#NEEDED to draw her slaying a dragon

[formulanni]

Dragon Slayer

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls

[hauntingblue]

I have connected two dots... yamato kaido and momo (and kinda shirahoshi with her top) have clouds above their shoulders... and luffy in gear fourth has them also.... I can see the signs

[the-halfling-prince]

my headcanon for older (like teenage) Zephyr Haddock's appearance :)

[dolicekiss]

From Friend To Foe

PAIRING: Dark!Aemond Targaryen X Strong!fem!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni), noncon, virgin!reader, possessive aemond, friends to enemies, childhood friends, reader is from house strong, dragon riding (also riding Aemond), unprotected sex (p in v), forced kissing, breeding, angst, threats, humiliation, reader has dark hair, hair pulling, slapping, cunnilingus, mention of forced marriage, attempted murder.

SYNOPSIS: Aemond and you were childhood friends, you being the daughter of a lord and him being the Targayen prince. When the Greens and Blacks went against each other, your father’s sworn fealty to the blacks became an obstacle in your friendship and when your father was defeated, army overthrown — you were taken prisoner, kneeled before the Targaryen prince who was once your closest friend.

Swords clashed, dragon roared and knights fell after fighting bravely.

All you could do was sit idle in your room and await the promise of a better future. Only it did not come and when silence haunted the grounds of Harrenhal and everything came to a halt, you were certain your family had lost the fight.

You were mere humans, with no possession of such an almighty being.

Dragons were Gods. To be worshiped and prayed — and one was prominently flying over the remains of Harrenhal.

Belonging to none other than Aemond Targaryen, who was once your beloved friend with whom you dreamt of riding on a dragon.

Aemond had promised you when you were younglings. A promise that once he has claimed himself a dragon, you would be the first person he'd take for a flight.

The irony of the situation broke your heart.

The same dragon had left your castle and people in ruins — Vhagar’s loud wails filling up the sky with terror. You knew very well that now your army had fallen, your father definitely slain, you were going to face the same fate as many women during war did.

A prisoner, meat for Aemond’s men.

The door was slammed open and you turned around in a swift motion, finding your servant standing there. A look of horror adorning her once serene features. “It is done. The Targaryen prince has won and we are the only ones left.”

Tears blurred your vision. You did not remember reaching for the sharp blade which you had placed on your side table, an escape from all the atrocities you would eventually be forced to face by the hands of your own closest friend.

War was war.

And with the stories of Aemond’s cruelty circulating about, you knew very well than to beg for mercy or even expect it. Long gone was the sweet prince who made you promises of protection, a dragon and long lasting friendship.

He was your foe now.

An enemy who had slayed the men of your house, your own blood.

As you attempted to cut your own throat, a hand prevented you from doing so. Guards, of house Targaryen. Your face paled and your tears finally rushed down your face in glossy streaks, your one chance of escape taken from you.

The men restrained you but you screamed, struggled even. To break free and somehow draw the blade closer to your throat, only a small cut and you would disappear. You did not care if this was considered weak, you were willing to do just about anything to keep your dignity and honor.

To not be some slave for a man to put his cock in.

“Stay still, woman!” One of the guards berated you but you didn't listen, worming in their grasp.

“Let me go! Release me, right now.” Your screams echoed in the expanse of your chamber as well as the castle and Aemond heard them too.

He had ordered the demise of everyone, everyone besides you. There was this ache, this need to lay his eye upon you for the first time in awhile. Last time he saw you when you were nine, a beautiful little girl who often came to the red keep with her father — member of the council.

Aemond and your friendship flourished when you defended him against Aegon, comforting him to not lose all hope for a dragon. It was you who encouraged him, who provided him with the mental strength to claim Vhagar.

Your words of strength lingered in the back of his mind when he took claim of the largest dragon.

And now he had caused destruction with the same dragon.

Fate had brought you both to this. Ruined every good thing which was left in his life and he knew that you would never, ever forgive him for destroying your home.

You were kind, loving, sweet. Rebellious too but always stood your ground and believed in achieving justice, by any means. Aemond wondered how you'd grown, how you appeared as an adult now.

Did you braid your dark hair the same way as his Targaryen sister did, since you'd grown so fond of their silver hair? Were your eyes still the same onyx dark as your hair, a stark contrast to his own purple ones and was your choice in clothes still so dreadful? Curiosity pinched at his abdomen.

Your screams boomed through Harrenhal and Aemond felt proud of your resistance, only he had no knowledge of what you were resisting for so prominently.

He had no idea all your desperation and fight was to end your life.

The guards pulled you apart, their blood stained hands managing to rip off the side of your dress which concealed your shoulder during all the commotion to get you to release the blade. You somehow managed to free yourself from one of the guard’s unbearable grip and slashed his face with the blade.

“Ah, you fucking bitch.” He screamed, holding his face with one hand while the other tried to reach for you.

Another guard extracted his revenge, striking you across your face and tugging at the already torn fabric, exposing more of your back.

Your face contorted in pain, wishing to rid yourself off this world. “Don't fucking touch me. Unhand me and I will slaughter you lot like pigs.”

Your threats were larger than your size and some guards found you amusing while some knew you were capable of what you had promised them. A hand reached for your wrist, to tame it but not being able to pry open your clingy fingers around the dagger with all their strength.

Your fingers had paled, losing all their pink hue and the blood had stopped pumping through the small veins. That was how strong your grip around the weapon was.

Being carried down the stairs, your gaze took in the sight of the place that was once your home. Broken and hopeless, you were dragged along to the main hall. Rain pattered over the stones, causing a nauseating feeling in your stomach as you took in the situation of your castle.

Thankfully, your blurry vision did not allow you to take more of the destruction. All you noticed was the daunting figure of your enemy, standing pridefully at the center of the hall, awaiting your arrival.

You were pushed towards someone, forced on your knees and the silky silver strands gave away at the person's identity. Prince Aemond Targaryen stood before you, with his back turned to you and hands clasped behind his back.

You attempted to gather the pieces of your torn dress, holding it over your chest since it was ripped evidently in the back. Aemond upon turning around, did not expect you to be in such ruins. Dress torn apart, dark hair all but a mess and he caught glimpse of the silver rings encircled around your strands.

Now in a complete frenzy.

The same silver you always wore in your hair, around your little braids.

Aemond glanced up at his guards and then back at you, watching you. Demeanor phlegmatic, lips sitting tediously on his face.

You didn't dare to lift up your eyes. It wasn't about possessing enough courage to look him in the eye but having no self control. You knew deep down if you looked at him, you'd lose all control and attack him.

“I don't recall ordering you lot to bring her in such a..” Aemond tilted his head, analyzing the state you were in. “disheveled state.”

“She fought back a lot, my Prince. Intended to cut her throat with that little blade of hers in her hand.” Aemond was slightly taken aback from the revelation but you were right to choose that as an option. Everyone in this room knew what happened to women during war, especially the beautiful ones such as yourself.

The highborns were craved more as they carried noble blood within them.

His one eye fell upon the blade you still held with great vigor in your hand and Aemond nearly snickered. You had not let go of that adamant personality of yours, carrying it with you in adulthood.

Aemond did not like how your beautiful skin was exposed to the lecherous eyes of his guards. This abrupt jealousy even left him bemused for a moment, nonetheless he diverted his attention back to you.

He stepped closer — frame towering over yours and you saw the perfect moment to attack him. A feeble and thoughtless action but it was either succumbing to horrors or extracting revenge. In a fraction of mere seconds, you had risen up from your knees and headed for him with the pointy end of the dagger in his direction.

The guards reached for you and before you could possibly injure the Prince regent, his fingers enveloped your wrist. With potent strength and fast reflexes, Aemond held you in place. A mischievous glint flashed in his one good eye, lips curving up in a malicious smirk.

He saw the raw hatred and hunger for revenge in your eyes — your hand unwavering and stable. You meant the attack. Nowhere was it under the sad emotions of losing your family.

“Bold of you to assume this would work on me, Dōna.” Aemond whispered, face only a few inches apart from yours. Only the dagger separating you. You acknowledged the name he'd called you, from when you were children and the anger inside you was fuelled more. (Sweet)

“Have I not trained in front of you, hm? Did you not see me wield a sword whenever you stayed in the red keep?”

You glared at him. “I will kill you, either with poison or with a dagger. It is my promise to you, tyrant.”

“From raqiros to tyrant? You truly have grown, my Dōna.” He whispered malevolently, his warm breath with its own mind caressing the bridge of your nose, nearly with affectionate. (Friend)

Having spent most of your childhood in the red keep with the targaryens, especially Aemond, he was bound to teach you some high valyrian. You knew what raqiros meant, but he had never unveiled the meaning behind the nickname he gave you. Promising you he would once you two are grown enough.

Aemond looked up from your face to his men who stood on guard. Three of them, big and broad. His eyes raked over their hands and as he imagined those same hands mishandling you, ripping away at your clothes and prying open the corset which held your dress together, his jaw clenched.

“Ser Criston Cole,” he called out and the commander responded, head held high.

Aemond’s hand still prevented you from moving an inch, the pointy end of the dagger only a few inches away from his glistening, pale cheek.

“Behead them.” It was a simple command but it instilled fear in everyone in the room, including you. Even the commander was surprised by such a gruesome order and dared to ask. “Forgive me, my Prince but why?”

Aemond locked gaze with you. “They dared to lay hands on my prize, unveiled her dignity.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the Commander nodded, passing the order to his other guards. You heard the sounds of constant struggle, similar to yours as their pleas to live fell upon deaf ears.

“My Prince, please! Spare us, we were only acting upon your order!”

They were ignored, as Aemond continued to stare at you. His purple eye dropping to your lips for a second. He released you and you, on instinct, stepped back with the dagger still in your hand. It was proven that combat was definitely not how you could take down the prince.

Aemond had forced you to come along to the premises of Harrenhal, where his dragon rested. Strained and tired from the war she had indulged in. You had never seen Vhagar up close but knew that she was the second largest dragon, her first rider being Visenya Targaryen.

Your lips shuddered the more closer you were pulled next to the sleeping dragon.

“She can smell fear.” Aemond reminded you, staring ahead. “Conceal it unless you wish to burn to ashes.”

You inhaled a deep breath, closing your eyes and hoping to put an end to the growing fear in the presence of Vhagar.

When you opened your eyes, you were more calm now and in the right state of mind to admire the beast’s beauty. She was gorgeous, a shade of bronze mixed with green and blue highlights. Green, fierce eyes staring ahead and you would have congratulated Aemond on claiming a dragon if only the circumstances were different.

“You will ride with me to King’s Landing.”

“I will not.” You spat, taking a step back from him. That didn't seem to please Aemond as he closed the distance between you and grasped your arm, holding you in place. “Yes, you will.”

“I would rather be fed to your hounds than ride with you upon the back of the dragon which destroyed my home.” Your tone was venomous, full of anger and spite. Aemond knew there was no way calming you down or ridding you of your anger, so he did the next best thing that came to mind.

His slim hands slithered across your waist as he picked you up, settling you down on the dragon’s back. Vhagar released a roar and Aemond whispered something to her in high valyrian, causing her to calm down. Her head settling down, to rest.

He moved in front of you, taking a seat as well. “Hold on tight.”

You glued your hands to your sides, completely ignoring him. Aemond released a frustrated growl at your adamant behavior and lack of pliancy. He reached behind to grab your arms with his gloved hands, forcefully circling them around his small waist.

“Let go of me.” You struggled and Aemond looked back at you with irritation all over his beautiful face. “Do you wish to succumb to your death by falling? If so, feel free to let go.”

That was a lie as Aemond had already tied you to him with the brown belt — locking you with him. Even if you were to let go of him, his body weight restricted on his dragon would prevent you from falling and eventually meeting your demise. This was merely to get you to touch him.

To feel you against him, with little to no distance.

Your lips settled in a frown as you tightened your hold around him causing Aemond to grin. He patted his dragon’s back and then spoke. “Sōvēs, Vhagar.” (Fly)

The dragon shifted on its legs, preparing for the flight and you gasped when you felt it move more beneath you. Subconsciously, your fingers gripped the leather tunic of Aemond, chest pressing tightly over his broad back. Terror filled you as the dragon finally took flight, its huge wings flapping and the force of it made you realize how easy it must have been for Aemond to ruin your house.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, closing your lids shut and burying your face in Aemond’s shoulders.

This is exactly how he had anticipated your first ride on a dragon with him all these years, how you'd react to the beast moving and roaring. Your subtle touches, adorable reactions and soft sounds were just as Aemond had pictured them in his mind.

And he was fulfilling his promise to you.

Until now, Aemond never allowed anyone to ride with him. Only you were the exception and as gruesome the enmity between the two of you was, he could not simply suppress the overwhelming feelings he'd always harbored.

“Aemond..” You whispered, as the dragon took flight and it left you screaming. “Aemond! I'm fucking terrified.”

One hand holding onto his seat, the other reached over and settled on your hand around his chest. In an attempt to comfort you as Vhagar flew into the depths of the sky, Harrenhal nothing but a small scenery when you opened your eyes to look down at it.

A lone tear slid down your face.

This was not how you wished to ride with Aemond.

You hated him, disgust all over your face when you noticed how little and inferior everything appeared from up here. No wonder the Targaryens burned people and houses, as they felt superior being this close to Gods than the rest of you.

“Calm down, Dōna.” He said to you when his dragon had finally flew for King’s Landing.

You didn't say anything, only loosened your hold around him after realizing how awfully close were you to him.

Aemond noticed that and didn't like it.

“Vēzot, Vhagar. Vēzot.” Upon hearing Aemond’s command, the dragon changed route and flew high up in the air, going up tearing through the grey clouds. In fear of falling, your arms once again found themselves around the dragon rider’s small waist. (Up)

You had no idea what Aemond had said but it made his dragon fly up, defying gravity and leaving you gasping for air.

With a satisfied smile on his face, Aemond relished in the feeling of power he had over you and the power he'll soon have over others too. It was painfully evident his brother was incompetent and if something were to befall him, it would be Aemond next in line to inherit the throne.

Never did you ever think or expect that you would be brought back to the red keep as a prize, a symbol of victory — a slave most definitely for Aemond after how he behaved last time with the guards last time. He did not allow anyone to look at you, to touch you, besides your maidens who helped you doll up for the Prince.

His possessiveness was very well known to you when you both were children but you had expected him to grow out of it. How foolish of you to assume that.

Aemond was a possessive child. You recalled the time where he had forbade his siblings from playing with you — or when he did not let anyone touch his sword or even wield it. You remembered how the future lord of Casterly Rock was treated only because he had dared to pass a compliment to Aemond’s sword.

You could hear the cheers of the smallfolk and it disgusted you. He only won against you and your family, not the Blacks. It repulsed you how he was supporting a usurper and not the rightful heir. Your father died for the cause of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you would do too in a heartbeat.

You were lead inside the Red keep after the notorious flight with Aemond. The Prince’s orders were to his servants were to lead you to his own chambers and clean you up. You had no idea why, but you were not going to comply easily.

“I am not your mistress.” Your voice boomed loudly in the main hall, causing Aemond’s footsteps to come to a halt. “Neither am I your whore. Kill me because I too support Rhaenyra Targaryen’s claim to the throne. I shall die a honorable death as my father and kin did.”

You had dared to speak to him, like that, in the presence of not only the Queen but even the other council members.

Aemond’s hands balled up into fits. “Take her.”

You were forcefully dragged somewhere while you struggled, piercing screams enough to damage one's ears. Before you were pulled in a corridor, you made a promise. “I will get my revenge, Aemond Targaryen. You shall answer for the blood of my family that stains your hands. I will never forgive you!”

Alicent followed her son, your threats still lingering in her mind. You had screamed them with tremendous agony and will. She worried, for the kingdom.

“Do you believe you would be doing the realm anything good by bringing a blood thirsty enemy here?” Alicent questioned as she followed Aemond into the room where the council took place.

His fists shook, with poorly tamed rage. “She is anything but a weak girl.”

Alicent scoffed. “She is openly screaming threats. Either a fool would do that or a person who has got absolutely nothing to lose, Aemond.”

“Her screams will quiet down once I have managed to put a child in her.” Aemond spat at his mother, placing his sword down on the table.

She was appalled at what her son had evolved into. The monster he'd become and somewhere she doubted her own motherly skills.

You were forced into a beautiful, pale dress – the fabric as thin as a sheer curtain – after your bath. The maids obviously did not provide you with anything which could conceal your body in the see through white dress. It had embroidery done on the front, so it somewhat worked to cover your breasts.

But the longer it extended, the more it revealed everything underneath.

Pieces of your wavy dark hair were pinned behind, some braided with silver rings clipped around.

The maids soon excused themselves, leaving you to your solitude. Your body felt cold from the lack of clothes so you moved over to stand before the fireplace. Arms sliding up and down your frame to warm up yourself.

Truth to be told, you were suffering with trepidation. Were you prepared to sleep, to head to bed? But why in Aemond’s chambers? All sorts of vile and impure thoughts came rushing in your mind as you tried to keep them at bay.

The doors were soon opened and there stood Aemond, in a different set of clothes. You immediately stepped back, albeit him standing far away from you. He noticed that but no matter how many walls you tried to build between you two, Aemond was determined to break and crush each and every one of those.

He appeared enamored with you.

You were nothing less than an angel, standing underneath the moonlight illuminating your frame.

“Is this what you brought me here for, Prince Regent? To dress me up and warm your bed late at night?” You questioned with disgust and Aemond stepped froward.

You immediately retreated. “Do not dare to come any closer. I will not be one of your whores.”

“What makes you think I would let you become one of my whores?” Aemond asked with a soft tone. Your beauty had soothed all his irritation but it also ignited a fire within his core.

“You're a monster.” You whispered. “You have become a tyrant, a beast worse than those dragons of yours. It is a pity.”

Aemond was losing his patience with you. He didn't waste time, snapping and running towards you. The man pinned you against the wall, knocking over a vase resting on a table besides you. Pain bloomed in your back from the hardness of the wall — and being slammed into it.

The targaryen man locked eyes with you and let out a smile of satisfaction, witnessing the fear swimming in your innocent gaze. “Pity? You dare pity me when you are left with nothing of your house, nothing.”

The cruel reminder caused tears to well up in your eyes but your gaze stayed locked with Aemond’s. It did not waver and with all your strength, you pushed him away from you.

“I hate you.” You confessed, tears sliding down your face, a testament to the pain you were battling. “You were my friend, my fucking friend. How could you do this to me, to me? Your fucking Dōna, Aemond.”

When he heard the high valyrian word escape your lips, he growled. You saw him take a step further and this time decided to make a run for the door, trying to crawl over the bed hastily but Aemond was fast, vigilant as he grabbed you.

You fought back, slapping and punching him but it didn't work at all. He shoved his lips against yours and he did not care that you didn't want this. He wanted it, that was all that mattered. Aemond’s tongue forcefully entered your mouth as your hands continuously punched his chest.

He pushed you down on the both whilst staying locked to you, tasting your plump lips with vigor.

Head tilted, he pushed open your thighs and buried his knee between them. Rutting it against your cunt and you released a muffled cry in the liplock, hoping he would show some mercy but Aemond was too far gone.

The pressure on your clit – sheer fabric the cause of you and Aemond’s separation – was intense. A burgeoning need lighting up in your core as you struggled. There was no way you would give in, no matter how much you had admired him when you both were children. You knew better. You were only the daughter of some lord, meanwhile he was the Prince.

The fight for dominance was already won by Aemond as his tongue explored the inside of your sweet flesh. He broke apart from you to gaze upon you, a mess he'd turned you into. Face flushed, lips swollen and bloodied from how harshly he had sunk his canines into them.

Your dark hair with glinting silver in pure disarray, spread about everywhere on the bed. Aemond was fucking drunk and there was no stopping him.

“You said I'm a monster, right?” His voice was eerily low, causing you to panic. “I shall show you what monstrosity I am capable of.”

He tore the dress in a single tug, discarding the two pieces somewhere on the ground. Fear evident in your enlarged eyes as you struggled to conceal yourself with your arms but Aemond held them above your head, his fingers roughly pressing into your skin leaving marks.

“Aemond, please.” Tears fell and Aemond nearly softened.

If you'd been kind to him like how you were in the past, this compromising situation wouldn't have fallen you. He would've let you live, be a maid in the red keep but now, he had to prove it to you.

Just what he was capable of.

“Aemond,” you sweetly called out, hoping it would work. “My prince, don't do this. You do not wish to do this.”

“Too late for that sweet tone, my lady. If you do not wish for worse, I suggest you shut your goddamn mouth and take it.” His voice was so soft, so low but his words were as repulsive and cruel. It was what Aemond had become. A broken boy who sought out solace but was too afraid to ask for it, fearful of seeming weak — yet again becoming a target of his brother’s constant bullying.

In the process of becoming what he hated, Aemond lost you too.

One eye raked over your exposed breasts, full and round. You were no longer the little girl who used to chase him around the red keep, in her long dresses. You had flourished, flowered with grown tits and when his eye fell lower, he inhaled sharply. Plush, meaty thighs greeted them. He recalled how at one point you were as skinny as a boy, with no fat to your lean frame.

Now you had blossomed in a beautiful woman.

Your skin glowed neath the moonlight, your presence basking in its light. It showcased all the little minorities your features carried, what you had become, the delicate beauty that you were.

“You are certainly no little girl no more.” He reminded you, words no less than salt over your sounds.

Tears pearled on your waterline. “And you've grown into a fine man yourself.”

Your words were carried on obvious pain and Aemond pretended he did not catch a whiff of that. You continued, with a wavering voice, drained from all your rebellion and fight. “Fine but cruel, Aemond. I thought you were different, ought to be different. You proved me wrong.”

“Keep your lips sealed.” Aemond commanded, as your words nearly made his will to defile you falter. Being the daughter of a high lord, he was certain your maidenhead was still intact. You were never the type to engage in lecherous actions before the pure promise of a marriage.

Aemond’s rough hands took a handful of your breasts, fondling the fat. Thumbs swiping over your peebles, sending them upright. Undeniable pleasure shot through your body in the form of swarming heat as it settled in your lower stomach. A prominent gasp tore from your parted, swollen lips as Aemond stared at you in adoration.

“They are so full.” His comment about your body your pleasure-clad face form into one of grimace. “I wonder how your cunt looks now that you are older. You were always too innocent to consider our friendship anything more than what it was.”

Your back arched off the bed, the writhing of your hips increasing whenever Aemond rubbed his knee over your tiny pearl. You felt it swell up with need and wanton, a dull ache growing, begging to be burned out. The silver haired male pried your thighs open to lay eye on your pink cunt.

Aemond licked a wet tongue over his lips, his hunger to taste your seemingly delicious core pressing at him. He never once got overwhelmed with the urge to put his mouth on a woman's cunt — as the woman he got involved with whores. He had no interest in tasting something where most men found solace in.

But you were a virgin.

He knew that.

Yet he asked, surely to rile you up. “Has anyone been inside of you yet?”

Your eyes widened at the repulsive question of his. Brows scrunching in disgust and the rosette on your cheeks transcending into beetroot. Before you could control your imminent action, a strike echoed in the chambers. Tears had stalled, replaced with a hateful searing look and when Aemond recovered from the slap and faced you, chills enveloped you. Despite the impact, he was still poised. Eyes sheened with darkness and pure rage, his hand moved to reciprocate the harsh movement.

Only his slap hurt more — a scorching sensation awakening below your skin. A hint of red in the form of a hand imprinted on your face.

“Answer my question.”

You shook your head. Not only had the slap worked wonders to make you more pliant, it also made you realize that what Aemond was capable of.

His fingers ran along the line of your plumped up lips. “Use this pretty mouth of yours.”

“I'm not a low born.” You said through gritted teeth. “I'm chaste. Check for yourself if you are disbelieving of me.”

Aemond let out a scoff, fingers dimpling into your cheeks. The angry pout on your lips along with his hand print left behind on your cheek made you look ten times more endearing to him. “That I plan on doing, my lady.”

Hands lowering to your thighs, fingers dipping in the thickness. Aemond nestled his head between them, eyes gliding over your glistening cunt. It was true that you were still chaste and he was sure of it, there was no need to check it. He softly ran his tongue over your pearl, a sharp breath from you entering his ears.

“I don't want this.” Your tone had a hint of plea in it. “Please, Aemond. It is too repulsive, I cannot—”

Aemond growled. “Cannot, what? You cannot allow my cock inside you? Cannot allow me to put a babe in you? Or won't allow me to simply because I'm Aemond.”

“Targaryen with the largest dragon who put an end to my family line.” You finished, vision blurring. Aemond knew this conversation was pointless to carry and he instead closed his lips around your swollen bud, suckling like it would produce the sweetest of nectars in existence.

You tried to fight him off, pushing at his shoulders with the little strength left in your small fingers to no avail. He sucked with great vigor and your demeanor fell — back rising up from the ruined mattress and hips pushing your mound further into his cage. He pulled back, lapping at your swollen clit over and over again, like a dog in heat. Tears furiously caressed down your face as Aemond’s fingers came to collect your arousal from the center of your folds.

By the Gods, you were a waterfall.

“Never did I think I would grow this addicted to the taste of a woman's cunt.” Aemond whispered, his warm breath shooting jolts of pleasure through you. Your hand on its own accord pressed onto his head, palm flaccid and fingers twisting his Targaryen strands around. “The more I taste you, the more famished I become.”

“G-Get off me.” You somehow managed to utter. You were mortified. How your body ached for him to continue, hand forcing his mouth against your hot heat whilst the heavy fists of your morals thudded on the door of your hazed mind.

All but a futile endeavor to fight back.

Aemond pulled back and reached for his slacks, undoing them. You watched with a dazed out look as he released his cock from the confines of his breeches. His fingers moving to curve under the hem of his shirt, ridding himself of the leather as well as his small clothes.

Left bare and naked before you, your gaze caught Aemond’s searing red cock. Head swollen and shining with leaking cum, veins traced up and down. You closed your eyes, in hopes that the nightmare before you would be over but that was only you losing last remnants of your hope.

“I-It won't fit.” You whispered to yourself, more tears sliding down your temples.

Aemond heard it, despite your voice being a low whisper. He reached over to grab your face between his large hand, fingers sinking into your cheeks. That caused you to flutter your weak lids open, staring back at him with a sheen in your pupils. “It will fit. Your maidenhead is still intact, so it might be painful. But who cares?”

Your bottom lip quivered as Aemond let go, holding his cock. He guided it across your wet slit, pushing its thick head past your folds and pressing into your pearl. Your breath was bated, perspiration dancing on your forehead. Your body had grown completely warm and you wished for someone, anyone to burn down the fire which was ignited in the fireplace.

Aemond gathered your arousal, in soft circulation around your pebble. You whined out, hands slapping at his broad shoulders to put an end to his obscenities. Yet he did not falter, will growing more profound and strengthened to a point of no return.

He soon aligned his cock along your hole with the disgusting intention to defile it and slipped in. Your walls squeezing around his cock head tightly, endeavoring to grow used to the size but Aemond did not wait. He pushed and your tears of sadness had now transformed into tears of pain.

Hot searing pain.

“It hurts, it hurts. Let me go, please let me go.” You cried, screamed even, nails scratching rapidly at his chest. You left evidence of your firmness, of your distaste for such degeneration. Long lacerations formed on a pale canvas as Aemond held you down with one hand circled around your throat while the other had pushed your leg up for more easy and open access.

You were crying relentlessly and it was beginning to annoy the young Prince. “Quiet now, or I will have your tongue.”

“I-It is too p-painful.” You sobbed and this time Aemond landed a tight slap to your other cheek, watching it imitate the shade of the other one. “I said, fucking quiet. If I hear anything other than sounds of pleasure out of these lips of yours, I will toss you to my guards.”

It was an empty threat.

Aemond would never, ever do that. You were for him, only him. Insignificant your view was about him.

You were his prize, a sign of victory.

Still Aemond stalled, not having the heart to pummel his cock fully into you. All he managed was to breach your maidenhead and you were already wailing like you'd been shot with an arrow. He waited it out, letting you grow accustomed to his length and thickness.

Once your agony-clad face recovered and softened, Aemond took it as a sign to move further. Your gummy walls sucking his cock in, caressing the rigid veins. Deeper, and deeper. He went slowly and carefully, which you didn't overlook. You felt him sheath his cock fully into you, arms extended out for him, in complete submission.

Aemond, silently surprised by such vulnerability and submission, took your hands into his and brought them to his nape. “Hold me, brace yourself, Dōna.”

That sweet tone of his.

It nearly warmed your heart but the constant reminder which took at Harrenhal haunted you like a ghost. A cursed bestowed upon you, no escape at all. Aemond melted within you, nestling against your spongey spot of nerves. Your lips fell when he found that sensitive spot of yours.

He didn't waste time pummeling his cock into your weeping cunt, growls of a beast escaping him. You could not bring yourself to look at him. Pulling him closer, you concealed your face within the crook of his neck as your hold clasped around his slender nape — fingers intertwining with silver roots. Aemond had only tried Sylvie, his first and last so when he felt you draw him closer, it ignited a fire impossible to end.

“Gods,” Aemond groaned in your ear, his sharp nose running along your cheek, both hands gripping your flesh. “If I had known laying with you would be this pleasurable, I would have done it when we were younglings.”

Disgust would have made path on yout face it it was not for the pleasure Aemond bestowed upon you. His thick cock head repeatedly bruised your cervix and all you could do was wail, your hold for dear life tightening around him. Aemond found delight on your innocent moans, your sweet little hiccups and sounds of pleasure. He pulled from you, to glance down and felt immense satisfaction at the ring of blood around his length. He had officially taken you, not exactly under the circumstances he wanted but pondering about that was futile now.

His one eye stayed focused on you. Examining the lines donning your forehead, dark brows furrowed and a sheen of sweat sitting on your forehead. Pale cheeks flustered and saccharine sweet lips parted, birthing little sounds.

An epitome of nobility and charm you were.

Aemond pulled out of you, just as you were beginning to reach your pounding climax.

He leaned on the head board of the bed, chest glistening with droplets of sweat. The fire crackling was not helping neither of you to find some cold. “Get on top of me.”

You weakly shook your head.

Aemond’s glare obliged you and you shifted on the bed, crawling on top of him. In the process, you caught the blood of your purity staining the pale bed sheets, as well as your thighs. A burning sensation prodded and you finally did what Aemond asked you to do. The evil man grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple.

“I'm sure you know your job here.”

Your lips trembled. “I-I am supposed to sit on it?”

Innocently you had voiced that question and Aemond almost cooed. He gave you a simple nod and watched as your cheeks burned with newfound embarrassment. You still did what you were told to, aware that fighting him back on this would only make him revoke the small kindness he'd shown you.

You grabbed a hold of his erect cock — pressing it over your soaked hole. As you slipped down on it, Aemond and you groaned in unison.

Your small hands found support on his bleeding chest, fingers swiping over his nipples accidentally and Aemond let out a choked gasp. The feeling of your walls clamping his cock mixed with the way your fingers brushed over his nipples was enough to send him fucking into you. Thrusting upwards into you while his large hand stayed locked on your hip.

Both of you moved simultaneously, greedily chasing after your own pleasure. Aemond saw a goddess in front of him — a weeping goddess who possessed the cunt of a hungry whore. Your small waist and bare tits bouncing with each move had him obsessed like a dog.

“Fuck, fuck, Dōna.”

He panted like his dragon, matching your pace with his, hand fondling your breasts. He was close but ripping an orgasm through you first was his priority and he was dedicated to it. Aemond felt your cunt squeeze him, watching as your tears fell in little pearls. “I am going to put a babe in you, Dōna. Can you believe it? Your childhood friend putting a babe in you.”

You couldn't even voice out your disagreement, Aemond was bound to do what he promised you. An intense feeling surged in your stomach, your pace slowing down and your sobbing growing more and more. Your orgasm tore through you in the form of essence, as your eyes disappeared behind your lids.

“Aemond, Aemond! Aemond.” You chanted his name out like a mantra and he slapped his cock deeper into you.

He fucking loved how submissive you were being now — entirely at his mercy and neath him. His own climax followed thoroughly, filling your walls with his spend. Spurting our rope after rope of white to fill up your expanded womb. Growls of need and ache echoed in the room and you couldn't stay still anymore, losing all your balance and colliding right in his chest.

Your little body was spent, fatigue and tiredness weakening you. Aemond was quick to wrap his arms around you, shushing you gently while you cried in his chest.

“It's over now.” He reassured but you knew very well that it was not. It was only for tonight that it was over.

Aemond comforted you, holding you against him with his cock still inside you.

“I hate you.” You cried, tears coating his chest as your forehead rested on his muscular chest. Aemond could only sigh, loathing the situation that bad befallen them. He did not resent you as you were the only one who had shown him true kindness.

But the war and throne were far more important.

“Rest, you need it.” He said, an order it was and you felt forced to comply. “Things will be very different from now on, Dōna. I will have the high sept marry us tomorrow, our child will not be a bastard.”

All you could do was weakly stir in his arms at that. There was no way you were willing but it was better than being a slave for Aemond’s guards. Being one man's whore was better than being a thousand’s.

[darleuxox]

lions and dragons don’t mix. ☆ aemond targaryen x male!lannister!reader headcanons

key masterlist ✦ hotd masterlist ✦ intro

warnings: repression; jealousy; r gets sliced in the face lol

summary: aemond hates you more than anything. your insulting jests, stupidly perfect hair, and handsome smile made him want to vomit. perhaps hate and love aren’t so different after all.

word count:1,305

a/n: from the first episode in which ewan mitchell slayed in his performance as aemond targaryen, i knew one thing for certain. that man needs some dick.

☆ when his mother announced she’d appoint a knight to specifically guard him, aemond, to put it frankly, was insulted. as one of the best swordsmen in westeros he shouldn’t need someone to protect him. but his mother gave him that look, one that suggested that this wasn’t for his comfort by any means - but for hers.

☆ although he felt reluctant, aemond sure as hell wasn’t going to choose some inexperienced sort. the idea grew on him at the thought of at least having some backup if anything ever went awry. so when introduced to the knights available, he showed no mercy.

☆ “how about your uncle gwayne hightower?”

☆ aemond thought back to his childhood when gwayne threw him over his shoulders without warning and tossed him into the river.

☆ “no.”

☆ the search didn’t pick up anytime soon. with aemond’s high standards, it was seemingly impossible to find a knight he’d approve of. then it was your turn to be dissected.

☆ “ah, that’s y/n lannister. lord tyland lannisters’s little brother,” otto recalled, “he’s your age, i believe. but the boy’s been training for much longer than you. he’s well known for leading troops against the rebellion up in casterly rock when his brother jason grew ill.” aemond scoffed, something competitive brewing in his chest. “ser criston cole says he’s a prodigy.”

☆ “intriguing,”aemond gritted out, before abruptly hopping over the stone fence and startling those on the balcony.

☆ “what the hell are you doing? aemond!”

☆ aemond ignored his grandfather as he took a good look at you. it was strange seeing someone so wealthy in a position seemingly beneath him. but he supposed you could handle it, given your reputation and the way your eyes remained focused on him.

☆ “let’s see if you’re as good as my grandfather says, hm?” aemond told you, unsheathing his sword.

☆ strangely enough, you smiled kindly, drawing out your blade and bowing at aemond, “of course, my prince.”

☆ the fight ended with aemond storming out of the room with no knight. you were officially the most insufferable person he ever met.

☆ “too princely to land a hit, are you?” you’d laugh.

☆ “you parried the wrong way, my prince,” you said grinning wildly, “let me show you how it’s done.”

☆ at one point you even held him down, your arms securing a tight hold around his neck, “let’s just stop before you cut my head off. or i cut yours.” aemond had to fight back. he hated how you smelled of apples and grass. he despised the feeling of your warm hands being so strong yet gentle.

☆ aemond couldn’t sleep at all that night.

☆ tyland wasn’t pleased with you, to say the very least. your older brother was typically supportive and delighted to hear about your wins, until now. he agreed to let you come to kings landing to protect the prince, not humiliate him.

☆ “if aemond tells the king or queen about this, he could have you killed!” tyland hissed.

☆ “i’m sure people have beat him in the past and they’re still alive,” you chuckled, “calm down.”

☆ “that’s because they didn’t bully him, you nitwit!”

☆ in a perfect world, aemond would go to his father for these situations. and considering his father didn’t care for his second family - aemond went to ser criston cole.

☆ “my prince, i don’t mean to be out of step,” criston explained, “but wouldn’t your guard being able to beat you in a fight be a good thing?”

☆ “what are you on about?”

☆ “if ser y/n can keep up with you, he can sure as hell keep up with anyone standing in your way.”

☆ aemond had begrudgingly made his decision by sunrise. you would be appointed as his personal guard while training with him during his lessons with ser cole to help him improve his swordsmanship.

☆ as his guard you and aemond see a lot of each other, the good and the bad. you quickly become acquainted with the fact that aemond’s attitude is a facade, and aemond learns to get used to your presence.

☆ more often than not you have to hold aemond back from one of his infamous tantrums or fights. at the moment he resents you for it, but after cooling off he’s thankful you were there before he did something regretful.

☆ to put it simply, vhagar is a grumpy old bitch. one that aemond expected to tear you apart. instead, she lets you pet her humungous cheek like a dog. he can’t seem to name that pleasant feeling in his chest whenever he sees you act so sweetly.

☆ once you accidentally walked in on aemond without his eyepatch. within seconds he had a knife to your throat and had you pressed against the wall. you simply told him the sapphire looked beautiful.

☆ aemond appreciates how nice you are to helaena and their mother. you always keep an eye on them when he can’t.

☆ aemond spent a lot of his time with ser criston cole, and although he appreciated the knight’s mentorship, he treated him like glass in some ways. you on the other hand, weren’t afraid to treat aemond like anyone else.

☆ “it’s not your loss of an eye that scares people away aemond. it’s the crazed look you have in the remaining one.”

☆ “y/n. come on,” cole said, giving you a stern look.

☆ “don’t deny it, he’s looking at me with it right now.”

☆ “just stop- oh.” the older man was silent, scarcely holding back a grin.

☆ you on the other hand had gotten your sword out, polishing it a bit more before showing it to aemond. aemond looked at his reflection and he was clearly unsure of what to say. it would be fruitless to fight back if you were right.

☆ “don’t worry aemond, it’s all in good fun!” you said, noting his embarrassed look, turning to aemond and wrapping an arm around his shoulder, “that’s what being a knight is all about, jesting with comrades! you can make fun of me now if you’d like!”

☆ “you…” aemond struggled, looking down at his hands, “you’re…”

☆ “go on!”

☆ “you’re insufferable.” initially he wasn’t kidding around. but aemond was nervous, even more so when you were deathly silent, glaring daggers at him. aemond was ready for you to choke him until you burst out into laughter.

☆ “there we go!” you hollered, “and your hair looks like moldy wheat!”

☆ “you oaf - take that back!”

☆ “you walk like a donkey!”

☆ ser criston cole was very amused watching you two go back and forth. it was nice to see aemond making friends. but he was surprised that even when hearing a particularly bad joke from aemond (which was all of them), you’d laugh anyways.

☆ aemond realizes how he feels about you when he hears the possibility of you marrying a martell princess. when he should’ve been delighted for you he felt hurt and betrayed.

☆ one wouldn’t think it possible to ignore their own bodyguard, but aemond proved everyone wrong. he began to treat you like a ghost, and it stung horribly.

☆ but much to aemond’s chagrin, you were persistent. taking every opportunity you could to ask him what you did wrong. eventually, you had cornered him in a secluded hall, desperate for some answers after a particularly heated training session, which resulted in aemond leaving a nasty cut on your forearm.

☆ aemond wanted to kill you when you hugged him, but all he found himself able to do was melt in your embrace. he realized this was the feeling his mother told him about, unconditional love that left you soft and dizzy. the yearnful touch that would leave him begging for more. something he was supposed to feel for someone he’d eventually marry. in a moment of confusing bliss and heartache, he pulled your face into his and pressed a hard kiss onto your lips.

[asha-mage]

Would love to hear five fun facts about an AU where one of the other Two Rivers boys is the Dragon Reborn - Mat or Perrin, the choice is yours.

[Send me a potential AU and I'll answer with five things from that story!]

Going with Mat here-

Since I have such a hard time separating the idea of Rand from the idea of the Dragon, as both mythological figure and for LTT reasons, I'd probably approach this from the angle that Mat is the 'champion of the light' in this specific turning, i.e still the Gambler/Son of Battles archetype, but whose past life resulted in the Breaking of the World, and who must now redeem himself through defeating the Dark One in the present era, and re-sealing the Bore. I would keep the trickster fox symbolism, but mix in heavy elements of Loki (in particular the bits surrounding the death of Balder, and the murder of his sons Nari and Vali as punishment/use to bind him). I would also replaced Callandor (which is an OG exaclibur refrence) with Lævateinn, one of Loki's mythological weapons, an draw heavy parallels with both Gungir and the arrow crafted to slay Balder of mistletoe.

Mat struggles a lot more then Rand with certain aspects of being the savior, less so with others. He's far, far more resistant to accepting his fate especially in the begging, and the story would need to force him into a position where he had the illusion of choice. Rand could be compelled by duty and compassion to accept he is The Dragon- Mat would defiantly refuse just to spite fate.

I would keep the idea that Mat was born outside the Two Rivers, but not make him Aiel born. Instead I'd probably make him Seanchan born- instead of the Aiel War twenty years ago, it was the First Seanchan invasion, with them being beaten back at the Bloodsnows instead, in a decisive (but costly) Westlands victory. Instead of Maiden of the Spear, Mat's biological mother would have been a Deathwatch Guard, likely someone also originally from the Westlands, with a parallel story to Shaiel'sl. His father would have been an Imperial Prince (an adoptive brother of Radhanan's/potential threat to her power) placed in charge of the invasion as a suicide mission/punishment for disgrace.

Conversely it is the Seanchan that Mat has to bind to aid him rather then the Aiel- something he struggles with a lot more then Rand did with the Aiel, though he also feels a lot less guilty about upending their culture and social order then Rand did. This also means he spends TSR/TFOH journeying to, then having to directly confront the Court of the Nine Moons et all, where has to reveal the secret lies of which the Empire predicates it's strength. This leaves Tuon in Couladin's approximate role: the rallying point of Imperial opposition, attempting to pry loose Mat's grip on power.

Because I am, in my heart of hearts a filthy Cauthor shipper- I would have Rand remain at Mat's side as confidant and guardian through to the bitter end. In my head he ends up taking up the dagger in order to protect Mat from Mordeth, and almost consumed by it in a similar way before breaking free/being healed. Though I wouldn't have him Aiel born, I probably would give him an parallel Aiel Training Arc to both help get over Dagger Withdrawal Syndrome and find his niche (assuming he can't channel in this turning).

[acewritesfics]

Family Day Out: Part 01 | Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Request: From Anon

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Fluff, a little swearing, dad!eddie.

Word Count: 1,441

Tag List: Open - acewritesfics taglist sign up

Stranger Things Masterlist

Part 02 | Part 03

Four Years After Vecna 

The sound of a thump coming from her daughter’s bedroom causes Y/N to stop washing the breakfast dishes. When she hears her husband, Eddie letting out a groan and Sophie’s boisterous laughter fills the two-bedroom trailer, her curiosity grows. She walks to Sophie’s bedroom and leans against the door frame after drying her hands with the dish towel. 

“What’s happening in here?” she asks, gaining the attention of her husband and daughter. Eddie and Sophie exchange glances before looking at her.  

She surveys the bedroom. The floor was littered with wooden blocks and Eddie’s Dungeon & Dragon’s figurines. The container in which the blocks were stored was tipped over. The plastic sword that Uncle Dustin gave her for her third birthday is in her right hand. 

“I slayed the dragon and saved Daddy!” Sophie exclaims with delight. 

“You did?” She moves into the bedroom and kneels beside Sophie. She draws her into a hug and smothers her with kisses all over her face. “ Mommy is so proud of you and thanks you greatly.”   

Sophie continues to giggle as she tries to push away. “Mommy, stop!”  

Y/N kisses her cheek once more and leans to share a quick kiss with Eddie. “Are we almost ready to depart for our fun day out? Is that what you’re wearing to day?” 

Sophie was wearing her purple princess dress and a denim vest that looked “just like daddy’s one,” complete with patches all over it. She was wearing her little black biker boots and Eddie’s old black and white skull bandana was wrapped around her head to keep her mess of dark curls—which she also inherited from Eddie along with his deep drown eyes—out of her face. The plastic sword that Uncle Dustin gave her for her third birthday is in her right hand. 

“Yes!” Sophie applauds. “Can I bring sword?”  

“The sword is staying at home today, sweetie,” Eddie replies.  

She sets her sword down and gestures to Eddie’s sock-covered feet, “Daddy shoes.”  

“I’m going to put them on right now,” Eddie says, standing up. He extends a hand to Y/N and helps her to her feet. 

“And you can help me pack your bag,” Y/N tells Sophie, offering her hand to the three-year-old, who takes it immediately. Eddie is followed by the two his two favorite ladies as they leave Sophie’s bedroom and walks into the living room.   Sophie grabs her muppets’ backpack and passes it to her mother, who takes it into the kitchen and begins packing it with snacks and a change of clothes for the small girl. She made sure to pack some toys for Sophie to keep her occupied in the van. The Munson family was on their way to the park as soon as they were ready. 

When they arrived at the park, Eddie helps Sophie in get out of her car seat and lifts her up, carrying her on his shoulders. “Gentle,” he softly reminds her as she clutches fistfuls of his hair to hold on to him. Eddie holds her legs to keep her steady as she releases his hair and throws her tiny arms around his head. As she walks behind the father-daughter duo, Y/N grins.  

She believed that Eddie deserved all the wonderful things that came his way because of everything they had gone through since learning about the existence of the upside down, which had happened in the most dreadful way. He had been implicated in all three of the horrific killings that had occurred in 1986 and had witnessed two of them. Most of Hawkins had turned their backs on him, not that they had given him the time of day before Jason Carver rallied an angry mob of hicks to go after him. Y/N, his Uncle Wayne, and Dustin were the only three people who didn’t need to be convinced from the start that he didn’t do it. The others had their doubts until they found him and he had explained what had happened to Chrissy. 

Before the Hawkins Upside Down group made the decision to take Vecna on themselves, the few days he had spent in hiding felt like some of the worst. Y/N had been paired with Dustin and Eddie, and everything went smoothly until Eddie decided to play the hero. When Y/N and Dustin found Eddie lying in the middle of the road, surrounded by dead demobats and bleeding profusely, it quickly turned into the worst day of her life. However, by some miracle, they had been able to pull the wounded three time senior from the upside-down and find a person who would help him. With more than one eyewitness and no concrete proof that Eddie was responsible for the murders, his name was cleared and he was able to finally graduate. However, it wasn’t enough to keep him in Hawkins. 

Eddie announced to her that he intended to leave Hawkins and never come back three months after he had physically recovered. Even after his name was cleared, Eddie was still not accepted in the town.  He couldn’t go anywhere without people sneering and constantly harrassing him. Every week, his uncle’s trailer, where they stayed with him, was vandalized. The young couple told Wayne of their decision, packed up the little amount of belongings that they owned, and left Hawkins, but not before promising the others that they would call as soon as they could. 

For four months, they lived out of his van and the occasional hotel room until they had enough money from their new jobs to find a place to live. It didn’t take them long to find the trailer in which they currently resided. A month after leaving Hawkins, Y/N found out she was pregnant with Sophie. They were engaged five months later and eloped at the courthouse, with Wayne, who was visiting them at the time, as a witness.  

And now, here they are four years later, happily married, with a beautiful daughter who is Eddie’s twin, making do with what they must provide for their daughter and any future children they may have. Despite not having much, she considered what they have to be everything they need.  

“Mommy, look!” Her daughter’s delighted squeal cuts through her thoughts. She glances to see where she’s pointing from her father’s shoulders and sees a mother duck swimming in the water with her ducklings. Her favorite animals, second only to dragons, are ducks.  

“Mama duck has babies,” she exclaims as she steps beside her husband, lifting Sophie off his shoulders. 

They approach the pond and take a seat a few feet away from the water’s edge. While watching the ducks and ducklings, Sophie curls up on Eddie’s lap, pointing out when they would bob underwater and then come back up, and getting excited when some of them came back onto land.  

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Eddie begins, breaking the silence. They had been at the park for about thirty to forty minutes when Sophie cuddled up against Eddie’s chest and dozed off as he ran his fingers through her hair. 

“About?” she wonders, her gaze shifting from the water to her husband.  

“I’d like another one,” he confesses.  

“Another what?” she asks, perplexed.  

“Another baby,” he says. “I’d like to start trying for another one. I think it’ll be nice to have another one and to give Soph a baby brother or sister.”  

She appears to be thinking about something as she nods her head and chews on her lower lip. She agrees that that did sound nice.  "What if I told you we don’t have to try for another one?“  

It was now his time to appear puzzled. "I don’t understand.” 

She can’t help the grin that appears on her lips. “I was going to tell you tonight, but since you brought it up, this morning’s phone call from the doctor was to confirm that I’m pregnant again.”  

His expression quickly shifts from confusion to surprise and then to pure excitement and joy. “We’re having another baby?”  

She confirms what she just said with a nod of her head.  

“I love you so fucking much,” he says softly as he pulls her into a kiss, careful not to wake their sleeping daughter. “Holy shit, we’re going to need a bigger home.” 

Y/N chuckles. “We have approximately seven months to find one.”  

“I love you,” he says again, kissing her. “And I love you,” he continues, kissing Sophie’s head. Y/N grins as she watches him put his hand on her stomach. “And I love you.”  

“We all love you, too,” Y/N says as she kisses him this time. 

TAGGED: @rainydayteacups | @alexxavicry

[nastasya--filippovna]

WHO IS CROWLEY AFTER THE FALL (PART2)

Here it is finally.

So what is the Leviathan.

In mythology and theology the Leviathan is a sea-serpent and is mentioned in several books of the Hebrew Bible such as the Book of Job and Book Isaiah and Book of Enoch. The Leviathan of the Book of Job is a reflection of the older Canaanite Lotan, a primeval monster defeated by the god Baal Hadad. Parallels to the role of Mesopotamian Tiamat defeated by Marduk have long been drawn in comparative mythology, as have been wider comparisons to dragon and world serpent narratives such as Indra slaying Vrtra or Thor slaying Jörmungandr.

Once again we see the pattern of Biblical creatures being “inspired” from pagan ones.

Thomas Aquinas described Leviathan as the demon of envy, first in punishing the corresponding sinners. Peter Binsfeld likewise classified Leviathan as the demon of envy, as one of the seven Princes of Hell corresponding to the seven deadly sins. Leviathan became associated with, and may originally have been referred to by, the visual motif of the Hellmouth, a monstrous animal into whose mouth the damned disappear at the Last Judgment, found in Anglo-Saxon art from about 800, and later all over Europe.

In the Book of Enoch, The Leviathan is a female giant chaos serpent that lives deep in the ocean, while her mate, Behemoth, is a male giant chaos beast (based off of a hippopotamus or water-ox) who lives in the mythical desert of Duidain, East of Eden.

Ring any bells. Chaos mongering (fomenting), ox, eastern gate of eden…. 

The Hebrew word that translates to Leviathan (Livyatan) appears six times in the Old Testament. One of them is in Job 41. The word is derived from the root Iwy or ‘ twist, coil’ and means ‘the sinuous one.’ So I think we can establish that this creature is at least indicated to be snake-like. Scholars trace the etymology of whale and crocodile 

In the Book of Isaiah it is mentioned that the beast will rise from the water and will be defeated by God on the Last Day. However, quite interestingly nowhere in the Old Testament is the Leviathan written as evil. Only later scholars have equated it with the devil so that the battle between God and Chaos can be interpreted as the battle between God and the Devil.

Now let’s make this more interesting: The Gnostic sect venerate the biblical serpent of the Garden of Eden as a symbol of wisdom, which the malevolent Demiurge tried to hide from Adam and Eve. They identify the Leviathan as the serpent of Eden and in this belief system the Leviathan appears as an Ouroboros, separating the divine realm from humanity by enveloping or permeating the material world.

I mean I don’t even need to say anything further.  

And he does show up in GO Season 2. The matchbox.

Here 

When did this happen, I wonder……hmmmmmm

Oh YES!

Crowley wearing Aziraphale’s face

     

Here’s the rest of the passage from Job

1 Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?

2 Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?

3 Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee?

4 Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?

5 Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?

6 Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants?

7 Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears?

8 Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.

9 Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?

10 None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?

11 Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.

12 I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion.

13 Who can discover the face of his garment? (penetrate his coat of armor)  or who can come to him with his double bridle?

14 Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about.

15 His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.

16 One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.

17 They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be sundered.

18 By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

19 Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.

20 Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.

21 His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.

22 In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him.

23 The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved.

24 His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone.

25 When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves.

26 The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.

27 He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.

28 The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble.

29 Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.

30 Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire.

31 He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.

32 He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary.

33 Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear.

34 He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.

The Leviathan is a magnificent creature. And the very fact that God goes to so much trouble to describe the magnanimity of this creature is to show what God has created and hence Her magnanimity must be even greater in comparison for the Creator is always superior to the Creation. And if God can so easily abuse and humiliate this beautiful monster, then God must be worshipped and feared.

Though to the unsuspecting eye these passages may ring no familiar bells, a closer look makes you realize how Crowley-coded they are. And to think that in a story where Neil has never witten or shown anything that wasn’t woven in finely with the characters, I alwsy wondered why he chose the Book of Job for the minisode when he could have included any other one.  

But it reminded me that Crowleys character is truly unrelenting. He’s a nether millstone. He won’t give up that easily. He absolutely won’t submit to anyone, and he’s shown time and time again that his vociferous litanies about running away disappear as soon as someone or something he cares about is in danger (i.e. Aziraphale). And the second coming will also threaten his creation (the universe). His refusal to submit to authority, the refusal to be subjugated is the reason he fell in the first place. And quite interestingly he doesn’t own Hell either. He resists that too. For him it’s not Heaven or Hell that matters but the resistance to Power.  

I also think it’s also fitting that the Leviathan is perceived to be a monster that must be slain or enslaved but in reality is another of God’s creations just like the sun and the stars and the rivers and the mountains.  

And it makes me think of how Crowley has always been labeled as evil because he fell. I think of how, at heart, he is truly gentle and kind, he’s a starmaker. But his fall, his appearance, his desire to be autonomous and his grey moral campus make him feared and a target. And that has made him the embodiment of chaos. His refusal to submit himself to the uniformity of both worlds, to the rules and guidelines that create this illusion of order sets him apart from them. He embraces the chaos that grayness offers, that being ‘human’ brings. And hence the final battle will be between God and chaos with God justifies as being the battle between good and evil because, well, he’s a demon.    

The Leviathan being historically associated with the sin of envy is again I think written into the plot very carefully. He is envious of humanity’s ability to question God, to have choices to not be doomed to heaven or hell for all eternity. He is envious of what Maggie and Nina have. He’s envious of what Beelz and Gabe have.

“I mean if Gabriel and Beelzebub can go off together…..”

And then him rejecting Azirapahle’s offer— he has spent his life (a long, long life) rejecting power and authority. In his relationship with Aziraphale he found his sanctuary, a relation clean of power dynamics. Up till now they were both equal. But this new offer jeopardizes that.

And I love how his ego and pride come to play here. He would never accept being “second in command to anyone”. And his envy of how God’s mercy is free for some but wholly denied to him.

[adraarts]

...Warning. The following information is classified... Subject SS04: Simela Simeonidis Age: 28 Gender: Female (She/Her) Nun of the Eye of Michael & Gung Ho Gun The Dragon "...Subject was scouted from the orphanage in December for Sister Mirofora's Melee Weapons Project. The fourth subject and only successor to survive and achieve outstanding results from The Spear's training regimens, programs and testing..." ...Error. Board clearance required to read further information. Access denied...

Character Information Spotify Playlist O.C Tag Please click on the images for full view and the ALT text for a little bit more information! Further artists notes beneath the cut!

PLEASE NOTE: - That the head scarf that my O.C is wearing on her head is known as an 'epimandylion', otherwise known as the 'apostolnik'. A lot of her imagery is drawn upon Christian Eastern Orthodoxy (Particularly the Greek Branch). E.g. Her gun lance, Ascalon, named after the spear that Saint George used to slay the dragon. - While the only thing separating Simela's appearances between her Trigun: Maximum/Trigun: 1998 and Trigun: Stampede looks is the Eye of Michael symbol on her nun's habit for Trigun: Stampede, the difference is mainly in the personality. In Trigun: Maximum/Trigun: 1998 she is a lot more reserved with her true emotions, thoughts and feelings, she is a lot more cold. In Trigun: Stampede, she is very open with her thoughts, feelings and emotions, and actively goes out of her way to be assertive and stand up for herself. Not to say that her Trigun: Maximum/Trigun: 1998 self doesn't, it's just that the Trigun: Stampede version is more extroverted and a little bit more brash.

But boy.

What a passion project this was.

I feel like I don't have the words to accurately describe how much this O.C has healed me.

This whole thing was almost a years worth of progress, and one of the many contributions involved in my journey of falling in love with art again and wanting to draw more after many years of not drawing and/or being inconsistent and unhappy with my art. Making Simela after a particularly rough December 2022, and discovering Trigun in 2023, was what I needed. I needed to make an O.C that was equal parts me and the things that I loved; The NieR series, One Piece, Pontic-Greek culture, Greek culture, Dragoons from the Final Fantasy series, strong female characters, the list goes on. There was a time in my life where I was made to feel ashamed for putting cultural and ethnic aspects of myself into my O.C's; what representation was for me out there, as a person of Greek background, in anime? None. This is where my Trigun O.C came in and turned my goddamn life on my head! Thick brows? Check. Dark, thick hair? Check. Hip dips? Fuck yeah!

Making and further developing this O.C (Along with being in the Trigun space in general) has made me discover parts of myself that I otherwise would have never known of/discovered. Fuck, Trigun made me write again freely without any restrictions or rules, it made me make art again.

Thank you Trigun, and the people I have met in the fandom ;v;/

[axolistic]

Wings of Fire thingy

I loved doing this, it was really fun. I couldn’t fit everyone I wanted to, I may do this again with more dragons, I just thing the book series is pretty neat. Some notes about the designs and the characters in general:

DARKSTALKER: I hate him, but I think he is quite interesting, I want him to die in very horrible ways, and to study him under a microscope. Regarding his design, I tried to make him green because of Foeslayer, and also wanted to nod to Arctic with the diamond shaped scales, instead of the teardrop ones. Also i gave him huge pupils, to make him more creepy i guess.

GLORY: I just think she’s neat, I didn’t change much about her design, since its pretty recognizable and cool. Her book is my favorite one out of the first arc ones, I really like when she first entered the rainforest, she’s just badass overall. Glory honestly slayed the whole book and I kinda hate how Tui gave her a love interest, i just feel like it wasn’t necessary and it just annoyed me lol.

PERIL: I honestly kinda hated her at first, but she’s one of my favorites now. Her story is very interesting and I think that her whole character growth journey is very endearing. Her design was always pretty cool, But i added some more light blue accents because i think they just bring the design together better.

ANEMONE: She is just neat to me, and i really like her design, mostly because of her colors. I always imagined her with glasses for some reason, I didn’t add them because I don’t know how to draw them lol. Something I didn’t like about her character, was that the only reason she had animus powers was because of Turtle, i really hated that.

SNOWFLAKE: I just related to her, like quite a whole lot. I would like to see more of her, I feel like they could do more with her character. I gotta be honest, i hate drawing icewings, they all just look the same to me.

SNOWFALL: I really liked her book, probably my favorite out of arc 3, I really liked her story and personality, her interactions with Lynx were also very entertaining, her warm tones are based on the cover of her book, i know its just the lightning but i felt like it was something worth nodding to.

FREEDOM: She was a very entertaining antagonist and the only reason i like Luna’s book to be honest…. She’s pretty tragic and I find her interactions and whole dynamic with Cottonmouth really funny. I felt inclined to give her antennae like the silkwings but ultimately decided against it. Her personality reminds me of myself and we have same vibe.

PYRITE / HAILSTORM: They are just… tragic, And I crave for more of her story, its just left unfinished (at least that what it feels like to me) I just need to know what happened to her after the whole duel with Winter, I need to know what happened, Its just- DCBUDHCJSKSMLX.

[written-in-flowers]

Hi! I’d like to request something with Aemond x older!reader (non-highborn), where reader is insecure of her age and being older than him but he reassures her it doesn’t matter to him. Fluff and/or smut up to you ☺️ love your work!

Thank you so much! I really appreciate it! <3

Sweet Summer Prince

You never understood his interest. Many pretty young ladies served in Harrenhal. You saw them walking around, being eyed and bedded by the soldiers now occupying the ancient stronghold. Aemond, being a prince and their commander, could have his pick of any of them. Yet, he'd picked you, the woman twice his age, widowed with two children of her own. You'd been the head of house when the prince showed up with his army and enormous dragon. They seized the castle within a day, slaying all the queen's loyalists inside, but leaving the servants alive. Who will cook their meals if they killed the entire household?

You'd expected one of the other serving girls to become the prince's bed mate. Naturally, they all dreaded the idea of catching his eye (he's only got the one), and having to 'serve' him personally. However, it'd been you he chose. One night, he sent one of his knights to bring you to him in his chambers. You were not a naïve woman. You'd been in Harrenhal since your childhood; your mother a scullery maid and your father the kennel master. You'd seen many women be taken from the kitchens or common rooms, and brought before whichever lord owned the stronghold at the time. You walked to the prince's quarters with your head up high. You refused to let these invaders see you fearful or weeping as you were brought before the young prince.

Prince Aemond lost his left eye many years ago, but you'd seen worse. Broad and leggy, he had the silver hair and blue eyes of the Targaryen line. You assumed he must be a strong lad if he could ride the ancient Vhagar and seize a stronghold like Harrenhal all by himself. He didn't wear his eyepatch that night, so instead he looked at you with the gleaming sapphire he put in place of the missing eye. You'd assumed he'd ask you to do some mundane task for him or complain to you about one the servers under your charge. You worried it might even be about your twins; they'd broken into the armory or gotten too close to his dragon or some other childish thing that might've upset him. But, instead he asked:

"Would you like some wine?"

Never turning down a cup of anything, you agreed. He'd gotten a plate of cheese, bread, grapes and a pitcher of wine on his table, and sat by the firelight to avoid the chill in the air. You remember looking over his sharp features, and realizing his appearance matched the coldness underneath. You tried to keep things easy, not showing any fear or dread in his presence. He asked you questions about yourself, your role at Harrenhal, and your background. He gave you snippets of his own life: being the second son of the late King Viserys, brother to the new king Aegon II, and rider of Vhagar, the oldest and largest of dragons. You found him quite fascinating. He was well-read, having studied history and philosophy. He enjoyed poetry and books just as much as sword and shield. You nearly asked why they hadn't made him the king. He appeared capable of it. But, Aemond seemed to respect the line of succession, and what the hell did you know? You're only a long-time servant.

The prince's real intentions became clear a few nights later, when he asked you to draw him a bath, then asked you to join him in it. You laughed that you aren't what he wants. He needed a supple, lithe beauty whom he can lift around like a rag doll. Aemond only smirked at you, then said he didn't want a little girl. He wanted a woman. It'd been many years since a man approached you in such a way. Your husband died of a fever years before, and you'd never taken up another lover since then. But, you could not refuse a prince, especially one like Aemond. You'd disrobed in front of him, seeing his eye scanning your naked figure, before you stepped into the warm waters with him. Your naked bodies touching, you forced yourself to keep control as the young, handsome, strong man began running his hands over you. You never expected a man as young as Aemond to know a woman's body, but yes, he did. Very well. In minutes, the boy had you trembling and panting against his body as he fingers pumped between your thighs.

Since then, you and Aemond spent every night together. You did not always make love, but the nights you did felt special. Always gentle. Always careful. You'll admit, he made you feel young. He brought an exciting light into your life, and him being fond of your twins only made you like him more. They'd been most pleased when he carefully introduced Dian to Vhagar after the boy expressed an interest in dragons. Dia asked you if you'd marry Prince Aemond, so she may be a princess. You laughed. You told her only noble ladies became princesses. But, this comment did make you think:

Why did he want you?

You stood in his bed chamber at night, preparing his bed for his nightly routine and putting a fresh basin and jug of water for him. You glanced across the room to see Flora, a shapely blonde girl ten years younger than you. She'd become popular amongst the men in Harrenhal. Aemond should have her. She is better suited, not an old crone like you, even though you were only five-and-thirty.

Aemond appeared in the room some time later, sending Flora away at once. You recognized the glint in his eye once she disappeared. It surveyed you from afar, and you couldn't help but blush. He had a way of making you feel like a young maiden again. This was why he should have Flora. She is young. Never married with no children, the signs of having bore a child did not stretch or weigh down her body like you. She'd be tighter, and more pliable than you.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his soft-spoken voice louder in the quiet room.

"Nothing, my prince," you insisted, turning your back and moving things around on a table even though you didn't need to. "Did you enjoy your dinner tonight? I'm afraid Horace has trouble finding proper meat these days. He says your dragon's presence scares away all the good game."

"Dinner was acceptable enough, but that's not what concerns me right now." You heard him coming up behind you. You flinched for a moment as large hands went around your wide hips. "Something's upset you. I wish to know what it is."

"Nothing's upset me."

"You don't need to hide things from me," he assured you, hands going up your sides and bringing you to his chest. Warm lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "Please, tell me."

"You should bed Flora," you whispered back. You looked anywhere but at him. You couldn't stand it if you caught his eyes. "She's pretty, young, and new. She's never known a man, as far as I know, so her maidenhood can be yours. You shouldn't be with an old woman like me."

"I don't want Flora," he said. "She doesn't excite me like you do."

You laughed, "Excite you?"

"Yes," he pressed himself into you, "Excite me. Your age doesn't matter to me, Y/N. It never has. It's your heart I care for most."

"That and you have an appetite for old crones."

He chuckled softly, hands going to your back and unlacing your underbust. "I might," he said, tossing it aside once he'd finished, and slowly pulling your chemise from your shoulders. "You bring me comfort," he continued, kissing from your neck to your shoulder, "And peace in this place. Enemies stand all around me, wanting to kill me and take my brother's crown away. They want to take my birthright from me. I have so few people I trust in this life." He slipped your chemise down from your breasts, heavy and hanging from birthing children. You gasped once his hands cupped them, giving them a gentle squeeze, "I wish for you to be one of them."

Smiling, you turned around to face him. Carefully, you removed his eyepatch to see his sapphire eye. Your thumb traced over the jagged scar that ran from above the eyebrow to his cheek. Thin lips curled into a faint smirk before finally leaning to capture yours. He stoked a fire inside you that never went out. The kiss deepened as you both removed the rest of each other's clothes, falling back onto his bed. Your bodies became one piece, limbs sliding until you locked together in a passionate embrace. You tossed your head back, he dotted kisses along your collarbone and down to your breasts. You spread your thighs to let him slide between them, and began grinding your hips into his. You felt his exact length laying over your sex, which only added fuel to the fire inside you. Your clit brushed over his shaft each time you moved, and when he matched your movements, he growled against your breasts. Nipples peaked hard, his slid his tongue around and over it before giving a soft suckle. You whimpered. 

“My prince...” you sighed, your hands sliding through his hair while he sunk down your body. 

His head between your thighs, his tongue languidly slipped over each of your folds before touching the very center. He continued this for a while: teasing dragging the tip of his tongue on each side before rapidly flicking over the clit up top. He used his tongue to massage the space just underneath, as he licking the underside right above your entrance. A strong arm kept you pinned to the bed so he could explore every crevasse of your sex, licking up the juices dripping out. Your hands grabbing tufts of hair, you pushed his face further into you so he tongue slipped through your entrance. Grabbing the outside of your thighs, he kept still as you grinded into his face. He growled and it sent light vibrations through your body, making you quiver. He replaced his tongue with his fingers, the long digits massaging your walls and curling inside you. It made you ache for more, for him. You never felt more complete than when Aemond filled you to the hilt. A young man very eager to please you, he kept working his fingers into you until you slid away from him. In your heat, you reached down to the young prince and rolled him onto his back. 

Lips crashing together, he had no complaints when he entered you. Your slick still on your lips, you licked it off as you began rocking on top of him. He groaned deeply, grasping onto your hips tightly and guiding you along his length. Your walls squeezed him with each stroke. Tenderness could be saved for the morning. Right then, you needed him. You needed him to assure you that you are being ridiculous; that he truly loved you. You’d met so many men who gave proclamations of love, only to walk away once you’d given them what they wanted. Even your late husband proved to be the same; he only stayed because he’d gotten you pregnant, and forced into matrimony. Aemond filled you completely, not too large or small. You certainly felt his girth stretch you. His hands never left you. His lips left tiny stings of pain with each lick or bite at your flesh. The hunger in each of you burned hot like dragon fire, your pace beginning to pick up and release drawing closer. 

Moments later, your climaxes burst through your bodies. You shuddered, stiffened and pulsated in each wave. Aemond kept his hand around your throat to keep you in place, riding out his orgasm right after yours. Pure ecstasy made you feel dizzy, the combination of his hand and his cock bringing you further over the edge before it’d passed. A familiar warmth filled you once Aemond’s climax subsided. You’d brew a pot of moontea later. 

Or perhaps you might not. Perhaps you keep his seed inside you. You weren’t so old. You could have another child...a beautiful one with a sharp nose, blue eyes and silver hair. 

Once you’d both finished, you rolled away from Aemond onto your back. You let the draft coming from the window cool your heated skin. You both laid in silence for a brief moment to catch your breath. Neither of you said anything as you slowly came together underneath the sheets. He did not have to. It was in the kisses, and gentle touches he gave. He truly desired you, if anything. You snuggled closer to him, feeling his heart beat in time with yours, and slowly drifted to sleep. 

****

Aemond died a few months later at The God’s Eye, fighting on his dragon against his uncle, Daemon Targaryen. You’d never felt such a strong heartbreak before. The person who’d breathed life back into you no longer walked the world. He’d gone somewhere far, where you could not touch or kiss him. You’d lost everything. The only thing you had left of Aemond was the son he gave you.

A silver-haired boy you named Cedric. You knew people at Harrenhal whispered about what happened between you and Aemond. Anyone who looked at Cedric knew it. You didn’t care. He often reminded you of Aemond at times: reserved, quiet, but strong and intelligent. You thought he might be a knight or a soldier one day. 

Foolishly, he might even be a king. 

***

A/N: thank you so much for this! I’d love to do something similar sometime but with highborn, since age mattered more in court than in common people. But, I enjoyed this so much, I hope you did too! <3

[falmerbrook]

An Equal (Miraak Oneshot)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53165962

Summary: Miraak revels in his fight against the Last Dragonborn, and in the end she grants him a moment of mercy.

Basically I've just had this idea in my head of the LDB last minute dragging a dying Miraak back to Nirn with them.

-

At some point the fight turned into a game; the sort of play-fighting two dogs would indulge in.

            Miraak was supposed to be fighting for his life—his freedom—but the thrill of battle had gotten to his head. Every fireball that whiffed by him, every shout that was countered by an equally powerful cry, and every soul of a dragon he felled that surged into his own soul energized him in ways he hadn’t been energized in millennia. Hell, in ways he hadn’t been energized ever. He’d fought hundreds of battles over his mortal life, many against his fellow priests with a perfect mastery of the Thu’um, but none had ever felt like a true equal. A challenge, sure, but there was never someone who could match Miraak in his understanding of the dragons’ tongue. They had treated it as a simple language, a skill to practice, a tool to use for their gain, but for Miraak it was a fundamental part of his world. It shaped him and everything around him. Face to face, spell to spell, with another Dragonborn was different. While her skills were obviously less refined, her use of the Thu’um held a natural, instinctual punch. She wasn’t shouting out of strategy, but out of frustration, arguing with Miraak in the way only a Dov could. Her sharp eyes dug into his with the same hatred that he looked at her, but the animated way she steeled herself for his next move betrayed that she was equally exhilarated as him. While he had the experience over her to pummel her with his Thu’um, he couldn’t help but respect her as an equal.

[continued under the cut]

He never wanted the fight to end, but he knew he would eventually have to draw it to a close and slay the young Dovahkiin. The thought of losing the opportunity to keep around someone who mirrored himself, even as a rival, sent a sour pang through Miraak’s chest, but the threat of losing his millennia of planning and his freedom was too great. He had lived as the only Dragonborn, and he could continue to live that way.

For now, though, he was in control. Her lack of experience was reflected in the way she overexerted herself too quickly while he had been holding back. He could let this dance play out for a while longer. Her upper hand was in her magic, a skill Miraak had admittedly practiced little in during his imprisonment, but while powerful, she was sloppy, and was already starting to slip up and fail her casting. He, however, was as strong as he’d ever felt in Apocrypha.

Sahrotaar, the last of Miraak’s servants, circled above them. Miraak’s strength was not waning—it couldn’t, as far as he felt—but he was starting to tire of the fight. The younger Dragonborn’s growing carelessness as she threw increasingly hasty and brash spells his way disappointed him. She had shown so much promise, so much potential, but he had overestimated her. There was no point drawing this out anymore. He needed his freedom, and he needed her dead.

As Sahrotaar circled above Miraak, hovering so close Miraak could feel the heat of the dragon’s breath, the Dragonborn turned his head to the dragon, his longtime companion, and reeled back for a shout, “Sahrotaar, ziil-“

“GOL HAH DOV!”

The younger Dragonborn’s voice was growing hoarse, but the power behind it still shook Mirrak’s concentration for a moment, and something instantly changed in Sahrotaar’s usually vacant gaze.

“Krii Miraak!” she cried out.

Sahrotaar immediately swept down and knocked Miraak off his feet with a swift arc of the beast’s head, launching him across the arena. He landed harshly on his knee and was forced to brace himself on his elbows against the slick floor with a gasp as the wind left his lungs.

“VEN GAAR NOS!”

The other Dragonborn seized the opportunity while Miraak was down to throw him again against the far wall with a burst of wind. Before Miraak had even slammed to the floor, she threw a flurry of haphazard, but powerful spells at him. His vision was blinded with the flashes as they collided with his armor and singed his robes. She may be losing her battle, but she had not lost her determination.

His senses were screaming, but he managed to squeak out a desperate whisper, “wuld nah kest.”

Miraak was freed from the bombardment with a burst of wind, and the ache in his body forced him to pause as he hit the thick water of the pool in the center of the arena. He had rushed past the other Dragonborn and Sahrotaar, who was already descending on him. As the burning sensation of the spells faded, a different burning filled his core. How dare she! How dare she go against him. How dare she stand between him and the only thing he’d ever wanted. How dare Sahrotaar fall to her will so easily. How dare Hermaeus Mora teach her Bend Will. How dare that slimy bastard so easily give her something he forced Miraak to spend decades proving himself to acquire like some stupid child.

“SAHROTAAR, ZIIL LOS DII DU!” her roared, readying the deadliest spell he could manage across his fingertips, never taking his gaze off the other Dragonborn. In his peripheral vision, Sahrotaar’s body fell limp and disintegrated as the dragon’s soul flew into Miraak’s, energizing the man as the spell stirred even more powerful in his palm. The bitch in front of Miraak just stood in place, staring at him with what he was sure was an unseen mocking gaze behind her mask. He would relish in wiping it’s bloody remains across the walls of his temple.

But something suddenly changed. The burning was extinguished, and the spell died in his hand. In his core grew a sinking chill, which crawled up his spine to curse his head with a lightheadedness. It was as if he was floating—wait, was he? His feet no longer touched the ground.

"Did you think you could escape me, Miraak? You can hide nothing from me here.”

Hermaeus Mora’s sickening drawl filled his core with dread. And pain; excruciating pain that was now flooding his abdomen. It hammered at his skull, blurring the sights and sounds around him. Miraak doubled over, his mask tumbling off as he saw the tentacle protruding from his stomach, it’s mucous mixing with his blood.

“No matter. I have found a new Dragonborn to serve me."

So, this was it. All his preparations vanquished in an instant. Miraak knew there was no point struggling against Mora.

“May she… be… be rewarded for her service… as… I am," Miraak responded as thick liquid, he couldn’t tell what it was, tumbled from his mouth and garbled his speech.

“Oh, you nasty, sadistic…”

The other Dragonborn’s taunts, ones Miraak assumed were directed at him, became distant as the full feeling in his abdomen invaded his thoughts. He could hear the woman and the Daedric Prince go back and forth for a time, but the meaning of the words was too much for Miraak’s mind to concentrate on. He couldn’t even dwell on his failure in these last moments, only the invading feeling in his body. The one thing that could rip him from his daze was the harsh grasp of a smaller hand in his, paired with the swell of the noise around him and the slither of tentacles as they embraced him and dragged him into a Black Book.

---

The feeling of Nirn hit him harder than Mora could have ever; the crisp winter air in his lungs, the cold crunch of the snow settling below him, the bellow of some beast echoing in the distance, and the taste of bile and blood gathering in the back of his mouth. Each breath simultaneously refreshed his core and sent shocks of pain through his entire body and soul. As his eyes adjusted to the soft colors of Solstheim, for the first time taking in anything other than harsh greens and blacks, the sky above spilled with the soft colors of the northern lights and freckled stars.

He was laying down.

His sense of orientation, and pain, was returning as feeling returned to his body. He flexed his fingers in the snow beneath him, the crunching and crumbling between them bringing a sort of comfort to him he hadn’t felt since he was a young child. As he took deeper breaths, savoring every smell and taste of the clean mountain air, he almost choked on the dryness tickling his throat. He was used to the dank humidity of Apocrypha.

The soft crunch of footsteps through the snow grew louder in front of him; a noise he hadn’t heard in millennia. He wanted whoever it was to never stop approaching him. He didn’t even care who they were, for the moment. As soon as the other Dragonborn stopped in front of him, he felt differently. The pain in his abdomen came back to the forefront of his mind. She was a distraction from the distractions around him.

Her breath was labored, and her guard was down. She didn’t approach him with confidence, but with a staggered step and sagged shoulders. As she stopped at his feet, she pulled off her mask; a trophy from some long-dead dragon priest. Her expression was tired and sullen, and as she took in the sight of the man on the ground before her, it twisted into something like pain. Pity. Although his body and mind were too weak to feel anger, it did burn.

They stared at each other for a moment, able to see their opponent and fellow Dragonborn for the first time.

“Well,” was all Miraak managed to croak out. He didn’t understand why she brought him here. Was preventing that not the one thing she was in Apocrypha for?

She thought for a moment before sighing, “I don’t know—I don’t know why I brought you here. I just… I guess…” Her voice had been ravaged by the shouting of the fight, but she sounded choked up.

Miraak could feel the lightheadedness returning to his head as she continued to search for her words. The pain in his body was subsiding, but he knew that this wasn’t out of healing. This was the end. He remained silent but moved his gaze from the Dragonborn to the sky again. If he was going to die, he might as well make the most of those millennia he missed out on.

“I just wish we could’ve met in another context,” the other Dragonborn finally said, her gaze to the ground.

Miraak hummed in agreement. He knew he should be angrier about being bested, especially by someone so inexperienced, but he didn’t have the energy. All those plans of domination and power seemed so far away under Mundus’s vast stars anyway. At least he had escaped Hermaeus Mora’s grasp to see them one last time.

[dumb-dumb-mander]

Decided to do a... Carousel ? I think it's the term ? Of all my toons, even the ones I was keeping in my shelf to present later... !

Adiel !

Commander in one of the universe when Mikhail isn't. Adiel is serious and dedicated to following the Dream. However, behind her cold appearance, she is still compassionate and loving.

She is my main over my NA account and her outfit isn't her finished one, I "just" need to play on that account haaaaa My plan with her is that she'll end up in love with an Exalted, and would lose part of her body (too burned down) after Balthazard, which will end with her being part Exalted. I... Still need to deep dive into all the lore to come up with a good explanation but yeah.

She needs glasses

Mykealleax !

That strange fella is an enigma for anyone meeting them. Where are they coming from ? Who are they ? What are they ? What are their purposes and goal ? Nobody knows.

I don't have a lot to say about them, I did them over my NA on a whim when I was still very much into Elden Ring and thinking about an dragon!oc... Also to have a mesmer over that account jkregn He got his final outfit though !

Mikhail the Branded !

An AU of Mikhail where when he lost against Kralkatorrik, crushed by the guilt and grief to have lost Aurene and not be able to slay the Elder Dragon, instead of persevering right away, he went into the Mist to become stronger and find a world where he could save everyone. However, he became power-hungry, always seeking to become stronger until he forgot why he wanted to be stronger to begin with.

He is over my NA too and is named "Mikhail Lys B" until I got my hand on a character's name change thingy kgjnerg I'm also not satisfied with his current look, but I need to play for that─

Mikhail !

My main, the dumbass Sylvari Commander himself... ! One if not THE one I draw differently to how he looks in-game (his horns are branches of his first haircut, he got leaves with the vines on his head and he's a bit thicker)

I play him more than anybody else and it show fkezg Maybe for that reason too I cannot decide on a definitive outfit and cannot do a "outfit timeline" because I cannot decide

(Squeaky) Mikhail !

A light armor version of Mikhail that has the look of sapling Mikhail... An AU where Mikhail never becomes Commander, his body never changing because of the magic he absorbed, because he got burned by Balthazar. An innocent Mikhail who never fought the Elder Dragons, never experienced the lost and grief and everything. None of that.

He was made purely to have a toon with sapling Mikhail's look for possible screenshot purpose kjregn Also to have a mesmer on that account

Mirael !

My very, huh, active girl. Look at her face. She is innocent. Always happy to help !

Mannis !

My other, mh, very active one. He has two sisters (played by 2 friends) and is very playful and open what he likes and wants.

Callan Amalrik !

Amal' is coming from the Mist, from a world where Trahearne and Mikhail were able to make a child ; Callan Amalrik... !

Amal' definitively took the courage of their parents and the combativity of Mikhail. Amal' can be gentle and playful, but be fierce in combat. One of their bestie is a Largos.

Amal' is the first character I ever created to be genderfluid, which is a challenge for me, not gonna lie. They use all pronouns, just depending of their mood (for that reason they have 2 outfit, one more feminine, and one more masculine (the one in the screenshot)). They/them is the basic one to use. They use "Callan" when they feel more feminine, "Amalrik" when more masculine, and "Amal' " when in-between/none (which I use by default).

Jaal and Siham !

Twin coming from the union between Nikare, Kenut and Mikhail... !

Jaal is the twin who looks the most like a Largos ; strong, the fins well-developed and the hard look. However, he enjoys more his connection to his Sylvari genes, but he is afraid to break the expectations that Nikare and Kenut put on him...

Siham is energetic, kind and friendly, even though her health and body aren't the best. Her fins are broken, not strong enough to move correctly. She is often seen on her mount as her body got tired easily. However, she has that instinct to hunt and have trophies like Largos has, which Mikhail helped to redirect toward having strong pets and beasts. She is very good at it and enjoys her menageries... !

They are both extremely protective of each other and are absolutely ready to fight. They have strong fighters as parents after all.

[treefory]

Writing a Mao Mao fanfic and decided to draw a scene were he’s talking with his sister Burnhilde. (This isn’t really how the scene is described but it’s how I imagine it.)

“Mao Mao, over here!” A voice called out among the crowd. It was Burnhile sitting in a large tent waving him over.

Mao mao came over and sat with her. “ thank you for having me.” He said as he cleared his throat, trying to sound professional.

Burnhilde laughed and patted him on the back, jolting Mao Mao forward and almost making him spill his stew. “you don’t have to act so professional with me! Let’s just talk!”

Mao Mao relaxed, “ so uh, what were you doing before dad called?”

Burnhilde laid down on her back. “Ah nothing, to interesting. I had found a dragon terrorizing a village, so I slayed it. No biggie.”

“How big was it?” Mao mao mumbled as he ate his stew

“Not that big, only like a hundred meters tall.”

Mao Mao choked on his stew, “a hundred meters?! Since when did they get that big?”

Burhilde gave him a confused look. “They don’t get that big where your at? Wait, we’re do you live?”

Mao Mao finished his stew and set the empty bowl aside. “I live in the legendary valley of pure heart, we’re i and my colleagues are it’s protectors.” He said proudly

“Oh! I remember when dad told me about that place, he said it was nothing special.”

Mao Mao felt his pride shatter. That place was were his friends and people that needed him were, it was special!

“It is special! It has a huge ruby that protects the place.”

“Then why do you need to protect it then?”

“Huh, how long have you stayed there?”

“Eh, year and a half I think.”

“You’ve been there for a year and still have criminals running around? Me, personally, would have had them gone in a week.” She chuckled

Mao Mao felt his pride shatter even more.

Link to the fic👇

[faeriecinna]

WIP Questionnaire (2.0)

I was tagged a second time by @finchwrites, so I'll do this for my second WIP too.

Project.Ink

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

As I mentioned in this post, as someone from an Irish family, I wanted to write a novel that paid homage to our folklore, so I decided to mess with the general concept of a 'changeling'. Rowan came to be when I tried to think up a character that was a faerie who, for some reason, believed they were a human - and the rest followed.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

Not so much a theme song, but Rowan and Killeen's song is definitely Dying Star by Ashnikko and Ethel Cain. I'd probably have it playing in the background when Killeen realises who Rowan actually is to her.

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

Rowan was the first character I created for this story so I do have a soft spot for her in my heart, but because I knew I wanted this to be a queer story, when I created Killeen I basically just turned my ideal woman into a lesbian fae warrior so??? of course I would die for her?? Plus being The Inquisitor for The Sidhe Court is kind of a slay, no?

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

Never read it, but from what I've heard I can only assume ACOTAR peeps would be into it. If anyone has ever watched Zone Blanche/The Black Spot (spooky french supernatural murder drama), that is EXACTLY the vibe I'm going for - just Irish (and if you haven't watched it you should).

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

There are two parallel storylines in the story - Rowan's storyline when she is taken into the Fae realm, and the second storyline that follows the aftermath in her small town when her parents report her missing. I struggle a fair bit with actually writing the aforementioned second storyline because I get so caught up with all the lesbian dumbassery that I forget there is in fact a second layer to my plot.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Crows, ravens and other corvids are ALWAYS a motif in my stories. The Sidhe also have a strong supernatural connection to the flora and fauna so not only are there several different kinds of forest dwelling animals in the story, but most of the characters can communicate with them!

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

Honestly for a fantasy book my setting/map is rather small so most of the travel is done by foot. I guess there'll probably be a few police cars involved and maybe some kind of sailboat at some point lmao

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

In the earlier stages of the first draft atm. I started this as a passion project only about 6 months ago even though I had the plot idea for a couple of years.

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

Queer fae. Need I say more? Also I'm hoping the fact that there are a lot more spooky/horror elements to this story, as opposed to a lot of faerie narratives, will interest people. It's all going to be set in Ireland as well so that's another demographic that I hope will enjoy it!

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

It's a queer story where the characters are just... queer.... and in love... there's no homophobia, no "I'm gay and that's okay and normal!", no having to come out - it just is right from the get go, a gay story about gay girls being gay without that being the focal point of the narrative - so I hope that if it ever gets published, it'll be a book that queer people can go to when they need a spooky gay fantasy without any of the trauma and alienation that we feel as queer people irl. I hope people connect to the story and take some comfort in the darkness.

And I'm gonna tag @sleepywriter00 @akiwitch and @eccaiia

(blank under the cut)

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

[qibsichan]

55 BOOKMARKS :0

According to the poll… you want a longer fic going to 1995.

Okay! Planning time! As of now, Smaller Bodies is 88k words. I’m gonna try to round it off to 100k, though this may a little hard because I still have to get Catnap… apprehended.

Then?

New series, same universe.

Destroy-A-Toy starts when the world ends.

My writing’s currently stunted because of Art Fight, but I’m still writing, just slower. Several people mentioned to me that Sugar Breath takes a different approach to the other stories, in which case, thanks! :D Most of it’s been told from Catnap’s POV, but I wanted to check out how the other Critters perceive her.

I might write one-shots to do with more Theo and Ollie because I love those two BUT. As MrMateusz says: TheoNap.

In no order, here’s my list of cryptic stuff to work on:

Get Smaller Bodies to 100k words

“And Then We All Fell (Silent)”

Pre-Hour of Joy

VERY depressed Dogday

Another cat and dog

Gender phone call + enby pook

SHE’S GRANTING US VISIONS!!

*sprays Theodore Grambell with water*

Umm why is he drawing Harley Sawyer getting his legs ripped off…?

Collect my friends’/fan’s OCs for reasons

Write the dramatic scenes to Edda Hayes music 👇

“Don’t need a knight to guard the cave, can’t count the dragons that I’ve slayed

You can give it all you’ve got

‘Cause love is running through my veins, this lion can’t be tamed

There’s fire in my blood

There’s fire in my blood…

BURN.”

…

And finally, let me just say…

Smaller Bodies is the 1991 half.

Destroy-A-Toy is 1995.

💜💛🔥