🌈Artsy Fartsy🎨

Castiel -

He's confused at first. He's done his…research. Which has come up inconclusive. Porn shows people who enjoy internal and external ejaculation, and when he asks what you prefer, you almost spit out your drink. "I-I mean, internal? I guess? Cas just fuck me" He looks at you funny, like you're the one asking a very odd question in an even more strange manner "I just want to know what your preference is so I can do exactly as you like" you have to pull him close, enough for him to feel you pressed against his body "My preference is you, Angel. However it cums. Get it? However it-" and before you can continue, he whisks you to your bedroom, kissing you deeply. He might not really understand your humor, but it means a lot to him that you still make jokes and share your thoughts with him, so he fucks your brains out as a way of saying thank you. For trusting him with your mind and body, considering every time he says it you ask him why he says weird shit like that, but you smile like he's your world, so he sees it as a good thing.

Dean -

It depends on the day, really. Dean likes cumming anywhere he can see, because he loves laying his claim over you. He's pathetic and clingy when he really falls for someone, desperate to keep them and make sure they really are his, so any form of claim, on you or him, is a must. He's just a sad little thing that needs love, so if he can cum over your chest or face when you give him head, if he can see the sticky white substance dripping over you and see you looking up at him with those eyes, those eyes he fucking adores, he's over the moon. But when he's buried to the hilt inside you, feeling you clench around him and hold him there like you actually want him to stay? He'll cum so deep inside you, so far you didn't know he could possibly go that much further, but he does and when his pretty green eyes find yours, you don't remember feeling anything like it before, feeling so much just from his eyes.

Sam -

The poor thing feels fucking guilty. When he's thrusting into you, hitting that spot inside that makes your eyes roll back, he lets out this half whine of a sound when he's close. He stutters, eyes glassy as he tries to keep his composure, voice breathy and broken as he whispers against your temple "Gonna- gonna cum, baby. Fuck, I'm gonna-" and on the rare ocassion he isn't wearing protection, knowing he'll just pull out, sometimes it's too much and he buries himself deep, shooting ropes into you, more than usual, feeling your walls drag him in so fucking tight. He apologises and apologises, feeling like he's killed your puppy he's such a wreck, but he gets addicted. He'll pull out if you ask him to, it's just those very few random times after a hunt when he almost lost you that make him this desperate and needy, wanting nothing more than to keep you as close as possible, but he's a gentleman. He always eats his cum out of you after, he cleans up after himself.

What theories will the boys have for pink?

Colour Theory Series Taglist - 29

@i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @tincar87 @sweetbabyangeldoll @casanddeanswife @mortluvr

@cvntyvampi @scandalscontained @alasdecas @c1eepypas1a @hopelessbrain

@deadpooltrash @cvelolesttt @ph0ebejeeb1es @strawberries-n-dreams @anqeliical

@serawinchester @haloduck0 @multiversefanfics @spectralgalaxygauntlet @spyder-byte11

@whatstruthgottodowithit @lovergirlfinalboss @plaanet-pluuto @a-froot @enchantedtomeetcoffee

@angelvvitch @crowleysproblemchild @we1rdth0ughts @spirtslysammy

baelor "breakspear" targaryen

physical

— he rests a steady, heavy hand on your shoulder to anchor you in a crowd. it is the touch of a man used to the weight of plate armor, yet it is never overbearing—simply a constant reminder that he is standing right beside you.

— always presses a lingering, chaste kiss to your temple before he leaves for the small council. it is a brief moment of softness, sustaining him through hours of grueling bureaucracy.

— often seeks out your hand under the table during long, exhausting feasts. while the high lords drone on about grain yields and border disputes, his calloused fingers lace through yours, grounding you both in the shared secret of your proximity.

— he pulls you into his side during private walks in the gardens, instinctively matching his long stride to yours so that you never have to struggle to keep pace with him.

— he lets his head drop onto your shoulder when he is finally away from the public eye. in that quiet slump of his shoulders, the prince finally lets go of the realm's weight, trusting you to hold him up for a few stolen minutes.

— when you cuddle, he sits against the headboard with you tucked between his legs, your back to his chest, as his arms form a heavy, warm circle around your waist.

— he’d rest his chin on the crown of your head, his breath steady and rhythmic against your hair.

— his hands, scarred from tourney lances, remain still and grounding against your stomach.

— he speaks in a low, tired murmur about the day’s peace, treating the moment like a rare sanctuary.

— occasionally presses his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if recharging his soul.

— he stays awake until he is certain you are asleep, unwilling to let go of the vigil even in rest.

non-physical

— he shares his heaviest political burdens with you, laying out the complexities of the blackfyre aftermath and trusting your sharp mind to navigate the nuances as much as he trusts your heart to guide his conscience.

— remembers the smallest, most granular details of your comfort, like ensuring your favorite tea or vintage is always stocked in your chambers without you ever having to ask a servant.

— he gives you his full, undivided attention when you speak, physically turning away from sycophantic lords and ambitious knights to signal to the entire court that your voice is the only one that truly matters to him.

— defends your reputation fiercely behind closed doors; even among his closest advisors, he never lets a single slight or dismissive comment pass, always guarding your honor.

— he views you as his genuine equal partner in the daunting, often thankless task of ruling the seven kingdoms, never patronizing you but instead seeking your counsel as the pillar of his prospective reign.

maekar targaryen

physical

— he offers a stiff but protective arm for you to lean on whenever you are in public; his muscles are like coiled springs, ready to move at the slightest hint of trouble, yet he remains an immovable pillar for you to rely on.

— gives your hand a single, bruisingly tight squeeze when he is feeling overwhelmed; it is a brief, silent confession of his internal storm, a moment where his iron composure slips just enough to let you feel how much he needs your presence.

— he allows you to lean against his chest while he reads over war maps or ledgers. the rhythmic thrum of his heart provides a steady cadence to the scratching of his quill, turning a cold room of strategy into a private sanctuary.

— brushes soot or dust off your clothes with a hand that is surprisingly light. the same fingers that can crush a mace handle move with an unexpected, reverent gentleness as they trail across your shoulder to ensure you look your best.

— always keeps a firm, proprietary grip on your waist while guiding you through a dark or narrow corridor; he steers you with the precision of a commander, ensuring his body is always the first to meet whatever might be lurking in the shadows.

— when you cuddle, he lies on his back like a statue, and you drape yourself over his side with your head on his chest and an arm thrown across his torso.

— he doesn't move a muscle, fearing that any shift might disturb the fragile quiet between you.

— his hand rests heavily on the small of your back, his fingers twitching occasionally as he relaxes.

— he listens to the contrast between your soft breathing and the hard thumping of his own heart.

— grunts softly when you pull closer, a sound of gruff approval he would never admit to aloud.

— e keeps his jaw tight until the very last moment before sleep, finally letting the tension melt away.

non-physical

— he expresses his love through hyper-vigilance, constantly checking your surroundings for threats; his eyes are always scanning the balconies and doorways, treating your safety as the most vital campaign he has ever overseen.

— handles all the "ugly" chores of the household so you never have to deal with them. from settling disputes with disgruntled servants to managing the gritty details of the accounts, he quietly removes every thorn from your path before you even know they exist.

— he listens to your advice with a gruff, singular nod, which serves as his highest form of praise. in a world of silver-tongued flatterers, that silent acknowledgement proves he values your mind above all the lords in the realm.

— carves out "fortified" time for just the two of you, away from the clamor of his many sons; he treats these hours as sacred ground, defending them against the intrusions of the court as if he were holding a castle under siege.

— he shows his deepest vulnerability by admitting his fears of failure only to you; beneath the mask of the stoic prince, he reveals the heavy burden of his own expectations, trusting you alone with the parts of himself he deems "weak."

duncan the tall

physical

— lets you use his arm as a literal pillow while you sit by a campfire; despite the strength in those muscles, he remains perfectly still for hours so as not to disturb your rest.

— he instinctively ducks his head and shoulders down so you can easily reach to adjust the clasp of his cloak or touch his face, never wanting his height to feel like a barrier between you.

— holds your hand with such extreme, focused gentleness that you would think you were made of the finest glass, his large fingers curling around yours with a reverence that masks his true strength.

— would give you a sudden, bone-crushing hug when he is overcome with happiness, lifting you entirely off the ground and spinning you around as if you weigh nothing at all.

— always rests his chin on the top of your head while you stand together, finding a rare sense of peace and quietude in the way your smaller stature fits perfectly against his chest.

— when you cuddle, he lies on his side and curls his frame around you, making you feel entirely shielded from the world.

— he worries about his own size, constantly adjusting his long limbs to make sure he isn't crushing you.

— tucks his hands under his own chin or rests them gently on your shoulders.

— he’d let out a long, whistling sigh of relief, glad to be away from the prying eyes of everyone.

— often nudges his nose against your temple, offering clumsy but sincere affection.

— he feels a bit like a great dane, taking up most of the bed but wanting nothing more than to be near you.

non-physical

— he spends his quiet hours on the road carving small, intricate wooden trinkets or gathering a handful of wildflowers for you, offering these humble gifts as a silent testament to his devotion.

— tells you rambling, honest stories of his childhood in the gutters of flea bottom, sharing the raw and hungry parts of himself that he hides from the high-born knights of the realm.

— he asks for your permission and insight before making any big decisions, genuinely valuing your "common sense" over the convoluted logic of lords and maesters.

— worries constantly and vocally about your hunger, thirst, and fatigue, always ensuring you have the best of the rations and the warmest spot by the fire while putting his own needs last.

— he views you as his only true "home," carrying the feeling of belonging with him across the seven kingdoms as long as you are by his side, no matter where you happen to be sleeping that night.

valarr targaryen

physical

— he enjoys the slow, methodical process of brushing and braiding your hair; he treats every strand with a ritual of devotion, his fingers moving with a practiced grace that turns a simple task into an intimate ceremony.

— he maintains a quiet, constant sense of contact whenever you are seated together, whether it is a foot hooked over yours under a table or a hand resting warmly on your knee to keep you grounded in his presence.

— kisses your palms and each of your fingertips with a refined, courtly grace; these are not just gestures of affection, but silent vows of service that he offers up as if you were his only sovereign.

— dances with you far longer than court etiquette or social obligation requires, ignoring the whispers of the great hall just to keep you spinning in his arms for one more song.

— he pulls you into a slow, quiet embrace at the end of every grueling day; he holds you until the tension leaves your shoulders, claiming that your presence is the only thing capable of "washing away" the grime of the court.

— when you cuddle, you lie face-to-face, fingers intertwined and foreheads touching in the center of the pillows.

— he traces the lines of your face with his thumb, memorizing you with a soft, focused intensity.

— whispers small, private jokes about the court to hear the vibration of your laugh.

— he keeps his touch light and graceful, as if he is afraid you might vanish if he grips too hard.

— closes his eyes and hums a faint valyrian melody until you both start to drowse.

— he always looks at you with a mixture of adoration and the heavy weight of his future crown.

non-physical

— often writes you poetic letters filled with high-flown metaphors and earnest longing, sending them by page or placing them on your pillow even when he is only in the next room.

— he plans elaborate, breath-taking surprises to brighten your mood, ranging from hiring private lysene musicians to play beneath your window to sourcing rare, sugared delicacies brought across the narrow sea from essos.

— he‘d talk openly and vibrantly about your future children, weaving a shared dream of a perfect family and a legacy built on the same love that anchors your lives together.

— treats your opinions on court fashion, music, and the arts as the ultimate authority, deferring to your taste above that of the most celebrated masters and curators in the Seven Kingdoms.

— makes you feel like the most beautiful and significant person in the world simply through his constant, unwavering gaze; even in a room full of the realm's highest nobility, his eyes never seem to land on anyone but you.

lyonel baratheon

physical

— he pulls you onto his lap without a moment’s warning, letting out a booming laugh at your startled expression while holding you steady against his broad chest.

— gives you playful, affectionate nudges that are meant to be light, though they carry enough strength to nearly knock a lesser person over if they weren't expecting his touch.

— he keeps a heavy, proprietary arm draped firmly over your shoulders in every social setting, effectively marking you as his own and drawing you into the center of his orbit.

— finds joy in the physical closeness of movement, often initiating lighthearted wrestling or play-fighting just to feel the strength and agility of your body against his.

— kisses you loudly and firmly with a grin on his face, entirely uncaring of which lords, ladies, or servants might be watching his exuberant display of affection.

— when you cuddle, he pulls you into a chaotic, exuberant sprawl, usually with his limbs tangled messily with yours.

— he shakes with quiet laughter as he recounts his latest tournament victories, his enthusiasm radiating off him like heat from a fire.

— his grip is boisterous and firm; he might suddenly squeeze you tight just to hear you gasp or laugh along with him.

— he makes sure you are warm, dragging every available fur or blanket over the both of you until you’re in a literal nest.

— cuddling with him feels like being caught in a summer storm—intense, loud, and full of life, leaving you feeling invigorated.

non-physical

— he makes you the undisputed guest of honor at every feast he hosts, literally shouting your praises to the rafters until every soul in the hall is raised in a toast to you.

— shares his tireless, boisterous joy with you at all times, making it his personal mission to ensure that you are always laughing and smiling by his side.

— brings you "trophies" from every hunt or tourney tilt he enters—offering up massive antlers, silken favors, or gleaming golden cups as tributes to your influence.

— he trusts you implicitly to keep his legendary temper in check, knowing that a single, grounding look from you is the only thing in the seven kingdoms capable of calming his fire.

— he views your entire relationship as one grand, sweeping adventure, frequently telling you how lucky he feels to have a partner like you for the wild ride of his life.

daeron targaryen

physical

— he clings to you with a desperate intensity when he wakes from a harrowing nightmare, pressing his ear against your chest because he needs to feel the steady, rhythmic thrum of your heartbeat to ground him in the waking world.

— holds your hand tucked securely under his chin while he rests, using the familiar warmth of your touch as a natural sedative to quiet the storm of thoughts that usually keeps him from sleep.

— hides his face in your lap to block out the harsh light and the noise of the world, seeking the darkness of your shadow as the only place where he can truly let his guard down.

— would trace the intricate lines of your palms with his thumb for hours, lost in a deep, melancholic thought as if he is trying to read a different kind of destiny written in the skin of your hand.

— often leans his forehead against yours in a long, silent moment of shared breathing, closing his eyes and letting the rest of the seven kingdoms fade away until there is nothing left but the two of you.

— when you cuddle, he collapses into you, his head in your lap or his face buried in your shoulder, seeking a shield from his own mind.

— clings to you with a slight desperation, his fingers hooked into your clothes.

— he mutters half-remembered dreams and worries, seeking the comfort of your voice to drown them out.

— he smells faintly of wine and old parchment, his movements slow and lethargic.

— finds peace only when you run your fingers through his hair, smoothing out his constant frown.

— often falls into a heavy, dreamless sleep only because he feels safe in your presence.

non-physical

— shares the heavy, terrifying burden of his dreams with you, trusting you with the secrets of his subconscious and believing that you are the only one who won't view his visions as madness.

— makes soft, self-deprecating jokes just to see a smile cross your face, sacrificing his own pride to lighten the mood even when he is feeling the weight of the world at its lowest.

— he gives you his "real" self when you are behind closed doors, stripping away the cold, polished armor of a prince to reveal the vulnerable, weary man who exists beneath the titles.

— creates a "secret world" for just the two of you—a mental and emotional space where the pressure of ancient prophecies and the demands of the throne simply do not exist.

— he values your presence as the single most important thing in his life, often confessing that your love and companionship are the only things that make his difficult, haunted existence truly worth living.

aerion "brightflame" targaryen

physical

— he utilizes a sense of "ownership" as his primary form of intimacy, often maintaining a firm, bruisingly tight grip on your arm or waist to ensure everyone in the room knows exactly where you belong.

— he demands that you perform the most basic tasks for him, such as feeding him grapes at a feast or helping him dress in his finery, perverting these simple acts of service into a public display of your total closeness to him.

— forces unwavering eye contact during your most private moments, physically holding your face between his hands with a demanding pressure until you look at him—and only him.

— kisses you with a frantic, desperate hunger that frequently borders on aggression, as if he is trying to consume your very essence to fuel the fire he believes burns within his own blood.

— he has a strange, recurring habit of pressing his fingers against your throat or wrist to feel your pulse, watching you with a detached fascination as he studies what he considers your "mortal" warmth.

— when you cuddle, he pulls you back against his chest with a sharp, sudden tug, his arm snaking around your waist like a heavy iron band.

— he rests his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing hot and uneven as he mutters about his enemies and his divine right to rule.

— he hooks his leg over yours to pin you down, ensuring you cannot shift or create even a sliver of space between your skin and his.

— his fingers twitch against your ribs, tracing the line of your bones with a frantic energy that never truly settles into peace.

— demands your total stillness, treating your body as a silent, warm anchor for his own chaotic and high-strung mind.

non-physical

— he frequently whispers that you are the only soul in the seven kingdoms worthy of standing beside a "true dragon," isolating you from others by elevating you to his own delusional pedestal.

— he shares his grandest and darkest ambitions with you, laying out his visions of power and transformation while expecting you to serve as his silent, loyal co-conspirator against the rest of the world.

— he buys you the most ostentatious and expensive jewelry in the known world—heavy gold and rare gems.

— becomes intensely, dangerously jealous of any person or hobby that dares to take your attention away from him, viewing any interest outside of his own needs as a personal slight against his divinity.

• But confessing his feelings wasn’t something he really knew how to do. It’s hard for him, in the beginning, to just come right out and say, “I love you”. Don’t expect to hear it early on.

• So instead of confessing his feelings, he just lets you be near him more. Letting you ride in his truck, sit beside him on the couch, and even letting you in his room.

• It may not seem like a big gesture but to someone so reserved, it was his quiet way of letting you know that he trusts you.

• You didn’t notice immediately but Baby did, loudly proclaiming that her brother had a crush on you. And once you realized she was right, finally catching on to RJ’s feelings, Baby would relentlessly tease him about it.

• His love confession comes in the form of a kiss, leaning in late one night as the two of you sat on the tailgate of his truck. Not long after that, the two of you were officially a couple.

• RJ isn’t a man of many words. He enjoys talking to you but he much prefers to just sit and listen. Listening to you talk is actually one of his favorite things to do. It relaxes him in a way. He could listen to you talk for hours and never get bored.

• He can get surprisingly needy and touchy. He just can’t keep his hands to himself. I guess you could say that physical touch is definitely something he craves. He didn’t really know that about himself until he met you. He’s never really dated anyone before so this is new territory for him (and he loves it but won’t openly admit it)

• He’s constantly pulling you closer to him, encasing you in his arms. He likes to hug you from behind and rest his chin on your head. Constantly has his calloused hand on your thighs whenever you’re sitting close to him. He’ll wrap his arm around your shoulder sometimes and pull you into his chest, holding you close. Loves it when you’re cuddled up against him. And don’t get me started on what it’s like sharing a bed with him. This man quite literally sleeps better when you’re latched onto him, whether it be laying on top of him or wrapped around his side with your head on his chest. He’ll pull your leg up to his waist and just hold it there as he sleeps. Sometimes (and by sometimes I mean very rarely) he’ll lay on your chest, resting his head against you as you run your fingers through his hair.

• Not too big on PDA, most of this is done when the two of you are alone. But sometimes he’ll kiss you or hold your hand in public.

• He likes kissing your forehead and your neck. Sometimes you’ll swat him away playfully because he just can’t keep his mouth off of you. He’d give you 1000 hickies if you’d let him.

• All that being said, he’s very good at respecting your boundaries (unlike his siblings who too often don’t give you enough space). If you need time by yourself he understands more than most of the household. Living with the Firefly family is not for the faint of heart and he knows that.

• Speaking of boundaries, he gets a bit possessive over you around Otis. Otis sometimes can’t keep his mouth shut especially if he sees the two of you even remotely close to each other. He’ll blurt out obscenities and innuendos about the two of you, but usually just you. Most of the time all it takes is a look from RJ to get Otis to shut up. And Otis usually will stop. But if he won’t a growled threat or two gets Otis to back off. RJ is bigger than his half-brother in every single way and could hospitalize (or kill) Otis with barely any effort. Otis rather not take any chances. He’ll still tease both of you but the vulgarity might become less prevalent.

• He doesn’t consider himself a jealous person but sometimes he’s proven wrong. Sometimes the clerk at the local liquor store might become too forward towards you. A part of him wants to hit the man with a beer bottle right there. But he doesn’t do anything to the man (at least not yet). Instead, he’ll pull you by your waist, leading you away. The small gesture makes it clear that you’re off limits.

• Since RJ isn’t that talkative, he shows his love in more unspoken ways. Whether it be helping you with chores, bringing you your favorite snacks from the store, or making sure your car is always in perfect working condition. He likes being there for you and doing things for you. He’s much better at showing his love instead of outright saying he loves you.

• However, depending on how long you’ve been he will absolutely tell you how much he loves you. He doesn’t say it often but just know that when he says it, he means it.

• He’ll have his head in the crook of your neck and whisper, “I love you”. His voice is deep but soft. He’ll hold you close and kiss you, so thankful that he found you (or that you found him).