#thank you for asking! ♥

[lanistas]

For the end of the year asks, 1, 5, 11, 14, and 21? ❤️

Thank you so much! ♥ And sorry for the long post, I got carried away a bit, oops. *laughs and sweats nervously* 1. Song of the year? “Basta un poco di musica” by Marino Marini. I am deeply in my Italian era again, and I’m telling you, the amount of times that I listened to this song in 2023… it’s like a soundtrack to my life at this point :D

5. TV show of the year? For this one I will have to cheat a bit, because I simply cannot choose between two shows. So, let’s make it a TV show for the first half of the year + a TV show for the second half of the year, please? :) If we talk about January-June 2023, the most important TV show simply has to be “Sanctuary”. My Sanctuary rewatch brought back so many precious memories that I made thanks to this show in the past. “Sanctuary” will always have a special place in my heart. And if we talk about July-December 2023, “Il Paradiso delle Signore”, my messy, super dramatic, but oh so lovely Italian tv show, literally saved me from depression and helped me survive during one of the most difficult periods of my life. I came back to this TV show in August 2023, after not watching it for several years, and my grand return to this fandom was as much unexpected as it was welcomed. I found a new otp (and y’all, they are perfection personified, they are everything that I ever wanted to have as a shipper), I found so many wonderful characters to love and appreciate, so many storylines that inspire me to go and live my own life, to dream, to love, to wake up in the morning and smile because a new day has come ♥ Moreover, this show literally catapulted me back into my Italian period, and I am so ready to brush up on my Italian after so many years of not speaking it at all!

11. Something you want to do again next year? Hmmm… I’d probably want to continue going to the theatre once a month. In 2023 my mother and I tried to find opportunity to go see a theatre performance as often as possible, and we found a way to do just that at least once every month. So, I would very much like for this tradition of ours to continue.

14. Favorite book you read this year? Ummmm… an extremely difficult choice. I’d say it's “Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine” by Gail Honeyman. But “Daddy-Long-Legs” by Jean Webster is a close second.

21. What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year? Literally so many things are new, because last year I moved into a new apartment, and so 2022 and 2023 were years of buying lots and lots of different furniture haha. This year, for example, I got a new bookcase! Finally I have enough space to store all my books and buy some new ones.

[hwaflms]

i'm ngl i was reading happy now but fell asleep midway and had the craziest dream abt jaehyun (...pornstar!jh don't ask, but your thoughts are very welcome, if you'd so graciously provide them 🙏), thank you for this blessing of a fic, i'm gonna go back to finishing it :3

UR SO SWEET??? thank you sm i hope you enjoyed it :(

and omg anon ur on to smth with pornstar!jae i NEED to hear abt ur dream hold on……..,

im thinking about pornstar!jae who knows he’s got a huge cock and acts like it too. no one has ever made a single complaint about working with him because he’s just too good at what he does; he knows just how to use his mouth, knows all the right dirty little things to whisper in her ear, never cums first.

pornstar!jae who catches you watching his latest, and is surprised that innocent little you seems to be enjoying watching him fuck a woman senseless on a kitchen counter, blushing as you keep your volume low at sounds of their pleasure.

pornstar!jae who jerked off to the thought for the first time in a long while, picturing your hand stuffed in your panties while you touched yourself to him, wishing it was you underneath him instead. being the little shit he is, he makes a number of allusions to the incident, driving you mad because you’re not sure whether he knows or not.

pornstar!jae who finally confesses he wants to fuck you in the most casual manner, stroking your bright red cheek with a thumb slowly. you can only imagine his surprise when you shyly ask whether you can make a lil movie out of it, all his thoughts shooting straight down to his cock.

pornstar!jae who has you bent over his balcony railing, drilling into you long and hard, a hand slapped over your mouth to not wake the neighbours. he has your dress bunched up over your breasts, watching them jiggle with each hard thrust, positioning you so you’re facing the lens of the camera. he gives you exactly what you wanted and more, and with each coo of “dirty girl” and each slip of his fingers into your mouth, your moans sound even more pornographic than those of the women he fucked on screen. you’ve already come all over his mouth, but he’s absolutely relentless as he slips a hand around you to rub fast circles on to your throbbing clit.

pornstar!jae who downloads and saves the video on to his ‘favourites’ album, knowing that would be the only thing he’d watch for the next couple months. he knows it would do numbers if he posted it but he wants it to be ‘his special lil secret’, even thought you both know there would be more to come.

[just-french-me-up]

If you'd still like Dreamling kiss prompts, how about 7 or 17?

@martybaker asked : Hello, your fics are so lovely! May I humbly request ‘A kiss to shut them up’ if you’re still taking prompts? 👉👈 @anonymous asked : Thoughts on dreamling 7 or 17 (to shut them up or to distract - maybe even both at once?) for the kiss prompts?

We're shutting him up, yall! This is a Retired!Dream one, in which Dream struggles with the human body and human condition, and can't see how he can measure up to his old self in Hob's eyes. Angsty you say? Deceivingly horny I raise you! I kept this sorta M rated but... hey if there's more to come *winkwink* who knows?

The human body was a curious thing. It required constant attention, fluids, fuel, maintenance, care. And yet it was so... limiting. Morpheus could still remember how it felt, to think of a place and feel the ground shift under his feet without ever having to move. There had been no hunger then. No thirst. No itching, for his skin had never had the notion that it could be too dry.

If he had ever felt those things, it had been because he had chosen to.

Now the world imposed itself to him, there wasn't much of a choice.

Urges baffled him the most. The dryness coating his mouth on a particularly hot day, his mind conjuring up images of cold, condensation-weeping bottles. The drowsiness taking hold of him after dinner, weighing on his eyelids. The burning, devouring heat flaring in his abdomen as Hob would step out of the shower, a towel lazily tied around his hips, the line of hair trailing down his navel guiding Morpheus' gaze downwards.

It was a strange thing, to be overcome by such sensations. An infuriating thing, really. He ought to be able to resist them. He had been able to resist them, once, to ignore them, dismiss them into nothing if he so chose. How vexing it was, to be a creature of wants and needs, when your existence had been nothing but careful control.

He would not tell Hob, but he could not help but feel... lesser. How clever could his mind be, now that he only had access to his own? How good could his hands be, he who had been able to breathe life into dream clay, fashion lands and castles with a single thought? How pleasing could his touch be, now that he was barred from his lover's unconscious? How could he compare to who and what he had been, once?

They had not made love ever since his encounter with the Kindly Ones. Hob had never pushed, reading Morpheus far better than Morpheus ever could, now. There had been times, here and there, when Morpheus had thought they would, with lingering kisses growing deeper, embraces in bed tighter, but something had held him back. Some bitter gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach. Yet another thing he could not seem to control.

Yet he wanted. Desperately, frustratingly so. The most mundane things would strike him as the most erotic sights he could fathom. Hob drinking his coffee in the morning, his Adam's apple bobbing as he'd swallow. Hob reading the day's papers, his gaze intent, focused. Hob reaching up to grab this or that from a cupboard, his shirt riding up and showing his navel, while his tired pajama bottoms hung from his hips, revealing the slight dips there, a hint of hair...

Morpheus' body would betray him often, subjecting him to fantasies and erections that, much like the rest, he held little control over. Unlike food, lust was a hunger he never seemed to satisfy. It only grew.

If Hob had ever caught him staring, he never said anything. Instead, he was highly skilled at noticing when Morpheus' mind would start spinning on itself, feeding the loop of existential dread looming over him. He had taken to giving Morpheus tasks, then, something to focus on. Although it would not quite clear the storm, it muffled it somewhat.

Perhaps he'd sensed another one of Morpheus' spirals that night, when his voice rose from the bedroom.

"Oh, bollocks! Love? Might need a hand here."

As he stepped inside the bedroom, Morpheus found Hob standing by the mirror, struggling with his button-up. He flashed a quick contrite smile at him, emphatically tugging at the fabric.

"Can't manage to button those buggers off," he explained.

"Allow me."

The human condition was one thing, but buttons he could handle. Morpheus' touch was methodical, surgical almost, as he focused on the task at hand, yet three buttons later, he could not help but feel his focus slip. He could feel Hob's warmth under his fingertips. His heartbeat. As he breathed in, Hob's scent filled his lungs, distracting him further. By the time he was done with the shirt, his mind had gone elsewhere.

Hob wore an undershirt, a thin, almost see-through thing. It required barely any effort to see his chest in spite of the fabric. Morpheus' eyes trailed down, heat flushing his cheeks. Mindlessly, his thumb traced the line of hair down Hob's abdomen, his mouth filled with want. He could feel hot breath against his lips. Humans were not meant to withstand such hunger.

They were kissing before Morpheus could articulate another thought, Hob's mouth warm and soft against his, the coarse brush of his stubble adding fuel to the fire overtaking him. No doubt Hob had meant for this to be tender, but Morpheus was famished, taking, and taking, and taking all that was offered until his lungs might explode. He found himself gasping against Hob, nose to nose, forehead to forehead.

"Hey," Hob whispered, gentle to a fault. "It's okay. There's no rush."

Morpheus swallowed hard, feverishly catching his breath. Hob's palm was invitingly cool against his cheek.

"I will keep," he continued. "We don't have to―"

"I want to," Morpheus rasped, weeks of frustration pushing the words out of him. "I want you. I just―"

"Just what?"

The patience in his voice was the lifeline Morpheus held onto as he sighed, embarrassment flooding through him.

"This form, it feels... finite. Flawed. Lacking."

Fallible, he did not say. He watched as Hob's eyes grew round, ridicule joining embarrassment.

"Duck―"

"I am not as I once was," he continued, overcome with the need to justify himself. "I am no longer suited to anticipate your every want. I can not satisfy you to the degree I once could. Everything I have to offer is bound to disappoint in comparison."

Hob's stare felt heavy, too heavy for Morpheus to hold, but as he looked away, Hob took his chin between his fingers, directing his gaze back to him.

"Love, I―. Sex is not about making some kind of... of ranking."

"Your unconscious would rank it, regardless."

"Fuck my unconscious. It's my conscious self who wants you, magic dick or not."

The corners of Hob's mouth twitched at his own joke, but seriousness soon took over.

"I love you," he said, prompting Morpheus to look away again. "I love you. I would love you Endless, I would love you human, I would love you if you were a tentacled monster and hell, you've been that before if you'd recall!"

Morpheus fought back the smile creeping up on his lips.

"I never cared how we'd fuck. Well, I did, but― I did because it was you. I wanted to be with you. I still do."

Hob sighed, and they stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other.

"At least now we know that mind of yours is well and truly yours and not a Dream of the Endless exclusive."

"An unfortunate discovery."

Hob's hand settled on Morpheus' waist, his thumb brushing the fabric of his shirt.

"I do want you," he said. "Whenever you're ready. If ever. But I don't want you holding back because you've convinced yourself I may not enjoy it well enough, according to some cosmic standard you've set for yourself."

Morpheus nodded slowly, his own thumb back to tracing the happy trail on Hob's stomach.

"I have always found you pleasing enough, after all," he dared, shooting a tentative look at Hob. "As human as you are."

Hob made a face, pulling him closer by the waist.

"Your compliments need work, duck. But I do think there's a silver lining to this whole human condition you are overlooking."

"Is that so?"

Hob smirked at him, fully conscious of how devilishly handsome that made him. He had had, after all, centuries to hone those skills. How long would it take him?

"You no longer have access to my unconscious, right?"

"I do not."

"Which means you can no longer anticipate my every want, as you said."

Now that was rubbing salt into the wound.

"Yes," he conceded with a frown.

"Well imagine how arousing it is, my love," Hob said, his eyes darker by the second, "to be able to surprise you."

A warm shiver went down Morpheus' spine, sending his pulse into a frantic race. He swallowed thickly, holding Hob's gaze.

"How arousing?"

"Very. Cock-achingly, one might say."

Morpheus glanced down, finding Hob's trousers tight, his hard cock pressing against the fabric, making his knees weak. The human body truly was weak in the most delicious way.

"I could dare you to surprise me," he teased back, his breathing loud in his ears.

"You could."

Gods, that mouth of his, Morpheus was quite certain he could be undone from that tone alone. But still.

"But should you find me displeasing, you ought to―"

The rest of his words were swallowed into a kiss, unheard and discarded, replaced by tender sighs and wanting hands, and after a while, Morpheus found he'd forgotten what they even were, his mind blissfully blank save for pleasure.

The human body was a curious thing. A highly pleasing thing, at times.

Send me a kissing prompt?

[s0fti3w1tch]

Story 1 - Enemies

*if it wasn't clear, the scene maskless Leo (in this part) are flashbacks from several years in the past

Part 1 || Part 2 (Here!) || Next (Coming Soon)

Masterpost

I'll answer asks from before and after this comic part after my work tomorrow (aka today because it's 1 AM help) ♥︎edit: nvm, I'm about to knock out. I'll get t y'all soon this week!

[treel]

I would love to see your take on "Understand My Ship In Five Minutes" with ZADR ^_^

Ask and ye shall receive.

[tatatale]

Hello.

Please know that you're amazing.

The Undertale community is living a tough time right now, and I feel like the creators keeping it alive and standing don't get enough support.

You are part of that. Your art is amazing. I am not a commited fan of your work as in I haven't been here long and don't interact much, but I know plenty of people who are and that's literally all I need.

People love you and there will always be people thankful to you.

Have an awesome day <3

Thank you anon you're so sweet!! T ω T )♥♥♥

It hasn't been easy for many creators lately, especially due to the group of people who spend all their time harassing creators and trying to harm them as much as possible to protect… non-existent fictional characters.

There are creators who can just block and report these people and simply continue with their lives, but others feel more affected by this and that it's normal, because we are human beings, we do exist.

It's very sad to see creators end up with their health affected, and have to leave from the fandom in order to heal the pain that the toxic people have inflicted on them.

It doesn't matter if you have 10 or 1 million followers. It doesn't matter if you have millions of people supporting you, the fact of getting bad words, lies, threats, and general bullshit day after day, is something that ends up affecting any human being mentally.

We all love fictional characters. But they don't exist, real people are what matters.

So please, I just ask you all to take care of real people.

Thank you for understanding this ´◡`)

[lexiluxray]

your rendition of sycamore is scrumptious, I eat it up every time

Fhfhfhf thaaaanksss I hope I'll keep feeding you well 🧡🧡🧡

As I'm not immune to compliment on my artstyle on a character I adore, I feel the absolute need to draw said character MORE each time I'll receive an ask about it u_u

[wilsons-journey]

How'd Kying react to learning Vale had a sister?

Kying: Why are there two now, ...

-

His Bi-Ass had a small Existential crisis.

[zeroducks-2]

This is quite random sorry but has Dick ever acknowledge (or as close to it) that a lot of things that Bruce did to him are abusive? (this is for a fic I’m trying to write)

Yes and no!

Dick knows Bruce is an assholes and WILL yell at him to stop being an asshole, or at least he used to. Dick would call him out on his BS and wouldn't let him get away with a lot of things, but this was once upon a time, before they rebooted everything and erased decades of character development. The closest he gets to that post reboot is after Forever Evil - everyone thinks Dick is dead, and Bruce wants people to keep thinking that, hence he forces Dick to join Spiral and become Agent 37.

Dick is, as you can imagine, not thrilled. He yells and fights and Bruce beats the everloving shit out of him in a very upsetting sequence, where Dick is half naked and Bruce is wearing most of his gear while he keeps hitting him to the point of leaving him bleeding on the floor of the Batcave.

Dick begs and tries to appeal to everything he can including the "things can never be the same between us after this", to which Bruce essentially replies that it's a sacrifice he's willing to make. Ha. I say that this is especially upsetting because Dick went through a horribly traumatic experience during the events of Forever Evil, in which among other things he was tortured by Thomas Wayne Jr AKA Owlman, who wanted to turn Dick into his own sidekick after losing his Talon. The way Bruce beats and humiliates Dick is drawn in a way which creates a clear parallel between Thomas and Bruce's actions towards Dick, in a way that suggests they're "not that different after all", but this narratively goes nowhere and I don't get why they fuck they even came up with that. But anyway.

All of this gets forgotten soon enough. Despite his own warnings Dick forgives Bruce after a very short time, pines for home and tries to communicate with Bruce in any way he can because he "misses his dad", which to be honest made my guts churn and my bile rise after Bruce nearly beat him comatose. Essentially the story forgets Bruce did all of that and so does Dick, but for the brief time Dick was allowed to be aware of it and angry about it, he was indeed aware that he was being abused even if he never used the word abuse.

This is the case for lots of stories in which similar instances happen, as I mentioned before especially pre-reboot. Dick does call Bruce out on his bullshit - especially if Bruce is being an abusive asshole to someone else, since Dick is way more prone to defend other people than he is to defend himself, like here

or here

But despite being obviously aware that there are issues in the way Bruce does things, to put it mildly, he never uses the word "abuse" (which is sort of a prohibited word for DC standards, kind of like "rape". They're way more likely to say non consensual than rape because it's a less upsetting word apparently).

There is an instance of this post reboot, and it's during a conversation Dick has with Tim. I believe it happens in the Pride comics of 2022, but I don't have the panels on hand at the moment. Basically Tim asks for advice on how to please Bruce, being the man demanding and prone to bad moods, and Dick flat out replies "I spent a very big part of my life trying to please him, and I left when I realized it was impossible" which to me is so interesting since it's the textbook reaction of a former Golden Child who fell from grace and became a Scapegoat (please note that tumblr's definition of Golden Child is completely arbitrary; golden child doesn't mean "good kid", it means a child who the parent holds to the highest standards, on which there are the biggest expectations and the strongest pressure regarding everything the child does. Sometimes a parent lives vicariously through them and perceives them as an extension of themselves, but not necessarily. If you watched Encanto, Isabella is the Golden Child of the family).

Something similar happens during Nightwing's run from the 90s.

Dick lives in Bludhaven and at this point he's gone essentially no-contact with Bruce. Tim, being the new Golden Child, is trying to reel Dick back into the toxic dynamic because he genuinely thinks it's going to be good for both Dick and Bruce.

I'm pointing this out not to fault Tim in any way, he's just a kid what does he know, but to show you that indeed yes, Dick is aware that he's been abused otherwise he wouldn't have left, he wouldn't be on a no talking basis with his parental figure, and he wouldn't reply to Tim that he spent so much time of his life deluding himself into thinking that Batman actually needed him. Of course this also goes nowhere and their relationship isn't allowed to grow or heal (things are just conveniently forgotten after a while), but as I mentioned, Dick knows what's up.

That being said, I believe it's also worth noting that many many times Bruce abuses the fuck out of Dick and Dick doesn't really acknowledge it, just takes it. Sometimes he doesn't have the spoons to fight back, sometimes he thinks he deserves it, sometimes he just doesn't know how to react because Bruce strikes like an unprovoked viper (this happens especially when Dick was still a kid but already a Titan). A very good example of this is what happens after Jason's death.

Bruce doesn't tell Dick that Jason died. When Alfred offers to let him know, Bruce says "I will handle it", and he doesn't. Then there's Jason's funeral and Bruce doesn't tell Dick about it, again Alfred offers to inform him, Bruce says he will handle it. He doesn't.

Eventually Dick finds out for collateral reasons and has an emotional breakdown in front of the other Titans, which are powerless to help him. For reference, this is how he reacts when he has definitive proof that the boy is undoubtedly gone, if there was any doubt that Dick did care about Jason.

So Dick goes to the grave with Kory but then decided to confront Bruce alone, and Bruce, in the abusive feat of the century, blames Dick for not having showed up to Jason's funeral, despite having refused to 1: tell him about Jason's death AT ALL, and 2: refused TWICE when Alfred very gently suggested to inform Dick.

Dick of course argues that he didn't know anything, and so Bruce reacts by gaslighting him, telling him they he never cared about Jason and in fact he was angry that Bruce adopted Jason and not him. Which is not true, Dick just wanted to know WHY Bruce adopted Jason and hot him. Oh and also punches him in the face when Dick tries to argue that Jason was an untrained kid. Please note that when all of this happens, Dick is hurt and can barely stand on his feet, having one of his legs in a cast.

Cherry on top, Bruce explicitly saying that he never should have had a partner and never will again, essentially "our partnership up to this point meant nothing".

In this instance Dick is too neck-deep in his own self guilt to see that he's been through a sequence of extremely abusive behavior, and never really faults Bruce for that, using the easy-coming rationalization that Bruce was in pain, suffering for Jason's death, couldn't see reason etc etc (quick PSA: someone suffering isn't entitled to abuse and gaslight anyone. And even if we really want to enable Bruce cut Bruce some slack because he was grieving, it doesn't make his behavior any less abusive. Regardless of the reasons why, the way he acts here is very damaging towards Dick who in turn did nothing to deserve it, and is grieving Jason too).

See, the problem with Dick and Bruce is the sysyphean nature of comicbooks. Dick is doomed to be the original Golden Child who falls from grace, becomes the Scapegoat, but ultimately can never be completely free of the clutches of the relationship he has and had with Bruce, for better or worse. And since he can't ever truly get out and can't ever completely be independent, the abuse end up getting downplayed. If Dick never truly gets away from Bruce it's because it's not that bad, isn't it? Nay, it's because Dick cant. He is quite literally not allowed to, same as Bruce is not allowed to truly grow from his mistakes and learn to treat his former partner, sort-of-child and dear friend with the respect and love he actually feels for him, because despite all of this and because this is fiction, Bruce does love Dick more than it can be put into words and would set the world on fire for him. But, alas, he also is doomed to keep treating Dick like shit and never really learn from his mistakes.

So again, the answer to your question is yes and no. Dick is aware of how much of a difficult person Bruce is. He's aware of the domineering aspects of his personality. But he will ultimately brush it off in the name of the good that there is and there was between them, and he will keep answering Batman's call every time, because he's not allowed to ever truly grow apart from him. It doesn't matter how much he gets angry and how much Bruce hurts him, they're indissolubly tied in this dynamic and unless there is a huge shift in the way DC execs handle things, I don't see how this dynamic can change in the foreseeable future. Sadly enough, because I'd really like to see something new.

[arcielee]

Ask Me Anything

Summary: Aemond asks his professor some questions.  Paring: Modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3162 Warnings: The smutty smut you all wanted, fingering, p in v.  Author’s Note:  Here is part 2, you can read part 1 Hazy Shades of Spring ♥ This was the poll winner and I had to make it into 2 parts. Also, I am also celebrating that I have over 400 followers now! Thank you all so much for reading, it fills me with joy. A shoutout to my muse and editor @f4ll-for-you​ thank you for your unique perspective and helping me become a better writer! ♥ Also, I got this finished on Ewan’s birthday? Coincidence? Yes, absolutely. My planning and scheduling is terrible.  Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @nina2697 @skikikikiikhhjuuh @itsabby15 @greenowlfactif @padfooteyes​ @danika1994 (If there is a strikethrough, it would not allow me to tag you.) 

Mrs. Lannister had been kind enough to share that even though you ended your office hours early on Fridays, you would often remain to finish the lesson plan for the next week. “She’s the only one who does this,” she continued her overshare, batting her lashes. “The rest of the faculty is already gone for the day…even I’m about to leave!”

Aemond returned a warm smile that was close lipped and allowed his cheeks to dimple, noting the faintest hint of rose to her complexion when he thanked her. His gait was languid with his fluid stride to follow the hallway that snaked through the building and back to where he already knew your office would be. 

He saw the glint of your name on the door plaque and it seemed closed; he stopped and rapped his knuckles on the wood, the action pushing it slightly ajar and allowing him to step in. 

“How may I help you?” You had asked without bothering to look up. Your laptop was open and a stack of papers were tidy on the side, but your focus remained on the one in front of you. 

Aemond thought to when his brother first enrolled in your business law course, his arrogance more obnoxious than usual when he came home to say, “My professor is hot and I am definitely fucking my way to an A.” 

Aemond did not even acknowledge the cocksure idiocracy he spewed and remained silent when Aegon would return with weekly updates before he inevitably begged their grandfather for a suitable donation to help him pass your class. He remembered being intrigued by the professor who, despite the board’s pressure, then only gave Aegon a barely passing grade.

Aegon was furious and Aemond only said: “You could always attempt studying,” with his eyebrow cocked.  

His brother moaned. “Wait until you have to deal with her.”

When Aemond entered the classroom, he remembered you were bold with your gaze and without the hint of fear he often met with other professors. Aegon had once described you as a librarian in need of a good railing, but Aemond liked your tasteful, almost bookworm look, how your hair would be twisted back and the glasses you wore during lectures.

He was dutiful with his classes, but with yours he found himself pressing for more; he would push for answers, often getting a rise from his classmates with his constant disputation, but you were unfazed by it, taking the time to pick apart any argument in your eloquent way and even admitting when he was correct with his verdict. Aemond would wait after the room emptied to approach your desk, pleasantries always exchanged and he liked your smile when you once said, “Are you sure you’re only twenty-two?” 

“Age is only a number,” he replied and relished in the blush that dusted your cheeks. 

Aemond could admit to himself he had a slight crush, but he did not understand the extent of it until the semester ended, until that Friday night. 

With Aegon doing a “study-abroad” in Essos, it was put on Aemond to help with the new restaurant. His uncle had been annoying throughout the set-up, using Aemond for menial micromanaging, and he was relieved with the grand opening, just to be rid of the role of Daemon’s tedious shadow. 

Everything is perfect, though, he thought during his rounds, walking the grand staircase towards the bar when he noticed your backside. 

Aemond did not immediately recognize you. For one, your hair was down, your thick main smoothed into a cascade of curls instead of the usual bun or braid your locks would be in. Also, the dress you wore fit to your curves in a way that looked like you had been poured into the garment, not your usual comfort uniform of a top, cardigan, and jeans. 

He was enamored by the curve of your back, how you were curled over the bartop and your attention focused on something, unaware of the few patrons that lingered with the hopes to draw your attention, before grabbing their drinks and moving on. It was the moment you paused to grab your glass of wine that he recognized your profile.

He had to talk to you.

“Professor?” 

Your hesitation was understandable, but eventually you fell into the ebb and flow of the comfortable conversations he would get moments of during your office hours. His heart jumped when you offered the excuse to take you out on the balcony.  He was enamored with the way you held yourself, the smile on your lips and how he never truly noticed the beauty of your eyes or how your lashes framed them. 

Aemond noted the moments you would hem for words, as if it was an internal debate to say one thing before you would give your genuine thoughts and your upfront honesty was something he welcomed. He noticed the flush to your cheeks and nose, perhaps from the bit of cold in the night air mixed with your passion for science fiction, which he had not expected, and that was the moment he stepped in to kiss you. 

You seemed to meld against him with a soft familiarity to his touch. He loved how your expression brightened when he took your hand and how you moved to keep with his strides towards the car he called for. Aemond waited with bated breath when you paused at the car door, watching when you leaned forward and it exaggerated the curves your dress complemented. He would have followed you to the ends of the earth, but you only asked him to come upstairs. 

The next morning, Aemond woke with your curled so perfectly against his chest, his silver hair between your fingertips. He did not move because he did not want to wake you and allow this tranquil moment to end. You were cute when your eyes fluttered open to take in your surroundings and he handed you your glasses. 

You seemed to not want him to leave and he stayed until Sunday. Even then you hesitated to let him go and he made sure to follow up with you, just a simple text that thanked you for the lovely weekend. He followed to ask when you would be available and was surprised when he did not get even an emoji for a response. 

Aemond waited before sending another text, but when he saw he had been left on read, he let it be. Maybe you thought the weekend was a mistake? Perhaps you had not enjoyed yourself like he assumed you had? 

The abrupt end confused him, until he received an alert from Amazon, suggesting a new book release from an author he made sure to follow. 

Your pseudonym, an anagram of your first and last name. 

He read Hazy Shades of Spring in one sitting and knew he had to see you again. 

“Hello, professor,” Aemond stepped into your office. “If you have a moment, I came to seek out your expertise on a matter.”

Your expression was stunned, your lips parted for a moment and your cheeks rosy from his severe gaze, his one sapphire eye glinting in the office light. “Yes, Aemond, hello,” you struggled for the greeting. “Please, sit down. How may I help you?” 

There was the probability of running into him on campus, but you had not expected for him to come directly to your office. Your eyes could not help but drink in his lithe figure, the grace of his movements as he seated himself in the chair across from your desk. His expression would have been stoic except for the slight upwards curl of his lips, amused by your flustered state. 

“I had some questions in regards to one's penumbra rights,” he began, watchful of your reaction with his deliberate words. “I think I could be a victim of unwarranted appropriation and I wonder how that would hold in the court of law?”    

You could feel the blood drain from your face and your tongue pressed against your bottom lip, your teeth biting as you brought it forward to try and relax your jaw. The gesture was subtle with your attempt to calm your nerves, but it was not missed from his intense gaze.

Aemond fucking smirked. 

Your eyes narrowed on him. “You would need undeniable proof of tort liability,” you began, your voice hoarse with your reply and you cleared your throat before continuing. “It would need to be undeniable that your likeness had been used without consent.” 

There was a pregnant pause; you refused to ask what he may or may not have and you watched the dimples line his cheeks with his knowing smile. “I believe I do have proof,” he finally said, reaching into his jean’s pockets and retrieving his phone. “It’s an ebook that was just released.” 

Oh, fuck. 

You force your features to relax and watch his screen light up, filled with text. “His mien is breathtaking, the sharp contours of his features-”

“That description could be used for any protagonist worth noting,” your voice interrupts, almost shrill; you find yourself standing on your side of the desk, your hands pressed on top to anchor you.

“Perhaps,” he replied, his eye flitted to you for a moment. Your breath came out slow through your parted lips, watching as he looked back at the screen and continued to read. “The severity of his gaze was offset by the sapphire stone-”

Your moves are quick and clumsy, coming around the desk and clasping your hands over his; your cheeks are flushed and you are bold with your stare. “Aemond,” you finally find your voice. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

There is a moment that his expression hardens, a flash of an emotion that is wiped away and instead his perpetual smirk returns to play at his lips. He pulled his hands away, pushing to stand while tucking his phone into his pocket.

You fall back as he takes a step towards you, his silver hair spilling forward when he leans forward to hold you attention. “I actually came for clarity,” his eye flits to your lips and he purses his own for a moment. “I had thought we had a lovely weekend together, but every reach out I attempted since had been left on read.” 

“Aemond,” you say his name with your exhale, breaking away and looking at the floor. 

His head tilts with a slight hum as he looks over your stance; your bottom is pressed to the edge of the desk and your arms stiff at your sides, with a hold on the profile that has your knuckles white with your grip, like you could not trust your idle hands.  

“I had thought,” he softened his tone. “I thought I had done something to offend you, or perhaps… you did not enjoy yourself, until…” you looked up and saw the glimmer of hope that danced through the aloof façade of Aemond Targaryen. He didn’t finish the thought and instead said,  “I also came here because I want to take you on a proper date, to go to an agreed location, where I will be punctual and we will have dinner together.” 

You cannot form words; your face is burning and you make a noise of disbelief, a mixture of a gasp with an almost laugh that stops in your throat by the touch of his warm palm to cup your cheek. His hold keeps you from looking away again, his stare intense. “I am telling you what I want, why I came here.” He leaned forward until the tip of his nose touched yours, the breath of his words fans your jawline and you can feel the ripple of goosebumps all over. “But if you are not interested, tell me now and I will stop. I will leave you alone.” 

You did not want him to leave you alone.

In fact, that weekend was on an endless loop in your mind. After he left, you began to write, fervently, and with every keystroke, you poured the intimate, delicious details into a transcript, hoping that when you sent it in, it would empty your mind of him.

It did not and Aemond consumed your thoughts. You remembered the ease of conversation, the comfort of his presence, and how you craved his touch, how alive you felt pinned under his steady gaze. 

Now he was in your office and his steady gaze was burning; you bit your bottom lip, your fervor basked in the flame of his stare, savoring the warmth that he exuded. His scent washed over you, just his proximity made your skin feel aflame. 

The moment ends when Aemond relaxes his stance, falling back a step, and only then did you react. Your hand touches the junction of his shoulder to his throat, your fingers curling around the back of his neck to bring his lips to yours. He welcomes your mouth with a lusty frenzy and you moan when you feel his tongue move to taste your mouth. 

He closes in on you, his thigh pushing your legs apart and his hand on your jaw to tilt your head, moving to ghost his lips on the column of your neck until they reach your ear. “I love that you are a woman of action,” his husky tone and words tickle your skin. “But, remember, I require verbal consent.” 

Your hands move to his jawline, your right hand hovering and careful to not quite touch. “Yes, Aemond, please,” you beg him, your eyes wide. “I wanted to reply but I…” 

He interrupts your words with another kiss and he is hungry to taste you again. Your arm wraps around his neck and the other hand is pressed against his solid chest. His hands move to follow the curves of your hips and wrap around to cup below your ass, bringing you flush against him.

Your hands drop to unbutton your jeans and you feel his warm palms slip into the waistband of both, pulling your underwear as he peels you bare. He presses against you, lifting to set you on the desk edge before kneeling in front of you and unlacing each Converse shoe. Aemond sets them aside and returns to grab the fabric to pull it off; you burn from his stare and he leans to kiss the inside of your knee, his lips trailing your thighs and his hand pulling himself to stand again. 

You watch him bring two slender fingers to his mouth and wet them with his tongue, before they dip between your thighs. A gasp spills from your kiss-swollen lips when he touches you with familiarity, following the crease of your wet folds and the slow curl of his finger inside you. 

He watches your response, the arc of your back with the rub of his fingertips in your velvet walls until you mewl his name. Aemond hums, a smile to his lips, and adds a second finger, continuing the same come hither motion to that same sweet spot. His wrist shifts, allowing his thumb to press against the nub above with ample pressure and you moan loudly to his touch. Aemond continues his ministrations until he feels you clenching; there is a lewd sound of your wet heat and how his fingers continue to fuck you through your climax, until you whimper from the overstimulation. 

You look at him through lidded eyes, still on the curtails of your release; he licks his fingers clean with a grin, his gaze narrowing on you. “Is it better than the book?” 

Your look hardens and you push from the desk, desperate to pull his shirt over his head and the fall of his silver tresses tickle your face; your cardigan falls to the ground, your fitted shirt follows. He is still smug when you place your hands on his chest and push for him to fall back into the chair, your touch falling to unbutton his jeans. 

Aemond lifts his hips to bring it down enough, his hand wrapping around the base of his member. Your mouth waters at the sight and you step to straddle the chair, lowering yourself so he can line with your entrance before you sink further.  

You moan as he fills your velvet walls and he wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into your neck and allowing you a moment to adjust to his size. With slow breaths, your nails bite into his shoulders and you press onto the balls of your feet to rise and lower onto his length.

There is a soft echo in the office with the lewd noises, the suction of your cunt to take him in and your wanton moans when he begins to thrust upwards, meeting your motion. He presses his lips against your ear with the hot whisper, “Stop clenching or I won’t last.” 

You almost purr from the sensation, turning your head to find his lips. “You’re fine,” your voice is breathless. “I’m on the pill.” 

He stills and you look to see his pupil blown, taking you in; without a word, his hands grip into the soft flesh of your ass and he moves to lift you. You squeak your surprise, your legs quick to wrap his waist as he takes a step towards the desk; the polish wood is cool to the touch when he sets you down, reaching behind you to clear away the clutter and laying you back on the desktop, positioning you until you are nearly folded in half. 

This new angle has you a mewling mess of tears, the flutter of your cunt encourages his fingers to bruise into your hips with a brutal pace until you see stars. 

You can feel the twitch of his cock and a low, guttural groan from the back of his throat with his peak. Aemond leans forward, his forehead damp and pressed to yours, his breath warm with his exhale until it evens again. 

He looks and notices a box of kleenex, reaching for it and is careful to clean the mess. You sit up, still feeling the trough of the waves of your release tingling over, your hand moving to pull the hair tie and your fingers comb out the braid.

Aemond rightens his jeans, but does not button them; instead, he looks at you, another hum as he reaches to cup your face, bringing his lips to your forehead and then tilting your head back to find your lips. You stare at him a moment, warm from his touch and also shy at the realization you are still very much naked. 

“What now?” You ask, pushing to stand.

He pulls you against his bare chest and your heart flutters from his warmth. “Depends,” he murmurs and you pull back to look up at him. “Which restaurant did you want to go to?”

[oc-center]

Welcome to OC-Center's BIRTHDAY PARTY! 🎉

One year of sharing people's OCs to give them visibility, one year of a growing community, one year down with many to go ♥ Below I will share the OC-Center Wrapped, to see everything about this year in stats! 🙌

In the meantime, what better way to celebrate than showing off your own OC in this big party photo?

All your OCs are cordially invited to join in the festivities - add them to the picture in a reblog with a short tidbit introducing them to everyone; that's the best way to make friends at a party!

Will you accept OC-Center's invitation? 🥳

OC-Center Wrapped:

Anniversary: 11th of December Posts: 3,331 Followers: 866 'Needs Love' (posts with 10 notes or below): 41 Most popular original post: Bubble Web post

Number of OCs shared: 3233 'humanoid' OCs: 2261 'anthro' OCs: 646 'creature' OCs: 403 Submissions shared: 226

What a wonderful year! Thank you everyone, and here's to the next one ♥

Ressources used for stats:

Tumblr Stats: https://jetblackcode.com/TumblrStats Tag Counter: https://drunkonschadenfreude.com/

[ardate]

Favorite sentimental object?

Here's an embroidery one of my best friends made when he was learning the craft - it's a boat seen from above, with waterlillies surrounding it.

He gave it to me and now it sits among my other random decorations and I hold it dear to my heart, because it's from him, and I love him so.

[bothincluded]

Hi chomping on your art btw (it’s so amazing)

whoa wait i'm not done!!

[kymsys]

(Hi I'm so sorry to message you like this but I thought you'd appreciate being told, also please don't take this as an attack I am just tryna let you know so you can have that information:

So using triple parentheses (((like this))) is historically been used by people in the context of being actively antisemitic. (You can google "triple parentheses" for more context but afaik Tumblr still doesn't like links in asks). It's definitely not what you meant (which is obvious from context) in this post: tumblr . com/kymsys / 756719382685728768 /teaching -lesson -ive- been- working -on-a-game ?source =share but I thought you should know because there's definitely some people who will get jumpscared by it, which I figured would probably not be great if you're advertising a game you made (which looks super cool!) Sorry again for messaging you like this, I wasn't sure the best way to do it but it felt unfair to not let you know how it might be interpreted

Have a great day!)

OHH actually i had no clue at all, this is the first time i have heard of this!! thank you for letting me know, i appreciate it a lot ♥ ill run back to my post and adjust it 🙏

[shrimpbat]

it's 12 am and i drew this in mspaint your pfp inspired me

BAXIE'S FIRST FANART IS THIS AND I COULDN'T BE HAPPIER ♥ I will cherish this thank you. 🙏

[flx-res]

Wow, the ending scene of the story reminded me of the scene where Globgor held Glossaryck's crystal in "I'm all ears!... Or eyes". It was amazing!

yES! OmG someone noticed!!! 🤩 I'm so glad you remembered that fact about my alternate universe 💗 According to my scripts, "Im all ears!... Or eyes" is set 5 years after "Butterfly Metamorphosis"

I said that in "Stellar Collision" because I thought I needed to show you the things that happened before Glossaryck died and why this time he left his crystal to Moon... I'd like to elaborate more but I don't want to make spoilers UuU