#his expressions and body language are on point

[dollbrbie]

♡ ⸝⸝ RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

featuring. criminal!sukuna | smut mdni

criminal!sukuna who is definitely way too protective over you, always keeping his eyes on you even if you’re a couple steps away and glaring at anyone who comes what he thinks is too close.

criminal!sukuna who has serious jealousy problems that could probably be labelled as a red flag, but he chalks it up to his ‘possessive nature.’

criminal!sukuna who definitely doesn’t look it, but is such a loverboy when it comes to you, never thinking of another women ever when he’s with you and especially when he’s not.

criminal!sukuna who isn’t always the best at expressing himself in the softest or sweetest way, but always tries for you despite the redness on his cheeks and the furrow of his brows that follow.

criminal!sukuna who refuses to get you involved with the shit he does, always keeping you away from it despite your constant questions and worries.

criminal!sukuna who’s love language is physical touch, always having one of his calloused, tattooed hands somewhere on your body, calling you delusional whenever you point it out.

criminal!sukuna who is still not liked by your parents despite being in your life for years and always trying his absolute hardest to be nice to them to counter their side comments and bad opinions on him.

criminal!sukuna who doesn’t even care about it anymore, knowing they’ll never sway your opinion on him, smirking to himself whenever you set it straight for them.

criminal!sukuna who doesn’t have much of a social media presence, his account having no profile picture and usually zero posts, but whenever he does post, it’s of you.

criminal!sukuna who is so versatile in bed, giving you the soft, gentle sex you want as well as the rough, dirty sex you crave.

criminal!sukuna who genuinely has so many kinks and is always wanting to try out new things with you.

criminal!sukuna who absolutely loves when you sit on his face, his hands gripping on the plush of your thighs as he buries his face deep into your pussy, his nose brushing past your clit as his tongue spells his name against your needy hole.

criminal!sukuna who’s sex drive is definitely way too high.

criminal!sukuna who just can’t help but get turned on by his pretty girlfriend no matter where you are or what it is you’re wearing - he always finds you so beautiful.

criminal!sukuna who got your name tattooed on his bicep a week after you got back together, debating whether or not to get your initial tattooed on his dick before your insistence that he doesn’t.

criminal!sukuna who is such a passionate lover, always giving you everything he’s got to give even if it’s not much and promising you that one day, he will give you the world.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[saoirseyun]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 IT'S ALL ABOUT— bsd men and their love languages

— TOUCH. Dazai Osamu who finds most of every spent minutes together are delicate and priceless by all those scintilla caresses as the feeling of warmth provided by held hands and or even a gentle embrace. The poor detective's covered in bandages from top to bottom, cut him some slack for this, will you? For all you know he's barely received affectionate gestures from anyone at all... It's not like he's ever told you, though. As long as you do appreciate his hands on you, it's a two-way. He looks cute doing it with you too—what a plus.

— WORDS. Kunikida Doppo who asserts every little compliment and mini 'I love yous' times of the day to the point it becomes often and as your own hidden proposal of affection. Who also offers affirmations and loveable sweet ease from the depths of his heart to you—his beloved, his precious—just whenever you need it! How Kunikida Doppo knows exact what to murmur in your ears during a dark place in your life, whether or not the feeling of safety was enough to prove his attentiveness... That's on you to decide.

— PRESENCE. Nakahara Chuuya who's preference is to enjoy none but your body next to his doing anything being active such as watching a random show on TV or complete mundane task around the place when (for once) there's extra time to spare. Of all things considered, he likes to ensure that the both of you two are with each other in a state of pure fluff and solace, safe in those arms and feeling blessed in loved. Nakahara Chuuya who prepares dates and or planned events to attend with you in advance when he has the chance to, after all. You deserve every single second of his time... Now if only he can actually do give it to you 24/7.

— GIFTS. Dostoevsky Fyodor who can and will be gladly to spend a whole wallet's worth for those abundant requests and things you'd want and would even beg for after a day's long worth at the Decay of Angels. Whenever he'd return back to you from another country, he has a whole stuffed bags filled to the brim with sweet souvenirs or attractive new clothes—whatever you do expect for him to get at the malls or fancy shopping districts—don't worry your head! Fyodor will be sure to buy it.

— SERVICE. Suehiro Tetchou who isn't ideally the biggest spoken hopeless romanticist but consider for one that actions speak louder than words—and he believes that! Suehiro Tetchou who finds the affection of talk difficult to maneuver; which why's he fetches you your fresh coffee and foods or assist in whatever work was needed done instead. Which why's he comes to be honest so intimate, lovingly, adorable with every sense of muted words. Suehiro Tetchou who prefers to express his own take on affection by pure reaction, an untold language compared from those usual verbalized acts.

( source ) divider by @ cafekitsune

[jinuaei]

imagine the whole yandere Soundwave thing but we force the visions to go to us spiking him? please? is it bad i really wanna see him get all flustered, and sensitive, breaking for us?

maybe that's how we catch him and we just have to do something to him?

I assume this is a Yandere! Soundwave x Cybertronian! Reader based on the 'spiking him' part!

Warning: Valveplug!!!

It was a slip of the glossa, a small comment from Starscream about Soundwave being able to hear thoughts and project them that caused you to think deeper about your fantasies, if it even were yours.

You think about the times when those visions are always more intense and clearer every time Soundwave is near, or when you’ve started to think about him more and more when you didn’t even have a crush on him originally. But ever since the first time you’ve ever gotten those thoughts, you’ve been thinking non-stop about him, to the point where even you know it’s not healthy. 

But that comment, Starscream’s words about Soundwave having the ability to send his thoughts to you keeps ringing inside your processor. Doubt creeps through about whether those fantasies are yours in the first place, especially with how detailed it is. The final nail in the coffin was you knowing what he looks like underneath his visor and mask, and you know it is him as your thoughts — Was it even yours to begin with? — Wants you to believe that it is.

So you come up with a plan, to either catch him, or deem yourself as a pervert. 

The next time you meet Soundwave is during a meeting, although you did not commence your plan until near the end of it where Megatron and Starscream are doing their sass match every meeting. You stare at Soundwave, face blank and focused on his body language. 

Of course, Soundwave cannot help but stare back, how can he not? It’s you! With your beautiful optics and amazing frame, it’s impossible not to look at you! Maybe he should listen in on you to see what you were thinking—

Soundwave’s frame freezes as an image of him on his back rolls through, his valve taking your spike to the hilt.  It was subtle, but enough to confirm your theory of him being the actual pervert that has been actively tormenting you with his fantasies. Of course, you would have your revenge.

Soundwave looks at you with bewilderment behind his mask and he sees your expression change into realization. That’s when he realizes he messed up badly, and he can’t leave the room until his boss and co-worker are done with their hissy fits. Your optics darken in delight and you prepare to torment him until the meeting is over.

The image comes back full charge as he is now against the wall getting railed by you. A small whimper tries to come out from his intake but he swallows it down successfully. This torment goes on far longer than he wanted — that’s a lie, he quite enjoys the fact that you would use him like that, like a toy just for your pleasure. He could hear it, even feel it as your spike hits his ceiling node over and over and over. Deliciously sloppy.

Soundwave feels himself grow faint with pleasure, and the subtle dripping of his lubricant is enough to snap him out of his pleasured haze. He can feel it ooze out of the cracks in his panels and on to the seat, he hopes nobody would see it and know it was him.

The longer the meeting goes, the more he feels his overload rises. He feels ashamed at the fact that he’s going to overload untouched and just by your fantasies, he thinks of it as unfair but also so arousing at the same time. Soundwave tries to fight back by steering the visions in another direction but he folds so quickly it;’s almost pathetic.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Starscream and Megatron are done with their verbal match so Soundwave rushes out as soon as the meeting is over, but you are not satisfied. You follow behind him of course and you see his legs shake with every step, and you swear you can also see something glisten between it. His shaky pedes carry him to his destination — his own private quarters. Perfect.

You sneak in behind him before the doors of his berthroom closes, unnoticed since he is too busy rubbing his anterior node. Soundwave flops on his berth, faceplate first, back arched, and aft raised. His servos move lower to poke his valve, drenched in lubricant, he whispers your designation with a whine as his digits finally slipped inside.

“So it’s you…” you said, amused.

Your voice startles him, twisting his frame to look at you, his EM field explodes with shame. He tries to sit up properly but you quickly press down on his pelvis and he lets you. He knew you would be angry, he did, but he cannot deny the shiver of delight when you narrowed your optics at him.

“Was it you who’s been sending those…visions?”

He pauses for a moment, trying to gauge your reaction, “...Affirmative,” and he concludes that he likes it when your glare turns into a smirk.

“Soundy~” he whimpers as his designation is called out, “Did you really expect me not to know?”

He shook his head in denial, pelvis twitching when your servos started to roam his frame.

“Negative. Soundwave: Expected to get caught.”

“Did you now? Did you have some kind of plan when you did?”

Soundwaves in-vent heavily when your servos catch his anterior node, rubbing it gently. He cannot believe what is happening, to think that his fantasies are becoming true right in front of his optics, it feels like a dream, but it’s not, it's real!

“Soundy?”

“A-affirmative.”

He did have a plan. He was going to explain to you why he has been doing it, how much he loves you and what his plan was going forward. What he didn’t account for was you catching him before he was ready to enact his plan, to think that you knew that he was the one that didn’t but he didn’t know that you knew even when he has been monitoring you so closely he knows your whole schedule and everything. To think that you deceived him like a true Decepticon and caught him red handed but…

“This is better.”

The mask and visor that covers his faceplate retracts to show you what he currently feels, faceplate flushed, optics wide open, staring at you in awe and reverence, intake venting hot air which you can feel on your hot frame. His own frame isn’t doing any better, he himself shaking and overheating from your touch. 

You only smile in return as you position yourself in between his legs, your own array on display. He recalls the vision from earlier and he gulps down the coolant that threatens to escape his intake.

“Mmmmhh… you do know you’re projecting those perverted thoughts of yours again, don’t you, Soundy?”

“Apologieeeess–ah!”

He was not prepared for you to suddenly spike him, causing his helm to look down at where you are both connected. The moan that comes out from his intake was so lewd and so debauched that you pulled him closer to you, spike now buried deep inside him.

“And so this is your punishment,” you tilt your helm innocently as if you are not deep inside him, “do you like it?”

“Love it, love it so muhh—!”

You snap your hips once, twice, and it was enough to silence Soundwave. Pleasure spread across his frame and he almost cried with how good you felt, and this time, it’s real.

“You–” Another thrust of your hips causes him to grip your arms for dear life, “have been so naughty, but I can’t deny you when you’re like this.”

You bend down to his audial receptors to whisper the next part, “Which is why I’ll be fragging you the same way the fantasy me has been. What do you say about that, hm?”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you…!”

“So polite…”

With that, you thrust into him with all your might, him whimpering at how rough you’re handling him. It would be a lie to say you weren’t angry at his deception, especially when you felt so embarrassed every time you’ve been ‘thinking’ about him. So you let out all that pent up anger by railing him hard and rough until you feel like forgiving him.

For now, you’ll enjoy his bare fucked out face and his sweet, tight valve. Maybe you’ll also grace him by playing his spike.

[bleedingichorhearts]

Can you write some relationship headcanons for Khorne?

𝐊𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

“Killin’ two in one. Khorne would be proud. :D Was falling asleep doing this, lol.” - Ichor

Summary - "Smut & Normal headcanons for Khrone."

TW // Smut, Teratophilia.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫: Khorne

"Though the gates that stand between the mortal world and the immortal Realm of Chaos are now closed to me, still I would rather die having glimpsed eternity than never to have stirred from the cold furrow of mortal life. I embrace death without regret as I have embraced life without fear." - Kargos Bloodspitter, Champion of Khorne

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜/𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜:

This god… where to start? Ah, grumpy. He’s a grumpy/gruff type. He’s always the mood sourer to rain upon your sunshine filled days. He will tell you that you look astonishing when you need it, but will he say anything about it when you look normal? No. It’s not a big deal to him to see what you’re dressed up in. You could go bare and he would care less until other matters come into play…

He maybe grumpy, but I can see him being a rather good gentleman as well. Maybe it’s because he’s the first Chaos god, and he looks rather calm upon his throne in the art’s of him. Either way, he’ll open a door for you when needed. He’ll hunt for you if needed, and give you a compliment when you need it, not because you want it. He doesn’t like dealing with brats, especially Slannesh.

Fights for you, and/or sends minions in his place to protect you as you are highly valued considering your by a gods’ side, and on good terms with one too. Sticking with the Khorne however, he fights for you, and that is quite a rare sight. I mean, not many would want to pick a fight with a god. A practical war god at that too. That would just be carelessly dumb, but there are a few who try and test his mettle.

He likes to keep you close, and the bullet point above is one of those reasons why. You’re valuable to him. You can be used against him, and he rather not experience that sort of situation despite his eternal age. Another reason why he would not like a brat that simply shrugs him off as they do not know the horrors of this world… He’s keeping you safe, remember that.

His kisses are surprisingly soft and full of tongue. The more affectionate kisses could be gentle nuzzles into your neck, cheek, forehead and the top of your head. The ones filled with tongue? Are a bit messy as he likes to taste a bit of your skin and mark you up with his saliva, but it’s also a very heated act. He doesn’t do any types of kissing often, but if needed. It would be a private matter.

He saying “I love you” would take a millennium for you to hear. He’s not one to really express himself with words, more so on actions. So, don’t really expect him to be anywhere near talkative, but do expect a little bit of gift-giving and active body language here and there. Mostly privately. He has a deadly reputation to uphold.

His influence upon you isn’t actually forced, nor strong. He wants a willing partner, not some drunk-dazed one. He likes not extorting his power in order to sway you for he could save it for the battles that are always making him hunger. Sure, he’ll entertain you here and there of what he can do, but that’s about it. No fancy tricks, words or pretty display, that’s Tzeentchs’ deal. However, he does like to show himself off.

He isn’t one to get jealous, not in a millennia- or maybe half of one. I’d say this because there are times where he has gotten jealous, but he is not irrational about it. Well, maybe if there was another lover in the way, but still. He’s rather… collected. Thinks it through before acting upon what his instincts or impulses say. Though, I wouldn’t tease him about it for being jealous and/or trying to make him jealous. He thinks that is also bratty behavior. He just wants a loyal partner for his age.

His lap is one of the places that you can find yourself on most of the time. Need to talk to him? Lap. Need affection? Lap. Rest? Lap. Need to vent your frustrations that he will take actions onto later? Lap. This works out rather well between the two of you. Especially when he manifests as big or a smaller, yet still bigger figure for you. It’s your own little time to gather your social needs.

If death had taken you, may another god have mercy because he would not. The whole realm changes to immediate hate, anger and a hint of despair. The god is less merciful the before, not even offering such a grace anymore. His attacks, power and minions more ruthless than ever, and considering he’s a god? This can last however long he wants to. On the more sappy side, he keeps your skull on himself personally or on a special spot upon his throne, and your soul? It’s stored safely away. Though, some rumor he keeps your soul inside of himself, keeping you close like he always has.

𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥/𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭:

Private lover, definitely. No gangbangs and no sharing. He thinks that’s Slaanesh whole odeal, and it is. He just wants nothing to do with that pitiful creature of a god. His wants a loyal love all to himself, for him to treasure and cherish. He wants nothing like what that foul god has, nothing.

Blood and blood marking. He loves to see blood staining the soft flesh your skin. Whether it would be yours, his or anyone else’s. He finds it incredibly attractive and a bit satisfying to see the blood trickle between the pores of your skin. For blood marking? He’s using his own ichor for that. Using it to put symbols of himself on your body while pleasuring you. Telling others that you belong to him and only him.

This god definitely plays the dominance role. There is no doubt about it. He is the bigger one here, and he takes absolute advantage of it. His talon-like gauntlets holding both of your hands together above you with only one of his own. His other gauntlet? Is at your waist, keeping you in place while he takes and gives you the pleasure you had graced him with.

Would cage you up. Wrap you up on some pretty rope, and this can go two ways. Either he will overstimulate you or leave you on edge for your behavior. Mostly to overstimulate you. To worship your soft skin compared to his own body. To leave you a mess, that you can’t even breathe without him. That you would have to wither within or below his grasp. The edging is for your more bratty behavior.

Being a brat can also put you in many different situations, but if he did have a bratty lover? He would straighten them up quick. He’s merciless about it too until you get it through your thick head that he will not deal with your shit. Don’t test him for he will test you for long he can leave you on the edge for. He has the patience, but you do not have the lifetime to fill that, and to make it tip and fall.

His long tongue works wonders with you. Always curling down deep into your depths in all the right places. Reaching where nothing else humane could. Claiming you like a god, like a monster should. Only using one gauntlet to keep you held down while he takes his fill of you. Eating you out or claiming your throat as well. He is not shy on the subjects surprisingly.

Definitely cockwarms you. Even for just the casual stuff. He just wants to feel your warmth around him, by mouth or core. To feel the nerves of you struggling to take him. To expand around him. It’s one of the reasons he doesn’t do it often enough that you get used to him because he wants to see you struggling to take him.

His throne is one of the top things to have something devious to happen upon it. Cockwarming, many positions of sex upon it. Worshiping. You name it. It maybe a throne of skulls and blood, but it’s also a… symbol of devotion. A great one too. It’s also one of the reasons he likes you being on his lap. For easier access to you.

The man definitely has his rough days, mostly when things are not going to plan and needs to vent out his frustrations, and that when you come in. The perfect little lover for him to absolutely destroy. His talon-like gauntlets wrapping around your waist and hips as he takes what he wants. His breath hot on the back of your skin as his pace is brutal and bruising. Nothing is stopping him until you mutter those precious safe words, but until then? You are his to use.

He maybe rough, but he is also soft. One would be lucky if he was still in the mood after absolutely rocking your shit. To feel how he carefully curls around you, nuzzling into the back of your neck. Listening to your soft moans while he has one of your bruised legs lifted, thrusting slowly in and out of you. Giving you more of a proper pleasure for the both of you instead of just using you and taking you as he pleases.

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000, @passionofthesith, @insanity6666.” - Tagged

[kckt88]

Imzadi VII

Summary:

Aemond finds new allies and the seven kingdoms rejoice as the new King and Queen are crowned.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V, Rough Sex, Semi Public Sex, Knotting, Mentions of Death, Blood, Violence, Conspiracy & Aegon is a Drunken Idiot.

AEMOND x O.C NIECE

ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA DYNAMIC

Word Count: 8414

A.N - 'Imzadi - Beloved'

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @zenka69 @aemondsbabygirl @aphroditesblunt @iamtoriasworld @persephonerinyes

Aemond thundered through the corridors of the Red Keep like a man possessed, the air around him heavy with fury. His fists clenched, his gait relentless, and behind him trailed Lucaera, and Aegon.

“Aemond, please—don’t do this!” Lucaera begged, grabbing his arm, her voice tight with panic.

But he shook her off with a low, animalistic snarl, the Alpha Prime inside him fully unchained, feral and pulsing with rage.

The audacity. The violation. Someone had dared to lay hands on his Omega.

He soon reached a heavy wooden door—and pounded his fist against it hard enough that the frame rattled.

There was a beat of silence and then from the other side then the sounds of a muffled string of curses.

The door slowly creaked open—and there stood Daemon, shirtless, his silver hair a tangled mess, and a sheen of sweat across his chest.

In the bed behind him, Rhaenyra sat up, quickly pulling the sheets around her bare body.

Lucaera wrinkled her nose as she realised what her mother and stepfather had obviously been doing before, they were interrupted.

Aegon burst out laughing. “Well-this is awkward.”

Aemond didn’t say a word as he clenched his fist punched Daemon in the face.

The force sent Daemon stumbling back, a snarl ripping from his throat.

Before anyone could blink, the two men were tangled in a violent brawl—fists flying, with snarls and growls echoing through the chamber as they crashed into furniture and dragged each other across the floor.

“AEMOND, STOP!” Lucaera screamed, yanking at his leather tunic, but it was a futile gesture.

The strength of an Alpha Prime far outmatched her own.

“I SWEAR—IF IT WAS YOU—I’LL KILL YOU!” Aemond roared, one hand around Daemon’s throat.

Lucaera turned desperately to Aegon. “Help me!”

Aegon blinked at her, then spotted a jug of wine. “Best let him get it out of his system. Ooh, wine. You don’t mind, do you, sister?” he asked as he poured himself a goblet and slumped into a nearby chair, swirling the liquid lazily as he watched Aemond and Daemon fighting.

Lucaera turned to her mother—Rhaenyra still in bed, the covers clutched to her chin, her expression torn between horror and exasperation.

Then Lucaera did the only thing she could think of. She let out a distressed whine.

Aemond froze mid-strike, his hand still raised, his Alpha Prime instincts reacting instantly to his distressed mate. His grip on Daemon loosened slightly—

—and Daemon used the momentary distraction and slammed his fist into the scarred side of Aemond’s face.

Aemond howled in pain and fell to the side, clutching his face.

“AEMOND!” Lucaera cried, rushing to him. She dropped to her knees, cradling his head in her hands, his body trembling with pain and fury.

Rhaenyra, now fumbling with her robe, shouted, “What in the seven hells is-Aegon, avert your eyes, you filthy wretch!”

Aegon only snorted and sipped his wine. “Bit late for that sister-”

Daemon hauled himself to his feet and strode to the bed, yanking Dark Sister—from its scabbard. He turned and pointed it at Aemond.

“Kepa daor!” Lucaera snapped, rising between them, her voice cutting the air (Father, no).

Daemon raised a brow. “Sīr ziry iksos kepa arlī iksis ziry?” (So, it’s father again, is it?).

Lucaera turned to her mother. “Muña, kostilus-” (Mother, please).

Rhaenyra, finally covered, stepped forward and pressed a hand to Daemon’s arm. “Ñuha jorrāelagon, keligon” (My love, stop).

Daemon looked ready to argue, but the weight of Rhaenyra’s gaze tempered him. He did however make sure to jab Aemond in the chest with the tip of Dark Sister—just enough to sting—then tossed the blade onto the bed.

Aemond with the help of Lucaera staggered upright, face tight with pain, eye locked onto Daemon.

Rhaenyra turned to him; arms crossed. “Now. What in the seven hells is this about?”

Aemond tore off his eyepatch. The sapphire glinted coldly in the candlelight, and Rhaenyra faltered at the sight before steeling herself again.

“I want your shit of a husband,” Aemond growled, “to look me in the eye and tell me that he had nothing to do with the attempt on my life and the kidnapping of my Omega.”

Rhaenyra gasped. “What?” She whirled on Daemon, who raised his hands defensively.

“It wasn’t me,” he said quickly. “I swear. Ñuha idaña perzys-” (My twin flame).

Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes at Daemon for a moment before she nodded and turned back to Aemond. “Tell me everything”

Despite the throbbing ache in his eye socket, Aemond recounted it all—the proposed attempt on his life, Lucaera being taken, the rescue and how the attackers had claimed they acted on Daemon’s orders.

Daemon scoffed loudly, his arms crossed. “And you believed them-that I would stoop so low?”

Lucaera stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “He had his reasons. But, after careful consideration, we know now you weren’t behind it.”

Daemon grunted. “Let me guess. That green Hightower cunt?”

Aemond and Lucaera exchanged a look.

Daemon barked a laugh. “So, the withered old fuck’s gotten more ambitious. Let me guess—because you’re not easily manipulated, Otto thought he could force your hand by other means?”

Rhaenyra moved toward her daughter. “Did they hurt you, my sweet girl?”

Lucaera took a step forward—but Aemond grabbed her hand and tugged her gently but firmly behind him. He growled low in his throat.

Lucaera met her mother’s eyes. “No, Mother. I’m fine. Aegon saved me-”

Daemon snorted and looked at Aegon, who was slouched in the chair, halfway through the jug of wine. “That drunken whore?”

Aegon rolled his eyes. “I may be a drunken whore Uncle, but at least I have eyebrows-”

Aemond growled and Aegon gave him the middle finger before he resumed his drinking.

Rhaenyra glanced between them all. “So, Otto’s responsible-”

Lucaera nodded. “Larys Strong is involved as well.”

Daemon sneered. “The Clubfoot and the Cunt, conspiring against the crown. Why am I not surprised?”

Rhaenyra turned to Aemond, her voice laced with an almost mocking sweetness. “Well then, Your Grace—what do you intend to do about this?”

The sarcasm in her tone hit like a slap—but Aemond didn’t flinch.

He took a deep breath. Daemon and Rhaenyra, they were his kin—and they were dragons. And it was far better to fly with dragons than to burn beneath them.

“I intend to make my grandsire, and that fucking toad pay for their treachery- and no doubt there will be others, but I can’t do it alone-”

Rhaenyra exchanged a look with Daemon who nodded she then stepped forward and held out her hand.

Aemond stared at it for a long moment, and he felt Lucaera press closer to him.

Then, slowly, he took it.

Together, they would rip the traitors from the Red Keep—root and stem.

Aemond’s low growl rumbled again, but Rhaenyra ignored it entirely. With quiet determination, she stepped forward and gently cupped Lucaera’s face in her hands, her thumb brushing softly over her cheek.

“My girl,” she whispered. “I have missed you.”

Lucaera’s eyes welled. She looked into her mother’s face and barely found her voice. “Gaomagon ao vēdros nyke, muña?” (Do you hate me, mother?)

Rhaenyra’s expression broke into a tender, almost pained smile as she tucked a loose strand of Lucaera’s dark hair behind her ear. “Dōrī ñuha dōna riña, kesan va moriot jorrāelagon ao.” (Never, my sweet girl. I will always love you.)

Lucaera swallowed. “Then why didn’t you come to my wedding?”

A flicker of tension passed between Rhaenyra and Daemon. They exchanged a look before Rhaenyra said softly, “We were never asked.”

“But I did write you a letter,” Lucaera said, eyes wide with confusion.

Rhaenyra shook her head. “I never received a letter.” She leaned closer, her voice warm but firm. “Lucy- look into my eyes. See the truth. I’ll admit I was hurt by your decision to align yourself with my brother. But I would have come to your wedding. Strife or not.”

Lucaera searched her mother’s violet gaze—and there, she found no deceit. Only pain, and love.

Turning to Aemond, she said quietly, “My letters. I gave them to Maester Orwyle. He said he’d sent them.”

Aemond sighed, lips curling in bitter understanding. “Another whose interests align with my grandsire. I dare say your letters were tossed into the fire the moment he had the chance.”

“But why?” Lucaera murmured.

Before Aemond could answer, Aegon rose from his chair, wine sloshing dangerously in his goblet. “Isn’t it obvious, good sister?” he slurred, voice drunken but disturbingly clear. “Our grandsire saw to it that you were isolated from your family. No one left to turn to. Just us. Makes you to control”.

Lucaera scowled. “I’m not a thing to be controlled.”

Aegon huffed a drunken laugh. “No, but like me and everyone else in this fucked up family you’re a piece to be moved about the board. For someone else’s gain.”

Aemond stepped forward, jaw tight. “I think you’ve had enough wine.”

Aegon spun slightly, pointing his cup at him. “Not nearly enough, brother. Why don’t you tell our sister how she was never going to be Queen? That our grandsire’s been scheming since my birth to crown me instead. Until, of course, you presented as Alpha Prime, and—poof!—suddenly your claim took precedence over mine.”

Lucaera turned sharply to Aemond, stunned. “What is he talking about?”

Aemond’s eye flickered. “Nothing. He’s drunk. A cur.”

“I am,” Aegon said with a shrug, “but I speak truth. That slippery old cunt—what was it used to say? ‘It wouldn’t matter if she were Jaehaerys himself reborn.’ He was never going to let a woman sit the Iron Throne.”

Daemon snarled lowly. “Not his decision.”

Aegon belched. “Isn’t it, though? He’s been whispering in noble ears for years. You should’ve seen him the day Aemond presented as Alpha Prime—almost pissed himself in excitement. And when he took the only Omega to mate?” He gave a drunken flourish toward Lucaera. “An undeniable claim to the Iron Throne. No Beta woman could ever contest that. Not even the named heir.”

Lucaera shoved Aemond in the chest, her expression full of betrayal. “You knew.”

But before Aemond could answer Daemon interrupted with a dry snort. “The whole fucking realm knew. The cunt wasn’t exactly subtle.”

Lucaera turned back to Aemond, her voice shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Aemond sighed, jaw clenched. “Because I wished to spare you from it.”

Rhaenyra’s face was pale. “So, I was never going to be Queen.”

Aegon took another sip, expression grim. “Not if my grandsire had anything to do with it.”

Rhaenyra’s voice hardened. “Alicent. Did she know?”

Daemon scoffed. “Of course she did.”

Aemond shook his head. “Not at first. It was only after I presented that my grandsire grew bolder.”

“What does it matter?” Aegon muttered. “He told her you’d kill us all to secure your claim.”

“I would never see harm come to any of you,” Rhaenyra snapped, her eyes flashing.

Aemond scoffed. “Just like you never insisted I be ‘sharply questioned’ to learn where I heard slanders against your children? Don’t lie to me, sister. It’s unbecoming.”

Rhaenyra’s face fell. “Mayhaps I was mistaken to use such words. But I would never see your lives forfeit. I am no kinslayer.”

Aegon laughed and staggered forward, wrapping a clumsy arm around Rhaenyra’s shoulders. “AHA! Knew it was all piss. You’re not so bad after all, sister.”

Daemon’s eyes darkened. He growled and shoved Aegon back. “Keep your hands to yourself, or I’ll see you lose them.”

Aegon giggled. “Somebody’s cunt-struck.”

Daemon took a step forward, but Rhaenyra raised a hand. “He’s drunk. The wine’s addled his mind.”

Aemond rolled his eye. “Not really. He’s like that when he’s sober too.”

Lucaera held up her hands. “Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. You’ve all agreed to work together. Digging up past grievances won’t help.”

Daemon gave her a sardonic glance. “What do you suggest? We all hold hands and dance around in a circle?”

Lucaera snapped, “Don’t be a cunt.”

Daemon blinked, then smirked—equal parts surprised and impressed.

Rhaenyra stepped forward. “So, what do we need to do?”

Lucaera took a deep breath. “As much as you may not like it, you need to accept Aemond as k=King. And that goes for you too father.”

Daemon’s face twisted into a scowl, but then he nodded slowly. “Concessions will need to be made. I won’t have my wife, or our children cast aside.”

Aemond stepped forward. “I’m sure we can make an agreement that benefits us all.”

Rhaenyra raised her chin. “I want possession of Dragonstone. And Jace, as my heir, will inherit it after me. Luke will be confirmed as heir to Driftmark. My sons with Daemon will be granted positions of high honour at court.”

Daemon opened his mouth, but Aemond raised a hand. “-Don’t worry, uncle. They won’t be carrying shields and cups.”

Lucaera huffed a laugh. Daemon shot her a glare, and she shrugged. “Private joke.”

Rhaenyra stared Aemond down. “Those are my terms, brother.”

Aemond turned to Lucaera. She squeezed his hand. Through their bond, he felt her relief, her hope, and her understanding.

Aemond looked back at Rhaenyra. “I accept your terms sister.”

Aegon, swaying on unsteady feet and slurring through a dazed grin, raised his empty goblet high. “So, what happens now?” he asked no one in particular.

Daemon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You go to bed and sleep off the wine.”

“Excellent idea, Uncle,” Aegon beamed, turning on his heel and making straight for the bed Rhaenyra had not long vacated.

But before he could throw himself into the covers, Daemon grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back.

“Not in our bed, you fool.”

Aegon whined as he stumbled. “But why not? Maybe we could indulge in a cheeky threesome—I've always found you pretty, sister—”

Daemon’s growl rumbled low and dangerous.

“Fine, you're pretty too, Uncle,” Aegon added with a lecherous wink.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes and turned to Aemond. “You need to deal with our brother.”

Aemond exhaled sharply and crossed the room, grabbing Aegon by the back of his tunic and dragging him away from Daemon’s increasingly murderous glare. “I’m about to be crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms, and still I’m forced to deal with this wastrel.”

Aegon sagged heavily against Aemond’s taller frame. “You know, brother,” he mumbled with a drunken smile, “You’re a fine-looking man.”

Aemond shoved him into a chair with a groan and muttered, “I’ll deal with him in a moment-But we need to figure out what happens next.”

Daemon stepped forward, all seriousness now. “That’s simple. You keep this quiet. No one outside this room can know what’s been discussed.”

Aemond nodded. “And we need my grandsire to believe his plans are working.”

Rhaenyra agreed. “As soon as you leave this room, order the Red Keep locked down. No one in. No one out.”

“That’s a good idea,” Lucaera said. “After an attempt on your life and the kidnapping of your Omega, you’re bound to be furious. So, a lockdown would be the natural thing to do, to ensure my safety—and our pup’s.”

Aemond turned toward her, placing a protective hand over her stomach. Rhaenyra’s face softened at the sight.

“My sweet girl,” she murmured. “You really are with child. I suspected-but I never dared to hope.”

Lucaera smiled, hand over Aemond’s. “I carry Aemond’s child.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes filled with emotion. “Oh, my sweet girl. Congratulations.”

Daemon nodded once, firm. “Congratulations, nephew.”

Aemond gave a small, awkward smile, unused to such open warmth. “Thank you.”

Lucaera’s feelings of happiness and joy radiated through their shared bond and it made Aemond shiver.

However his gaze soon sharpened again. “When should I deal with my grandsire and the other traitors?”

Daemon grinned, dark and eager. “Your coronation. Tell your cunt of a grandsire to organize it for a week’s time. That way we will have enough time to root out every single one of the curs-”

Aemond arched a brow. “We?”

Daemon nodded, deadly serious. “Yes, we. You and I shall work together to see every single one of those traitorous cunts lose their heads.”

Rhaenyra interjected, calm and calculating. “But you’ll need to play your part, Aemond. We can’t afford for Otto or that pet toad of his to grow suspicious. You need to act—furious and vengeful. Let the whole court see how incensed you are that someone dared to touch your Omega.”

Aemond growled, voice like ice. “That won’t be difficult, sister. I can assure you of that.”

Daemon tilted his head. “Out of interest, what happened to the bodies of the attackers?”

“Both dead,” Aemond said coldly. “Hidden in the overgrowth in the gardens.”

Daemon nodded, impressed. “Explains why no one's raised an alarm yet. You need to move quickly. Dump your piss-drunk brother back in his chambers, then head back into the gardens with Lucy and build the scene. Spin whatever story you need to make it believable.”

Aemond nodded, moving to haul the snoring Aegon from the chair and over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Before they left, Lucaera rushed forward and wrapped her arms tightly around her mother. “I love you, mama,” she whispered.

Rhaenyra smiled softly, stroking her daughter’s hair. “I love you too, my sweet girl. There’s still much we need to talk about, but it can wait for another day.”

Lucaera nodded, then turned to Daemon. He eyed her for a moment before stepping forward and pressing his forehead gently to hers.

“Tala,” he murmured before stepping back, the corners of his mouth twitching into an amused grin at the sound of Aemond’s unmistakable growl. (Daughter).

With that, Lucaera and Aemond departed—Aegon slumped over Aemond’s shoulder, his snores making him sound like a dying boar.

As the door shut behind them, Daemon turned to Rhaenyra, his grin deepening.

“So,” he said, voice low and rough with suggestion, “where were we?”

And he leaned in to kiss her.

After Aemond had unceremoniously dumped his drunken brother back into his chambers—leaving him face down, snoring and drooling on the velvet cushions—he turned to Lucaera, silent and tight-jawed, and led her down the stone corridors and out into the still, moonlit gardens.

The bodies of the attackers were still where he had left them, hidden in the overgrowth—twisted limbs and bloodied faces barely visible among the hedge shadows.

Without a word, Aemond dragged them out, positioning them where they would appear to have fallen mid-attack.

One at the base of a tree, another slumped near the pathway, blade still in hand.

Aemond straightened and looked at her. “Ready?”

“I am,” Lucaera said softly, then frowned. She reached up, fingers grazing the side of his face, where Daemon’s strike had landed hard. “You’re going to bruise.”

“Good,” Aemond said, a cold fire in his eye. He closed it for a moment and summoned the storm again—remembering the fury that had consumed him at the thought of her being taken, her or their unborn pup harmed.

That rage still burned in his chest, hot and sharp, just controlled enough to be used.

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder, pulled her close, and then, staggering slightly to mimic panic and desperation, he bellowed, “GUARDS!”

Lucaera immediately began to tremble, tears springing to her eyes. When she clung to him, sobbing, it was with such natural intensity that Aemond himself almost believed the terror was real.

Her performance was flawless.

A rush of footsteps echoed from the Keep.

A group of guards burst into view, panting. “Your Grace—what’s happened?”

“My Omega was taken, that’s what’s happened!” Aemond roared. “Useless, the lot of you—I should have your fucking heads!”

The Kingsguard bowed and apologized profusely, stammering excuses. Aemond snarled, “Where is Ser Criston Cole?”

“Abed, Your Grace,” one said. “He ordered the Night’s Watch to—”

“Useless cur!” Aemond bellowed. “Summon my mother, my grandsire, the entire council. NOW!”

“But, Your Grace, it’s—”

“I don’t fucking care! Wake them. Their King demands it. And summon Maester Orwyle—I want my Omega checked immediately.”

The guards scrambled into action, and soon Aemond and Lucaera were flanked on either side, escorted swiftly through the Red Keep.

As they moved, Lucaera sobbed into Aemond’s shoulder, and he whispered praise softly into her ear. “You’re doing well, my love. Keep it up.”

Not too long after they had reached the council chambers, it was chaos.

Maester Orwyle was there, checking Lucaera over. Alicent hovered nearby, wringing her hands and picking at her fingers.

Otto and Larys stood with Jasper Wylde and Tyland Lannister, whispering to one another, their smugness just shy of gloating.

It took everything in Aemond not to draw his sword and run them through.

Criston Cole, pale and sleep-creased, loitered beside Alicent. Aemond’s eye burned as he stormed around the chamber.

“So, tell me” he thundered, voice cracking with fury, “Where were the esteemed members of this council while attackers threatened their King and endangered the life of his Omega and heir?”

Tyland, looking uncomfortable, muttered, “But. Your Omega wasn’t killed, Your Grace-”

With a snarl, Aemond seized the jug of wine from his hands and hurled it against the stone, shattering it into shards.

“SHE COULD’VE BEEN!” Aemond shouted. “My pup is my legacy. My pup will be heir to the Iron Throne!”

Aemond then stormed towards Criston, eyes blazing. “And you—where were you?”

Criston shifted, clearly ashamed. “Abed, Your Grace-”

“ABED!” Aemond spat. “While my Omega was being stolen from under your nose? Fucking useless-”

He turned again and hurled a wooden chair across the room. Alicent flinched. “My son,” she said, trembling, “I know you are angry, but you must calm down—”

“Calm down?” Aemond echoed with a cruel laugh. “I could have lost her. I could have lost my child.”

Otto stepped forward, his tone clipped and even. “Now is not the time for blind accusations, Your Grace. We will discover who—”

“-Who did this?” Aemond snarled, cutting him off. “Who would dare, except the bitch Queen of bastards and that smug cunt of a husband of hers?” He slammed his fist against the table.

“Aemond-” Alicent started, but he was beyond listening.

“They’re still here-” he growled, pacing like a caged dragon. “Sitting in my Keep. Laughing at me-THEIR FUCKING LAUGHING AT ME -”

He hurled another goblet—it missed Jasper Wylde’s head by inches.

Larys limped forward. “Your Grace. What of the attackers?”

Otto answered, “We would do well to extract whatever information we can—”

“Too late,” Aemond snapped. “I killed them bith. They laid hands on what is mine.”

Otto tried again. “We must be cautious—”

“Cautious?” Aemond snarled. “You warned me of schemes, and I didn’t listen—and now this.” His hands curled into fists, nails biting into his palms.

Jasper raised his voice, cool and steady. “A King may have more than one enemy, Your Grace. It would be wise to determine if this was indeed your sister, or if the serpent lies closer to our own bosom.”

Aemond’s eye locked onto Otto, rage thrumming behind his ribs. He wanted to strike him down. To watch him bleed.

But instead, he turned to Jasper, voice like steel. “Perhaps you’re right, Iron Rod. It could be anyone. Anyone in this room.”

Otto cleared his throat. “Lord Jasper is correct in one sense—there is still much we do not know. We must determine what happened. And whether anyone else is in danger.”

“No one else is in danger,” Aemond said coldly. “They came for me. For my Omega.”

He drew in a deep breath, then barked, “I want this entire place on lockdown. No one enters. No one leaves.”

Otto hesitated. “And Rhaenyra? Daemon?”

“Arrange my coronation. One week from today,” Aemond commanded. “And my first official act as King will be to deal with the traitorous cunts who dared to conspire against me and threaten my family.”

Alicent rose. “Aemond, please—”

“I do not wish to hear it,” he snapped. “See to it that Rhaenyra, Daemon, and her bastards are watched. Closely. I don’t want them fleeing to Dragonstone. I want them caught unawares.”

He turned to Maester Orwyle. “Assuming my Omega and our pup are well?”

Orwyle nodded, nervous. “As well as I can see, Your Grace.”

“Then we are moving to Maegor’s Holdfast. I want the chambers that once belonged to my father prepared. All our belongings packed and delivered within the hour.”

Otto opened his mouth. “Your Grace, we must—”

“In. The hour,” Aemond said, voice like a sword’s edge. “Do I make myself clear?”

Otto bowed stiffly. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Good.” Aemond turned, pulling Lucaera into his arms, holding her close for all to see. He pressed his forehead to hers, uncaring of the council’s watching eyes.

Let them see. Let them understand. She was his.

Aemond pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, “Come, my sweet. Let us retire for the night. I wish to hold you close-”

Lucaera nodded, still trembling, still clinging like a frightened child.

As they left the council chambers, Aemond caught it—a fleeting glance, a flicker of smugness.

Otto, exchanging a triumphant smirk with Larys Strong.

Aemond’s fingers tightened around Lucaera’s waist.

Let them smile now.

Their time was coming.

The narrow passageway within the bowels of the Red Keep was damp, shadowed, and humming faintly with the echoes of footsteps far above.

Aemond leaned against the cold stone wall, his arms crossed, tension simmering just beneath his skin. Daemon stood next to him, the flickering light from a hidden sconce casting his smirk in gold.

"I must say, nephew," Daemon drawled, voice low and mocking, "I'm impressed. You've managed to keep up your little charade around that cunt you have for a grandsire. I was convinced you’d run him through the moment you laid your eye on him."

Aemond huffed, giving him a pointed glance. “I do know how to restrain myself when necessary, uncle.”

Daemon's lip curled. “Pity you didn’t show that restraint when it came to claiming my daughter.”

“Stepdaughter,” Aemond corrected, evenly. “And surely a man like you would understand what it’s like to be enraptured by one’s mate—no matter if yours is only a Beta.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “It matters not that I wasn’t the one to sire Lucaera. I helped raise her. She is my daughter. As for Rhaenyra-” he tilted his head, voice softening with something dark and wistful, “-we were always meant to burn together.”

Aemond hummed, quiet and contemplative. “A notion I share with Lucy—mind, body, and soul. We are one.”

“Such a wondrous thing,” Daemon murmured. “To see a man brought to his knees by a woman.”

Aemond’s lips curled faintly. “A position I do not mind.”

Daemon chuckled—a low, amused sound. “A sentiment we both share, it seems.”

Before either could speak further, there was a sound—movement, footsteps shuffling against stone. The two men melted deeper into the shadows, hidden in a curve of the passage.

Through a slim sliver in the stone, they peered into a small, torchlit room just off the hall. Otto Hightower entered first, followed by Larys Strong, Jasper Wylde, Tyland Lannister, and Maester Orwyle.

Tyland grumbled immediately. “Why are we meeting in this wretched room?”

Otto’s voice was clipped. “Because my grandson has increased the guard patrols. We cannot risk being discovered.”

Jasper asked, “And the coronation? All is in place?”

“All in hand,” Otto replied. “Aemond will be crowned in the Dragonpit. He will wear the Conqueror’s crown.”

“And his Omega?” Jasper asked.

“She will be crowned alongside him, as he wishes,” Otto said coolly. “She’ll wear the crown of Queen Rhaenys.”

Tyland frowned. “And your plans for the Omega, Lord Hand?”

Otto exhaled through his nose. “No longer feasible. You saw how Aemond reacted to her simply being taken. Imagine his anger at her death-”

Aemond stiffened where he stood, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Daemon raised a finger to his mouth. Shhh.

Larys spoke next, “Indeed, putting the only known Omega to the sword, especially right after she births the King’s heir, would be-ill-advised. It seems she is the only one capable of tempering His Grace’s more volatile instincts. Far better to keep her alive.”

Otto nodded. “Her kidnapping served its purpose. Aemond’s anger was a powerful tool to direct suspicion elsewhere. But we tread carefully. He is no fool.”

Tyland’s voice followed, casual and poisonous. “Speaking of foul play—how fare Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon? They remain in the Red Keep?”

Otto nodded. “They linger. Rhaenyra would not flee—it would only make her look guilty”

Orwyle spoke next. “And the King how does he fare?”

“As well as can be expected,” Otto replied. “Though he refuses to leave the Omega’s side.”

Jasper gave a small huff. “And when it comes time to execute her mother and stepfather, how do you expect her to react? That sort of loss could fracture the marriage.”

Otto waved the concern away. “Her feelings are of no consequence. She need only spread her legs and give Aemond his heirs.”

A growl rumbled in Aemond’s throat. Daemon’s elbow jabbed him sharply in the ribs. “Later,” he whispered. “There’ll be time for retribution.”

Tyland added, “But what if the princess is disinclined to perform her duty after such a loss?”

Otto gave a sharp nod. “Then Aemond can always use her heats to his advantage.”

Jasper blinked. “Her heats?”

Orwyle took over, tone clinical and detached. “ Research has indicated that Omegas experience periodic heats—periods of heightened desire and vulnerability. They often suffer cramps, confusion, and are emotionally volatile. They seek comfort from their Alpha and are extremely fertile.”

Jasper frowned. “And how often do these occur?”

“It is difficult to say,” Orwyle replied. “She is with child now, so it is unlikely she’ll have another heat until after the babe is born.”

“And she would be more receptive to the King’s advances during this time?” Jasper asked.

“Most certainly,” Orwyle confirmed. “Ideally, the King would be secluded with her for the duration, laying together multiple times to ensure conception.”

Otto nodded again, a faint smirk twitching at his lips. “And while the King is indisposed with his Omega, we govern the realm.”

From the shadows, Aemond’s eye blazed. His omega, his mate, being reduced to a mere tool for breeding and control.

His heart thundered in his chest, fury flooding his limbs. Every word they spoke carved another notch of betrayal into his bones.

Daemon’s hand clasped his arm, voice low and firm. “We’ve heard enough.”

Aemond gave a sharp, silent nod, his body taut with murderous intent.

The passageway opened silently behind the great tapestry depicting the Doom of Valyria, and Daemon stepped through first, and Aemond followed close behind, his single eye immediately scanning the room—and at the sight before him, a growl began to rise in his throat.

There, perched comfortably on one of the plush settees, sat Lucaera nestled between her brothers, Jace and Luke.

His fists clenched instinctively, his body taut with possessiveness. Jace was laughing softly at something she’d said, and Luke leaned in close, a teasing smile on his face.

They were too close. Too familiar. Too casual with his Omega.

A low, dangerous growl rumbled from Aemond’s chest before he even realized it. Lucaera’s head whipped around at the sound, her laughter dying, but her eyes softened when she saw him. She rose quickly, placing herself between him and her brothers.

 “Lykirī ñuha zaldrīzes” (Be calm, my dragon).

Aemond’s eye didn’t leave her brothers as he crossed the room and seized Lucaera around the waist, and crashed his lips to hers.

The kiss was heated, almost desperate, his hands cradling her face before sliding down to the curve of her lower back. Her brothers sputtered in indignation behind them, but Aemond ignored them entirely.

Lucaera melted into him, sighing against his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair. When his mouth left hers, he trailed his lips down her neck, where he breathed deeply, the scent of apples, cinnamon, and milk filling his senses.

His Alpha Prime trilled in deep satisfaction—the scent of his pup lingered beneath her skin, a subtle thrum of life only he could feel through their bond.

His breath ghosted over her skin as he whispered, hoarse and thick with need, “Jaelan ao ñuha dōna” (I want you, my sweet).

Lucaera grinned against his cheek, her own need crackling along their bond. Her lips brushed his ear as she answered, “Pār emagon nyke-” (Then have me).

Aemond groaned low in his chest, fingers tightening at her waist. The bond between them burned with want—need—and his restraint thinned with every passing second.

Then someone cleared their throat.

Aemond turned his head slowly, his glare shifting to Daemon who stood by the wall with his arms folded, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“I can smell the lust on the pair of you,” Daemon muttered, his nose wrinkling. “Best that you retire for the night before the both of you give in right here, which is something I have no desire to witness.”

Without waiting for any awkward farewells, Aemond took her hand and turned, guiding her swiftly back into the secret passage, the panel closing behind them with a soft thud.

The moment the wall closed behind them, silence wrapped around them like a cloak.

They moved through the narrow passage in a shared rhythm, footsteps nearly soundless, though Aemond’s fingers gripped hers with increasing tension.

When he judged the corridor to be empty, he led her through a portrait passage, emerging just beyond the shadowed halls of Maegor’s Holdfast.

But the Alpha Prime inside him had lost all patience.

Every breath he took of her scent sent fire licking down his spine. Her pulse was fast, her own need simmering across the bond, curling around him like smoke. Her pupils were blown wide, lips parted, skin flushed.

He couldn’t wait.

With a low, possessive growl, Aemond shoved Lucaera gently but firmly into a darkened alcove. His mouth was on hers in an instant, demanding, reverent, worshipping.

One hand tangled in her hair, the other rested over her belly, possessively protective.

“Mine,” he whispered against her lips, the word trembling with reverence and hunger. “All of you—mine.”

Lucaera’s breath hitched, her hands sliding under his tunic, fingertips dragging over the heat of his skin. “Yours,” she echoed. “Always yours.”

Aemond growled as he spun Lucaera around and pressed her face against the wall, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other quickly unlacing and pushing down his breeches, along with his small clothes just enough to free his hard leaking cock.

“You’re mine-” rasped Aemond as he nudged her ankle with his foot, signalling for her to open her legs wider.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Lucaera moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth digging into her mating mark.

Not having the patience to properly prepare her, Aemond spat into his hand reaching down to run it up and down the hard length of himself, eyeing Lucaera with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she bent forward for him.

He rucked up the dress she was wearing and pulled aside her small clothes guiding himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her brutally, causing her to squeal.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond.

Lucaera can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing the tears to form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers, his fingers digging into her hips as he pushes and pulls her against him.

His cock reaching deep inside her, the sting of being stretched by him now giving way to a pleasurable ache.

Then he withdraws from her and spins her around, lifting her into his arms, his mouth pressed against hers as he quickly thrusts back inside her.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Lucaera.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

“P-Please. Oh Please. Yes-yes” babbled Lucaera ignoring the pain in her back as the force of Aemond’s thrusts kept slamming her into the wall.

“That’s it-” encouraged Aemond his gaze rooted to the place where they were joined, transfixed by the sight of her cunt stretched around his cock.

“Oooh-please-please” muttered Lucaera.

But then, his thrust begin to slow, and he withdraws from her, making her whimper in frustration.

But Aemond ignores her as he lays her on the floor and falls to his knees.

Sliding his hands up her legs, bunching the fabric of her small clothes in his hand before he rips them from her body.

“Aemond” shrieked Lucaera as he takes hold of her legs and hooks them over his shoulders, his mouth quickly descending on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into Lucaera’s core with his tongue, in and out, much faster than his cock ever could.

Still gasping, Lucaera clutches at his head with one hand, her other digging into the fabric of her dress.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her pearl with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Lucaera ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Aemond growled, deep in his throat. The vibration of his vocal cords rippled through to his tongue and Lucaera gasped; she felt every vibration keenly. Her body tensed for her peak– But Aemond pulled away from her and smirked, his chin shining with her slick.

“A-Aemond” gasped Lucaera, the tears of frustration spilling down her cheeks.

“Be a good Omega and take what I give you” said Aemond as he reached for the tie’s on the front of her dress before he grew impatient and tore it open, leaving her breasts bared.

A loud moan erupted from the back of his throat at the sight of Lucaera’s perfect breasts, he leaned forward and took one of her rosy nipples into his mouth, sucking on the stiffened peak before he bit her.

“Ooooh Aemond-“ whined Lucaera as she writhed against him, he smirked as he released her nipple and moved across lavishing the other one with the same attention.

“P-Please- Alpha-” sobbed Lucaera as she felt his hard cock sliding against her folds.

“Hmmm” growled Aemond as he sheathed himself inside her.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Lucaera.

He began to thrust in and out of her in a series of deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance.

“Tell me you want me-“ growled Aemond as he ran the head of his cock through her wet folds.

“I want you” exclaimed Lucaera.

“Tell me you need me” whispered Aemond as he sheathed himself back inside her.

“I need you-“ muttered Lucaera as one of Aemond’s hands slid up her body and wrapped around her throat.

Aemond smiled and then began to fuck her in earnest, his fingers digging into the flesh of her throat, using her as leverage as he repeatedly plunged his cock into her cunny, over, thrilled to hear Lucaera’s loud moans of need echoing around the alcove.

His thrusts, brutal and unrelenting, the stone floor harsh against her back.

“Peak for me-” breathed Aemond.

Lucaera screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

Gods, he could feel his knot forming, he needed to spill his seed, but not like this.

So, with his cock still nestled inside her, Aemond manoeuvred himself into a sitting position, resting against the wall with Lucaera on his lap.

“Give me another-I want you to come on my cock again” growled Aemond.

Lucaera quickly unclasped the fastenings on Aemond’s leather tunic and ripped open his cotton under shirt.

She ran her hands over the defined muscles of his chest, her nails digging into his pale skin.

“That’s it-mark me fucking harder” growled Aemond, his eye rolling into the back of his head as Lucaera ran her nails across his skin.

“Oh” gasped Lucaera as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it, baby, take it. Take all of me-such a good girl”.

Aemond placed his hands on Lucaera’s hips and marvelled as she as she bounced on top of him.

“S-so good-Aemond-Oh Alpha-” whimpered Lucaera.

“I-I’m never leaving this sweet cunt-” moaned Aemond.

Lucaera slid her hands around the back of his neck and coiled her fingers into his silver hair as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Lucaera as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast.

Lucaera’s thighs began to burn, and her knees were grazed as she felt her second peak approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Lucaera her vision going white as she came around his cock.

“That’s it-FUCK” groaned Aemond.

“Y-yessss Aemond, I want it-give me your knot-” babbled Lucaera.

“Take it-take all of me” moaned Aemond his fingers digging into Lucaera’s waist as he moved her faster upon his cock.

“Yes-yes-oh please-oh please” wailed Lucaera as Aemond forced his knot inside her.

 “FUUUCCCKKK” roared Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he spilled his seed inside her, collapsing against the wall, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses. Meanwhile Lucaera had collapsed against him, her face pressed into his neck.

The bells of King's Landing rang loud and triumphant, their booming chimes echoing through the stone streets.

Crowds of smallfolk surged like a tide toward the Dragonpit, their voices raised in anticipation, joy, and something close to awe.

The air was thick with incense, and the raw heat of dragons curled in their pens below, their growls and low roars, a constant hum beneath the rising excitement of the masses.

A hush fell, sudden and powerful, as a voice rang out, strong and clear.

“On this most joyous of days,” proclaimed Otto Hightower, his voice magnified by the vast acoustics of the pit, “-we gather to witness the coronation of a new King!”

The crowd erupted into rapturous applause.

Then came the sound of marching boots—precise andrhythmic. A formation of Gold Cloaks entered the Dragonpit, their armour gleaming beneath the light of the torches, the banners of House Targaryen unfurling above them.

They moved as one, forming a clean, ceremonial path down the centre of the pit as the trumpets sounded.

A moment later, the Gold Cloaks drew their swords in unison, holding the blades aloft, creating a sharpened archway of steel. As Aemond and Lucaera appeared hand in hand, and the crowd stilled,

Each sword was lowered behind them as they passed beneath the archway.

Otto’s voice boomed again “It is your great good fortune—and privilege—to witness this. A new day for our city. A new day for our realm. And a new King to lead us.”

Aemond’s grip on Lucaera’s hand tightened, both of them drawing strength from the bond between them. Together, they began to ascend the stone steps.

To the left stood Alicent, dressed in green, with Aegon and Helaena beside her. Ser Criston Cole, Tyland Lannister, Jasper Wylde, and Larys Strong stood behind them, their expressions carefully neutral.

To the right, Rhaenyra stood pale but proud beside Daemon, his jaw tight, his hand never leaving the hilt of Dark Sister.

Jace and Luke flanked their mother with Baela and Rhaena standing close, while Cregan Stark, Jeyne Arryn, Borros Baratheon, Corlys, and Rhaenys—watched with varying degrees of approval. Behind them, the Kings Guard stood like statues.

Alicent stepped forward first. She kissed Aemond’s forehead with a trembling hand, then turned and placed a kiss gently upon Lucaera’s brow as well.

She stepped back, gesturing for them both to kneel.

The High Septon, in full ceremonial regalia, stepped forward, dipping his fingers into a bowl of blessed water and pressing his thumb gently to Aemond’s and then Lucaera’s foreheads.

“May the Warrior give them courage. May the Smith lend strength to their sword and shield. May the Father defend them in their need. May the Crone lift her shining lamp and light their way to wisdom-”

Otto, eyes gleaming, was handed the Conqueror’s Crown—dark and heavy, forged of Valyrian steel.

“The crown of Aegon the Conqueror, passed down through generations-”

He lowered it upon Aemond’s silver head.

Then, he was handed another—smaller, elegant, and silver—

“The crown of Queen Rhaenys, passed down to grace the head of a new Queen-”

Otto lowered the crown to rest upon Lucaera’s brow.

Aemond could feel her anxiety through the bond—He squeezed her hand gently, a whisper in her mind: I’m here.

“Let the Seven bear witness,” Otto cried, voice reaching the highest rafters, “-that Aemond Targaryen is the true heir to the Iron Throne!”

Lucaera turned her head, her eyes seeking her mother and stepfather.

Rhaenyra was shaking her head and Daemon stood like a statue of wrath, his grip on Dark Sister getting tighter.

Aemond rose, pulling Lucaera up with him. Together, they turned to face the crowd.

Otto's voice rang out once more.

“All hail His Grace—Aemond, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm! All hail Her Grace—Lucaera of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!”

The bells rang louder, thunderous.

Ser Criston Cole stepped forward, armour gleaming.

“Aemond the King!” he declared.

The crowd erupted in thunderous applause.

“Lucaera the Queen!”

Even louder now—cheers echoed off the stone walls.

The dragons below howled and roared, their voices joining the chorus—as if even they, in some ancient knowing, gave blessing to the moment.

Then Aemond reached to his belt and removed the Valyrian steel dagger. He turned to Lucaera, his eye soft, reverent.

“This belongs to you-” he said, holding it out.

Lucaera shook her head. “Aemond, no—”

He cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her skin with gentle reverence. “Hush, my Queen. Viserys handed it to you. It’s only right that it rests with you—until our pup comes of age-”

His hand then moved to her stomach. She gazed into his eye for moment before nodding.

Aemond then unfastened one of his belts and wrapped it around her waist, buckling it snugly, allowing her to attach the dagger at the waist.

Aemond then unsheathed his sword andraised Blackfyre high above his head.

Then—

The thunderous sound of cheering and clapping rose up from the masses of smallfolk, their voices echoing from wall to wall in celebration.

“LONG LIVE THE KING. LONG LIVE THE QUEEN”

A few minutes later, Aemond sheathed Blackfyre with a slow, deliberate motion, the soft scrape of Valyrian steel sliding into its scabbard echoing in the quiet that followed the last echoing chant of ‘Queen Lucaera’.

The once-roaring Dragonpit fell silent—a hush heavy with anticipation, the eyes of many fixed on the newly crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Aemond turned his head slightly, meeting Otto Hightower’s gaze.

The old man stood with his hands calmly clasped in front of him, a small, knowing smile curling his thin lips. He nodded, clearly expecting praise, expecting reward.

Expecting his grandson to act as the puppet he believed him to be.

Aemond smirked.

But when he turned back to the crowd, the smirk vanished. His face stern, resolute, and unyielding.

He raised his voice, clear and strong, cutting through the still air like a blade.

“As King, I promise to govern the laws of the land I rule and protect the people of this realm. I will fight for you when necessary and defend you when needed.”

A ripple of cheers and applause moved through the crowd, but Aemond raised a hand—calling for silence.

“However,” he continued, voice steel-edged, “in my first act as King, it saddens me to say this reign begins not with joy alone but with justice.”

Murmurs of unease began to rise.

“There are those who conspired against my ascent. They plotted and schemed in the shadows, hiring assassins. They sought not only to take my life, but dared to lay hands upon my Omega, and our unborn pup.”

A thunderous wave of boos and outraged cries burst from the crowd.

Angry shouts—“Traitors”, “Hang them!”, “Death to those who would harm the Queen!”—rang through the air.

“The ones responsible,” Aemond went on, “will be charged with treason. And they will be executed-”

“It was not my intention to begin my reign in blood,” he said, voice softening only slightly, “but I will do what is necessary to preserve the safety of my Queen.”

Beside him, Lucaera squeezed his hand. Her touch was grounding. Calming. And yet, through their bond, he could feel the pride radiating from her—burning bright through the flickers of fear.

Aemond drew a breath.

He turned, slowly, to where Otto stood—still smirking. Still oblivious.

Otto shifted slightly, glancing at Daemon and Rhaenyra, no doubt believing Aemond was about to call them to account. Perhaps even looking forward to it.

But Aemond’s voice rang loud and clear:

“Bring the first traitor forward—”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“Lord Otto Hightower-”

TBC

[diorsdahlia]

is it harmless? (viii) (xi)

luke castellan x reader, smau with some written parts. series masterlist

cw : swearing, reader is avoidant???

a/n: we are sooo back my fault for putting this off for so long chat (its been in my drafts for weeks)

with that text sent, you tucked your phone into your pockets and walked out of the cabin, slipping your jacket on as you walked to the campfire. you took another route than you usually would. more specifically, you took the route that ensured you wouldn't walk by the hermes cabin and potentially stumble into luke, who (at least you expect) would also be walking to the campfire. you arrived to the campfire with no sign of luke. you sat down on one of the tree logs, looking around as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. the moon provided little guidance as she is in the waxing crescent phase.

"hey," luke said as if he suddenly teleported next to you.

you jumped slightly, unable to stop the curse from escaping your lips, you quickly composed yourself and exhaled a sigh.

"hey," you greeted back, giving him an apologetic smile which he probably couldn't see, "im sorry. i didnt hear you. hey."

"it's fine, what did you just call me though?" he chuckled, sitting down next to you, setting down a lantern.

you had to physically stop yourself from teasing him about the lantern. you already avoided him for 2 weeks, you accidentally called him stupid in your native language just a minute ago.

"that's not important," you replied, and the both of you fell into silence.

"i really dont know what to say," you confessed, looking over to him.

"that's fine. i have a question." he bit his cheek before continuing. "you said and i quote, 'yup', when i pointed out you were implying you're attached to me"

you nodded slowly, eyes squinting as you waited for the question. "yeah...?"

"so, what im trying to ask is. are you attached or are you attracted?" he questioned, a bit too boldly for your liking.

if your mind was blank then, your cranium is definitely empty now. you tried to hide your suprised expression as best as you can.

"oh wow. thats a question," you quipped, inhaling sharply, "if i had to choose, i would say...attracted. yeah, attracted."

thank the gods he had a genuine smile on his face, because if he had a cocky smirk instead you would've slapped him. he also was quiet which made you feel like you should keep talking.

"because attachment to a person basically means a genuine feeling of affection, of concern, of care over a person produced by closeness. we are not close, so therefore, its not attachment." you explained, hoping you dont sound too nervous.

"so, you only want me for my body?" he teased, looking at you with a smile.

you slapped him on the shoulder, rolling your eyes. "its not like that."

"i know, i know, im sorry." he shifted on the tree logs, fingers fidgeting with the strings of his sweatpants. "i feel the same way. not that im just physically attracted, no im not. i just...want to get to know you. and if you're up for it, maybe it'll turn into something more?"

your eyes searched his expression just incase he was pulling some sick joke, but he wasnt.

"seriously?" you inquired.

"seriously." he answered, his gaze locked on yours. "we can do this however you want, no rush. if you want to go fast, we'll go fast. if you want to take it slow, we'll take it slow. i would just be happy to get to know you."

the air was too think all of a sudden, and you stared at him for a moment. "and if i wanted you to crawl?"

"i'll crawl," he replied, a little too enthusiastically and you laughed.

"okay. i think we should just...go with the flow," you suggested, looking at him for approval and he nodded. "is this what they call a talking stage?"

"i guess," he chuckled.

"so how do we do this? do we start getting to know eachother now?" you leaned back on your palms.

"might as well. so, how do you fold your socks?" he asked, mirroring your position.

"uhm. i fold them into..balls? is there another way?" your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over to him again.

he looked at you with his mouth slightly agape, shaking his head, "that is illegal. youre gonna make the socks lose its size and elasticity. just... fold them."

taglist : @thedameachilles @criesinlies @iammightsadyall @nana-luvy @spider-ghoul @emotiandon @he6rtshaker @rinisfruity14 @imafuckinstar @laurelthesimp @that-daughter-of-hephaestus

[lyragrayson4ever]

I love your fanfics of lyrason, they’re so good!!! could you do one where lyra makes grayson do partner work and ballet lifts with her?💗hes such a softie and ofc he’s good at it too hehe

For you (Lyra x Grayson)

It started with boredom.

The kind of mind-numbing, soul-destroying boredom that struck Lyra when she had gone too long without dancing.

Grayson Hawthorne was reading in one of the libraries in the Hawthorne mansion—probably something dense and strategic. Lyra, in contrast, was lying upside down on the couch like a bored cat, legs draped over the backrest, hair brushing the floor.

"I'm going to combust," she declared dramatically.

Grayson turned a page. "And why is that? ."

"I need to move," she groaned, rolling off the couch in one fluid motion. "I need music. I need motion. I need—"

"Dramatics?" he offered.

She narrowed her eyes at him, then lit up. "Ballet."

Grayson paused. Wariness crept into his expression. "I’m afraid to ask where this is going."

"You’re going to do ballet partner work with me." She grabbed his wrist, tugging him up.

"Catty."

"Davenport."

"You realize I’ve never done ballet in my life."

"Yes, but you’re a Hawthorne. You probably have excellent balance, insane core strength, and an instinct for catching girls who throw themselves into chaos."

"...Fair point," he admitted reluctantly.

The music played softly from the speaker in the corner. Classical, delicate—something Lyra had danced to a dozen times. But this time, she wasn’t alone.

Grayson stood behind her, a little stiff, trying to follow her instructions as she guided his hands to her waist.

“Okay,” she said, voice serious now, “we’re just going to try a few basics. Follow my lead. And be gentle.”

He arched a brow. “I’m always gentle with you.”

She blinked. Oh. Cue the blush.

They started with the simplest of positions—an assisted arabesque, her weight balanced between his steady hands as she extended one leg behind her. She felt his grip tighten, supportive, instinctive. He was a natural.

“Good,” she murmured. “You’re doing great.”

“You’re light,” he replied, voice low near her ear. “Though I already knew that.”

She turned her head, lips curving. “Is this your way of flirting while lifting me en pointe?”

“Maybe.”

Then came the lifts.

Grayson caught on too quickly. One moment they were doing basic turns, the next she was soaring in the air, cradled in his arms like a scene from a ballet romance.

She laughed, high and gleeful, as he spun her with ease. “Okay, that was—ridiculously good.”

“I should’ve done ballet as one of my many hobbies,” he teased, letting her down gently, fingers lingering on her back.

“Don’t get cocky, Hawthorne,” she said, cheeks pink. “We’re just getting started.”

And they were. For the next hour, the library became their studio. Pirouettes into partner spins, his hands always steady, always careful. She guided, he followed—until they were in sync, his body learning the rhythm of hers like a second language.

Finally, she melted into a final pose—back arched, arms above her head, and Grayson lifting her with the kind of tenderness that had nothing to do with choreography and everything to do with love.

When he set her down, neither of them moved right away.

“I get why you love it,” he said softly.

She looked up at him, chest heaving slightly. “The dance?”

“No,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You, when you dance.”

Her heart did a little pirouette of its own.

“Softie,” she breathed, smiling.

He kissed her forehead. “Only for you, Catalina.”

[mischievous-thunder]

Also, Logan: *Proceeds to drink pure alcohol to intensify his flirting game*

[qaanngi]

Reading Viago’s letter for the first time (and then reading it again out loud to Varric, mimicking all of Viago’s mannerisms)

[vaguely-concerned]

few things bring me as much joy as my rook's expressive capacity for sudden withering disdain. (he's looking at illario here, of course lmao.) he's so hey i'm just a little guy...🥺 coded most of the time and then someone says something dumb enough that the mask cracks for a moment and every line of him says 'that is the stupidest fucking thing anyone has ever said to me and I'm aggrieved to even have had to hear it'. rye is mostly very kind but there IS a bastard lurking in his head waiting to be let out as well. not just solas but solas too I suppose. two bastards in rye ingellvar's head they keep each other company and are trying to strangle each other as we speak 😌.

(vs. him looking over at lucanis a moment later during the same line delivery. since lucanis was actively into viago once I cannot imagine that getting to watch rye crack and be kind of mean to people who've earned it when too sorely tried is like. entirely without allure to him fhskjadf. witnessing illario pulling the old ingratiating 'rooook reason with him would you~ I'm the cousin with the charisma stats' routine and This being rook's response probably opened some as of yet ill-understood '...I think I hauve covid' corners of lucanis' soul. tfw your buddy has your back so completely (dawning erotic implications))

[itspileofgoodthings]

I think the writing is gentle, often funny, and sustained (overall) but it’s the acting and the chemistry that takes it to the next level.

[sysig]

Red Tape tied in a bow (P1 | P2 | P3) (Patreon)

Also decided to give a go to the caption thing again since this one’s rather dialogue-heavy!

[Panel 2] Peepers: Uhm...sir? Hater: What. Peepers: Could you- do you have the full paperwork on our health plan?

[Panel 3] Hater: Health plan? Peepers what in grop’s name are you talking about??

[Panel 4] Peepers: It’s really no big thing, I just wanted to see what was (and wasn’t) covered-

[Panel 5] Hater: Commander Peepers. Are you planning to commit insurance fraud on my dime? And you’re asking me how?

[Panel 7] Peepers: P- hahahaha! I would never dream of it, Lord Hater!

[Panel 8] Hater: Then-? Peepers: I just want to see what’s covered, sir. Like I said already...

[Panel 9] Hater: Hrmph. It’s all personally approved by me, so feel free to ask, Commander.

[marsbotz]

i canttttt read fics where inho immediately chooses to reveal his identity. TO ME he would not do that in one million years

[todayisafridaynight]

Who was ur favorite yakuza character before daigo and mine? Since u would’ve had to go through 0-2 until u meet daigo and 3 til mine (unless u didn’t play chronologically)

playing the games chronologically, i dont think i really had a favorite until Y3, and even then i didn't immediately latch onto mine (if anything, rikiya was my favorite for most of my first playthrough). also with Y2 it was more fair to say ryuji was my favorite from that game since at the time daigo was still 'thats my old friend daigo :)' to me

but excluding Y2, i really liked lee and makoto from Y0 :) and date from Y1. my best friend date ........ also haruka was my daughter in an instant and i still love her sooooo

[kaijutegu]

Alligator Body Language and You, or: How To Know When An Alligator On Social Media is Being Stressed for Views

Alligators are wild animals. Despite the idiotic claims of animal abusers like Jay Brewer, they cannot be domesticated, which means they are always going to react on the same natural instincts they've had for millions of years. Habituated, yes. Tamed, yes. Trained, definitely. Crocodilians can form bonds with people- they're social and quite intelligent. They can solve problems, use tools, and they're actually quite playful. Alligators are also really good at communicating how they're feeling, but to somebody who doesn't spend much time around them, their body language can be a bit mystifying. And it doesn't help when social media influencers are saying shit like this:

That is not what a happy gator looks like.

That's a terrified, furious gator who isn't attacking because the ogre handling her has her in a chokehold. She's doing everything she can to express her displeasure, and he's lying about it because he knows his audience doesn't even know how to think critically about what he's doing. He knows that because his audience doesn't know anything about these animals, he can get away with it. This I think is why I hate him so much- he deliberately miseducates his audience. He knows what he's doing is factually inaccurate, he just doesn't care because attention means more to him than anything else in the world.

Let's change that! Here are two really important lessons for understanding alligator body language on social media.

Lesson 1: Alligators Don't Smile (in fact, most animals don't)

So what's going on in this video? Jay Brewer is aggressively choking his white alligator Coconut while scrubbing algae off of her with a toothbrush. And make no mistake, he is digging into the creature's throat while she is visibly distressed. He claims she's happy- but she's not. He is willfully misrepresenting what this animal is feeling. That's a problem, because people... well, we actually kind of suck at reading other species' body language. The reason for this is that we tend to overlay our own responses on their physical cues, and that's a problem. For example, let's look at an animal with a really similar face to ours, the chimpanzee. Check out Ama's toothy grin!

Wait, no. That's not a happy smile. That's a threat display. When a chimpanzee "smiles," it's either terrified and doing a fear grimace, or it's showing you its teeth because it intends on using them in your face.

How about a dog? Look at my smiling, happy puppy!

Oh wait no, this is a picture of Ryder when he was super overwhelmed by noise and people during a holiday party. He'd hopped up in my sister's lap to get away from stuff that was happening on the floor and was panting quite heavily. See the tension in the corners of his mouth and his eyes? A lot of the time when a dog "smiles," the smile isn't happy. It's stress! Why Animals Do The Thing has a nice writeup about that, but the point is, our body language is not the same as other species. And for reptiles, body language is wildly different.

For instance, look at these two alligators. Pretty cute, right? Look at 'em, they're posing for a Christmas card or something! How do you think they're feeling?

Well, I'll tell you how the normal one is feeling. He's annoyed! Why is he annoyed? Because the albino just rolled up, pushed another gator off the platform, and is trying to push this guy, too. I know this because I actually saw it happen. It was pretty funny, not gonna lie. He's not gaping all the way, but he was hissing- you can actually see him getting annoyed in the sequence I took right before this shot. Look at him in this first shot here- he's just relaxing, and you can see he isn't gaping even a little bit.

By the end, he's expressing displeasure, but not enough to actually do anything about it. He's annoyed, but he's comfy and that's where one of the best basking areas is, so he'll put up with it.

Reptiles open their mouths wide for a lot of reasons, but never because they are actively enjoying a sensation. Unless they're eating. No reptile smiles- they can't. They don't even have moveable lips. If a reptile is gaping, it's doing so because:

It is doing a threat display.

It is making certain vocalizations, all of which are threats. Alligators are one of the rare reptiles that do regularly vocalize, but most of their calls aren't made with a wide open mouth.

It is about to bite something delicious or somebody stupid. Check out this video- virtually all of the gaping here is anticipatory because these trained gators know darn well that the bowl is full of delicious snacks. (I have some issues with Florida's Wildest, but the man knows how to train a gator AND he is honest about explaining what they're doing and why, and all of his animals are healthy and well-cared for, and he doesn't put the public or his staff at risk- just himself.)

It's too hot and it has opened its mouth to vent some of that heat and thermoregulate. This is the main reason why alligators will often have their mouths part of the way open, but sometimes they'll open all the way for thermoregulation. This is what a thermoregulatory gape looks like- usually it's not all the way open, kinda more like < rather than V, but you can't say that 100% of the time. Additionally, a thermoregulatory gape... typically happens when it's hot out. If they're inside, maybe they've been under their basking light for too long. Heat's the dominant factor, is what I'm getting at.

There is another reason that a captive crocodilian might be gaping, and that's because it's doing so on command. Some places have their gators trained to gape on cue, like St. Augustine Alligator Farm and other good zoos. They have the animals do this in presentations that are genuinely educational. They ask the animals to open their mouths so that they can show off their teeth and demonstrate how their tongues seal off the back of their mouth. They'll also do it as part of routine healthcare, because looking at their teeth is important.

In this case, the animals aren't gaping because they're stressed, they're gaping because they know they're gonna get a piece of chicken or fish if they do it. And what's more, they're doing it on cue. They have a specific command or signal that tells them to open wide. It's not an instinctive response to a situation. It's trained. If the animal provides the behavior after a cue, the situation is much less likely to be negatively impactful.

It's also important to remember that there's a difference between a partially open mouth and a gape! As discussed above, alligators will often have their mouths a little bit open just to maintain temperature homeostasis. It helps them stay comfy, temperature-wise. These guys are all doing thermoregulatory open-mouthed behavior- that slight open and relaxed body posture is a dead giveaway. (That and it's the hottest spot in the enclosure.)

Lesson 2: A Happy Gator Is A Chill Gator

So if alligators don't smile or have facial expressions other than the :V that typically signifies distress, how else can you tell how they're feeling? One way is stillness. See, alligators subscribe to the philosophy of if it sucks... hit da bricks.

Basically, if they hate it, they'll leave. Unless, y'know, somebody has their meaty claws digging into their throat or is otherwise restraining them. (Restraint isn't always bad, btw. Sometimes the animal is going through a medical thing or needs to be restrained for their safety- which a responsible educator will explain.)

Let's look at a very similar scenario, in which a captive alligator is getting his back scrubbed.

As you can see, it's quite different. First, he's not being restrained at all. Second, look at how relaxed he is! He's just chilling there vibing! He could simply get up and leave if he wanted to, because he's not being held. Towards the end of the video, as he lifts his head, you can see that his respiratory rate is very even as his throat flutters a bit. I'm not sure what this facility is, so I can't comment on care/general ethics, but like. In this specific case, this is an alligator enjoying being scrubbed! And you can tell because he's not doing anything. A happy gator is content to be doing what they're doing.

Why Should I Listen To You?

Now, you should ask yourself, why should you listen to me? Why should you trust me, who does not own an alligator, versus Jay Brewer, who owns several?

Well, first off, there's no profit for me in telling you that what you're seeing on social media is in fact not what you're being told you're seeing. I'm not getting paid to do this. That's the thing with people who make social media content. The big names aren't doing it just for fun. They're doing it for money. Whether that's profit through partnerships or sponsorships, or getting more people to visit their facilities, or ad revenue, you can't ignore the factor of money. And this is NOT a bad thing, because it allows educators to do what they're passionate about! People deserve to be paid for the work that they do!

But the problem starts when you chase the algorithm instead of actually educating. A "smiling" alligator gets the views, and if people don't know enough to know better, it keeps getting the views. People love unconventional animal stories and they want those animals to be happy- but the inability to even know where to start with critically evaluating these posts really hinders the ability to spread real information. Like, this post will probably get a couple hundred notes, but that video of Coconut being scrubbed had almost 400,000 likes when I took that screenshot. Think about how many eyeballs that's reached by now. What I'm saying here is that it's just... really important to think critically about who you're getting your information from. What do dissenters say in the comments? What do other professionals say? You won't find a single herpetologist that has anything good to say about Prehistoric Pets, I can tell you that right now.

Another reason you can trust me is that my sources are not "just trust me bro," or "years of experience pretending my pet shop where animals come to die is a real zoo." Instead, here are my primary sources for my information on alligator behavior:

Dragon Songs: Love and Adventure among Crocodiles, Alligators, and Other Dinosaur Relations- Vladimir Dinets

The Secret Social Lives of Reptiles- J. Sean Doody, Vladimir Dinets, Gordon M. Burghardt

Social Behavior Deficiencies in Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Z Walsh, H Olson, M Clendening, A Rycyk

Social Displays of the American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis)- Kent Vliet

Social Signals and Behaviors of Adult Alligators and Crocodiles- Leslie Garrick, Jeffery Lang

Never smile at a crocodile: Gaping behaviour in the Nile crocodile at Ndumo Game Reserve, South Africa- Cormac Price, Mohamed Ezat, Céline Hanzen, Colleen Downs (this one's Nile crocs, not American alligators, but it's really useful for modeling an understanding of gape behaviors and proximity)

Thermoregulatory Behavior of Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Cheryl S. Asa, Gary D. London, Ronald R. Goellner, Norman Haskell, Glenn Roberts, Crispen Wilson

Unprovoked Mouth Gaping Behavior in Extant Crocodylia- Noah J. Carl, Heather A. Stewart, Jenny S. Paul

Thank you for reading! Here's a very happy wild alligator from Sanibel for your trouble.

[imastoryteller]

Writing Angry Scenes: Tips to Avoid Melodrama and Make It Real

Anger can be one of the most intense, relatable emotions to read—and one of the trickiest to write. When handled well, an angry scene can pull readers deep into the emotional world of a character, building tension and driving the story forward. But when handled poorly, anger can easily slip into melodrama, making the character’s feelings seem overblown, forced, or even cringe-worthy.

So how can you avoid these pitfalls and write anger that feels real and compelling? Here are some tips to make angry scenes powerful without overdoing it.

1. Understand What Fuels Your Character’s Anger

To write anger authentically, you need to understand its roots. People get angry for complex reasons—fear, frustration, betrayal, grief, and even love. Ask yourself what’s truly driving your character’s anger. Are they afraid of losing control? Do they feel abandoned or misunderstood? Are they hurt by someone they trusted? Anger rarely exists in isolation, so dig into the deeper emotions fueling it.

When you understand the core reasons behind a character’s anger, you can weave those nuances into the scene, making the anger more relatable and layered. Readers will feel the depth of the character's rage, not just the surface heat of it.

2. Show, Don’t Tell—But Don’t Overdo It

“Show, don’t tell” is classic writing advice, but it’s especially crucial in angry scenes. Don’t rely on generic phrases like “She was furious” or “He clenched his fists in anger.” Instead, look for unique ways to convey how this specific character experiences anger. Maybe their voice drops to a deadly calm, or their eyes narrow in a way that makes everyone around them uncomfortable.

That said, showing too much can backfire, especially with exaggerated descriptions. Over-the-top body language, excessive shouting, or too many “flaring nostrils” can tip the scene into melodrama. Use body language and physical cues sparingly and mix them with subtler reactions for a more realistic portrayal.

3. Use Dialogue to Reveal Hidden Layers

People rarely say exactly what they feel, especially when they’re angry. Angry dialogue isn’t just about yelling or throwing out insults; it’s an opportunity to show the character’s deeper thoughts and vulnerabilities.

Consider using controlled, icy responses or unexpected silences. Maybe your character says something hurtful in a low voice rather than screaming. They might express sarcasm, avoidance, or even laugh at the wrong moment. Anger often carries hidden layers, and using these nuances can help your character’s dialogue feel genuine, even haunting, without falling into dramatic clichés.

4. Control the Pacing of the Scene

The pacing of an angry scene can be the difference between a powerful moment and a melodramatic one. In real life, anger doesn’t always erupt instantly; it can simmer, spike, or deflate depending on the situation and the character’s personality. Experiment with different pacing techniques to create tension.

You might build the anger slowly, with small signs that something’s brewing. Or maybe the character explodes suddenly, only to calm down just as quickly, leaving a chill in the air. Controlling the pace helps you control the reader’s emotional engagement, drawing them in without overwhelming them.

5. Avoid Clichéd Expressions and Overused Reactions

When writing anger, avoid falling back on clichés like “seeing red,” “boiling with rage,” or “blood boiling.” These phrases have been overused to the point that they lose their impact. Instead, get creative and think about how your character’s anger might feel specifically to them.

Maybe their skin feels prickly, or their jaw aches from clenching it. Think about details that are unique to the character and to the moment. By focusing on small, unique sensory details, you’ll help readers feel the anger rather than just reading about it.

6. Let the Setting Reflect the Emotion

The setting can be an effective tool to amplify a character’s anger without overstating it. Small details in the environment—such as the hum of a refrigerator, the slow ticking of a clock, or the distant sounds of laughter—can create a sense of contrast or isolation that heightens the character’s rage.

For example, imagine a character seething in a peaceful park or a quiet library. The calm of the surroundings can make their anger feel more potent. Or maybe they’re in a crowded, noisy room where they feel unseen and unheard, which fuels their frustration further. This use of setting can add depth to the scene without the need for dramatic gestures.

7. Let Consequences Speak for Themselves

An effective way to avoid melodrama is to let the consequences of the anger show its intensity. Characters don’t always have to yell or physically react; sometimes, a single choice can convey more than any outburst.

Perhaps your character cuts off a close friend or says something they can’t take back. Maybe they throw away a meaningful object or walk out in silence. By focusing on the consequences of their anger, you can reveal the impact without over-explaining it.

8. Let the Emotion Simmer After the Scene Ends

Anger is rarely resolved in a single moment, and its effects often linger. When writing an angry scene, think about how it will affect your character moving forward. Are they holding onto grudges? Do they feel guilty or exhausted afterward? Does their anger transform into something else, like sadness or regret?

Allowing the anger to simmer in your character’s mind even after the scene ends creates a more authentic and layered portrayal. It shows that anger is complex and doesn’t just disappear the moment the scene is over, adding emotional weight to both the character and the story.