In Sora’s mind it’s his friends who give him all his strength and without them he’s just worthless. A very dangerous way of thinking that is only validated in Sora’s mind by the Keyblade returning to him in KH1.     

Eventually this toxic mindset brings about Sora’s downfall when he is tested for the Mark of Mastery in Dream Drop Distance. As said by Eraqus in Birth By Sleep, the Mark of Mastery is where a keyblade weilder’s true nature is revealed, and for Sora this test reveals how deep his denial of self worth goes. Throughout his adventures in The Sleeping Worlds Sora continues to rely on the power of friendship, putting those he cares about above himself. Too busy admiring the brilliance of Riku and Mickey to even notice the ever growing darkness in his own heart. Even when it is pointed out to him time and time again by the taunting Young Xehanort. Sora is unable or unwilling to see how the pain and suffering of those within his heart is slowly smothering him.  

Sora fails the Mark of Mastery as he plays directly into Xehanort’s stained hands. This failure could have been avoided if he just placed some faith in himself, if he recognized the fact that he too gives his friends strength. Perhaps then he could have shared the burden of Roxas, Ventus, and Xion’s pain rather than be buried in it, but that's not what happened. Xigbar confronts Sora putting to words all the painful thoughts Sora has buried in the back of his mind, and instead of fighting back against those words, instead of declaring his worth, Sora validates them. Though half hearted pride he lies about not caring that he wasn’t chosen and once again declares his friends are his power. Sealing his fate as he is dragged into the darkness born from his own weakness, nearly turning into a Xehanort, and being stripped of all power. Something needs to change and Sora’s heart knows it.

In Kingdom Hearts 3 Sora’s very own heart sets him on the path not only to regain his power but to change. He is sent to mount Olypmus where he earns some of his confidence back by fighting alongside Herc to save both the realm of men and the realm of the gods. Most importantly he learns to fight with all his heart, drawing strength directly from himself, creating new powers never seen before such as air step, attraction flow rides, and formchanges. In Toy Box Sora is sent to reexamine his ideals. To see the power of friendship not as a crutch to lean on but as a power that is shared between others so they may support one another in the face of darkness. Demetrasted though the test run conflict against Young Xehanort.  Kingdom of Corona and Monstropolis both place Sora in the role of a fairy tale guardian in order to remind Sora that he is the protector and not the protected. Which he passes with flying colors by showing Rapunzel how to have fun through experiencing the joys of the outside world and by teaching Boo to be brave by laughing in the face of terror. In the Hundred Acre Woods Sora repairs bonds that have grown weak, learning that to truly cherish his bonds he must do more than simply put his faith in them, he must nurture them. Arrendelle is where Sora’s heart pushes him to endure, to see if he is truly willing to live by his ideals when the powers that be reject him. And endure Sora does, as he befriends Anna, Elsa, Kristoff, Sven, Olaff, and Marshmallow in spite of Xehanort and the world’s roadblocks. Going from dreading the snow to loving it. The Carribeans push Sora to make his biggest change going from a follower to leader. He becomes captain of his own ship and joins the Pirate War as their greatest asset. Finally culminating in San Fransokyo which mirrors the first stop in this journey of the heart, with it being Sora’s turn to act as the hero who inspires those to move forward in face of their doubt.

Through the heart’s journey Sora is reborn from a boy full of doubt playing dress up to a true man and champion. So his heart sends him where he’s needed. Sora returns to Destiny Island, the world where it all began, where he finds Master’s Defender, a special keyblade passed down through a legacy of masters. With all of Sora’s growth the keyblade acknowledges Sora sending him to save its current master, Aqua. And that Sora does as he saves Aqua from herself after becoming Anti-Aqua, finally bringing her back to light. Through the acceptance of Master’s Defender and the rescue of Aqua Sora shows to all his peers that not only has he reached the level of a Keyblade Master but has surpassed them. However Sora’s heart is not yet done. There is one more person Sora needs to save and one more secret he has to learn. Through the first bond Sora ever made, Ventus. Sora learns he had never truly lost The Power of Waking. Instead it had remained dormant in his heart. Waiting for the time when Sora would be ready, when he would understand who he truly is and what his power is meant for. When Sora’s heart saw him as a hero who uses his powers to save those in need. Sora’s heart finally accepts him as he truly becomes Prince Charming using The Power of Waking to save the one he’s spent his entire life protecting, to wake up Ven.

With all the trials and tribulations passed Sora has finally defeated his lack of self worth and become the star of his own fairy tale. Except he's not, he is still just the delivery boy, but how can that be? After all he’s accomplished, after all the lives he has saved, and after all he’s grown, how can Sora’s heart still not accept him? That's just the thing though, Sora’s heart DID accept him. The fact he got The Power of Waking back is proof of his heart’s acknowledgement. No, the only person who still looks down on Sora, who still thinks he’s not good enough, is Sora himself. The thing about self loathing no matter how much you improve, no matter how much good you do you will always see yourself as a fraud.

Sora can not accept himself because he truly does not believe he has earned his heart's acceptance. In Sora’s eyes he can only see his losses. It wasn't him who defeated the titans and saved mount Olympus but Hercules, Sora was just the towel boy. Woody was the one who called out young Xehanort and saved Buzz. All Sora did was piggy back on his words. Heck not only did Young Xehnort get the best of him earlier in the video game store, but Sora utterly failed to get the Toys back home to Andy. Sora was practically useless. He completely froze against Vanitas in Monstropolis needing both Donald and Goofy to protect him while Mike and Sully took care of the abomination. He would never have to repair his bond with Pooh if he didn’t let Xehanort almost Nort him in the first place. Worst of all in the Kingdom of Corona, Arrndelle, and the Caribbean Sora is powerless to save three of his friends as he watches the light leave their eyes. Of course none of these failures actually discount all the good Sora did in these worlds or all the people he’s helped.  And yet they are Sora’s takeaways

Even Sora’s greatest victory, the return of Ventus through The Power of Waking, a symbol of his ascension to Prince Charming status, is not truly his own in his eyes. When Ventus tries to thank Sora for everything and offers him a handshake Sora hesitates. As if he is unsure if he has the right to accept Ven’s thanks. Because deep down Sora does not believe himself to be worthy. Sora attributes this victory not to himself but Ventus believing The Power of Waking only worked because of Ventus' help. And It’s no wonder Sora would come to think this lie. Not just because of his lack of self worth but because out of all his friends Ventus is the one Sora puts on the highest pedestal, believing the light hearted boy to be the entire reason Sora is even a part of this story.

So when Sora enters the Keyblade graveyard with his very soul blind to the truth his heart is screaming at him he brings about the downfall of the Guardians of Light. In the battle against the thirteenth member, TerraNort, Sora fails to even strike the man with his doubt holding him back. Sora leaves it to his friends to pick up the slack only for them to end up severely weakened allowing the darkness to pick them off one by one. Thanks to Sora’s weakness, light expires and darkness prevails. 

Perhaps this loss was for the best though. It is only when Sora is stripped of everything that he is at last forced to reveal his secret. Bringing to words every horrible thought of himself he’s kept hidden. He truly thinks of himself as worthless without his friends. And of course the one who understands Sora the best informs him of what his heart has been trying to tell him this whole time. Sora isn’t worthless, he gives his friends just as much strength as they give him, and the hero of this story is no one else but Sora. Riku tells Sora the words he’s needed to hear this whole time. Inspiring Sora to finally be the savior his friends see him as.

The Final Worlds is a place made of sky and sea where fallen hearts that are still connected to the worlds of the living remain until they either return to Kingdom Hearts or fade away. It is a world of death but for Sora is the place of his rebirth. In The Final World Sora by his own hands put himself back together, collecting the scattered pieces of his body, heart, mind, and soul to become a whole once again. Which Sora does not only by using all of his movement abilities, a manifestation of his body's power, but by exerting his will over the world itself to manipulate its shape, becoming King of the Sky. Sora restores his very sense of self both literally and figuratively as the shackles of self loathing begin to loosen on his heart.  

To finally free himself of these shackles Sora must save his friends in the only way he can. Sora must perform a miracle. Sora does what no one has done before, he defeats death itself. Sora takes the Power of Waking, proof of his mastery over the keyblade, and uses it to wake his friend’s heart not from any old kind of sleep but the final sleep. Using The Power of Waking in such an orthodox way Sora travels to his friend's heart through the worlds themselves waking them up from death and in the process defeating the most ancient of heartless, The Lich. Through Sora’s victory over death he completes not only his rebirth but archives true actualization shown through his claim of the Spell Aeroga, the ultimate spell of his element the sky, and the rewrite of his own story. Changing his and The Guardians' predetermined destiny of failure. A truly beautiful achievement which could only be accomplished by one who bucks the normal conventions of society in favor of following his heart’s own rhythm. 

The Second Keyblade war begins anew as Sora’s new found confidence is put to the test with him leading The Seven Guardians of Light against The Thirteen Seekers of Darkness. Earning their trust as he undoes his first loss in this journey by defeating the returning Demon Tide and gaining the blessing of those who fought in the previous Keyblade War through his willingness to face the Ultimate Heartless without hesitation.  

That last act in particular is exemplary of Sora’s character. By following his heart and doing what was right Sora earned the faith of countless strangers who wished to share their strength with him for no reason other than they believed in him. Sora has always received powers from others, believing at first it was because he lacked strength of his own, but by receiving the Lights of the Past he sees the exact opposite is true. It is Sora’s own strength which pulls others towards him and combines their powers into something wonderful.

  Ultimately Sora is the one who leads The Seven Guardians of Light to the war’s end. Paying his friends back for all the times they’ve saved him by rescuing them in their time of need either by helping them grasp victory from the jaws of defeat like with Riku and Mickey or by granting them reunion like with the SeaSalt Trio and wayFinder Trio. It is even through Sora’s new found belief in himself that he is capable of beating the other Xehanorts, overcoming those who were consumed by ego and earning the respect of the ones that lost their way. Finally bringing Sora face to face with Master Xehanort, representing the worst possible extreme of what Sora could become. 

Xehanort has had from the very beginning complete and total unwavering belief in himself but by walking on the road of darkness and isolation this faith turned to egomania. Xehanort refused to trust his heart in others, slowly but surely becoming consumed by his own ignorance until he believed he alone could fix the world. Xehanort sought to surround himself with copies of himself, never looking beyond his own reflection even as it fractured with every act of self indulgent pride. Though the reasons why were different, Xehanort had lost his sense of self just like Sora believing in a lie rather than his own heart. Perhaps because he stopped listening to his own heart it was left up to Sora to fulfill its true wishe. In the final battle of the Second Keyblade War Xehanort's bloated ego clashes with Sora’s super ego who through a refined understanding of the power of friendship and a new sense of self worth conquers the final Seeker of Darkness at his most powerful, overcoming the X-Blade with the physical manifestation of The Half-Pint Trio’s shared ideals, Trinity.

Ultimately Sora is given the final reward of his true arc, Not the X-Blade but the trust of Master Xehanort as he is named the old goat’s true successor through the exchanging of their ideals. Through the bequeathing of the X-Blade by Master Xehanort made Sora a true keyblade wielder.  

However, Sora’s story does not end there. Though he has passed every test handed to him, earned the faith of both friends and enemies alike, changed history, and achieved feats greater than any other keyblade wielder, Sora has yet to truly act for himself. Everything Sora has done in all his adventures was for the sake of others. Now that Sora knows his self worth he must do something in the name of his own wants and needs. He uses The Power of Waking one last time sacrificing both his existence and power to save Kairi and spend his last days with her. Though Sora has always acted in the best interest of others it would be a mistake to assume this journey began with selfless intentions. No Sora’s journey began with the selfish desire to save the women he loves and be her knight in shining armor. Sora’s journey began with him looking for Kairi and it ends with him finally finding her as he travels through the hearts of his friends to find her, helping them all out one last time as he bests their inner darkness.

Sora began this story as a dull and ordinary boy. He never really stopped being one, but that's okay because as long as you believe in yourself even the most ordinary of people can become heroes.   

[pasteilian]

About your YOTR au, i have some questions

1- What happens when Mikey, Raph and Donnie find out what nin did? What is their reaction?

2- How would you classify the power level of your characters, from strongest to weakest?

3- what do you intend for this au? Like, are you going to write it and post it somewhere, draw it in comics, or just leave it the way it is?

SKJSHSHSJSSJ your art is so friking delicious and beautiful!!!༼˵˃̶̀ɷ˂̶́˵༽ ෆ⃛

1 - I haven’t really come up with a downfall yet but since they view Nin as a mother it would be awful Raph would be hit the most because he has come to love Nin very much—mix that with him feeling responsible for letting that type of negativity get to Leo it would be a bad downfall

2. That’s hard to scale because their powers are so uniquely different ?? Mikey is the most magically strong he beats Raph without trouble however— Raph is physically stronger with his power and if Mikey came at him with just force Raph would win—while Donnie is not magically or physically stronger than he can build machinery that rivals both of them when it comes to the weakest power that is Leo who’s power is not for fighting but for healing and purifying things so I guess Leo would be considered the weakest.

3. I’m not very good at comics, but I do sometimes put out comic lores for YOTR i’ll probably never go in depth with the AU because I just don’t feel confident in my skills to tell a story  so I’ll probably just leave it as is with what I’m doing now putting out tidbits making animatics/animation with a side of comic lore :3

[brairslair]

FEEL BETTER? ˗ˏˋ P.B.P ´ˎ˗

“all you have to do is ask”

confident!peter parker x shy!gf!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

REQUESTED: no requests are open! fandoms: marvel, stranger things, harry potter (any era), scream

WARNINGS: fem reader, shit writing, established relationship, peter and reader are implied to be in college/uni, SMUT (18+), very little plot tbh, heavy praise kink, softdom!peter vibes, fingering (f!rec), very light nipple play, SUPER slight dacryphilia if u squint, peter is talkative, not proofread and written instead of sleeping, lmk if i missed smth!

A/N: is it 8am? yeah. did i just spend the last two hours writing this mess? also yeah. enjoy!

ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE 18+ remember to like, comment, and reblog to support my writing!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Six hours. That’s how long it’s been since you showed up at Peter’s front door. Six hours spent right next to him, talking to him, touching him, and yet you still find yourself longing for more. Even now as you sit between his legs, back to his chest, his hands kindly twisting at your hair, your thoughts have you squirming in your seat.

The two of you had set up this study date a few days back, anticipating the opportunity to spend time together (without sacrificing your grades). Unfortunately, you were having a hard time focusing on schoolwork.

No matter how much you tried to focus on your paper, you couldn’t stop your mind, and your eyes, from wandering. You caught yourself staring at how pretty his hands looked as he hurriedly wrote down equations, admiring how cute he looked sitting crisscross in his plaid pajama pants and science pun t-shirt, how his voice sounded just slightly deeper when he was concentrating, or how soft his lips look right now. You actually thought you were going to lose it when the praise “Good job, babe. This looks perfect!” fell casually from his lips while reading your completed assignment, sealing it with a kiss to your temple.

You felt like you were going insane, but the thing is, so was Peter. You hadn’t seen each other for nearly three weeks prior to this study date, outside of passing in the halls or a quick call before bed. Between you trying to prepare for a major presentation coming up and Peter’s multitude of responsibilities, neither of you had much energy, let alone time, left to spend on anything else.

Of course, you love everything about Peter, unconditionally. That includes his web-slinging alter ego. However, it can get a little frustrating having to go weeks on end without being able to hold a conversation with him. Especially when all people talk about is the amazing spider-man, listening to girls fawn over your boyfriend for hours a day, and feeling just as fangirl-ish. You found yourself daydreaming about him to pass the time, acting like a schoolgirl with a hopeless crush.

Seeing him again after so long with so little contact is like a wake up call for your senses. You'd been so buried in your studies that you didn’t even realize just how much you missed him until you knocked on his front door.

- “Are you okay?”

Your thoughts dissolve as Peter draws your attention back to the present. When you snap back to reality, you’re immediately reminded of what caused the spiral of daydreams to begin with. You can feel the warmth of his body behind yours, the contour of his toned chest pressing against your back. You feel your whole body heat up.

“Mhm, I’m great!” you squeak out, internally wincing at the shakiness in your voice. Your usually bright and vibrant tone is completely gone, replaced with something resembling more of a whisper than anything else.

Safe to say, Peter isn’t buying it.

His best guess is that you’re upset about something that happened today. Maybe stressed about the presentation you have coming up. He knows it sometimes takes you a while to open up, so for now, he decides to let it go. In an attempt to settle your mind, he slides a hand down your arm to lace his fingers through yours.

Unfortunately, it does the exact opposite. The innocent action leaves a trail of goosebumps behind and makes your breathing pattern pick up ever so slightly. You can only hope that Peter doesn't notice.

He does.

“Are you cold?”

You shake your head, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. “No, I’m alright.” Loosely translated, means I actually feel like I’m burning from the inside out.

“Do you not like the movie? We can change it if you want to watch something else.” he offers sweetly, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’ve been all spacey for the past half an hour.”

Your breath hitches, feeling like you’ve been caught red handed. Of course he would notice. He may be a little oblivious sometimes, but when it comes down to it, Peter knows you better than you know yourself.

“The movie’s fine.” You struggle a bit to formulate a response, feeling your whole body heat up like a furnace. To evade the silence, you stutter out a weak, “I was just… thinking?”

You immediately want to light yourself on fire, deciding the silence would have been better.

“Thinking about what?” he asks. Not prying, just curious. “Must be something pretty important. Your heart is beating a mile a minute.” He softly laughs at his own words, causing you to shrink into yourself. He’s not laughing at you, but it definitely feels that way.

You fidget with Peter’s fingers in your palm, eyes locking on the movie as nerves wrack through your body. “It’s nothing.” You speak so quietly, he’s thankful for his enhanced hearing.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” you can practically hear the concerned furrow in his brow as he brings your still interlaced hands to his lips, leaving feather-light kisses to each knuckle. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

His patient and caring nature never fails to make you fall more and more in love with him, if that’s even possible.

Then, as if you weren’t enough of a mess, what really does it is when Peter leaves the faintest kiss to the base of your neck. A gesture meant to signal patience and understanding towards your “anxiety” only causes your thighs to squeeze together against your will, and before you can think enough to stop it, an airy, barely audible whine escapes the back of your throat, so soft it could pass as a sigh to the average ear.

Nothing about Peter is average.

He stills against your skin, causing your eyes snap open in horror as the realization hits you. Manicured hands immediately cover your face to shield you from the embarrassment.

They don’t stay long as Peter wastes no time in reaching up to gently pry your hands away. You feel like you could burst into tears at any moment from the sheer shame and frustration.

“Hey, hey-”, he holds both hands gently, rubbing sweet circles to soothe you, “No need to be embarrassed. You can talk to me.”

You don’t move your gaze from your lap.

“Come on, beautiful. Look at me.” He asks so gently that you comply before you can even think otherwise. His eyes are soft and kind, looking at you with all the love in the world. He makes you feel safe.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about? Hm?”

You blink up at him owlishly, feeling like there would be a question mark floating over your head if you looked up.

“That’s why you were all spacey? You were thinking about me…” he leans his head down, lips grazing your collarbone, “kissing you?”

Your breath catches.

"Or, maybe..." your eyes are glued as he moves his hand from your hold, delicately trailing it down your stomach, past your hip, and slowly down to the inside of your thigh. So close to where you’ve needed him for the past three weeks. “-you were thinking about me touching you?”

Your heart rate picks up by a tenfold, and Peter can hear it hammering in your chest.

Waiting for a response, he’s met with nothing but your heavy breathing. He carefully digs his fingertips into the doughy flesh of your thigh. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to touch you?”

Another airy whimper tumbles from your lips, reluctantly nodding in response to his questions, needing him too badly to care about the shame you feel at your neediness.

Peter smiles, rewarding your response by trailing his sweet kisses up your neck, taking his time to feel you shiver under his touch. His warm lips finally reach the shell of your ear.

“All you have to do is ask.”

He resumes his attack on your neck, now bolder in his movements as he licks and bites and sucks at your skin, trying to find the spot that makes your eyes flutter shut.

Caught up in the feeling of his warm mouth against your skin, you don’t even notice as he hooks your ankles over his, slowly spreading your legs wider and wider, until your skirt rides up your legs.

Peter smiles against your skin when a shaky sigh reaches his ears, your hips bucking up in sync. He’s found it. Peter focuses all of his attention on that spot, nipping and sucking at it until you’re sure he’s going to leave a mark. The hand on your thigh squeezes gently every time you move your hips, and you have to chew on your lip to stop the mortifyingly desperate sounds from spilling out.

“Is this what you had in mind, baby?” the words rumble against your skin, sending a chill down your spine, “Is this what you needed?”

Your hips buck again at that, pouting with the hope that he takes the hint. You feel your body melt into him when his tongue darts out to soothe the fresh mark he’s left on your neck.

Of course, he does get the hint, but there’s no way he’s letting you off the hook that easily.

He inches his hand higher and higher up your thigh, slipping underneath the pretty little skirt he had bought for you as a gift a few months ago. You tense in anticipation.

“What is it?” amusement evident in his tone as he asks you. He loves that he gets to be the one that makes you this needy. “Come on, baby. Tell me.”

You almost sob in frustration, not wanting to say it out loud, but the ache between your legs is becoming unbearable.

His hand barely brushes against your panties, making your chest tighten as you suppress the urge to grind into it.

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

You can’t handle it any longer.

“Please!” You all-but shout, free hand grabbing at his arm, “Please touch me, Pete!” You cry out, already sounding wrecked and he hadn’t even really done anything yet.

Peter beams at how vocal he had gotten you, leaning his head further down to meet your lips for the first time since you got here all those hours ago. It felt like drinking water after being stranded in a desert for days. You missed the way his lips felt. The way they tasted. You crave more.

Then, he mutters two words against your lips that manage to make your hazy brain short circuit.

“Good girl.”

Your groans are pathetic, being swallowed by Peter’s tongue as he rocks his palm against you through your pretty pink panties.

He can’t help but laugh a little, giddy at the sounds spilling out of you at even the lightest touch of his hand.

“Is that better?” he asks, breaking away for air. “This what you've been daydreamin' about?” He already knows what you really want, he always does, but he wants to hear you say it one more time. Just one more confirmation and he’ll give you anything you need.

Now that your mind is so clouded with pleasure, you don’t give it a second thought. “More-” you can’t barely get out a sentence between mewls, “Please, Peter, I need more-”

Before you can say another word, he’s pushing your underwear aside. Your head falls limp against Peter’s shoulder as he gathers your slick, dragging it up to finally circle your puffy clit.

Without his mouth to drown them out, your moans flow freely from you, drowning out the long-forgotten movie playing in the distance. Peter goes back to kissing your neck, deciding to mark every area of your skin that he can reach.

“I’m sorry, baby.” he soothes, nipping at the skin right under your jaw, his own heartbeat jumping at every noise he pulls from you, “Bet you’ve been achey all day, huh?”

You nod your head, barely registering his words as pleasure rolls through your body.

He lets out an almost mocking “Aww, honey…” as you buck your hips against his fingers, “Been so patient for me, huh? Waiting all day for me to make you feel good?”

“Mhm” mixed with your pants, words tumble from your mouth without a single thought to how eager you sound, “Feels so- ohhh… sososo good-”

All you can think about is the way Peters rough fingertips feel absolutely euphoric as he swirls and flicks at your clit, and how his lips sear every inch of your skin, and how his scent and his warmth consumes and takes over every thought floating around in your blissed-out head.

“You sound so pretty-” he peppers hot kisses across your shoulder, “Making so many pretty sounds…”

Peter bends his legs a little, which in turn, bends yours. The move spreads you out just a little bit more, but its enough to send little shockwaves of pleasure through you, making you jolt and gasp at the feeling.

Peter loves the way you look when you get like this. Skin sticky with heat, eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open in bliss. He thinks you looks like a goddess.

Your moans start to sound more and more like a plea, hips grinding against Peter’s fingers subconsciously as you feel the heat slowly taking over. You need more.

“Peter, pleaseee-“

“Shh, It’s okay.” his fingers glide down to your entrance, coating themselves with slick, “I’ve got you, pretty girl.”

Your eyes practically roll into your skull as he slips two fingers inside of you with ease. The stretch feels incredible, and you can’t help but squeeze the hand that's still holding yours, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Oh my god-“

Peter kisses back up until he reaches your lips again, grinning as you can barely reciprocate. The gentle nature of his kiss makes your head spin and your core clench around his fingers.

“Doing so good for me, sweetheart.”

You feel your lashes begin to collect tears at the overwhelming feeling pulsing through you. This has been building up for weeks.

“Always so good for me.”

Achey little noises spill from your lips onto Peter’s, breathing labored and heaving as the only thought filling your head is Peter Peter Peter.

Then suddenly your mind goes completely blank, gasping back a choked moan as your body goes limp, jaw slacking against Peter’s deep kisses. Your whole body feels like it's buzzing with electricity, and your head feels static in the most amazing way.

Peter pulls back for a moment to watch your face scrunch up in ecstasy, as he rubs against your spot over and over and over again. “There she is.” he coos, admittedly a little proud of himself, and you’re too fucked out to pick up on the mocking tone. He watches in awe as you start to fall apart.

“Takin’ my fingers so well, baby.”

You start to clench tighter around him, using your free hand to grip his wrist like a vice. Peter goes back to kissing your open mouth, sucking and nipping at your bottom lip as you pulse and twitch under his touch.

Panting turns back into whimpers which turns into tears as Peter massages your walls just right, hitting all the right places and stretching you out sooo perfectly.

You can feel pressure building up rapidly in your stomach, back arching up as your body starts to shake from the intensity. Peter shifts so he can watch the way your hips chase his fingers and your chest heaves for air.

“You’re so close, sweetheart. You can do it.” he praises, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge, “Almost there-“

The knot keeps winding tighter and tighter, and whiny begs and pleads start to pour out of you. Lots of “Oh my god, Pete“ or “Please” and “So good-“

Hand over yours, Peter glides your intertwined hands up your body and over your arched ribcage. He slides your hands under your his t-shirt, using his thumb to push your smaller one back and forth over your peak, a long chant of mumbled Peter’s tumble from your kiss-bitten lips.

“I know, baby, I know.” he consoles you, copying the pouty tone of your voice, “Just feels too good, huh?”

You nod your head frantically, still not catching onto the the tease, only caring about chasing your release.

He presses his lips to your ear, “Waited so long for this, honey. You deserve to feel good.”

He pumps his fingers a little bit faster.

“Gonna make you feel so good-“

You start to grind your hips up again, gasping when his palm rubs against your clit with each thrust.

“Pete-” the knot is getting tighter, “Oh my god, Peter- I’m…“ and tighter, “I’m gonna-”

“Let go for me, babe.”

Thats all you needed for your vision to go white hot, mouth falling open with a silent scream as stars dance behind your eyelids.

“There ya go”

“Just like that, pretty girl”

“Let it all out, baby”

He peppers kisses on your burning skin and slows his movements as he works you through your high. As you come down from it, your body goes limp on top of him, a lazy smile stretching on your lips. Peter can’t help but smile too, chest swelling in satisfaction that he was the one who put that smile on your face.

You wince a little as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core, eyes following as he brings them up to his lips to clean them off.

“Feel better?” this time you can definitely hear the cockiness in his tone, smacking him weakly on the arm. “Shut up.”

You turn around just enough to kiss him. This time, it’s slow, and careful, and loving, and you have to pull away and bury your face in his chest to hide the lovesick look in your eyes. Both of you burst out giggling, and Peter can't stop himself from wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you as close as possible. He’s missed you more than you could possibly ever know.

As relaxation coats you like a warm, fuzzy blanket, you shift your weight to get comfortable.

“Ah, don’t-“

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, hissing at the sudden pressure and gripping your hips to keep you still. “Can't do that...”

Now it’s his turn to get flustered.

His face goes beet red as you jump up in confusion. When you look down, you notice a painful looking bulge in his jeans. Your stomach twists with the knowledge that you did that to him.

You weren’t the only one who’s been touch deprived.

“Oh! Sorry…” you giggle a little at the accidental stimulation, looking back up at Peter with a playful smile of your own. “Your turn!”

______________________________________________________________

part 2??

[thetriggeredhappy]

where i’m like, at, creatively

like what's my dealllllll

so i’ve noticed a pretty big uptick in new people around here lately and i wanted to cover a few bases since i’m realizing it’s been a pretty long time since i had a fireside chat with the room. this is for a few reasons - first of all, i don’tttttt like talking about myself! i feel like sometimes notes on what’s up with me and how i’m doing can come across as invitations to talk a lot about my personal life, and i’m not really here to get into it. i really do prefer the anonymity of the stuff i do here. not a ton of people i know in real life have any idea at all what i do creatively, and inversely not many people who know me for my writing or whatever know anything about my real life. love that separation! big fan of it! that’s why i go by the alias Trigger, don’t have very many mentions of any facet of my identity, my location, don’t even really have my general age listed (i’m an adult, that’s all i’m comfortable sharing). i’m not, uh. a very confident person i guess? but with that said, i’m fine with talking about broad strokes stuff, and with talking about the stuff i make. so let’s go over it!

i’m not really known on here for anything beyond my writing, but i actually do various different creative stuff. i make music, i draw, i paint, i know a few instruments, i sew and make props, i’m a chef (like. professionally. that’s my job in real life. like, i’m my boss and i just answer to the owner of the restaurant. i made my menu. we’re actually expanding it at the moment). my fanwork is definitely a passion of mine, i love doing character analysis and riffing with other people and collaborative work, that kind of thing, but i also do like. a lot of original work.

“I KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING DONT CANCEL TAKING SHOTS—“ i’m not. i’m fully not. taking shots is just gonna be well over 150k words by the end of it and i’m running the marathon, not the sprint. that’s gonna continue to publish slowly over time. that’s not where i’m going with this. i have an outline, i know the plot, i just have to write the scenes and paint the spaces between the bigger arc of it and figure out the points between A and Z, and that’s going to take a while. if that means that fic is done in fuckin 2030, so be it.

my problem here is twofold. first of all, i have what the doctors call “a chronic depressive disorder” and “the good old neurodivergence that means you’re a perfectionist and also incapable of starting things”. there’s a part of me that really wants to ‘just’ hammer out Taking Shots and wrap it all up and do the damn thing and wipe off my hands and take a bow or ten before i move on, but i’m aware that my internal motivation issues are going to make that task take an incredibly long time. the second part of the problem is that i’m going to feel intense guilt pretty much all of the time if i split my attention between an original work and the fanwork i’ve already started, because in my mind, i’d be doing a half-measure of both of them rather than a sufficiently good job of either.

i know that doesn’t make sense, probably because it doesn’t. but honestly, for a longass time, me wanting so bad to start making my original work A Thing I Do, yet feeling bad for not instead doing more of my fanwork (which i know people really enjoy), has just been putting the pole through the spokes of the wheels on both of those projects.

so i’m biting the bullet. fuckin’ whatever.

Taking Shots is going to continue to keep its irregular infrequent schedule - i generally write more Taking Shots whenever i get really really annoyed with myself that i haven’t written more Taking Shots. in the meantime, i’m also going to start making and posting more about my original work.

i’m making a comic.

it has a title, i’ve scripted a ton of it, i have the plot and characters and worldbuilding and development, i know how it begins and what happens and how it ends. i started working on the story and the world around 2016, and i’m pretty happy with it. it’s going to take years to make the entire thing, as it’s going to be hundreds of pages per arc and a number of arcs in totality, and i plan to post pages as i go, maybe individually, maybe in small batches. it’s a fantasy setting, what with the elfs ‘n legally distinct hobbitses ‘n shit, adventure comedy, character driven narrative. i’ve made a separate blog to house it, and here soon the plan is to start showing off what i’ve already got, whatever isn’t spoilers, break out the title and some of the pages. my plan, eventually (and i mean EVENTUALLY) is to open a patreon or whatever the thing is by the time i get there. i’d fuckin’ love to just, like, make art and stuff full time, but realistically, i do need to hold down a real job for a while, even assuming i can make a living on art. i don’t have anyone to support me financially, so that does need to come first.

my artfight victims and opponents (my beloved) have already met a bunch of the characters, and some of you who have been around for a while probably also know about them. it’s not a secret or anything. i just don’t want to lean on the crutch of like, building a brand and hype for characters before i make the media. i don’t like stuff like that. you’ll see it as you see it. i love talking about my process and thoughts while making things and about character writing, and i’m open to questions or conversations about the comic and the characters, but like, i’m probably not gonna open with “and here’s the plot outline”. that’s a lot.

i want to be transparent now rather than later that no matter what i do, including making a patreon (or whatever), fanwork of any kind won’t be housed there. this doesn’t mean i’m giving up my fan stuff or that it’s dropping down the list as a priority. that hat is being hung up someday, maybe, but Taking Shots ends either when i’ve written all of it or when i’m dead in the fucking ground. this is partially because of, y’know, legality, because you really aren’t allowed to profit off of fan writing in the same way you might on fanart or whatever, but even if i was legally allowed to i wouldn’t necessarily want to. i don’t like the idea of making any significant amount of money on fan content, i don’t ever want enjoying media to have monetary incentive for me. that sucks. fan stuff is an outlet for me and i don’t like the thought of profiting off of enthusiasm. that seems like it would get a little parasocial.

this is my main blog, i’m probably going to keep using it for fan stuff a lot, and most of my comic stuff is gonna go on the same blog as the actual pages, and i’ll probably make some kind of dedicated webpage for the comic as well, and at some point i’m gonna make an executive decision on where i want to host any q&a for the comic - probably here. i’m hoping that getting vocal about my original work stuff will help me, like… commit a little harder? i work on it way more frequently than my fan stuff, like it’s not even close, but there’s kind of this sense of “and it’ll happen someday”. maybe that someday could be, like, before the heat death of the universe. because it doesn’t need to take that long. i have so much done.

that’s the synopsis. if you’re interested in my music, that’s over here. i’m probably going to reblog some of the comic-related art onto here every once in a while, but i don’t plan on reblogging individual pages onto here or anything like that. thanks for the read! let me know what you guys think!

[ladymaria-blue]

Emergency Commissions!!! Please Don’t Ignore!!

Please open all images for better view of drawings

Hey all, Maria here!

My family and I (Me, my fiancé, our 3 month old, and my step daughter) are in desperate need of help and financial assistance because our landlord is not going to renew our lease in about a month and we need money to move. As a result of us not wanting to be homeless, I’m opening my commissions!

Feel free to dm me either here on Tumblr, on Twitter ‘@LadyMaria_Blue’ or my Discord ‘ladyymaria’ for more info or to request a commission. Sonic character commissions (Canon and/or OC) get 15% off total price while PFP size gets 20% off total price!

I accept Cashapp, Venmo and Paypal!

Won’t draw:

Excessive Gore (I’m not confident enough with it yet)

Hardcore NSFW (Soft and/or nudity is fine)

Fetish art

Spiders (Not including spider-like Pokemon and Muffet)

Even if you don’t want a commission or cannot help at all, sharing and signal boosting would be so very appreciated! Thank you so very much for reading! 🩷🩷🩷

[kckt88]

Breath Of Doubt.

Summary:

Cerelle Lannister arrives at the Red Keep and immediately sets her sights on Aemond, determined to have him at all costs.

Vaeryna of course is having none of it and unleashes her inner dragon, determined to protect her treasure.

Warning(s): Language, Pranks, Violence, Threats, Kissing, Incest, Voyeurism, Smut - Lactation Kink, Daddy Kink, P in V Sex.

Word Count: - 4242

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

GREENS WIN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

One Shot Take My Breath Away - Takes place six months after the birth of Aegar.

AEMOND X O.C

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @snh96, @immyowndefender,

“Gods this is boring” moaned Jaehaeryn.

“Boy, that’s enough” snapped Aemond as the golden horse drawn carriage came to a stop inside the yard.

“Sorry father” muttered Jaehaeryn, subtly moving closer to his mother.

“What’s she even coming here for anyway?” asked Rhaegar.

“Beats the shit out of me” said Vharla shrugging.

“Language” scolded Vaeryna.

“Oops” squeaked Vharla.

“He’s got a point you know-why is Cerelle Lannister coming here?” asked Aegon the Younger.

“Scouting for a husband” mused Jaehaera.

“Good luck, half of the single lords that frequent the Red Keep are wrinkly old cunts”.

“Daenerys” snapped Aemond.

“Apologise father” replied Daenerys her cheeks tinged pink.

“Oh, you have no idea how much this amuses me” breathed Aegon.

“Glad it amuses someone” snarked Aemond.

“Uncle Aegon is single, and he isn’t a wrinkly old cunt” exclaimed Saeryna.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you” said Aegon.

“Shouldn’t have favourites” mused Aerys.

“I don’t have favourites-but if I did it would absolutely be Saeryna” laughed Aegon.

“You are the King-stop acting like a buffoon” snapped Aemond.

“Oh, Aemond remove the stick from your arse and lighten up” replied Aegon.

“Uncle is brave-I’ve seen lesser men almost piss themselves in fear from the look that father is giving him right now” mused Rhaegar.

“All of you quieten down-“ urged Vaeryna,

As the door of the carriage opened, Aerys let out a little gasp as Cerelle emerged from the carriage, her jewelled hand extended to the attending squire.

Indeed, she was rather beautiful, her golden hair shining in the sun, her elegant slim figure swathed in rich red and gold fabric. Her blue eyes sparkling like the rarest of gems from Tarth.

“Lady Lannister welcome to Kings Landing, I hope your journey from Casterly Rock wasn’t too perilous” said Aegon politely as he held out his hand in greeting.

However, she bypassed greeting Aegon and made a beeline for Aemond.

“Rude” scoffed Vaeryna.

“Pleasure to meet you Prince Aemond, I’m Cerelle Lannister”.

“Errr, pleasure to meet you my lady” replied Aemond.

Cerelle Lannister's gaze swept across the crowded hall, where the flickering candlelight danced on polished armour and richly adorned gowns of other ladies in attendance.

The air buzzed with the murmurs of the guest courtiers as they revelled in the grandeur of the occasion, a feast held in celebration of some anniversary of the King.

Yet, amid the sea of faces, her eyes found him - Aemond, the enigmatic figure with flowing silver hair that cascaded down his shoulders like liquid moonlight.

Aemond moved with a graceful confidence, his every step commanding attention.

The scar over his face only heightened the allure, a testament to his bravery and resilience against the bastard strong boy who carved out his eye when they were children.

Cerelle's heart quickened as she took in the sharp features that radiated the ethereal beauty of old Valyria.

His presence was magnetic, drawing her towards him like a moth to flame.

Leather-clad and lithe, Aemond moved with the fluidity of a predator, his every movement deliberate and purposeful.

Cerelle couldn't help but be captivated by the way his attire accentuated the contours of his body, a display of strength and agility that hinted at a warrior's prowess.

Her breath caught as she observed the subtle play of muscles beneath the supple leather.

Cerelle's pulse quickened when she saw Aemond lean over and place a gentle kiss on the cheek of his wife.

Cerelle in her youth had heard of Vaeryna, the silver haired dragon who had sold herself to her enemies and married the man responsible for the deaths of her brother and father.

It often intrigued her, what sort of woman would do that, but then her reasons were made clear when it was revealed that her brother Aegon the Younger was still alive, despite the entirety of the realm believing he perished alongside his brothers in the gullet.

Cerelle actually admired Vaeryna for that, it showed her strength and determination, a true reflection of house Targaryen.

But upon seeing Aemond, Cerelle completely understood the unspoken reasons for Vaeryna’s motivations. She really couldn’t blame her for spreading her legs and birthing the prince’s many children.

His silver haired babes were a testament to Aemond’s virility and fertile seed and Cerelle couldn’t help but feel flustered at the thought of Aemond stuffing her with his cock and breeding her.

His wife should have been a deterrent, a signal to retreat from the allure of forbidden desire. However, Cerelle's determination burned brighter than ever.

Vaeryna, was a mere obstacle in Cerelle's pursuit. Their union did little to extinguish the flames of longing that now roared within her.

Cerelle's ambitions knew no bounds, and the thought of a marital bond meant nothing in the face of the irresistible connection she felt with Aemond.

Undeterred by the constraints of societal norms or the sanctity of marriage, Cerelle set her sights on Aemond with unwavering resolve.

The glint of determination in her eyes mirrored the gleam of silver that adorned Aemond's hair and no matter how much she admired Vaeryna her existence quickly became inconsequential in the grand tapestry of Cerelle's desires.

She planned to move through the courtly intrigues with a grace that masked her audacious intentions. Cerelle knew the art of subtlety, weaving a web of subtle glances and discreet encounters, all aimed at ensnaring Aemond's attention by any means necessary.

Cerelle Lannister observed silently as Aemond engaged in rigorous sword training session in the castle yard.

The sunbathed the training grounds in a warm glow, accentuating Aemond's silver hair and his lithe and powerful frame moving with a grace that only a seasoned warrior possessed, each motion deliberate and precise.

As Aemond practiced his swordplay with the oldest of his sons, beads of sweat formed on his brow, glistening like diamonds against his pale skin.

Cerelle's blue eyes followed the sinuous lines of his movements, appreciating the fluidity of his actions. The intensity of the training session accentuated the contours of his muscular physique, captivating Cerelle's attention with each powerful swing and deft manoeuvre.

Cerelle found herself entranced by the sight of Aemond's dedication to his craft.

 His focus was unwavering, and the sheen of sweat highlighted the exertion he poured into every strike.

Aemond's dedication to his training only heightened his allure in Cerelle's eyes, and an admiring smile played on her lips as she absorbed the captivating display.

The distant clang of swords echoed through the yard as Aemond sparred with his son. Cerelle couldn't help but admire the way he effortlessly dominated the practice, his movements a dance of skill and strength. A subtle sense of longing crept into Cerelle's gaze, and she marvelled at the allure of the warrior before her.

Aemond's silver hair caught the sunlight, creating a mesmerizing halo around him as he continued to hone his swordsmanship.

Cerelle, hidden in the shadows, allowed herself a moment to appreciate the beauty of the scene.

The contrast between the fierce determination etched on Aemond's face and the grace with which he moved stirred a potent cocktail of emotions within Cerelle.

As the training session progressed, Cerelle remained captivated by Aemond's every motion, savouring the sight of his athleticism, strength, and the sheen of sweat that clung to his form.

A subtle smile played on her lips, aware that the next time they spoke, the image of Aemond in the midst of his training would linger in her thoughts, fuelling a newfound admiration and perhaps sparking something more.

Vaeryna felt the subtle tension in the air whenever Cerelle Lannister was near.

The sly glances, the lingering touches, and the carefully chosen words—all seemed orchestrated to seduce her husband, Aemond.

Vaeryna was not blind to the game being played, and it fuelled a storm of emotions within her.

In the quiet moments of the night, Vaeryna found herself reflecting on the delicate balance of power within the social web of the court.

Ever ravenous for the whispers of scandal and salacious behaviours they could use for their own amusement.

Cerelle’s visit to the Red Keep was only meant to last a few weeks, but the visit had been extended in the hopes that Cerelle would be successful in finding herself a husband.

Technically she had been successful and had indeed found herself enamoured with a man who was no doubt the fantasy of most women that caught a glimpse of him, but he was married, and his wife was no slouch.

She was not only a dragon, but the daughter of Daemon Targaryen, whom she embodied not only in mind but in soul and every time she saw Cerelle giggling at Aemond or batting her eyelashes at him, she found her fingers itching to swipe the dagger from Aegon’s belt and skewer the nasty little tart with the pointy end.

However, Vaeryna tried very hard to restrain herself and maintained a calm and dignified facade but beneath the elegant exterior, Vaeryna harboured a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, jealousy, and a determination to shield what was rightfully hers.

Her children however were another story.

Saeryna had spent hours searching for spiders in the gardens only to release them in Cerelle’s chambers, her screams of terror echoing around the Red Keep as Saeryna smiled innocently.

Aerys worked in tandem with Jaehaeryn to swap Cerelle’s fancy bathing oils with stinky pond water and Caelee even helped herself to Cerelle’s pretty powders and used them to paint pictures for her Kepa (Father).

Vharla unstitched the seams of Cerelle's dresses which resulted in a rather embarrassing incident in the gardens with Cerelle being left red faced after her dress all but fell apart leaving her in nothing but her underclothes.

As it turned out Aegon was behind the entire thing, as he was advising the children on what to do and he took great pleasure in the chaos they were causing.

He had taken an instant dislike to Cerelle and was determined to see her suffer for her rudeness and blatently obvious disregard for Vaeryna who Aegon was absolutly NOT in love with.

Vaeryna of course pretended to be scandalised when Saeryna was caught putting worms in Cerelle’s hair, but it was rather endearing that her children had made some unspoken agreement with their uncle Aegon and united against Cerelle, determined to punish her for what she was doing, and it was amusing to see their sweet little faces a picture of pure innocence as they were scolded by Alicent for their behaviour.

The one thing Vaeryna was sure of was Aemond, her husband, was a man of unwavering loyalty and moral integrity.

She knew him well enough to trust in the strength of their bond, convinced that no external charms or temptations could sway him from their shared commitment.

Despite this confidence, the mere fact that Cerelle Lannister sought to weave her subtle web around Aemond was an insult that stung.

The insults were not in the fear of Aemond succumbing to Cerelle's charms, but rather in the audacity of the attempt itself.

It was a slight to their marriage, a challenge to the sanctity of their love, and an affront to the trust they had painstakingly built over the years.

Vaeryna found herself grappling with a mix of emotions—anger at Cerelle's audacious advances, frustration at the need to defend what should be unassailable, and a deep-seated hurt that someone would dare to undermine the sacred connection she shared with Aemond.

Ultimately her thirst for retribution eventually prevailed and she made a vow to herself that when the opportunity presented itself, she would deal with that horse haired slattern if it was the thing she ever did.

The Red Keep was ablaze with light and merriment as the realm gathered to celebrate King Aegon's name day. Banners of House Targaryen fluttered in the breeze, their green and gold scales catching the glow of countless torches that lined the courtyards and corridors.

The air was filled with the fragrant aroma of roasting meats, and the joyful sounds of laughter and music echoed through the throne room.

The throne room was adorned with elaborate tapestries depicting the storied history of House Targaryen. Long tables stretched across the room, groaning under the weight of lavish feasts prepared for the occasion. Golden chalices and plates adorned with dragon motifs sparkled under the soft candlelight, casting a warm and inviting glow.

Nobles from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms mingled with knights, lords, and ladies, all clad in their finest attire. The clinking of goblets and the melodic tunes of harps and lutes filled the air, creating an atmosphere of revelry befitting the celebration. Courtiers in richly coloured gowns and doublets danced gracefully to the music, adding a touch of elegance to the festivities.

In the centre of it all stood King Aegon, resplendent in regal attire befitting his station. His silver hair gleamed in the light, and the crown of the conqueror sat proudly atop his head.

Aegon received well-wishers and gifts with a gracious smile, acknowledging the love and loyalty of his subjects.

The people of the realm still buzzing from the spectacle of the jousting tournament that been held earlier in the day in honour of the king's name day, where knights in gleaming armour clashed with lances under the watchful eyes of the cheering crowd.

Of course, Aemond who claimed he didn’t give a shit about tourneys, entered and won.

Relishing in the cheers for his victory as he crowned his wife Vaeryna the queen of love and beauty. Her sweet smile as he placed the wreath of flowers upon her silver head and her gasp of surprise as he hauled her over the wooden fence and kissed her deeply in front of the realm was endearing for all too see.

Except for Cerelle of course who was seething with envy. Her attempts to tempt Aemond were proving fruitless, and his children with his silver haired bitch of a wife were monsters who needed hard lessons in discipline and the King was no better aiding those little shits in their pranks was truly poor form.

No, she needed to increase her efforts in tempting Aemond, she wanted him and by the gods she was determined to have him, so she donned her most daring dress and joined in the celebrations for the King’s name day.

“Are you really that dense brother-“ snarked Aegon as he took a large sip of wine.

“What are you bleating about now?” snapped Aemond.

“Cerelle Lannister-the lingering looks, the not so subtle touching of your arm when she's talking to you. Brother-your wife is seconds away from kicking the shit out of her and whilst I will shamelessly enjoy such a spectacle, I doubt her morbid cunt of a father would, so you might want to put a stop to whatever fascination Cerelle has with you before blood spills” replied Aegon.

“There is no-“

“You only lost one eye, surely you’re not that blind, the girl is desperate for your cock-“ muttered Aegon.

“Well, she can remain desperate-"

“Listen to your big brother-you’ve only bedded what two women?” said Aegon.

“Three actually”.

“Three? Who was-oh yeah Alys that old whore from Harrenhal, I forgot about her” said Aegon.

“Hm”

“Well, that’s beside the point-I’m more well versed in the ways of women than you are, and I can tell you now that there are some women who don’t take no for an answer and when they set their sights on something they will do whatever it takes to get it” replied Aegon.

“Are you saying that I’m in capable of defending myself against unwanted attention?” asked Aemond, feeling a little insulted over his brothers insinuation.

“In a word-yes I am. That Lannister bitch has had you in her sights since she first arrived here and whilst you remain blissfully unaware-your wife does not”.

“What has Vaeryna said?” questioned Aemond.

“It’s not what she’s said brother, it’s what she hasn’t. No woman ever wants to see another woman pawing at their husband” exclaimed Aegon.

“Do you think Vaeryna will do something?” mused Aemond as he looked over at his wife who was indeed glaring at Cerelle.

“You do know who your wife is right? Whilst Ryna might be a woman, she’s as fierce as any dragon that ever existed, and a dragon will protect what they consider to be theirs-if Cerelle continues playing with fire she’s going to get burned” warned Aegon.

"Oh, for the love of seven" uttered Aemond as he spotted Cerelle walking towards him.

“This isn’t going to end well” urged Aegon grimacing.

“Aemy-I had thought you would ask me to dance” giggled Cerelle.

“I’m not much of a dancer my lady” muttered Aemond.

“That’s not true-he dances often with Vaeryna-you know his wife” said Aegon through gritted teeth.

“Oh, Your Grace, a man may dance with others if he so wishes” said Cerelle her voice mockingly sweet, the underlaying meaning of her comment lingered in the air.

“Not this man” whispered Aemond as he tried to move away from Cerelle.

"Oh, just one dance my Prince" exclaimed Cerelle reaching for Aemond's hand.

"My lady I really must protest-" retorted Aemond moving his hand away from Cerelle's grasp.

"Just one dance-surely you won't begrudge a lady-"

"Oh shit-" muttered Aemond.

“-I bid you farewell Lady Lannister-it was nice knowing you” exclaimed Aegon raising his goblet in a mock toast as Vaeryna came up behind Cerelle and seized her by the hair, dragging her away from Aemond who couldn’t help the surge of arousal that shot through him at his wife’s possessive display.

The fierce determination in her amethyst eyes as she spun Cerelle around and slapped her hard across the face.

Her face twisted with fury as she stood over the shaking form of Cerelle.

“You even dare to approach my husband again and I’ll knock your teeth out-I’ll slit your throat from ear to ear-I’ll rip your fucking face off-AEMOND PUT ME DOWN“ screamed Vaeryna.

“Take it easy there Issa nēdenka zaldrīzes” Aemond as he wrapped his arms around Vaeryna and hauled her away from Cerelle (My fierce dragon).

"No-she laid hands on you; I won't have it-she dares to think that she can take what is MINE" snarled Vaeryna as she struggled against Aemond's grip.

"Nothing to see here-" urged Aegon waving his hands in the air, as he tried to stifle his laughter.

Aemond dragged a furious Vaeryna from the throne room and hauled her against the wall, his arms pinning her body against the cold stone wall.

"Calm down-" urged Aemond.

"Don't tell me to calm down-she's been pawing at you for weeks and I can't stand it any-"

Vaeryna gasped as Aemond surged forward and pressed his lips to hers in a brutal kiss.

“Do you trust me ābrazȳrys” asked Aemond (Wife).

“You know I do” replied Vaeryna breathlessly.

“In that case I may have an idea to stop Cerelle’s pursuit of me-so would you do me the honour of meeting me in the library in half an hour” said Aemond.

“Ok” muttered Vaeryna feeling a little uncertain.

“Don’t worry Issa gevie perzys. Just make sure to wear something less constricting” replied Aemond as he turned on his heel and walked away (My beautiful fire).

Cerelle stared down at the hastily scribbled note and smiled. Aemond had asked to see her, mayhaps he was going to apologise for his clearly deranged wife’s violent behaviour, or he had finally realised their connection and was ready to give in and reciprocate her affections.

Admittedly the library was an odd place to meet, but it didn’t matter.

The moment she had been waiting for was finally upon her and Cerelle was determined to enjoy every single second of it.

As she approached the ornate double wooden doors, Cerelle took a deep breath to steady her nerves before a guard wordlessly opened the doors for her.

The library was almost shrouded in complete darkness save for the few lit candles, giving it an almost eerie yet romantic glow.

“Aemond” called Cerelle.

But no answer came and after a few minutes, Cerelle’s attention was drawn to what sounded like a breathy moan coming from between the bookcases.

As she moved through the labyrinth of tall bookcases, the sounds of moaning grew louder.

Cerelle stood stunned as she spotted Aemond, half naked with his breeches sitting low on his hips, his head pressed into his wife’s neck as he pounded into her.

“N-Nothing and no one compares to you” growled Aemond bracing his hand on the bookshelf as he brutally snapped his against Vaeryna’s.

He was so deep inside her that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

“Aemond” gasped Vaeryna her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it ābrazȳrys, take every fucking inch of me-let me fill your sweet cunt” (Wife).

“Oh, please Valzȳrys. I want it. I want all of you” moaned Vaeryna (Husband).

“FUCK” roared Aemond as he hauled Vaeryna away from the bookcase and placed her the edge of a desk.

“Yes-Yes Aemond, Oh gods” breathed Vaeryna.

“I fucking love you-I love you so much” growled Aemond his eye finding its way to Cerelle who shivered as he smirked at her, the sapphire nestled in his eye socket glinting in the candlelight.

Aemond continued to stare at Cerelle as he mercilessly fucked his wife, filling her over and over again with sharp penetrating thrusts.

The muscles of his chest and abdomen flexing as he moved with a brutality that Cerelle had never seen before.

“Aemond-yes, right there. Don’t stop-don’t stop” cried Vaeryna the tears running down her pale cheeks.

“That’s it Issa jorrāelagon. Come on daddy’s cock” rasped Aemond (My love).

Cerelle couldn’t help the flare of arousal that shot between her thighs when Aemond lurched forward and wrapped his lips around one of his wife’s erect nipples.

Suckling greedily and he reached down and began expertly circling her pearl with his long fingers.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaeryna her entire body seizing before going slack and pliant.

“FUCK-I’m going to come-“ groaned Aemond.

“I want it-fill me with your seed Issa dārys” gasped Vaeryna (My King).

“FUUUUUCK” roared Aemond, his head thrown back as his rope after rope of his seed spilled inside his wife’s cunny.

“Aemond” breathed Vaeryna as her husband collapsed on top of her.

“I love you so much-“ replied Aemond.

“-And I love you” whispered Vaeryna.

“I never want you to doubt my love, no one will ever compare to you-my soul mate”.

“Issa idañnykeā perzys” muttered Vaeryna (My twin flame).

“I see that our observer has fled” said Aemond staring at the vacant space that Cerelle had occupied mere moments ago.

“Husband” breathed Vaeryna as she slid her hands into his long silver hair and pulled his face towards hers.

“Wife” replied Aemond as he pressed a kiss to her soft lips.

Vaeryna gasped as felt her husbands cock hardening inside her.

“I think I need to have you again” moaned Aemond as he withdrew his cock from his wife’s cunny until only his tip remained and then thrust forward again.

“You may have me as many times as you desire my love” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“Hm-” sighed Aemond his tongue licking at the seam of Vaeryna’s lips.

His plan had worked perfectly, Cerelle wouldn’t be a problem anymore. She had seen for herself the passion and love that Aemond and Vaeryna had for one another, what a silly lion she was to even think that she could come between two dragons.

As they watched the golden carriage depart the Red Keep, Vaeryna couldn’t help but notice the sly smiles plastered across Aegon and Saeryna’s faces.

“-And what are you two so happy about?” asked Vaeryna.

“We may or may not have left a little going away present in the carriage for the Lady Lannister” said Aegon shrugging.

“Dare I ask-“ mused Vaeryna as a loud shriek echoed across the courtyard.

“I guess she found the slugs” laughed Aegon.

“Or the maggots” replied Saeryna.

“I thought we agreed on slugs-where did you get the maggots from?” asked Aegon as he lifted Saeryna into his arms.

“Found them in the Maester’s room and then I put some in a jug and poured them in a cushion in the carriage” replied Saeryna.

“A-A cushion” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“Don’t worry mama. I left the zippy part open” shrugged Saeryna.

“Gods I love this kid” laughed Aegon.

“I thought I was being nice leaving her presents, not my fault she doesn’t like them”.

“Spoilt bitch” muttered Aegon as Saeryna nodded quickly.

“I’m not going to get into trouble am I mama?”

“No, my sweet you’re not. In fact, I must insist that you receive a reward, how about a new doll or a new dress. Perhaps both?” said Vaeryna smiling.

Saeryna giggled sweetly and pressed her face into Aegon’s neck.

“You know I pity the fool who dares try to court this little one when she’s of age” said Aegon.

“You and me both”

“Is everything ok?” asked Aemond curiously.

“Everything is perfect my love” replied Vaeryna as she took her husband’s hand and headed back inside the Red Keep.

As Vaeryna gave one last fleeting towards the golden carriage moving rapidly away from the Red Keep, she couldn’t help but wonder if Cerelle would ever dare show her face again.

Probably not if her children had anything to with it. What treasures they were.

All eight of them, mayhaps even nine as the moontea Vaeryna had requested that morning had remained untouched in her chambers.