#Not with her long luxurious fur | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

r0ugesun · 6 months ago

Note

I have a fluff maybe to slight spicy request for Aemond Targaryen if you are interested!

Aemond finally becomes betrothed to princess!reader of a different house (can be any it don’t matter) but has circulation problems so she’s always cold and therefore fretted over making Aemond believe she is spoiled. But upon being proven wrong from maybe bonding over books or hell training, falls in love and carries her to bed when the cold gets to her and her bed is just full of blankets to cuddle in.

(Aemond deserves all the intimacy and cuddles)

Thank you for sending me this request anon and sorry for the delay! Ur right Aemond deserves all the cuddles (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Synopsis: Princess y/n of House Martell arrives at the wintry Red Keep as Prince Aemond’s betrothed. As y/n’s warmth and intellect begin to break through Aemond’s icy exterior, he finds himself drawn to her. In return, Aemond’s protective embrace provides y/n the warmth she desperately needs.

Aemond x Martell!Reader

Prince Aemond Targaryen’s engagement to Princess y/n of House Martell was a union crafted to solidify political alliances. While their marriage was intended to serve as a strategic move, it was marred by the disparity in their circumstances. Princess y/n, renowned for her exotic beauty and noble grace, suffered from a rare condition that left her perpetually cold. This affliction required constant warmth, a need that Aemond initially perceived as a sign of pampering rather than genuine necessity.

From the moment y/n arrived at the red keep in the middle of a particularly harsh winter, the contrast between them was stark. The grand halls of the castle were adorned with tapestries of fearsome dragons and Targaryen banners, but y/n’s presence was marked by her constant need for warmth. She was swathed in layers of heavy furs, her every movement accompanied by a retinue of attendants. Aemond observed from a distance, noting her delicate appearance and the attentiveness of her servants. His initial impressions were marked by skepticism and a hint of disdain.

Their first meeting was formal, a carefully orchestrated affair. Aemond greeted her with his characteristic stoicism. “Princess y/n” he said, his tone courteous but distant, “I trust your journey was comfortable?”

Y/N offered a polite smile, though her eyes revealed a trace of weariness. “Thank you, Prince Aemond. The journey was long, but I am well. Though I must admit, the cold here is harsher than I expected.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his gaze indifferent. “You are accustomed to much warmer climates in dorne, I’m sure. Adapting to this cold must be challenging.”

Y/n’s voice was steady as she replied, “It is indeed a challenge, but I am here to fulfill my duty. I hope to contribute meaningfully despite the discomfort.”

Aemond's eyes remained cold as he regarded

Y/n. "Your sense of duty is admirable, though I can't help but wonder if you’ll be a hindrance rather than a help."

Y/N’s eyes flashed with sharpness, though her smile remained placid. She titled her head slightly before she spoke.

“I suppose we'll find out soon enough. I’ve faced challenges before. If I can endure the cold, I’m certain I can manage other… inconveniences.”

Aemond’s lips curled slightly in a thin smile, more of a smirk than a genuine expression of amusement. “Mmm. I wonder if your resolve will hold up as well when faced with the less glamorous aspects of life here.”

“Let’s hope” y/n replied smoothly. “It’s one thing to endure the elements, another to contend with a lack of charm.”

Aemond’s gaze sharpened slightly, but his tone remained even. “Charm is not a luxury I indulge in, Princess. I prefer matters of substance.”

Y/n had a smirk of her own now, her expression thoughtful. “Substance is important, but so is the ability to navigate social graces. Otherwise, one might come off as... unlikable.”

Aemond’s expression did not shift. “And you, Princess, are known for your social prowess?”

“I am known for many things, my prince” y/n said with a wry smile.

“Including the ability to keep my composure even when faced with frosty reception—both literal and figurative.”

Aemond’s eyes flickered with a hint of respect, though he quickly masked it with his usual stoicism. “We shall see if your composure extends to the political intricacies of our alliance.”

“I have no doubt it will” y/n replied confidently. “After all, if I can manage to stay warm and navigate through a wintry castle, I believe I can handle the complexities of court politics.”

Aemond regarded her with a piercing look, as if assessing whether her confidence was merely bravado or a genuine asset. “We shall see, indeed.”

Days passed, and the cold of King's Landing seemed even more relentless. Aemond, finding solace in the library's quiet, often retreated there to escape the castle's demands. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ancient tomes, he entered the library to find an unexpected sight: Y/N, comfortably nestled near the hearth, a thick fur draped over her shoulders, engrossed in a book.

Aemond paused, his usual stoic demeanor faltering for a moment. He approached her with measured steps, his curiosity piqued. "Princess" he greeted, his tone more neutral than before.

Y/blooked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes before she smiled with a hint of apprehension. "Prince Aemond. I didn't expect to see you here."

"The library is a place of comfort for me" he admitted, his gaze drifting over the bookshelves. "I come here often to escape the... noise."

Y/n nodded, her fingers tracing the edges of the book she held. "I think it’s quite peaceful myself. I find the histories of your lineage particularly fascinating."

As Aemond sat across from her, he noticed the title of the book in her hands. "The Histories of Dorne and Aegon the conquerer" he remarked. "An interesting choice."

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with interest. "I was just reading about Aegon’s failed conquest of Dorne. It seems he underestimated the resilience of the Dornish people."

Aemond’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "Aegon was a formidable conqueror, but he came unprepared, the Dornish have always been adept at guerrilla warfare, using the knowledge of their land to their advantage."

Y/n leaned forward slightly, her interest genuine. "Do you think he could have succeeded if he had approached the conquest differently?"

Aemond considered her question, appreciating the depth of her curiosity. "Perhaps. He tried to discredit your ancestors with slanders and rumors when his dragons failed, of course that endeavor proved fruitless as well, if it were me I would’ve hired mercenaries familiar with the terrain and the culture”

Y/n smiled wryly “Wars are not won with bloodshed alone my prince If he had been more willing to negotiate and form alliances rather than relying solely on brute force, he might have had a better chance. The Dornish value our independence highly, we would not bow to mere threats."

Aemond’s gaze softened, clearly intrigued by her insight. “It seems you have a keen grasp of the intricacies of the histories and strategy. I imagine you would have made a formidable advisor.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment, but she remained composed. “Thank you, my prince. I’ve always believed that knowledge and perspective are key to navigating both conflict and peace.”

Aemond’s smile widened slightly, a rare gesture that hinted at genuine admiration. “I look forward to hearing more of your perspectives.”

Their debates on the histories of the realm continued, the conversation flowing easily between them. They discussed strategies, historical figures, and the nuances of Dornish culture versus the Targaryen way of conquest. Aemond found himself increasingly drawn to her intellect and passion, her perspectives challenging and enlightening.

As the evening wore on, Aemond realized with a start that he was enjoying her company. Y/n’s confident demeanor were a stark contrast to his initial impressions. He found himself admiring the way she held her own in their debate, unafraid to challenge his views.

As the days turned into weeks, the cold of King's Landing seemed to grow less oppressive for y/n and Aemond, though winter’s bite was still unmistakable. One crisp afternoon, the pair decided to take a stroll through the Kingswood, a vast expanse of trees and tranquility that lay on the outskirts of the city.

Wrapped in their furs, they walked side by side, their conversation flowing as seamlessly as the wind through the trees. They continued their discussion of history. Aemond found himself enthralled by y/n’s insights and the way she animatedly discussed the events of the past.

As they wandered further into the wood, engrossed in their discourse, they lost track of time. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the temperature dropped sharply. Y/n’s delicate frame began to show signs of discomfort, her shivering becoming more pronounced.

Aemond’s keen eyes noticed her struggle first. “Princess, you appear distressed” he said, his voice laced with concern. “We should head back.”

Y/n tried to maintain her composure, but her attempts were faltering. “I’m quite cold” she admitted, her voice trembling. She winced as she took another step, her limp becoming more noticeable. “Perhaps... we should indeed return.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed as he observed her growing discomfort. Without a second thought, he scooped her into his arms with surprising ease. Y/n gasped, both startled and flustered by the sudden, intimate contact. Her cheeks flushed, though it was not entirely from the cold.

Aemond, maintaining a careful hold, began to carry her back through the woods. His stride was steady and purposeful, though he could not ignore the feeling of Y/N nestled close against him. The warmth of her body against his own was both a contrast to the frigid air and a comfort he had not anticipated.

As they neared the castle, Y/N’s embarrassment was palpable. She attempted to speak through her shivering. “M-my prince, you needn’t carry me. I can manage!”

Aemond’s gaze softened as he looked down at her. “You are in no condition to walk, Princess. Allow me to ensure you are safely returned to your chambers.”

Despite her initial resistance, Y/N found herself settling into his embrace, her coldness slowly melting away with each step Aemond took. The castle’s warmth greeted them as they entered, and Aemond carried her up the grand staircase, his movements deliberate and careful.

Upon reaching their chambers, Aemond gently set y/n down on the edge of the large, ornate bed. He took a moment to stoke the fire, ensuring the room was warm and inviting. Y/n watched him with a mixture of gratitude and bashfulness.

“Thank you” she said quietly as he helped her settle under the heavy, embroidered blankets. “I didn’t expect...”

Aemond interrupted her softly, a rare tenderness in his voice. “There is no need to thank me. It is my duty as your future husband to ensure your well being.”

As the fire crackled and the warmth enveloped her, y/n began to relax. Aemond, though maintaining his usual stoicism, could not ignore the growing affection he felt. He seated himself beside her, his presence a comforting shield against the chill.

Y/n looked at him, her eyes reflecting both relief and a newfound closeness. “You’ve been very kind, Aemond. I appreciate it more than you know.”

Aemond nodded, his own emotions subtly shifting. “I am glad to see you more comfortable. It would be remiss of me to let you suffer.”

The fire's glow cast a warm halo around them, and the room was filled with a tender intimacy that seemed to wrap around them like the softest of blankets. Y/n’s eyes met Aemond's, and for a moment, the world outside their secluded chamber fell away. The air was thick with an unspoken yearning, a deep desire that neither could ignore.

Aemond's gaze softened as he took in the sight of her, his usual composure giving way to a rare display of vulnerability. The warmth from the hearth made her cheeks flush, her lips slightly parted in a way that made Aemond's heart ache with a longing he had not anticipated. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch tender and lingering.

As he leaned in, their breaths mingled, warm and intertwined. The kiss that followed was not hurried but slow and filled with a profound tenderness. It was as if Aemond was trying to savor every moment, every sensation of her closeness. His lips moved gently against hers, exploring with a careful, reverent touch. The kiss was a quiet confession of his growing affection, a promise of warmth and devotion.

Y/n felt a delicious shiver of pleasure as he placed his warm hands under her dress and caressing her thighs, melting into his embrace, her cold body finally finding solace in the heat of his touch. Aemond's arms wrapped around her with a desperate kind of need, pulling her closer as if he could absorb her cold and make it his own. His warmth seemed to seep into her, chasing away the chill that had plagued her since her arrival.

With each press of his lips every soft touch under her clothes, Aemond conveyed a yearning that went beyond mere physical desire. It was a yearning for connection, for understanding, for something deeper than the political arrangement that had brought them together. His touch was both possessive and protective, He was a fire that would keep her brittle heart warm.

When they finally parted, their foreheads resting together, Aemond’s eye was filled with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

Y/n’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “You bring warmth to more than just my body, Aemond. You’re igniting something in me that I never knew I needed.”

Aemonds eye shone with a mix of relief and affection as he looked down at her. “I never thought I’d find comfort like this.”

Aemond’s smile was soft, almost shy, as he brushed his thumb lightly over her cheek as she spoke.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so unexpected can bring such warmth to our lives.”

Y/n nuzzled her nose with his and wrapped her leg over Aemond’s waist, drawing herself closer to him. The closeness of their bodies created an even more intimate cocoon, reinforcing their shared warmth. The contact of her leg against his body was both grounding and tender, a subtle way of expressing her trust and affection.

Aemond’s hold tightened slightly, his eye closing in contentment as he savored the sensation of her closeness. His hand continued its soothing caress, and he rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in a warm, gentle rhythm. “You are my only warmth” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/n’s eyes met his with a tender, knowing look. “And you are mine.” she replied softly, her lips brushing against his in a final, lingering kiss. They were each others warmth and comfort.

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mac-tirs · 5 months ago

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the not-insignificant differences between the omen twins

so, i saw this picture posted by @amanaci which inspired me to write this rather lengthy piece on the contrasts between morgott and mohg. i decided that, instead of dumping this whole think-piece on their post, i'd make my own separate post and ramble here.

this difference in their height really tracks for how their fighting styles and personalities are like, i feel. i always found it peculiar how different they are despite being twins; i feel like there's a rather stark resemblance between miquella and malenia in their soft-faced features, pale skin, and long flowing hair, and a close resemblance between the carian siblings with their red hair, but morgott and mohg are rather different from each other, only bearing similarities due to their omen nature. i looked a little bit into that and found that there's pretty good reasons behind why.

firstly, morgott is severely malnourished and unhealthy in comparison to mohg. you can see it in his body and how his skin sags, how his ribs and bones show, and how dry it looks. below is a comparison between his hands and mohg's hands.

morgott's hands are dry, almost rubbed red and raw around the knuckles and fingers. it reminds me a little of psoriasis, or some kind of skin discolouration caused by his poor health. it's likely he isn't eating well, or at the very least, he isn't eating as well as mohg. his twin, on the other hand (ha!), has shiny, veiny skin with a healthy colour and gleam to them. it's like he wants to call to attention how well moisturised he is (which, in this case, compared to morgott, he is).

above is a comparison between the twins' horns. the difference is extremely evident to me; morgott's horns are dry, almost seeming brittle, like sun-dried bone that hasn't seen rain or moisture in years. it reminds me of the horns of a very neglected ram, almost, but despite that, the horn growths seem more controlled, less like the wild growths all over the royal omens of the shunning grounds and more controlled as a sort of jutting crown from mainly one side of his head. meanwhile, mohg's horns are shiny, curling wildly to the point of injury, taking his eye in its path of growth. they grew wildly enough to replace his hair altogether, if he ever had any, and give him an even more imposing silhouette with a literal crown of horns (and a beard to boot). beyond this, his horns look healthy, with clearly defined rings to each growth that shine under the light, much like the rest of him. he's oiled leather to morgott's dry hide.

another somewhat interesting detail of morgott is his tail. i know a lot of people see it as soft, and it certainly looks the part, but what i find interesting are two things: the first being that his fur looks quite matted in some lightings and angles but overall looks soft to the touch, and the second being that his tail's horns look much healthier than his own horns on his head. this is in clear contrast to the rest of his body, which looks dry and unassuming with smatterings of coarse white hair up and down his body, and i believe its a matter of the limits to his own self-care. he utilises his tail as another weapon in his arsenal, so he cares for it that it might serve him well in battle, unlike his head of horns, which only serve as a detriment to him with how they must obscure some of his vision, if not most of it. additionally, he likely could bear to look at his tail and care for it, but for an omen that hates his nature more than the average, he probably doesn't enjoy looking at his own face in the mirror enough to properly care for himself.

which brings me back to the sheer differences between these two. morgott, unhealthy and self-loathing, neglects many visual aspects of himself likely because he sees vanity as a luxury not afforded to someone like him. mohg, healthy and self-obsessed, cares and grooms himself to appear very much so like the lord he claims to be, loving himself to a heretical extreme (in the eyes of the golden order). their statures reflect this too; morgott hunches low to the ground, ready to pounce at any given moment but also due to his own shame and humility, while mohg stands tall and proud, though not as tall as he could possibly be due to his upbringing being one of likely having to hunch low to fit beneath the ceilings of the smaller parts of the shunning grounds.

above is a picture of an omen from stormveil, which bears resemblance to all the omen you see in the game. in terms of clothing, one of the big ways people set the omen twins apart, morgott is completely naked save for the ragged cloak of animal hides he wears, signifying he is not fit to even dress himself in a shirt or trousers as befits a king, much like the omen pictured. he wears even less than that, actually, since he lacks even the slightest adornment save for the rope that clasps his cloak together. on the other hand, mohg is entirely adorned in finery, wearing a beautifully embroidered, fashionable priest's robe with matching vestments, and beneath that (as seen in the first image) some underclothes, a plain black button up and some pants. mohg's entire silhouette changes with the removal of his robe, while morgott's barely makes an impact once you realise he has only taken off the one article of clothing he had.

then, of course, there are their fighting styles. there's this fantastic video on youtube that i recommend watching of the twins fighting every major boss in the game, and you can clearly tell them apart from their fighting styles alone. morgott is fast, his size making him look deceptively slow only for him to dart out and do sick flips and somersaults and pirouettes that rival even the most flexible dancers, and he fights with speed and almost animalistic ferocity, save for when he conjures his weapon incantations. mohg is slow but strong, capable of swinging that large trident around like it weighs nothing while hitting with the force to knock down most enemies in a few hits, and most tarnished in just one, but he fights with a steady gracefulness in his every move, walking slowly and carefully while casting spells that hurt a lot.

even their phase 2 transitions are markedly different, with morgott's being one where he drops to his knees, vomits, and releases his cursed blood(?) all over the battlefield, causing his weapon to become alight with his curse and for him to fight with more in-your-face aggression, and with mohg's being one where he simply ignores your attacks and begins stabbing his spear into the formless mother for power at your expense, gaining a majestic set of wings that put distance between you and him so he can cast more of his spells at safer distances. where morgott is pushed to his limit and forced to confront his nature, mohg has long since embraced it and enjoys the fruits of his bloody labour with the mother of truth's blessing.

speaking of the mother of truth, even their patron orders are at odds with each other. the golden order was built upon the foundation of a very carefully-guarded lie: that marika is the one true god, which she can't be, with the existence of radagon (as per goldmask, perhaps the number 1 fundamentalist we meet in game). the formless mother is known also as the mother of truth, existing in direct opposition of the golden order's lies and craving the honesty of one of the purest expressions of life: blood. these two ideals would war against each other, with one being dedicated to the upholding of a beautiful, corrupt lie and the other being dedicated to the instillation of a dynasty of raw, pure truths. as such, even morgott and mohg's own great runes reflect these contrasts in faith, though, remarkably, these two great runes are ones that fit perfectly over each other, with mohg's slightly elevated (seen below, taken from the fextralife wiki).

so, where does this leave us? i don't know, exactly. i wasn't really writing this with any sort of ultimate conclusion. i just found it really interesting how different they were, and i wanted to talk about all the noticeable, significant differences between them here. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#elden ring #elden ring rambles #elden ring lore #omenboys #morgott the omen king #margit the fell omen #mohg lord of blood #mohg the omen #i hope this whole thing makes sense

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persicipen-archive · 3 months ago

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𑑛 “CLAWS” ﾉ FEIXIAO. HONKAI STAR RAIL

fem reader ﾉ words 2.9k ᯽ sponsored through @ficsforgaza project ﾉ wolf and bunny dynamic. bunny-aligned petnames. reader is feixiao’s concubine. lesbian sex waaah! fingering. oral — reader receiving. biting. rough handling. overstimulation. magical strap. big cock feixiao <3 ᯽ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

you bring a special scroll from lingsha to your general, who commissioned a secret spell. as her favourite concubine, such visits in a tent during the resting hours could only mean one thing. and you would gladly oblige.

Your task was simple. Important, but simple.

To have the special scroll from Lingsha, the new Cauldron Master of the Xianzhou Luofu’s Alchemy Commission, be delivered into the hands of your beloved general, the Merlin’s Claw herself, Feixiao of Xianzhou Yaoqing. Both women treated this as a form of alliance, sharing secrets ebbed into the silken paper and smug glances back when they were discussing the mysterious context of said spell.

It took a while — not a short one — but once it was ready, you were the one to bring it back.

Encouraged by the phantom of the lingering touch of the general, a sweep of her fingers on your chin to keep your head up right before your leave, you rode through the skies with curiosity and naive excitement in your heart to feel it anew at your return.

In every sense of the word, to enemies she was the storm, but to you — your sun. So dazzling and full of pride, capable of bearing everything as though it weighed nothing, even the blows of evil barely scratching her muscles.

And she treated her concubines with care, not to be so bold to say — with love. And you were her favourite, for some reason, given the large amounts of luxury gifted to you on occasion. Before your departure, she gave you her most precious white borisin fur, hiding underneath layers and layers of gilded and elegant silks that emitted a sweet perfume scent with every movement. You loved the fur, similar to the mane on her forehead, like she gave you a part of herself to keep you warm.

Now, not even the moon fully settled on the night sky, you come back and — long story short — end up in the general’s bed.

The bond between you feels tangible, woven into the very fabric of the evening. She will be the fury, and you will be a steady river, welcoming, caring, never turning away from her.

Swept from your feet and put under her body, you’re smiling at her grinning features that demand obedience. To give yourself to her, at last, after she waited and waited for you to bring the scroll — its contents safely tucked away by the nightstand for later use.

“Come on, sweetling, I didn’t send you to Lingsha for you to slack off.” Feixiao’s voice is electrifying, sharp against your body. “Didn’t she teach you the ways of pleasuring demanding lovers, eh?”

“Like you, general?”

“Heh, like me.”

Her long fingers knead you, with the goal of having you warm and soft for her. The contrast between her pointy features — silver ears flicking above her head, icy eyes darting from your face to between your legs, sculpted arms from bearing the weapons swift as a lightning— and yours gets her going. How could it not? You’re a real treat, and all she can think of is to bite into you with joy.

Sharp as a knife, the general feels like you are so close yet still too far away, even when her hand slams into your mouth, probing at your tongue so you may drool all over her wrist, a pliant creature you are.

Why should she waste precious time when you can salivate this much and all it takes is just to bring her own palm down and smear the moisture all over your puffy folds?

“Hah, hot already. And here I am thinking you need to be more wet… Look at my pants, fuck, all stained from your juices, ha!” She grins, her laugh thunderous in the room as you sigh and whimper, trying to touch her wherever you can, while Feixiao bucks up against your thigh and hisses at the friction.

You hump into her hands, but she takes you off, rising and kissing you with savage delight.

The smell of steel is not so prominent on her, mostly soot and blood; she’s not fresh from the battlefield like this morning, but she still carries the war with herself, the traces of fire and ashes never really leaving her even if there’re no weapons on her person. She holds you with eyes almost feral, as if she hasn’t eaten in days and only a mere strip of flesh will satiate her hunger.

A turbulence of messy undressing and pulling at each other’s robes lasts a flicker of time and she keeps that silk veil on you like a ribbon on a gift.

She lets go of you, laying you down and taking off her clothes quickly. You rest there like a delicate sacrifice, all too willing to offer yourself to the god of war, yet not without complaining about how she takes too long for it’s unnecessary for her to be naked, and this was your job anyway — just to lay and smell deliciously with your legs open.

“And what do we have here? A bunny who knows how to bite?”

“Only if you want me to, general.”

She shuts you up with another rough kiss, smashing her lips into yours and forcing her tongue into your mouth. Her firm tits glide up and down against your own, pebbled and scarred nipples digging into your skin.

When she parts, she takes hold of your chin, pinching and turning your head left and right, admiring her handiwork — how hazy your glossy eyes are, how you pant desperately.

You whine a little, your lashes fluttering against your flushed cheeks, and Feixiao gives you a gentle slap in the face. She then grips your face hard, whispering to you how cute you are and what a pretty little thing ro be devoured.

The power and strength in her hands make you shudder in pleasure. Her praise makes you beam.

“Bunny, I cannot ever decide if I want to get to you immediately or savour the time together. Mm, but now I see you and I cannot tease you any longer, so— legs wide.”

Her free hand squeezes into your knee, while she roughly spreads you open, letting go of your face and sliding down, sitting between your legs. She eyes you up and down before her claws, beautifully manicured nails, drag across your soft thighs, leaving angry red marks on the surface. Her luminescent gaze is almost poisonous, turning your blood into lead, hot and burning within you.

It takes all your might not to fall apart right there and then, but she decides to spare you some humiliation for once, drawing closer to your mound.

Your insides are warm and slick, reddened by all the rubbing you received earlier, and the general doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of this. She licks a long stripe between your folds, the tip of her not entirely foxian tongue leaving a trail of saliva to coat and slick up your skin. You stifle a moan and bite your lips, hands balled into fists on your sides as you fight the urge to make a noise, letting her hear only the echoes of her own harsh breaths.

She goes in deeper, flattening her tongue against your most sensitive part and slurping obscenely, because she knows it gets you worked up. She wants you to say her name. How your body convulses is delicious to see, especially when she, as your lover, feels you getting close. The buildup elicits a whimper out of you, chest rising and falling rapidly as she laps at your cunt.

You have been edged for too long, and you feel tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed with all these sensations — the slight tickle from her nose rubbing against your clit, the strange coldness of her silver piercings, the moist heat of her mouth eating you out.

“Ah—! General, general, please…!” Your words sound like an enchantment to her ears, like music, so she only groans louder and slaps your thigh a few times, relishing in how your muscles tremble. Your toes curl into the sheets as the general holds your legs up and over her shoulders, grabbing your ass up from the splayed sheets and rocking you back and forth against her face.

When you finally reach your peak, your cries are wanton and high-pitched, lost to the wind that roams through the tent. The storm rising outside together with desire stirring within the Merlin’s Claw heart.

With her relentless mouth still on you, licking all of your juices, you slump down into the pillows, sighing heavily.

Feixiao comes up for air after a while, laughing at how limp you look, arms above your head, thighs still spread open with your swollen folds in full view. She scoffs, calls you a whore for this with a proud smile, and dips her hand there for the last time, giving you a few circular rubs, causing you to buckle and wail into the mattress.

“Hah, the more you have, the more you want. Good thing I asked Lingsha for that spell… You know which one. One of the few good uses of the curse within my body.” She exclaims, purring, one arm already reaching for the parchment with the handwritten enchantment.

Before your eyes, as she tears down her military pants, a shroud of mist and storm gathers in her loins, tamed and shaped by her claws until it takes a phallic form. Its glistening dark blue is marbled with streaks of molten silver, solidifying into cloudy ridges and bumps as you stare at it with interest.

“Naughty woman, she didn’t lie…” Feixiao hums to herself, weighing the newly acquired body part as it tingles against her clit when the spell links her senses to bore it with confidence.

“I didn’t know it’s possible.”

“Haha, now there’s only left to try if it’s as good as the real thing.”

“Like the jade one?” You ask curiously, tilting your head at the memory of some previous experiences shared with your general.

“Mhm, good old times, bun. I will leave it up to you to decide which one is better. A wind or a stone? A storm or a jade?”

She sighs when the magical cock twitches under your watchful gaze, and she continues stepping towards the bed. Your tongue pokes out a little as you are mesmerised by the erection, a hypnotising gleam sparkling off of the sharp head. Feixiao strokes herself slowly, adjusting the tempest to her liking, holding your chin up with her other hand.

“I assume that your more than ready. I don’t want to waste this magic, so hold on to something until I’m fulfilled. Hah, it does look beautiful, but we don’t have much time, and I cannot make it less formidable, you know. Anyway, how about you spread those pretty pussy lips for me?”

Feixiao barks out orders with her usual steadiness, yet her eyes are filled with feral hunger as she descends upon you as you’re turning around with your ass arched up and your trembling fingers parting your cunt for her sharp gaze. Her firm hands take a hold of your waist, not too gently, as simultaneously she aims for the nook between your legs, pressing at your entrance.

She growls in pleasure when the wet heat welcomes her. It’s not entirely possible to feel it like men do, but seeing your creamy cunt open up and a sizzling tingle run to her own loins are more than enough.

The thrust is powerful and sudden, yet precise — pushes into you without hesitation. Her cock is a bit wider than usual toys, with bumps all over that remind you of rocks in a river. You scream in unexpected satisfaction, tearing into the sheets as she immediately pulls out and bucks in again, snarling.

Feixiao looms over you like an omen, letting you feel her heat on your back as her strong arms rest by your head, girth gliding in and out of your hole. Her taut nipples brush against your skin on your shoulder blades with each roll of her hips. She nibbles on your neck, lapping at the bruises with a devilish smirk on her face, silver streaks of sweat decorating her cheeks, making the motions of her jaw more visible and pleasant to watch.

You try to match her rhythm, but you fail, getting lost in the rough fucking. You get on all fours to steady yourself, putting a pillow between your arms.

The general chuckles at this, wondering if this is the moment you realise how fragile you are under her and give up.

It doesn’t bother her much though — there is something wonderfully obscene about being underneath her, your round ass presented to her like this. It gets her blood pumping even harder, especially when you whine into the fabric, muffling your voice.

Eyes flaring red, which she must control; a bloodthirsty urge to claim you in entirety and claw at your constitution like a festering fever, a raging pulse on a wound.

You’re warm and wet, just how she likes it. Allowing herself to slow down, she hums, not stopping altogether as she begins to thrust more precisely. Your walls clench around her at random intervals, and she grits her teeth, taking one of her hands to squeeze your hips, feeling how they move along with her, just slightly, but it makes her ecstatic nonetheless.

Your hands slip downwards, while you try to keep yourself upright, accidentally pushing the pillow away. It falls to the ground, and Feixiao glances down, an evil grin creeping on her lips.

She reaches down to take hold of your hand and brings it between your legs.

“Touch yourself. Make yourself come on my cock,” she hisses into your ear, gritting her teeth, forcing you to flatten your palm against your mound, with your middle finger already near your swollen clit. You moan and lean back against her chest, clenching hard, which is making your walls feel more stretched than ever.

Her hips pound against you faster, allowing the tip of her length to smack into you with ease. It hits a spot inside you, sending tingles all over your body as she snickers, only amused at your wild flailing, almost knocking the vase from Xianzhou Zhuming — a lucky charm gifted to her during one of the recent campaigns — from the nightstand. She grabs you by the neck, pushing you down into the bed with her looming figure pressed up against you.

In a chaos of emotions, you reach the peak of pleasure just like that, your mouth agape and tongue hanging out as your thighs tremble, insides twitching as if they want to keep Feixiao there forever.

The storm within you hardens even more, making you let out a painful moan as your orgasm dies down.

In the midst of the delirious haze, she takes her time, thrusting in abandon into you as she continues to play with your pussy, ordering you to sit up on your knees. When you are firmly perched on her magical cock, she grips ‘round your love handles roughly, like intended, mounting for the final round what is rightfully hers. Her hand sneaks to your mound again, swirling around the sensitive nub, collecting the slick and pushing it back between your folds.

Her other hand leaves your chest, moving downwards to fist her shaft, squeezing at the base. It pulses and grows inside you, throbbing even more than before; it makes you whine like in heat, wanting to sink into the mattress, yet she is still there, holding you, chasing her own release.

You slide against the headboard of the bed, curling your back and sobbing at how oversensitive you become. She says something to you, but you cannot hear, all your senses clouded by the blood rushing through your veins, your chest waving with each gasp.

Once she pulls out, it makes a wet sound that rings in your ears and sends shivers down your spine. You shake with relief as she slaps her cock against your thigh, thick beads of clear liquid dripping down your skin. Her eyes glint at this, before she lunges forward to lick it off you, hissing when she presses her mouth against your burning skin.

“G-general!” You moan, raising your palm to push her off, not gifted with her stamina to keep going. “Please, cease at last… I cannot!”

Feixiao gazes up at you from between your legs, digging her sharp teeth into your flesh as she sits up, pouting with your juices smeared all over her chin.

“A pity,” she grunts, fingers splayed on your thighs, kneading them roughly and sinking her fingertips in. She admires the lines left behind by her nails, eyes shining wickedly as she glances at your sweaty form. A strand of hair has fallen onto your face, sticking to your cheek, your ribcage heaving up and down with each shaky exhale. “Yet you did exceptionally well, bunny!”

“A-anything for you, my general.”

There and then you hear her huff whilst she licks her lips and nuzzles into your stomach, like a wolf after a successful hunt — a mass of muscles and heat slumping down to relax.

You let her rest for a while, with her breathing turning steady. She leaves a trail of drool and love bites on your stomach, humming as you thread your fingers through her hair. You massage her scalp with your fingers and brush the coarse tips of her fluffy ears that flick with contentment. There’s no strength left in you, but the duty to care for your lover is too strong. A thin film of sweat glistens on her skin, dotted with goosebumps from the night chill.

The beast has been satiated. For how long, no one knows. For tonight, for sure, and you’re glad she has wore herself down enough to fall asleep with her neck heavy on your lap.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — jokes aside, i really hope i did somewhat well and didn’t get lost in describing weird thing that is a cock made of stormy clouds lmao </3 it’s not really my first time writing adult content with fem characters and fem reader, but definitely my first time posting such fics. thank you very much for reading!

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr smut #feixiao x reader #feixiao x you #feixiao smut #writing.

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year ago

Text

trouble, m | jjk

... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Panic coursed throughout his veins.

“I can’t be here.”

And maybe a little bit of arousal too.

“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”

He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.

Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.

Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.

Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.

Like he said, he was in trouble.

Tomorrow.

The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.

I hope your friends ask about me.

The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.

The devil was in the details.

“Hello? Did you space out again?”

Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”

Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”

“R… Right.”

He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”

Jungkook choked.

That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.

Mind a billion thoughts a minute.

You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.

Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.

Or more savagely.

You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.

Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?

Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.

“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.

You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.

Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.

Hah.

You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.

Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.

You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.

You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.

Thanks, brain.

Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.

Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.

Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.

If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.

Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.

Hah, what a bother.

You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.

Yup.

Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.

The looking glass showed you two ways.

You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.

Hmmmm.

Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.

What the–

You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.

At goddamn McDonald’s?

Is no place sacred?

It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.

Your fingers framing your face.

You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.

Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.

Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.

“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”

What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.

You envied their desire for silence.

Because you had to be loud.

You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.

“P-Please…”

His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.

“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”

You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.

This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.

Actually.

That sounded very dramatic.

And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.

Cut out all that risky business.

It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.

Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.

But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.

She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.

He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.

Holy fuck.

Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.

Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?

And, four.

Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.

He had to cover his ass.

Speaking of.

Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.

Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.

She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He gasped and screamed under his breath.

The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed.

Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.

“C… Careful…. P-Please…”

Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.

He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.

He did not.

I’m in trouble.

He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?

Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.

“Ready?” she hummed.

“Y- Yeah…”

In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.

Jungkook didn’t even care.

He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.

“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”

She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.

He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.

Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.

Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.

He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.

“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”

She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”

His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.

“I… I usually last longer…”

“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”

Her sex saved his life.

Her next words murdered him on the spot.

“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”

Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.

You could admit it.

You shouldn’t have said that.

But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.

Right?

Wrong.

You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.

Aw, shit.

You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.

Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.

You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.

“Gah!”

“Oh!”

And he grabbed your waist.

Of course, he did.

Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.

You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.

“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”

You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.

Didn’t want to know.

Better not to know.

“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.

“You’re not in my way.”

You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.

“Actually… Please be in my way.”

You froze.

Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.

You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.

“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.

An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.

“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.

You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.

No.

This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Jimin was stifling his giggles.

You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.

“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”

Oh no.

“Stay right there!”

Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”

But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.

“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.

You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”

Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.

Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.

“Uh…”

You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”

“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

Your knee touched his.

He looked at you.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.

“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”

“What?”

You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.

“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”

People only get into relationships for shitty sex.

Right?

I want to be around him.

“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”

You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.

Close enough for you to remember.

“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”

“Yeah, give me your number.”

She asked for it like it was easy.

Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.

“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”

“Wait, give me your number.”

She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.

“I want it,” he breathed.

Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.

Like she was trying to hold back.

“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”

“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.

“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.

What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.

Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.

They don’t like you.

You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.

You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.

Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.

Jungkook wanted you.

That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.

He was just waiting for you to start it off.

You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.

I’m in so much trouble, fuck.

You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.

You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

What is this?

You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.

“I c-can’t…”

His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.

“Can’t t-take it anymore…”

Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.

You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.

He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.

He’s too desperate to be a liar.

You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.

I want you.

He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.

“I w-want you…”

He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.

You saw what Jungkook was saying.

He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.

You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…

Until.

“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.

Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.

How could you refuse him?

You just couldn’t.

I’m so fucked.

Truly, madly, deeply fucked.

Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.

“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.

Harder?!

Was she trying to kill him?

She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.

He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.

He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.

It wasn’t enough.

Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.

He let his eyes flicker up.

Gasping, baring his depravity.

She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.

“Cum on me, Jungkook.”

Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.

Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.

Her cum and her perfume.

He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.

Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”

Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.

No, know that she really meant what she said.

His heart fluttered. Took flight.

No.

Soared.

They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.

He was sure.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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kashverse · 17 hours ago

Text

it is a rite of passage for every child to have a pet, and when it is finally babykuna’s turn, sukuna—being the extra man that he is—does not just take her to a normal pet shop. no, no, no. he takes her to an exotic pet shop. because why settle for a goldfish when she could have a tarantula named missy? or maybe a snake called george? wouldn’t a scorpion be so much cooler? apparently not. because out of all the fascinating, unique, and terrifying creatures in the shop, babykuna walks past them all—ignores the lizards, dismisses the sugar gliders, doesn’t even look at the parrot that screeches a greeting at her—

and stops dead in front of a massive maine coon that is currently squished into a cage far too small for its body. the cat—fluffy, fat, and looking seconds away from sighing like a disappointed victorian orphan—locks eyes with babykuna. babykuna gasps, pressing her tiny hands against the cage. "mama! papa! it’s him!"

sukuna furrows his brows. "what?"

"him! my pet! my baby! my everything!"

you squint at the cat. it looks back at you like it’s seen some shit. "baby, are you sure?" you ask gently, glancing at the other animals. "there are so many cool options, what about—"

"NO!"

babykuna throws herself onto the ground, wailing like she’s in a period drama. sukuna jumps in alarm. "oi, oi, what the fuck, don’t start—"

before he can finish, the cat in the cage suddenly lets out a long, tragic, soul-crushing howl—as if mourning a life it never got to live.

the entire store falls silent.

"…what the fuck was that," sukuna hisses, visibly unsettled. babykuna gasps again, sitting up. "mr pickles! papa said a bad word!"

"mr…pickles?" sukuna repeats, looking at the cat like it personally offended him. "why is its name mr pickles?"

"because he is my son," babykuna says matter-of-factly, wiping away her fake tears. “and my heart knows his true name.” you press your lips together to keep from laughing. "mr pickles is a cute name, love."

"no, it’s not," sukuna grumbles, rubbing his temples. "baby, listen, papa will get you anything else, okay? you want a wolfdog? a komodo dragon? a fucking capybara?"

babykuna sobs.

"I WANT MR PICKLESSSSSSSSSS—!"

mr pickles, from inside his cage, lets out a sorrowful “AAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOHHH—”

and that is how the fourth member of the family—a fat, depressed maine coon named mr pickles—came to be. turns out, despite his tragic victorian orphan appearance, mr pickles is actually a sweetheart. not only does he fulfill his feline duties—lounging around, occasionally chasing invisible ghosts, and knocking over things just for fun—he also doubles as babykuna’s personal weighted blanket. and let’s be honest, nothing has ever knocked babykuna out quite like mr pickles’ fluffy, oversized body.

she sleeps like a brick, snoring so loudly that you once thought a grown man had somehow broken into the house and passed out in her room. but there she was—wrapped around mr pickles like a koala, drool dripping onto his fur, dead to the world. and mr pickles? he doesn’t complain even once. in fact, he doesn’t even move. just lies there, accepting his fate, staring blankly into the void while babykuna uses him as her personal mattress. what a versatile king. in fact, mr pickles has so many roles in this household.

a cat? yes.

a weighted blanket? absolutely.

a luxury aesthetic background for your new nail set photos? oh, you better believe it.

you take a picture of your freshly done nails—perfectly manicured, sitting against the soft, plush fur of mr pickles, the perfect neutral background. you send it to sukuna. he normally loves seeing your nails, but this time—his eyebrow twitches as he recognizes the background.

sukuna: are you using that fucking cat as a backdrop again you: mr pickles is an aesthetic marvel. sukuna: i will throw that thing in the washing machine

you report him to babykuna, who screeches in betrayal and slaps his arm like she’s defending her child from a monster. but let’s be real—the best thing about mr pickles? his impeccable manners.

the moment he finishes eating from his bowl, he delicately pushes it towards the sink—like some kind of distinguished gentleman disposing of his fine china. it is so polite that you almost want to give him a little bowtie. sukuna watches this with a blank face. “i feel like i should be impressed, but i also feel like i’m being manipulated.” and maybe, just maybe, he would grow to respect this cat.

except.

mr pickles is a hater. specifically, a sukuna hater. because whenever it comes to sukuna’s belongings? suddenly, mr pickles is the menace of the household.

one night, sukuna walks into the laundry room to grab his freshly washed, neatly pressed shirts, only to find mr pickles sprawled on top of them, looking at him with such deep, sorrowful eyes that sukuna physically cannot yell at him. he stares. mr pickles blinks slowly.

"…get the fuck off."

mr pickles closes his eyes and pretends to sleep.

"GET OFF."

the very next day, sukuna screams when he finds all of his socks shredded into oblivion—like someone went berserk with a pair of scissors. babykuna gasps, pointing at mr pickles. “papa! it was mr pickles!”

sukuna whirls to glare at the culprit. "you little shit—!"

mr pickles blinks at him, looking once again like a victorian boy with consumption.

sukuna’s rage stutters.

"…you think you’re funny, huh?"

mr pickles does not reply.

(but he does later eat an entire stack of sukuna’s important business papers™ and then vomits them out on the living room carpet.)

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llamagoddessofficial · 7 months ago

Note

How about headcannons for fae Nightmare are fav Winter King??

You're in a relationship with two Nightmare's, really.

The first Nightmare is the King. Overwhelmingly powerful, aloof, wickedly intelligent, stern but with a strong sense of justice, (privately) very caring and gentle. This Nightmare is the one you spend the vast majority of your time with. He flirts like a courtly prince... he ballroom dances with you on glittering midwinter nights, he reads you poetry by dwindling firelight. He gifts you the finest gowns and furs, matched only in craftsmanship by his own, he puts crystal necklaces around your neck and silver rings on your fingers. He kisses your knuckles and takes you on long romantic horse rides, he has a winter flower garden made for you, he wraps his cloak around your shoulders when you're tired. This is the Nightmare that has been tempered by hundreds of years of rule. The man he shows the world; the man he wants to be, for you.

... Then there's the other Nightmare. The one underneath. The one that never recovered from the wound to his skull, nor the betrayal he felt after.

That Nightmare is furious. Ragged. Desperately tired, hates everything but you. Wildly possessive - barely holding back from clawing out the eyes of anyone who looks your way. Starving for your love, but absolutely terrified of what that means. Wants to sink his teeth into you and never let go.

Generally, the first Nightmare is excellent at covering up the second, he's had centuries to practise. But you catch glimpses. That's the Nightmare who sees a courtier aggressively flirting with you at a feast, and takes them outside to beat them within an inch of their life and leave them bleeding in the snow. That's the Nightmare that drinks a little too much wine and won't let go of your wrist all evening. The Nightmare who draws you like he's trying to capture you forever in the paper; the one who pulls you closer to him in the middle of the night. The Nightmare that stares jealously at people who make you laugh, only just covering his tracks and laughing along when he realises he's being intimidating.

He's very gentle with you. He'll never raise his voice at you.

He's got a surprisingly playful side. For all his gloomy seriousness, he seems to take quite a bit of joy in teasing you. The other skeletons are jarred by the sight of you teasing him back - that's a luxury no one else in either kingdom can afford.

Killer has his stray cats. Nightmare has his beloved horse, the eighteen-hand beast that bites off hands and kicks in heads. She has an obvious soft spot for you. Only you and Nightmare can mount her.

Nightmare also has some (equally beloved) massive hunting hounds who resemble dire wolves more than dogs. They look terrifying and vicious, coming and going from the castle as they please, often disappearing as a pack into the wilderness for days. When Nightmare isn't around, alongside the usual trio of Killer Dust and Horror looking after you, you'll have some massive fluffy good boys as excellent bodyguards.

Nightmare can be... difficult. He isn't very good at expressing himself; he lies about how he feels to make you feel better, getting the truth out of him is getting blood from a stone. He's a romantic, he wants to look after you, he wants everything to be about you. He's happy when you're happy and his own wants are far too messy and scary to unpack. Gifting you another set of sapphire earrings is much easier than admitting he's massively insecure and just wants you to stay in bed with him all day, cradling his skull and telling him you care.

... All that being said... you will never know loyalty like his. Many people say they would 'wait a thousand years' for their partner.

He actually would.

#llamagines #fae au #bad sanses

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just-some-user-hunny · 6 months ago

Text

Bastard readers dynamic in the family...

(Implied yandere targarians, heavily implied fem!reader)

With Daemon, it's full of one-sided hostility and fire. Ever since he took you from your little home, with your little bed of warm scrapped fur and the comforting presence of your mother, he's been the monster. The monster that snatched you away. His abduction seemed very... Him, to begin with. Spontaneous, mad, rebellious. But something in him drove him to take you. His blood, his dragonfire. Aegon may allow his little silver haired bastards to roam and survive on scraps, but Daemon is too proud of his blood to do so. You are his. His daughter. Your rebellion and fight against him does deal him pain, but it also drives him further. You may deny it as much as you like, but you are his little mirror. His reflection of spitting fire and anger. From a teary eyed toddler stomping their foot, to a mirthful teenager with poison in their eyes- it matters to him. His little dragon.

And since dragons share their emotions with their riders, these controlling and obsessive feelings do not limit to only Daemon. Ceraxes is an extension of your father, another pair of eyes and a tongue of fire that always hovers and opresses you. As a little child, Daemon often took you to ride dragon back upon the blood wyrm- a form of bonding as he liked to put it. Ceraxes would chirp and fixate on you, his mirthful grin wide like a shark as he stares at you. He purrs and growls in your presence, seeing you as a precious extension of his rider. His little human. He's very protective of you, but also very controlling. You step a foot out of line and he's hovering over you like a frightening serpent. There's no fire in his throat, but his frightening teeth glint in warning.

Rhaenyra adores you. You'll be the daughter she never had, and although at first she was furious to see her husband return with a screaming kicking bastard child in his arms, it didn't take her long to fall in love with you.

Although she adores her sweet boys, a small discreet part of her yearned for a precious little daughter of her own. A little girl to dress and adore and spoil, to give her everything. Rhaenary is a warm and loving person towards you, often placating your little sobs and warbled pouts with taking you in her arms and hushing you with soft loving words. Everything is alright, you're ok. If she's not soothing you with motherly words, then she's showering you in gifts of dragon glass figures and dresses. She herself adores her jewels and gowns, so she sees it only fitting that you too get the same luxurious treatment.

Syrax is doting and sweet to you, just like her rider. You're the only other person besides Rhaenary who may touch her. The golden dragon would preen and coo at you whenever you are within her line of sight, bowing her head low for affection. She purrs and coos, huffing hot dragon breath into your face to make you smile- even just a little. She allows you to touch the rough scales on her face, her own smile almost matching the warmth of your stepmother.

Dragon Rides with rhaenary are always more tolerable- the days are always warm and tame, blue skies and her wings riding upon blossoming clouds of gold and lavender. Rhaenary holds you close to her, a buckled harness added to her saddle especially for you.

Viserys is old and soft, and although his presence has always remained as the silvery old willowed man who sits upon the frightening throne made of jagged blades and glinting metal, he has always been passive with you. As your uncle, and the king, hes always handled you with a soft yet dismissive hand. He may not always acknowledge you that often, but when he does, it's always pleasant and filled with ramblings of creative art mediums and whatnot. If you were to ever show interest in his built figures and constructions, he'd be delighted. He may be your first influence into creative outlets- either it be through painting,embroidery, calligraphy, or to his hopes, figure making. Despite your bastard heritage, he's rather accepting of you. His brother is wild and untamed, always off doing something peculiar and explosive- you are the least destructive thing he's created by far. You are also a source of joy for his daughter, Rhaenary, so he cannot be too harsh upon you living in DragonStone.

Balarion is long gone, his monstrously large skull glinting in golden candlelight within the cold stone walls. But viserys often ponder over your fascination with the war dragons remains, and you may get an earful of old stories that sang their songs long ago. Aegon the conqueror... The black dread with midnight flame... Bringing kingdoms to their knees or reduced to piles of ash. Your heritage is a painful one, dear, but it is powerful. You have the blood of Aegon the conqueror in your veins. You have the blood of the dragon. Be proud of it, for you have no choice.

Jacaerys and Lucerys, despite being shocked and confused by your arrival- like any wide eyed little children, grew to love you. They watched with their dark eyes as Prince Daemon returned with a shrieking and sobbing little girl, clutching the skirts of their mother and whispering little words or confusion and curiosity. Who's that? Where's her mummy?

Even when they are made aware of your bastard heritage, they still love you. Jace will often murmur words of encouragement to you when he sees you look upset or down about something, and Luce will happily take you by the hand and lead you off to read and teach you high valarian. You're off-putting at first, still upset with your new living situation. Because they're not your brother's, you don't know them! Your brothers are back at your house, probably still wailing for your return. As a child you were probably filled with stubbornness, often attempting to stray from their sights, hoping to sever any form of connection before it can begin- both from rebellion, but also from fear of betraying your own little siblings. But these boys are stubborn too, and want to do things with you like any brother would. They want you to read to them. To watch them train, to practice languages and swordsmanship, to watch them ride their dragons and impress you with dragonfire and daring swoops. To them, you're their sister. Just please- give them a chance?

I'll probably get more Cannibal stuff out, but I thought the dynamic of bastard reader within the family would be interesting. I don't often see people expanding on the relationships one would have with their forced families dragons either, considering the dragons are very emotionally connected with their riders, I thought it'd be interesting to expand on this idea!

Also I may do more with team green, but I'm still figuring out what kind of relationships the reader would have with them. I'm definitely making bastard reader close friends with Helaena, she's honestly the chillest person in that whole family 😅

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere viserys targaryen #bastard!reader #fem reader #bastard! princess reader

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tartagliove · 29 days ago

Text

EASY ON THE EYES, EASIER TO HATE. tartaglia x reader ✧ 2.7k words

when the fae raid your village to take humans into their realm, you think you’ll be safe in the woods. but you run into a fae who introduces himself as tartaglia and realize it might have been safer for you to stay at home.

tags and warnings ✧ fae!tartaglia, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used), reader sews and tailors clothes for a living, the fae are pretty brutal, mentions of violence, (ajax licks) blood and tears, chasing (predator prey dynamic), manhandling, all enemies and no lovers (only tension oops). note ✧ this is a darker fic compared to most of my writing; please let me know if I need to tag anything else! title inspired by the song "psycho" by taylor acorn. a gift for @cruel-hiraeth for teahouse's secret santa! happy new year, kae! i hope this fic helps you start off the year right by loving hating tartaglia >u< this was lots of fun to write hehe and got a little long because the au ran away from me... i hope you enjoy! love you lots <3

The snow falls thick and fast, yet the village continues to burn. Screams and shouts of villagers, mixed with the clashing of metal, rise above the roar of devouring flames of blue.

The fae are here.

They pull people out of their beds, pushing them into the streets. Turn their faces toward the light of a burning house—looking for the beautiful humans, still young and nimble. Or searching for evidence of skill in the arts; a pretty face matters little if one can produce beautiful things in ways that the fae cannot. Those who fail to meet the fae’s standards are left alone, shivering and watching in the cold.

The humans the fae deem acceptable meet a much worse fate. They are picked up and thrown in the back of carts, drawn by horses with ears too long and manes too wild, their coats unusually glossy and vibrant. The chosen who try to escape are bound with rope that cruelly digs into skin. Those who try to fight are taken down brutally, then laughed at as they writhe on the ground—though the fae make sure no permanent damage is done, for that would defeat the purpose of the raid.

A fae bearing a torch of blue flames brings it up to the walls of each house of those who have been chosen. The blue catches on the wood unnaturally quickly, spreading with a voracious hunger despite the wind and snow. Within the hour, nothing will remain besides a pile of ash.

But by then, the fae and the chosen villagers will be long gone.

You are lucky that sleep is so elusive tonight.

Earlier, after tossing and turning in bed for ages, you give up on trying to fall asleep. It is hard to leave your dog who has curled up beside you in a ball of white fluff, but you press a kiss between her ears before changing into some warmer layers. You sweep a thick winter cloak over your shoulders. It is the most luxurious piece of clothing you own; a beautiful dark green cloth lined with fur, decorated by unfinished hand-embroidered leaves and flowers and bunnies—a project you’ve been chipping away at this winter. Putting on boots that have long since been molded to the shape of your feet, you leave your house to catch some fresh air and possibly tire yourself out along the way.

The blanket of pure white is beautiful. The full moon makes everything glitter as snow stretches from the outskirts of the village into the forests beyond. Snowflakes continue to fall, decorating your hair and eyelashes with diamonds, while the shoulders of your cloak become dusted in sugar.

It is so quiet out here. The whistling of the wind and the thoughts in your head are the only sounds you hear. You are used to this, though. Every day you sew and tailor clothes in the back of the village’s clothing store, often alone for hours on end with nothing but your thoughts for company.

A strong gust of wind rocks you on your feet. Clutching your cloak tighter and tossing the fur-lined hood up over your head, you turn your back on the forest to face the trail of footsteps you’ve made through the snow. You should head home.

Still, you take your time approaching the village. The snow dances around you and you can’t help but indulge in a spin, cloak sweeping out around you in a swirl of deep green. Your huff of laughter is stolen by the wind, but the delight within you remains.

Then the first scream rips through the night.

You freeze. Scanning the houses on the outskirts of the village reveals no dangers.

Another cry follows the first and you know something must be terribly wrong.

You start running toward the village, kicking up snow as your mind races. Perhaps someone is getting robbed—but no one in town would dare. Or based on the growing amount of cries and shouts, maybe something happened that has injured a lot of people. A fire?

As you make it to the buildings, you see that you are right. Fire engulfs one of the homes on the far side of town, the flames reaching for the sky. A shudder runs through you at the sight, for the flames are unnaturally blue, and though this is the first time you’ve seen such a thing, you have heard of the stories and warnings about the cyan fire and those that accompany it.

You will not let the fae take you.

Whirling around, you sprint for the woods. The screams of the other villagers ring in your ears, but you know it is impossible for you to take on a single fae, let alone an army of them. They are here to steal humans away. For what, you’re not sure, but it can’t be for anything good. Though you doubt they would choose to take you, the best way to make sure you can see the sunrise tomorrow is to hide in the woods and avoid them all.

Reaching the treeline seems to take ages. You keep looking over your shoulder as you run, half expecting to have been spotted, but you only see more and more flames of blue burning houses to the ground.

Your heart skips a beat at the thought of your home being set ablaze—your dog!—but then you remember the fae only burn the houses of the humans they take and relief washes over you.

With your thoughts consumed by the safety of your dog, you don’t notice that you have slowed, trying to catch your breath in the midst of the trees. Nor do you notice that you aren’t alone anymore, until the newcomer starts speaking.

“My, my. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Dread sinks like a stone in your stomach. You spin, eyes wide as they land on the source of those playful and teasing words, leaning against a nearby tree with his arms crossed.

You know he is fae right away by his unnatural beauty. His hair glimmers a coppery orange under the light of the full moon, all windswept and dusted in snow. His eyes seem to glow as they scan you from head to toe, a blue just a shade darker than that of the flames destroying the village. Ears taper into a fine point and from his left one dangles a deep red crystal that only makes you think of blood. He smiles, then, as you observe him. His canines are sharp and long, like that of a fox, and you are frozen with wide, shining eyes of a bunny.

He hums and tilts his head. It is then that you remember he asked a question, and your throat works to find your voice to answer him. “I was out for a stroll,” you manage to say, words somehow steady despite your fluttering pulse.

It’s a half-truth, but half-truths are half-lies, and there’s the slightest hint of bitterness in the back of Ajax’s throat that always accompanies humans’ lies. “Oh, really? And was that before or after we made our presence known?”

“Before, actually,” you tell him honestly. “I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a walk. The snow is beautiful and the moon is bright—it’s pretty, is it not?” If you talk enough, maybe he’ll lose interest so you can make a run for it. You don’t know much about fae, but with the way he’s dressed in nicer clothing than what most men in your village wear, surely he won’t care for running through the snowy forest.

He smiles. “It is pretty.” His eyes refuse to leave your frame, and a shiver runs through you. You don’t think he’s talking solely about the snow.

Pushing off the tree, he takes a few steps forward, nearly silent despite the boots he wears. He stops when you stiffen, clutching your cloak tighter in your hands. “Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Tartaglia,” he says, picking one of his many names to give you. “And you are?”

You press your lips together and force a smile. Even you know not to give the fae your name, no matter how much of a gentleman he is pretending to be. Your stomach rolls, unease making your heart rate pick up again. “I’m-” You see the way he perks up in interest, expecting a name. “I’m leaving,” you spit out, turn on your heels, and run.

Ajax watches you leave, the green of your cloak billowing out behind you like a rabbit’s tail inviting him to chase. He laughs, throwing his head back as the sound erupts from his throat. “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his breath beading in the winter air.

He had not intended to take you back to the fae realm, but then you had to go and run. And he wouldn’t dare to let all your hard work go to waste—so he’ll participate in the delightful hunt you’ve set up for him.

The ground is uneven beneath your feet. It is hard to tell where the tree roots are under the thick layer of snow and each breath of air feels like tiny needles stabbing your lungs. But you push on, feet pounding as quickly as you can force yourself to go.

You want to be as far away from that fae as you can get. He had not looked like he was going to chase you when you last saw him, laughing as you ran away, but there was a look in his eyes that pushed you to keep running.

When you toss a quick glance over your shoulder, your breath hitches and terror rushes through you.

He’s there. In the distance, but you can see him, weaving through the trees at an inhuman pace, his long legs carrying him far. He is gaining on you and you fear what he will do when he catches you.

You push yourself to run even harder, but your legs burn and your throat feels tight. In your haste, you fail to see the lower hanging branches of a nearby tree. A cry tears from your lips as a thin branch slices through the skin of your cheek, but you barely feel the pain with your face nearly frozen from the cold.

“Ouch,” the fae calls after you. His voice is loud and clear, and you know he’s only getting closer. “Don’t hurt yourself too much trying to escape, okay?”

Through your huffs for air, you manage to shout back at him. “Piss off! Leave me alone!”

Ajax grins, closing the distance. “I don’t think I will,” he says.

He lunges forward and grabs a fistful of your cloak. You stumble from the pull, tripping over your feet. He uses the momentum to spin you around, pushing you backward until you hit a tree, forcing the air from your lungs. His body presses against yours right after, caging you in with one leg wedged between your own.

“Let go of me!” you shout, slamming your fists into his chest. You try shoving all of your weight into him but he simply presses back harder until his chest is flush against yours.

He laughs—laughs!—as you struggle against him, kicking and yelling and throwing your weight from side to side. He does not budge at all under the onslaught. You do everything you can, but only wear yourself out, leaning back against the tree to catch your breath.

“Are you done?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. “If not, I can do this all night.”

His reaction makes your blood boil, most of your fear buried beneath anger. You glare down past his arm that still grips your cloak and catch sight of a sliver of pale skin peeking through the folds of his clothes. Moving your gaze back up to his face, you spit out, “I hope you die.”

And then you dig your nails into the exposed skin of his stomach, sink your teeth into the arm holding onto your cloak, and shove with all your might.

Ajax stumbles backward.

You rip yourself out of his hold, twist your body to the side, taking one step forward, free-

Arms wrap around your waist and throw you back toward the tree. Your feet catch on his boot, making you lose your balance, perfect for Ajax to maneuver your body as he wills. This time, he pins your hands above your head, one large hand grasping your wrists, while his other arm presses as an immovable bar across your collarbones. One leg forces its way between your own, and you realize you are at this fae’s mercy, pinned like a prized butterfly in a collection; all pretty and helpless, on display for him to study.

You look down. You don’t want to see the anger on his face before he retaliates for your actions.

The arm across your chest shifts and you flinch as gloved fingers grab your chin, firm but not painful as he tilts your head, forcing you to look at him. You’re taken aback by the grin on his face, canines bared and bloodthirsty, but his eyes are amused.

“Try that again, I dare you.” His voice is rough and yet it doesn’t sound like a threat.

Your eyes grow wide. This kind of a creature is not one you will be able to escape, at least not now—unarmed except for your teeth and nails.

Ajax lets go of your chin, pulling back slightly. He’s delighted by the fire within you. When he first saw you, running toward the woods, he simply thought you a pretty coward. But oh you dared to fight back, using what little defenses humans naturally have, and you even broke skin. Though his fae blood allows him to rapidly heal, the sensation of your nails digging into his abdomen is not one he’ll forget anytime soon.

As he looks away from your face to take you all in, now that you’re not struggling to escape, his gaze catches on your cloak. His eyes light up, tracing over the exquisitely stitched leaves and plants of various green threads, mixed occasionally with lively bunnies of soft browns. There’s a rabbit still unfinished, just a cute head and perked ears, awaiting its body to bring it to life.

“Did you make this?” Ajax asks, thumb brushing over the embroidery.

“No,” you gasp, heart sinking.

He tastes the lie and grins. “That’s not true now, is it?”

It’s over. Now that he knows you are skilled at sewing, he has all the reasons he needs to bring you into his realm. Despair is a heavy weight, mixed with frustration and anger. Tears well in your eyes and slide down the curves of your face. A few droplets spread into the cut on your left cheek, mixing with the beading blood that stains your skin.

Ajax is enchanted. Has he ever seen a human so beautiful?

He can’t stop himself from leaning in even closer until his nose nearly presses against your ear. There’s a moment where you hear him inhale. Then his tongue swipes up your cheek, lapping up tears and blood. His groan of delight is overlapped by your whimper, the cut on your cheek stinging as fear flows through your veins.

His fingers grip your chin again and he turns your head to the other side. Warmth travels up your cheek as he licks your tears, before pulling away with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

As you gasp for breath, he takes in the sight of more tears streaming down your face, shed in mourning for the loss of your life in the human world. Shudders run through you until your tears slow, giving time for your heart to harden. Slowly, you open your eyes to meet his gaze, yours now blazing with fury and hatred.

Ajax grins, taking in the vision before him. “You’re perfect.”

note ✧ ajax makes you point out your home and he gets to dig through your stuff as you collect a few things to take with you. don't worry, doggo gets to come with and is treated very well (fae like animals more than humans, usually).

this is not quite the type of thing i usually write, but i hope it was still an enjoyable read! i'd love to hear what you think c:

#childe x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin x reader #reader insert #genshin impact x reader #childe x you #posts this and goes to bed so i don't have to look any of you in the eyes GOODNIGHT #my writing #my writing: fic #fanfic: genshin #fanfic: tartaglia #tw: suggestive #<- just in case #my writing: easy on the eyes easier to hate

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daylite-writes · 7 months ago

Text

“A healers Blunt Teeth” (Pt 2) ft. Capitano x Healer!Reader

(Pt 1 here)

He did take you back to Snezhnaya with him, leaving you alone in a manor. The discomfort you feel at not having received a single letter since he departed was surely not from you loving him or anything. Surely.

cws: very mild yandere, mild cultural insensitivity (on behalf of staff), and misunderstandings.

1.6k words

~~~

You didn’t expect the… luxury.

You suppose you should have.

He was a harbinger after all. When he stepped foot in Snezhnaya—you under his arm, of course—you didn’t get the best first impression. Cold, snowy forests of pine with the ridges of icy mountains lining the horizon. But the deeper you ventured into his home, the more his influence became apparent.

Entire villages greeted the expedition with deep bows and offerings of food and housing. You slept in beds made for the cold, among rabbit fur and goose down.

He never batted an eye, but that wasn’t unusual. Be it dry dirt or luxurious bedspreads, Capitano was content.

You expected him to continue onwards with you, towards the Tsaritsa’s palace, the expedition's final destination you’d heard mentioned a thousand times in his meetings.

Evidently, you were wrong about that part, being as you were lounging in the bay window Capitano’s manor, alone except for a staff of loyalists.

As your… Partner? ‘Boyfriend’ maybe—no, that was far too juvenile. Not master either, he hated that term, and it no longer adequately described the complex relations between you two.

Being Capitano’s someone-of-significance had him deciding to dump you into a remote manor somewhere in Snezhnaya, leaving with a quick kiss and a promise to return home after his meeting with the Tsaritsa.

He dragged you all the way to Snezhnaya, and didn’t even let you go with him to the palace.

Angrily—and yes, it was anger. Not loneliness or longing or any other emotion the young maids would describe it as, accented by dreamy sighs as they theorized about you and his’ beautiful courtship—you tore the page of sheet music from the book propped in front of you.

Music was too hard and it made your fingers hurt.

You’d spent the better parts of two weeks in the manor, and it was boring. You were out of your depths, the maids knowing more about noble and elite life than you ever imagined anyone could know.

One of the maids said it herself not long after your arrival. “You’re nothing like what I imagined Capitano’s fiancé would be. Of course, none of us really know his preferences. But if not a warrior, I’d thought you may have been a noblewoman, knowledgeable about music or literature, or perhaps cooking. I once served a noblewoman who made very exquisite cuisine.”

“We’re not engaged.” You’d said, a bit breathless as she tightened the corset.

The other maids who’d been fluttering about shushed her a bit too aggressively for you to consider it noble.

You’d ignored them, until one of the shier ones spoke up. “If I may ask, my lady… how did you two meet?”

“I was a healer in Natlan working for a group of bandits. He won me by right of combat, and eventually we began… well.” You waved your hand, summing up the obvious physical and emotional relations with proper censorship but no denial. “I’m not quite sure what to call the two of us.”

The maids were stunned, and you remembered that such things as that weren’t normal in other nations. You opened your mouth, hoping to amend their opinions of you, but one of them spoke first—

“Oh so he saved you! How romantic!”

The session devolved into a series of awws. They giggled and tousled your hair as they fixed it up, rambling aloud about the romantic scenario.

It took everything in you to not take it personally. To remember that these were the daughters of affluent families who could not afford to marry off another daughters, but could land them a cushy spot working under a harbinger in a non-combatant role. Who probably spent their youths reading fairy tales instead of fighting or healing the way you had.

You rolled your eyes, letting the girls have their fun. These young women were your only friends in this new place after all. There was little point to complain.

~~~

It was clear Capitano would be coming home soon.

There was a certain buzz among the staff. Tasks that were once laxly carried out only when there was time for it were now being performed rigorously and thoroughly. Floors once mopped were now being scrubbed by servants on their hands and knees. Libraries lightly dusted once or twice a week were practically being done by the hour.

There was a buzz among your hand maids as well. They became very, very particular about your appearance. Every day your hair was to be done up in what you can only assume are traditional northern styles. The soft comfortable outfits you’d taken preference to gently batted aside and replaced with expensive tailored dresses, with beaded bodices and tulle that reached partway down your legs.

Refusing such things also made your hand maids very nervous. A lot of ‘are you sure’-s and ‘but my lady!’-s.

From this, you quickly figured out that he’d be back any day now.

So, when you spotted a horse drawn carriage trotting up the path to your manor from a window, you knew what expectations they had.

Greet him at the door, preferably warmly, probably with a kiss, and then follow him around like a lost puppy.

You rolled your eyes before going back to failing to play the violin.

“Um, miss?” One of your handmaids said softly. “Your… Lord Harbinger Capitano seems to be arriving.”

“Mm.” The violin screeched at you as you clumsily played it.

“I… alright. Miss.”

It wasn’t that you hated Capitano. Or that you didn’t want to see him. You were a bird in a golden cage, yes, but Capitano never bothered to close the door, and you never bothered flying out. It was just—

He didn’t even write to you.

The violin made quite an annoying sound as you pressed a bit too hard on the bow, its wavering screech the perfect sound to accompany the grind of your teeth.

Sure, he was undoubtedly busy, but that didn’t erase the embarrassment you’d experience every time you had to ask if any mail for you—any letters from him—came through, only to be told not so much as a word had come from his lord. Didn’t erase the feeling of being some discarded housewife while your lover galivants around the country without you—

The violin had picked up a sharp, angry tune as you played the song through all your little mistakes, not stopping even as you played incorrect notes or lost your place, you could hardly hear it through the rant in your head.

“I see you’ve picked up the violin.” Him.

Immediately, your song stopped. You hadn’t realized he’d entered, hadn’t realized you missed his voice.

“L-Lord Harbinger!” You maid squeaked, bowing. Capitano must have made some motion to her, as she left the room quickly after.

He stayed silent for a moment, and you stayed turned towards the window. “… why are you upset with me?”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you upset with me.” He repeated again, and you suddenly noticed how much closer he was to you. You didn’t hear the footsteps as he loomed over your shoulder.

“I…”

“Has the accommodations been insufficient? Was the staff unpleasant? I’ll have them dead in an instant if they were who upset you against me.” His hand, gloved, tilted your head back by the chin so you had to look up at him. Into the dark maw of his uniform.

“No Captain…”

“Then why? Why have you refused me the right to be greeted home by my woman? The right to see you as I’ve longed to? There must be something wrong, considering you haven't so much as responded to a single letter-”

“You wrote me?” You said all too quickly when you heard the words come from the man over you. Distantly, you chastised yourself for the almost desperate way you asked it. Like a woman starved for water.

He stilled, putting together the pieces easily. “Ah, so that’s what it is. Yes, I wrote to you many times, my healer.”

“I didn’t receive any.”

The hand that was lifting your face up shifted to the side, idly messing with a lock of your hair before cradling the crux of where your jaw met your neck. “I am realizing that now.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I did, greatly.”

You paused a moment, the small sparks of spite that once had you melted away partially, leaving you feeling a bit silly. “I…”

“Don’t apologize. This is someone else’s fault, I’ll deal with them later.” He said, moving around you to your front, and kneeling down before you.

The hand cradling your pulse slipped to the back of your neck, lightly pulling you into him. You kissed him through the gaping maw of his mask. It was rough, as though it was the single thing he’d been wanting for weeks. His hand tightened, pulling your hair by the roots to expose your neck. You gasped when you felt his lips on your jaw, traveling down to your throat.

It was a while before he pulled back, satisfied at the aggravated red skin his attention left. Most likely so that the staff could see it and know.

You stared at him, chest rising and falling quickly, but not scared. He seemed happy, or perhaps, at peace, as he stared back.

A polite, quiet knock on the door finally brought his gaze away from you. He spoke, loud and clear, “Yes?”

“Dinner is set for you the Lord and his Lady.”

He rose, standing to his full height before extending a hand to you. “You’ll be joining me I hope?”

“… yes, my lord.” You took it.

~~~~~

The og is pretty far back and i am grappling with the fact i probably should make a masterlist (i dont wannaaa) but i hope ya'll enjoy this <3

#yandere capitano #capitano x reader #capitano x fem!reader #soft yandere #healer!reader #genshin fanfic

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00valentina-writes00 · 8 days ago

Note

hiii, can you do a headcanon of Ambessa with a girlfriend who is super spoiled and Ambessa does everything for her cause she’s in love. thanks

✞⛧ Ofcccc here’s Ambessa with her super spoiled girlfriend ✞⛧

Ambessa is completely and utterly smitten. She sees her girlfriend as a queen, and she’ll stop at nothing to make sure she’s treated as one.

She loves spoiling her girlfriend with extravagant gifts: jewelry, designer clothes, rare perfumes from foreign lands—you name it, Ambessa has it wrapped and delivered to her door.

Ambessa’s favorite pastime is watching her girlfriend’s eyes light up when she surprises her. “You deserve the world, and I’ll make sure you have it,” she says without hesitation.

Breakfast in bed? Always. Ambessa ensures her girlfriend starts every morning with freshly brewed coffee or tea, perfectly made pastries, and her favorite fruit.

If her girlfriend even hints at wanting something, Ambessa makes it happen—whether it’s a vacation, a limited-edition item, or a small luxury like a specific shade of lipstick.

Massages on demand. After a long day, Ambessa insists her girlfriend relax while she knead the tension out of her shoulders with her strong hands.

Ambessa personally oversees her girlfriend’s security. She won’t tolerate any risks to her safety, assigning her most loyal guards to her at all times.

She never lets her girlfriend lift a finger—ever. Whether it’s opening doors, carrying bags, or even pouring a drink, Ambessa insists, “That’s my job.”

When Ambessa is away on business, she writes long, heartfelt letters and sends lavish care packages so her girlfriend never feels lonely.

She’s fiercely protective. Anyone who dares insult or hurt her girlfriend learns quickly that Ambessa is not one to be trifled with.

Ambessa often calls her “my little empress” or “my treasure,” and her tone is always dripping with affection when she says it.

Private chef? Check. Ambessa hires the best culinary talent in the world to cater to her girlfriend’s every craving.

If her girlfriend ever gets upset, Ambessa immediately clears her schedule to comfort her. She hates seeing her unhappy and does everything in her power to make her smile.

Ambessa loves brushing or playing with her girlfriend’s hair. It’s one of her favorite ways to bond, especially during quiet moments together.

She’s attentive to her girlfriend’s needs and can read her moods easily. “What’s wrong, love? Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

Date nights are always luxurious. Ambessa takes her girlfriend to exclusive restaurants, the opera, or on yacht trips under the stars.

Ambessa’s girlfriend is always dressed to impress, courtesy of Ambessa’s insistence on buying her custom-tailored outfits.

When they’re relaxing at home, Ambessa enjoys curling up with her girlfriend in front of the fireplace, sharing a glass of wine and soft conversation.

She keeps her girlfriend warm and cozy. Ambessa has an oversized fur cloak she drapes over her girlfriend whenever she’s cold, pulling her into her lap for added warmth.

If her girlfriend enjoys hobbies like painting or writing, Ambessa makes sure she has a luxurious studio filled with all the best supplies.

Public affection? Always classy but unmistakable. A hand at the small of her girlfriend’s back, a kiss to the knuckles, and a piercing glare at anyone who looks too long.

Ambessa constantly praises her girlfriend’s beauty, intelligence, and kindness. “You’re perfect, darling. Absolutely perfect.”

On anniversaries, Ambessa goes all out—planning surprise getaways, designing custom jewelry, or even commissioning a portrait of the two of them.

Soft moments are her weakness. Seeing her girlfriend laugh, smile, or fall asleep in her arms melts the cold exterior Ambessa shows to the rest of the world.

Ambessa has no qualms about reminding her girlfriend how much she loves her. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Never forget that.”

She’s not shy about reminding people of her girlfriend’s status, either. “Do you know who she is? Treat her with the respect she deserves.”

Ambessa secretly adores when her girlfriend gets a little bratty or demanding. It only fuels her desire to spoil her more.

Her girlfriend’s happiness is Ambessa’s top priority. Whether it’s through small gestures or grand displays, she lives to see her smile.

Ambessa dreams of retiring one day to a private estate where she and her girlfriend can live in peace, surrounded by luxury.

In the end, Ambessa would do anything for her girlfriend. She’s her greatest weakness, her greatest love, and the one thing Ambessa is truly soft for.

#ambessa league of legends #lol ambessa #ambessa x you #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa headcanons #ambessa arcane #arcane imagine #arcane #arcane headcanon #arcane drabbles #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

Text

All Ye Faithful

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, lactation, PPD mentions, cheating, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: You are on the hunt for the perfect present but the price is steeper than you expect.

Character: Loki

Day Twenty-Six of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - there's only one of these left and i need it more than you.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“Is he okay?” You ask as your fingers squeeze around the grooves of the steering wheel.

“He’s fine,” Ellie almost laughs over the babbling, “aren’t you, Lil Griffy?”

She cooes as your heart patters wildly. You’re stress level is at your ears. Your head almost hurts from the tension wound through you; or maybe it’s that you keep squinting to see the road beneath the cones cast by the street lights.

You hate waiting until the last minute, but despite your best effort, it’s come down to the wire. This is your last chance to make Christmas perfect.

The morning was a whirlwind. Your son, Griffin, shrieking as you tried to feed him breakfast, the email buried beneath all the dozens of Black Friday and holiday promotions. The order you placed over a month ago was canceled the week after. You don’t know how you missed it but you did. Now you have to figure this out.

“I won’t be long. If he starts freaking out, you can give him some baby advil for his teeth. He’s been cutting some--”

“Hey, I got it, mama,” your sister insists. “Enjoy the time to yourself. Please. I'm sure tomorrow is going to be a lot.”

“Right,” you agree dully. “I’ll call you when I'm on the way back.”

You hang up with the flick of your thumb, the button depressing beneath and the music coming back to life from the stereo. Something about the beat addles you further.

This isn’t how you imagined your baby’s first Christmas. While you also envisioned a little extra help from your fiance, you didn’t intend to be driving around to meet strangers to purchase gifts like some underworld arms’ deal.

Ellie recommended the marketplace app. She got a bunch of stuff for her wedding there and she even bartered some designer pieces along the way. She’s always been better at everything. It’s probably why your son wasn’t freaking out for the first time in days.

Your GPS tells you to turn left and concludes the trip, noting that your destination is on your right. The storefront glows but the ‘Open’ sign is out. Much like the rest of the shops in the area. If you had any other choice, you would take it over this hand-off.

You pull into the lot and put your car in park. You scoop your phone out of the cup holder and open up the app. You send a message to the seller that you’ve arrived. You restlessly jiggle your foot over the pedal and stare at the snow-laden curbs and salt-streaked brick.

You flutter your fingers over the wheel and your chest furls into a cluster of nerves. What if it’s a scam? What if they don’t show up? Typical that the one big gift you had your heart set on is the one thing you can’t get a hold of.

A car pulls up next to yours and your phone buzzes. That must be them. You glance over at the dark silhouette behind the tinted window. Your family-friendly car is not cheap by any means but the luxury vehicle suggests an income you can only aspire to.

You get out and shove your hand into your pocket, checking for the envelope of cash. You hesitate as you once more glance over at the other car. It’s too expensive to be a criminal, right? Or maybe you just walked straight into a mugging.

Their door opens as you hover behind your trunk, uncertain of how far to go. A sleek, dark-haired man steps out. He’s tall and his black locks are tidy and combed back behind his nape. He wears a well-cut suit beneath a fur-trimmed collar. You didn’t bother to change out of your flour-dusted hoodie and jeans.

You bite your lower lip and swallow your fear.

“Uh, hi, you’re uh...” you blink and try to remember his name. He says your first.

“I’ve got the toy,” he declares plainly.

“Oh, great, er... can I see it?” You ask. Essie says always see it first before you hand over the payment. She even gave you a tip to barter down by offering a pick-up. It seemed safer than giving a stranger your address anyhow.

“If you insist,” he strides forward, his posture straight, somewhat condescending just in the slant of his chin. You back up as he passes and circles around to open his trunk. You inch towards him and peek inside. “For your inspection.”

He waves his hand indifferently and you examine the packaging for the sensory set. You’ve been watching videos and reading all these Montessori articles about it. You just want the best for Griffon.

You nod and face him. He slides his phone from his pocket and clucks. You take out the brown bank envelope. “I have the money. Thanks for meeting me--”

“Hm, I’ve got an offer for two hundred more,” he turns his screen to you. “And they can meet me here as well.”

“What?” You gasp. “But I'm here.” You wag the envelope at him. “I need this. Please.”

“Very well you might but--”

“I can get two hundred more,” you beg, heart rending at yet another expense. “There’s an ATM close by. I’ll go take it out.”

“I suppose, if you are quicker than the other buyer,” he drones.

You frown. He doesn’t care. This is all just extortion to him. He doesn’t look like the type to need a baby toy. Essie did say there are a lot of resellers on the app. Wow, that’s just despicable. Still, you came all this way, you’re not willing to just give up.

“Or...” he interrupts your inner turmoil. You flinch and look at him as his eyes flick up and down. “If you are especially desperate, I might accept a different currency.”

You arch your brows, “uh, yeah, I got cashapp or venmo--”

“I’m not referring to money,” he intones.

The cold air turns bitter with silence. You stand staring at him, confused, as he watches you in turn; unflinching. The dimple in his cheek confirms your suspicions. He can’t mean that. No, not that. Look at you, you’re an underslept, overworked mother in a nursing bra and stained jeans.

“Excuse me?” You utter.

“It seems a bargain we might both benefit from. For my trouble, I could use something more than numbers in my account, and you, an obviously neglected housewife, might pretend it is that tending you so desire.”

“Huh? That’s-- that’s... gross,” you wilt.

“And yet you’ve not slapped me or walked away, so I dare say you are considering it,” he smirks. “And certainly, you are here to ensure you precious child has their perfect holiday. I would surmise it is their first--”

“Please, don’t-- don’t talk about my son,” you plead and clutch the envelope, looking down at your shaking hands.

“I’d rather not. Bit of a mood killer, honestly,” he snickers. “So?”

You chew your lip, letting it flick out from under your teeth. Your eyes well and burn. You can’t believe you’re even thinking about it. You just want that one day. You just want one victory after messing up every other thing.

You nod and lift your chin, only halfway as you can barely look at that man; a stranger. You hold out the envelope. He takes it, his fingers brushing yours, and he tucks it into his pocket.

“You may wait for me,” he gestures to his car, “I’ll let the other seller know the item is no longer available.”

His glee is clear in his tone. You’re sick to your stomach. You drag your feet away from him and go around the other side of the car.

“In the back, darling, it’ll be easier.”

You stop and face the car. Does he want... everything? Or just a hand... or...

You open the door and sit on the edge of the seat. As you shut the door, you lean on it and hang your head. You’re more than terrified of what you’ve just agreed to. You’re terrified of yourself.

Are you so low as to go through with this? What if Brodie finds out? It’s cheating, technically. No, in all ways.

The other door opens and lets in a wintry gale that adds to the iciness in your veins. Your throat tightens around a wave of nausea. The man sighs as he closes the door and settles in with a wiggle of his shoulders. He might be awful but you’re worse for going along with it. For what? A toy.

No, this is for Christmas. It’s for your son. You just want him to be happy. You don’t need your husband telling you how you fucked up another thing.

“Take the sweater off. Whatever that is... it’s not very intriguing,” he points to the stain on your hoodie. It could be chocolate from baking or something inedible.

You wince and clasp the fabric in your fists. Slowly you strip away the hoodie. You have only your nursing bra beneath; grey and plain, the thin fabric wet as you leak through. You shudder and hunch your shoulders. Your swollen tits bulge over the flimsy cups as you try to hide the stretch marks on your stomach with you bundled hoodies.

“Mm, yes, delightful,” he purrs and surprises you as his fingers reach to the strap of your bra.

You squeak as he easily tugs free the cup and peels it away, exposing your raw nipple. You don’t have time to react as he leans in and bows to take the pert bud between his lips. You cry out in shock as he suckles and you watch his dark head helplessly.

His hand comes up to grope the other side of your chest. You moan in response to the heaviness in his grasp. You’re sickened as he is entirely unbothered at the trickle of milk that rolls from the corner of his mouth, yet a twinge deep down scalds you with shame. Your own fiance won’t touch you because of the way you leak; or maybe it’s rest of your; the loose skin and the stretch marks...

He groans as he rolls your nipple between his teeth and you cry out at the tenderness. He continues to fondle you as his saliva mingles with your milk. You are repulsed but cozened by his diligence.

Your eyes wander around the luxurious interior of the car, a wall of tears blurring your reality, before you find your way back to him. He doesn’t seem the type. Too wealthy and refined, yet here he is feeling you up in the back of his car. You repress another heave of disgust.

“Supple,” he pulls back and opens the other side of your bra, your tits hanging free. “Yes, yes, I know,” he continues the one-sided conversation as you sit mute and dump, tingling from his touch, “we both have places to be.”

He sits back and pushes open his jacket. He shrugs free of the wool and lets the coat open across the seat behind him. He swiftly unbuckles his belt and opens his fly. You watch without reaction. Your body won’t respond to your horror.

“Come,” he reaches into his briefs as he lifts himself slightly off the seat, pushing both pants and undergarments down as he pulls his dick free. He strokes himself as he reclines again. “You’ve had a child, you should know how these things work.”

You exhale shakily. You reach for him as he continues to pump himself and he swats you away meanly.

“I’ve not the time for all that, get in my lap.”

His blunt demand puts you further off-balance. You move without thinking. This needs to be over. You have a son to get home to.

And a fiance.

You turn and stand up, bent over in the tight space, and push down your jeans to your ankles. He might see your unshaven legs or the rest of you and change his mind still. You’d almost rather that humiliation than the guilt of what you’ve resigned yourself to.

He doesn’t stop you. He only hums as you move awkwardly to kneel on the seat and lift your knee over him to straddle his lap. You grasp his shoulder first then recoil as if burnt. You brace the seat instead as you set your legs, your ankles kept awkwardly together by the tangle of denim.

He frames your hips with his large hand and you wince again. It’s so strange to be touched in that way. Not to be tugged and teethed at, or have someone screaming or crying in your ear at the same time.

He pushes you down as he guides his tip along your lips. You quiver at the reminder of what you haven’t felt in so long. At those needs you pushed so far down you convinced yourself they just weren’t there anymore.

He eases into you as you let your hips drop. You gasp at the sensation. It’s snug and warm and... he said you were ruined. That one-time you tried and Brodie stopped you. Never mind, he said. And you saw the reddit post he left open the next day; ‘my wife ruined by childbirth. What can I do?’

Ugh, don’t think about that.

Another moan rolls from your throat as you hang your head back. You sink down onto the stranger’s lap and he fills you up easily. You claw the seats as his other hand squeezes your chest again. He pulls you closer as he guides your hips in a slow motion.

The crawl of his own low, sultry voice singes away all your doubts and damnation. You lose yourself in the carnal melding of your bodies. You are not a mother or a fiancee or anything but needy. Your grip slips from the leather and onto his shoulders.

He bends to once more nip and suck at your chest. He keeps you moving as he rocks from below. He doesn’t let up as he buries his face in your cleavage. His large hand splays across your back and he squeezes your hip tighter and tighter.

The fire roars inside of you, trapping you both as you chase that final spark. You buck against him desperately and his nose brushes up to your collar bone. He bites into your shoulder and drones as he hooks his hand down around your ass.

You quake in a noiseless orgasm, choked of your voice as your muscles contract in ecstasy and relief. You only realise then how much you needed this. How much you longed for that release. How long you just wanted to be needed for more than a feeding or rocking or changing.

He bursts inside of you in a warm deluge. You gasp as sense slaps you across the face. What are you doing? He’s not protected. You aren’t either. Why didn’t you even think of that?

He curls his arms around you and presses his hand against your shoulder as he ruts up into you until the last drop. You push on his arms but he doesn’t relent. Not until he’s weak and trembling.

He lets you go, arms falling slack to his sides, and he sighs. He snickers as his lips curl and you sit back to look him in the face. His green eyes sparkle in triumph.

“What did you do?” You drag yourself off of him and angle awkwardly as you cover your cunt with your hand.

He tuts, “don’t make a mess.”

“Me--” You retort. “I...” You lean your knees on the seat as you try to scrap his cum off of you, wiping it on your hoodie. “You--”

“And it isn’t what I’ve done, you should worry for, darling,” he taunts. “Ask yourself that very question.”

You look at him and hiss. You don’t have any defense. Because he’s right. Because you did this. For a goddamn toy.

His eyes drift down to your chest and he winks. “They payment was adequate. You make have your prize.”

#loki laufeyson #loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #december daze #navy and roo's sleepover #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au

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shytastemakerthing · 6 months ago

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Hello hello! I just found your blog and I love it <3 I was wondering if I could maybe request the Savannaclaw boys (seperately) with a female raccoon Beastman? Beastwoman??? Anyways- i just think it'll be really cute with Ruggie stealing with a klepto or her making cute chittering noises while cuddle Leona lol thank youuu!

A/N: Hello and thank you for your request! The thought of Ruggie with a raccoon beastwoman honestly makes me laugh, the amount of mischief that these two will get into with one another! I hope that you like this!

Request: Savannaclaw with raccoon beast woman S/O

Tw: None

Honestly, the two of you met one another after you tried swiping something from his pockets while he was taking a nap

You just couldn't help it, it was in your nature as a raccoon to swipe whatever it was that you needed no matter where it was at or if it had belonged to someone

The moment your fingers grazed the edge of the wallet poking out of his pocket, his hand had your wrist in a vice grip and you were met with the most beautiful pair of green eyes you had ever seen

Followed by his smug grin

.....Yeah, you said that out loud

And the rest was history from there

From the get-go, as soon as you two were together, he spoiled you rotten, he has the money to spare

Instead of swiping something, just grab his card and help yourself to what you want

Just grab his something to eat, yeah?

Being his partner also means that you are getting used as a pillow more often than not

Honestly, your tail is so soft that it is hard to resist

Coming to his games was a must and he could always see you in the stands...... and also rummaging through the bags of the other players to see what you could find

It's where you currently found yourself

Instead of the botanical gardens, you were both in his room. It was the weekend, no classes (as if he would go anyways), and you were curled up with each other in bed

You were still fast asleep and Leona was barely awake, only able to give a tired smile as he listened to your little sounds in your sleep, especially when he would start brushing his fingers through the fur of your tail and a long your ears

It didn't matter now that he wasn't going to be a king, he had you, and that was all he needed

Mischief duo

Now, Ruggie had only seen a raccoon beasttype a handful of times, as they were more known to live in wooded areas, so they were few and far between in the Savanna

The first sign he saw of you was that familiar fluffy and ringed fur tail of yours ducking behind a wall

Now his curiosity was piqued

Silent as he could, Ruggie would move to where you were, seeing you huddled down with a box that clearly was not yours, if the name on the side of the lunchbox was anything to go by

You looked at him..... and he looked at you

He knew what it was like to grow up with essentially nothing, having to do whatever it took if it meant survival, food was a luxury that not many could afford

Which is why what you did next shocked him....

You held out one of the treats inside for him, making a shushing motion with your other hand

Well, in that case.....

It looks like you have a new companion after that. Seeing you out several more times, it really did not take that long before the two of you were a pair

A pair of menaces, as many would like to say

One of you would be a distraction, the other would do the swiping, you guys decided before hand as to who would do that part

And then split the riches between the both of you

Anything non-perishable would also be saved to be taken back to the village he grew up in

Every time he sees you swiping something while he is at practice, he has to keep himself from chuckling as he doesn't want to give you away

See if you can find him some donuts, yeah?

When you go with him to visit his home this summer, the both of you will have plenty of food and goodies to bring to the other villagers

Really was not a fan of your tendency to take things that did not belong to you

It was actually Ruggie to bring up several things about your nature

As a raccoon beast type, you were highly prone to taking anything that you need and wanted, not to mention, raccoons weren't exactly the high members of society, as he liked to say, often many living in poverty and doing what they could to live. Granted, so few were seen in the Savanna but even in other areas, it was a rather well known thing

So, seeing that most of what you were taking was food, clothing, hygiene materials, and everything in-between, and seeing that you were rather well fed right now and clothing seemed to be in decent shape (it was obvious that they were mended), there were chances that you were sending these things back home

And you confirmed that when he found you again with a bag full of old clothes from the lost and found

As it turns out, you have several little siblings and your parents that you were trying to take care of while you were here

You were lucky to get into NRC, with it recently being co-ed, and your magical aptitude was rather impressive as well as your academics, it gave you an opportunity that not many from your hometown had

It was then he saw you for who you were, a young woman just trying to take care of her family by any means necessary

It took a couple of months, but the two of you officially were together

While he wouldn't help with your swiping tendencies, helping to keep them down a bit, he would often ask around and see if anyone had anything they didn't need, coming to you quite a bit with piles of clothing and other things that people didn't want

He went home with you during winter break and he saw just how badly all of this was needed

Everything seemed to be in quite the disrepair in the village, some homes boarded up, small fires here and there to keep people warm

Seeing the smiles on everyone's face as soon as they saw you with the countless materials you managed to get was enough to warm his heart and break it at the same time

He helped you pass everything out before heading to your own home where all of your little siblings were watching you from the windows

It was pretty crowded inside, given it was a rather small space and a larger family

Your parents curled up by the fire, siblings piling onto the rug around them, and then the two of you closer to the window

He swore at that very moment that he would do what he could for you and your family, and the others that were here

After all, he is rather good friends with a certain famous celebrity, no doubt he would be willing to help out his friend

Thank you so much for your request! Have a wonderful day/night!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #romantic #twst imagines #Savannaclaw x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #jack howl x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #twst leona kingscholar #twst ruggie bucchi #twst Jack howl #shy writes #shy answers

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shakingparadigm · 9 months ago

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Speaking of Guardians, I'm just going to make a list on the information I have on the ones associated with the main cast so far.

Note: the information here is mostly from official material (patreon interviews, merch, the videos themselves etc) but some portions of it are my own assumptions based on this information as well.

Mizi -> Guardian Shine

Guardian Shine is a prominently pink and white alien that wears a peaceful expression and bears resemblance to certain aquatic creatures, most predominantly associated with the jellyfish. Their body largely consists of floaty pink frills.

Guardian Shine is the only alien of the main cast that is explicitly stated to have a close and loving relationship with their human pet, treating Mizi like a "daughter" and ensuring that she is happy and well-provided for.

Guardian Shine created Mizi's performance dress for ROUND 1.

It seemed that whenever Mizi accomplished something good in the Anakt Garden, she would become ecstatic and excited to tell Guardian Shine about her victories.

Sua -> Guardian ???

Not much is known or seen about Sua's Guardian (the information isn't public, at least), but from the glimpses we see in MIZISUA, her Guardian is a rather luxurious and feminine alien with clawed, ring-laden hands and a lower half akin to a flower-patterned dress. It seems as though they are wearing a pale-colored fur coat.

In the disc:mizisua artbook, its stated that Sua was raised by influencers, which seems to be why her Guardian is dressed so lavishly.

Sua's Guardian did not particularly care for her, only raising her as a means to "show off".

While Guardian Shine warmly entertains Mizi before her departure, Sua's Guardian has their back turned and is instead busied with an interview (as seen by the alien holding the microphone next to them).

Because Sua's Guardian didn't care for her and only raised her for public image, they dressed Sua in doll-like clothes without care as to how it would fit her. The book states that despite it's lovely look, Sua's dress was stuffy and ill-fitting.

Till -> Guardian Urak

Guardian Urak (in earlier iterations) is a humanoid alien with a predominantly white color scheme, most recognizable by a covered upper face and floating chair. (I highly suspect the alien from ROUND 6's first verse to be the new Guardian Urak design, but I could be wrong.)

Similar to Sua's, Guardian Urak seems rather neglectful and maybe even physically abusive to Till, as seen by the multiple bruises left on him even before he's thrown at the wall. If the head alien in ROUND 6 is confirmed to be Urak, this is further proven by the first few scenes.

In an interview for a magazine portion of ROUND 2, Guardian Urak is shown to be easily dismissive of Till's misbehavior as long as it garners them a win.

Guardian Urak believes that a human's bizarre behavior is synonymous with their talent. "The more talented humans, the more likely they are to be freaks." Urak apologizes for Freddie's murder on Till's behalf, but doesn't seem to care about it beyond the surface level.

Urak barely seems to invest much into Till, at least not as much as the other Guardians do for their own pets. Till's stage in ROUND 2 is the most plain, unlike the other rounds where the stages are unique and decorated with different designs and lights. Till's outfits are also the most plain among the cast.

Ivan -> Guardian ???

Ivan's Guardian is a large, slightly Cthulhu-like alien dressed in dapper clothing, which many fans find akin to that of a mafia boss. They are dressed in colors of mainly red and black, a color scheme that their followers seem to align with as well.

Ivan's Guardian is well-known in alien society. Due to this, Ivan makes sure to behave carefully and properly while out in public as not to sully their name.

It also seems as though they are incredibly wealthy, seemingly involved in a business of some sort.

Ivan describes the relationship with his Guardian to be more like a business partnership rather than something parental.

Ivan's Guardian seems to have invested a lot into Ivan's success. Adopting him from the slums, cleaning him and remaking his image from a lowly slum child to one of the most famous, talented, and influential humans of the current season. Ivan states in an interview that he will always be grateful to them for taking him in.

Due to the investment, Ivan's performances are always of high quality, his costumes intricately made and his stages flamboyantly themed.

Since their relationship stands on business, it's most likely that Ivan was able to connect and partner with several brands due to his Guardian.

Ivan's relationship with his Guardian seems mutual, Ivan himself states it's "not bad". His Guardian provides him with what he needs to succeed and in return Ivan is obedient and always excels at what he's assigned to do. It seems as though Ivan's Guardian is often pleased with him, patting his head when he passes preliminaries and gathering other aliens to celebrate. One of the aliens even presents a bouquet of flowers, clapping their hands together.

Luka -> Guardian Heperu

Guardian Heperu is an alien with a round, squat head, bulging eyes and a pronounced neck. They seem to don a robe of some sort, paired together with a small hat.

Guardian Heperu seems to be yet another influential figure in alien society, possessing the resources necessary to invest in Luka's intensive training.

They also ensure that Luka's performances are always phenomenal, going so far as to rent out a special site for ROUND 5 (iirc, they performed ROUND 5 on the corpse of a large and powerful alien, hence the spine and bones you can see in the back of certain shots).

Guardian Heperu is an extremely envious figure who wished for a pet to trump all others, to stand above all the competitors unmatched.

Luka's unnatural conception and strict training is a result of Heperu's insecurity, the need to remain at the top constantly. Perhaps this desire ended up seeping into Luka as well.

Luka never fought back against the aliens, most likely because Heperu conditioned him to be the epitome of performative perfection since birth. How Luka interacted with his fellow humans was irrelevant, what mattered was how he interacted with the aliens who's opinions were of far greater worth. This may be why Luka seemed to be an outcast in the Anakt Garden yet a beloved prince in the eyes of the alien audience.

Luka directly refers to Heperu as "Father".

Hyuna -> Guardian ???

So far, Hyuna is the only character without even a sliver of alien connection. It makes sense, of course. She cut herself off from everything so long ago.

However, a sketch of Hyuna's alien was drafted all the way back during the production of Sweet Dream.

I'm not gonna spoil anything, but let me just say that's one hell of an alien.

Hopefully we get to see them soon!

#alnst #alien stage #alien stage guardians #idk how to tag this help

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mothpawbs · 1 year ago

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three queens who blister, blaze, and burn

i needed designs of the sisters for a thing i'm going to draw, here they are! design notes under the cut :)

NOTES: all three have two hair swoops in the front, dark markings around their eyes, and some kind of dark striping on their neck scales. the number of lower lashes they have denotes their birth order: burn has 0, blister has 1, blaze has 2. BURN: head shape and colors based on a lioness. has very heavy horns, a short-shorn crest like a high-and-tight cut, and rough, poorly healed scars. same colors as Oasis, with Char's build. wears a chestplate, as well as heavy, crushing plates on her stinger, and a lion's pelt around her shoulders as a cape. no jewelry. heavily inspired by the AnimatedWings design. BLISTER: narrow and snakelike, similar build to Oasis with Char's colors (opposite of Burn). has slim, sharp horns, an ashen palette, a tall crest, and black markings down her neck. is practically twins with Smolder. wears a black metal snake twisted along one ear, and a cape patterned with stars (inspired by @dragonskulls check out their blister design). also wears a replica Eye of Onyx, but made with black metal instead of gold and smaller. string of black pearls were a gift from Coral. BLAZE: pretty, round, and soft. she has a rosy tint, a long, luxurious crest, and all horns and claws are blunt and harmless. LOTS of jewelry. she likes gold, delicate chains and charms, and aquamarine. also wears a heavy, lined cloak with an enormous fur collar gifted to her by Glacier.

#digital art #mag art #wof #wings of fire #sandwing #royalty #burn #princess burn #blister #princess blister #blaze #princess blaze #headshot #bust #character design

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the-unidentified-author · 2 days ago

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The Lord, The Lady and The Long Winter | Cregan Stark | House of the Dragon

Chapter 1: House Baratheon

cregan stark x reader

🚨SLOW BURN🚨

I need to come back and add tags and stuff.

Summary: You’re betrothed to Cregan Stark. The pair of you navigate this relationship of convenience and perhaps even find love.

"What do you think the Warden of the North is like?" your younger sister inquired; her eyes gleaming as she admired the fine gowns your father had procured. She was only seven years old and completely obsessed with dresses and pretty things. These gowns were not a token of your fathers' kindness; rather, your mother had insisted on them, knowing your southern dresses wouldn't keep you warm in the northern chill. You'd barely had a chance to glance at the garments before your two little sisters burst into the room. The youngest, Alanna, was already sifting through them, fascinated by the thick, elegant fabrics crafted to withstand the harsh climate you’d soon call home. She pulled a pair of fine but warm leather gloves from the ornate wooden trunk and pulled them on. They were made for your hands so dwarfed her own, but she didn’t seem to notice, playing with the expensive fur at the cuff.

"I heard that the Northmen are all savages." Ellyn remarked, her arms folded as she sat on your bed, her gaze distant, a scowl adorned her face.

She was the middle sister, your mother only having three girls. Your five older brothers had all been born before yourself. Your mother always joked that the gods gave the three of you to her after she had carried out her duty to the Baratheon house. And as such, your upbringing had been relatively indulgent, with your mother often doting on you and your sisters more than perhaps she ought to have. She had a soft spot for her daughters, allowing little luxuries and moments of leniency that your brothers might not have experienced. This favouritism wrapped your childhood in a blanket of warmth and comfort, granting you a sense of security that only a loving mother could provide. Such spoiling may have shielded you somewhat from the harsher realities of life, but it also meant that facing the impending changes and responsibilities of your new life in the North felt even more daunting.

You knew that Ellyn's comment had not come from a place of spite but rather sadness. The weight of change lay heavily upon Ellyn when the news of your northern betrothal reached her, she was not one to embrace change but rather shy away from it. Ellyn was unsettled by the tides of change and the unsettling murmur of an uncertain future. The betrothal, while a grand step for you, felt like a shattering of the familiar bonds she cherished so deeply. It wasn't just the inevitable separation that gripped her heart, but the unnerving thought of standing on shifting sands, where duty once stood firm. She dreaded the solitude that might creep into the corners of her life, casting long shadows on the once warm and light-filled halls of her existence. It wasn’t just your future that tugged at Ellyn’s heartstrings, but the looming prospect of her journey into the unknown, leaving familiar comforts behind. Inwardly, you promised resilience for your younger sisters, showing them that the shadows of uncertainty held no real threat. Yet, with your wedding day fast approaching, each tick of the clock seemed to unnerve your resolve, making it a true test of strength to maintain composure in the face of impending change.

"Northmen are just different from what we are used to, we have all heard the stories that surround Lord Cregan Stark. He is a fierce warrior and a noble leader. You shouldn't speak so cruelly about him, or you might not be allowed to visit." you stepped forwards, looking at Alanna, who had stopped rifling through your clothes at the mention of a visit.

"May we come and visit you?" inquired Alanna, her large, bright eyes sparkling with excitement at the thought.

"If she's not too busy raising a Northerners babies," Ellyn countered, her tone slightly harsh yet carrying an undercurrent of teasing sarcasm. Alanna's face, previously alight with excitement, now sagged with disappointment.

"If you continue being so cruel, you won't be welcome at all." you muttered, your tone harsher than you had intended. Her harsh words mixed with the stress you were feeling, bubbling up into anger that shouldn't have been directed at her. The words had slipped past your lips, unintentionally carrying more bite than you had wished for. Guilt swam in your gut as you watched Ellyn's crinkle into a frown, the impact of your harshness becoming all too clear.

Ellyn's frown deepened as she stood up from the bed, tears brimming in her eyes. "I hate you," she spat, storming towards the door. "I can’t wait to never see you again.

Your mother appeared at the door as Ellyn left, brushing, past her.

Your mother looked at you with a raised eyebrow, and you let out a weary sigh and moved to follow your younger sister. But instead of letting you pass, your mother stepped forwards placing her hands on your shoulders. You looked at her, and the look she returned threatened to collapse the walls you had been so carefully building after your betrothal.

"Let her go, you know what she is like. She will come around." your mother said, gently pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back.

Wrapping your arms around her, you let her hold you for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of her lavender perfume. A lump formed in the back of your throat, and you fought to swallow it, lest you become a blubbing mess in her arms. She pulled away gently and cupped your face with her hand, offering reassurance in the warmth of her touch.

"You will be okay," she nodded, her voice soft and comforting. Then, turning her attention to Alanna, who was still fussing with the clothing sprawled out on the bed, she added, "Alanna, can you return to your room, please? It's getting late."

Alanna sighed, wanting more than anything to watch you try on the beautiful garments, but she nodded. She moved around the bed and stepped into your mother's waiting arms, hugging her tightly. Your mother kissed her on the head and then ushered her out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. You had always admired your mother; she never once wavered from her duty to your father. Their match, though one of convenience to unite two noble families in the south, had blossomed into a deep and sincere love.

"What if this marriage is different from what you and Father have?" you whispered, unable to hold back the wave of emotions that had been brewing since the announcement. "What if he is as cruel and cold as the Northmen are rumoured to be?"

The weight of uncertainty pressed down on you, making your heart race. It was a daunting realisation that life outside the warm embrace of your home was fraught with danger and unpredictability. All the fears that fluttered in your mind formed a dark storm, and you found yourself wishing for the comfort of familiar surroundings, for the laughter shared with your sisters, and the safety that came with loving arms. The thought of marrying a stranger, of stepping into the unknown, made everything feel so much more overwhelming. You yearned for reassurance, a sign that everything would turn out well, but all you had was the chilling whisper of doubt echoing in your thoughts, leaving you questioning what lay ahead.

"Do you think your father would wed you to a man people thought of as cruel?" your mother asked gently, her voice laced with the soothing wisdom that had guided you through so many dilemmas in the past. Her eyes, often seen brimming with pragmatic resolve, now softened as they searched your face for the fears you tried to mask.

"I think that the love he has for me doesn't always eclipse the honour and duty he must uphold to the kingdom," you replied softly, your words carrying the weight of understanding that had settled upon you. Your gaze rested on the floor, tracing invisible patterns as you spoke, a forlorn truth wrapped around each syllable. As the ambient light cast flickering shadows around the room, you lifted your eyes to meet your mother's, seeking solace in her steadfast presence. Her patient nod encouraged you to continue. "I understand yours and fathers' situation is unique. That people of our station do not often find love and must settle only for companionship, but is it so wrong for me to hope for love?"

"Oh, my love," she murmured, stepping forward with a tenderness that enveloped you, and you dropped your head to her shoulder, allowing yourself to be held by her warmth. Her embrace was a sanctuary, a familiar place that offered solace against the waves of uncertainty crashing within. "It is not a silly thing to wish for at all," she reassured, her voice a gentle balm over your growing concerns. She rubbed soothing circles on your back.

*****

The cold was biting, surprising for early autumn in this part of the country. The air held a sharpness, to it, your breath leaving your lips in a cloud. You felt its sting on your cheeks, turning them a rosy hue as you breathed in the crisp, frosty air. The ground beneath your feet was firm and dusted with a light frost, the leaves crunching softly as you moved. It was as if the North were reaching out, giving you just a taste of the winter you would soon experience, a forewarning of the snowy embrace that awaited you. Even the distant howl of the wind seemed to carry a whisper of winters yet to come, hinting at the icy realm that would become your home.

You stood in front of the carriage that was to take you to the North, to your future husband and home. Your mother had spent the last night in your room, stroking your hair the same way she had when you were a child, suffering nightmares. In that quiet moment, you realised how difficult this must be for her, her first daughter being sent so far away. Not once did she mention her heartache; she simply held you through the night. When morning came, she was back to her usual self, folding the clothes that had been bought for you and packing them back into the chest with a practiced efficiency that spoke more of love than words ever could.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," whispered Ellyn as she stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around you. Her grip was both firm and gentle, as if trying to say that she never really wanted to let go.

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean it," you whispered softly, letting the hug linger as long as she needed it to, feeling her breath steady against you.

She stepped away, and you could see the tears threatening to fall from her eyes, but she was holding them back as well as she could.

"Will you build a snowman?" Alanna asked, stepping forward to hug you tightly. "I heard it's something you can do with snow, and it's supposed to be fun!"

You wrapped your arms around her, lifting her from the floor. She didn’t quite grasp how far you were about to go or how long it would be until you saw her again. It was something your mother would have to handle when reality set in, knowing you wouldn’t be returning to the family home in the same way you had left it. You placed her gently on the ground, and she untangled herself from you, stepping back in line with Ellyn. Your brothers had already bid you goodbye in the days earlier. The nature of their duties meaning that it would almost be impossible for all of them to wave you off. You felt a slight relief that they weren't all there, knowing that watching your whole family fade into the distance as the carriage carried you away from your childhood home might have been too overwhelming to bear.

Your mother stepped forward and gently cupped your face, her touch warm and tender against the coolness of the morning. She nodded at you, a silent acknowledgment of the strength she wished to convey, before pulling you into a close embrace. As she pulled away, you caught a glimpse of the emotion flickering in her eyes, revealing the struggle beneath her composed exterior. Turning to your father, you saw the hint of a smile playing on his lips, though his eyes betrayed the softer emotions he rarely displayed. He extended his hand, steady and reassuring, guiding you as you took the step-up into the carriage that would carry you toward your fate.

Your father stepped up behind you just as you weer about to sit down, the carriage groaning under the shift in weight. Settling himself across from you with a calm certainty, he leaned back, observing the interior with a faint, practiced disinterest. With a deliberate motion, he closed the door behind him, his hand rapping firmly on the side to signal your departure.

The wheels began their slow, laborious turn, the carriage lurching into motion with a rhythm that echoed the unsettled beat of your heart. The time that you had been dreading all summer was finally upon you. Every fibre of your being pleaded for you to wrench open the door and run back to your family. But you sat there, your hands folded in your lap, ignoring every instinct to flee. Each rotation of the wheels pulled you further from everything you had known, as the grim realisation settled deep within your chest—this journey marked the end of your old life and the beginning of your new one.

As the carriage picked up speed, you moved to the window, drawing back the heavy drapery for one last glimpse of your family. There they stood, clustered together in the chilly morning light. Your mother with a solemn expression, your sisters wrapped in cloaks, waving with both excitement and trepidation. You watched as your mother stepped slightly apart from your sisters, clasping her hands as if in prayer, while your father's Stoic demeanour couldn't hide the softening of his eyes.

Each familiar face, lined with love and farewells, imprinted itself onto your memory—a cherished keepsake tucked away in the corners of your heart. You didn’t know when you would next see them all together. Your lives now would be fast-paced, your sisters when they reach your age also fated to be wed off to a distant Lord. The next time all three of you would be together would likely be in the event of a death in the family, not something that you were going to look forwards to.

With a resigned sigh, you let the curtain fall back into place, drawing your hands into your lap as the chill of anticipation prickled along your skin. If it were cold, here, what would it be like up in the North? Across from you, your father watched with a quiet understanding. He didn’t speak, perhaps not knowing what to say, so the space between the two of you was filled only with the soothing rumble of the carriage wheels.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark #hotd #hotd fanfic #Lord stark #hotd cregan #fanfic #slow burn #i wrote this for me #winterfell #cregan fanfiction #cregan smut

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