#sneek peak

[xtaleunderverse]

Underverse 0.8 is actually the series finale and it was all just a dream. The end.

[bunnis-monsters]

Sneak peek of something I’m working on… my discord has more sneak peeks btw~

[mygoldtears]

HE ISN’T SMILING WHAT THE FUCK?!?

AT 0:13

SNEAK PEAK

SPOILER EPISODE 7

[kisasan]

I have so many thoughts…so many…🏳️‍🌈

[willlynn-comics]

Sneek peak on what I'm workin on

[allykatsart]

Tomorrow >:3

[queeny-v]

Dropping these little Akarsha sneak peeks for the day 1 and 2 prompts of PPKM Week 2024!

[avi-mation]

A teaser of my piece for @hermitseasonzine . The zine comes out on 7th September, keep your eyes out for it!!!

[take-everything-you-can]

New Steve Harrington blurb tomorrow!!! Where my Steve girlies at ? A little hurt/comfort fluff 🖤

[fortheloveoffanfic]

A tiny bit of the next thing coming.

[dazelvel]

Sneek peak of what im currently working on! 👀

Alstor and his S/o thought they could enjoy their breakfast

[samuelmorgan3d]

A slightly longer, manual sneak peek flight through Gravity Falls 😁 Credits to Densle for this Intro Remix 👌🏻

[paranormal-peri]

Damn it, my screen is glitching out.

[kisasan]

what if this is gihun? what if inho joins him for real this time,like he wants to take the games down too...what if he gives gihun his costume (sharing clothes with bf /hj) to disguise him as frontman to "control the games"/take down the VIP'S?

[alkalineapparition]

Sneak Peek | König x Reader | 18+ MDNI

Give - Chapter 17

Steady now. Breathe. Focus.

Blue eyes lock onto yours—searching, questioning.

But your vision swims and the compression garment is a living thing, coiling tighter, a viper constricting your airway. The instinct to claw it off, to purge the suffocating weight and crumple to the floor heaving, is overwhelming.

You hold on by a thread.

And the blue eyes crease with knowledge.

You are going to vomit.

Just as the clenched fist of nausea twists your stomach, a steady pressure anchors your trembling knee. Startled, your gaze snaps to the right. Sterling, not blue. Soft, worried eyes blink slowly. König. His hand is there, enveloping you, thumb tracing the crease of your knee in slow, deliberate passes.

You latch onto the sensation, swallowing against the tidal wave rising inside you. Neither of you breaks eye contact. And though your breathing slows, the racing of your heart stutters. Then, like the traitor it is, picks up to a gallop.

A prayer is sent up - to whoever the fuck might be listening - that he can't feel your pulse through his gloves. Heat blooms under his touch, radiating up your thigh, thrumming with every rhythmic stroke of his thumb.  Higher. Higher. Higher. Why the hell is his hand so hot?

Gritting your teeth, you wrestle against the flush pooling low in your belly, fervent warmth settling at the apex of your thighs. Now is so not the time. You shift in your seat, grateful for the mask shielding your burning face. The ringing in your ears fades, so you force your focus back to the meeting.

Wrong move.

The moment you hear Price's voice, all the fragile calm you've managed to piece together shatters. Dust in the wind. König must hear the hitch in your breath because his hand tightens around you, squeezing. He slides down in his seat, slouching awkwardly to level his towering frame with yours. It doesn’t quite work—his size makes it impossible—but the sight of him slumped down like that almost makes you laugh. Almost.

Then he leans closer, his hood brushing your shoulder. His breath warms your ear, only inches away. A sharp jolt races up your spine, heart stuttering again. He begins to murmur softly in German, just beneath his breath. You can't quite catch the meaning. "Du bist sicher bei mir, Kleine. Du bist stark, auch wenn du selbst nicht glaubst."

His voice slides over you like honey, melting the tension all at once. It works a little too well—your toes curl and your eyes flutter, nearly rolling back into your head.

Faintly, you wonder if he's melted your brain.

[snapmite1998]

Darth Maul was roused from his dream, the remnants of sleep clinging to him like the shadows of his past. He sat up in bed, the silken sheets cascading around him, a stark contrast to the heat, damp, and filth of Lotho Minor where he had once languished in waste and piles of trash during his solitude. Exhaling softly, he recalled the agony of his exile—the endless nights spent in darkness, gnawed by hunger and thirst, his mind unraveling with each passing moment, and the dark side of the Force itself keeping him alive, its raging inferno blazing so bright, that it had not died out during those twelve excruciating years.

Those memories twisted within him like a blade, sharp and unyielding. He had clawed his way back from that abyss, fighting against the madness that threatened to consume him. The torment of deprivation had etched itself into his very being, a constant reminder of his resilience. Yet here he was now, surrounded by luxury that few could fathom—a bed of the finest silks, walls adorned with opulent artwork, and treasures amassed from across the galaxy.

He leaned back against the plush pillows, a flicker of satisfaction igniting within him. Wealth flowed like a river through his criminal empire, and he had risen from the trash and filth of his past to command respect and fear in equal measure. His family—those who had remained loyal through his darkest hours—stood by him, their unwavering support solidifying his position as a Dark Lord of the Sith.

Maul’s crimson skin glistened in the soft light, and he reveled in the power that coursed through him. He was no longer a forgotten specter, but a force to be reckoned with—a master of the shadows who had transcended his former limitations. As he sat in his lavish chamber, he allowed a small, sinister smile to creep across his lips. The galaxy would soon learn that he had not only survived; he had thrived, and he would not rest until he had reclaimed all that was rightfully his.

Rising from the bed, Darth Maul approached the nearest water basin, its reflective surface glimmering under the warm glow of the crimson fire that illuminated his chambers aboard the Blood Star. He splashed cool water on his face, the sensation invigorating, washing away the remnants of the restless night. The room around him was as imposing as he was—a vast expanse of onyx marble, its dark sheen capturing the flicker of flames from the basins that lined the walls. Statues of his former selves, each a testament to his evolution, stood like sentinels, watching over him: the child, the apprentice, the savage warrior, and ultimately, the Dark Lord he had become.

As he dried his face, Maul's thoughts swirled with anticipation. He dressed quickly, sliding into his ebony robes, each fold and contour tailored perfectly to his lithe, powerful frame. The fabric whispered against his skin, a reminder of the finesse and strength he embodied. He reached for his double-bladed lightsaber, the weapon humming with dormant energy. As he summoned it to his grasp, the blades ignited with a fierce hiss, bathing the chamber in a blood-red glow that mirrored the intensity of his resolve.

The crimson light danced across the marble, casting eerie shadows that seemed to writhe in response to his fury. Maul reveled in the power of the moment, feeling the Dark Side swell within him. This was more than just a weapon; it was a symbol of his vengeance, a harbinger of the blood he was destined to shed. Soon, he would unleash this fury upon his enemies, particularly the one who had wronged him most—Obi-Wan Kenobi.

As he steadied his breathing, focusing on the mission ahead, Maul reflected on every choice he had made since his rebirth. Each step had led him closer to this pivotal moment—the end of the war, the dismantling of his enemies, and the reclaiming of his rightful place in the galaxy. Victory was within his grasp, and with it, the sweet taste of revenge against the Jedi who had stolen so much from him.

With one last glance at his mirrored reflection, he stepped forward, the lightsaber illuminating his path as he left the sanctuary of his chambers. The Blood Star thrummed with anticipation, a fitting vessel for the storm that he was about to unleash upon Naboo. His brothers and allies awaited him, and together, they would carve a path of destruction that would echo through the annals of history. Today would mark the dawn of a new era—one where Darth Maul would reign supreme.