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#i FINALLY drew this correctly

thunderjackal · 18 days

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between gunpowder tim and hozier i am really seeing a pattern in the guys i am madly in love with

anyway the mechanisms brainrot has taken over might draw some of the others in the next few days

did you guys know gunpowder tims icon on google is this. all i can say is yeah yeah it be like that and i agree

#gunpowder tim #toy soldier #the toy soldier #the mechanisms #the mechs #the mechs fanart #the mechanisms band #thunders funky art #maybe the mechs fandom will finally teach me how to spell soldier correctly #yes every time i drew tims goggles they look different #no i do not want to talk about it #the urge for a gunpowder tim or jonny d'villle cosplay is so strong

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washeduphazbin · 3 months

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Hi, I would like to ask for a smut from Adam x fem Reader, his dear wife is going to pay him a visit at his work and in the end they almost get paid for lute

New Eve (Adam x Fem! Wife! Reader)

-SMUT AHEAD MINORS DNI-

Other warnings: Adam Being Adam

I hope I wrote this ask and understood it correctly! Adam is my guilty pleasure. I love men who are dumb as rocks and who are going to be absolutely leashed by even stronger women.

REQUESTS OPEN

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

There's a saying that all good things come in threes, Lilith, Eve, and you. Adam's final wife, who physically couldn't be swayed by Lucifer because Adam had met you in Heaven. When you passed through the pearly gates, you were greeted by none other than the first human himself. You were in awe for about two seconds until you quickly gathered the first man was a complete and utter dickhead. He seemed to falter when you walked past him to greet an angel named Lute, Adam's second in command. She tensed a little as you introduced yourself, ignoring Adam's protests that dubbed you a Queen Mega Bitch.

All this to say, it took about three months before Lute caught Adam sticking his tongue down your throat with you latched onto him like a koala. You made a distressed sound at being caught while listening to Adam laugh above you. You distinctly heard him call your mouth as good as a vagina while pressing a kiss to your hairline. "Adam!" You hissed, pulling on the horns of his mask as he let out a defiant sound, "Inappropriate."

"Ugh yeah, that's kind of my thing, sugar tits."

"You need to not make it your thing, or this thing doesn't happen." You drew your line in the metaphorical sand before marching out of the room, faintly hearing Lute argue about Adam's behavior behind you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾��∙⊱⋅•⋅

Two years later, you were Adam's new 'Eve' in heaven with two golden rings to prove the love that formed between the two of you...somehow. Did the both of you fight constantly? Yes. Did you want to wring his neck every time he opened the gaping hole he called a mouth? Also Yes. But did you love him...unfortunately. Even though he had a laundry list of bad habits, a vulgar mouth, and gross hobbies, he had his moments. He was protective, fiercely so, and despite his fuck boy personality, he only had his sights set on you. Lute often asked you what you saw in Adam, and you'd reluctantly sigh and give a tired grin, "He makes me laugh. Plus, with proper motivation, he's putty in my hand." Lute made a sound of understanding, nodding her head,

"Ah, yes. Use your feminine wiles to control those weaker than you, even if they may be physically stronger. We must use what we are given as women. Well, you must. I'm very strong without using that to my advantage."

"Yes, exactly," You snickered as Lute stopped outside Adam's office. "Which is exactly why Sera put me in charge of convincing Adam to meet with The Morningstar's daughter." You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "I'll see you back here later, then?"

"Yes, ma'am." Lute bowed, "I wish you luck...you'll need it. He's in one of his moods." before taking off into the sky and down the hall. You reached up with a stretch of your arms, fluffing up your wings to look extra pretty before knocking on Adam's door,

"Adam." You hummed, knocking on the grand marble door once before opening it. You leaned against the entranceway, wings brushing against the floor, as his head shot up.

"Sugartits!"

"Not my name!" You dodged Adam's hug with a flurry of your wings; he grinned, shoving the door closed with his hip. "Adam," you said in warning as he used his angelic magic to fly towards you and trap you within his arms.

"and what would you prefer I call you? My Bitch? Wifey?" He mused, peppering sloppy kisses against your cheek and down your neck. "We could go with Queen or Goddess, preferably." You shot back, dragging Adam down to sit in his chair; you hummed gently, removing his mask from his face. He leaned back, kicking his legs up on the desk as you slid down into his chest, straddling his hips. You hummed, running your fingers through his brown hair, and he melted into your touch, "My name works, too."

"I guess we can settle on Queen. Does that make me your King?" Adam preened as you scratched under his chin,

"Without a doubt...but we must talk about the Young Morningstar."

"Who?" He made a faux confused face which you raised an eyebrow back at in response, "Ugh, Lucifer's cunt daughter. What about her?"

"She's been begging for a meeting. I suggest you meet with her." Your lips began to trail down his neck, nipping at his skin as his body flushed.

"But that's so much work, sugar." He groaned, running his clawed hands through your hair, "Can't I just say fuck off back to hell we're gonna exterminate all of you regardless."

"Sera wants you to at least meet with her one time; she's giving you a lot of trust to handle this on your own."

"And if I do what you ask, what'll you give me?" He mused, eyes sparkling. You huffed, hitting him with the back of your wing, and he laughed, "Come on, you gotta sweeten the deal for me, mama."

"You're such a bastard." You huffed, moving to pull your hair out of your face. He moved his legs to the ground, and you could slide between his knees. "Robe off unless you want dirty," you commanded as Adam fumbled out of it quickly.

"I love you~" He leaned back with a sly grin, hand reaching up to move your head closer to his lip. Your fingers spread across his thighs, and you huffed softly, looking up at him.

"I love you more. If I do this for you, you promise to meet with young Lady Morningstar?"

"You can't just fuck me because you love me?"

"Bite me." You sneered, but there wasn't any malice in your voice as he stood up, picking you up off the ground and pressing your back against his desk.

"Oh, it would be my pleasure. I can't say your robes will survive, though I might need to get you some new ones." Adam popped the buttons on your robe, allowing your body to be laid bare for his eyes. He watched your breathing hitch as his long claw trailed down your neck to your chest. "Fuck I love these puppies, you know that?" Adam grinned, grabbing fistfuls of your breasts, squeezing and kneading to his heart's content. Your husband was like an oversized golden retriever. When he sees something he likes, he obsesses over it like a man deranged. His favorite playthings of yours were your tits and ass. "Any meetings?"

"None. I'm yours for the rest of the day. You can mark me how you'd like; I'm yours, my husband. Well, until you meet with the Princess."

"Fuckkkkk yeah, baby, come 'ere." Adam dove between your breasts, and he felt you suck in air through your teeth. He began to bite and suck on the supple flesh of your chest; you keened, arching into his mouth, hands tangling in his brown hair. You could tell from the way his teeth would graze against your nipples and your flesh he was doing everything in his power to leave marks on the skin.

"Adam...ngh." You panted, feeling his hand move down from your breast to slide down your stomach and between your legs. "Shit," You squeaked, feeling him tease your clit with his thumb and forefinger with a dopey grin on his face.

"There's my favorite girl," He flicked your nub skillfully; for being a massive asshole, this prick sure knew where to find your clit. One finger slid between your folds, and you tossed your head against the cold marble desk. "Damn, only one finger has you acting up? I must not be treating you good enough," He purred as another finger entered you, stretching you out to be big enough for, 'the first ever man god created.' Adam watched with delight as your wings spread out and trembled, glowing with a soft golden glow. "That's it, you're being such a good girl for me. Are you ready?"

"Yes." You panted, "Adam, please."

"God, you beg so nicely, you little slut," His hand reached up to grip your throat, causing you to let out a desperate whine, hips bucking into his fingers. "Beg Harder," He demanded, moving your hand to palm him through his trousers, stiff and aching. "Look at how hard you make me. How desperate. I need you to worship your god."

"Yes, sir." You purred, "You're my God, Adam. I need you, I'd worship for your love, your touch, your dick." You dragged your hand up your chest, playing with the swell of your own breast, "Don't you want to make me happy, baby?"

"More than anything." Adam's eyes lit up in elation, "Stay with me. Don't go to Lucifer. You're mine." He snarled, hands around your throat, "Say it."

"I'm with you. Only you. Forever Adam." His entire body seemed to relax when you said that, pressing gentle kisses to your cheek and lips. "I love you, you annoying Dickweed."

"Love you more, Sugartits." He grinned cheekily before lowering himself to you with a hiss-like laugh. "Tight as ever, and that's why I love you,"

"If you keep talking nonsense while you're literally inside me, I'll cut off your dick,"

"Sounds kinky."

"Adam."

"Fine, Fine, you're so vanilla." He mused, albeit his tone was much softer, fonder than his earlier teasing. His hands grabbed under your knees and pressed you close with a snap of his hips. You both let out a moan, yours higher pitched and needier, bucking your hips, searching for more friction than he was currently providing. You always savored the way he was able to fill you up, he wasn't the longest but god was he thick filling you in all the right ways. Every time his hips snapped into you, you could feel just how deep he kissed your cervix. "Yeah, you like that?" He panted, "Like how deep I'm getting? From the way you're dripping, you're practically soaking through my table. Your vag is like a vice, babe, so tight for this big cock."

"Hm. Your words always know how to turn me o-ng-ff." You moaned out this end at a particularly sharp thrust of his hips. "Fuck you," You panted as he grinned down at you,

"Good news, wifey, that's exactly what we're doing-"

"Sir!" You let out a scream as Lute slammed the door of his office open, you climbed against Adam's body like an embarrassed Nun. He groaned, still inside you but having the decency to cover you with his wings.

"What do you need, Lute? I'm a little busy getting it on with my sexy ass wife." Adam complained, motioning to the top of your head, to which you made an embarrassed sound of mortification. "Can this be rescheduled or-"

"The Princess of Hell is here, Sir. She just showed up-"

"Are you for real telling me that the bitch Princess of Hell is seriously cucking me right now?!"

"...Yes."

"(Y/n) If I killed her for interrupting us, would you be pissed?"

"Beyond Adam."

"Fuck."

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #x reader #fem reader #adam x reader #adam x you #hazbin hotel adam x reader #smut #requests open #reader insert #hazbin hotel smut

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spider-stark · 2 months

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LITTLE DRAGON

Aegon II Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Summary - Your elder brother, Jace, attempts to teach you how to wield a sword. Aegon, your new betrothed, interrupts.

Warnings - slight Jace x Reader but you can ignore that alright

Word Count - 3.8k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

“You aren’t tucking your elbows!”

Jacaerys shouted from across the training yard, sparing your horrid fighting stance a half-moment’s glance before shifting his focus back to the weapons table laid before him, enamored by all the fresh steel he had to choose from.

Sweat dripped from your hairline, trickling down your temples and giving your reddened cheeks a glossy sheen. The sun’s rays felt particularly relentless today, blistering down upon the yard and reminding you of just how much you hated summers spent in King’s Landing, already dreading the thought of being stuck here.

You had grown accustomed to the cool, dampness of the island you had called home for the last several years. Dragonstone was almost always engulfed in a cover of clouds, and the soft breeze rolling-in from the Blackwater ensured that the warmer months were never quite as stifling as they were in King’s Landing.

“I am tucking my elbows!” You howled at him, gritting your teeth against the growing pain in your biceps.

The two of you had been out in the yard since sunrise, going over the basics of swordplay over and over and over again. By this point it felt like your brother’s instructions had been all but carved into your mind—plant your feet, square your shoulders, bend your knees, and tuck your elbows.

Remembering the steps hadn’t been the hard part, however. The hard part was actually doing them—and doing them right.

“No,” Jace grinned as he plucked a delicately forged rapier from the table. “You’re not.”

You blew out a breath, frustrated as you dropped the faulty form all together and let your arms hang limp at your sides. The training sword hung heavy from your hand, the tip of its blunt blade digging into the dirt.

“This is ridiculous,” you huffed, watching as your brother drew closer to you, admiring the nimble blade in his hand. “I’ve bent my elbows a thousand different ways—and none of them have been right!”

“That’s the issue! You’re bending your elbows, not tucking them!” Jace reprimanded, though his voice remained gentle, as it oft was when speaking to you.

Your patience was wearing thin as your frustration grew, aggravated by not only the sweltering heat and swordplay, but also yourself. Your brothers had mastered the basics of fighting when they were less than half your age—and yet you couldn’t even manage a half-decent defensive stance.

Exasperated and nearly at the end of your rope, you knew that you probably looked as miserable as you sounded. “Are bending and tucking not the same thing?”

“Bending your elbows is a subtle movement,” Jace started to explain, “it helps you maintain some degree of flexibility. But tucking your elbows is more rigid, making for a better defense mechanism. By keeping your elbows close to your body, you’re tightening your posture and making it harder for your enemies to land a blow.”

Adjusting your grip on the training sword, you brought it back up into a ready position, both hands now clutching the hilt. “So all I need to do is pull my elbows in closer?”

“Exactly!”

Focusing on each of the movements, you slid one foot slightly ahead of the other, balancing yourself as he’d instructed earlier. You took care to keep your knees bent, just enough to ensure that you could easily dodge or leap out of the way of an incoming strike.

Once you were confident that you had done those steps correctly, watching as Jace nodded along in silent approval, you lifted the sword so that the pommel fell just a few inches below your breastbone, the point rising high above your head.

Then, finally, you tried tucking your elbows as close to your sides as you could, attempting to block as much of your torso as possible from incoming attacks.

“Like this?” You asked him, gritting your teeth against the throbbing in your arms, still so unused to the weight of the weapon.

Jace cocked his head, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Well…”

“Seven Hells, Jace!” You howled at him, trying to hold the position, “There are only so many ways to move your elbows!”

“Yes, but now it’s not your elbows causing the problem!” He retaliated, extending his arm and using the tip of his rapier to point to your legs. “Standing like you are now, if you had to dodge your legs would probably lock up and slow you down. You need to drive your knees further apart!”

You did as you were told, albeit a bit begrudgingly.

“Better?” You hissed through your teeth, ignoring the way your legs trembled beneath you.

Jace studied you, eyes narrowing as he scanned every inch of your form. “Push your shoulders further back,” he instructed, “and straighten your back out a little bit.”

Again, you shifted into the new movements, adjusting and tweaking the positions to his liking. Your fingers hurt now, too, and painful blisters had already begun to form on your palms.

“Straighter,” Jace snapped, still finding your posture to be sub-par. “And try to keep your toes pointed towards-”

Your frustration finally peaked as you fell out of the intricate form, nearly doubling over as an exhausted groan ripped from your throat. Jace’s eyes widened at the sound, doubling back slightly.

“And what next?!” You cried loudly, letting your sword fall to the ground. Throwing your aching arms out to the side in a dramatic display, you sneered at him, “Shall I hop on one-fucking-leg and shake my ass?”

A sigh escaped your brother's parted lips, shaking his head as he leaned down to pick up your discarded weapon. Regret already seeped into your mind and dulled your anger as you began to prepare for the lecture that was surely about to leave his mouth—one that was no doubt about the level of discipline required for swordsmanship, and how you needed to maintain a level head.

But, before he had the chance, another voice broke through.

“Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt to try,” Aegon quipped from somewhere behind you, sounding far too amused with himself. “Go on,” he urged, “give it a shot. I for one would love to watch.”

With clenched fists you spun around to face him, glaring into his lilac eyes, resenting the way they sparkled with something like delight. It wasn’t until his gaze traveled south that you lost your cool, however, noticing how he eyed the low neckline of your tunic, watching as sweat slipped between your breasts.

But as soon as you took a step towards him, fully prepared to strike the arrogant Prince, Jace snatched your wrist and held you back. Level-headed enough to think for the both of you, he refused to let you do anything that would give Queen Alicent further reason to despise you—even if he would have loved to watch his sister beat Aegon’s ass.

“You’re interrupting our training,” Jace told him, keeping his voice respectful despite the undeniable edge of frustration.

“Am I?” Aegon pursed his lips, staring at the training sword that was still discarded on the ground, abandoned when Jace realized he would have to hold you back from your uncle. “Doesn’t seem like you’re doing a very good job, then. It’s easier to fight when the sword is in your hand-”

Jace interrupted, “We should really get back to work,”

“No need,” your uncle swiftly retorted, flashing a cocky smirk that only served to make your rage grow further. “I actually came here hoping for a moment alone with my niece,” he continued, pinning your brother with a stare, “you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

You recognized the trap that he had set for your brother. If it were anyone other than Aegon, Jace would have wasted little time in telling them off, but this was different. Rejecting Aegon would create conflict—the one thing your mother had asked you and your siblings to avoid, if only to avoid upsetting the beast that was your step-grandmother, the Queen Alicent.

“Now isn’t a good time,” Jace tried to protest, searching for some peaceful way to turn Aegon away. “You saw her just now, didn’t you? She’s clearly in need of more practice.”

You were silent, primarily because you could feel Jace’s fingernails digging into your skin, a warning to stay silent. When it came to you, Jace wasn’t violent by any means, but he was more than willing to be assertive if it meant keeping you safe.

Aegon drew a breath, still wearing that sly smile that made your skin crawl. “Very well,” he said, and you felt Jace’s grip on your wrist loosen at his assumed victory. “Then I’ll teach her myself.”

Jace’s eyes grew wide, a muscle in his jaw feathering. Refusing to back down, his mouth fell open to speak, trying to form some other nonsense excuse to keep you from being alone with Aegon—but you stopped him.

“It’s fine, Jace,” you told him, slipping your wrist from his grasp. “If Aegon believes himself capable of teaching me, then let him.”

The look on Jace’s face stubbornly pleaded with you to take it back— to say that you were done with training for the day, to say anything that would keep you from being stuck with him.

But you refused, steeling yourself and meeting his gaze with an equally unrelenting stubbornness. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to avoid Aegon forever, and you refused to let your uncle think that he had enough of an effect on you that you would resort to cowardly excuses to get out of being alone with him.

Jace leaned closer to you and asked in a low voice, “Are you sure?”

You grimaced at the question. “Yes,” you snapped, not wanting to appear as the image of a helpless little girl in front of your uncle. But then you saw the hurt flash in your brother’s dark, doe eyes and immediately felt guilty for it. “I’ll come and find you when I’m done,” you reached for his hand, squeezing it in yours, “I promise.”

His brows furrowed, still unconvinced that it was a good idea to leave you alone with Aegon, but aware that he wouldn’t be able to change your mind. You smiled, a sweet and gentle kind of smile that was reserved only for your older brother.

“You heard the woman, Jacaerys,” Aegon waved an impatient hand, sneering at Jace. “Leave me and my betrothed.”

The word betrothed seemed to drip from his tongue like tar—a nasty and vile sort of sound that was used only to further antagonize Jace.

Jace went rigid beside you, his cheeks growing red with anger. But his hand was still clasped in yours, and so you gave it another squeeze. “Go,” you told him, having switched roles with him and now being the one to counsel him in restraint. “I’ll be fine.”

You knew that Jace didn’t fully believe you—not because he didn’t trust you, but because he didn’t trust Aegon. And while you were surrounded by a plethora of weapons that could be used in self-defense should Aegon try something, Jace also knew just how lousy you were at properly using them.

Even so, he didn’t argue, biting his tongue and stifling his rage in favor of the peace your mother so desperately wanted.

But even the prospect of peace wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling his hand from your grip and replacing it with the rapier he had chosen earlier, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned in, “If he tries something,” he whispered, “then shove the pointy end through his throat.”

You held in a laugh, gripping the hilt tightly. “Got it.”

With that, Jace stepped back and turned to take his leave, roughly knocking into your uncle’s shoulder as he pushed past him. Aegon cut his eyes, but you found it hard to tell whether it was because of Jace’s insolence or if it was because of how close you were with your brother.

You didn’t care enough to ask.

“Was there a need to provoke him?” You scoffed as soon as Jace was out of sight.

Aegon feigned innocence. “Well, it’s not my fault that your brother is so easily provoked,” he said with a roguish grin. “He’s the one that’s so greedy with your time. I wouldn’t have to interrupt your pathetic sparring sessions if there was ever a time where Jace wasn’t stuck up your ass.”

“Our betrothal was proposed five years ago,” you told him plainly, narrowing your eyes, “if you were that desperate to spend time with me, then I’m sure there were plenty of opportunities.”

“You’ve been on Dragonstone.”

“And you have a dragon,” you reminded him, fully aware that the flight to the island was quite short from King’s Landing.

Aegon lifted one of his shoulders in a lazy gesture. “And you have a Jace. If I had been foolish enough to venture to Dragonstone these last few years, then I likely wouldn’t have left with my head.”

A scowl etched onto your face at that, fully aware that he wasn’t entirely wrong for assuming that.

While it had been five years since your betrothal to Aegon had been proposed by your mother, hoping that it might bridge the chasm that divided your family, it hadn’t been until this past month that the Queen Alicent had finally given way and consented to the match. And, if the rumors could be believed, then you had heard that her sudden change in heart was in part due to Aegon’s insistence.

But regardless of any hearsay, you did know one thing for certain—Jace had always held onto the hope that the Queen would reject the proposal. You often told yourself that it was because he didn’t wish to see his little sister wed to your vile uncle, but many others—Aegon included, it seemed—believed that it was because your brother wished to have you for himself, as was the Targaryen way.

You knew that there was merit to those claims, even if you sometimes didn’t want to admit it.

“He wouldn’t have killed you,” you finally settled on an answer, your frustration mounting with each word. “Maimed, maybe, but Jace is no kinslayer.”

Eyeing the rapier in your hand, Aegon asked, “And what about you?”

You paused, glancing at the nimble blade of your weapon.

It was thinner than the training sword you were using—and a lot sharper—but it was awkward to hold, all its weight concentrated towards the hilt rather than distributed throughout. Even if you did want to use it against Aegon, you were probably more likely to hurt yourself than him with how little experience you had and how poorly training with Jace had gone.

After a moment, the corners of your mouth tilted upwards in a twisted imitation of a smile, flashing your teeth at him. “Let’s just say that I’m not my brother,” you answered, purposely vague.

Aegon’s stare narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look intimidated by your declaration. “Then go ahead,” he responded coolly, spreading his arms out wide. “Give it your best shot.”

Your eyes flickered around the yard, realizing for the first time that there were no guards around right now to witness your interaction. If you wanted to kill him, now would be as good a time as any—you could call it an accident, even if Queen Alicent would try to deny it. But due to your poor swordsmanship, it was a believable enough lie that you knew most would believe it; knew that your grandsire, King Viserys, would believe it.

If you killed Aegon now, then you wouldn’t be forced to marry him.

If you killed him, then you knew your mother would sooner betroth you to Jace before ever even considering Aegon’s savage little brother, Aemond.

And that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? Jace was kind and pleasant and the heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Your brother would make you a Queen—a beloved Queen, at that.

And yet…

Aegon snorted a laugh, letting his hands fall when he saw your brow crease, your body unmoving as you refused to lunge for him. “You’re right, you’re not your brother. I might have little good to say about Jacaerys, but he’s undeniably Strong,” he quipped, the mischievous glint in his tone causing your blood to boil, “but not you—you’re just a coward.”

Your heart thrummed wildly in your chest, knuckles turning white as you gripped the hilt of the rapier tighter. Then, without Jace here to hold you back, a primal scream of frustration ripped from your throat as you launched yourself at Aegon.

The rapier’s blade led the way, your movements fueled by a rush of adrenaline. But your arms were weak and your footwork clumsy and predictable, and Aegon easily side-stepped your attack with a smirk.

Breathing heavily, you went to swing the awkward blade again, but Aegon had already made his next move—taking advantage of your lack of speed and coming up beside you, snatching the hilt from your inexperienced grip and disarming you, tossing the weapon a few feet away so that you couldn’t try and get it back from him.

But with your nerves still lit by frustration and a refusal to accept defeat, you curled your fists and aimed for his jaw.

Aegon caught you by the wrists before your knuckles collided with his face. He held fast even as you struggled against his grip—firm but not rough.

“Your brother was right,” he taunted with a laugh when you finally wore yourself out, “you do need practice.”

“Shut up-” you snarled, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

You weren’t used to this.

You weren’t used to fighting, you weren’t used to the heat, and you weren’t used to Aegon—or, at least, you weren’t used to being this close to Aegon.

It suddenly hit you just how intimate the position seemed. Your heaving chest bumped against his as he held you close, his grip on your wrists never loosening, even once you had stopped fighting and he had been able to lower your arms to your sides.

You weren’t sure that you had ever been this close to Aegon—close enough that you could smell the faint trace of mulled wine on his breath—and you felt your pulse skip at the realization, fear settling deep within your bones.

You weren’t afraid of him, you realized, but of the fact that you didn’t quite mind being held by Aegon—not as much as you should have minded it, at least.

“I could help you, you know.” He offered, his lilac eyes flashing with some distant emotion that you couldn’t recognize. “I wasn’t just trying to get rid of your brother when I said that I would teach you how to fight.”

Still pressed close to his chest, you tilted your head back to look up at him, his jaw tightening when you asked, “What do you know about swordplay?”

“I was trained by the Kingsguard,” Aegon reminded you sharply, his offense evident by the sharp crease in his brow.

You gave a dry laugh, thinking back on your childhood prior to moving to Dragonstone. “If memory serves me, you spent more time parading around with courtesan’s than training.”

Your laughter was cut short, breath catching in your throat when you felt Aegon release his hold on your wrists just before one of his hands snapped upwards, his fingers curling around your jaw. His thumb brushed gently against your cheek, and you couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t something intoxicating about the way he held you—his lilac eyes seeming to admire every contour of your face.

“Even so,” he began, his voice hardly a whisper as he ignored your claim, “I still know more than enough about swordplay to teach my helpless little dragon how to defend herself.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks as the pet name slipped his lips. It stirred a hunger within you that you hadn’t known existed, and certainly didn’t expect. Your muscles went slack, relaxing in his grip as your lips parted ever so slightly, your body suddenly urging you to lean in and taste the honey that seemed to drip from his tongue.

But even as you began to oblige with your body’s urges, rising on your toes to meet Aegon’s sweet, wine-stained lips, you heard some familiar voice chime in the back of your mind—urging caution, reminding you of who was holding you right now.

Your deviant uncle—the son of Queen Alicent, who was all but your sweet mother’s sworn enemy. She might have asked you to wed Aegon out of duty, but she certainly hadn’t expected or wanted you to like your uncle, did she? In some twisted way, it felt like a betrayal to her and your true family to allow yourself to find pleasure in this—and yet you couldn’t quite deny the warmth flooding in the pit of your stomach at the feel of his touch against your face.

But, taking advantage of that swift moment of clarity, you forced yourself to take a step back and reclaim some sort of control over yourself. As his hand fell, Aegon stood frozen in the agony of his own perceived rejection as he watched you turn on your heel, walking away from him without so much as a single word.

But to his surprise, instead of exiting the yard altogether, you leaned down and plucked the blunt training sword off the ground where it had been abandoned far earlier. You left the rapier where Aegon had tossed it when he disarmed you, thinking you had no use for a blade that could cause actual injury.

“Alright,” you took a deep breath as you turned back around to face him, offering a weak smile as you swallowed your nerves and said, “If you’re so confident in your skill, then teach me.”

It was Aegon’s turn to pause now, a flicker of doubt dancing in his lilac eyes as his own insecurities continued to bear down on him. While he hadn’t wanted you to walk away, he also hadn’t expected you to say yes.

But here you were—standing in front of him, not rejecting him, and allowing him to help, regardless of how wrong it might have felt.

He's to be my husband, you thought to yourself, biting back against your feelings and trying to rationalize your desire to spend a bit of time with him, I should at least learn to tolerate him.

“Okay,” Aegon eventually said, his voice more uncertain than you’d ever heard it sound before; but hopeful too, wearing the faintest hints of a smile. “Show me your form.”

As you did as he instructed, clumsily moving through each of the movements that Jace had shown you and listening to him laugh and correct your failures, you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty as you started to think that being stuck in King’s Landing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

And that, maybe, Aegon wasn’t so bad either.

a/n - had this sitting in my drafts for a bit cause i wasn't totally happy with it, but decided to polish it up and post it anyways cause why not lmao

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keanoble · 5 months

Text

Huntlow week day 7 (final)

prompt : Wedding

to all the plant girliez i hope i drew them correctly-

i honestly spent way too much time on adding references and symbolism 💀

this huntlow week was fun! and id happily do it next year if its still running :)

#the owl house #toh fanart #toh hunter #toh willow #huntlow #huntlow week #huntlow week 2023

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latenighttalkinqwp · 8 days

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can you do sassy paige hcs??

yes!! i got multiple requests for this one so here it is 🥳

• is literally the queen of side eyeing you. like you could be literally just sitting on your phone doing nothing and she will just give that look until you finally pay attention to her.

• i think i said this in my first paige hc but she is most definitely a pouter. like no matter what if she dosent get what she wants when she wants it trust girl is locking herself in her room all day.

• loves to sigh whenever she is irritated. she will keep doing it louder and louder and whenever someone asks her what’s wrong, she will just be like “oh nothing.”

• is soooo impatient. like girl cannot sit still for five seconds and wait her turn for anything.

- “drew, can i have a turn now?”

“paige, he literally just got into the game!”

“i know buttttt it’s like my turn…”

• whenever she makes you braid her hair, trust she will be complaining every two seconds. either her braids aren’t even, her hair isn’t slick enough, or you just aren’t doing it correctly ( you always do them. )

• if someone asks her to do something and she just dosent wanna do it, p will definitely just say “no.” and get up and walk away. like????

• if you get mad at her about something, she will definitely like flip you off or make faces at you whenever you aren’t looking just to be annoying

i hope this lived up to the expectations 😋 ( literally so sorry this is shit i will redo this one soon😥)

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers headcannons #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #jazzies anons💝#wcbb #jazzies asks🥳

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inkskinned · 1 year

Text

one of the things about the trends and the body image and all of it is that. you can't unsee it. and it doesn't matter that you know logically it's stupid and that logically any person who has a problem with your body can fuck off and die, but it's almost like gore. you flinch even knowing the blood onscreen is fake. you sense a pain that was invented. your body creates the phantom sensation - this thing should be avoided. so okay.

it's not that you won't wear the skinny jeans or the choker or whatever isn't "in style" anymore. and sometimes the demands are so buckwild that you can just ignore them, plain and simple.

but you do think twice sometimes. you do notice things about yourself you hadn't even considered. you notice the hip dips and the shape of your cheekbone and the skin over your eyes. it's been pointed out to you - so you notice. and sometimes it's like fuck you i look fucking amazing and sometimes it's like nobody even remembers that being a thing probably and sometimes - it's fucking devastating. like someone drew a bright red circle around each insecurity. on those days, you wonder - does anyone else see?

because the blame is on you either way. you have a terrible catch-22. if you want to fit in, it's on you to be sure that you look good, that your makeup isn't the "heinous" 2016 style (even if that's the style that flatters you), that your bodyfat settles in the appropriate landmap. and at the same time: it is also on you to ignore the programming. it is on you to get over your decades of social exposure to a trillion-dollar industry and just not care! about these things.

in the comments of course there are people who would advise you nothing with nuance. just ignore it! sure. nobody actually cares about these things. absolutely. this isn't how normal people look. of course not, you know that. you weren't born yesterday. you know about the photoshop and the pricetag and the brand manager.

but like. the media still exists. there are videos on how to manage your hip dips (your skeleton. you know it's your skeleton, and it doesn't matter, does it, because it has a name now, doesn't it?) and how to finally correctly wear the clean-girl-trend and how to have enough money to wear the latest "casual outfit". there are videos critiquing your entire generation for how you dress. how "cringe" it is to wear a certain style of necklace. an influencer says - let's be honest! nobody cares if you just have confidence!

but people do care. you've seen it. you know they care. you've been made fun of enough. it's not, like, a horrible sin to just want to fit in. it's not saying anything new to say i just don't want to be made fun of.

somewhere along here, you learn - your body is more like an accessory. not a home, not a sensation. it is an object like mom jeans or opera gloves. something to manipulate, not something to love.

#spilled ink #writeblr #any time ppl are like well the rules are made up so just stop caring!#im like :) god i wish that were me #I WANT TO!!!#i want you all to stop caring too!!!#but also i think...#in our secret hearts #we care #bc we WERE trained for years to care #and pretending it's as easy as ignoring it.... is really unfair

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multi-fandom-imagine · 1 year

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Ghost + “you’re so pretty.” “I’m what?” “I said you’re so pretty.” 🥺

A/n: AHHH THIS IS SO CUTE

Simon loved watching you, you alway captivated him. It was one of the reasons why he kept a picture of you in his wallet. It was the only thing that kept him sane whenever he was alone on job. You were the only one that he felt safe around to not wear his mask.

Titling his head to the side he ran tongue across the lip then placed his hand on top of yours distracting you with whatever task you were doing at the moment.

“You’re pretty.”

Blinking a few moments you weren’t quite sure if you were the man right. Simon tended to always speak his mind yet his voice was so soft you didn’t know if you heard him correctly. “I’m what?”

The screeching of the chair pushing out drew your attention and Simon stalked towards you as he grasped your chin gently. His thumb gliding across your cheek then your lips.

“I said you so pretty.” He muttered finally pressing his lips against your own as he moved his hands to your hips pulling you close to his chest. He could feel you smiling against his lips, he would always remind you how beautiful you were.

#drabbles #drabble #blurb #blurbs #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon “ghost” riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x y/n #call of duty x you #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare ii

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godisshook · 8 months

Text

Bandit

Tyler was used to taking control of a new person each week, the rush feeling better and better each time. The method was the same, get them to have sex, swap, and enjoy. Tyler had it down to a science, and he would need every bit of his expertise for his latest guy.

Owen was Tyler's newest co-worker. The two talked often and had become great friends. With so much emotion already between them, however, Tyler feared that the swapping wouldn't be complete. All Tyler wanted was a glimpse into the life of this guy who he had become so close with. So he decided to keep things light, he would swap for one week, and one week only.

Now was the time to execute his plan. He had already invited Owen over for dinner, and it was obvious there were mutual feelings between the two of them. With dinner going without a hitch, Tyler gave Owen his notorious bedroom eyes, and the two went upstairs.

As Owen began fucking him, Tyler thought of just how skilled Owen was at sex. His intrigue was stopped as he felt Owen's cock fill him. Releasing a moan in response, Owen ramped things up, fucking harder and faster. Tyler felt a tinge of regret, as he wouldn't be fucked like this again, but with Owen thrusting harder and harder, each thought was replaced by the urge to cum. Reaching climax, cum would pour from Owen's dick, and as Tyler felt his hole fill up, he knew this was his chance. He felt a sudden warmth, and as the world around him lost color, and soon blacked out, he knew he had been successful.

Waking up, Tyler felt different, and he knew exactly what that meant. He was now Owen, and as he assessed his new body, he knew the potential it held. That familiar rush came to him again, and he just knew he had to take this new body out for a spin. Before he could, he took the old Owen, now in the body of Tyler, back to his place, laying him on his bed as if nothing happened. With this precaution taken, it was time to fuck the day away, with this new body pumping out endless loads, as every guy opened up for his massive cock. The night was full of him spreading his seed, with holes being filled with cum everywhere he went. "I could get real used to this," Tyler thought to himself as he was fucking his "last" guy of the night.

Tyler wasn't used to this. He had taken over some real hotties, but he had never got this level of attention before. While it was his rule to return the body after a week, he decided to revel in being Owen for just a little while longer. After a month of being Owen, life had gotten great for Tyler. He now had a boyfriend and easily became the most popular guy on campus. It was as if everything was being handed to him. He wondered how Owen was doing in his old body, as he would have no memory of the swap. For all he knew, the old Owen had been in Tyler's body the whole time.

Regardless, Tyler, the real Tyler, would have to decide whether he would stay as Owen, or return to his body, and he only had a week to do so. The end of the month would solidify the swap, and thus time was of the essence. Tyler pushed the decision back, choosing to revel in this for as long as possible. As the final day drew to a close, Tyler thought about everything. Great sex, good times, Tyler knew in his heart of hearts he would never forgive himself for giving that up, so the decision was made.

As morning came, Owen yawned heavily, taking plenty of air into his big chest. By his side, his boyfriend rests his head on Owen's chest. A feeling of rightness came over him, as he knew he chose correctly. The old Owen would only know his new life as Tyler, and what few memories remained, would not do much to help him.

#jock #alpha men #muscle #muscle tf #swapping #body swap #male body swap

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