#a visual summary of this blog

[f1tf]

willingly letting gorgeous tan white men with insane bone structure, snuffleupagus lashes, and unreal eyes that change color with the clothes they wear ruin my life

[circusballoon]

Art summary time!

Things were going slow but steady this year, and then... I discovered In Stars and Time in April... ISaT kicked my love of drawing back into full gear and I've been finding SO much joy in creating again. Very pink and purple, as always :D

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[angelgoeslewd]

Dreams of Crimson

🔮 summary: it starts off small. but Pierrot is nothing if not observant. it's hard to miss the way his color slowly starts creeping into your everyday life.

⚠️ warning: none so far in this fic, but please be aware that this blog (and this game, I believe) are 18+!

💫 a/n: this visual novel has been following me around, much like Pierrot himself. I am completely obsessed with this man clown demon thing. Simping for clown men was NOT on my 2025 bingo list. yes I wrote this all in one sitting at midnight LEAVE ME ALONE I AM CRAZY ABT THIS MAN. yes there is potentially a smutty sequel. and a follow up.

‼️ DISCLAIMER: The Freak Circus (and Pierrot!) belong to @nekoboydreams ! I am simply borrowing him for my own guilty pleasure. ❤️ Please go check out their blog and their amazing game on itch.io!

"Pierrot!"

Your voice is like a melody of untold saccharine promises, sweetly rising above the crowded sidewalks; you’re shouting for him, but you could’ve whispered and he still would’ve heard, heard the familiar beat of your heart, it’s rhythmic pounding as known to him as the back of his hand.

His fingers unwillingly clenched a bit harder, crinkling the flyers in his hand — his heart does too, but that’s another matter entirely. What does matter, is the fact that you are searching for him, out of your own desire, pushing against the crowds of people to find your place in front of him.

“Pierrot!” You exclaim, your voice as light and sunshiny as the summer breeze, chest heaving with effort from your ordeal to get to him, but finally, finally!, within reasonable distance. He can feel his face flush as he raises a hand to greet you, bells on his hand tinkling as he tilts his head in question. Oh, how he wished he could tuck that strand of loose hair behind your ear, how he wished he could embrace you lovingly, feel your heart against his chest, the sweat dripping down your neck as he leaned in and—

You giggle, reaching forward to coyly grab his raised hand with your own and letting the intertwined pair swinging between the two of you. Your actions pull both of you closer and Pierrot nearly squeaks, but he cannot. It is imperative he does not.

“Flyers again today, huh?”

He nods, still trying to meet your eyes and not stare down at your hands. He fails quite often, however, and your smile grows a bit larger.

“Will you have time to come by the shop today?”

He's trying not to keep looking, trying to focus on your question. Still, he can't prevent the way his body is going rigid, trying to keep his twisted devotion at bay, hurriedly attempting to push down the acid he can feel creeping up his throat, his saliva filling his throat, nearly spilling through his lips that he's since pressed shut.

You seem to notice this battle within himself, your head tilting down and to the side, subtly loosening your grip on his hand to stroke your finger up his arm.

Your red-tinted finger.

There, on your nails, is the exact color of Pierrot's coat, painted upon yourself. Like his pin is no longer enough for you. Must you cover yourself in his own color? Do you know what this does to him? Do you understand what this means?

He trembles under your touch. You bite your lip.

"You'll... be there, yeah? Promise...?"

You lean in at the last part, mimicking his own scene at your human workplace, and it drives him absolutely wild.

Mimickry is the highest form of flattery, after all...

Pierrot swallows, his eyes now no longer able to leave your face. The way your own gaze shifts to something... dark, it haunts him. Leaves him burning with a desire to pick you up and carry you off this instant, see if you can handle what wicked form his love comes in. But he knows he cannot do that, no. This town is far too suspicious of them already. Such a scene would cause unnecessary issues. And potential authority involvement. Something he absolutely needed to avoid, unfortunately.

He nods. Your fingers leave a cold, lonely path as they retract.

"I'll see you there," you whisper, no longer quite so innocent, lips puckering in what could be an air kiss as you leave, a last glance thrown his way. Or it could be simply a trick of the light. Pierrot's reality is slipping. He cannot discern which it is.

When he looks down, all the flyers in his hands have holes punctured in them, perfectly aligned with his fingers.

You, on the other hand, would love it if Pierrot could show up more often. It would save you from the utter boredom that is your shift. Another day, another shift, another personality you shift to in order to line your pockets with as many tips as you can get. The wariness gets to you, especially when the frost keeps everyone coming in for another hot pot of coffee. But Pierrot… he’s… different, you think, pressing down the button to brew another batch of black coffee. A unique spice (or, rather, sweetness?) to your day, something… new. You ponder if it’s the trace of intimidation and fear you get when you’re around the mysterious man, or maybe the thrill of exhilaration, as you shake the canister of sugar into someone’s cup, the way his eyes outline your figure, undressing you with nothing but his gaze, like he wants to peel every article of clothing off of you with his teeth.

“Ouch! …oh. Oops.” The cup overflows. Hot coffee burns your finger as you pull it away and wipe down the counter, erasing your mistake with nothing more than burning cheeks.

As the customers idly chat about another missing person, another piece of gossip, your hands and body go through the motions: make, serve, clean, smile, but your heart and mind are somewhere else entirely. The way Pierrot looked at you this morning, the way he said your name with such affection when you were alone... You are utterly enchanted with that man, regardless of what your boss said. You got this sick sort of fulfillment whenever you were near him, like that was where you needed to be. This need to be his. It was almost embarrassingly juvenile. The way you wished for more, more, more of him, like you were a grown-assed person with your own life, your own desires. It was like, ugh, it was like he was becoming a part of you and you were falling right into the trap.

"And did you hear... he was walking around with the same color lipstick she was wearing, right there on his cheek!"

A gasped, "no!" follows suit.

Your eyes blink over to the table next to the counter. Their words catching your ear with an eagerness you’ve never felt before. It gets too many ideas spinning, like a web of unholy strings lacing up your heart.

“Hey… Boss? Can I have a quick break? I need to run out really quick.”

Though, maybe you would regret saying you wanted your devilish red suitor around more often, knowing how often Harlequin followed whenever you had contact with Pierrot.

“Hello, little one.”

“Ugh. You again?”

Harlequin’s smile grows ever wider, but so does the corners of his eyes… or, mask? You still can’t tell. You’re wondering how he does that when he speaks again.

“Don’t sound so disgusted, darling. I know you’ve been missing me.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, clutching the small paper bag closer to your chest, your eyes scanning for a way around the tall man as he corners you between the pharmacy and the sidewalk. “As if. Keep dreaming.” You move to go around him, but his bells jingle as he sticks out an arm to stop you. “What do you want now? I’m still not taking a ticket from you.”

“No… I have something else in mind. Whatever is in the bag, dearest?”

You look away quickly, too quickly, unfortunately, and an emerald colored arm reaches out to grab the corner of your purchase, which you, of course, try to slap away, but he’s too fast, and ends up grabbing the offending appendage.

“Oh, ho, ho! What ever could that be, you’re so eager to hide? Could it be something for that Pierrot?”

“No!” You exclaim, trying to tug away from him. “No, it’s just… something for me.”

“Now, why don’t I believe you? What a naughty little one you are, continuing to lie when I know the truth?”

You feel your face begin to burn and you’re starting to put your entire body into pulling your hand back, when you feel warmth, behind you. You look up, and there, towering above you, is Pierrot, a dark look taking over his face, as he stares directly at Harlequin. In a flash, his hand is taking yours, ripping it out of Harlequin’s grasp with almost no effort. You feel like it should’ve hurt, but he’s delicately clutching you like you’re a petal that’s landed in his clutches.

“Pierrot… that’s not very nice. We were having a lovely conversation! Weren’t we, dear?”

You say nothing, just huff your annoyance, and turn around, pressing your bag to your chest once more.

“How… petulant,” he clicks, though he sounds less annoyed and more amused, he punctuates this with a low, dark laugh, that sends chills running up your spine, “Well. If there’s really no more fun to be had here… I’ll see you around, darling. Try not to keep me waiting.” And you don’t hear him leave, but you just know he’s slinked off into another dark alley to haunt, leaving the two of you somewhat alone.

You end up speaking first. “I… I’m sorry, Pierrot. I didn’t think I’d end up causing you more trouble today.” You sigh, letting your arms fall to your sides, as you raise your eyes to meet his. They softly scan your face, concernedly looking you over. “He didn’t get to me, don’t worry. He was just… pushy today.”

Pierrot pulls your hand up to inspect, and you wiggle your fingers in his grasp, giggling as his attention. “I promise! I’m fine, nothing hurts!” He nods, but moves your hand up to his mouth, gently pressing your hand against it. “A kiss for my boo-boo? Awww, Pierrot! Well… I’ve got something for you too.”

He lets you take your hand back and you rummage around in the bag you were so desperate to preserve a minute around, curious eyes following as you pluck out… a tube of lipstick.

A tube of red lipstick, to be exact.

Your eyes flutter downwards as you explain, “It- It was supposed to be a surprise… But Harlequin is good at ruining my plans.”

You can’t tell what Pierrot is feeling for a moment, because he just goes still. And then… he’s shaking, head to toe, gloved hand reaching out to pull the container from your grasp, his breathes coming in loud and heavy, louder than you’ve ever heard them, and he’s using a finger to push up your face, uncapping the lipstick, and shakily tracing over your lips, though, he begins to shake too hard near the end and you have to reach up and guide his hand over the last part of your lips. And when it’s done…

He drops the lipstick so fast you don’t even have time to exclaim, his arms go around your waist, hoisting you up onto him, your legs wrapping around his torso in reflex, “Pi-Pierrot!” His eyes are locked onto yours, reflecting a gaze that’s just as full of desire, and then he presses his mouth against yours, pulling back, letting you see the way your lipstick smeared on his mouth before dipping his head back in for another, and another, and another.

You’re laughing by the end of it, as he takes his second-hand lipstick covered lips and places kisses down your neck, red marks blooming all down your jugular, incomplete and messy and all around gorgeous because they’re from him.

“I, I was supposed to do this to you! Pierrot! Stop! We’re still in public!” Though it’s hard to believe you really want him to, as you playfully hiccup with giggles every time he does it. Eventually, he pulls away for a final time, you still in his arms, and Pierrot simply grins at you, nodding his approval.

“I’m surprised you can hold me this long. You’re really strong, Pierrot. But… you liked it then?” He eagerly nods. “Good. I was hoping you would. I, uh… gotta get back to the coffee shop. I took my break to do this… and I was planning on doing this later but… you know. Maybe later we can… do some more?” He nods, again, more resolutely this time, and you expect him to simply let you down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he dips you down, making your arms fly up and around his neck, and presses one more kiss to your mouth, before he lets go of your legs, but keeps one arm on your waist in order to lower you to the ground, mouths still connected.

You pull back, hoping people don’t notice your bashfulness, and wave Pierrot goodbye. Well. You didn’t expect your teasing to backfire, but… that was a good thing, right?

And Pierrot… he watches your form leave, utterly dumbfounded. His fingers come up to touch his lips, wondering if this was real, or another dream he’s conjured up about you. But the way they tingle when he presses against them has him growling lowly. It’s not enough. He needs more of you. And you… are so pliant, letting him trace over your life in red colored ink, tugging him further and further into a fate from which there is no return. Just how far will you take him into these depths…?

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

This may be a silly question… but I’m an artist trying to learn backgrounds. I’ve studied perspective until my hands fell off, but I don’t know how to choose an angle or not make things look wonky. I’ve tried asking a lot of artists, but I’m hoping to hear more than “just draw backgrounds”, because I have been, but I’m not improving.

Do you have any tips on how to practice?

The anonymous ask is much more recent but it reminded me of another ask from @cerealssoggies i forgot to answer thats, OOF... gotten old. Sorry about that. I'll answer your ask more directly at the end of this.

I'll talk about the perspective ask first. Anon... I'll answer your question as best as I can!

I think what makes perspective tricky is the beginning, when you're using perspective lines and grids and such to map out the picture. Because the actual technique of 2 point perspective isn't hard or complicated, it's getting the scene to look the way it does in your head thats tricky. I'm talking about the metaphorical "camera" location, angle, and... idk, focal length? If I'm using that phrase correctly.

So you can draw something like a simple square bedroom, and by the time you're done placing your horizon line, vanishing point, and perspective lines, and actually start drawing, you realize it doesn't look like how it does in your head. And from there, it's hard or nearly impossible to move things around to look like your vision, so you'll be tweaking each thing individually: uhh, let's move the horizon line down, the left vanishing point further? The right one closer? Both further? Huh??? And it's frustrating.

I've found, if you're drawing an environment from your imagination, the best way to start is to draw an teeeeny tiny thumbnail sketch. The smaller the better. Not just environments, but any drawing idea is easier to map out when it's smaller. Your brain can latch onto the visual as a whole when it's all tiny on a piece of paper.

Drawing my current blog header, the one of ford's research tent, I had a similar pickle. I knew exactly where I wanted the camera to be, in the corner of the tent, and I knew I wanted the camera to be more wide, so you could see most of his tent while keeping the feeling that it's small. I started digitally with perspective lines and quickly got frustrated. SO - I took to my sketchbook and thought reeeeeally hard about what it looked like in my head, and tried mapping it out in a tiny tiny thumbnail. Here's what that looked like:

This was closer to what I wanted than what I first had on my computer. I knew from there that I wanted the furniture items to be closer together and the camera higher (you can see my scribble writing saying this), so I scanned my thumbnail, and drew on top of it to get closer to the vision. Then, from there, I was able to add a proper perspective grid based on what I had already drawn.

THEN you can finally get down to the fun part - actually populating your room with furniture and details. I put this sketch on paper and did most of the real drawing traditionally:

In summary: instead of jumping straight into perspective theory, thumbnail the idea as rough as you can. Then base the angles of the perspective lines on your thumbnail.

But.... even still, I don't have the strongest ability to picture things mentally, and not everyone is gonna be able to do that (although it is a good muscle to exercise.) Sort of a segue into the second ask - those backgrounds of dibs car? I straight up traced over pictures I took of my car. I'm not the biggest advocate for tracing, it does kind of feel like cheating, BUT for the purposes of this animation? There's no point in getting on a high horse. I needed to draw his car like 10 times and there was no reason to torture myself. I did photoshop some of the photos before I drew over them because the focal length made the car look bigger than I wanted it to? And a lot of it was guessing what the car looked like behind the front seats, etc.

But this does remind me of an exercise I did in school for an illustration mentorship class. The mentor for one unit was a set designer working for Netflix. She was given photos of a room that a scene would be shot in, and she drew the set on top of it: like furniture, decorations, etc. So my assignment was to choose a stock photo, and do some world building concept art based on the photo. From the photo, you can figure out the perspective by identifying lines/angles that theoretically lead to a vanishing point. You need at least two lines, and you extend them really far and see where they cross. Where they meet is a vanishing point. Find two vanishing points and they are level with the horizon line. Then use the perspective dots you just found to draw furniture, items, and you can even get creative and change the shape/height/size of the rooms/buildings/etc, while still using the same perspective.

If an image from the internet feels too much like cheating (it SHOULDN'T, you'll only learn from it and your drawing won't look anything like the image by the time you're done), you can always take your own photos. This technique is honestly what made me enjoy drawing backgrounds in the first place. It made it fun! And drawing should be fun.

I still do this sort of thing today. Here's the reference picture I had my sister take of me for my Fairy godmother illustration. (This is from a couple years ago.) I drew on top of it in photoshop to get my best guess as to the lines and angles. I didn't trace this one, but I did use it very heavily for reference!

So I guess... to summarize both techniques, don't jump right into perspective. Best way to start, that's fun and not wildly frustrating, is to use a photo. If your vision is hyper specific, start from a tiny thumbnail and work your way up. Then the fun part!! Populating the scene with furniture and items and fun little details.

To answer @cerealssoggies question more directly: omg, thank you?? :O💞 I'm always so wowed when people talk about my prints and where they put them. I'm really glad you like the fairy godmother one! My mom also has one hung up in her room lol!

My advice on the design front isn't as specific, because that always felt like the easy part. Once you have the room or whatever mapped out, it's just about drawing all the Stuff. Which for me usually means getting in the head of the character and asking myself what sort of things they'd have around themselves and their environment. And obviously if the setting isn't a characters room/personal environment like the previous three examples, then you'd just have to think about what the environments purpose is, and what sort of stuff would be there. When I'm thinking about a background before I draw it, I'll ask myself what items or features it will have. For the ford tent, I made a list of all the stuff I thought he might have in there (I googled winter camping trip packing lists, as well as science-y tools and gadgets). For dibs car, I asked people on tumblr for suggestions as to what I should put in there.

And look up references! Reference is always a good thing.

In real life, I'm a maximalist and a clutterbug. This bleeds into my drawings - I like it when an environment feels full and lived in.

Here's my bedroom lol.

WELL typing and compiling this took up a greater portion of my Friday but I really hope this was helpful to you and others!!

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XX ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au. — warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy. — word count: 4,801. — tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23, @leathesimp. —the lost queen series masterlist. — ko-fi

Chapter 20

The march was an ordeal for all involved. The scorching summer heat punished soldiers and animals alike, making each step a monumental effort. Armor gleamed in the merciless sun, and the air seemed to ripple with the heat rising from the arid ground. The mood was almost palpable, a shadow that followed the ranks like an unwelcome companion. Yet everyone knew that they would rather face the scorching sun than face the icy winter winds that chilled them to the bone.

The destination was Babylon, a journey that would take months, according to the strategists' calculations. The army, vast in number and presence, advanced slowly due to the chariots, tents, and supplies that accompanied it. This slowness irritated Alexander deeply. He was completely focused on his goal: to rescue his wife, no matter the cost.

He was Alexander, and he would raze cities, enslave people, and send men to the sword until he recovered his wife, his Queen.

His wife and child were waiting for him. Alexander missed (Y/N) terribly. The moments they spent together, few but significant, did not make up for the emptiness in his chest due to his wife's absence. Nothing could fill the void that was eating away at him except having her in his arms once more, and this time he would be sure that no one could take her away from him again.

Impatience was eating away at him. He ardently wished to have wings like Icarus, to take flight and cross the sky to the gates of Babylon. Each day that passed seemed like an insult to his desire for action, an affront to his restless spirit.

It was then that he made a strategic decision. To speed up the advance, he decided to divide the army in two. He would lead the vanguard, accompanied by his main officers and the elite of his soldiers. The rearguard would be under the command of Parmenion, an experienced and trustworthy general. It would still take time to reach the city, but the movement would be faster with fewer men and baggage at the front.

Alexander would naturally lead the first group. His eagerness to advance as quickly as possible was almost tangible. Part of him wanted to mount Bucephalus and gallop non-stop to Babylon, ignoring all the risks of the road. However, reason prevailed over impulse. He knew that abandoning his army would be foolish. The path was treacherous, full of possible ambushes and challenges that would require his command and leadership. And he could not simply leave his own people behind.

As the sun set, dyeing the horizon red and gold, Alexander rode at the head of his troops, his gaze fixed on the east. Babylon was far away, but in his mind, he could already visualize the city gates, the imposing walls and the reunion that fueled his spirit. Determined and tireless, he advanced, guided by passion and the promise of victory.

Soon, he promised himself, (Y/N) would be back in his arms and he would never let her leave his side again.

"Alexander, please. The soldiers and animals need to rest." Hephaestion insisted, his voice thick with concern. He watched his friend closely as the men set up their makeshift camp for the night. The sky was already painted with shades of purple and gold, announcing the end of the day, but Alexander remained restless, almost oblivious to the exhaustion of everyone around him.

If it were up to him alone, Alexander would have continued the march without hesitation, ignoring the approaching darkness and the limits of the human body. But he knew that leadership was not just about giving orders; it was also about understanding the needs of his men. As much as he wanted to force them forward until their feet were raw, he needed to be wise.

"Fine," Alexander replied with a heavy sigh, finally giving in. He removed his sword from his belt and placed it at his side, as if the act symbolized a brief surrender. His eyes, intense and determined, fixed on Hephaestion. "But tell them that tomorrow, at first light, we will march again!"

Hephaestion sighed deeply, a mixture of relief and frustration. He knew Alexander better than anyone, and knew that this was as much of a concession as he could get. "I will," He replied with a slight nod, before walking away to relay his orders.

The camp soon came to life, filled with the sound of the soldiers' tired voices. Some drank wine around the campfires, their hoarse laughter mingling with the crackle of the flames. Others ate in silence or tended to their wounds, enjoying the brief respite of a night without marching.

Inside his tent, Alexander secluded himself. Sitting on a simple rug, he opened his copy of the Iliad. The epic poem was more than just reading material for him; it was a refuge, an anchor in the midst of the storm that raged within his mind. His eyes scanned the words greedily, absorbing the stories of heroes and battles that he so admired.

Alexander could not help but make the inevitable comparison. Once again, he saw himself as Achilles, the hero he so admired and whose legacy he aspired to equal — or even surpass. Hephaestion, ever loyal and ever present, was to him what Patroclus had been to the legendary warrior, a friend, a soul brother, someone he trusted more than himself.

But there was a third figure in this epic narrative that shaped his life. (Y/N), his wife, was his Briseis. Just as Agamemnon had torn Briseis from Achilles, breaking the hero's trust and inciting his fury, (Y/N) had been taken from Alexander. Not by a superior commander, but by Perdiccas — someone he had dared to call a friend.

Perdiccas' betrayal was an open wound in Alexander's heart. A man he had trusted had now allied himself with the Persians, keeping his wife captive. The memory of (Y/N)'s face, her beauty, her grace, her laughter, fueled his determination. He refused to accept that she would remain out of his arms, held captive like a trophy of war.

Thoughts boiled in his mind as he clenched his fists. He knew that, like Achilles, his anger and pain would drive him. But unlike the Greek hero, Alexander would not let anger cloud his mission. He would use his intelligence, his skill as a strategist, and his unbreakable willpower to get her back. He has to.

No matter the price he had to pay. No matter how many men or how many miles separated them. He would cross deserts, face armies, and defy even the gods if necessary. Because (Y/N) was not just his wife; she was his heart, the part of him that made him human amidst the divinity of his dreams.

And just as Achilles had gone after Briseis, Alexander would go to Babylon to seek (Y/N). But unlike his favorite hero, he would not let anyone stop him. Perdiccas would pay for his betrayal, the Persians would fall, and he would bring his wife back. No matter the cost. No matter the time. He would get her back.

And everyone who got in his way would be killed.

"Do you really think capturing Babylon right away is a good idea?" Nearchus's voice cut through the crackling of the fire, carrying the drawl of someone who had had a little too much to drink. He swung his wine cup slightly, the dark liquid reflecting the flames.

The other generals looked up, some with impatience, others with amusement. The firelight illuminated their battle-scarred faces, creating shadows that made them look even more worn from the campaign. Alexander was in his tent, lost in thought or reading, as usual, and none of them dared disturb him. As for Hephaestion, they all knew he was busy with his endless duties, and though he had been invited, he had politely declined.

So that left just them. As always.

"Do you want my honest opinion, or would you prefer a more optimistic one?' Ptolemy replied, his mocking smile shining in the firelight. He held his wine with the same casualness of someone going about their day, though the irony was evident in his tone.

Nearchus wrinkled his nose, clearly dissatisfied with the answer, but he didn't bother to reply. He simply took another sip of his wine, perhaps as a way to distract himself. Cassander, as was typical of him, rolled his eyes dramatically and muttered something unintelligible that seemed to include the words "idiots" and "waste of time."

Cleitus, on the other hand, laughed. The sound was low, almost infectious, and it made the others look at him for a moment. He seemed more relaxed than usual, warmed by the wine and the rare camaraderie they shared in the midst of war.

"You may be a bunch of blockheads," He said, gesturing with his free hand, "but oddly enough, I like being here with you."

There was something genuine in his words, though the alcohol certainly helped. No matter how much they had their differences —and there were many — there was an unbreakable bond between them. They could tease each other, argue, and even fight, but when it came time to fight, they trusted each other as friends, as brothers, perhaps.

"Don't get all emotional now, Cleitus." Cassander's mocking voice echoed through the circle of generals, thick with irony as he arched an eyebrow. His green eyes glinted mischievously in the flickering light of the fire, ready to provoke.

"And don’t get all bitter, Cassander," Cleitus snapped back without missing a beat, his tone sharp but with a hint of humor. He leaned forward slightly, as if preparing the final blow. "Tell me, is your bed really that empty?"

Cassander's face hardened, his mouth already opening to spew a sharp retort, but before he could fire off his retort, Ptolemy held up a hand, interrupting him with a tone of restrained exasperation.

"Now, no more arguing, huh?" He grumbled as he tilted the jar to refill his cup, the red liquid glistening in the light of the flames. "We're having a decent time, and we don't need two bickering children to ruin it."

Cleitus chuckled softly, shaking his head as he finished his wine in one gulp, not caring when a few drops escaped and stained his dark beard. He looked pleased with himself, relaxing back into his makeshift chair.

Cassander, on the other hand, looked indignant. He shot Ptolemy a sharp look, clearly annoyed at being compared to a child, but decided not to prolong the argument. With an expression that was a mix of irritation and disdain, he just snorted, muttering something unintelligible before picking up his own wine cup.

Nearchus, already visibly drunker, resumed the conversation, his voice carrying a note of sincere concern, albeit slurred. "But seriously, I don't think it’s a good idea to attack Babylon so immediately. The Persians have probably already received the news. They must be preparing, and honestly, another siege is not at all pleasant. We will lose more men than necessary."

The words hung in the air, and Ptolemy sighed, placing his wine cup on the floor, his gaze distant and thoughtful. "Yes, you are right. But what can we do? Alexander is determined. And.... She is our Queen."

The mention of (Y/N) brought a brief silence between the men. The light of the fire seemed to shine a little brighter in each of their eyes as they thought of her. Although the time they spent with her was limited, (Y/N) had earned a special place among the Macedonians.

She was not just Alexander's wife; she was a singular presence, able to touch even the most hardened hearts from years of war. Everyone remembered how she had saved Cleitus from certain death in a previous incident, defying orders to ensure he received medical care, how she had saved him with her own hands. Her kind heart and dedication to every soldier, regardless of rank, were rare qualities.

"She's different," Cleitus murmured, breaking the silence. He stared into the wine in his cup, as if the words had come out of themselves. "She didn’t have to, but she cares. About all of us."

The others nodded silently, even Cassander, who usually maintained a cynical air, seemed lost in thought.

Besides all that, (Y/N) was a good influence on Alexander. Where he was fire, she was the water that balanced him. She brought humanity to the king, reminding him that leadership was not just about conquest, but also about care and responsibility.

That was why they marched. It wasn't just for Alexander, or his glory, or the empire he sought to build. It was also for her, their Queen, someone who didn't deserve to be held captive. They would bring her back, not just out of duty, but because she had become part of the soul of the army.

Cleitus rose from his seat with a determined movement, his eyes shining in the firelight. With the firm stance of a warrior and the conviction of a man who knew what he was fighting for — or in this case, who he was fighting for — he raised his cup of wine.

"For our Queen!" His voice rang out loudly, full of respect and devotion.

For a moment, silence fell, but then, one by one, the other generals followed suit. Cups were raised to the starry sky, almost as an offering to the gods, the glow of the fire reflecting off the red liquids that danced within them.

"For our Queen!" They repeated in unison, their voices mingling, full of fervor and loyalty.

The wine was drank, but the true toast had been made long before that moment. It was in their hearts, in their determination. They would march for Alexander, for the empire, for glory — but above all, they would march for her.

And they would not rest until their Queen was free. And until everyone involved in her kidnapping was dead.

A few days before the march,

Roxanna moved restlessly around her room, unable to contain the anxiety that was eating away at her chest. She felt her servant's fingers sliding through her long black hair, gently combing it, but not even the repetitive gesture could calm her. Her thoughts were far away, swirling around a single name.

"Leave me alone." Her voice was firm, but without emotion. She did not deign to look at her servant, who obeyed immediately, leaving her with her whirlwind of thoughts.

Her father's visit a few hours earlier had only served to heighten her uneasiness.

"Seduce him, Roxanna. Make him marry you. For our people."

His words repeated in her mind like a crushing burden. It wasn’t just a suggestion; it was an order. A mission.

She sighed, her eyes lost in the reflection of the bronze mirror before her. Yes, Alexander was a handsome man. An unbeatable warrior, a powerful king. He could offer protection to her people, he could give her a position no other woman in Bactria had ever held. But she wasn't sure if it was the right choice. Not while another woman stood in his way.

Alexander's wife.

Her disappearance should have been a boon to Roxanna, but instead it seemed to only strengthen the bond between them. She knew it was common for a king to have multiple wives, mistresses even. But this.... This was different. Alexander had taken no mistresses — at least not that she knew of — and he was desperate to find her.

In any other circumstance, Roxanna might have found it romantic. A king's devotion, his unbreakable loyalty to one woman. But not now. Not when she wanted to be the only one.

She clasped her hands tightly, her heart pounding.

If she had Alexander's son, he would have to be the heir. The only legitimate heir.

But for that to happen, (Y/N) needed to disappear for good. She might be Darius' captive, but she was still alive. And that was a problem.

Roxanna sighed heavily, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands wrapped around her head as she tried to organize her thoughts. Her fate depended on her next decision, but the path ahead seemed foggy.

Before she could delve any deeper into her worries, her doubts, a loud sound echoed through the room — a firm knock on the door. She jumped, her heart racing in alert. She wasn't expecting anyone.

She frowned, straightening her posture and composing herself before answering.

"Come in." Her voice was firm, though it carried a hint of hesitation.

The door opened slowly, revealing an unfamiliar figure. Roxanna held her breath.

The man who entered was unusually handsome, exuding an aura of mystery and sophistication. His dark, deep-set, attentive eyes seemed to carry the weight of worldly knowledge. He smiled kindly, but something in his posture revealed that this was no ordinary visitor.

His dark hair fell softly over his forehead, and his rich, ornate robes were clearly Persian.

Roxanna felt her body stiffen. Who was he?

"Who... Who are you?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she kept her gaze fixed on him.

The man inclined his head slightly in a respectful gesture, a smile still playing on his lips.

"Aslan, at your service, my lady."

The name sounded strange to her ears. It wasn't Greek. Nor Persian. At least, not from a place she knew.

And that made her even more suspicious.

Roxanna felt a shiver run down her spine as Aslan took a step forward, his smile remaining enigmatic.

"Why are you here?" She tried to keep her voice steady, though a hint of nervousness betrayed her composure. "It's not proper for a woman to be alone with a man, I—"

Before she could finish, he interrupted her.

"Don't worry, little star. I'll be quick."

The nickname took her by surprise, and she opened her mouth to respond, but Aslan was already moving closer. His movement was fluid, confident, as if he was in control of everything around him. Roxanna took a step back instinctively, her muscles tensing in alert.

He laughed softly, a low, melodious sound, without a trace of threat.

"You don't need to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you." His voice was soft, reassuring. His dark eyes, which had seemed enigmatic and unfathomable before, softened.

Roxanna blinked, feeling her own heart slow down. The irrational fear that had gripped her seconds before began to dissipate, replaced by a strange calm.

She didn’t know why, but somehow... She believed him.

"I heard that you might become the second wife of our dear King Alexander." He began, his gaze roaming the room as if he were analyzing every detail.

Roxanna didn't bother to hide her displeasure at the title “second wife.” Her lips tightened, but she remained silent, just staring at the stranger.

Aslan smiled, as if he had already expected this reaction.

"And something tells me you're not happy with this arrangement." He continued, looking directly at her again. "Of course, nothing has been declared yet, and I doubt Alexander will marry you while sweet (Y/N) is still under the Persians. But the possibility exists. After all, it would be a beneficial alliance, especially since Darius' daughter, Stateira, is not yet of marriageable age. You would be the most obvious choice."

Roxanna felt a chill run down her spine as Aslan spoke, his words laced with a seductive yet dangerously calculated tone. She arched a dark brow, assessing him with a mix of curiosity and caution. Where was this conversation going?

Then Aslan tilted his head slightly, his gaze gleaming with something between amusement and intent.

"You see, little star," He murmured, his voice a soft, almost hypnotic purr. "I am a man of many talents. And I can make your problem disappear."

His smile widened, and Roxanna felt her stomach turn.

She knew exactly what problem he was talking about.

The silence that followed felt heavy, as if fate itself awaited Roxanna's decision.

A part of her, the rational one, screamed that this was a terrible idea. Nothing came for free, and Aslan was clearly no mere benefactor. But another part — the ambitious, desirous, dreamy part — was filled with excitement.

The idea of ​​being the only queen, the mother of the future heir, the woman at the great Alexander's side...

The thought warmed her chest like fire.

Aslan noticed her hesitation and kept his smile patient, as if he already knew what the answer would be.

"All you have to do is ask me, and I will rid you of your problem." He said it casually, as if he were offering something trivial.

A shiver ran down Roxanna's spine. She swallowed hard. She wasn't naive. She knew that nothing was done without a price.

"And what do you want in return?" Her voice was firm, but her heart was hammering in her chest.

Aslan smiled broadly, his dark gaze glittering.

"Don't worry about that now," He purred. "But I promise it won't be anything too far from your reach."

Roxanna felt her body tense. Every fiber of her being told her this was dangerous. But the promise of what could be... The chance to have everything she wanted...

The excitement, the desire, the dream took over her young mind.

And before she could think twice, the words escaped her lips.

"Do it."

She had just sealed a pact — and she didn't even know the price.

Present day,

Your eyes widened, your heart pounding in your chest as Aslan's words echoed in yoor mind.

Back to your own time?

Was that really what he was saying? Was it possible?

You had never really considered this possibility. You had always assumed that, because you were pregnant, you would be trapped in this place, that the babies inside you were an anchor preventing any return. But now... He spoke as if it were simple, as if everything could be reversed with a snap of his fingers. And maybe it could.

"Are you serious?" Your voice came out shaky, little more than a whisper, filled with disbelief.

Aslan smiled, that feline smile that never fully revealed its intentions, and nodded slowly.

"Yes."

Your heart raced even faster. The chance — if it was even a chance — to go home. To your family. To your time. It was a dream that seemed increasingly distant as you adapted to this strange Era, this reality you never chose but that had somehow become yours.

But why now?

Why was he offering you this choice now, after everything you had been through? After so long? After he himself had sent you here without even asking if that was what you wanted?

Your eyes narrowed, and your voice was firm, thick with suspicion.

"Why?"

Aslan shrugged, as if the answer didn't matter, his smile widening even more.

"Because I think it's time for you to come home, (Y/N)." His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was something about it that sent a cold shiver down your spine. "You've spent too much time here. Your time is up."

Instead of feeling relief, joy, or hope, something else burned inside you.

Fury.

It took over your body before you could stop it, hot and uncontrollable, and before you could even think about the consequences, your hand came up and slapped Aslan across the face with a loud crack.

The impact stung your palm, but you didn't care. Your chest rose and fell heavily, your breathing ragged.

Aslan stood still for a moment, his head turned slightly to the side. Then, slowly, he turned back to face you.

And smiled.

A dangerous smile.

Aslan raised one of his hands and lightly touched his own cheek, where the red mark from your slap was beginning to appear. His dark eyes shone in an almost amused way, as if he found your reaction amusing.

"Well, that was an unexpected welcome." He murmured, his carefree tone contrasting with the intensity of his gaze.

You still felt your hand tingling, but you didn't regret what you had done. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, anger still boiling inside you.

"You have the nerve to show up here and simply tell me that my ‘time is up’ after bringing me here against my will?" Your voice shook, but not from fear — from indignation. "After making me live through all of this? Making me get attached to people, getting married? Making me get pregnant?! You have no right to do that!"

Aslan tilted his head slightly to the side, watching you as if studying your reaction. Then, he sighed.

"You've always been so full of spirit, haven't you?" He shook his head, a hint of amusement in his voice. "That's why I like you."

Your stomach churned in disgust.

"I don't give a fuck what you like." You spat the words out, your fists clenched at your sides. "I want to know what's really going on."

Aslan finally abandoned his relaxed posture and took a step closer. You forced yourself not to back away.

"Listen carefully, (Y/N), because I don’t like repeating things." His voice was lower now, more serious, and suddenly, the entire air in the room seemed heavy. "You came to this time for a purpose. Something that needed to be done. But now that purpose has been fulfilled."

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest.

"F-Fulfilled?" You repeated, the word sounding strange in your mouth.

Aslan smiled slowly.

"Yes. What had to happen, happened. You are no longer needed here."

The words hit you like a punch in the stomach.

You were no longer needed? As if your life was a simple object that he could discard as soon as he was done using it? As if everything you had lived here had meant nothing?

You felt an immense urge to punch him.

You gritted your teeth, blood roaring in your ears.

"What if I don’t want to go?" Your voice was low, but full of defiance.

Aslan smiled again, but this time, there was something dark in his expression.

"Oh, my sweet (Y/N)..." He whispered, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Who said you had a choice?"

The ground seemed to disappear beneath your feet, as if the world around you was disintegrating. With each breath, the air became heavier, harder to hold. You tried to stay upright, but the feeling of disorientation grew, your body starting to shake. Your eyes met Aslan's again, and this time, there was something different in his gaze — no longer just the calculated distance or the amusement of a manipulator. There was a touch of longing, as if he were looking at you with a sadness you didn't understand, something deep that was beyond your reach.

The chaos inside your mind intensified, thoughts tumbling over each other, conflicting feelings taking over your heart. How could he look at you like that, with a mixture of affection and... Farewell? Why all this? He was doing this to you, dragging you to a place where you no longer knew who you were, and now, he seemed to be saying goodbye for now. But why?

Before you could ask any other questions, a feeling of weakness took over your body, as if all of your energy had been drained. Your eyes began to close, your vision becoming blurry and hazy, while the weight of your own body seemed to become unbearable. Aslan’s words echoed in your mind like a distant whisper, even though he was there, standing in front of you, with the enigmatic expression as always.

"Don’t worry, (Y/N). We'll see each other again." He said, his words so soft that they seemed like a low, comforting chant. But what was comforting about all this? How could he say something like that with such certainty? "But don't worry, you won't be alone when you wake up."

Those words... You wanted to believe them, you wanted to feel that there was some truth to his promise, but the feeling of abandonment, of helplessness, was overwhelming you. Your vision grew increasingly blurred, as if the darkness itself was approaching, taking over your entire being. The last vestige of clarity in your mind disappeared, swallowed by a deep, cold abyss, and soon silence took over everything.

The last thing you felt was a strange sense of calm, as if, somehow, the darkness was a kind of refuge. And then, everything went black.

— lady l: I know it took a while to come out but my life has been a mess lately :( It hasn't been an easy start to the year but I'm here. We're entering a new phase of TLQ! Also, don't hate Roxanna! She's young (technically 16 if we are going really historical) and she doesn't know on what she's getting into. She'll come around, guys. 😉

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, it was longer than usual, but important. Forgive me for any mistakes and I'll see you soon! I love receiving feedback and comments! ❤️❤️

If you want to support or ask for something, my Ko-Fi/commissions are always open!

Bye for now!! ❤️

[lorialia]

⋆ sweet temptation ⋆

pairing: best friend!han jisung x fem!reader

genre: smut, minors dni.

summary: you and your best friend accidentally devour an entire box of sex chocolates while watching a pirated version of the movie ponyo. now you're left to deal with the consequences.

a/n: this came about after i submitted a similar thirst for @daydreams-after-dark 's birthday month event . . . so if you're seeing this, hi :) thanks for the indirect motivation to start a skz blog and post this. i hope you all enjoy ♡

warnings: dom!hanji, sub fem!reader, accidental use of sex chocolates/aphrodisiacs, dry humping, unprotected sex, very messy and wet, creampie, pet names(baby), possessive language, multiple orgasms, technically there's no verbal consent but they're both enthusiastic

"This is bullshit. I swear it is."

“What do you mean?" Jisung says, staring at you accusingly from across the couch. His wispy black hair falls in front of his round glasses, and his fingers reach up to brush it away so he can give you a halfhearted glare. "I put Ponyo in B-tier. That means it's good."

Your nose crinkles in pure disgust, absolute horror at the dingy laptop placed on your best friend’s ottoman. The screen glitches every once in a while, but you see the brightly colored tierlist clear as day. There’s Ponyo—one of your favorite Studio Ghibli movies of all time, a masterpiece of visual art and fairytale storytelling—in B-tier. Middle of the road. Average.

“It deserves better than just good!” You insist, convinced that he has the worst taste on planet Earth. “C’mon. At least put it up a tier.”

“Next to My Neighbor Totoro? Fuck no.”

“Fuck you!”

“Woah woah woah, language,” Jisung replies cheekily, and you grumble, tipping back to sink your head into the cushions of your best friend’s couch. If he even is your best friend after this anyways.

You and Jisung have been hanging out at his apartment for hours, chatting about basically anything and everything. It’s an especially exciting night; his roommate is out visiting family for the weekend, meaning the two of you have the whole place to yourselves.

“Don’t make a mess,” Minho had said through the phone. “I don’t want to clean up once I get back home.”

So far, you’ve had halfhearted success in baking cinnamon rolls, little-to-no success cooking dinner, and full success in ordering barbeque chicken. The kitchen had barely survived through it all, but aside from an occasional utensil on the floor it’s pretty clean.

Aside from your cooking ventures, you two have taken it upon yourselves to rank all the Studio Ghibli movies on a tierlist. Some of his takes surprise you, maybe frustrate you— but none of them fill you with such rage as seeing Ponyo in B-Tier.

“When was the last time you watched this movie?” You ask, almost demand. Jisung pretends to think for a moment; his soft lips pursing together in contemplation.

“Uhh… when I was twelve.”

“Oh for fuck's sake,” You reach over to his laptop and grab it, typing furiously to find a pirated URL for the movie. “We’re watching Ponyo tonight. No buts.”

“Fine,” Jisung says, extending the ‘e’. Out of the corner of your eye you spot him picking up the empty plastic containers of your dinner. He pouts, lips jutting out exaggeratedly when he finds the tins utterly empty. “Aww man, no more food. I’ll go see if there’s any leftovers in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” You idly reply, too busy trying to bypass the stupid ad pop-ups on his computer. You mash a couple of buttons, open and close a few tabs, and boom, you’re in.

Meanwhile, Jisung has gone and returned from the kitchen. In his hands he holds a random box of chocolates that he tosses into your waiting hands. “Found these in the back of the pantry. Probably Minho’s.”

You open the cardboard flap and dig your hand inside, pulling out a rectangle-shaped chocolate wrapped in pretty red tinfoil. You don’t care to read the name—the room is too dimly lit to see anyway—and rip open the package, finding two square chocolates waiting for you.

“Huh,” You comment, holding up the two chocolate pieces. “I’ve never seen chocolates that come in twos before.”

A hand snatches one of the chocolates away and you turn to see Jisung chewing. His adams apple bobs as he swallows. “Mmm, cherry. You should try it.”

You glance at the singular square held between your fingertips, and shrug before popping it in your mouth.

An hour later, you and Jisung are curled up together watching Ponyo. From glances and little remarks here and there, he seems to be enjoying it, and thank god he does. You couldn’t stand seeing Ponyo be misplaced any longer.

During a particularly captivating underwater scene, you reach for the box of chocolates—only to find the insides empty. You blink for a moment, tearing your eyes away from the screen, and realize you and Jisung have eaten them all.

“Aww,” Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, but you remove yourself from the pile of blankets to toss the box in the trash. Your best friend remains engrossed in the movie, only shifting to adjust his glasses.

You think to check the brand on the box before you throw it away. It would be nice to get again, after all. The chocolates tasted pretty good—

“Jisung.”

The serious tone of your voice jerks your best friend back into reality, and he hurries to pause the movie. His gaze flickers up to yours with a slight level of concern. “What’s up?”

“These chocolates…” You audibly gulp, and your mind swims from reading the label on the box. “I don’t think these are regular ones.”

“Then what are they?” Jisung crawls over from his side of the couch and leans over your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he speaks. “Weed?”

You point to the packaging. It’s sensually decorated, with elegant lettering and a good number of red hearts littering the front. Right in the center are two words: aphrodisiac chocolate.

Jisung’s eyes bulge wide open and he blinks several times. “Sex chocolate?!”

“Yeah,” You let out a breathless, winded chuckle. Your eyes are equally as wide as his. “How many did we eat?”

Over the next minute, you and Jisung rummage around the couch and collect as many wrappers as you can. With each find, you’re more and more flabbergasted—assuming you two had an equal amount, you can say that you probably had ten to twelve chocolates…each.

“Holy shit,” is the only thing he can say for the next minute. You check the back of the box and discover more lovely news: the recommended amount is one to three squares per person.

There’s silence for the next couple of minutes after that.

The two of you must look so stupid, crouching over copious candy wrappers, dumbfounded by your dual idiocy. What the fuck were you going to do?

Jisung attempts to answer that question in breaking the silence. “So essentially…we’re gonna get super horny.”

“Yeah,” You respond, wincing. “I’m kind of trying not to think about that right now.”

“Well- I mean- You- I- ugh,” Jisung rubs his temples sorely. For once he’s completely serious, no giggles, no jokes. It concerns you as much as it frightens you. “How long until it kicks in?”

“A few hours, it says.”

“Any way to reverse the effects?”

“We already ate the chocolates, Sungie. I don’t think we can get them out.”

“Fuck,” He stares at the empty container. “What are we gonna do then?”

You open your mouth to respond and find it dry. Suddenly you’re hyperaware that in an undisclosed amount of time, both you and your best friend will be incredibly horny. In an apartment together, with no distractions. Just you and him.

You’re tempted to run for the hills. Grab your bag and race home to deal with it all on your own, rather than face this volatile situation and the can of worms that is your undeniable attraction to a man you swore never to date. It feels like the better situation for a split second; enough for you to place one foot on the ground in an effort to stand up from the couch.

Jisung’s head whips up immediately, and the panicked, almost desperate flash in his eyes freezes you in place. It’s almost a plea, a look that stirs something deep in your gut: Please. Don’t go.

You sit back down.

“So…wanna watch the rest of Ponyo?”

By the end of the movie, Jisung moves Ponyo up to A-tier. Normally you’d gloat in his face and criticize his judgmental movie taste—but you can’t seem to get the thought of the chocolates out of your head. It doesn’t help that he's uncomfortably close, his hoodie brushing up against your shoulder with every breath.

He doesn’t say anything as he shuts the laptop, doesn’t look at you as he leans back on the couch. His eyes are distant. Unfocused, dazed like you’ve only seen when he’s dead drunk.

You only need to wonder why for a moment before you notice just how burning hot you are.

Your shirt tightly sticks to you like a vice, and your head fogs like smoke filling the air. The thick pulse in your chest can’t seem to subside, and you feel your skin heat up more with every second that passes.

One sensation rushes in even stronger, an ache from your lower half. Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily, feeling for some sort of relief, any sort of relief. God, you’ve never wanted a dick more in your entire life.

And your best friend happens to be sitting right across from you with one.

Shit. No. You can’t think that way about him; you shouldn’t look. He’s your best friend—but your gaze moves on its own and hones in on the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

You glance upwards. Jisung’s cheeks are flushed. A bead of sweat trails down his forehead. He can’t seem to stop swallowing. His pretty dark eyes are not trained on yours but on the way your thighs press against each other for friction. He stares as if he’s devouring you whole.

“Jisung?” You say softly, your voice almost hoarse in your throat. There is no need to whisper. It’s just you and him, in his apartment together, alone.

“…Yeah?”

“Are you feeling it too?”

Jisung still can’t seem to look you in the eyes. He nods, slowly.

You crawl closer.

“Fuck,” He sputters out breathlessly. His hand reaches up to shakily adjust his glasses. Sweat seems to drip down the side of his face and off his chin. He wipes it away.

You inch closer, and with every shuffle you hear Jisung’s breath grow more ragged. His hands move all over himself— adjusting the gray sweatpants you want to ruin so badly, make a mess all over and cum on, brushing away the same strand of hair over and over. He still can’t seem to look at you.

Finally, you arrive right in front of him. You sit with your legs spread wide, your shorts doing little to cover up the arousal starting to drip down your thigh. Your knees, planted on the couch cushion, brush against his legs. His breath stops.

You reach up and gently grab ahold of his chin. Slowly, you turn his head so he comes face to face with your equally flushed face.

“Oh my god.”

In an instant, Jisung’s lips press against yours; he practically climbs on top of you, pinning you down into the furniture. His arms reach and wrap around whatever he can as he drinks from the taste of your lips in a dizzying rhythm. It’s insistent, messy, desperate. Your mouths move in a tangled dance, hoping each to swallow the other whole.

His fingers find the bottom hem of your shirt and hook underneath it to tug it up. You oblige and revel in each and every touch you can get.

Your shirt is shoved above your breasts, and Jisung doesn't bother to unclasp your bra—opting to move the fabric aside instead. He breaks the kiss to ogle at your bare chest. His eyes are lidded and you swear that his pupils are heart-shaped, and he sighs, almost dreamily. Like he's seen a piece of heaven.

“God, you're fucking beautiful,” He mutters from above you. “I'm sorry, I just can't....”

His words send a rush of heat straight to your core, and you whine. Next thing you know, he has his hands on your knees and spreads your legs apart so he can slot himself between them.

The friction of his pants against your clothed clit makes you keen—usually you aren't so sensitive, if not for those chocolates. Every sensation seems to be heightened.

"Sungie~" You whimper as Jisung rocks his hips against yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. He leans down to capture your lips in his once more, hungry for the hints of chocolate he tastes.

Everything is sloppy and coordinated; he grinds into you like a bunny in heat, groaning at every bit of friction between his gray sweatpants and your cotton shorts. It's hot and stuffy, but you've never felt so good in your life.

"Feel so good, shit-" Jisung mumbles between messy kisses. His glasses are fogged and hanging half off his nose, but he couldn't care less. "Wanna fuck you so badly- you want that? Want me to fuck you- ah, god~ like you deserve?"

Jisung shoves his head down into your chest, burying himself between your two mounds as he presses up on you from below. He kisses your skin and moves slightly to suckle on your right nipple, making you keen. His soft boba eyes peek out to look up at you, dazed and sick with sticky desire.

Your cunt clenches around nothing, throbs under the way Jisung's clothed cock hits your clit repeatedly. You want him to fuck you so bad, need your best friend's dick to split you open.

"Fuck me please," You beg, your voice trembling and thoughts hazy with lust. You've never begged for a man before, but Jisung is simply different in every way. "Please, Jisung, Sungie, please-"

He audibly groans, as if the sound of your voice gets him any closer to heaven. He wrenches himself away from your cunt to slip down his pants just enough for his thick, veiny cock to slip out. Meanwhile, you can't resist slipping your hand under the waistband of your shorts, to your needy wet cunt. You rub your clit with two of your fingers, whining softly at the stimulation of your swollen bud.

Suddenly, Jisung's hands wrap around the hem of your shorts and panties—he tugs them down all at once, exposing your sobbing pussy to his greedy view. You look up and his eyes are hungry, lidded and clouded with want, zeroed in on your cunt. You think he might be drooling.

Jisung hurries to press his cock against your wetness. He's shaky, almost trembling as he guides his mushroom tip through your folds, his breath coming out in stutters.

Even with just the tip, it's big. You feel like you're split open, and every inch of his cock entering your pussy sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. It doesn't even hurt with how wet it is, and he slides in like warm butter. He practically collapses onto you as soon as he bottoms out, his head buried in your neck.

His cock twitches inside you, and you realize through the haze that Jisung isn't moving. He's whining softly, breathlessly, but his hips do little more than tremble.

"Jisung-"

"Don't," He shushes you. His voice is raspy and desperate, and he mouths at your neck between words. "I-I'm trying not to cum."

You whine, wanting any sort of friction—but Jisung doesn't budge. Then you squirm a little, just to feel it a little more, and both of you let out audible moans. He grabs your hips roughly to hold you in place.

"F-fuck-" He swears, and there's a growl in the back of his throat. "Are you trying to get me to cum inside?"

The idea of his cum filling you up sends a rush through your bones. You inadvertently clench around him, and the grip on your hips becomes so strong it might bruise.

"Y-you want it that bad? Fine then. Fucking take it."

Jisung starts a relentless pace; he groans into your neck and holds your hips down so you take every inch of him with every thrust. His tip brushes up against your cervix sweetly, and you keen, your hands tangling into his black hair.

"You're so wet baby-" He mutters, stamping in a word between rough thrusts. "So. Fucking. Tight. God, bet no one has made you feel this good, huh? Say it."

You can barely find the words, letting punched-out moans every time his cock kisses your cervix. "Y-you're the only one, Ji!"

"That's it," He says, his pace speeding up impossibly faster. He's hardly going in a pattern, just bunny fucking into you like there's no tomorrow. "This pussy belongs to me, doesn't it? All mine~"

Jisung changes his grasp; he gets a hold of your thighs and spreads them so he can fuck you deeper. It's a welcome change—and you remove one hand from his hair to clamp over your mouth, your moans becoming unabashedly noisy. Your eyes squeeze shut and roll back behind your eyelids. "O-oh Jisung, that feels good-"

"Baby, baby please, I gotta cum- gonna cum inside, want that? You want that?" He says, and his hand shakily moves to rub his palm against your clit.

You cry out, about to tip over the edge. You want it more than you've ever wanted anything in your life. "P-please!"

Jisung groans loudly, not bothering to muffle the noise as he cums inside. You cum at the same time, whimpering into his tangled-up hair. His hips stutter but they don't halt; he fucks his cum into you lazily. You whimper at the sensation of his warm cream filling your insides. It's messy and deliciously wet.

"Jisung," You mumble out, still feeling a burning ache. You're addicted to the pull of his cock inside your walls. "I- I want-"

He interrupts you with a groan; then his hips begin to pound into you once more, moaning into the skin of your neck. He simply can't stop, even when you let out a high-pitched cry.

"I'm sorry baby- just had to. Your pussy is sucking me in-" Jisung grunts. His voice is nearly drowned out by the wet squelch of every thrust into your creamy cunt. "Just one more, one more, that's it~"

You feel like you're being folded in half from the way he presses you down, your thighs moving to rest on his shoulders. He ruts into you with reckless abandon, and his hands find themselves digging into the couch on either side of your head.

Jisung lifts his head up so it's right above yours, and you see him for the first time in what feels like ages. His glasses are long gone, and his lips are slightly ajar as he groans senselessly with every thrust. The pinkness of his round cheeks and the lidded pleasure in his eyes matches yours; he leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss.

You moan into his mouth sweetly, and he hums in delight. There's no rhythm to the way he kisses you and fucks you—just pleasure-driven madness, desperation to feel you in every way.

"Mine," He mumbles, almost to himself as he pounds into you desperately. "Gonna cum in you again, fill you up~ my baby, all mine-"

You clench despite the tired ache in your thighs. You want him to cum in you over and over, spill his semen and let him fuck it into you again. You want him completely, irrevocably.

It's this thought that sends you over the edge for a second time; you wail, unable to make out any words as a wave of pleasure washes over you. Jisung messily kisses you throughout, muffling the sounds that escape your lips with his own.

He thrusts a few more times, groaning senselessly into your mouth before finally cumming again. Another warm sensation floods your insides and you sigh in satisfaction.

Jisung crumples onto your body and simply lays limp on top of you. Neither of you can bring yourselves to move.

"Best sex ever." He croaks out with a hoarse voice, and you laugh tiredly.

The next morning, you wake up on the couch. Jisung is laying next to you, his body tangled with yours. He stirs as you shuffle and pull yourself up from the cushions.

"Morning," You whisper, and he responds with a soft hum. His hair is adorably chaotic and worsens as he runs a hand through it. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," He says, and sits up with a groan of pain. "God, my joints. I feel like I blew out my back."

You notice a similar soreness in your thighs, but you tease him regardless. "You old man."

"Shut up," Jisung replies with no real malice. He looks down at you with surprising affection, his boba eyes twinkling with joy. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You say, an amused breath leaving your lips.

"Nothing," He grins cheekily. "Just that I got to have sex with my best friend who I've liked for an entire year."

You blink in shock, and Jisung giggles. "What? You're surprised?"

"No, I mean- yeah," You find yourself stumbling over your words, a pink blush appearing on your cheeks. "I mean, we did fuck yesterday, I just didn't expect you to say it so...bluntly."

"Well I did," Jisung lowers his voice to a soft whisper. He leans in close so his lips nearly brush against yours. "I like you."

"I like you too," You reply bashfully, and you can't resist kissing him. It's slow and saccharine sweet, nothing like the desperate messes you were yesterday. He sighs like a love-struck teenager as you pull away.

"Minho's gonna kill us," He mumbles dreamily. You burst out laughing.

[zazaiafe2]

How to calm the critical mind and the ego to make shifting easier (and feel better mentally at the same time)

1) The basic mistake about the ego

Many think they need to "kill the ego" or "erase the mind" to shift.

This is wrong; you actually need to calm and soothe it .

The ego is a normal brain function, its job is to:

- Ensure your internal coherence

- Avoid taking radical risks

- Keep you in the known

-> Fighting it only makes it stronger.

2)Goal: Reduce the hyperactivity of the ego , not destroy it.

The idea is to:

- Calm its hypervigilance

- Offer it safe anchor points

- Shift attention rather than suppress it.

I invite you to listen to Wim Hoff's guided breathing It can help create a gentle dissociation that detaches the ego

3) Why does the ego block shifting?

Shifting often relies on:

- Altered states of consciousness (ASC)

- Mental fluidity

- The ability to accept direct experience

- The broadening of perception and identity

The critical ego analyzes everything:

"Is this working? Am I succeeding? Am I feeling enough?"

-> The more you analyze, the more you stay in "vigilance mode",

-> The less you shift, as you stay identified with your CR self, the one who analyzes and checks the CR environment.

4) Concrete strategies to calm the critical mind

1️⃣ Accept the idea that you can’t control everything.

- Co-creation with the environment, not absolute control over thoughts or emotions.

2️⃣ Take regular breaks.

- Stop the overpressure; you are not taking an exam.

3️⃣ Practice observation meditation.

- Observe your thoughts without judging them. They will pass.

4️⃣ Use micro-awakenings (WBTB), the hypnagogic state or the void stage (I have a blog about it).

-> Periods of low cortical activity = fertile ground.

You can listen to guided meditations to help you put distance between yourself and your thoughts.

5) Techniques to divert attention

5️⃣ Gentle and unforced visualization

- Play with mental images without trying to "visualize perfectly".

6️⃣ Internal roleplay.

- Sometimes imagining already being your "shifted self" relaxes the critical mind.

7️⃣ Controlled distractions

- Watch a gentle show, read a simple book before falling asleep.

You can also do all this while listening to brown or white noise and create a sensory-calming environment.

6) Emotional work: your relationship to your emotions matters more than the emotions themselves

✅ Sadness can be helpful (emotion with low agitation impact).

✅ Euphoria or excessive excitement can sometimes block you.

The important thing is not "positive or negative emotion" but:

-> The level of mental agitation associated with this emotion, and also your relationship to it.

The emotional state of those who shift on command at the time they shift

7) The paradoxical approach with the ego

Collaborate with your ego:

- Reassure it ("We won't lose anything.")

- Involve it ("Just observe, you have nothing to manage.")

- Soothe it ("Thank you for your job, now let's try something else.")

-> Rejecting the ego tends to strengthen it. Recognizing it relaxes it.

For highly anxious people with a lot of anxiety and thought I really advice this meditation or any subliminal that can help you.

8) Soft vigilance state vs hypervigilance

Seek fluid vigilance states:

- Relaxed wakefulness

- Hypnagogia

- Floating before sleep

- Light Modified States of Consciousness (MSC)

- Micro awakening

Avoid hyper-mental surveillance of "I MUST succeed now"

9) For "overthinkers" profiles

Highly analytical or anxious people can:

Provide their mind with simple but absorbing tasks (music, light visual patterns, calm mantras, coloring, reading, journaling).

Practice permissive self-hypnosis:

"I will just float and see what comes"

The key is to try to approach it with less pressure.

Personally, I like to create playlists related to my DR; it allows you to listen to them when you go to shift.

In summary:

- Observe without controlling

- Accept the current emotional state

- Create internal safety and inner acceptance.

- Divert attention from "over-control"

- Use natural windows of MSC (sleep, hypnagogia, nocturnal awakenings)

Bonus

We know that:

The Default Mode Network (DMN) is hyperactive when we overanalyze.

MSC (Modified States of Consciousness) allow to temporarily deactivate this network.

The more the mental ego decreases its critical activity, the more consciousness expansion states become accessible.

Hence the value of everything said here.

[roseykat]

KINKTOBER DAY 14

TITLE: Some things are better left unknown

PAIRINGS: Bang Chan x Felix x reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: a threesome with Chanlix where you’re yet to discover a very sobering truth about the pair of them.

TAGS: explicit language, threesome, oral sex (f!reader receiving), porn with plot, use of the name 'baby girl' and 'angel', swearing, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex but protected anal sex, double penetration, big dick!Chan agenda, praise, slight body worship if you squint, kissing/making out.

A/N: Aussie line fucks hard, bye. (If there are mistakes, I will fix them. Currently running on v low sleep)

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @mal-lunar-28 @luneskies @queenmea604 @kibs-and-bits @kbitties @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung

-

Milk, nori, rice, raw tuna, coffee, yoghurt, bread, and eggs. 

This was all Chan sent you to the supermarket for. All of which could have been easily picked up from the convenience store down the road. Maybe minus the raw tuna which has to be high grade since Chan wanted to make an attempt at onigiri for the first time. However, you would’ve saved an entire trip to the busy supermarket.

Not to mention, grocery shopping sucks in general. At least that is when you’re on your own. In your apartment that you share with your good friends Chan and Felix, two people are responsible for the shopping per week which rotates each time. 

If you’re with Felix, sometimes you both tend to muck around. Not to mention forgetting almost a quarter of things on the shopping list which ends in a stern lecture from Chan. On that matter, if you’re with Chan, it’s an in-and-out task at the store in less than ten minutes. 

Efficient and practically timeless.

Even though it’s no trivial matter, you manage to get through the pointless shopping before heading home to the apartment. These could’ve been picked up at the convenience store, you think to yourself again. A sigh leaves your lips as you unlock the door, bumping it open further with your hip as you slide your shoes off. 

“I’m back. Remind me to buy an umbrella next time-”

Your body freezes on the spot. The bag of items falls from your possession, collapsing onto the floor. Something inside it broke but it’s nowhere near enough a distraction for what is in front of your eyes. 

Maybe you need your vision checked because if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, then you wouldn’t have just seen Chan and a topless Felix who are both making out. The two of them sat on the edge of the bed, still lip-locked until they caught onto your presence.  

For the few seconds you stood there, rooted to the ground, felt the absolute longest.

Neither of them was as internally panicked as you when they noticed you standing there. Nor did they have hundreds of questions zapping around their brains in the span of a few seconds. It was like your entire vocabulary had turned to dust and were blown away because there were no words to describe what the hell was happening. 

Maybe it was a dream. 

“T-That was quick,” Chan stammers with an awkward chuckle, breaking away from Felix, almost pretending like nothing just happened. 

Felix looked like a complete mess. Dark brown hair mangled - clearly from Chan either running his fingers through it or tugging it - the air gets stuck in your throat with those two theories in mind, painting very interesting visuals and an odd sensation in your stomach. 

Chan looked equally dishevelled. There’s a dark red splotch peeking above his collarbone that you had no trouble guessing how it got there. On top of that, his pants were already half undone, and his lips were bitten red and wet, and they both looked so…so…

“What…the fuck…” you manage to speak once your mind has cleared the only one per cent of its capacity to grasp the circumstances.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Felix quickly says as he stands up from Chan’s lap and walks over to you.

It was useless for him to try to take advantage of your shell-shocked state because once your surprise had completely thawed out, your words started coming back to you. 

“Oh my god, what am I even doing?” You ask, clamping your hands over your eyes, ready to head right back out of the apartment. “I’m heading out.”

“Wait!” Chan calls out, arm outstretched towards your direction. “You don’t…you don’t have to go. If you want, you can maybe join us. If…if you like.”

Join them? Blindsided by those words, there was no trouble for the difficulty you had in trying to figure out if you heard right or just imagined what Chan said. Why would he ask you that question? But more importantly, why were they hooking up in the first place? It was evident that there had been something going on between Felix and Chan - unless this was just a new one-time thing. 

However, even if it wasn’t, you had been left out of the secret. Nonetheless, you quickly came to your senses. Whether they hook up or not is none of your business. 

“J-Join you?” You stammer. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chan emphasises. “It’d be rude to not let you in on the fun.” 

You definitely weren’t hearing things, and this wasn’t a dream. 

At first, you can’t understand why you’re even considering their request, but there is one piece of information that sprung to mind and that’s your sex life. It hasn’t been entirely sex-filled as you’d like it to be, not to mention your slight lack of experience with threesomes wasn’t vast - but it also wasn’t limited either, especially after that encounter you once had with two of their friends Changbin and Hyunjin on a separate occasion. Although, they didn’t need to know that at all. 

That being said, this takes the cake. You can’t even comprehend what Chan or Felix are like in bed but, the opportunity seemed too ridiculously hot to pass up. 

“You...you want me to-“

“Like Channie said, if you want,” Lix assures you, interrupting your babbling. 

You aren’t somewhat surprised that Felix would ever want a threesome. He’s had sexual partners here and there in the past, multiple ones at a time. However, Chan never struck you as the type to have sex with more than one person. Even after a year of living with him and getting to know him, he’s still pretty private and exclusive. 

With the matter at hand and the more you think about the prospect in front of you, you aren’t opposed to the idea. So with your brain taking full control of your body, you hesitantly step over the discarded groceries lying on the ground. This is happening. Felix picks up on the right cue and extends his hand out to you as you take it gently. 

He guides you over to the edge of the bed where Chan is still sitting, but as you’re led over, he rises to his feet. There were a few seconds where you’re a little bit bewildered by what’s going on, but when you look into Chan’s dark eyes and as he takes your free hand, you become more centred.

Before you know it, he leans down to kiss you and kisses you good. You’ve never felt anything like it and as Felix releases your hand and sneaks behind your body, your mind starts turning into jelly. He gently swipes your hair to the other side of your shoulder while his other hand freely roams around your waist, underneath your shirt to feel the heat of your skin. His mouth places chaste kisses from your shoulder up to your neck. 

It feels so heavenly to be sandwiched between them; Felix kissing, biting softly over your skin while Chan continues to explore your mouth. It was impossible to think that just a few minutes ago, you were at the grocery store and now a complete world shift just seems to be occurring within that time frame. 

Chan breaks away from you for a second, kissing you tenderly one last time before sitting back down on the bed and moving up to the headboard. God this is really happening. You’re too deep in it now to not follow him like a lost, yet obedient puppy. You can see that he’s hard and want to touch him so badly but-

“Sit between me and face towards Felix,” he instructs before you can even reach for him. 

Your cheeks burn. While you have no idea what’s entirely in store, your body is getting excited and very obviously, so is Felix. He crawls over to you once you’re snug in between Chan’s legs before he tugs your shirt up from the hem and tosses it aside. Then, he finds your lips and kisses you until you have to silently beg and chase him for it.

Squirming in place, you feel hot and subjugated by Chan sitting behind you - snaking and trailing his hands around your now half-bare body, and Felix in front of him, who’s now gone on to give his supposed man some attention too.

He’s up on his knees with his body so close to you that you can feel the heat from him. Chan tilts his head up from resting on your shoulder and lets Felix take what he wants. The slick wet sounds of them both kissing along with the tiny moans you can feel in your ear, makes you shiver all over. You’re only still comprehending this all, that this is still actually happening. 

“So needy,” Chan says as he breaks away from him, inches away from his face when Felix hears and feels you unbuckling his belt. He straightens back up and consumes how flustered you are, observing the way you blink up at him pleadingly, displaying how badly you want it now. 

Felix smirks, gently grabbing your face with one hand and lowering down just enough to kiss you senseless again. But he cannot stray away from his other plans so frees himself from your lips to help slide your pants off down and discards them to the side. 

Immediately, you can see where this is going. 

“Aw, look how bad you want it,” Felix comments, swiping his thumb over the damp spot of your underwear with enough pressure for you to muffle a whine by biting down on your lip. You do want it bad and already seem to be losing a fight to the pleasure Felix is barely giving you. 

“Don’t tease her too much,” Chan cautions. 

Felix doesn’t seem to hear the warning for him as he helps you shimmy your underwear down. From there, Chan takes over. He hooks both of his legs over yours and separates them to not just expose you for Felix but to hold you down for what’s about to unfold. 

Heat accelerates through your cheeks as you feel embarrassed. At this point, your brain hasn’t caught up with the fact that you never show this much skin, let alone any skin in front of either of them. But that was going to be an afterthought for you when Felix distracts your mind by gently prying your legs open from your bent knees.

Pathetic whimpers slip past your lips as Felix lies down on his stomach, his face inches away from your pussy while he pets and glides his two fingers in between your folds. 

Your head shoots back onto Chan’s shoulder, very narrowly missing his face, “f-fuck…oh my god.”

Without warning, you feel the tip of Felix’s tongue lap a few times over your clit. If it weren’t for Chan acting as a human restraint to hold you down, there would’ve been a solid chance of you lurching forward. His arms are still wrapped around your abdomen, preventing you from moving forward so that you can take what Felix is giving you. 

It’s cruel, but Chan thinks it’s necessary for you to feel everything. Which you do when your hands grip each of Chan’s thighs, nearly squashing him backwards between you and the wall. 

“How does it feel?” he asks you. 

“F-Felix, mmm-” you breathe out his name, unable to answer properly and feel some vibrations from Chan’s chest to suggest that he was chuckling. Mainly at the fact that you weren’t able to directly answer his question. 

But it’s not long until the room quickly fills with your whimpers and moans mingled with the beautiful wet sounds as Felix keeps eating out your pussy. Tingly sensations spread like wildfire throughout every cell in your body from his mouth. It’s gradually becoming impracticable to keep up with his tongue. Not that you’ve ever imagined it before, but he does give good oral, good enough to put your breathing pace out of whack when he sucks on your clit. 

He’s not afraid of enjoying himself either. You can hear and feel his moans reverberate throughout your lower half. It even adds to the sensation of bliss that’s forming a knot in the pit of your stomach. So even though you don’t know, this is as good for Felix as it is for you. To him, it’s like going to heaven. 

What you also didn’t seem to know was when Chan unclasped your bra from behind your back and placed it to the side. His hands went from just holding you to now groping and playing with your tits as your body continued to melt into Felix’s mouth. 

“You’re loud aren’t you?” Chan whispers in your ear, rolling both of your nipples in between his thumbs and fingers to make you mewl and squirm. The different methods of pleasure send interesting messages to your brain that only make that crest of ecstasy build higher. 

You can only mewl until coherent words appear in his brain and out through his mouth, “s-sorry.”

Felix’s head game is so ridiculously mind-blowing that it makes you forget what language you speak.

Chan chuckles, purring into your ear, “don’t be sorry. You just can’t help it can you?” 

His hand circles up to your jaw, tilting it towards his face. He confirms in his mind how much of a mess you are. Cheeks stained pink with a fucked up expression that reads ‘I need more’, to which Chan reaches down and kisses you, sloppy and lazy. 

The velvety feel of your mouth when you open up more is slick with warmth. It’s starting to become more obvious how close you are when you start moaning repeatedly into Chan’s mouth. 

“I’m going to fuck you after this,” he breaks away, just inches from his lips again. 

You never would’ve guessed that Chan was even capable of forming such a dirty sentence. Then again, you never would’ve guessed that you would ever be in the position that you’re in now - having a threesome with your two housemates. 

“I’m…you’re gonna make me cum,” you sob, turning your head towards Chan on his shoulder, almost as if you were trying to escape the expansion of euphoria. He couldn’t help but kiss your forehead, waiting for you to brace for that wave. 

“Yeah?” Chan rouses. “Want to cum for us baby girl?”

You nod, too helpless to form an answer when you’re on the cusp of a forceful orgasm. He underestimated the strength he needed to hold you down, especially when you’re about to cum. So just when he needed to add more force, your body stiffens. Your legs so desperately crave to clamp around Felix’s head to help triage the pleasure, but it’s no use when Chan has you completely locked in. 

Your eyelids flutter, head pressing back further into Chan’s shoulder, “yes! I’m cumming!” 

With ragged, heavy breathing, the all-consuming pleasure takes you by the throat as the pleasure surges without control. Even though you’re being held down, it doesn’t stop your body from quivering. It lasts for what feels like an entire minute – one of the best orgasms you think you’ve ever experienced. 

Felix’s tongue slows down to a snail's pace, licking a few final stripes before kissing his way up your body, from your clit, abdomen, and then up to the base of your throat. His chin glistens as he adorns a smug smile. 

“Fuck…” you sigh out defeatedly, the aftermath of experiencing a volume of pleasure was starting to take its toll. “Oh my god.”

Chan kisses the side of your head, “sound so beautiful when you cum. Lix, switch with me so I can fuck her, yeah?”

“Wait-“ you pause, trying to reorient yourself as you hold onto Chan’s forearm for support. “I wanna ride you.” 

Felix looks down at you, “you sure angel? Channie isn’t exactly small.” 

From that statement alone, it was obvious to you that Felix was speaking from experience, a strong indication that they had in fact mucked around at least once in the past if not multiple times. But it didn’t matter if Chan or Felix for that matter was packing twelve inches, you needed to have something inside you to tame that need of feeling full. 

“I want to ride you-“ you nod to Chan – “but I want you to fuck me at the same time-“ you indicate towards Felix.

Neither of them expected you to be into that. Then again, they didn’t necessarily expect you to join them in bed either so anything was a surprise to them at this point. Chan and Felix can’t deny how insanely hot it is to hear you not only ask for them to do something but specifically ask you to do that. 

“Are you sure baby?” Chan has to ask you for assurance. 

“I can…I can take both of you.”  

Still stunned at your answer, Felix ushers to Chan, “you heard her.” 

He cannot lie and say that he’s not excited, because he is – they both are. So while Felix goes into the bedside table for a condom and lube, you move yourself off of Chan, turn around and start unbuckling his belt and helping him take his jeans off, almost like you’re in a rush. The imprint of his hard dick is enough to make your mouth water, and as Felix said, Chan definitely isn’t small. 

“Easy, I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, reorienting himself on the bed so that his head is on the pillow.  

Felix returns with the items he needs to help prep you, taking it as a sign to straddle over Chan’s legs and slowly tug his black boxers down. His cock springs onto his abdomen, the dark pink tip reaching just under his belly button. He had to be at least eight inches. Maybe just under, just.

“Ready angel?” Felix asks, kneeling behind you as you straddle Chan. The position would allow you to not only ride Chan but to take Felix from behind too, a dream so delicious that you can’t help but wonder how it was still all possible. 

“Yes,” you mutter. 

“Okay then,” he replies. 

Chan then holds the base of his cock steady for you, watching you slowly take those eight inches. The tip of his dick gently slots into your pussy, taking your time with sinking down. The warm heat engulfs his length, already sending shockwaves throughout his lower half. 

“That’s it, baby,” Chan says encouragingly, his fingertips delicately massaging over the skin of your things. “Good girl.”

You bite down on your bottom lip at the extraordinary stretch. In the meantime, Felix squirts a dollop of the lube onto his fingers to warm it up a bit before applying it to your hole.

He thumbs over it, sending shivers up your spine. It’s vital to him to make sure that you’re prepped well for him to fuck your ass. So he starts small by slowly inserting the tip of his finger, before gradually using slow yet long strokes, enough to make your head loll back. 

Felix has to express in awe when he sees the result of your efforts to fully envelope Chan’s length, “look at that. You took all of him, angel.” 

You know very well that you have because you can feel him in places that other men in your past haven’t reached. The stretch still sings a bit but it could easily be confused with the gorgeous satisfaction of Chan filling you right out. 

“So…big,” you strain out, scratching your nails down Chan’s abdomen, almost like a cat, just not as painful. 

Meanwhile, as Felix has slowly been stretching your hole out with his fingers, he uses his teeth and his free hand to peel the foil back of the condom packet. He had already freed himself from his jeans when he went to reach for the lube beside the bed so was hard and ready to roll the condom down his cock.   

“M’ready Lix,” you say to him, unable to see the smile you brought to his face from how eager you are. 

“I know baby, just one second,” he replies before aligning his cock with your hole. 

Very carefully and slowly, he starts pushing his tip in. Your eyes flutter shut, steadying your breathing in the process in preparation to take all of him as well. Chan rubs up and down your arm, distracting you from the temporary sting. With the lube doing its job, Felix can continue to push in at a leisurely pace right until he has the majority of his cock wrapped up by you. 

“Doing so well Y/N,” Chan says reassuringly. “Just stay like this for a bit until you’re ready to move yeah?” 

You nod, allowing your body and muscles to relax and ease into the pleasure that’s starting to fade out the burn. It’s difficult to comprehend a fuller feeling than this; to have two cocks stuffed in you to the hilt, and after a few moments of getting used to it, you slowly start to move. 

“Mmm, yes fuck,” you sigh with satisfaction, using your hands on Chan’s abdomen to steady your body as you being to move your hips. “You both…feel so fucking good inside me.”

Your words were difficult for Felix to not listen to who was trying to ward off from thrusting for a little bit until you were comfortable with him starting to fuck you. It wasn’t until your movements became a bit quicker that he began to catch up to your pace. Very quickly did the room turn into a space brimming with moans, wet sounds, and the sound of skin slapping. It was plenty to add to the intense sensation you were hurtling towards.  

Chan’s eyes are fixated on watching your pussy swallow his cock with every long stroke you take on him, “oh my god.”

With his tank top still on, Chan lifts it by the hem and holds onto it with his teeth. It wasn’t just to make sure that your hands weren’t going to be slipping on him as you use his abdomen to support yourself when you rock down, but it was also to restrict a whole bunch of moans that were about to rip through his chest. But even that couldn’t put a lid on the groans and growls rumbling from him. 

“Taking us both so well angel,” Felix says exasperatedly in your ear. 

His deep yet velvety voice has you leaning back slightly so that half of your back is pressed against his chest. With the help of you turning your head towards his face, Felix’s mouth crashes onto yours, almost tasting the remnants of yourself from before. He kisses you passionately, moaning into your mouth like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. 

“Fucking perfect,” he growls, diverging from your mouth to dive into your neck to suck a few hickies in and groping your tits from behind. “Can’t get enough of you dammit.” 

You sob out as he pinches your nipples, but also when Chan reaches down to your pussy, finds your clit and begins to rub in perfect motions, “god – fuck, I can’t…s’too much!” 

Their cocks hit spots so phenomenally that each time they stroke over them, your holes involuntarily clench around them. Not to mention the total stimulation they were feeding you. 

Felix’s hips haven’t faltered since they started pumping forward into your ass. The upward curvature of his cock seemed to be scratching the part of your brain that is responsible for making your eyes roll back. Chan’s dick on the other hand had you shaking. The length and girth were sickeningly satisfying. 

“Not gonna last,” you whine, still keeping up the same pace when you rock down on Chan and feel Felix continue to thrust in and out. “So close…” 

The hem of Chan’s shirt is long gone from his mouth, already given up on trying to suppress whatever was going to come out, “gonna cum for us again, huh? Such a good girl, taking us both at the same time.” 

Chan couldn’t lie either, but he was close a long time ago, probably the second you decided that you wanted to ride him. Felix happened to be on the same page. He couldn’t get over this entire situation, finding it so fucking hot that even just a dream of it would be a blessing. 

Words start to slip away from your brain once more. Aside from your orgasm swimming towards an astronomical high, you try to cling to that amazing feeling before it eventually disappears. But all good things come to an end. Your nails dig into Chan’s thighs while Felix has one arm barred just under your chest as the other hand doesn’t let up on your nipple. It throws your pace off balance and staggers your breathing when you start reaching that very pinnacle of euphoria. 

“Yes! Fuck, I’m cumming!” You scream out. 

Your thighs clamp around the frame of Chan’s lower half, shaking and shivering in place as the pleasure reaches its apex. Felix didn’t let up on his pace, fucking you all through your orgasm as Chan replaces your motions by fucking upwards and into you. Both of your holes spasm and contract around their dicks, enough to actually make them cum by the time you’ve reached the height of your orgasm. 

“I’m gonna cum, holy fuck, s’too good,” Felix’s head rests on your back, watching his cock disappear in and out of you before he starts to bust inside of the condom. His fingernails brutally dig into your hips when he cums. 

Your moans easily fill up the room once more now that you have no choice but to succumb to the euphoria when your orgasm hits its hardest. Chan’s head tips back further into the pillow, eyes screwed tight shut as he’s hit with a tsunami of pleasure. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he exclaims loudly, his chest heaving up and down as he spills inside of you. He’s lucky that he did because as the pleasure reached a point where it was too much for you to bear, you slowly lean forward towards Chan, their cocks sliding out of you in the process. 

On each exhale your body shudders, like the surges of aftershocks while the pleasure slowly plateaus. From this angle, Felix can still see you contracting, watching Chan’s cum leak from your pussy. If he wasn’t so fucked out, he would’ve had the energy to eat you out again. 

In saying that, he is the first to recover and come to his senses a bit faster than either you or Chan. He takes the condom off, ties it, and discards it in the rubbish bin in the corner of the room before putting his boxers back on. Meanwhile, you’re still panting trying to catch your breath, resting on top of Chan’s body, you feel his hand run soothingly up and down your spine. 

“Such a good girl for us,” he says caringly. “Felt so good.”

Felix sits beside you both at the top of the bed. He cards a gentle hand through your hair, observing your distant expression, “you there baby?” 

You blink up at him and nod, your brain still trying to process that sort of orgasm. 

“When you’re ready, we’ll get you cleaned up yeah?” He smiles softly down at you. 

As the minutes ticked by, Felix lent you a helping hand to stand up when you were ready. Even though you were wobbly on your feet, he still guided you to the bathroom and ran a nice hot shower. Both Felix and Chan joined you in a bid to make sure you knew that they were there, dousing you with as much praise as an individual could get – and they meant every word. 

When you were ready to hop out, Chan fetched you one of his warm jerseys and placed it straight over your body before telling you to hop in his bed while he went to gather up the towels and clothes from the bathroom. Just as he was picking up the last items, Felix caught him right as he was about to walk out. 

“She okay?” Chan asks him. 

Felix nods reassuringly, “out like a light.”

“Alright then,” he sighs contently. “She’ll probably be asleep for the rest of the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, staring at a space just to the side of Chan who picks up on the subtle behaviour. 

“Is there something wrong?” Chan asks as a slight concern balloons in his chest. 

“When are you going to tell her?” Felix asks. 

Chan stares at him, trying to figure out what he means, “tell her what?” 

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, “that you like her, idiot. That we like her.” 

That had been a distant thought for Chan for some time. The possibility of that ever working out between the three of you seemed like a long shot. You only all slept together. There was no depth to it other than that even though deep down, Chan would’ve liked it to be for the sole purpose that he likes you. But it’s not just him.

It’s also the one standing at the doorframe, staring right back at Chan; Felix. 

[novaursa]

The Flames We Carry

- Summary: Ser Criston Cole expected for Rhaenys and Meleys to appear over Rook's Rest. To Gwayne's horror, Rhaenyra sent her sister instead: you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Rhaeyra's younger sister and is bonded to Silverwing. These events happen after Skyfall. If you want to read all the parts in chronological order visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (there is no adult content, but there are visual descriptions of violence, blood and gore)

- Word count: 3 712

- A/N: this was scheduled to be posted tomorrow, but I've decided post extra today. Enjoy.

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

Ser Gwayne Hightower had always been a man torn between loyalty and desire, but never more so than in the days leading up to the siege at Rook's Rest. The tension between him and Ser Criston Cole had grown sharper since that fateful day when he let you—the Princess, Y/N—slip through his grasp before their march on Duskendale. He could still feel the warmth of your skin against his, the taste of your lips lingering like a ghostly memory, a sweet torment. You had been his time and time again, even if only in stolen moments, and each encounter had deepened the scars on his heart.

Gwayne knew he should be focusing on the battle ahead, yet his thoughts strayed back to you, his mind replaying that night over and over. The look in your eyes when you realized he would let you go, when you understood the depth of his feelings despite all the bitterness that lingered between your Houses. He had set you free, knowing full well it was an act of treason in all but name, and yet he would do it again if it meant sparing you the horrors to come.

But now, at Rook's Rest, everything was escalating rapidly. Ser Criston's scorpion ballistas and archers were poised in ambush, waiting for the dragon they expected: Rhaenys on Meleys. The war council had been clear, and Gwayne had heard it all through gritted teeth—Aemond and Aegon would flank her on Vhagar and Sunfyre, trapping her in dragonfire and steel. It was a ruthless plan, one that made his stomach churn. He had sworn to protect his family, his king, and yet all he could think about was you.

The skies darkened, a shadow sweeping over the encampment. The men tensed, eyes raised to the heavens as the flap of wings grew louder. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked up, expecting the crimson scales of Meleys. But what he saw instead made his blood run cold.

Silverwing.

The graceful, silvery-grey dragon, once ridden by Queen Alysanne, now bonded to you. Gwayne’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. This was not supposed to happen. It was not supposed to be you in the skies above, facing down two monstrous dragons with only the loyal Silverwing at your side. Panic clawed at his throat, his mind racing. He could see it in Criston's eyes too—the slight widening, the realization that their ambush had just become a slaughter. Not for Rhaenys, but for you.

“No…” The word slipped from Gwayne’s lips before he could stop it. Without a second thought, he rushed toward the nearest scorpion, where soldiers prepared to take aim at Silverwing. His vision tunneled, anger and fear boiling together in his veins. He couldn’t let this happen—not to you.

"Stand down!" Gwayne shouted at the soldiers, shoving one aside with enough force to send the man sprawling. The crew looked at him in confusion, but Gwayne didn’t care. He grabbed hold of the crank, making it impossible for them to load the bolt.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?!” Criston’s voice was a venomous hiss as he stalked toward Gwayne, eyes blazing with fury. “You’re sabotaging the plan! Move, or I’ll have you—”

Gwayne spun around, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. “I won’t let you do this, Criston. Not to her.”

Criston’s lip curled in disgust. “Her? You would betray your king, your House, for a traitorous whore who—"

The sound of steel rang out as Gwayne drew his sword, slashing at the scorpion mechanism, rendering it useless. The soldiers scattered, unwilling to get caught in the confrontation between two knights who had both earned their deadly reputations. Criston’s eyes narrowed, and in the blink of an eye, his sword was in his hand, the tip leveled at Gwayne’s chest.

“You’ll die for this treachery, Hightower,” Criston spat, the words laced with venom.

“I would die a thousand times before I let you kill her,” Gwayne growled back, his voice low and dangerous. “I won’t let you harm her.”

Above them, the roar of dragons filled the air as Silverwing engaged with Sunfyre and Vhagar. Dragonfire crackled like thunder, the heat from the flames casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. You were up there, fighting for your life, for your cause. Gwayne’s heart ached with every fiery burst, knowing that each moment could be your last.

Criston lunged, and Gwayne barely parried the strike in time. The two knights clashed, steel against steel, each strike filled with desperation and fury. Gwayne fought with everything he had, driven by the need to protect you, even if it meant cutting down one of his own.

“Do you think she cares for you, Gwayne?!” Criston taunted between strikes. “She’s a dragonrider, a princess—she’ll never be yours! You’re a fool!”

“I know what I am,” Gwayne snarled, knocking Criston’s sword aside and slamming his shoulder into the other man’s chest, sending him stumbling back. “But I also know what I feel. And I’ll not stand by and let you murder her.”

Criston recovered quickly, rage twisting his features as he advanced again. “She chose Daemon over you! The Rogue Prince—do you think she’ll remember your name when she’s ash?”

Gwayne roared in fury, his blade a blur as he pressed the attack. The sounds of battle, of dragons shrieking and flames roaring, were deafening, but all Gwayne could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the desperate need to get to you, to save you. But with every second that passed, his hope dwindled, and fear gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

Then, the ground trembled, a shockwave of heat and force rippling across the battlefield as a massive burst of dragonfire erupted nearby. Gwayne staggered, the distraction costing him as Criston’s sword sliced across his side. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to fall. He couldn’t afford to fall—not when you needed him.

But as the flames subsided, a silhouette emerged through the smoke—Silverwing, descending, with you astride her. Your eyes, burning with determination and fury, locked onto the scene below: Criston standing over a wounded Gwayne, ready to deliver the killing blow.

“Y/N!” Gwayne shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

You didn’t hesitate. With a command, Silverwing unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, forcing Criston to leap back, narrowly avoiding being consumed by the flames. In the brief reprieve, Gwayne stumbled to his feet, clutching his side.

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The memory of that last kiss, of your shared moments, hung between you like an unspoken vow. Gwayne knew he had only seconds before the battle resumed, but in those few heartbeats, he saw the truth in your eyes—the love that had never truly died, the bond that still connected you, even through war and betrayal.

But there was no time for words. With a final, lingering look, you turned Silverwing toward the sky, preparing for the next wave of the fight. And as you ascended into the chaos once more, Gwayne knew he would fight until his last breath to protect you, even if the whole world stood against him.The battle raged on, but in that moment, Gwayne Hightower’s heart belonged to only one—you.

The battlefield below Rook’s Rest was a symphony of chaos and death, the sky a canvas painted with fire and blood. Gwayne could only watch in helpless agony as you and Silverwing clashed in the heavens with Sunfyre and Aegon, two dragons locked in a deadly dance of tooth and claw. Overhead, the monstrous shadow of Vhagar circled like a vulture, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Every screech of agony, every roar of defiance, was a knife twisting deeper into Gwayne’s chest.

On the ground, Criston Cole barked orders, his eyes fixed on the battle above. The soldiers scrambled, trying to reload the scorpions, but the dragonfire raining down made their task near impossible. Bolts flew haphazardly, striking neither dragon nor rider, only adding to the carnage below as men screamed, burning alive in dragonflame. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his ears, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the clash in the sky.

Silverwing and Sunfyre circled each other in a blur of flashing claws and snapping jaws, the air thick with the scent of burning flesh and blood. Gwayne could see the desperation in the way you leaned into every attack, urging Silverwing forward with a fury that matched his own. Aegon, though armored in golden scales and atop his mighty Sunfyre, was losing ground; he was not the rider you were, and Sunfyre, for all his pride, was no match for Silverwing’s speed and power.

“Hold fast, Sunfyre!” Aegon’s voice cut through the air, laced with both command and fear. But the king’s bravado was slipping. The once-proud Sunfyre shrieked in pain as Silverwing’s talons raked across his side, tearing through scales and flesh. Blood sprayed like rain, glistening in the sunlight before falling onto Criston’s soldiers below, causing them to scatter in panic.

Gwayne could feel his grip tightening on his sword as he watched, torn between the desire to cheer for your victory and the dread that this battle would consume you. Criston, standing nearby, had forgotten Gwayne entirely, his eyes alight with a mixture of awe and hatred. “If Sunfyre falls, so falls our king,” Criston muttered to himself, though Gwayne could hear the edge of panic in his voice.

But you would not give Sunfyre a moment of reprieve. Silverwing descended with fury, slamming into the golden beast with the force of a hurricane. The clash was brutal, teeth and claws tearing through scales, blood and fire mingling as the two dragons grappled. Sunfyre roared, a cry filled with both pain and rage, as Silverwing’s jaws clamped down on his wing.

“No!” Aegon’s scream echoed across the battlefield, his eyes wide with disbelief as Silverwing’s powerful muscles twisted and tore, shredding Sunfyre’s wing almost completely from its body. The golden dragon thrashed wildly, his flight faltering as the wing dangled uselessly by a thread of sinew and bone.

Gwayne’s breath caught in his throat, torn between elation and horror. You were winning, but at what cost? He knew what was coming next. Vhagar, that ancient beast of war, had been waiting for this moment. With a bellow that shook the very ground, the monstrous she-dragon descended like a nightmare from the skies, her jaws wide and hungry.

“Look out!” Gwayne shouted, knowing full well you couldn’t hear him from so far below. His heart thundered in his chest as Vhagar slammed into both Silverwing and Sunfyre with the force of a landslide. The three dragons collided in a tangle of limbs, scales, and teeth, a storm of rage and destruction. The impact was so fierce that Gwayne felt the ground shudder beneath him.

“No! No, no, no…” Gwayne whispered, his voice cracking as he watched the entangled dragons plummet toward the earth. You and Aegon were mere shadows against the backdrop of fire and smoke, barely visible as the dragons twisted and fell in a deadly spiral. Criston’s soldiers, caught between the descending juggernauts and their own fear, broke ranks, fleeing in every direction as the ground rushed up to meet the falling beasts.

Gwayne felt a cold dread settle in his bones as he watched you, desperately holding onto Silverwing’s saddle as the world blurred around you. You clung on with a ferocity that spoke to your will to survive, but against Vhagar’s ancient fury and Sunfyre’s desperate thrashing, even the mighty Silverwing was struggling.

Criston’s eyes were wild as he watched the battle unfold, his voice a harsh whisper of disbelief. “Vhagar will end it… she must end it…”

But Gwayne wasn’t watching Vhagar anymore. He was watching you. You were still fighting, still urging Silverwing to fight back, but the odds were overwhelming. Sunfyre’s golden scales were slick with blood, his roars more pitiful now as he struggled to right himself in the air. Silverwing’s wings beat furiously, trying to break free from Vhagar’s crushing grip, but the elder dragon’s jaws clamped down on Silverwing’s neck, dragging all three dragons toward the ground with terrifying speed.

The earth shook as the three dragons smashed into the battlefield, the impact sending up a cloud of dirt and debris. The sound was deafening—a sickening crunch of bone and screech of metal as the dragons collided with the earth. Gwayne’s heart dropped into his stomach, his eyes searching desperately through the smoke and dust for any sign of you.

“No…” he whispered, stumbling forward as if he could somehow reach you, somehow pull you from the wreckage of dragons and death. But even from here, he could see the carnage—Silverwing’s body twisted and battered, Sunfyre writhing in agony, and Vhagar looming above them all, a monstrous shadow of death.

For a heartbeat, the battlefield fell silent, every eye fixed on the wreckage of the fallen dragons. Gwayne’s breath was ragged, his eyes straining to catch a glimpse of you amidst the chaos. The dust began to settle, revealing broken bodies, shattered armor, and the mangled forms of the dragons.

And then he saw you—barely visible, still moving. You crawled from beneath Silverwing’s wing, blood streaking your face, your expression fierce even in the face of such overwhelming odds. Gwayne’s heart leaped into his throat. You were alive. Against all the odds, you had survived the fall.

But the battle was far from over. Vhagar’s malevolent eyes fixed on you, a deep rumble echoing from her throat as she prepared to finish what she had started. Aegon, still clinging to the last shreds of his pride, shouted commands to Sunfyre, but the once-majestic dragon was crippled, struggling even to rise.

Gwayne turned to Criston, his voice hoarse with desperation. “Do something! Call them off—she’ll be slaughtered!”

But Criston’s eyes were cold, devoid of mercy. “It’s too late, Hightower. She made her choice.”

Before Gwayne could respond, a deafening roar split the air as Vhagar reared back, ready to unleash a final torrent of fire upon you and Silverwing. Gwayne’s breath caught, knowing he was powerless to stop what was coming. All he could do was watch in helpless horror as the monstrous she-dragon prepared to strike.

But in those last moments, your eyes locked onto his. Even from across the battlefield, Gwayne saw the fire in your gaze—the unyielding determination, the refusal to surrender, even in the face of certain death. It was a look that would be seared into his memory forever.

And as Vhagar’s jaws parted, ready to unleash death upon the field, Gwayne did the only thing he could—he prayed. For you, for Silverwing, and for the love that had been forged in the fires of war.

It felt like time itself had slowed, the moments stretching into agonizing eternity. His breath hitched as the flames began to build in Vhagar’s throat, the light of impending destruction flickering in her maw. It would be over in seconds—everything would be lost.

But then, with a burst of speed that took even Gwayne by surprise, Silverwing jolted forward, her wings beating with desperate strength. As Vhagar’s jaws parted to unleash her fiery death, Silverwing struck. The smaller, silvery dragon lunged at Vhagar’s exposed throat, her teeth sinking into the tender scales. Her bite was unrelenting, fueled by both fury and the need to protect you. Vhagar’s flame sputtered out in a roar of agony, the ancient beast thrashing wildly as she tried to shake off the determined Silverwing.

Gwayne’s eyes widened in awe and terror. Silverwing’s tail snapped like a whip, striking Vhagar’s head with a force that reverberated across the battlefield. The blow landed squarely on Vhagar’s eye, the sound of bone and scale cracking sickeningly loud. The she-dragon’s roar of pain was a monstrous, guttural cry that seemed to shake the heavens. Even Aemond, usually so composed in battle, shouted in fury and alarm, yanking hard on the reins to regain control of his wounded dragon.

Gwayne knew he had only moments to act. Blood was streaming down your face, and even from a distance, he could see the exhaustion and pain etched into your features. You laid on the ground, barely holding on to life as Silverwing thrashed against Vhagar’s deadly strength. It was a miracle you had survived this long, but that miracle was on the brink of shattering. Gwayne’s decision was made in an instant, despite the searing pain in his side and the chaos around him.

Nearby, a riderless horse whinnied in terror, its eyes rolling as it tried to flee the madness. Gwayne gritted his teeth, limping toward the panicked creature. “Easy, girl,” he rasped, wincing with every step. The horse reared, wild with fear, but Gwayne moved with surprising swiftness, grasping the reins and swinging himself into the saddle with a grunt of pain. Blood stained his tunic from his earlier wound, but he forced himself to push through it. There was no time to dwell on it—not when you were up there, fighting for your life.

“Where are you going, you fool?!” Criston’s voice rang out behind him, filled with fury. “You’ll die, Hightower! Come back!”

But Gwayne was deaf to Criston’s commands. He spurred the horse forward, urging it toward the burning wreckage of dragons, toward you. The horse resisted at first, terrified by the scent of blood and fire, but Gwayne was relentless, guiding it with strong hands and determined resolve. The animal finally obeyed, its hooves pounding against the earth as it charged through the smoke and debris.

Criston cursed behind him, and Gwayne heard the clatter of armor as the Lord Commander sprinted after him, but Gwayne didn’t care. All that mattered was reaching you.

Above, the struggle between Silverwing and Vhagar intensified. Aemond’s curses mingled with the roars of his dragon as he tried to force Vhagar to tear herself free, but Silverwing was like a vice, her jaws locked onto Vhagar’s throat. The she-dragon’s great wings buffeted the air, but even Vhagar, with all her size and strength, was struggling against the tenacity of her smaller opponent. Silverwing’s wings were shredded, her silvery scales bloodied, but she refused to let go. She was holding on not just for herself, but for you.

“Y/N!” Gwayne’s shout cut through the chaos as he neared the spot where you lay half-alive below Silverwing’s wing. He could see that you were barely conscious, your grip weak on your sword as you fought to stay awake. Desperation fueled his every move as he urged the horse closer, reaching out to you. “Hold on! I’m coming!”

Through the haze of pain, you blinked up at him, your eyes unfocused. “Gwayne?” Your voice was faint, tinged with disbelief. “You… you shouldn’t be here…”

“I’m not leaving you!” Gwayne snapped, his voice rough with emotion. With a final burst of strength, he dismounted down beside you, reaching for your arm. The moment his hand grasped yours, you seemed to come back to life, your eyes clearing just enough to recognize him fully.

“Gwayne… you need to run,” you gasped, wincing as another jolt of pain coursed through you. “She’s going to kill us all…”

“Not today,” he vowed, pulling up with him and onto his horse. You were light in his arms, weakened from battle and injury, but there was still a flicker of the fierce spirit he had always admired in you. “I’ll get you out of here, I swear it.”

Criston’s voice was closer now, filled with anger. “Hightower, you’ll be executed for this!” he roared, but Gwayne didn’t even spare him a glance. He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, and the animal surged forward, carrying you both away from the hellish scene behind you.

As the horse galloped across the field, Gwayne glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see the moment when Silverwing’s strength finally gave out. Vhagar’s claws found purchase, tearing deep into Silverwing’s side, and with a heart-wrenching cry, the silver dragon was forced to release her grip. Vhagar reared up, triumphant and bloodied, but the cost of the battle was clear—her eye was ruined, her scales cracked and bleeding. Silverwing collapsed onto the battlefield, her wings crumpling beneath her, but even then, she snarled defiantly, refusing to bow.

But there was no more fight left in her. Gwayne’s heart broke as he watched the light fade from Silverwing’s eyes, her body slumping in exhaustion. Aemond’s laughter echoed through the sky, dark and cruel, as he urged Vhagar to take the final blow. But before Vhagar could finish her fallen opponent, Gwayne’s eyes caught the movement of Criston as he halted his pursuit.

“Cole!” Aegon’s voice was a ragged gasp, filled with pain and panic. The king lay on the battlefield, unmoving, his once-golden armor scorched and twisted from the flames. His face was barely recognizable, the flesh blistered and raw, his body wracked with agony. Criston’s eyes widened in horror as he realized what had happened—their king was grievously injured, possibly dying. All thoughts of pursuing Gwayne and you evaporated as Criston sprinted toward Aegon, screaming orders for a healer.

Gwayne tightened his hold on you as the horse raced away from the carnage, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. You clung to him weakly, your breath shallow, your strength fading fast. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he urged, his voice trembling with barely contained desperation. “Just hold on a little longer. We’ll find safety. I won’t let you die.”

Your eyes fluttered, and for a brief moment, you leaned your head against his chest, your voice a faint whisper. “You saved me… again…”

Gwayne’s throat tightened, his emotions threatening to spill over. “And I’ll keep saving you, no matter what it costs,” he promised, pressing a fierce kiss to your temple as the wind whipped through your hair. “I’m not losing you. Not today, not ever.”

Behind them, the battle raged on, but for Gwayne, the only thing that mattered was the woman in his arms and the fragile hope that somehow, despite everything, they would both live to see another day.

[disabilityawarenesspride]

How to Write an Image Description: A Fundamental Guide.

[Plain Text: How to Write an Image Description: A Fundamental Guide. End PT]

General Guidelines:

[PT: General Guidelines. End PT]

Object, Action, Context

[PT: Object, action, context. End PT]

This is what you want to prioritize. What are we looking at, what is going on, and what is the surrounding environment?

Keep it simple and get to the point

[PT: Keep it simple and get to the point.]

Try to use short, clear sentences and prioritize what the reader needs to know in the context of the post. We don't need to know that the tweet was posted at 2:08AM or what color rings someone is wearing. That doesn't really provide useful information. If you really want to provide some relevant details, be sure you get to the main point of the image first.

Context is Important

[PT: Context is Important. End PT]

Why is the image posted there? What information does it lend to the content around it? Make sure the viewer knows what they need to know to understand how the image relates to the text and content partnered with it.

For a meme or a tweet screenshot, we don't need to know all the details or what the background looks like, we just need to understand the joke. For something like art or photography, you may want to include more details.

Don't Assume

[PT: Don't Assume. End PT]

Don't assume gender, race, and pronouns of the subject(s) of the image. If you can find this context in the post, on op's blog, or somewhere else you can include it, but try not to make baseless assumptions.

Alt Text vs Image Descriptions

[PT: Alt Text vs Image Descriptions. End PT]

Alt text is great for people using screen readers, but it isn't always the most accessible option. Alt text can be glitchy, the font size cannot be changed for those who need large text, and it doesn't show up at all until the image either loads or completely fails to load.

For this reason, a longer description in plain text in the body of the post is a more accessible option.

I suggest a short summary in the alt text so people can get the overview of an image and a longer description in the body of the post. For example, compare the image description and the alt text for the following image:

[Image ID: A guide to writing alt text on images. At the top, it says "Writing Alt Text" in big white text. It then lists off five major steps to writing alt text. Identify who, expression, description, color, and interesting features. It then shows an image of a capybara, with a sample alt text that reads, "A capybara looking relaxed in a hot spa. Yellow yuzu fruits are floating in the water, and one is balanced on top of the capybara's head." with each block of text color-coordinated to show which of the five steps it corresponds to. At the bottom of the image is the word "Puzzle" stylized into a logo. End ID.]

The Alt text provides the bare minimum of what you need to know to contextualize the image, while the ID expands on details that help to understand it and provides more details.

Formatting:

[PT: Formatting. End PT]

Try your best to use correct spelling and grammar, but transcribe accurately. Use clear language and concise sentences where possible. However: Don't censor words or correct spelling when transcribing something from the image. You want the description to be as accurate to the image as possible.

[PT: use correct spelling and grammar, but transcribe accurately. End PT]

Always use plain text. Never use formatting like bold, italics, other fonts/font sizes/text colors, or text in all caps. If they appear in the original image, transcribe it in plain text like this:

[Bold, underlined] Always use plain text. [End bold and underlines.]

Begin an ID with square brackets [[these]], followed by "ID:" or "Image:". End the description with "End ID" and a closed square bracket ] to signify the end of the descriptions.

Screenreaders and visually impaired people sometimes struggle with symbols and emojis. Transcribe these instead when possible!

[PT: Transcribe these instead when possible. End PT]

The image description should be directly after the image, before any post caption or commentary.

Never use a readmore! If you delete the post or change your url the description is gone forever. It also makes the ID harder to reach in general, which is not accessible.

[PT: Never use a readmore! End PT]

Make your post accessible from the start if you can. Don't post something without an ID then reblog it with a description so that people have a chance to spread the inaccessible version of the post if they "prefer" the one without the "clutter" of an ID. That's ableist. If you post something without a description then end up describing it later, edit the ID into the original post.

[PT: Make your post accessible from the start. End PT]

Resources:

[PT: Resources. End PT]

The People's Accessibility Discord Server: I will always suggest this server! It's full of people that can help write descriptions, give feedback on IDs you've written, answer questions about accessibility, and more!

Online OCR: Image(/PDF) to text converter! This is really helpful, especially for transcribing text in tweet screenshots, article excerpts, etc. You will still have to do a bit of work formatting and correcting things sometimes, but it's a really helpful tool

CaseConverter: Good for converting lots of text in all caps for plain text transcriptions.

Meme Image Descriptions: This google doc has descriptions of many common meme images and templates!

Some simple Image Description formats: tailored largely for replies and screenshots from social media.

WebAim: A whole website for web accessability!

Online Accessibility Masterpost focusing on image descriptions from tumblr user @anistarrose. This has a ton of good resources, reading, and tips!

Reading & Guidelines:

[PT: Reading & Guidelines. End PT]

Cooper Hewitt guidelines for image description: This focuses on describing art, but it's a fantastic resource. It gives a good description on the distinction between alt text and long descriptions and gives guidelines for each. It's a pretty concise and easily comprehensible read with a lot of good tips towards the end.

Medium's How to Write an Image Description: Concise and helpful. The origin of "object, action, context".

Diagram Center Guidelines for Image Description: I really suggest reading through this. It gives a much more comprehensive understanding of what is important when writing a description and has different sections for help describing all sorts of things like photos, art, comics, diagrams, charts, math, chemistry, and more! A longer read, but it has a lot of specifics.

Perkins School for the Blind how to write alt text and image descriptions: Another great resource! Concise and helpful, shorter than Diagram Center's articles.

SiteImprove's Alt Text Best Practices: Focuses on Alt text not long image descriptions

Last Call Media- Accessible Comics: Great info for describing comics!

American Anthropological Association's Guide for creating image descriptions: an additional resource on IDs just because

Some tips from Tumblr user @keplercryptids! I reiterated a lot of these points here, but it's still a very helpful post!

General guideline from @can-i-make-image-descriptions and @accessibleaesthetics

Alt Text and Image Description Guide by @brownandtrans

Huge list of blogs that post accessible content!

And another google doc of accessible blogs!

If this post was too much information to read and absorb all at once, I suggest reading the first two links as well as some of the last few links that lead to Tumblr posts.

[PT: If this post was too much information to read and absorb all at once, I suggest reading the first two links as well as some of the last few links that lead to Tumblr posts. End PT]

Those probably have the most concise and easily digestible information, so choose one of those. If I've said anything incorrect in this post, please let me know so I can correct it ASAP! Thanks so much for reading and happy describing!

[onriyuview]

onriyu's favorite sex positions

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

wc: 362

summary: nsfw links of what i think are onriyu's favorite sex positions with small explanations/expansions of these positions, and mentions of other positions i think they'd favor too.

cw: nsfw links that include unprotected pinv sex (wrap it up pls), pulling out in sion’s link. positions shown: prone bone, reverse cowgirl, and spooning. other positions mentioned: mating press, aquarius, lotus, moonlight, missionary, bow. sion: size kink, cervix kissing. riku: ass slapping, slight assplay, hair pulling. yushi: groping, mentions of dirty talk.

a/n: more onriyu requested here! this is my first time trying to include nsfw links with my writing so i hope you guys like the added visuals hehe… also, i used sexpositions.club to refer to the names of the other positions mentioned. open at your own risk.

༘⋆ sion: prone bone

as a true soft dom, sion loves having power over you in bed. seeing how small you look under him in this position, the way he towers over you and locks your legs with his own makes him even more eager to fuck you. when his legs start to fall asleep from kneeling above you, he can lay himself across your back, the new angle making it so easy for the tip of his cock to kiss your cervix every time he buries himself in all the way. loves letting out grunts in your ear and kissing and nipping at your shoulders to ground himself. honorable mentions: mating press, aquarius

༘⋆ riku: reverse cowgirl

riku loves looking at not only your ass but the way your pussy wraps around his cock in reverse cowgirl. he absolutely adores when you offer to get on top of him and do all the work, especially on nights where he’s so desperate to just feel you around him. this position is perfect for his hands to grab at your hips and waist and guide you, land some smacks on your ass, or even press his thumb against your puckered hole. if he gets too impatient at the pace you’re setting, he can hold your hips down and thrust into you himself; he might even grab at your hair to gain a little more control again as he starts to take over. honorable mentions: lotus, moonlight

༘⋆ yushi: spooning

yushi loves the intimacy of fucking you while spooning, his hands able to wander anywhere he wants— to wrap around your neck, grab at your tits, or snake down and rub at your clit. if he wants to get even deeper, he can lift your leg and fill you up all the way with his length. it’s easy for him to whisper sweet nothings or the dirtiest string of words he can think of in your ear, too. loves letting you hear his moans as well, and he knows they affect you because he can feel the way you clench around him every time he lets out a sound of pleasure. honorable mentions: missionary, bow

a/n: happy 2025! thank you for all the love on my blog in 2024. i never thought i'd start writing smut let alone receive so many positive reactions from it. here's to another great year of smutty writing!

tags: @rikupid @be-my-sunrise ♡

[kiyo-cant-write]

hello!! good morning, afternoon or night, idk. Could I request Diasomnia (or just Silver and Malleus if it's too much characters) with a Snow White like reader? I recently re-watched Snow White and it kinda got me thinking about how they would interact with a reader that acts similarly to Snow White (very kind, caring, motherly and a tad bit naive). Thank you either way and have a good day!

diasomnia w/ snow white!reader ✧･ﾟ

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I am so sorry this took me so long! I do a lot of writing in addition to this blog and between that and school, things got away from me! Thank you for the request and I hope I did this idea justice ^^

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Summary: The following scenarios and headcanons depict the members of Diasomnia with a Snow White-inspired reader. Each of these is meant to be its own universe, like a visual novel route.

TW/CW: N/A

Notes: pre to in a relationship, the reader is Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is explicitly human/non-fae

Guest Stars: N/A

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Malleus Draconia

Malleus and [Name] share a certain innocence about the world.

They both fall victim to Lilia's pranks often.

Malleus is fond of them from the get-go because they seem more worried about him than afraid of him at the joint event.

This is where their friendship began.

Malleus thinks that [Name] is a unique person.

He wants to protect the person who seems so soft and caring.

Malleus doesn't understand how [Name] is so soft to others.

Everyone seems to like them. Can they teach him how to do that?

"How do you do it, [Name]?" Malleus asked them one evening as they walked around the school at twilight.

It was cold and [Name] was wrapped in a blanket from their dorm to keep out the cold. Still, they were walking. These walks were something they looked forward to even if it disrupted their (already questionable) circadian rhythm at times.

"Do what, Malleus?" they returned his question with another question, unsure what the draconic fae meant this time.

They didn't do anything out of the ordinary. Did they? Were they doing something so special without even being aware of it? They looked at him with wide curious eyes, urging him to elaborate.

"You are someone that everyone likes," Malleus told them plainly.

Name paused. Was that true? They thought about their relationship with the other students at Night Raven. Maybe they did have a lot of friends. Was that upsetting Malleus? He was rather... a solo rider.

"I suppose so... But it's not something I'm trying to do, so..."

They trailed off and Malleus placed a hand on their shoulder.

"I am not mad at you, Child of Man," he continued, "It is just something that I have noticed as we have known each other."

They nodded slowly, trying to understand what he was saying,

"Does it make you worry?" they asked, looking at him and taking a small step closer, "I don't want to cause you distress, Malleus..."

His brows furrowed slightly as he stared down at the small human he had become friends with. Was he worried? It seemed more than that.

"It's not just a worry," he continued, "Perhaps it is also... admiration."

They stopped before they could even begin their next sentence. Was Malleus complimenting them in earnest?

"Oh?" they managed to say.

He smiled, eyes gleaming.

"I do admire you deeply, [Name]," he told them, "For... For being all I cannot be."

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Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia starts off viewing [Name] as a child.

They remind him of Silver and he is much older than the other students, so it's only natural that he's a bit apprehensive.

They seem naive and that worries him, but it's also fun to use.

A few pranks have [Name] scrambling to get Sebek's help.

Still, Lilia cares about them, mostly from afar.

He would not be the one to confess first because he knows he will depart soon enough but he is always sweet to [Name].

The joke about [Name] being a second parent to Silver does not go unused. Silver did not appreciate that one but laughed in the end.

"My dear," Lilia began his statement in earnest, giving an almost evil grin as he came closer, however, to the person he had claimed as his lover only days ago, "May I ask you something~?"

"Lilia?" they asked, startling slightly when he hugged them but relaxing into it all the same, "What is it?"

They were used to him being a bit strange but part of him seemed... very serious and they were not sure what to make of it. [Name] was new to this whole "dating" situation. Sure, they had read about it. But this was different. This was real. Wasn't it?

This was new for them, in more ways than one, he was Lilia-senpai.

"[Name], how do you feel about being a mother?" he asked.

They paused. What was he asking them? Why? Now? Why would they be a mother? Children? They were still in school and, and, and...

Their thoughts raced a bit at the question but calmed as soon as they heard the giggly laugh that suggested he was messing with them somehow.

"You must not fret so," he told them, patting their head affectionately.

"But you asked if I was going to be a mom?" they asked him.

"Not of new life, not yet," he told them, that was a plan for some other day at some other time, "I meant to my son who is almost grown."

Son... who is almost... SILVER?

Their jaw dropped at the realization.

"You want me to help with Silver?"

[Name]'s eyes were wide. Silver wasn't too far from their age.

"Yes!" Lilia chirped an answer.

"Well..."

What were they supposed to say to this? They weren't the type to decline their lover's request and they did care for Silver. They could see how he would need another parent to balance the chaos of Lilia now. But, them? It was a lot to take in.

"I will let you think about it, but as my lover, it does make you a parent to him in some sense of the word, perhaps an unconventional one, though," he explained to them.

They nodded.

"Father, please do not harass [Name]!" Silver spoke up from across the room, looking at [Name] a moment later, "You do not need to be my mother if you do not wish to be."

Ah, [Name] had forgotten. They were in the Diasomnia Commons. Silver and Sebek were here. There was an audience.

"Hmm..." they hummed, trying to think it over.

"But isn't Silver still so cute?" Lilia cooed.

"Father-" Silver attempted to cut in but [Name] spoke too soon.

"I suppose I wouldn't mind helping with your son, Lilia."

"Yay~"

At least Lilia was happy. Silver might need to vent to someone later.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Silver

Silver does not realize he has befriended [Name] until they have been friends for several weeks. He does not have the heart to back out after this and only grows closer to them from this point on.

He grows to like their optimistic attitude.

They share a bit of naivety in the world and others sense this.

Silver confesses first as he believes this is the "correct" way to do it based on the books (manga) that Lilia offered him as advice.

They decide to be a couple fairly easily and it's a first for them both. Silver has never had a relationship outside of his work as a guard and being Lilia's adoptive son.

Silver and [Name] don't realize they are in love until everyone else is already painfully aware of their feelings for each other.

Lilia likes to mess with both Silver and his lover.

Silver and his lover often become victims of these pranks.

[Name] and Silver are too forgiving in these instances.

Sebek sometimes yells at them about it.

"Is this cheese?" [Name] asked Silver, trying to get the substance out of her hair and failing, "Cheese from the ceiling?"

Their expression was one of confusion as they looked between their hair and the white-haired boy who was also trying to get the sticky orange substance off of his dorm uniform's horned hat. He didn't seem pleased but was far less surprised than they were.

"Yes, I think so," he told them.

They paused, thinking about it more deeply.

"....Why?"

"Well..." Silver trailed off for a moment, trying to think of a way to answer her without incriminating someone, "It was a practical joke."

"A joke? Cheese from the ceiling was a joke?" she asked, confused but not angry, trying to find the hilarity in the event, "What does it mean?"

"I don't think it has a meaning, this is just how my- How Lilia-senpai shows his affection for me, for you, for ... us, I suppose?"

"Oh..." they said before their eyes widened, "Oh!"

"Yes..." he managed to respond, hesitant.

He felt a bit bad Lilia had done something that startled them.

"Does that mean Lilia-senpai thinks of us as... a pair?"

"Maybe?" Silver responded.

It seemed likely enough that Silver and [Name] were seen as a pair by his father. He was prone to assigning roles to people in Silver's experience. It didn't warrant cheese but, oh well. They really do sell everything at the School Store, he noted.

That was probably where his father had gotten this... whatever it was.

"We are best friends, right Silver?" [Name] asked, pulling him from his thoughts at what other oddities the store might be selling.

"Yes, but..."

He wanted to say it. He had thought it over for a week, been yelled at by Sebek, been told to "court properly" by Prince Malleus... He had to do it. He was a knight. What scared him so much about this?

Silver let out a soft breathy sigh.

"But?" [Name] asked, repeating what he had half-said.

He had to do this. He wanted to do this. Silver was determined.

"I have been meaning to ask you something, [Name]," he told them.

"What is it...?" [Name] asked, surprised for the second time that day.

Copying what he had read in the books Lilia offered him, he took their hands in his and looked at them with a sparkle in his eyes they had not seen until this very moment. He was serious.

"[Name]," he spoke once more.

They blinked at him. What was he trying to say?

"Yes....?" they replied.

"Would you do me the... honor of..." Silver paused for a second or two before he continued, "Being mine? I am in love with you so ardently I might... You're lovely."

The line was a jumble of the things he had read. Would that suffice? Would it be a proper request to them? He knew it had to be done respectfully or else he would bring shame to his father and master alike. Silver would never want to do that, he was loyal to the fae despite his very humanity.

His eyes gazed into theirs, not wanting to look away and miss their answer. Silver watched as they processed his words, face flushing slightly as soon as they understood what he meant with that flowery question. They struggled for words.

"You. Me..." they paused, "Yes!"

He expected a bit more hesitation but they seemed enthusiastic about it as they jumped into his arms and wrapped theirs around his neck, hugging him tightly. They both ignored the strings of sprayable cheese that was still covering them both and the laundry that would need to be done shortly after.

"I am glad you accept my feelings," he managed to say.

[Name] nodded into his shoulder.

"This is all like a dream.." they said softly to him.

If this was a dream, Silver noted, it was a sweet one.

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Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is annoyed by [Name] for the first while they know each other but it is mostly because their "kind" personality causes them to approach him and they are a HUMAN.

They grow on him only because he just keeps running into them?

Is the universe trying to get them together? (yes)

Through repeated exposure, they begin a kind of friendship

[Name] listens intently when Sebek speaks about Malleus.

This aids in the development of their friendship.

Sebek does not know how to confess.

There is some internal conflict for this guard about his feelings.

[Name] remains blissfully unaware of his struggles.

Sebek means well he was just raised by a very human-phobic grandpa who he idolizes. We're all aware it's a problem.

"Sebek!" [Name] finally said a bit louder than the original attempt at getting his attention, "Are you okay?"

The knight was startled to attention and instantly straightened his posture before taking a fighting stance as though they were in danger. To that, [Name] was not sure what to say.

"Ah, it's you," he said, albeit quieter than usual, "I'm fine."

They narrowed their eyes at him briefly but didn't say anything. [Name] trusted him at their core, so they believed his words.

"If you say so," they shrugged, "So, are we going into town?"

Sebek turned to see [Name] sparkling at him with the sweetest smile on their lips. They were excited about this trip, weren't they? How could he have let himself get distracted from a task that Lilia gave him? Lilia told him to accompany this human, his friend, into town as a guard. Something about magic-less people not being safe alone.

He was in no position to question Lilia.

"We are!" he said, volume returning with force, "OFF WE GO!"

[Name] just giggled as they followed after him, blissfully unaware of the reason for his awkward posture and strange fluctuation in volume (even more than usual). They simply assumed it was Sebek being himself. He always was a bit strange and they adored him for it, seeing the passion in his eyes even when he was being a bit... much.

As kind and caring as they were, there was a certain naivety about [Name]. Falling in love was foreign to them. Perhaps that was why they did not notice the tell-tale signs that Lilia would have pointed out to them if he didn't like seeing Sebek squirm so much.

Sebek was in love with [Name].

But how did he tell someone that he cared for them? That he appreciated their mothering side and the fact that they listened to him. He thought about them! He wanted to please them! And... He dreamed of what their life could be like after they graduated. That one was embarrassing.

He glanced over toward them for a moment.

There they were, blissfully unaware of the anxiety within him at the thought that his feelings could change the friendship they had.

"This will be a fun day," Sebek told [Name], "You have my word."

"As a knight?"

"Yes... As a knight."

"Yay!!"

Their smile was all that mattered to him. He could wait just a bit longer to tell them the truth. All in good time... He could do it.

Lilia might have other plans though...

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Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[yuurei20]

how muscle is the boy and who the most buff because i think silver gym clothes is lying

Hello hello! Thank you so much for this question! I have been hoping to talk about this for so long ⚔️

There is something special about the school uniform and gym clothes cards 👀

Summary 1) Sprites do not always visually represent what is actually happening in the game 2) Yana does not have full control over what can appear as sprites 3) Yana illustrated the gym clothes and school uniform cards from start to finish by herself!

Details/Sources 1) There is sometimes a disconnect between what the sprites are doing and what is actually happening in the stories, as the limits of the medium mean that they can only portray so much.

We will be told via dialogue that what is actually happening is different from what we're seeing on screen, which is where the "novel" part of "visual novel" has to do some heavy lifting.

(above: We are told that Idia is riding Ortho, Jack has tanned and Kalim is wearing glasses, without anything represented visually.)

This is also true of Silver being unusually well-muscled, with characters referencing such repeatedly! (especially in Book 7, for spoiler-reasons that cannot be shared on this blog)

(Ortho: "Silver is also incredibly built!")

In a vignette Silver explains he was able to beat a man in an arm-wrestling contest who had successfully beaten several "burly" members of Savanaclaw:

"All of Ruggie's burly friends had tried, but each lost within seconds. At first the owner went easy on me. Worried he would hurt me, he said. But once he realized I was no pushover, he stopped holding back...It was no easy feat, but all their encouragement helped me eke out a victory."

As for how Silver can possibly be so well-muscled, he explains it is from life with Lilia:

"I've never really struggled with anything involving physical fitness...my daily life back home was training enough. Drawing river water, chopping firewood...Chasing around the animals who lived nearby must have helped strengthen my legs as well...once I stalled while climbing a sheer cliff, and (Lilia) climbed right up beside me to show me how it should be done."

2) In a tweet posted on 2020/5/12 Yana talks about submitting her idea for Crowley to be wearing a vacation outfit in Book 4, despite expecting it to be rejected.

So it seems that she does not have complete control over how the sprites look: she designs the characters but is maybe not doing the game development work of physically implementing them, and there are others who can approve of or reject her ideas based on in-game limitations.

Was a canon-accurate Silver sprite maybe one of those rejections?

Effort was even made to give Silver muscle in the 2nd anniversary PV, so it does seem to be an important point.

3) We do not know too many details about the team that is helping Yana with card illustrations but we know they have been there from the beginning, with the recently released English-version of the first visual book (called "The official art book" in English) providing translations of Yana's notes to the colorists for the ceremonial robes and labwear art.

(Above: hand-written notes seen on Kalim's labwear and ceremonial robes base art)

She also references a graphic artist in her 2020 interview for the Magical Archives:

"As for the illustrations, this was my first time having my original drawings cleaned up by a graphic artist. I am a very rough draftsman by nature, and I make overall corrections before a piece is complete. No matter how careful I am in my original drawings, sometimes details get confused, so whenever I receive a draft back from the graphic artist, I become a useless original artist who is constantly going back to say, ‘I am so sorry, but can you please make these corrections?’" - Toboso Yana (Magical Archives game guide)

But the gym clothes and school uniforms (the original batch of R cards) were different: Yana says she did them all by herself from start to finish, as they were going to be most people's first introductions to the characters.

Disney Twisted-Wonderland has been released today.  ・Character design ・Main scenario creation ・Card illustration (all rarities / including finishing for the R cards) ・Supervision of personal scenarios (writing several as well) I handled everything above. I hope you enjoy it! - Toboso Yana (Twitter, 2020/5/8)

I felt that the initial R school uniforms and sportswear cards are special, as they are likely to be the first introductions to these characters, so I was in charge of them all. I am grateful to have been trusted with them. - Toboso Yana (Twitter, 2020/4/13)

So there we are! 🥳

If anything we can maybe consider the base card art for the gym clothes and school uniforms as more "canon" than the sprite designs of those same characters, even though the sprites are what we're used to seeing, as card art is not being forced to change the characters' appearances in order to fit the limitations of Live 2D sprites ⚔️ Maybe!

(The sprites have this same issue with height! In the game Epel is made taller while Malleus is made shorter, in order to fit his horns in the screen.)

[wolfnanaki]

Can you sum up the Goodbye Volcano High vs Snoot Game controversy? I don't know shit and you seem like the most knowledgeable person on it.

Okay. Summary time.

Developed by Canadian indie worker cooperative studio KO_OP, Goodbye Volcano High is a cinematic narrative/rhythm indie game about a group of dinosaur teenagers dealing with the impending end of the world from an asteroid. It features predominantly queer characters; the main character is an AFAB nonbinary pterodactyl named Fang.

GVH was revealed as part of the PS5 reveal lineup back in June 2020. From there, it experienced a few delays due to COVID, rewriting the story after the original writer was let go, and dealing with anti-LGBT harassment. It finally came out in late August 2023 to positive reception and some awards. It didn't sell a billion copies but it's been gradually growing its fanbase for over a year now.

A few days after GVH was first revealed, a group of 4channers, under the developer name "Cavemanon", decided they'd do their own visual novel using GVH's characters to spite GVH before it even came out. This VN, Snoot Game, came out in June 2021. It's a story where a featureless human male named "Anon" becomes Fang's friend and eventually boyfriend. It has an extremely anti-trans narrative, along with racist humor, promotes eugenics, has a school shooting ending if Fang doesn't detransition, and more.

Snoot ended up becoming very popular and spread around the internet, developing its own fanbase across social media. The worst parts of its fandom downplay Snoot's harmful rhetoric while harassing GVH's fans and developers. When GVH came out, they shared a pirated copy, called it the worst game ever, and encouraged people to support Snoot instead. I spoke out about all this and got doxed.

Snoot's success lead to Cavemanon hijacking a fan project from its original developers and making it into a spiritual sequel sold on Steam, called I Wani Hug That Gator!, released in February 2024. A few weeks after it came out, a former developer released a dossier speaking out about Cavemanon's working conditions, lack of compensation, and extreme right-wing views, to which Cavemanon responded with a hitpiece attacking everyone involved in the doc and linking my dox on Kiwifarms while mocking me for being trans.

To this day, mainstream gaming press outlets have refused to cover this story in any meaningful way, and Cavemanon has not faced any consequences for anything they've done. Wani has sold very well on Steam, and Cavemanon has opened their own web store and patron-supported developer blog, where they give terrible game dev advice and rant about "grooming operations" and the like.

So... that's it, really.

[ramp-it-up]

Muse: Six

Muse: Five | Muse Masterlist | Muse Seven

Peach Masterlist | Knock You Down Masterlist

Summary: You tell Ari your dream. Bucky shows up in this one and Frumoasă spills his little secret to you. Oh. And Ari gets that clarity. Many times over.

Pairing: Art Curator! Ari Levinson x Plus sized model! Reader; Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Peach; Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Bucky Barnes x Frumoasa

Word count: 5.9 K

A/N: Muse has been a series of one shots featuring Muse and Ari, and this the sixth one. We’re nearing the end of the run and I don’t want to quit them! 🥹 Big thanks to @princessphilly who basically inspired the premise and has endured me being unhinged in her inbox. In this one, we have Bucky and Frumoasa and Bucky has a confession to make! This AU is tangential to the Peach and Knock You Down verses. I love reblogs, replies, asks and likes. Let me have it! :)

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Art Curator Ari. Plus sized model Reader, Muse opens up, supermodel slay, Steve + Peach and Bucky + Frumoasă (they are a warning). Dancing, Muse is a model, y’all. Posessive Ari, Soft Dom Ari, references to spanking and other punishments, praise kink, nipple play, oral (m/f receiving), SIZE KINK, raw p in v, claiming/breeding kink, cum play, fucking, making love, multiple orgasms. A lot of plot, and then some porn.

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I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

You planned the next date but kept the details to yourself.

“Trust me,” you said.

Ari raised a brow, skeptical, but let you take the lead. And that’s how you ended up hand-in-hand on a crisp Saturday morning, stepping into a hidden bookstore on the Lower East Side that smelled like old paper and good coffee.

He held the door open, brushing the small of your back. He paused just inside, eyeing the space. Then he turned to you, smiling like you’d just opened a secret door to your soul.

Sunlight poured in through tall windows, dust swirling in golden sheets over the creaky hardwood. Shelves climbed toward the ceiling, packed with novels, art books, and poetry.

A handwritten sign read: Please touch. Books are meant to be loved.

You smiled to yourself. 

“God, I love this place.”

Ari followed you in with a small grin. 

“I can see why. It’s very… you.”

“What? Messy and full of opinions?”

Ari laughed, “Exactly.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and peeled away, magnetized by the curated tables and tall wooden stacks of fiction, magazines, and photography.

Your whole energy had shifted.

You were lighter. Freer. 

Ari was seeing the girl who used to get lost in books and forget to come back.

He drifted toward the architecture section, then a glass case of rare prints. One stopped him. It had a matte black cover, thick paper, and a silver signature from that visual poet you once obsessed over. 

Once. In passing.

You were leaned against a shelf, flipping through a magazine called Soft Chaos, lit by sunlight like stained glass. He watched you and felt something warm and a lot like love press against his ribs.

Ari looked back at the book. He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t put it back either.

Eventually, he gathered a few books and made his way to you. You looked up, smiled, and tugged him to the back of the store, to worn leather chairs and a tiny bar serving espresso in handmade mugs.

You handed him one without a word, then curled up cross-legged across from him. You let him drink his coffee before you said anything. Then, when he glanced up at you from his pile, you took a breath and said the words that opened yourself to him.

“I used to dream about doing something like this. My own magazine.”

His eyes lit up. 

“What kind?”

“Culture. Fashion. Real art. Big interviews. No ads for anything fake.”

You grinned, almost shy.

“Something that means something.”

You paused, then laughed softly, embarrassed. 

“Anyway. Just a pipe dream.”

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee and rubbing his beard, thinking.

“Why is it only a pipe dream?”

You shrugged, flipping the pages of the magazine. 

“Because I’m a model, not an editor. I’m supposed to be on the cover, not the one writing the captions.”

Ari made a quiet sound of disagreement and reached for another copy of the magazine you held, flipping through it absently. 

“You don’t think you could do both?”

You glanced at him. He wasn’t teasing. He was just there. Listening.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. 

“It feels too big. Like, what if I try and it’s nothing? What if I’m not enough?”

He set the magazine aside, reached across and pulled your chair toward him, knees brushing. The power in that gesture was very hot.

“Muse. Look at me.”

Those steel blues were holding you accountable.

“You lit up the second you walked in here. You love this. It’s in your bones. You’re already halfway there, hell, more. You are the audience. You know what this world needs. What you need.”

“But–”

He took your hand.

“You are more than enough. And if you really want this?”

He smiled, certain of you. 

“The world better brace itself. You’d change the fucking game.”

Your chest tightened. You smiled. Who knew that his reaction would make you so happy? You loved this man.

“You think?”

“I don’t think,” he said, leaning forward. “I know.”

“You’re kind of dangerous, you know.”

He smirked. 

“Only in very specific, highly curated situations.”

You laughed at him and leaned forward to softly kiss him on the lips.

“Thanks, Levinson.”

“No problem, Muse.”

You curled your legs across his lap, flipping pages again. He sipped his coffee, hand resting on your shin, thumb trailing slow arcs on your skin.

The moment was perfect.

Two lattes and half a chocolate croissant later, you were showing him old punk and queer magazines from a curated shelf, full of grainy photos and counterculture elegance. 

Ari was all in, asking questions, but watching you more than the pages.

“I could help,” he said casually, after you sketched out your vision for the first issue: Black female artists under 30, subversive fashion, and a photo essay of unsent love letters.

You blinked,“Help how?”

“I know a guy in London who prints indie art books. And my cousin’s ex does layout for Paper, I could make a call.”

You blinked as he sipped his coffee. 

“If you want. No pressure.”

You just stared at him.

“You’re serious?”

Ari nodded. “Dead serious.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“As your man, I’d back you in a heartbeat. All in. Spirit, cash, connections. Whatever you need.”

Your breath caught. Your man.

“You don’t even know the name.”

He leaned back, one brow lifted.  

“I do, actually.”

You squinted. “What?”

“The only name it could be.

Muse Magazine.”

You tried not to smile. And failed.

“But…”

“And I know you only want to do print, but I bought the domain muse.com last month. After our third… night.”

Your breath caught. “You what?”

“I knew it was for a reason.”

You just stared at him. For once, no clever comeback. Just a slow, exquisite ache opening in your chest.

You leaned forward. He met you halfway.

The kiss started gentle, then it deepened. Your hands found his collar. His fingers slid along your jaw. But Ari pulled back first, his breathing steady, but his eyes were dark.

“If I kiss you the way I want to,” he said, voice rough, “we’ll be banned from this bookstore.”

You smirked, lips brushing his ear.

“Then let’s go home.”

Ari froze. That word, home. It hit him like a thunderbolt. He knew what you meant. Either place. But together.

His jaw tightened and a slow, dangerous smile curved at the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t kiss you again. Not yet.

Outside, dusk was taking over the skyline. You could see your reflections in the glass, him, leaning in; you, lit up.

—-

Ari was sitting on the edge of his couch, taking notes on his phone, inspired by you, as always, but particularly the conversation at the bookstore. 

Before going out that morning, you’d showed up at his place with a bag. When you told him there would be wardrobe changes involved, he'd just laughed, because of course there would be.

He was dreaming about the future while half-listening to the sultry bassline playing over his speakers. He wore a black button-up, the sleeves stretched taut across his biceps and the top few buttons undone to reveal a teasing flash of chest and the glint of a gold chain. His trousers were dark charcoal, and cut perfectly to hug his thighs and adhere to the fashion of the moment. Even the expensive yet tasteful gleam of his watch matched the rest of him.

You told him to dress for an active night out on the town. He didn’t know exactly what to expect, but he always went with the flow of you.

The moment you stepped out of his bathroom and his eyes lifted, everything stopped.

There you were, in a backless, body-hugging LaQuan Smith number that shimmered midnight blue under the light. The fabric clung to every curve on your body, low neckline in front, no bra, and all drama in the back, balanced by a hip-slit that flashed toned thigh with every step. 

You paired it with towering gold stilettos. No jewelry. Just red nails, red lip, and a determination to show out that night.

Ari swallowed hard. “Jesus.”

His eyes raked over you like he was trying to memorize you before he even moved. Two strides and he was towering over you, one hand curling around your waist, fingers splayed wide and possessively against you.

“You changed,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours. “You were in jeans this morning.”

“Mmhmm.” You tapped your finger against your lips, pretending to think. “Were those not doing it for you?”

“Don’t play with me, Muse,” he warned, his gaze flicking briefly to the curve of your breasts before snapping back to your eyes. 

“You know exactly what this is doing to me.”

You slid a hand along the line of his shirt, fingers brushing the warm skin beneath. 

“I wanted to see your face when I wore this. Worth it?”

He huffed a rough laugh, but there was no humor, just need. 

“I’m trying real hard not to bend you over the kitchen counter right now.”

You thrilled at the growl in his throat and the heat in his eyes.

It had been too long. 

You rose onto your toes, shorter even in the impossible heels, and pressed your lips to his ear to whisper, “Maybe I wore it hoping you would.”

His grip on your waist tightened.

“That’s it.”

He backed you up, hips pressing yours into the nearest surface. His mouth found your neck.

“We’re gonna be late to SOB’s,” he rasped, but he didn’t stop. 

You grinned mischievously as he marked you up like he wanted the whole damn city to know. Maybe he did. And maybe you wanted him to.

“Would you rather stay in?” you teased.

His lips ghosted over your collarbone to your shoulder murmuring things that made your knees threaten to give out.

“This outfit’s a problem, baby. You know that, right?”

Your nipples, already pebbled, pressed against his chest through rich fabric. 

“Ari…”

“Everyone at SOB’s is gonna break their damn neck staring at you.” His mouth was hot against your skin. “And I’ll let them. Just so they know who you’re coming home with.”

“So is the vow of celibacy over?”

Ari raised his eyebrow at you and then replied.

“Baby, I’ll get on my knees right now and make all kinds of vows.” 

He licked his lips and took you in his arms.

“I’d kiss you, but it would ruin your lipstick. I’ll leave that for later. Maybe you can leave it around my cock.”

You managed to shove him off with a laugh because God, you really did want to dance. Peach’s Couples Salsa Night was calling.

You stepped to the mirror in the entryway to re-tame your hair. Ari came up behind you, hands locking onto your hips and dragging you back against the thick ridge of his erection. You gasped like a school girl.

You wanted it so bad.

“You ready to drive me insane in public now?”

You smirked at him in the mirror, watching the fire in his eyes.

“You started it.”

—-

Peach’s monthly Salsa night was a Thing. 

A capital T, heels on, couples sweating, bodies close kind of Thing. When she DM’d you the flyer, you lit up, because you liked her so damn much and this looked like a good time.

And because you were dying to see Ari Levinson squirm.

The bass of a Sonora Carruseles track rolled through the space, making your hips sway with a sinful rhythm. 

You were a sight to behold.

Ari hadn’t let go of your hand since you walked in.

“You nervous?” he asked, eyes on your face.

“You’re asking me that?” you shot back, teasing. “You’re the one who likes to hit on Mob wives.”

Ari rolled his eyes and groaned.

“I knew Peach told you. You been saving that all week?”

You grinned. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I get it. She’s hot. You’re a bonehead. But remember, you're my bonehead now.”

His brain straight-up glitched. Your possessiveness got him harder than a rock.

The flash of hunger in his eyes made you clench, hard. You elbowed him to shake the lust fog, but Ari was quick, snaking a hand around your waist and dragging you flush to his chest.

You already knew how tonight would end.

Peach was in her element, shouting instructions over the music and twirling across the floor into Steve’s waiting arms. He wasn’t a bad dancer, clearly in tune with his partner. The man actually smiled. He was definitely in love and they looked damn good together, strength and chaos moving in time.

Nearby, her cousin swayed slowly with Bucky Barnes, a baby bump between them. She glowed. Literally. And Bucky was under her spell, although he looked like he was about to faint every time she spun on those high heels she was wearing.

You leaned into Ari’s chest, letting him hold you as you watched the couples blur into the movement of the night.

“Peach’s playlist is filthy tonight,” you murmured into his neck and slipped your arms around it, grinning.

“Mmm,” Ari hummed, dipping his head to yours. 

“So are you. This dress should be illegal.”

You brushed a kiss against his jaw. 

“Guess you’ll have to arrest me. Got any handcuffs?”

His hand tightened on your hips, and the groan he let out had your knees weak.

“I can get some. Then I'll cuff you to my bed and…”

He couldn’t finish before the music cut because someone bumped the speaker. You just grinned at each other like love drunk idiots instead of voicing what you were both thinking.

Ari went off to find drinks, and you found yourself deep in conversation with the radiant, pregnant Mrs. Barnes. She was mid-sentence about Harlem Renaissance art when she suddenly stopped, eyes gleaming like she knew something.

“I like you,” she said. “But before we start going on triple dates, I need to tell you something.”

Your stomach dipped. 

“Tell me what?”

“Bucky once said you were his hall pass.”

Your jaw dropped. 

“I….what?!”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded, wicked grin on her lips. 

“We were in a bookstore. Saw you on a magazine cover. I was drooling over how beautiful you were and Bucky just… spilled.”

You wheezed.

“He told me he tried to get your number once through one of your model friends and she blocked him because she was jealous.”

You were covering your mouth now, eyes tearing up from laughter. 

“He said, and I quote, ‘I would’ve folded like a lawn chair.’”

You collapsed into giggles, leaning against Ari who had just returned, drink in hand and scowl already forming.

“What did he say?” Ari growled.

She held up a hand.

“Relax, caveman. It was years ago. And I made it very clear that if he ever tried it, I’d have his balls on the mantle.”

You howled. She smirked, then leaned in.

“Real talk? You’d be my hall pass too.”

You blinked, stunned.

She nodded, smug as hell.

“I’m married, pregnant, and still know fine when I see it.”

Ari groaned like he’d been personally victimized.

“I’m right here.”

Frumoasa waved him off. 

“Don’t be greedy, mountain man. You already won.”

Just then, Bucky wandered over, cheeks pink but eyes locked on his wife like she was the last star in the sky. His hand automatically came to rest on her lower back and he leaned in to kiss the top of her head without saying a word.

“Speak of the devil,” she sing-songed.

Bucky glanced at his wife who grinned, and then you, smiled sheepishly, and shrugged. 

“She tell you?”

You grinned. 

“Every detail.”

He chuckled, brushing a hand down his face. “Damn.”

Bucky’s wife beamed at him. Ari glowered, but didn’t say a word. 

Good boy, you thought.

“Don’t worry, babe. I made it clear that if you ever tried anything, you’d be sleeping in Prospect Park.”

Bucky looked at his wife, completely unbothered, maybe a little embarrassed, but mostly just in love. He bent to murmur something in her ear, and she lit up instantly, laughter ringing like wind chimes.

The music started again and Peach got on the mic with dance instructions and you and Ari began to laugh as you stepped on each other’s feet. It was such a good time. 

At one point, Peach yelled, “Switch partners!” and Ari growled low in protest until you laughed and let go. You ended up with Bucky, who was blushing. 

“You okay?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I’m good.” He looked at you seriously.

“Listen, that was before I met her. I was a bit of a player. But I really do love my wife.”

He was gazing at her and you followed his lead. From across the floor, she gave you a slow wink and then patted her belly smugly. You snorted, unable to help the grin that overtook your face.

“She’s a menace. I like her.”

“As you should. I sure do,” Bucky said, the affection in his voice unmistakable. 

“She’s a lucky lady.”

Bucky smiled down at you and spun you gracefully.

“No. I’m the lucky one. She made me a better man.”

When the song ended, Ari beelined straight for you, clearly having zero interest in switching again.

“Mine,” he muttered, pulling you back into his arms.

You laughed but didn’t argue.

Then Peach got back on the mic. 

“Okay lovers, we’re dialing it down. Grab your person. This next one’s about the most important part of a relationship.”

And then,Jazmine Sullivan’s BPW started playing.

You snorted. Peach was too much.

“She’s not wrong,” Ari murmured, mouth to your ear. “And you do have the best pussy in the world.”

His hand slid to the small of your back. Your fingers laced with his. Your bodies fell into a rhythm, completely in sync. 

“Oh? You remember it?”

He pulled you closer, his lips grazing your temple, ignoring your sarcasm entirely.

“Jesus, you feel so good in my arms.”

“You keep saying shit like that, Levinson, and I might start believing you.”

He stilled for half a second. His hand tightened at your waist.

“Believe it,” he murmured. “Every fucking word.”

Then Ari leaned in again, this time giving you a kiss that left no room for doubt. You melted against him, arms looped around his neck, hips swaying to the slow, delicious rhythm of the music and him. 

You cupped his face in both hands, pulling his tongue into your mouth like you needed it. And when you finally broke apart, there were eyes on you, but neither of you cared.

“You’re killing me,” he murmured, lips grazing your cheekbone. 

“Wearing this dress. Kissing me like that.”

You tilted your head, teasing.

“Like what?”

He exhaled a sound that was half-laugh, half-growl, then dropped his forehead to yours. 

“Like you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Like I wanna suck your cock?”

You both spoke at the same time.

Your comment earned you a sharp look, one you felt all the way between your thighs.

The song kept rolling, Jazmine's voice curling around the room like velvet smoke. Ari swayed with you, the press of your soft belly against his hard on almost unbearable, but he held on. Barely. 

He was hanging by a thread, and so were you.

You leaned in close, your voice barely above a breath, “Do you want to go?”

He looked down at you, his gaze unreadable but intense. “Do you?”

Your nails skimmed the back of his neck. “Yes. Please.”

That was all it took.

He laced his fingers through yours and led you out, murmuring quiet goodbyes. Peach smirked knowingly. Mrs. Barnes winked.

But your focus was on Ari, and Ari alone.

—--

Outside, the air was cooler, but your skin was on fire.

Ari hailed a cab, and the second the door clicked shut behind you, it was done. You were on his lap in a heartbeat, his mouth crashing into yours like he needed you to breathe. His hands were everywhere, skimming your thighs, gripping your waist, carding in your hair like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Fuck, Muse,” he groaned between kisses. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You kissed him harder, hungrier.

“Did you get the clarity you were looking for, Ari?”

He leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, right as your hips rolled down on him. His breath hitched.

“Oh, everything’s crystal,” he said, voice thick. “You’re mine.”

His hands clutched you tighter, almost possessive.

“And it’s not just about Barnes lusting after you. I know people want you. Thousands, millions, would sell their souls for just one night with you.”

“I only want you, Ari,” you whispered. “I love you.”

He nodded.

“Exactly. I love you. You love me. That’s it. No one else touches what’s mine. I’ve wasted enough time, now let me show you what that love looks like. If you’ll let me.”

You grinned. “Oh, I’ve been ready.”

His tongue flicked against your earlobe before his teeth closed around it, making you squirm in his lap. Then came the velvet-rough filth, hot and low against your ear.

“Bet your pussy’s soaked. Bet you want me to eat you like an animal and make you cum so hard you forget your name.”

You nodded, helpless and aching.

“Such a fucking cocktease,” he growled. “Need to spank that ass until you’re hot, dripping, and begging.”

Oh. You thought about that. Hard.

Ari cradled your face in one hand and kissed you, deep and wet, tongue fucking your mouth as his hands moved you against the thick length straining beneath his zipper.

“Tonight, you’re mine. You’re gonna do exactly what I say. Give me everything. You know you need it.”

“I do need it,” you breathed. “I want you to fuck me raw.”

Ari broke the kiss slowly, eyes dark and wide, blown with hunger. His jaw clenched like he was barely holding himself back. Then he moved. One arm under your knees, the other around your back, lifting you like nothing as the cab came to a stop.

He kissed you in the elevator.

Down the hall.

All the way to his bedroom.

When he kicked the door shut behind you, he set you down beside the bed and pulled the chair close, sitting with his knees spread, leaning forward like a man ready to devour.

You stood frozen, mind blank with need. You were soaked.

“Run that back for me, Muse,” he said, voice low and smug.

“What did you say in the taxi?”

“I…” 

You couldn’t find the words, not when his hand was trailing up your thigh.

He grinned like the devil. 

“My sweet, lust-drunk Muse. So easily distracted.”

His eyes burned into yours. 

“What do you want me to do?”

You wanted to rile him, provoke him the way he always did you.

“I want you to fuck me raw. We’re in a relationship now. And neither of us has been with anyone else since we started hooking up, right?”

His gaze sharpened. “Right.”

“And I have that other method of birth control that I told you about.”

You pointed at his lap. 

“So I want to feel every thick, beautiful ridge of that cock you’ve got locked up in there. Stretch me out so good, Ari. Gonna hurt a little, but I’m so wet…”

He interrupted you.

“Take off your dress.”

You unzipped it and let it fall. You were in black lace panties. No bra. Your nipples, tight and aching begged for his touch.

Ari groaned like he was in pain. 

“It’s a fucking crime for you to wear clothes.”

You stepped between his legs, lips curled in a smile.

“I thought the dress was the crime. Which is it?”

His eyes narrowed. 

“Keep bratting and I’ll take that as consent for a spanking.”

You bit your lip, fighting a grin.

“Can I touch you?” you asked sweetly.

You knew why he was grumpy, his cock looked huge and painfully trapped.

“Stop trying to take control,” he warned. “Or I’ll shut that mouth with something better.”

“Oh no,” you murmured, mock-innocent. “Punish me.”

He gave you a dark look.

“Play with those sweet nipples,” he ordered. “They’ve been teasing me since day one. Begging to be sucked until they’re swollen and juicy.”

You obeyed, rolling them between your fingers, gasping when your pussy clenched hard around nothing.

“Fuck, baby,” Ari rasped. “You’re unreal.”

He watched for a beat, then said, “Feed them to me.”

Your pulse jumped. You leaned in, offering him your breast. He held your gaze as he licked slowly under your nipple, then pulled it between his teeth.

You moaned. Loudly.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured around your flesh. “You love being worshipped, don’t you, Muse?”

He sucked hard, and the pleasure echoed down to your clit. When he pulled back with a wet pop, his eyes were heavy lidded and his lips were wet and glistening.

He looked up at you like chaos incarnate.

“Those panties still dry?”

You were already sliding them down before he finished the sentence. You’d waxed recently. He hadn’t seen your pussy in weeks. Ari stared like he was witnessing a miracle. 

“Jesus Christ. How can anyone be so fucking perfect?”

He reached for you but stopped himself. 

“Touch yourself. I want to watch. Show me how you got off without me.”

He guided your hand between your legs. You slipped two fingers through your slick folds, moaning, shuddering. Then he grabbed your wrist and sucked your fingers into his mouth with his eyes closed. 

When he looked at you again, you nearly came. You dropped to your knees without being asked.

“Let me suck your cock, Ari. Please.”

“Oh? Are you begging?” 

His voice cracked with restraint.

You nodded, wide-eyed. He sat down and let you have him.

You unfastened his pants and took him out. Your breasts brushed his thighs, and your mouth kissed along the base of his cock, then slowly, sinfully, your lips wrapped around the head.

His breath left him in a moan.

“Oh, fuck.”

“You good?” you murmured around him.

“Fucking perfect. Keep going.”

You took him deeper, letting your lips drag over every thick inch of him. Your lips were stretched thin around his girth and he gripped your hair, anchoring himself, watching you wreck him.

“Take more of me.”

Your pussy pulsed as you obeyed. He pushed your head down, hips barely moving, letting your tongue swirl around him as you swallowed.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he warned, voice rough.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and take it all?”

You didn’t answer. You just took him deeper.

His whole body jerked as he spilled into your mouth, moaning your name. There was so much after so long. You swallowed what you could and what overflowed trickled down your chin.

Ari dragged you up and kissed your filthy mouth.

“Thank you for that,” he whispered. “Now I can eat you out properly.”

He jerked his head toward his king size.

“Bed. Now.”

You crawled backward, legs shaking. He stroked himself back to full hardness as you got into position.

“Touch yourself,” he commanded. “Let me see my fucking meal.”

You dipped two fingers in your pussy, then dragged them up to your clit. 

“I only get this wet for you, Ari.”

You traced slow circles over your slick bundle of nerves, already panting.

“Say it,” he growled.

“This pussy is yours.”

Ari climbed onto the bed, crouching between your legs.

“You’re dangerous, Muse,” he whispered, kissing your stomach. “And so fucking beautiful it’s killing me.”

Ari dove in. His mouth licked into you like he was starved and his tongue was everywhere and his fingers pushed into you, opening you up carefully.

“So tight, baby,” he murmured. “Gotta stretch you out for my cock.”

You locked eyes with him as his mouth sealed around your clit, sucking hard, fingers curling deep inside you.

Your hips bucked. You cried out. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer.

He didn’t stop. And he didn’t let you come down. He worked you open until you were chanting his name.

“Mine,” he said again, between licks.

You were already climbing again when his thumb joined his tongue. That was all it took. You shattered with a gasp, legs trembling, pussy clenching hard around his fingers.

And he didn’t stop.

Your vision blurred. Your breath came in broken gasps as your orgasm hit again and again, his tongue and thumb coaxing every tremor from your body like he owned it. 

Because right now, he did.

You were still twitching when he finally pulled back, lips wet, beard slick with your release. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up at you like a man starved for more.

“I could die between your legs,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ve got other plans tonight.”

You barely had time to recover before he rose up over you, his body heat covering yours. His heavy cock dragged through your slick folds, and you both moaned at the contact.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly.

You did.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he said. “No condom. Nothing between us. You sure, Muse?”

You nodded, breathless. 

“Yes. I want to feel everything.”

His gaze searched yours like he needed to be absolutely certain. 

Then his voice dropped, “Then spread your legs for me. I want to see how deep I can go.”

You obeyed, opening for him, baring everything. Ari gripped his cock and lined it up, the broad head teasing your entrance. He pressed in slowly, inch by thick inch, and you cried out, head falling back against the pillows.

“Oh my god. Ari…”

You were struggling to take him, but your slick made him slide.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re so tight, so warm, so fucking wet.”

He eased in further, stretching you to the edge of pain, but your body welcomed him, slick and ready. When he bottomed out, hips flush with yours, he paused, trembling with restraint.

“Say it,” he gritted out. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped. “Only yours.”

He stayed there, buried deep, his chest pressed to yours, both of you shaking. Then he kissed you filthily and moved.

The first thrust was deep and controlled. The second made your toes curl. By the third, he was fucking you like he’d been waiting years.

Your nails dug into his back. He didn’t care. He wanted the marks.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned into your neck. 

“Taking me so deep, baby. You love this cock, don’t you?”

“Yes…yes…so much…don’t stop…”

He was relentless. His pelvis slapped yours, his hips snapping harder, faster. Every stroke dragged a cry from you. His hand came up to your throat, just holding you. 

Showing you who you belonged to.

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching your face twist with pleasure.

“All fucked out already?”

You shook your head. Barely.

“I want more,” you breathed. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

His teeth grazed your jaw, then your shoulder. 

“You want me to come inside you, don’t you, Muse? Fill you up. Mark you with my cum. Claim you?”

“Yes, Ari, please, I want it…”

Your next orgasm hit so hard you sobbed. Your legs locked around his waist, back arching off the bed as your cunt milked his cock like it never wanted to let him go.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck, Muse…”

Ari growled as he thrust once, twice more, and spilled into you hotly. He held you still, buried to the hilt, pulsing with every wave of his orgasm. He stayed like that, trembling, forehead against yours, both of you panting like you’d just survived the end of the world.

After a long beat, he kissed you softly. Then he pulled out slowly, groaning as your pussy clenched around him one last time. His cum dripped from between your thighs, warm and messy.

He watched it, fascinated, tracing your swollen, messy pussy lips with his fingers

“Look at you,” he whispered reverently. “So fucking full. That’s mine.”

You couldn’t even speak. But you didn’t have to. He gathered you into his arms, kissed your temple, your shoulder, the side of your breast.

You drifted, boneless, wrapped in Ari’s arms. His skin was still damp with sweat, the weight of his body comforting against yours. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just held you while your heartbeats slowly found the same rhythm.

“I missed you,” he murmured eventually, voice low and rough with emotion. 

“Not just this. You. Everything.”

You curled into him, letting your fingers trace the edge of his jaw, the slope of his collarbone. 

“I know. I missed you too.”

He tilted your chin up to look at him, his eyes softer now. No hunger. Just devotion.

“We’re just getting started,” he murmured. “I’m not done proving it yet.”

“I want to go slow this time,” he said. “I want to make love to you.”

You blinked. Your heart rate increased.

“You already did.”

He gave you a crooked smile. 

“Not like that. That was… claiming you. Letting everything out. This will be me showing you I’m not going anywhere.”

He leaned in and kissed you sweetly. It melted you. You nodded.

“I want to feel all of you again,” you whispered.

Ari rolled you onto your back with a gentle touch, like you were made of glass. He kissed every part of you he could reach, your forehead, cheeks, shoulders, the insides of your wrists like he was memorizing you all over again.

When he slid into you, it was slow, so achingly careful you almost cried. He didn’t thrust. He just pressed in, inch by inch, eyes locked on yours like he was watching the exact moment your soul wrapped around his.

You were stunned. He filled you so completely it felt like coming home. You were sore but the pleasure was so sweet. Ari’s hands gripped yours and pinned them above your head.

“This is what love looks like,” he whispered. “You. Me. This.”

He moved inside you with a rhythm that wasn’t fast or frantic, but deeply connected. His hips rocked into yours slowly, the tenderness building and building.

Every time he sank into you, your breath hitched. Every time he pulled back, your body ached for him. He kissed your eyelids. Your temple. The corner of your mouth.

“I’ve never loved anyone like this,” he said.

You could feel it in the way he held you, the way he moved with you. Like this was sacred. Tears welled in your eyes and he saw them.

“Oh, Baby,” he murmured. “You okay?”

You nodded, breath shaky. 

“I just… I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s so much.”

He kissed the tears away, never stopping the slow, tender thrusts that were unraveling you all over again.

“I’ve got you,” he promised. “I’ll always have you.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

“I want to come with you,” you whispered.

He pressed his forehead to yours. “Then let go for me, Muse.”

His hand slipped between you, stroking your clit in soft, perfect circles, and the pleasure spiraled until you shattered beneath him, quietly this time, a whisper of his name on your lips as your whole body clenched around him, pulsing with release.

Ari groaned and followed you over that edge seconds later, spilling inside you again as he buried his face in your neck and held on.

This time, neither of you moved after. Not for a long while. Your fingers traced shapes on his back, and his hand stayed tangled in your hair.

No words. No need.

Just love.

And the quiet that follows when two people are exactly where they’re meant to be.

——-

Omghsh. 🥹

Muse: Seven

[lulanixoxo]

✨BIMBO READER FINSTA PART TWO ✨

Summary: A second peek into Bimbo Reader Finsta post and favorite dynamic with the OBX characters. Including some potential love interest with few of the guys.

Featuring : Rafe Cameron - JJ Maybank - John B Routledge - Pope Heyward x Bimbo Reader (briefly: Sarah Cameron, Cleo Anderson, Kiara Carrera, Topper Thornton, and Kelce Smith)

The Warning Content : +18 MDNI & Ageless Blogs will be blocked immediately (please put your age in your bio) this includes suggestive content, foul language, pervy Rafe & JJ yet again towards Bimbo Reader, Flirty/Suggestive Comments, Suggestive Mature Pictures included, and lmk if more need to be added.

Author Note : You’re in for a surprise at the end! Enjoy.

papajayjj 2d

I might need a visual example ❤️98

Reply

alluringbbydoll_bathwater 1d ❤️by author

you can’t fight all of us. ❤️501

kiecarrera 1d

good luck with the army ❤️210

thepope 1d

it’s been two days since JJ was active… ❤️96

johnbee.routledge 1mi

sigh. time to make a missing person sign.

rafecameronofficial 3 sec

no need to. he’s in good hands.

alluring.bbydoll 2sec

Why did I see JJ get yanked into a white van and drive off. Did John B upgrade the van?

reply

alluringbbydoll_bathwater 1sec

you’re welcome & @ rafecameronofficial send to my cash app now or you’re next.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

rafecameronofficial 2d

Delete this shit now. I can see your thong ❤️18

Reply

alluring.bbydoll 1d

But it’s too cute to hide☹️🩷 ❤️301

rafecameronofficial 1d

why you let this dirty Pogue take it though. ❤️20

johnbee.routledge 1d

I’m literally right here😶 ❤️21

papajayjj 1min

this might come in handy later👀. ❤️3

Reply

sar.bear 2min

ewww Jay. this is public yk🤮

papajayjj 1min

Just cause I said it publicly doesn’t change that Rafe, John B, and Pope agreed by liking my comment

rafecameronofficial 1sec

remind me to beat your ass Maybank.

johnbee.routledge 1sec

agreed w/ @ thepope

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

papajayjj 3d ❤️by author

Ngl it does look better🥴🍑 ❤️244

reply

alluring.bbydoll 2d

Thank youu + I love the peach emoji it’s so cutee. ❤️133

thepope 2d

do you ever live a normal day without hitting on her? ❤️10

johnbee.routledge 3d

its JJ. what do you think?

itspapajayjj 1d

coming from the guys that were thinking the same about the 🍑 emoji ❤️12

alluring.bbydoll

*gasp* you think it’s cute too? @johnbee.routledge. @ the pope @ papajayjj

kiecarrera 1min

10 second warning from me, Cleo & Sarah @ each of you idiots

Reply

papajayjj 1sec

WAIT—

rafecameronofficial 2min

this is why she’s better off with me.

sar.bear 1sec

you’re no better with Kelce and Topper

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

rafecameronofficial 1d ❤️by author

fuck. you’re perfect baby. ❤️19

alluring.bbydoll 1min

thank youuu Rafey😘

papajayjj 1d ❤️by author

the girls lookin good 🍒😩. ❤️12

alluring.bbydoll 1d

but Kie, Sarah or Cleo aren’t in the picture? ❤️112

papajayjj 1min

it’s a good thing you’re gorgeous

alluring.bbydoll 1sec

awe, thank you Jay😚

johnbee.routledge 1d ❤️by author

look good doll🩷 ❤️11

alluring.bbydoll 1min ❤️by author

thank you 🐝 💛

thepope 1d ❤️by author

remember to clean it like I showed you

alluring.bbydoll 3min

but what about my nipple ones?

thepope 1sec

Kiara here. I think Pope is broken but I can help.

alluring.bbydoll 1sec

ok, thank you Kie-Kie😚

[immediately after 20 missed calls & text messages from Rafe, 15 missed calls and text messages from JJ, and 17 missed calls and text messages from Rafe, and one from Pope ]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

rafecameronoffical: I better get the first peak but congrats

papajayjj: I knew you could do it mama🥴🩷

johnbee.routledge : congrats doll. celebrate soon yeah?

thepope : congratulations Princess🩷👑

[ rafe may or may not have paid one of the photographers for the first glimpse already after this ]

[ as for the other three, they had it set in mind to put up the picture somewhere in the Chateau already…for support ofc ]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

rafecameronofficial 1d

I’m not sure which to be concerned about this time, you in that fucking thing called a shirt or you changing your hair again. ❤️15

alluring.bbydoll 1d

Oops. Forgot to add #tbt ❤️128

rafecameronofficial 1d

princess…it’s a Tuesday.

alluringbbydollstan 2min

never question our queen. especially clothing choices, she can never do no wrong. ❤️150

alluringbbydollupdates 1min

@ alluringbbydollstan agreed. she can commit murder by ‘accident’ and we’d defend her innocence. ❤️200

rafecameronofficial 1sec

you know what. you’re right. learned from Maybank mistakes after the last time.

sar.bear 1sec

📸 caught in 4k. admitting someone is right for the first time?

rafecameronofficial 1sec

literally who fucking asked you?

papajayjj 1d

the color is the whole rainbow or wtv ❤️222

johnbee.routledge 1d

here we go again😒 ❤️22

notcleoanderson 1d

still hasn’t learned frown the last few times🫥. ❤️101

thepope 1d

this time they can keep you man.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

papajayjj 10min

WHAT. SINXE WHEN? ❤️15

reply

johnbee.routledge 3min

what a rude awakening today. ❤️5

reply

thepope 2min

oh wow this is surprise. ❤️4

reply

rafecameronofficial 1sec

I hope it’s not who I fucking think it is.

barry129 1sec

surprise country club. guess your game isn’t good as mine.

papajayjj 1sec

SHE PICKED YOU?! OUT OF ALL PPL?!

rafecameronofficial 1sec

count your fucking days Barry.

alluring.bbydoll 1sec

I’ll be counting. Now let me back to my girl - B

[ alluring.bbydoll has turned off comments ]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

BONUS: the previous mention VS collab in the first FINSTA post shown. Chopped but I tried ok😑

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁｡ ﾟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Author Note: I hope you enjoy this much as I have because it was definitely fun doing the edits for FINSTA post show with OBX characters. Some may come off bit of OOC but not everyone can write accurately so to each their own.

©️ 𝑳𝑼𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑿𝑶𝑿𝑶