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#but they never support little artist and writer

targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months

Text

Pearl of The Realm

Aemond x wife!reader | HOTD Big Bang!

Summary: Duty meant a lot of things to Aemond. But he had hoped that it would not mean marriage. And when the day comes for him to confront it, he finds with his new wife, small, naiive and innocent, that there is some pleasure to be found there also.

Word Count: 9,240 (oops) | Warnings below the cut~

A/N: My fic for the HOTD Big Bang! Thank you to the lovely @solisarium for the artwork! 🥰 Please also support all the other lovely writers/artists over @hotd-bigbang, and thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for organising this event ❤

Warnings: arranged marriage, virginity loss, p in v sex, domination, corruption kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, canon typical sexism, aemond has a breeding kink (obvi), dark!aemond (ish)

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

To the realm. His title. But most of all, his family.

As a Prince of the Realm, he had many duties.

For most of his adult life he had trained relentlessly with the sword, striving to become better than his own teacher.

He had buried his nose in books, absorbing information from them, willing them to stick to the insides of his head to obtain intelligence unmatched by any other member of his family.

And, most of all, he had upheld his faithful relationship with his mother, whom he cherished dearly, and his sister equally.

He'd always felt close to the women in his life. But his mother had a special place in his heart. She had been through such hardships, such sacrifice.

And when she'd exploded that night in Driftmark, as inexcusable as she seemed the behaviour to be, he had felt such utter devotion towards her that she would be so angry on his behalf. At a time when he had felt so vulnerable, and felt that his own voice as well as hers had been ignored by the man in their lives.

A man who had so repeatedly, let them down.

He would never admit it out loud, but a part of him sought pleasure in the fact his father was largely bed-bound these days. Even more so that his own father had lost an eye as a result of his worsening condition.

It felt like the Gods were looking down on him and validating him.

But there was one duty he had yet to perform.

Taking a wife.

Unfortunately for him, that time was upon him, and he had no interest in it whatsoever.

As much as Alicent tried, and she really did try, she could not get her second son interested in courting the ladies at the Keep.

As soon as Aemond clapped an eye on the opposite sex, he would retreat in the opposite direction. Not even bothering to engage in conversation, surmising perhaps that he had little in common with them.

He'd never met a lady before who shared the same interests, why start actively seeking them out now?

Alicent's son was in his prime, rooted in adulthood, and she knew it was time, like it or not, that he was wed.

Aemond stood stock still, hands behind his back curled into fists, biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to show his mother the annoyance on his face. Her words were those of truth. He knew that he would eventually have to marry someone, but it did little to take the sting away from it. Often, while his mother talked at him, he looked down at his boots, shifting his weight from his right, to his left, and to his right, again, batting little thoughts in his head.

What his mother didn’t know is what those ladies at court said about him while they supposed his back was turned.

That he was of a violent disposition with a quarrelsome temper, one wrong movement or something as simple as a word spoken out of turn and he would dare not speak to the person in question for however long he deemed fit. That women thought of him as incapable of feeling something as beautiful as love, or even affection, given the sullen look he always wore, with barely-contained anger lurking beneath and an unexpressed pride in his position.

Aemond would never show that such words would have any effect on him with earnest. Sometimes it is better to not say anything at all, he concluded. This method had so often proven successful, it seemed little use to him to stray from it now.

He merely hoped that this woman his mother spoke of with such respect, was not one of the ladies at court.

And mercifully, Aemond sighed with relief that she was not.

Something struck deep within his chest. His mother spoke of her so wonderfully, as if she were a star plucked from the sky, and Aemond pondered if such attributes could be proven correct by simply meeting her once, as Alicent had. What woman, and of what standing, deserved such praise, after only meeting for a short time?

What would she look like? Her mannerisms, her stature, her smile? He found himself haunted by these thoughts without even knowing the woman’s name. Much less, her appearance.

He feared that she might share the same sentiments as the other ladies at court once they were due to meet, chaperoned by her ladies and tainted by their company. Perhaps they had their own opinions that they instilled on her also. She might be afraid of him, he thought. Maybe it is not so bad if she feared him, he allowed himself to think.

Aemond could not find it in his heart to expose himself so willingly to a stranger he was due to wed, and so when word reached the Keep that she had arrived and made her pleasantries, he thought to have mercy on the poor thing, stay clear and not dim her supposed ethereal presence with the darkness that followed at his back since the day he lost his eye.

There was some power in not allowing her to see him until their wedding day.

While a small part of him felt empathetic to the poor girl, that her betrothed chose not to greet her on arrival, another part of him was somewhat self-assured that he had made the right decision. It was the little power he felt he had.

When one thinks of a wedding, they might imagine the Sept beaming with joy, crammed with people all eager to feast their eyes on the new royal couple. But as Aemond stood before the Septon, with the extended feeling of nervousness at the fact she had yet to arrive, he could hear nothing.The Sept was dead silent. The people, the lords and ladies, as well as his family, were in attendance, watching with wide, curious eyes, too terrified to make a sound.

His hands were rigid behind his back, dressed in his finery, feeling the tightness of his clothes against his chest where his heart was hammering underneath.

For duty. For family.

He did not see her at first, as she was on his blind side, but once she’d well and truly stepped beside him, he spared a glance at her and felt his mouth go utterly dry.

Her dress, which he presumed were her house colours, was a light pastel, almost dream-like when combined with the translucent silky fabric graced atop it. He watched with curiosity as she let go of her father’s hand. Her gaze and almost undetectable smile was warm and inviting, as if the space around her was simply alight with her presence. Her father peeled the cloak from her shoulders, and it reminded him that he had the cloak with the Targaryen colours fisted in his grip.

Her hair was pinned up in a series of braids, all varying in size, and he was ashamed to admit that the first thought that came to mind was not that she looked beautiful with them, but that they must be uncomfortable. He was allowed to have his hair loose around his shoulders, whereas this woman, and he supposed others like her, were prodded and poked to look their best to the detriment of their comfort.

Aemond found it impossible to stare ahead and listen to the Septon, and he could’ve let a heavy breath loose when he was asked to cloak her. He swallowed over the lump in his throat that had formed and lifted his gaze to look down at her. Her bright, warm eyes looked up at him, revealing nothing about what she was really thinking, and her lips were full and looked soft, forcing him to think what they would feel like when they would sign their marriage with a kiss later.

He took a breath and placed the cloak on her shoulders, half thinking that such a heavy, large thing would swallow her whole, for her form was smaller than his, and therefore more delicate. Placing his hands on her, but not directly, still felt somewhat intimate, especially in a room of so many people watching. But something stirred deep within when he stepped back and observed that the colours complimented her, like she was meant to be his and belong to him.

They faced each other as the Septon spoke.

Aemond watched every micro-movement. The fluttering of her eyelashes, the deep intakes of breath through her nose and her thumb brushing over her hand, in what he could only assume was nerves, though she was hiding it well on her face.

It was only here that he noticed she wore a dainty pearl necklace, not at all gaudy in size, but small and delicate, like he perceived her to be.

A feeling he didn’t know hummed in his blood. And it showed when both of them were asked to conclude the ceremony with a kiss.

“With this kiss I pledge my love.”

Aemond had to be the one to lean down to meet her in the middle, and he felt his blood thrum when their lips met, excited to find that her lips were as soft as he had imagined. He could not help the lewd thought that passed through his mind, and wondered if the rest of her was as supple and luxurious.

Curse the wedding feast, he wanted to find out right after the ceremony.

He was not overzealous with the kiss, not wanting to frighten her. But he was equally delighted when they parted to the applause of the lords and ladies, to find that her cheeks were faintly bloomed with warmth. His lips pulled into an indistinct smile at the idea that he was the first man that would have made her feel that way, and it pulled a possessive string in Aemond’s body towards her.

He took her hand in his and led her away from the Septon, through the line of people, and relished in the fact that she was now his. Aemond felt somewhat ashamed when his manhood began to harden within his breeches at the mere touch of her hand, and wondered what hers would look like wrapped around it. If her fingers could barely encircle it, and if she would be good and pliant, do as she’s told, and please him.

The wine during the feast surprisingly did nothing to quell the hardness between his legs. He yearned so desperately for her, sat right next to him, posture straight and proper like a good lady wife, with her hands clasped so delicately in her lap. She had yet to say a word to him and he thought she must have been raised very strict, not speaking to her betters without being spoken to first, and now that person was her husband.

It was difficult not to look unimpressed when the various lords and ladies all queued up to provide their congratulations to the intimate little table he and his wife were seated at during the feast.

He watched his mother beam with joy, though he and his wife had not spoken. Aegon had snickered, clearly thinking something inappropriate. And Otto had bowed, offering congratulations as if he had not been involved in the match behind the scenes along with Alicent the entire time. Did he think he was stupid?

Not even his father had managed to pull himself from his bed to offer his congratulations. But, Aemond thought then, he was glad he didn't have to see his face.

At times he could suppress his sheer boredom and impatience, he wanted them all to leave him alone so he could fuck his wife and see what pretty sounds she could make. With the absence of her voice, it only made him more impatient to find out.

Surely, the girl might not have been afraid of him? He thought.

Aemond almost regretted hoping she was afraid of him, but there was some dull excitement in thinking she was, even now, with how beautiful she looked. When he takes her maidenhead, as he was sure she was entirely pure, would her soft eyes look up at him in fear, or in pleasure, or both?

He found his gaze wandering over her for several quiet moments, watching her profile as she scanned the hall, observing everyone else enjoying themselves. Whilst he appeared somewhat indifferent to her to anyone else’s untrained eye, he was otherwise calm and collected. Her lips glistened against the warm amber glow of the candles adorning the table, and he could not hide his delight in seeing how she swallowed nervously. She must have felt his gaze on her, he thought. And as he watched her throat bob, he was drawn to her chest, where the pearls lay, and watched as her breathing pushed her breasts somewhat over the bust of her dress.

He imagined those pearls dancing while he fucked her, her breasts moving with the rhythm of driving his cock into her sweet wetness. Her lips parted with hurried breaths as she struggled to gain it while she appeased him with the sound of her soft moans.

“Are the celebrations to your liking, wife?”

He smirked, testing the title on his tongue.

The insides of him glimmered in excitement when she turned, her posture still perfect and straight. Her wide, innocent eyes met his with curiosity, and also fright that he had spoken to her in such a way. She almost seemed to flinch at the new title he’d referred to her as.

She gave an almost indistinguishable nod, her grip tightening on her hands, “Yes, husband, thank you.” She replied with a wavering voice.

She studied him for a moment, watching as he gave a lopsided smirk, adoring the way she seemed so nervous in his presence, and speaking to her husband. He drank slowly, continuing to watch her squirm under his gaze. Her breathing had hastened, evident by the way she struggled under the tight confines of her boned dress.

Her voice was smooth, like the sweetest honey, and he couldn’t wait to hear how it would translate, echoing throughout their marital chambers, with his flesh pressed against hers.

He never imagined merely envisioning power over something so delicate could be so exhilarating.

Aemond had to hide how elated he was when their leave was announced. He stood, and therefore she did as well, like a delayed little shadow.

She was an obedient little thing, he surmised, as she followed quietly, willfully ignorant to the leering glances and smirks of the lords and ladies who parted a path for them. Every single one of them was curious, as to how such a quiet, soft girl could tame someone so fearsome and chaotic as a dragon prince, who could not be caged in as mere mortal men could.

The chambers seemed too grand, too clunky, to house such a perfect thing as her, he thought. She stood stock still in the middle of his chambers, which he would now share with her, and watched amused as she looked around and took in her surroundings as if she were in some kind of danger. Her pupils flitted about the darkened room, lit only in a warm glow from various candlesticks placed most deliberately.

Her pale dress cast a glow against the grey of the room, as well as her aura, which seemed to lift all the tension from his body and direct it to the place he had needed her the most since he laid his eye on her.

The glass decanter clinked as he poured himself a cup of wine, his back to her.

Aemond turned and extended the decanter only slightly, asking wordlessly if she would like one as well.

But she simply wringed her hands and shook her head, her body wracked with nerves.

Aemond only chuckled, cup of wine in hand and looked upon her, standing so diligently, where he’d left her.

“Wine might dull your nerves, my lady wife.” He mused, watching the way she looked down in embarrassment at being able to see inside her head so clearly.

Every now and then, she would peek over at the well made bed, like it was an inevitability, and not a place where she would share her most intimate and passionate moments with her new husband.

There was a dark red blanket held taught atop the pale sheets.

A warning.

There were never such dark, stark colours atop her bed sheets at home, and she wondered silently why they would choose such a menacing colour to adorn a place where you may lay your head to rest.

A peaceful night’s sleep. A moment’s passion. The birth of a child.

She thought, beds are where we are born, where we sleep, where marriages are made, where women give birth, which is often their last. And where we die. Not necessarily in that order.

Her husband may have thought a bed a peaceful thing.

But to her, many dangerous things may take place in a bed. And she had heard the stories of a dragon’s temper. Of lords, not necessarily of royal standing, taking their wives on their wedding night, whether their wives were willing or not. And this, is what she feared.

“You need not be so afraid.”

He tore her from her thoughts. And she blushed and felt warm all over realising he had caught her staring at the bed, her body betraying how nervous she felt.

When he looked at her, he felt his manhood throb. He wondered if the blood would rush to her cunny the same way it rushed to her cheeks, and how her flesh would cover her delicious curves beneath the softness of her gown.

He felt excited when she opened her mouth, forcing the air into her lungs like it took all her effort.

“May I ask for your assistance with my gown, husband?” She asked sweetly, with her eyes downcast.

Husband.

He felt his cock become impossibly harder.

He poked his cheek with his tongue in amusement, pushing himself off what he was leaning on and made towards her, watching the way she shrunk the closer he got. She turned slowly, showing him her back, where the laces of her dress were tied so tightly, he was surprised she had not asked him sooner.

While he worked on them, loosening the fabric around her middle, his breath hitched when he saw the shift underneath. She moved her hands to her hair, pulling several pins from it where the braids had been twisted together. She visibly shivered under his touch when the laces were undone and he pushed the stiff fabric apart across her back.

Her hair fell to her shoulders, and she used the sharpened tip of the pins to undo the braids into delicate wavy strands, all while unaware how her new husband marvelled at her out of sight.

She walked away from him for a moment to the vanity, never meeting the looking glass with her eyes, but simply placing the pins in a trinket bowl. With the gown loosened around her shoulders, the fabric lifted when she reached up to unclasp the necklace.

“Leave that on.”

She met his gaze in the mirror, questioning. Her cheeks alight with what he was suggesting.

But he didn’t say anything else.

So instead, she cleared her throat quietly, and pulled the heavy dress from her shoulders, folding it lengthways and draping it over an armchair. Her fingers clasped and unclasped, anxious. Aemond merely watched, his doublet feeling tight and hot against his chest. He could make out the silhouette of her form beneath the thin cotton, the candlelight illuminating her, as if her body was the soft and gentle morning sun, peeking over the horizon to set the day alight.

He heard her shuddered breath and allowed himself to think about what it would feel like against his neck while he rutted into her. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him closer to her, to sink deeper into her hot insides.

“I do hope that…I please you…with my appearance.” She murmured, turning with her body to face him from a distance. She sounded embarrassed, and shy.

Aemond furrowed his brows.

“Why do you say such a thing?” He asked, colder than he had meant to sound. And it’s clear that the tone of it made her shudder more, which he didn’t intend.

“I only meant that…I hope I am pleasing to the eye…and that I shall be obedient and supportive, as a good wife should be.”

He fought the urge to smile, not wanting to embarrass her further. His silence towards her had clearly given her the wrong impression. That he didn’t approve of her, and perhaps she thought that she wasn’t suitable for him because of his reaction.

“Come here.”

She did as he asked, albeit slowly, until she stood right in front of him.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Does my appearance scare you, he thought with curiosity, and panic.

Does my ailment make you uneasy, as it does the other ladies?

She shook her head softly, “No.” She answered quietly, “It’s just… my Septa said…that the night of consummation would be…” she trailed off, speaking too quietly for him to hear.

“It is alright. Speak again, without fear.”

She swallowed as she looked at him, having to crane her neck.

“She said…the night of consummation would be painful…and that it must be endured. As wives are to be submissive and obedient to their husbands.”

She spoke as if she were speaking from a line in a book. And Aemond thought she must have had this idea stamped into her brain from a very young age. It both concerned and irritated him to think that a young child, forming into a young woman, would be forced into being so terrified of such intimacy by a caregiver who ultimately knew little about marriage.

“There will be some pain.” He replied simply, watching the way she flinched at his words, “But I do not wish for you to endure it simply because you have been told to.”

His fingers came to the tresses of hair that hung on her shoulders, threading his fingers through them and revelling in their softness. Her eyelashes fluttered and her lips parted, absorbing his words, and he could see behind them that he was challenging everything she had ever been told.

“If there is pain, you must tell me.”

She inhaled slowly, gathering her nerves, and nodded simply.

“Come. Lay on the bed.”

Though he spoke softer, there was still a coldness to the way he gave his demands. But nonetheless, she did as he said, and stared up to the canopy of the bed, feeling her heart going so fast she was sure it would burst from her chest.

All she heard was the rustling of leather, the unlooping of his belt, and the clinking of his silver clasps.

She felt the mattress dip at the end of the bed and saw her new husband, without his doublet, but with his breeches only untied halfway, so she could not see a thing. But even so, the sight of a man naked on his torso had her heart still in her chest, and warmth crawl up to her cheeks. Aemond chuckled slightly, not wishing to embarrass her.

“Have you seen a man bare before, little one?” He asked, laying down beside her. She tried with the utmost effort to not stare at him, fearing that in some way she would anger him. His chest was well-muscled and pale, shimmering in the low light of the chambers and littered with many tiny scars that had silvered with time. His hair ran like milk over his shoulders, so silky it seemed to stick to his smooth skin.

She shook her head, and mouthed ‘no’. His manhood throbbed in his breeches at the thought that she had not even seen a man beneath his clothes before, and that he would be the first.

“It is alright, there is no need to be embarrassed.” He gave her a soft smile, trying his best to appear comforting.

But it could not be ignored that they were strangers, and it was his fault that he had not gone to see her before marriage and get to know her better. And on top of that, she was afraid, not of him, but that he might hurt her and that it would define her expectations for the rest of the marriage.

She flinched noticeably in shock, not out of fear, but at not having been touched so intimately, when his palm ran softly up her leg, taking her shift with it.

“Relax.”

She tried to do as he said.

She was so jumpy and nervous, Aemond wondered for a brief, funny moment, if she had even spoken to a man before today.

So he asked a question which he thought was almost silly to ask.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

His question was answered immediately when she flushed and her face went all warm, and suddenly she was unable to meet his gaze. She shook her head softly. And instead of feeling bad for her, a devilish grin split across his face, all the blood going south.

She was so pious, and so devoted to the Seven, that she had saved any part of her inner desires for her husband to be.

He would be the first to give her pleasure of any kind.

To touch her intimately.

To make her feel as beautiful as he thought she was.

“It is alright. I shall show you.” He added softly, his voice like the purr of a cat.

She dared to look back at him as his hand trailed higher, dipping beneath the hem of her shift to touch her smooth skin beneath, “How will it feel?...”

“It may feel strange at first,” He answered honestly, “But after that, it should be pleasurable.”

She seemed to accept his answer, but her legs were pressed together almost instinctively, like her body was telling her it needed to appear smaller. His sharp nose pressed into her hair, inhaling her pleasant, female scent. His breath against the shell of her ear, hot puffs of air landing against her neck, where he began to place one, and then two open-mouthed kisses.

His eye wandered over her from this angle. Looking down her body, he could see the shadow of what lay beneath her shift in between her breasts as they moved with her breathing, which was slow and calculated. He could see how her hands held the bedsheets below her in her palm, not tightly, but prepared to pull on them if she needed.

She shivered with a shuddered breath when he kissed her, trailing his lips lower to her collarbone, past her string of delicate pearls, and he could see that beneath the cotton, her nipples had reacted to the chill of the room, but he liked to imagine that it was because of the way he was touching her so lovingly.

His hand completely slipped past where her hip met her leg, not touching her womanhood just yet, but close enough to feel its warmth. He felt the gooseflesh on her tummy as he trailed upwards, the shift bunched against his arm when his palm slid over her breast. She gasped softly as he squeezed tenderly, testing the weight of it in his palm and kneading it, and when he looked up to her briefly, she had closed her eyes.

He would tell her to open them later, after he did what he planned.

Her hips moved towards the mattress when his deft fingers dipped between her legs, the tips parting her folds to her entrance first, where Aemond began to feel the slick, as little as there was, gathered around it.

She was beginning to feel aroused even if she didn't know it.

She whimpered, pressing her lips together when she felt his fingers in such a strange, forbidden place. Her eyebrows furrowed in discomfort.

"Shh…" He cooed, the air brushing against her cheek, "Relax, dear wife."

She swallowed thick, and relaxed her thighs so that they weren't pushed together as much. The title he'd given her making her head feel as if it were full of air and nothing else.

A part of her felt bad. For she was supposed to be an obedient, pliant little wife, and he was taking care of her so diligently and she was still afraid.

"I apologise-"

"Do not apologise." He replied quickly, and her eyes opened, glistening with a new expression of understanding, "Only feel."

Her breath quickened.

Feel?

"Feel how I touch you here -"

He drew his fingers from her entrance to her pearl, drawing little soft circles using her arousal for ease. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes glued to him, a near-indistinguishable gasp falling from her lips. She began to feel a sort of ache, deep in her stomach that felt strange. And her hips began to move in micro-movements.

"This is where you feel the most pleasure." He whispered, his fingers moving sometimes directly and then indirectly over her pearl. At others, the anticipation of them being close to it had her hips searching for the touch.

"How does it feel?" He asked.

She struggled to think of a word, having never felt this dull and yet pleasurable rush to her core.

"Strange…pleasantly so."

He continued to move slowly, not making a direct effort to make her peak like this, just allowing her to feel what the touch of a man, the touch of her husband, could feel like.

"I will prepare you like this, so that there will be as little pain as possible."

Maintaining eye contact while he said things like that, while he did things to her like this, felt so intimate and so painfully domestic. As if nobody had bothered to care for her so much in her life. Her eyes curiously flitted between his seeing one and his eyepatch, not in fear, but wondering what he might be hiding beneath it.

It would not be removed this night. Or perhaps many to come.

Aemond's fingers moved over her womanhood with ease, more slick began to pool there and lubricate her puffy folds, swollen with arousal. She was wet, but he thought not prepared enough for his cock just yet.

He shifted his body down, his cheek grazing over her still clothed form, as if he was teasing himself. He could easily have asked her to be naked for him. But there was still trust to be gained.

Her eyes were questioning where he might be going. And she truly had no idea.

Using his knee, he settled between her legs, seeing the gooseflesh still there. His hands rucked up her shift, just pausing at the point where it would reveal her womanhood, all slick and ready for him. Her cheeks bloomed as she looked down at him, but didn't have the courage to question.

"Keep your eyes on me." He whispered lowly, his fingers pushing the fabric up so that he could see her cunt, so close to his face. And he was hit right then with the invigorating scent of her, like the sweetest perfume. He felt ashamed that even the scent of her aroused little cunny made his cock weep with arousal.

She looked more embarrassed than anything to have her new husband's face so close to her intimate area she had been taught to keep hidden. And it was hard for her to keep her legs apart. But she couldn't close them for fear of clamping on his head, and his hands were tenderly keeping them spread, his fingers only slightly indented in her supple flesh.

He looked down upon her, his thumb grazing her pearl again and watching with delight as her hips moved again, accompanied with a breath. It was simply too tempting, the idea of tasting her and the sweet nectar that leaked from within.

Holding her thighs, he leaned forward and flattened his tongue against her womanhood, and something primal was awoken inside when he finally tasted his new, little wife. He moved around her folds, and whenever he had to take a breath he placed an open-mouth kiss to it. He spared a glance up at her, and he hadn’t even heard her hurried breathing or tiny whispers of moans, so engrossed in tasting her for the first time.

Her cheeks were alight, her eyes torn between settling on his gaze and what he was doing to her. He had already told her to keep her eyes on him, and Aemond felt pleased that despite how embarrassed she was, she was obeying him.

Aemond redoubled his efforts, using his tongue to part her folds and nuzzling deeper against her, his nose rubbing gently against her pearl and using his wet muscle to dip against her entrance. It’s here that she gave some semblance of a proper moan, slipping shakily out of her throat, her hands tightening on the bed sheets.

He all but moaned against her cunt, delving into the deepest parts of her and dragging his tongue against the top of her velvety walls, trying to find out why she was the way she was. What made her feel the best. How he could make more of those pretty sounds tumble past her lips. He thought he could have spent all his life between her thighs, lapping at her arousal, and he would die a happy man.

In his grip, her thighs began to shake, and her brows furrowed like she didn’t understand what this feeling coursing through her veins was, this fire ablaze in her blood. Pride flooded his head, and he dragged his tongue from the inside of her to her pearl, where he drew circles over it. She jolted in his hold, as if he’d scared her, but he knew that it was because of the overwhelming feeling that was beginning to crest over her, and the uncertainty of it.

With his attention and efforts on her bud alone and she was suitably wet, he looked up at her when he touched her entrance with the pad of his finger. He heard her gasp when he slowly sank one digit inside her, he himself struggling to keep his composure once he realised just how tight she was around his finger alone. And he could barely think straight thinking about how she would feel wrapped around his cock.

He could forgive for the time being that her eyes were closed and brows furrowed, for the new sensation must have been strange for her. Something akin to a strangled whine rumbled from her chest when he was sank all the way inside, curling upwards. And when he brushed against that spot at the top of her walls, gently caressing the slick ridges, her back arched slightly off the mattress, and he smiled against her womanhood.

It appears his little wife was becoming emboldened in her movements by what he was doing to her.

As he continued to please his wife in two separate ways, almost instinctively, her hand came to his bare shoulder. To pull him close? To push him away? She wasn’t entirely sure herself.

He could tell she was on the precipice of something she was unable to comprehend, and was embarrassed to show herself in such an open way.

“What is it, sweet wife?” he asked, drawing his lips from her, now covered entirely in her arousal when he licked at it.

Through her loud pants, she regained her breath as he continued to tease that deep spot inside of her, “What is…” She breathed, her grip closing around his shoulders. Her nails dug into his flesh, not meaning to, which made him smirk.

“Shh, it’s alright.” He cooed, pulling out slightly to slide a second finger inside, using the girth of his fingers to stretch her cunt around him, “I am just making sure you are ready for me.”

He began to pump his fingers inside her like he would fuck her, curling them up to focus his attention and pressure against the sweet spot at the end of her. She was so tight around him, already trying to suck him further inside and clenching hard. He felt his skin stretch around her grip on his shoulder, like she didn’t realise how hard she was holding him.

“ - Aemond - I’m - ”

Aemond.

The way she called him by his name.

There was no shame now in how hard it made him, and he felt as if he would spill right in his breeches and not inside her if she was going to say things like that.

A breathy whine made its way from her mouth, her eyes tightly shut as her face twisted in pleasure, feeling all the pressure leak into her limbs in bliss while Aemond kept pleasuring her, loving how her body was uncontrollably trembling with the force of her peak. He could feel the rush of slick coat his fingers and hand, so he slowed down the pace of his movements, allowing his sweet wife to savour the feeling she’d experienced here for the first time.

“That was your peak, little one.”

Her eyes opened to focus on him, feeling her body erupt in shivers as he pulled his digits from her and smeared her wetness over her thighs, thinking that as erotic and lewd the action was, that is excited her at the place where her husband had just been caressing with his fingers and tongue.

Her pupils were dilated only a bit larger than before, and Aemond felt pride in being the first to make her feel such things, awakening a part of her that had remained dormant for a long time. And while she had been emboldened by what he’d done to please her, her cheeks still bloomed with a faint embarrassment that he found endearing.

His hands traced her sides, taking her shift with it, and her breath hitched at the idea she would be entirely bare before her new husband, who had just given her the first experience of female pleasure. But alongside the trepidation, there was excitement.

Once he pulled her shift over her head and raked his gaze over every inch of her body.

It was a fucking crime that she’d been hiding herself under that gown all evening, he thought.

He thought she was perfection, with her soft and supple curves, and he hadn’t even realised his calloused hands had been kneading her breast until she let out a breathy sound. But she didn’t protest. She just appeared somewhat uncomfortable, as this was the first time she had shown herself so openly to the opposite sex.

“You are beautiful.”

She seemed to calm at least when he said that, relieved her husband found her attractive.

He saw her eyes flit from his one seeing eye to the eyepatch covered one, curious. But she simply swallowed thickly and didn’t say or ask anything. And he too was relieved that she hadn’t asked him to remove it.

He was not sure if he would be ready for that, for some time.

She still wore the little pearls around her neck, and now with her entirely naked with the exception of that, it felt erotic and arousing.

They were the same.

She wore the necklace, he wore the eyepatch, keeping a tiny piece of themself while they joined in matrimonial bliss.

He unlaced the rest of his breeches, watching her breasts move up and down as she breathed in anticipation of what was going to happen and the irreversible fact that she would never be the same afterwards.

“Remember what I said?” he asked, pulling his breeches over his hips. His achingly hard cock sprang free, standing proud and aroused against his stomach.

She took a moment to reply, trying not to stare too much at his member as he stroked himself slowly, the ruddy tip, weeping with arousal, poked out of his fist with every languid movement. She’d never seen one before. But all she knew was that she wondered how on earth it would fit inside her, he looked so thick and long, slightly curved to one side. Was there empty space inside of her she didn’t know about where he would place himself?

Her eyes met his, all glazed over, and she nodded.

“If there is pain, I must tell you.” She repeated what he’d said earlier. Her skin bloomed, for that moment was here right before them.

She tried to relax her body, numb from the force of her very first peak, as the mattress dipped either side of her where he’d leaned on his forearms, his knee brushing the inside of her legs as he nudged them apart so he could place himself there.

“Yes, you must.” He added tenderly, “It is not my intention to hurt you.”

The affection in his words made her stomach roll.

“You are my wife.”

She confirmed with delight that she was. And she nodded, not knowing what to say in response to his statement, but Aemond could see the subtle glimmer in her eyes.

He saw her glance at his manhood with something akin to a mix of fear and curiosity, and she took a sharp breath in as Aemond leaned forward, not pressing his weight on her, and placed several open-mouthed kisses to her jaw, neck and collarbone, teasing her with his teeth, while his cock kissed her puffy folds.

She felt his breath at her skin, her grip loosening on the sheets as he made her feel a little more relaxed.

When he leant forward, parting her folds easily with the aid of her slick, the first thought she had was that it felt strange, but nothing else in particular. It was only when his cockhead had disappeard inside her and he speared her upon his length that she began to tense up, her stomach tightening somewhat unpleasantly. Her hand came automatically to his chest, to try and push him away and make him stop.

He raised his head from her neck, his eye hooded down in concern. He felt her soft, almost-hummingbird-like touch on his chest and felt something fluttering inside of him at the tenderness of it. She was in some pain, not dramatically so, and yet her touch was so gentle.

Nothing was said, and only the utmost patience was offered. And it was difficult to do so for Aemond, with the way her core was holding him so tightly, to stay still and not move an inch. But for the sake of making her feel safe, he did it.

After a moment, she made an effort to relax her muscles for him. Her hand trailed over his muscled chest, as if taking this small window of opportunity to do so. Her fingers ran over the scars he’d gained on his lithe form, wanting to commit every ridge, every little piece of him to her memory as if it was the last time she’d ever see him.

Her eyes shifted to him once he sheathed himself inside her all the way, bottoming out with a low groan. He felt her walls fluttering around him, stretching her to accommodate this size, having not felt anything like this before. Her lips parted to let a soft pained sound past her lips, but that was all, and she felt the worst was behind her.

It felt only slightly uncomfortable, but she was willing to do it for this marriage. To please him.

It was intimate, looking right at her while he was deep inside her, and she gave the faintest of nods, telling him without words that she was alright. She thought she'd never felt more full in her life, nor more connected to someone as she was right at this moment.

It hurt at first, yes, but he had prepared her, waited for her and cherished her like she was precious. And the pain, the sting of losing her maidenhead, was a small price to pay for how full her heart felt, by giving a piece of her to him.

Closing his eye, as if to concentrate, Aemond moved almost entirely out of her to push back in as she gasped below him, the same feeling the second time had a spark licking at her insides that didn’t stop as he began his slow and careful pace. He wanted to tear his gaze off her, desperately, but couldn’t.

It was just as he imagined. With every soft thrust inside her, the pearls at her neck danced, and her cheeks were flushed, eyes shimmering. It wasn’t as animalistically lustful as he envisioned. Before he imagined an innocent thing like her, bending to his will, corrupting her in any way he saw fit.

But now more than anything as he listened to the gentle moans come out of her, he wanted to protect her, to nurture and watch her flourish. The pearls clicked against each other at her neck, her breasts moved, nipples pebbled with arousal, and she’d raised her legs only slightly to wrap around his waist, blinking slowly up at him.

The whore Aegon had gotten him to fuck on his thirteenth nameday was overzealous, large-breasted and older, perhaps more experienced. She had bounced on top of him, her loud moans bouncing off every surface in the room, her hands planted on his chest as she moved her hips up and down on him with loud slaps. He remembered feeling horrified that this is what intimacy was. That this is what men would desire so relentlessly.

It didn’t feel good. And he remembered feeling sick.

But here, with her, looking so lovingly up at him. No hysterical moaning, no pathetic whines to boost his male ego. Just unapologetically everything she was feeling, she was giving to him.

It felt like a gift. To experience real intimacy. And with the person he was due to spend the remainder of his days with.

As if realising he was daydreaming, his hips still moving against her with wet slaps of skin, her hand cupped his face, on the unmarred side, and her thumb stroked over his cheekbone. She touched him so softly he could have wept.

She had seen some kind of thoughtfulness on his face, and in the throes of consummation, was supporting him.

“Aemond.”

When she said his name with such sincerity and care, he blinked slowly and reached his hand up to hers, encircling his fingers around her small wrist, and turned his face into her palm, to kiss the inside tenderly. One kiss to her palm, and one to her wrist. And it felt more intimate than kissing on the lips, which he only now realised with shame, that he’d not done for her yet.

“I am alright.”

He looked at her when she said that. It was as if she could see all of his inner thoughts, and had been able to all evening.

She saw that he had been holding back.

He had been afraid of frightening her, and yet she was allowing him what he wanted.

Her breath caught in her chest with a kind of excitement as his fingers wrapped around her wrist and forced it down to the bed beside her head, his other hand joining her other to keep her pinned tightly under him to the mattress. Her eyes glimmered as she looked up at him, watching his expression change to something more possessive.

“Put your legs around me.”

She did as he asked and raised her legs around his waist, causing his length to brush that same spot inside her that he’d pleasured just moments before. And with an iron grip on her wrists and easier access to her, he dipped his head into her neck, her scent swirling around him and fucked her as he had wanted to the entire evening.

Skin slapped against one another with the moisture of her slick on his pelvis, his stones hitting against her repeatedly with every rough thrust into her wet cunt.

"Does my innocent little wife like to be properly fucked, hm?" He grunts, watching how she blushes and turns her head away out of embarrassment.

"I think you will continue to surprise me, little pearl."

She felt her insides clench at the name he gave her.

Little pearl.

Aemond smirked, increasing the intensity of his driving into her, constantly spearing her open onto his cock, and watching at the way he disappeared into her.

"I can feel you tightening around my cock. Did you like that? Little pearl?"

Her breath was sucked from her with each devastating thrust, and that same pressure was beginning to build in her belly, from when he'd pleasured her before.

"Answer me.”

"Yes - yes, husband - " She replied, breathlessly and gulping for air, throwing her head back against the bed sheets.

He smirked, leaning back and watching how his cock was being covered in her slick everytime he pulled out of her.

He pulled her hips onto his lap, and the angle had his cockhead bullying her tender and sensitive place deep inside of her. Her eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, feeling utterly at his mercy.

Feeling proud of the reactions he was getting, his hand slipped from her hip to her bud. Her pearl. A grin splitting across his face at the lewd thoughts he was having. He circled her sensitive bud tenderly, applying just enough pressure that she clenched around him again.

If she wasn't careful, he would cum right there and then.

"Does that feel good, little one?" He teased her in a low tone, not ceasing his endless pace, pushing himself as far inside her as he could.

"Do you like it when I touch you here?"

She couldn't deny she liked it. The way her back arched, being pleasures in two ways. It was nearly overwhelming. And it took her voice from her.

"Perhaps we should name you Pearl of the Realm." He smirked, increasing both his pace and pressure, "Prim, proper…a good little obedient wife to her lord and husband."

He leaned over, changing the angle yet again.

"But in here, with me, it is this pearl I shall be paying special attention to, dear wife."

His words made her tighten around him, coupled with the intensity of the pleasure he was giving her. She felt her entire body get hot, the pressure in her belly set to explode at any moment.

His delicate and careful ministrations to her bundle of nerves was almost too much, and her hips began to move forward towards his in rhythm with his cock stretching her open, meeting him halfway.

She didn't imagine such lewd words would have an effect on her.

"Husband - "

"I think I will keep you like this. All night if I have to. Paying special attention to this precious pearl you have been neglecting for so long." He mused, his words were strained, as if set to explode himself.

"I will give you my seed. Over and over. Until I am done with you." He breathed through heavy pants, his eye slipping shut, "I will watch you swell with my child. Would you like that?"

She could only whimper in response, fisting the bed sheets as she had nothing else to hold onto, her mouth dropping open as her climax began to crest.

"I would like that. To see these perfect tits all round and full."

The idea of bearing his children was only a fantasy that appeared right at that moment.

"Gods - you are so tight - such a perfect little cunt - fuck - "

She fell apart around him, her entire body filled with such eternal feeling bliss that she felt as if she were floating, her husband's deft fingers still pleasuring her bud.

Her limbs felt numb, her blood like fire under her skin and her lips dropped apart so that a shattered moan could escape her, the only proof that her peak was decimating every nerve in her body with blinding, white hot pleasure.

She tightened impossibly around him, and the pistoning of his cock into her sex was only stilled when he slammed inside her one last time. His length throbbed within her, his spend warming her core at the end and filling her, completing this sacred, intimate ceremony.

They both gulped down air desperately and when Aemond had caught a moment to himself, he spared a look down at his sweet wife, her delicate skin covered in a soft sheen of sweat, eyes shut, breasts shifting erratically with her breathing.

She must have felt his gaze on her, because she turned her head to look up at him. In her once innocent and naive gaze he once saw fear and trepidation. And now her pupils were blown wide and glimmered with lust and a kind of pride that she'd pleased him, and they'd done this together.

Aemond still had a grip on her hips, noticing the red marks where his fingers had been. Her body was littered with them, where he'd been too tempted to nibble at her, to make sure she bore the marks of his passion for her.

He looked down where they were joined, pulling out of her and watching with a lustful curiosity at his spend that leaked from her entrance. It was instinctual, the way two fingers scooped up what had come out, and he gently plunged it back into her as far as he would go.

Overstimulated and tired, she winced, bucking her hips slightly.

Aemond only smiled down at her.

"I can hardly wait to make you a mother, little one."

She laughed a little, exhausted, "You speak of children. We have only lay together once."

Aemond took her reply and smirked, pulling her thighs close to him again.

"In that case - might we try again? I dare say I have already forgotten the first time."

His little pearl smiled tenderly up at him. A safe smile. One of utter adoration. It was like he was being seen, truly seen, for the first time in his life. She had been so good to him in the short time he'd known her, and cared enough to let him see her as well.

He felt fulfilled in a way he never had before. Something exciting ran through his blood, like how he felt whenever he trained. As if a new challenge were upon him.

Challenging the notion that had been placed upon him his entire life, that marriage was about ownership. As a wife should belong entirely to her husband.

And while he felt that sheer possessiveness before he really knew her. Knew her properly.

Now, he questioned if marriage was more about respect than anything else.

The fabric covering his eye now felt so heavy. And one day, he thought, he hoped to be able to show himself so openly to her, as she had done for him.

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

And he would pay his little pearl all the attention she so deserved.

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

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starseneyes · 2 months

Text

Heart-Warmed and Teary-Eyed: Kindness Matters

I have a P.O. Box that I check once a week. Right now, I mostly use it for letter correspondence with my friend @always-coffee—a tremendous published poet and beautiful human I met by chance online.

Monday she said she mailed her latest letter. So, I stopped by the Post Office on the way home from dropping the kids at school on the off-chance it made it through USPS faster than normal.

I found no letter inside, but a flyer from the Post Office saying they were holding something for me that wouldn't fit in the box. I wondered if Ali had sent a letter that was too tall (because she has such amazing stationary). I had no idea what was about to happen.

I glimpsed the package as they pulled it from a cabinet and wondered what on earth Ali sent me. That was not a letter.

Then I saw The Golden Notebook Bookstore label and knew it was something @neil-gaiman related.

For those who don't know (normal people who don't follow Neil on social media, for example), that is the local bookstore near Neil's home in New York. He periodically signs books for them that are sold with zero markup.

I am a fan of Neil as a writer, but also as a human. I don't follow many celebrities—a side effect of my set-kid youth—but I did follow Neil last year during the WGA Strike. Been a fan of his for ages, and Neverwhere is my favorite book.

Ali knows all this, and I just knew she had done something sneakily sweet.

I rushed home with a smile on my face, trying desperately not to set off the speed-trap on the road back. Let me tell you, driving speed limit when excited is not easy for me!

When I finally whipped into my driveway and sprinted into my house, I carefully opened the package (more excruciating slowness) and tried not to cry happy tears when I saw what was inside. Wrapped tenderly in bubble-wrap rested... a book.

What You Need to be Warm is a poem Neil wrote that features illustrations from some of the best artists in the industry. That in itself is wonderful. But the mission of this little book is what is so amazing.

See, the sale of every copy supports UNHCR—the UN Refugee Agency. This book literally helps people when you buy it.

I have wanted to buy a copy for ages, but you all know I thrift and buy books secondhand. I didn't want to do that with this book.

I wanted to buy it outright to ensure the maximum amount of money went to support the cause. So, I have been waiting until we were a little more stable so I could buy it full-price, outright.

Thanks to Ali, I have a copy that was purchased outright (so it helps people in need) and it is signed!

Yes, it's a signed copy with pen bleed on the opposite page, and all.

I would never do something like this for myself. You all know I am woefully practical and doing things for myself isn't second-nature. I’m working on it, but it is slow coming reprogramming a lifetime of behavior. So gifts like this... oh, they mean everything.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude that such a kind soul would do something like this for me. Thank you, Ali.

#Gratitude #Acts of Kindness #What You Need to be Warm #UNHCR #Good People Still Exist #And Ali is one of the brightest stars shining in the dark

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pascalpvnk · 2 months

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take it from me

pairing: latino!joel miller x f!afab!reader

summary: joel is a simple man who simply finds pleasure in pleasing you.

warnings: moodboard used for aesthetic purposes - does not represent the reader description, 18+ MDNI, no timeline, no specified ages, no mention of sarah or ellie, LATINO JOEL (most translations within the text except for some reused pet names/common phrases). This is porn with minimal plot (but unrelated plot I canon—his favorite artist is Linda Ronstadt and I stand by it.), Joel maneuvers reader, manhandling essentially, no other descriptions of reader other than nipple piercings, body worship(?), Joel’s filthy fucking mouth, mention of thigh riding, oral (both receiving), unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, mentions of intense emotions, aftercare.

word count: 3.3k

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

a/n: fun fact, I’m a virgin, so if it seems far fetched it’s probably because it is. anyways, a special shoutout to ramon nomar for being the muse for this piece, another to @mrsswilliams for beta-ing and fueling my horny antics, thank you to my spanish teachers for guiding me to this moment (probably not your intention but I digress), and to you for taking the time to be here and hopefully enjoying! happy reading xx (banners & dividers by @saradika-graphics)

Addicting is the only word Joel Miller can muster up to describe you as his mind clouds with lust each night he’s alone, bucking into his own fist and spilling his sins after he’d met you. Of course you’re beautiful and charming above all things, but he can’t help the way his cock stirs after simply a phone call from you describing your day. How you miss him and want to meet up again soon.

Joel isn’t the brightest man, which he is very self aware of. But what he craves to learn about you, what your favorite flower is, favorite ice cream, your desires, outranks any level of intelligence a man could hold. He wants to please you, not for a superficial reason to use against you down the line. He enjoys your smile and the way your eyes crinkle, your dimple making an appearance on occasion, and it makes him feel good. The little things shine a light in his chest, ever the people pleaser.

However, he finds a red, hot desire to rouse you, make you squirm under his tender touch. To watch every fiber of control and tension dissipate from your being.

But he’s cautious.

He’s treading on thin ice within himself. He wants to give and give and give, but he’d never forgive himself if he overwhelmed and alarmed you. Your wit keeps him on his toes, tempting and trying his willpower to take things at a palatable pace.

But he’s just a man at his simplest form, a glutton for pleasure wanting to carve himself a home within you and give everything he has to please you.

You found yourself perched upon his lap, a forgotten movie droning in the background as hands and lips explore new territory. Joel firmly guided your hips, firstly against his own, then he aided you across his denim clad thigh after you wriggled your pants to the floor.

Choruses of Spanish praises, filth, ‘mamita, use me’, and phrases alike rolled off his tongue effortlessly as he found pleasure within your own. Consuming every moan, gasp, and ‘don’t stop’ you were so eager to give.

He struggled to deny your beautiful pleas to get him off as he had for you. You knew he wanted you to, there was no doubt in your mind considering the prominent bulge straining and begging you to. He reassured you, or rather made excuses for himself to ease the guilt he felt at your subtle disappointment.

I’m not coming in my jeans in front of the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.

You said you had work in the morning, anyhow. We outta get’cha home, preciosa.

Joel kissed you softly as he pulled up your pants, grabbed his keys, opened his truck door for you, waited at red lights, and finally as he dropped you off at your apartment building, sealing the night with melted wax, branding himself on your heart until you meet next.

Made it home okay, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.

And he does.

His head is already spinning at the thought of going out with you again. He’s showered, trimmed, even ironed his flannel before making sure it’s buttoned and tucked properly. Well rested is not one of the qualities he’s adorning—no thanks to you running his imagination rampant—but the adrenaline he feels, and the coffee he drank at noon, make up for his lack of preparedness.

At the end of the day, those things don’t even matter. Joel Miller makes it as far as his front door when you ring, bringing you inside with the intention of grabbing his own keys. His hands find you instead, your face in a gentle caress as he compliments your attire, your appearance as a whole, and your waist as he kisses you with increasing fervor. You don’t stop him, and he doesn’t stop himself.

“Ay dios. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you all day,” he mumbles against your neck, walking you backwards to his bedroom. His shirt wrinkles under your tight grip, suffocating him until you pop each button open one by one. You leave him in his black undershirt, half untucked in his dark washed jeans.

The back of your knees find his mattress before you even realize, forcing you to sit parallel with his waist. He takes his time, always calculated with his hands on every sweet spot he can reach. Joel cups your jaw, admiring your blown out pupils and the raw lust overtaking your features.

“Wanna take good care of ya, now,” he soothes. “Just say the word and I’ll stop, you know I’ll stop for ya, promise.”

It’s half of a promise to you, half of him asking you to promise to tell him if it becomes too much. You nod, reaching for him once again.

“No, chiquita,” he holds your hand to his chest. “¿Me prometes? You promise me?”

“I promise,” you say clearly and wholeheartedly. “On my life.”

With your renewed consent, he folds himself over to kiss you deeply. His tongue dances with yours, similarly to a few nights prior but with increased desperation. Fingertips graze up your sides, nerves twitching under his subtle touch, only unlatching your lips to lift your top over your head. His eyes fixate on the pebbled flesh and metal protruding your bra, making quick work of the clasp before removing it.

“I knew you had something hiding underneath this,” he muses, toying with the fabric of your bra between his first two fingers. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier, hm?”

Joel skims his thumbs on the underside of both of your breasts, attaching his mouth to your collarbone. He suckles your delicate skin, committing the taste of your sweet musk and desire to his memory. He softly licks over one of your nipples, taking in how your head tips back with a sigh. He brings it into his mouth, nipping and assuaging the pierced bud until you manage to free his shirt out of his waistline.

“Paciencia, amor. Patience, sweetheart, please,” he pacifies as he guides your hand out of reach from his belt. “Just wanna savor you. Can I?”

You nod and opt to tangle your fingers in his curls. Approval seeps through his smirk as he continues his ministrations for as long as he pleases, feeling accomplished each time your hips chase his.

Joel stands up straight, running his calloused hands over one of your clothed legs, meticulously pulling each shoe and sock off and tossing them to the side to find later.

“Do I need a condom, baby?” He mutters against your knee, toying with the hemline of your pants.

You tell him no and quickly explain you’re clean and protected. Something in him visibly switches, desire becoming carnal. He clings tight to his sense of control, desperately willing himself to give himself to you, not give into himself.

Joel drags both layers of bottoms down your legs, watching you challenge him by keeping them clamped together. He exhales heavily through his nose, your limbs relaxing slightly, but just enough for him to retake control.

“Christ, looks like I was wrong again,” he sighs, smoothing his flattened palms over your open thighs. You can get prettier. “Oh she’s pretty, mamita. All this for me?”

A gasp falls between your lips as you’re tugged closer to the edge of the mattress. Your head spins, the only thought crossing it is Joel. His hands. His words. His filthy mouth and how it’s mere centimeters from where you want him to be. Need him to be.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling the scratch of his blunt facial hair on your inner thighs. His lips tease the sensitive skin around your pussy.

“What?” He coos, fingernails biting your flesh. “Dime, baby. Tell me what you want.”

It feels pathetic, you’re completely at his mercy, stripped down on his bed while he remains fully clothed over you. He has you in the palm of his hand, putty waiting to be molded and shaped however he pleases. Bliss has already warped your features, the anticipation of what’s to come already numbing your brain.

“I want you,” you cry simply.

“You have me, don’t ya? I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

Frustration bubbles in your belly. You’re truly not annoyed, but the tension might snap you in half before he gets the chance to.

“Want you to touch me,” you plead. “Want you to make me come, please.”

Joel hums with content, thumbs pulling your cunt open from the outer lips. A slick, sticky mess you are, hardly touched and begging to come. Arousal seeps from you, finding its way to your tight hole. You watch Joel wet his lips, the self restraint slowly dwindling from his gaze.

“Show me,” he huffs. “Be good and fuck your hand f’me. Wanna see how you like it.”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clanking against itself is enough for your hand to fly below your hips. Relief floods your nervous system the moment you circle your clit, hips lifting and chasing the friction. Sighs leave your parted lips, eyelids falling shut with pleasure.

“Ah ah,” he corrects. “Eyes on me, beba. Sigue jugando con esa flor bonita. Mírame.” Keep playing with that pretty flower. Look at me.

You comply with his request, half lidded but maintaining eye contact nonetheless. Your fingers toy with your cunt lazily, eyes settling between his burning gaze and his taut boxers. His length strains beneath the thin fabric and his hand twitches at his side.

“I love watching you, mami,” Joel purrs. “Wish y’could see how perfect you look right now…perfectly wrecked just for me.”

His words egg you on, pace quickening on your throbbing clit. Moans spill from you as you watch Joel squeeze at his seemingly uncomfortable erection for his own relief. His other palm keeps your legs spread for him, kneading desperately at your thighs as you work yourself towards the edge.

“¿Quieres que te ayude, mamita?” Do you want me to help you?

Joel settles on his knees, both palms splayed against your skin to keep you pinned down. He licks a broad stripe from your asshole to your clit, sucking harshly on your labia before diving into your weeping cunt, all while audibly sighing with delight at your taste. Your hand instinctively rushes to grip his curls.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he grumbles while putting your hand back where he says it belongs. “Keep playing with yourself. Make this pretty pussy cry all over my face, cosa dulce.” Sweet thing.

Your digits pulse against the nerve bundle, shocked by the sensation of his tongue swirling inside of you. It’s absolutely obscene. He slurps up everything you have to give, edging you until your legs clamp over his ears. Joel sings into your cunt, a delicious melody that sends you into a frenzy. Your walls flutter around him as he guides you through your orgasm, nose nudging your hand out of the way to make more room for himself.

Your gaze drops from the ceiling to his blissful face, thick eyelashes brushing his flushed cheeks as he savors you. It all begins to feel like too much as you grip onto his shirt. You pull the cloth towards you and he gets the hint, dragging his mouth away from your pussy and removing his top.

“So desperate to come, mamita, already finished with me?” He cants, smoothing a thumb over your kneecap.

“No- just need a breath,” you pant. You take in his features, broad shoulders with a strong chest, thick arms. His hair alone has you running laps, the sparseness of it littered on his torso and below his belly button, his curls tousled already from your hands, and his beard—fuck his beard—is absolutely soaked with your arousal. He makes no attempt to wipe it clean before kissing you. The taste of your cunt dances on your tongue as he licks into your mouth.

“Joel,” you sigh, his lips leaving yours and trailing down your neck. “I wanna suck your cock, please.”

“You wanna suck it?” He smirks, slipping his hand beneath his boxers before shoving them off of his thighs. His fingers slip through your folds briefly before he deposits your cum onto the tip of his dick. Mischief plays on his expression as he opens your legs once more.

Joel slowly stuffs his cock into you, not your mouth but your pussy. A gasp escapes you, morphing itself into a moan. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him in deeper.

“Thought you wanted to suck it,” he grunts with a devilish grin, grinding his hips down into yours.

“Hmm, I’ll suck it later,” you draw out with a smile.

He leans down to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, gently nibbling on the sensitive skin before pulling off.

“God, mamita,” he exhales. “Love fucking this pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

His hips drive into yours at a devastating pace, only using a portion of his length to massage your pussy. You quickly adjust to him, allowing him to thrust deeper into you. You cry his name while simultaneously having all of the oxygen punched out of your lungs. Joel swallows your wails whole, moaning against your lips in return.

Your legs tense around his body, face twisting up with pleasure under the weight of his. Lips drag against your skin, anywhere he can reach. The room spins around you, eyes rolling back into your head as his hand snakes down to play with your clit. You desperately claw at Joel, gripping his curls in one hand and bruising his back with the other.

“Dámelo. Give it to me like I want, sugar,” Joel coaxes.

The bundles of twine prickling your flesh and holding you together in one piece snap, your body completely shattering into a million fragments underneath him. He stays buried inside you as you pulse around his cock, humming into your neck and soothing his hands over your burning skin.

Joel gently settles onto his side near you, cupping your jaw and kissing you feverishly. You shift your body to face away from him, pushing back against his soaked erection. His eyebrows furrow, grunts of detest coming from him.

“No, mami, I want to look at you while I fuck you. Ven aquí, come here,” he corrects, grasping your arm to guide you to press up chest to chest with him. A brief hiss escapes him as the cool jewelry brushes up against his nipples.

“These’ll be the death of me,” he sighs, latching his mouth to yours once more as he maneuvers you the way he wants.

His cock slips easily back into your wet heat, arms trapping your upper half against his as his legs anchor to the bed to buck into you. He grips onto your ass for leverage and you find yourself holding onto it with your own palm. It’s slower, intimate, reeling you in to take more, to take it all.

He draws another orgasm from you. Your heart thrums against his hardened chest, his pounding against the confines of his ribcage. He collapses on his back with a breathy groan, sweat perspiring on his forehead. You push back his sticky curls as he catches his breath this time.

“You still wanna suck it?” He chuckles cheekily, offering but not forcing.

He’s surprised as you eagerly crawl down his body, curling over his thigh while taking his cock in your fist. Your back is to him once more, but beggars can’t be choosers, especially while he’s stuffed in your mouth so perfectly. His fingers drag along your spine, palm splaying flat to soothe the sensation quickly after. His hand stills and stomach flexes as you take as much of him as you can, pumping your tight fist over the remainder of his length.

“Fuck me,” he shutters mindlessly, “feels so good, amor. Treating me so good.”

The praises fuel you, moaning around his tip as he continues to trace shapeless trails onto your back. Your mind feels cloudy, not thunderstorms and impending doom cloudy, but rather a sunny, breezy, nothing could ever go wrong kind of cloudy. You feel taken care of for once, free to slip into a warm, blissful state with Joel. He feels safe.

“Come back, preciosa,” he grins as you make your way back up his body. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you deeply once more, running his hands gently all over your skin as you settle on top of him.

“Missed ya,” he chuckles, kissing your swollen pout a few more times before wetting his fingertips with his spit. He reaches down, circling your clit as his cock twitches against your seam. Your head falls beside his, feeling too heavy to hold up on your own.

Joel protrudes your cunt once more, nestling into you carefully at first. You writhe over him at the push and pull of his cock inside your fluttering walls, hips snapping down against his with subtle slaps of skin rejoicing. He picks up his pace beneath you, overwhelming your senses a bit too quickly.

You work your core to sit up, fully sheathed with his length as you grind against him. He grips onto your hips, watching you use him for your own pleasure.

“Tan bonita, amor,” he hums smugly, his fingertips dancing along your bare thigh, his other hand tucked behind his head to prop himself up. “So pretty, mami, fuck.”

He tweaks his fingers against your nipples, pinching the pebbled flesh carefully as you ride his lap. Tufts of his neat pubic hair scratch at your clit, the friction of everything causing you to soak his lap further. You’re being pushed to your limits, throat dry and voice hoarse. Joel wishes to have put water on his bedside table, he would’ve had he’d known you’d end up here so quickly.

“Doin’ okay, sweetheart?” He checks in, toying with your fingers that have found a home on his chest. You silently nod, eyelids low and face contoured with bliss.

“Think you can give me one more, bebita? Come on my cock one more time and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Your voice hardly sounds like your own, but you mean it when you tell him yes, please. He feels it when you clamp down on his length, his thighs tensing so tight they almost cramp. His legs hinge at the knee, body pivoting you forward into his chest. Joel grabs fistfuls of your ass as he fucks up into you, all of the air leaving your lungs.

His grunts and groans become less calculated and intentional, thrusts becoming sloppier and instinctual. You squeeze him tight, toes curling as you already tumble towards your impending high.

“Mierda,” he hisses, strong arms pressing your torso firmly to his. His lips consume your every breath, whine and borderline scream.

“Take it, use me, amor. Dámelo, cariño, and I’ll give you my cum. Take it from me,” he grunts sharply, pressing into you impossibly deeper and faster. Your skin bursts into flames, embers showering your body as he pulls that final high from you. You shutter above him, dead weight against his body as he uses you to finish himself off. He evacuates your warmth and pumps out his load between your sticky, worn out figures with a drawn out groan.

Joel makes the first move to stand up, cock softening and hanging between his legs. He starts to step towards his en suite bathroom to find a towel, but you reach for him.

“I’m just gettin’ somethin’ to clean you up, honey,” he smiles before seeing a sadness in your eyes, longing for him to come back. Tears prickle your eyes and Joel quickly makes his way back to the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay, baby, cálmate,” he hushes carefully, holding you close to him. “We’ll getcha cleaned up in a little bit, I’ll make you whatever you fancy for supper and relax with you, sound good?”

A nod suffices his question, knowing you trust him enough to stay rather than run off eases him as he grounds you back to reality with his warm embrace.

to stay up to date on when I post fics, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications! i hope you enjoyed xx

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: take it from me

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cryinginmyroomsposts · 1 month

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Svt as specific tropes cuz I am in a writer's block

a/n: these are purely personal opinions/ imagines. not proofread!

Scoups: enemies to lovers (I'm talking dagger to the throat enemies to "who hurt you" pipeline. scoups and his competitive petty ass would be perfect with an equally competitive and hot-headed oc. I'm talking sizzling chemistry, extreme frustration to tooth-rotting fluff)

Jeonghan: Frenemies to angst to friends to lovers (light-hearted frenemies until one day Jeonghan takes the joke a little too far which leads to angst and years of no-contact. A chance encounter during lowest times leading to a soft adult friendship evolving to a soft and chaotic lovers pipeline)

Joshua: strangers to comfort person to lover (he gives me a feel-good coming of age feels so I'll take a storyline with the heartbroken or worn down oc finding comfort in Shua who could be a stranger or a kind colleague. a full "we helped heal each other" and then moving away due to circumstances only to realise that you need your comfort person)

Jun: holiday romance (nana tour Jun vibes. two strangers in a random city who decide to spend a week having the utmost fun and never meet again... but of course fate brings them together and the angst of reality to eventually finding a balance in the paradise of their holiday whirlwind and reality... it's giving romcom)

Woozi: Best Friends pining for decades (A very soulmate-ish friendship. Woozi and oc are so extremely obvious about their feelings but are oblivious to the reciprocation- it's also obvious to everyone around them. The angst of "what-ifs", and ofcourse songs written abt the feelings, to angry confessions and happy endings. this one includes a lotttt of angst and dozens of bangers mixed with peak domestic behaviour and two ppl so attuned to each other like old married couples)

Hoshi: Accidental dance partners Hoshi and oc (might sound basic but I'm a dancer and it's a very indulgent trope... so yeah! I'm thinking college team dancers in competing teams are forced to pair up for a competition. Out-of-the-world chemistry- can't keep eyes and hands off each other, late night talks, "non-date" date nights and ofc anger issues(performers, duh!). Lots of parties, angst and eventually confessing. She falls first but he falls harder)

Wonwoo: second-chance romance (I think Wonwoo, I think angst(sorry wonu) and second chance. oc and wonu having whirlwind honeymoon phase until oc pushes him away. lots and lots of angst- confused wonu not knowing how to help oc. both of them miserable without the other... until Wonwoo can't take it anymore and makes oc lean on him for support. very gray and grounded in reality romance)

Dokyeom: Small-town romance (sunshine Lee Seokmin as a charming small-town business owner helping big-city-return troubled oc deal with life and falling in love? sign me up for the hallmark movie! Seokmin and his golden best boy smile healing hearts as always)

Mingyu: Arranged Marriage Trope (once again, a very self-indulgent imagination...Oc who doesn't believe in love after a heartbreak, Mingyu who accepted his destiny and never loved anyone. A very practical arranged marriage with both consenting parties. An agreement to stay "partners" and "friends" because they "Can't force feelings". Domestic life leads them to break every rule- written and unwritten... angst rising due to pasts and insecurity... oc's fear of abandonment, Mingyu's fear of attachment... a minor separation and major realisation... their very own happy ending at last! Mingyu Best Husband Agenda forever)

Minghao: Rival Artists with secret identities dating each other (Minghao dates the pretty stranger on a dating app, agree to keep things casual but lo behold they are falling fast and hard... all is well except both have secret identities as artists who are rivals. they love each other but hate the other's alter-ego... ofc this leads to miscommunication and angst, lost ways and breakups. but this is my imagination so they end up together after everything and conquer the art world)

Seungkwan: Celebrity Fake dating trope (Seungkwan would eat that shit up! Two A-list celebs: Seungkwan and oc, who appear together in a show and fans go crazy for their chemistry but they don't pay head. oc gets caught in a false accusation, needs a distraction- agencies make oc and Seungkwan fake date... on-camera they r perfect but off-cam it's all awkward... planned appearances to becoming friends, trauma bonding... sexual tension rises, life gets complicated, lots of angst later they end up dating happily)

Vernon: Falling without meeting each other (two online friends, fake names but authentic friendship across continents fall for each other without ever meeting other. against all odds they end up seeing each other eventually and staying together... this gives me old cinema vibes but in modern times, Vernon is so Vernon that only he'd be fitting)

Dino: High school fake dating (imagine Dino as Peter Kavinsky from To All The Boys I've Loved Before... a popular softie boy agreeing to fake date the silent girl, the only twist is Dino has been in love with her since middle school, he fell first and harder- a full simp! Very romcom coded angst and happy endings ofc- i just know Dino will make a perfect romcom male lead)

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desperate-gay · 8 months

Text

Q&A

Mary Earps x fem!reader

Recently, all of the lionesses have had to deal with a lot of media attention and interviews after winning the euros. Today it is your turn; luckily, it is just a quick Q&A interview along with signing a few jerseys. These kinds of interviews never bother you too much because they usually ask pretty mild and entertaining questions, and most of the time if there is a question that may be risky, they’ll ask you if it’s okay to answer before rolling the cameras.

Your alarm blared throughout the bedroom, causing you to groan and stretch out as little as you can. Your wife’s arms are wrapped around your waist and your back is to her front. You feel Mary’s arms tighten to keep you in your spot.

“Baby,” you turn your head and place a kiss on her flushed cheek, “I have to start getting ready.” She just groans as a response and continues to keep her limbs wrapped around you.

“Honey-“

Her mouth hangs open and she lets out a booming snore to cover your protests.

“Mary!”

That gets her attention right away as her eyes shoot open and she sits up a little. Her lip juts out in a pout, “Don’t call me that.” Whenever you fight, you’re generally the calm one and never raise your voice along with only calling her by pet names like “Baby” or “Honey”. So now that you used her first name, she is wide awake and probably a little scared.

“There! That’s one way to get your attention.” You smile in triumph and lean over to place a small peck on her frowning lips. Her mouth drops open a little with her eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.

“That’s not fair! You can’t do that to me!” She shouts, seeing as you already made your way to the bathroom.

“I love you!”

She grumbles back a quiet “I love you”.

—

After a quick see you later and a couple of kisses, you make your way to your vehicle and head to your destination. Luckily, the directions your manager sent to you are not too far from your loft.

As you walk in, you greet multiple directors and writers before making your way to the seat where all the cameras are pointed to. A makeup artist and hairdresser come over and make a few tweaks to your look just to be sure everything is perfect. There will be an interviewer behind the camera asking a series of questions, so all you’ve got to do is answer and be polite.

The camera rolls and the producer gives you the sign to introduce yourself. “Hi! My name is Y/n Earps, I play for the England Lionesses, and today I will be doing a quick Q&A. Most of these questions are asked by you, the fans, and viewers. If your question didn’t make it, you can always drop more on Twitter or Instagram and I will do my best to answer them. Now let’s get started!”

The producer gave you a thumbs up and started to roll again. Your hands lay on the table intertwined while you look at the interviewer standing behind the camera.

“Out of everyone in your squad, who do you think is the funniest?”

“Oooh, that’s a tricky one. There are a lot of jokesters on the team, but I think it would be Tooney. She’s always so random and it makes it even funnier. I’d say Daly is right there too”

You hear the man flip through the cards to get to the next one. “Okay next, growing up, which club did you support?”

“Oh no. I hope not too many people come after me, but I grew up an Arsenal fan and I even play for them now. All my teammates who play for Chelsea, United, or Barca all argue over who’s second to me. Leah just looks smug and lets out snarky comments, teasing the rest.”

You go over plenty of more questions; some about your personal life and some about your football opinions. A couple of the questions you’d have a conversation with the interviewer and the crew behind the camera. Now you’re down to your last one, which is a little relieving. To be honest, you didn’t want to get out of bed at all today, but this wasn’t the worst thing to do.

“Last question for today isssss…out of all women’s football, who is your favorite goalkeeper.”

You let out a small chuckle and stare at the camera. “This feels like a setup. Well if I don’t say Mary Earps I think she’d be quite angry with me and would sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Wouldn’t you sleep on the couch?” The man’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

“Yeah, you would think, right? But one time Mary told me and I quote, ‘Just because I don’t like you at the moment, doesn’t mean I don’t care about you’. She claims she doesn't want my back to hurt the next morning.” You smile softly at the words of your wife. A few awes can be heard from the crew which makes your smile widen even more.

“It’s really difficult being married to a cocky sweetheart sometimes.” Sighing, you shake your head and look at the camera. “Back to the question, I guess Mearps isn’t all that bad,” you jokingly look around and cup your mouth, acting like you're whispering, “I do fancy Zecira Musovic though.” You place a finger on your lips and wink before the cameras stop rolling. The workers clap and thank you for doing this and you smile back and reply with my pleasure.

Once everything is edited to your and the producer's taste, they post it on YouTube straight away. You bid your goodbyes one final time and go run a few errands to get some snacks for movie night.

—

“Baby! Can you help me with a few of these groceries?” You shout through the empty-looking house. Footsteps begin to make their way slowly to the front door, near you.

“Well well well, look who needs goalkeeper Mary Earps’s help. Why don’t you call and ask your favorite Zecira Musovic?” She taunts with her arms crossed over her chest. Her steps are even slower than before, taking her time to get to you.

“You saw the interview, huh?” You wince and give your best innocent smile while you bat your eyelashes. Mary nods and runs her tongue around the inside of her cheek, which most people are familiar with during games.

“Why should I help you?”

“Because you; darling, love of my life, angel, are my dear sweet wife, and you wouldn’t want your wife’s arms to snap before the World Cup now would you?” You say with the same smile, but now your nose is scrunched. “Please?”

Huffing, she makes her way to you grabs all the bags, and goes to the kitchen to set them on the counter. You follow her and give her the biggest hug you can. Her hands place themselves under your thighs, signaling for you to jump. Your legs wind around her waist as your arms wrap around her neck. Mary carries you back into the living room and bends down, placing only you on the couch. You reach up with grabby hands and try to bring her down. She lowers her mouth just above your ear and whispers, “Your back can hurt tomorrow, so you can sleep on the couch tonight.”

She places a kiss on your lips and walks away leaving you in shock, seeing she just mimicked your moves from this morning. Your wife smirks to herself and heads back upstairs to your shared bedroom. As quickly as you can, you sit up and run towards her.

“It was a joke, baby! I’m sorry!”

#mary earps x reader #mary earps #woso x reader #woso #england #world cup #euros #lgbtq

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kamehamehamlet · 2 months

Text

The Tumblr reblog sensation is returning. But like the Sayians or Shakespeare’s folios, it has the potential to develop in many forms.

Visit kamehamehamlet.com to be notified when we have more details.

Follow this blog for a peak behind the curtain.

And read on to learn more about the show, how we got here, and where we’re going.

Thank you for waiting just a little bit longer.

Revival Project Q&A

Who are you?

Hi! I’m Daniel Cole Mauleón (@writepictures), the writer of Kamehamehamlet. In 2015 I co-founded the theatre company Play-Dot Productions with KHH’s director Shalee Mae Cole Mauleón.

What is Kamehamehamlet?

Kamehamehamlet: Good Night Saiyan Prince, was an hour-long one act play, performed during the 2015 Minnesota Fringe Festival. It’s a staged retelling of Vegeta and Freeza’s battle on the planet Namek. Marketed as a Dragon Ball Z and Hamlet mash-up, the parody quickly shuffled off its weighted gi, revealing it was actually a Waiting for Godot spoof. After five performances, Vegeta hung up his helmet of spiky hair. Seven years later, K (@amokslime) wrote this incredibly gracious post on Tumblr, which inspired two people to reach out to me via Reddit to ask if I had a script or a recording of the performance.

I want to pause the semi-marketing voice and say a heartfelt thanks to K. Kamehamehamlet was brought to life by an incredible team of artists during a summer I’ll never forget. We got laughs at jokes, gasps at fight choreography, and we broke even on the budget (a Fringe miracle TBH). K’s post gave me the chance to revisit that show through someone else’s eyes. The mix of pride and humility it stirs up is truly indescribable.

If there is art which has changed you, and especially if the artist is still alive I encourage you to non-intrusively share that with the artist.

Is there a copy of the script?

Yes, I’ll speak more about that at below.

Is there a recording of the performance?

There was, but I genuinely lost the files. And that’s for the best, honestly. It was a last-second attempt, filmed from two cheap cameras (with different qualities and resolutions!), both at bad angles and with truly awful audio. Trust me. It’s better this way.

That said, I do have other archival footage from rehearsal's, tech, etc. that I look forward to sharing for those curious.

What’s next?

This is the question I’ve been asking myself over the past year and the reason it took so long to post anything. Especially since one thing I want to do differently this time is make sure that any artists involved are meaningfully compensated for their time and skill. However, I can’t plan without a better estimate of what kind of support we would have, and I didn’t want to share our intentions without concrete details.

Right now, the best way you can support this project is by signing up for the announcement on kamehamehamlet.com.

The second best thing you can do is to share with others about this project, if I’ve learned anything reading through the comments on K’s post, it is that there’s a much bigger audience for KHH than I could have ever imagined, and you likely know at least one more person who would be interested.

And while I don’t want to promise anything I can’t deliver on, I will share that I’m planning on making the script available this year and I’ll be writing a separate post about that in near future.

If you’ve read this far thank you so much.

Photography by Ann B. Erickson. Vegeta is played by McKenzie Shappell. Freeza is played by Cayla Marie Wolpers. Costumes by Sarah Noel Simon.

#kamehamehamlet #theater #dbz #dragon ball #shakespeare #hamlet #waiting for godot #vegeta #freeza #goku #this is about as good a place as any to share that...#I only just realized after spending a day in Adobe Illustrator that I've just made the IKEA logo...

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hobie-enthusiast · 10 months

Note

Hobie with a friend or s/o that feels safe drawing and practicing instruments (just overall being creative) around him 🥺?

Thank u op for feeding us so we’ll with all the hobie content btw !!!! MWAH ❤️❤️

THE CREATIVE MIND !

— hobie brown x creative!gn!reader

— fluff, creative reader, pet-names, hobie being a menace, hcs and then a blurb for artist reader at the end

— hobie and his encouragement with his s/o, who loves expressing their creativity with him

— SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK but here it is anon muwah

— Hobie first noticed how much you kept to yourself

— Of course you talked with people around you, but you weren’t very open about what you liked to do

— He loved playing his guitar, Gwen loved playing the drums, Miles loved drawing and sketching, but what did you enjoy?

— Turns out it was a combination of all those things

— When Hobie starts to get closer to you, he notices the little things that you don’t hide around him anymore

— Splatters of paint, marker markings, blistered fingers, all signs of the creativity you hold behind closed doors

— Just as friends, Hobie may ask about what you do, but will never push if you don’t want to say

— He’ll lead into some conversations about it if you do

— Loves listening to you talk and talk about what you do once you get comfortable around him

— Then his friends try to beg to know what you do, what’s the secret hobby you hold so dear?

— And to that he keeps quiet

— Because he loves the fact that you trust him so much to let him know about how well you can do what you do

— If the two of you are dating, god he’s your biggest supporter

— He loves motivating people to go against their limits and rules to achieve their greatness, and he does the same with you

— Every-time you show him a new project, he praises it like the Mona Lisa

— “‘s amazin’, swee’heart. got myself such a talen’ed par’ner.”

— “Belongs on display, ‘s for sure.”

— if you’re an artist, he commissions you all the time

— Stickers for his guitar, art on his walls, even doodles on his hands

— He wants to proudly sport your work wherever he can

— If you play an instrument, he’ll constantly ask to practice and play with you

— Even if you play something like the trumpet, he’ll find a way to jam out with you

— It means a lot to him to share music with who he loves

— If you are a writer, he’ll always ask to see what you’re typing up

— Hobie’s everyone’s biggest supporter, and that’s never an exception for you

— He adores everything you create, no exceptions

Your legs dangled off the edge of the couch as you take your pencil to your sketchbook. On the opposite chair, Hobie was strumming guitar, scribbling and marking his music. It was like a peaceful creative time you shared.

You take a peak up at your boyfriend before looking back down, sketching the features of his nose onto your paper. For the past hour you had been sketching him, multiple poses of him lying there, with his guitar, and him just smiling (which was a closed smirk but better than nothing). You were finishing a sketch of him messing with his guitar, drawing up his hair and piercings.

“Mm..” Hobie sighs before making that focused face he does, bringing out the crease on his forehead.

You smile and draw that out onto the sketch, enjoying how blissfully unaware Hobie seemed. You had numerous sketches of him, but he didn’t need to know.

As you stare down and take glances up, Hobie finishes with the current song he was messing with. He looks over at you, noticing how focused you seemed on your sketch. It was mesmerizing watching you work so passionately.

Quietly, he got up, sneaking over to your seat on the couch. He wraps his arms around you, peaking over your shoulder. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

You slam the book shut. “Nothing!”

“Oh? But I wanna see..” Hobie responds, reaching to grab your sketchbook.

“No no! It’s nothing!”

You shoot up to run to your shared bedroom, holding the book away from Hobie. He chases after you and shoots a web to grab the book. As much as you try to pull it back, he ultimately wins, taking the sketchbook in his hands.

“Le’s see..” He speaks, turning to the page you were working on. “Oh.”

You groan, throwing your head into a pillow. “Hobie..”

He’s quiet for a while, admiring your work. You make him look so.. incredible. All the pencil strokes bring out a different feature of him, and he’s never thought he looked this great.

"These are incred'ble, swee'heart." He says after a while, glancing up at you. “C’mon, don’ be shy. ‘s good stuff.” He assures you as he takes a seat next to you.

You snatch the book from Hobie, swatting him with it. “Ever heard of privacy?!”

“Mm.. ‘s good t’ know ‘s how ya see me.”

“Well.. it’s not even done.” You say with a sigh. Then, you get an idea. “Wait! I’ve got an idea.”

Hobie’s eyes raise. “Hmm?”

You turn back to open the page you were working on, grabbing a pencil and a red marker from the nightstand next to your bed. You look up at Hobie before looking back down, sketching something.

“Just stay still..” You request, sketching out some new features you can now notice from up close. “I wanna finish..”

Hobie chuckles, crossing a knee over his leg. “Mm.. ‘right, ‘ll be ‘ur muse.”

In turn, you give a smile, gently kissing his cheek before continuing to work on his profile. You sketch every little crease, freckle, blister he has on his face. Any scar or bruise he has from his hero ventures, you include. You start to get lost in your book as time moves on.

Your boyfriend just sits there, admiring the way you look so focused. He’s grateful you feel comfortable around him, to where you can allow yourself to indulge in your creativity. He loves how people express themselves, you especially.

When you start adding some colour, you see Hobie scoot next to you. “So talen’ed, ya know that?”

You smile gently, leaning into his shoulder. “I appreciate that, Hobie.” You respond as you continue putting in some highlights.

Once it’s done, Hobie sits back and praises your work like there’s no tomorrow. Many compliments, pet-names, and red blushing messes later, he’s pulling your leg to convince you to let him take them, hang them up.

Once you do agree, he also asks you to make him some stickers for his guitar. “Need some good stuff f’ my gui’ar. Make it flashy t’ fight facis’s.”

Once you do make them, trust, he’s going to brag to everyone he knows and is friends with who made the beautiful artwork displayed on his guitar.

#NEW ARTICLE || OUT NOW !!#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv #atsv hobie

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reallygoodplants · 2 months

Text

Low-Effort Tasks to help save OFMD

Writing emails, crafting posts, pestering friends and collegagues to sign the petition... These can be hard some days (or all of the days).

If you're low on spoons but still want to help, here are some things you can do.

Most only take a few seconds and can be done on half a working braincell.

You can do them any day, no matter what else is going on with the campaign.

Do as few or as many of these as you like. Every bit helps.

🖱 Click some links

This boosts stats and metrics that streaming platforms look at.

Google

Wikipedia

IMDB

Rotten Tomatoes

TV Stats

✏ Vote for OFMD and Vico in the Queerties

No login required. You can vote once a day on multiple devices.

Our Flag Means Death for TV Comedy

Vico Ortiz for TV Performance

💜 Like/Reblog others' posts on Twitter, Insta, Youtube etc.

These are just examples for our hashtags on some platforms - go wherever you feel comfortable.

Twitter: #SaveOFMD - #AdoptOurCrew

Instagram: #saveofmd - #ourflagmeansdeath - #adoptourcrew

Facebook: #saveofmd - #adoptourcrew - #ourflagmeansdeath

🔔 Follow SaveOFMDCrew and AdoptOurCrew on Social Media. Like/Reblog their posts.

This gives their accounts more weight and the campaign more impact/visibility.

SaveOFMDCrew: YouTube - TikTok - Instagram - Mastodon - Facebook - Tumblr - Twitter

AdoptOurCrew: Twitter - Instagram

📺 Watch Our Flag Means Death

This boosts streaming and audience interest numbers.

if you don't have a Max-subscription, both seasons are now available on iPlayer. Other streaming platforms like Prime also work.

rumour has it that torrenting numbers are also counted by analytics sites...

📺 Watch Related Shows on Netflix, Prime & Apple TV

This helps to show those streaming platforms that there is interest in those themes/actors.

go to a platform you're subscribed to and search for "Our Flag Means Death", then watch one of the suggested shows. Give it a like.

Also look for shows/movies that feature any of the OFMD actors

📜 Enjoy OFMD Fic and Art - Kudos, Like, Reblog

Art and stories are important, and artists/writers need support. That's why we're doing all this in the first place.

Read a fic. Give kudos (or leave a 🧡 or "second kudos" in the comments).

Reblog your favourite fanart (again).

🍵 Take Care of Yourself

We're in it for the long haul and you should never feel bad about doing "too little".

Eat, hydrate, sleep, take your meds.

Take breaks from the campaign. We'll be there when you come back 💜

---

ETA: One more thing I forgot to add

🙏 Request OFMD on Netflix

No text needed, just type in the title of the show.

#save our flag means death #ofmd #our flag means death fandom #renew our flag means death

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tolkienrsb · 1 month

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TRSB 2023 Gallery Opening

& 2024 Schedule Premiere

It’s almost time for TRSB 2024! Sign ups for artists for TRSB 2024 open in a month. The full schedule for 2024 can be found here.

To start getting excited for this year’s event, please enjoy the opening of the TRSB 2023 Gallery (and the completion of the TRSB 2022 Gallery!) Many thanks to @usuallysublimepenguin for doing the lion’s share of the work to get both galleries ready and online and to @fishing4stars for supporting that effort!

Before the suggestions form opens on March 24th, we want to invite veteran participants to share their wisdom about the event. If you were speaking to someone curious about participating in TRSB for the first time, what would your advice be on picking what to draw? Or, as an author, what do you look for in a prompt?

The mods have given their own answers under the cut. We can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

~TRSB Mods 2024

Mods answer the question:

Fishing4Stars (roles: artist, writer): As a writer I look for prompts that either give me a clear inspiration that I think matches the artist’s idea - or that leave me enough flexibility to write something I find inspiring. Either works! I do get inspired by my favorite characters, but the underlying idea can be a great source as well. I had a blast writing a story focused on Thorin last year even though he’s not a character I normally write for because the underlying prompt, about being an outcast and having a complex identity, inspired me. I loved working closely with the artist on this - I will probably make my ‘involvement level’ preference this year more specific, because I’d love to do that again.

I think my biggest takeaways as an artist after participating last year were:

(1) Be a little selfish when picking prompts: As an artist, I’m responsible for supporting my writers and their works - whether cheerleading, brainstorming, beta reading, or hands off, my writer deserves for me to be excited to read their work in September and give them comments. So it’s to both our benefit for me to pick something I like and want to read. Last year I picked a prompt off the suggestions list that I normally wouldn’t have. It actually turned out really well and I had tons of fun reading it, but it did make me think about maybe giving slightly more personalized prompts this year.

(2) Leaving room for collaboration can be fun: Both of the works I submitted last year were in mostly finished form. The bit of collaboration I got to do to adjust the work to the writer’s story was really fun, though. So this year I’m thinking about leaving some room for the writer to weigh in on the art.

Usuallysublimepenguin (role: artist): I’ve participated as an artist for a few years now and can warmly recommend joining, as it’s been such a joy every time.

Regarding the prompt list, I can certainly echo Fishing4Stars: draw something that you like! The list is great for sparking ideas, but be careful of picking the very specific ones; they might be something the prompter would want to read but not necessarily write. So, if it’s not something you want to draw, do not pick it. Use the list for inspiration, or if the list is too dauntingly large, go for something completely different from your own head.

My prompts have gone from quite detailed "Lothiriel, a new bride getting to know Éomer" to very open "here's one or two characters in a pose I wanted to draw; please fill in the blanks" or "Here's a landscape; please fill in the details." Keep in mind that the open prompts require quite high levels of collaboration, and that the stories might take you to new places you never even thought existed - but for me that works very well. Every single story that came from these prompts are dear to me.

Ettelenë (roles: writer, sometimes artist). Since I am mainly a writer who sometimes draws, I tend to pick prompts that suit the characters or stories I want to tell. The first time I participated as a writer, it was with a prompt/character I never thought I would write about (mermaid Voronwë!), and, surprisingly, it was not the most challenging time. So, to start, writing or drawing something completely out of our comfort zones can actually draw people in. Nowadays, though, as I don't have much time to write a fully complex story with worldbuilding etc, I’ll go for the prompts that I am 100% sure I can bang 5k in the blink of an eye. As for drawings, I usually stick with what I do best, which is watercolor. And curiously enough, the two times I did art for TRSB, it was about the Valar, characters I mostly never write about, but who always spark my artistic creativity.

Raiyana (roles: writer): I have a tendency to fall in love with a piece or an idea and fall HARD… so far, happily, the artists have been pleased to have me write for them ;) And then I find that weird secondary prompt in the gallery, generally during second claims, that tickles Something. I usually filter out characters/ideas I definitely can’t do and then something or someone (often a co mod, actually) will challenge me to come up with a way to do a prompt and spark another fire of creativity ;).

I never thought I’d be able to write a streamer script version of FoG, but here we are…

Lathalea (roles: writer, artist): When I joined TRSB for the first time, as a writer, I definitely felt overwhelmed with the size of the event and the amount of prompts, and then art pieces. It wasn’t easy to pick just one, so many of them screamed “pick me!”. I managed to narrow them down and mull over them for some time. I asked myself what ideas and parts of the Tolkien legendarium spoke to me the most, what “blank areas” of Middle Earth I would like to fill with my works, and how I wanted to do this. What I learned back then is that it worked for me best to focus on a very particular and narrow theme so that I could delve into proper worldbuilding – which is something I live for when it comes to Dwarves and their culture.

Finally, I chose the one that sparked the most creativity in me that year. I feel that for writers who decide to work on a specific art piece, prompts can be a great help, making you enrich your story or add a detail or two that you wouldn’t have thought of otherwise. As a bonus, you get at least one very happy reader: the author of that specific prompt!

One year later, I decided to submit art for TRSB because I liked the prompts so much – I just had to create a piece of visual art inspired by them. It resulted in a great cooperation that explored a completely new subject that I always wanted to focus on but never had a chance to do properly before.

Feel free to surprise yourself and pick prompts or ideas you haven’t worked on before, you never know what way your creativity will go!

Legolasbadass (roles: writer, artist): There are always too many great artworks, so I usually make a list of pieces I’d be most interested in writing for to help narrow down my choices. I look for ideas and characters I am most inspired by and comfortable writing about — though it can also be fun to step out of your comfort zone and try something new! Another really important thing for me is the collaboration level. I really enjoy brainstorming with the artist, sharing my progress with them, and getting regular feedback, so I tend to avoid choosing artists who prefer a less collaborative experience.

When looking for inspiration for art, I usually look at the answers to the suggestions form as well as my personal list of prompts and pick an idea that I’d be most excited to share with someone. The collaborative aspect of the event is what excites and inspires me the most, so I tend not to submit an idea I feel too possessive of. I like working closely with an author and letting their vision inspire my art as much as my art will inspire their story.

#tolkien fandom event #trsb24 #tolkien reverse summer bang #tolkien fanart

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drchucktingle · 1 year

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more on never ending art vs artist talks

just a heads up for the buds asking. even if you try to ignore something an artist has done you are still not SEPARATING THE ART FROM THE ARTIST. if you say 'i do not like scoundrel jk but i love BOY WIZARD'S DAY OUT so i am going to separate art from artist by ignoring scoundrel jks vile way and reading' then you STILL have not actually removed her from the art. the art is now just a multimedia piece of a book being read by someone who is ignoring the writer.

it is just a new mutation of the art directly created by your interaction with the artist

in other words IGNORING the artist is not separating them because you cannot easily just unknow something (even if you do end up unknowing something through memory loss, that would still be a new artistic experience but thats a whole other tangent buckaroo). IGNORING is an active change to an artistic piece. for that matter so is NEVER KNOWING IN THE FIRST PLACE because this timeline is not a vacuum and art is not static, its meaning changes and evolves through time and space and experience

in other words, ART AND ARTIST are forever connected sometimes for better sometimes for worse but most of the time it is just in a way that has no good or bad attached. it just is. i think where buds get into trouble is when they PRETEND separating art from artist is even possible.

chucks way is to acknowledge these things will never be separate and then trot on from there however you see fit. decide if someones story makes you LOVE AND SUPPORT THEIR ART EVEN MORE, or if their scoundrel way makes a sweet slice of cake suddenly sour. maybe its sour but not enough to throw the cake away just eat a little less, maybe you like the taste once a week instead of every day, or maybe its GROSS and inedible to you now. that is YOUR OWN CHOICE, but for chuck all this pretending it is not a personal choice and you can just separate art and artist is avoiding responsibility

#art theory #love is real #tingleverse

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caesarflickermans · 13 days

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thg fans, we need to talk about the "rose map".

with TBOSAS, a new Panem map emerged diverging from previous map iterations. Fans have attempted to explain the stylistic difference as either a Capitol map or an in-universe artistic interpretation resembling a rose.

however, this map resembles a popular fan-made map. let's finally address this.

[image id: two pictures of a map. the first map has been made by a fan with its social media links included. the second map is titled "history of panem". the first map has several districts marked in a circular form moving inward toward the capitol. the second map is a similar design with the same shapes moving toward an inner centre. it's red colour makes it look like a rose]

Note the resemblance of the District placements and their shapes. District 4 and its island are especially noteworthy.

the original artist has spoken out today on a reddit post. this is their statement:

Hi, I'm aimmyarrowshigh who created this map, and I just wanted to thank you for pointing out here and when it was originally revealed that Lionsgate stole it from me. They never contacted me to ask about using my Panem map (even though it is copyrighted as part of The Panem Companion) and did not give me any credit for its use. If they wanted to use it as the TBOSAS map, I would have gladly worked with them to update it to their design specs in exchange for whatever they paid their graphic designers and an acknowledgement in the end credits! I would have been thrilled! But instead, they stole it without any regard, and they're ignoring the Cease & Desist sent by my lawyers. (I am being aided by the legal team at the OTW.) I am so disappointed by their decisions regarding this issue, from the initial choice to use it without just... asking... or even informing me... to their refusal to admit that they did such a thing. The fact that the graphic design company quietly removed it from IG after Lionsgate got the C&D, yet they still aren't going to give any credit or compensation for its use, is kind of depressing. I think I can probably speak for any fan artist or meta writer in saying that having one of my crazy ideas made canon is super cool, and if they had asked me whether they could use my map design, I would have said yes AND probably been a lot cheaper than whoever they paid to steal it, just because I would have been so chuffed to see it in the movie. I'm kind of heartbroken that they didn't respect it, or me, enough to just... shoot me an email. You know? I know some people will probably reply and say "it's just a fanwork" or "you made it 13 years ago, get over it" or something like that, but fanworks are made out of pure love for the thing (in this case, THG) and Lionsgate took advantage of my love for THG to earn a little more money directly (on merch) and indirectly (in the movie itself). That's gross, imo. Just because it's a fanwork doesn't mean it isn't the intellectual property of the person who created it -- and especially in the case of something like this map, which exists specifically because it DIDN'T exist in canon at the time I created it. Anyway, tl;dr: yes, they stole it, and thank you for pointing that out so consistently.

what to do as fans?

boycott the "rose" map. do not buy the map / do not promote it / raise awareness / share this post.

uplift fan work. support fans / share & credit fan work.

supporty aimmyarrowshigh. buy or talk about the panem companion / share the original map.

#thg #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #snowbaird #annie cresta #finnick odair #odesta #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #hayffie

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elysiansparadise · 6 months

Note

Sorry, I haven’t seen your Composite Mars Post in Composite master list but then found it! You can ignore my previous ask hahah

Can you tell me about Venus in 9th house in natal chart, please? I’m interested in your opinion about this aspect :3

Sure love, no problem. 😊🤎

Venus in the 9th house

Their beauty is radiant, it lies in the glow of their personality, in the shine of their eyes, their beautiful figure and the hypnotizing smile with which they captivate you. These natives are an ideal combo, since it is not only limited to external beauty, but also their spirit, their way of seeing life, their love for knowledge, their open, inquisitive and fun mentality and their ability to give greater meaning to things no matter how simple they are. They love learning new things, things that are interesting and things that make them leave their comfort zone mentally speaking. They may have a lot of artistic knowledge and can enjoy art in diverse ways. There is a jovial quality in them which expands with the passage of time, looking young no matter the passing of the years. They have the quality of being able to see beauty in things that others do not appreciate, they tend to think outside the box and are not so methodical in their thinking, having a more flexible, open and curious mind. Likewise, they are usually people who deal charmingly with people, their treatment is not frivolous or just cordial, they are warm and very fun with others, which makes them easily appreciated. All these traits make them irresistible and interesting to people. Hips and thighs can be very attractive.

With this placement of Venus, the native is more prone to trips abroad, from which they will deeply enjoy and learn a lot, this can increase once they get married. You may feel attracted to foreign countries and the idea of getting to know other places, cultures and people, and you may also feel attracted to foreign people [must mention that this placement enhances chances of marrying someone from another country]. In addition to the foreign, they are attracted to intelligent and thoughtful personalities who see beyond what seems to be obvious. Great minds inspire them and can teach them many things, things that they value deeply. They are attracted to people with more experience than them [in some cases even people older than them, especially if Saturn is aspecting Venus], to the idea of a loved one teaching them new things. Changing the subject a little, since this is a publishing house, it makes it easier for the native to be successful in publishing something, especially with a foreign public or a lot of support from people from abroad. Can make very successful writers or artists in general.

Love is a huge source of inspiration for them, they have a unique vision of it, nothing superficial, quite the opposite, they look for a deep and significant meaning in the idea of being with the person they love most. They have that quality to put a relieved, genuine and radiant smile on the face of their loved one, the one they fill with happiness, adventures and the best conversations they can have. It is valuable for them to be able to share their most personal opinions and vision of life with the person they are interested in. They love deeply and with intensity but never reaching the point of being unhealthy, love with them is liberating, enjoyable and above all accepting. They have a strong love of freedom, so it is necessary that they have a certain degree of it in their relationships. It is important for you to feel that you and your partner grow together as the relationship progresses. Many of them can give the impression of having high standards in love, since most tend to reject simple ideas of love or things that do not fit what they are looking for, they will always prefer what is meaningful even if they have to wait a little longer. The natives with this placement are the underrated hopeless romantics, since it’s the house of ideals and Venus over there increases the tendency to daydream about romance.

#astrology #venus in the 9th #natal chart #venus in the 9th house #venus in the 9h #astro note #astro observation #birth chart #venus in 9th house #venus in 9th

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swiftispunk · 4 months

Note

I need to get something off my chest, I hope it’s alright if I do it here. And I thought maybe you would be able to help.

I haven’t been around the Pedro fandom for long. The show had already begun when I became interested and my blog here is even more recent so to say that I missed the action would be an understatement.

But I really try to talk to people, i interact with writers, artists around here because how else am i supposed to find friends if I don’t actually reach out to others?

The problem is, it feels like everyone already has their friends, their own circle here and I don’t feel like there is much space for anyone else.

I know a lot of it has to do with my own issues (i have terrible anxiety, my social skills are probably not the best and this time of year isn’t the easiest) but I can see the difference between people interacting together and when I interact with the same people. I feel like I’m forcing something or acting as if we were friends when we’re not.

I really want my experience in the fandom to go well, everyone seems lovely. But it sorta feels like being at a party, looking at others having fun and standing in the corner alone.

So I don’t really know. Because I don’t know what else I could do? And I try not to focus on it too much but I guess it’s hitting me harder today 😕

hi sweet non, you sent this a little while ago and i apologize for not responding sooner. for no particular reason at all, i thought it might finally be a good time to for me to answer this.

first off, i think it's amazing you take the time to reach out to fic writers and artists. just speaking for myself, there aren't enough words to express how much that means and i can promise you that every writer or artist you've reached out to holds you close to their hearts whether you know it or not.

second of all, i don't think you're alone in this experience you're describing. this fandom has grown exponentially even since i joined back in february, and the more it's grown, the more factions have arisen.

i don't think this is a bad thing, per se. with the scope and spectrum of pedro's characters and the mini fandoms that exist within those spaces, it's inevitable that smaller circles will come up where folks can interact with like-minded fans who are really into triple frontier or really into dbf!joel or really into calling dave york daddy.

when i stepped into this space, there were established writers and established friendships, and navigating that at first was honestly a bit confusing. following every suggested blog i could follow just to situate myself, eventually learning who i vibed with and who i didn't.

it actually took several months for me to settle into my current close friend group, but i like to think i've made lots of friends along the way, some i still talk to every day, and some i only talk to once a month. all of whom i adore and respect and support.

too often i think friend groups (which are normal to have) get mistaken for cliques (which implies exclusion and superiority). at least for me, although i do have some pre-established friendships and a small group of close moots, i would never actively turn away new friends or new connections. and i would hope that any other users with established friend groups would agree with me on that.

if you want my practical advice, nonnie, the space sisters discord is an amazing server which represents so many communities in this fandom. it's open to anyone over the age of 18 and a wonderful way to meet people. i'd definitely consider joining, if you're not already in there.

at the end of the day, there is space for everyone here, i really believe that. i want you to feel like you have a home and a community in this fandom, because you do. DM me any time, never stop reaching out to your favourite writers and artists, or simply DM a mutual about that picture of pedro they reblogged and freak out over it together. you are not forcing anything when you do those things because that is why we are all here. that is doing fandom. just by being here, you are part of it. and i'm sorry if you've been made to feel otherwise.

but, as i've already said, you are not alone. i am certain someone will see this post and feel seen. but please know you have not missed the action; new fans are still cropping up here daily. maybe they're also still looking for friends or feel like an outsider. maybe they'll comment below and that'll be how you'll find each other.

ultimately, i want you to know you are loved and you are welcome and i am so glad you're here.

#ask #anon #tw discourse #(kind of but not really)

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calmcoldevening · 3 months

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Vincent Sinclair with s/o who is a writer

• You were both creative people, so it's not surprising that you found a common language so quickly and fell in love with each other. His lost soul subconsciously reached out to your light, wanting warmth and support. You were his ray of light in this vile realm of darkness and cold.

• You really saw talent in him, even when you found out the true nature of these beautiful sculptures in the museum. Yes, it scared you and you didn't want to be a part of it, but you saw Vincent rushing around. You've seen the pressure his brother is under and the heartache with which he creates these bloody masterpieces. But no, you didn't condemn him in any way. You gave him peace of mind.

• Vincent immediately found solace in your presence. There was something about you that immediately endeared you to him. Whether it was your beauty or your kind soul, he couldn't answer even to himself. Perhaps you were just an angel sent to him by the Lord himself.

• As soon as Vincent finds out about your passion for creativity, it immediately interests him. Are you writing? How often? About what? He is interested in all the details of your amazing work. While he, being an artist, sees with his eyes, you see this world with your soul.

• Vincent is happy to read all your essays and stories, even if you think they are unsuccessful or stupid. He likes absolutely all your stories. The man is amazed at your ability to choose beautiful, interesting words to describe and the admiration with which you can describe even something very simple and ordinary, whether it's rain outside the window or some kind of plant.

• Over time, you get a little tradition. In the evening, when the Sinclair brothers are already asleep, you and Vincent are sitting in the living room by the fireplace. He holds you in his arms, leaning against the back of the sofa and clasping his hands on your stomach. You sit in his gentle hands, from time to time turning over the slightly yellowed pages of a leather book and reading aloud. These were stories of your own composition. And although your voice was gentle and soothing, Vincent did not give himself the opportunity to fall asleep, wanting to listen to your every gentle word. He squeezes you in his arms when you finish reading. Even if it was the tenth time he had heard this story, the man is ready to listen to it over and over again, because you wrote it. You look up at him tenderly, he's not wearing a mask. Your hand reaches up, tucking stray strands of dark hair behind his ear, and caresses his scar on his face. Your hands are so gentle and soft, Vincent involuntarily closes his eyes. He remembers perfectly well with what trepidation you described his appearance with your magic lines. There was no horror or condemnation in them. Your words were gentle and beautiful, as if Vincent was the most delicate and beautiful flower you've ever seen.

• Over time, he noticed what you often compared his personality to. Spider lily. He had never seen such a plant in his life, so it was very interesting for him to see it. What was he like in your eyes? The man's curiosity was satisfied when he saw the cherished flower in the magazine of one of the victims. "..he was beautiful. Bright scarlet drops of cranberry blood on the icy crystal of pure fluffy snow or gaping spider lilies bursting out from under the snow cover, as if an omen of something significant, inherently divine. His being was bright and innocent, it was completely unsuited to the place where he was born. And yet, he decorated the world around him with his beauty and God's gift.."

• You often created together. You were both creative people, so you really knew how difficult it can be to catch inspiration. And when you were together, the task seemed to solve itself. Vincent was sitting at his desk, facing the exit from the basement. You were sitting across from him in the big rocking chair that Lester brought for you from the city. Your legs were covered with a warm blanket, and your eyes were fixed on the paper, fingers nervously clutching the ill-fated pen. Vincent looked up from time to time, noting your concentration. He always liked watching you work. You were so serious and collected, but at the same time sweet and funny. The man liked to watch your eyebrows wrinkle when you were thinking especially hard. Or when an idea comes to your mind, you bite your tongue slightly, excitedly starting to quickly write something down in your notebook. Every detail about you was just beautiful to him. He was in a hurry to capture you in his drawings right away. You were like a sip of fresh water for him in the midst of a sultry desert.

• Sometimes you missed him when there was a lot of work and he didn't leave the basement all day. You brought him food straight down, but the man didn't react in any way. That's why you were doing something that he would definitely like. You beautifully described all the accumulated thoughts on paper, carefully folding a piece of paper into a beautiful envelope and putting it with dinner. Or it could be a whole sheet of words about how beautiful Vincent is in your eyes. And you took the food to his office along with a love note. Later, he sat alone in the basement, clutching your letter with trembling hands. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. You were so kind and wonderful to him, he wasn't worthy of you. Vincent kisses a piece of paper and pulls it to his chest. After that, he carefully puts it in his box. It was a beautifully decorated box filled to the brim with your poems and stories. Even if you threw out some "unsuccessful" work, Vincent took it away and carefully kept it, sometimes rereading it. Although he liked it more when you read.

#slashers x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair house of wax

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niki-phoria · 1 year

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⋆｡°✩ chishiya's different types of kisses

warnings: ooc chishiya, mentions of blood/injuries, 'i need you right now' is a little angsty 'are you sure about this?' gets kinda suggestive but no smut (they make out)

a/n: i want more aib requests pls i miss writing for them but i have no ideas

additional note: i made a post about this a while ago please reblog fics from creators and/or leave feedback on them. it means a lot to us. i've barely been getting interaction on my work at all lately and it's really hurting my motivation. it genuinely means a lot to hear that you enjoy the work writers/artists create

based on this post !! i didn't do all of them bc i don't write smut or angst lol

ARISU VERSION / KUINA VERSION

gn reader (no pronouns used)

requests open !! read my rules first

my fav chishiya gif returns

first kiss

(word count 270)

there’s an odd sense of tension in the air as you look at chishiya. his dark eyes are alluring - almost daring you to finally take the dive and fall deep into them. you can barely feel the warmth of his breath from how close you are. you scan the birthmarks and freckles on his face. you picture them creating a constellation across his skin that matches your own, as if the fates are pulling you together.

“chishiya,” you whisper. your voice is low. your heartbeat pounds in your ears. the world around you slowly begins to fade. the only thing that matters is the man standing in front of you, looking into your eyes as if he’ll be able to read your mind if he searches deep enough.

“y/n,” he breathes. you hesitantly reach a hand up to push his bangs behind his ear, exposing more of his face. your hand hovers before his face before you rest it against the skin. chishiya doesn’t move away. instead, he leans into your touch. he tilts his head a little closer to you. “can i kiss you?”

your breath hitches in your throat. you haven’t been sure of anything since you entered the borderland until now. now, you’re sure. you want to kiss him.

you lean in to press your lips against chishiya’s in a sweet kiss. his lips quirk upwards as he reaches out to hold your hips, coaxing your body even closer. the world could have ended - the beach fallen, vegetation taken over the land, lasers killed everyone - but none of it would matter. because you were kissing chishiya.

"i'm here now"

(word count 342)

it’s late. too late. the sun has set by now. the stars have begun to twinkle in the sky above chishiya. he sighs, leaning back against the wall. you should be back by now. where are you?

an unfamiliar feeling of anxiety settles into chishiya’s stomach. he’s not used to caring about people. not like this. his mind is running like it always is, though it’s never felt so much like a burden before. chishiya had always prided himself on his ability to analyze situations. he could tell how someone was feeling, pick holes into any theories or ideas presented, find the most rational solution and use it to his advantage.

but right now, chishiya doesn’t want to be rational. all of the signs point to you being dead. why else would you be so late coming back? you’ve been missing for hours. it’s far past the evening now. even if you do come back now you’ll have to find the beach in the darkness.

he’s broken out of his thoughts by something moving. he only notices it in the corner of his eye, but it’s something - someone. he steps closer, squinting into the darkness. it’s you.

you’re limping along the asphalt of the road towards the beach’s hotel. chishiya simply stares at you for a few seconds. before he realizes what he’s doing, his body begins moving on its own. he’s running towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist, supporting your body weight against his own as you lean against him. dried blood stains your clothes and is splattered on your face.

“chishiya,” you sigh, clutching onto him. his mind is racing. instead of asking all of the questions that linger on the tip of his tongue, he pulls you closer. chishiya presses his lips against yours in a desperate kiss - as if you’ll disappear if he stops touching you.

his hands linger on your cheeks when he pulls away, wiping away the tears and blood from your face. “it’s okay,” he whispers. “you’re gonna be okay. i’m here now.”

"come back to bed"

(word count 291)

you groan as chishiya gently coaxes your body to the side, maneuvering your body so you’re laying on the bed instead of his chest. you reach out to grab him, pushing him back down onto the bed. chishiya sighs in defeat as you nuzzle your face against him, effectively holding him down with your own body weight. “did i wake you?” he whispers.

“you’re so warm,” your voice is muffled against his skin. “i always notice when you leave.”

chishiya hums, raising a hand to rub against your back. he gently scratches his nails against your bare skin. it feels so intimate to lay like this. your chest pressed against his own, blankets only pulled halfway over your bodies, sunlight streaming through the windows.

“we have things to do today.”

“we always have things to do,” you whine, shifting to sleepily blink up at him. chishiya lets a small smile spread across his face. “we won a game last night. let’s just stay like this for a while.”

you know you’ve won the debate when chishiya’s smile grows. he throws his head back to lean against the pillows. you smile yourself, moving upwards to press a kiss against his jawline before laying back down on his body again, this time with your head against his shoulder. “i hate it when you do this.”

“do what? cuddle with you? kiss you? force you to get a good night’s sleep?”

chishiya huffs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “you’re too cute to argue with.”

you can’t help being flustered, shoving your face back into the crook of his neck. “you love it.”

“i love you.”

you press a kiss against his neck, smiling when goosebumps raise along his skin. “i love you too.”

"are you sure about this?"

(word count 274)

“chishiya?” said man doesn’t even spare a glance at you as he continues working on yet another invention. his shoulders are hunched from how close he’s leaning in to see exactly what he’s doing. you can almost feel how stressed he is, even from across the room.

you lock the door behind you before stepping closer. you slowly reach out to press a hand against his shoulder, leaning down to see exactly what he’s doing. he’s holding an empty soda can, fiddling with a mess of wires in his hands. a bottle sits on the desk - something he stole from the mechanics. kerosene.

“you’re making another bomb?” this time he finally acknowledges you, albeit only with a small hum. unfazed by his dismissive behavior you reach over, slowly forcing him to set the wires down. chishiya looks up at you now, silently questioning what you’re doing. instead of answering you push his chair back.

chishiya’s hands ghost against your hips as you throw your leg over his to straddle his hips. big brown eyes blink up at you as you lean in, finally pressing your lips to his. it starts off innocent enough. sitting in chishiya’s lap isn’t an uncommon experience in your relationship. though things quickly become more heated when he leans up to press his lips against yours into a deeper kiss this time.

you’re nearly gasping for air when you finally pull away. his face has a light flush, disheveled blonde hair messily pulled into a ponytail. “are you sure about this?” you whisper.

chishiya leans up, pulling you into yet another kiss. “i’ve never been more sure about anything else.”

"i could stay like this forever"

(word count 338)

chishiya sighs as he enters your shared room. what was supposed a free day was quickly turned into an incredibly long bore when hatter called him and the other executives into meetings for everything he could think of. though pointless, not showing up would risk damaging his position of authority, small as it may be, so he reluctantly dragged himself to the room and sat around at a table for hours.

you’re sitting on the bed, already waiting for him. he raises an eyebrow at you, kicking his sandals off and stripping from his jacket. the beach’s air conditioning does little to cool him down after spending so long sitting around in a room. “i thought you were supposed to hang out with kuina tonight.”

“i was,” you sigh. “but that was when i thought i would be spending the day with you. besides, she’s hanging out with arisu and usagi tonight. something about wanting to get to know them better.”

chishiya hums, sitting down on the bed. you pat the spot next to you, gesturing for him to lay down. despite his questions he obeys, moving so he’s face down on the bed. you shift so you’re hovering over him, pressing your hands against his back. he groans, letting you massage the tension out of his muscles and shoulders.

after a while, chishiya sighs. you take the cue to move off of him, rolling to lay next to him. he shifts onto his side to look at you, reaching over to pull you into a kiss. it’s gentle. sweet. your lips quirk upwards into a smile when he pulls away. you take the opportunity to hold him down, pressing little kisses all over his face. chishiya laughs at the ticklish feeling. it’s a beautiful sound - one you don’t hear far often enough. when you pull away both of you look at each other with small, loving smiles. an unspoken agreement passes between the both of you. despite it all, you wouldn’t give this up for the world.

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