#fiercely in love till the very end

[treasure-goblin]

Ya know, my Abuelo used to stick gum in the hair of women who were rude or mean to my Abuela, and he never got caught because the only one who would see was his brother, who never snitched.

[chubby-bun-bun]

heavy is the crown

As princess, you are bound by duty to marry the notorious and elusive Onichynus general, in exchange for his protection of your kingdom from an impending war. On the night of your wedding, tradition demands that you undergo the consummation rites, sealing the fate of your marriage—and your future.

tags: sylus x reader, NSFW, MDNI, royalty!au, general-of-powerful-nation!sylus x princess-of-kingdom-in-trouble!reader, first time sex (mc is a virgin), unprotected sex, afab!reader, fem!reader, slight voyeurism & somno & cockwarming at the end, lowkey breeding kink, gender-based stereotypes against women due to the time period, writing this has been a fever dream, word count: 2.7k~ worldbuilding and 5.5k~ smut lmfao

read on ao3

You dared to dream once upon a time.

You dreamt of crossing oceans beyond your shores, sailing aboard majestic galleons you’d only seen in textbooks. In the quiet solitude of your bedchambers, you imagined laughing with the townsfolk of distant cities, dancing in cobblestone streets to the melodies of traveling minstrels, and finding love in a modest man who'd want nothing more than to offer you freshly picked blooms every morning.

In the sanctuary of sleep, your dreams would lull you with visions of a simple life. A stone-walled kitchen warmed by the glow of a crackling hearth, a garden vibrant with blossoms and fresh produce, and a cozy reading nook nestled in an arched window. A loyal companion would sometimes join you—a slothful cat, a melodious songbird, a high-spirited pup, or a darling mare to carry you through grassy plains and wildflower fields.

"Do you take this man to be your wedded husband, to share in life's trials and joys, to love and honor, till death do you part?"

But such dreams have no place in the heart of a woman whose shoulders bear her kingdom's fate.

And so, as you take in the muted glow of the setting sun through delicate ivory lace, you finally put those girlhood fantasies to rest.

“I do.”

—

Being the youngest and only princess came with its fair share of trials and triumphs.

Unlike the elder princes, whose lives revolved around grueling expectations and fierce competition for the throne, your position spared you such burdens. Born to a queen who had long believed her childbearing years were behind her, you were nothing short of a miracle, arriving over a decade after your last sibling. This had earned you the undivided affection of the entire castle, leaving you thoroughly indulged and doted upon.

However, growing up without siblings near your age, you often grappled with bouts of loneliness. While you had fostered polite acquaintances among the daughters of many nobles, you found their company wearisome. The endless succession of balls and garden parties always seemed to revolve around the same gossip: politics, fashion, whispers about some baron’s sixteen-year-old daughter betrothed to a forty-year-old viscount, and, of course, the inevitable question: had anyone received a marriage proposal yet?

You naturally had many—to your dismay.

The idea of marriage filled you with profound dread. As a girl tagging along in your mother’s tea parties, you had often overheard the confessions and lamentations of the noblewomen. Stories of infidelity, neglect, and abuse spilled from their lips—duchesses, marchionesses, and countesses; women who stood at the very summit of high society. To you, marriage seemed less a sacred bond and more a cruel sentence—one far grimmer than the gallows.

At least the gallows granted the mercy of a quick death.

But as a princess, you were bound to uphold the ideal image of a young lady. One who radiated beauty, yet with grace and poise. Intelligent, but subservient to your intended husband’s authority. And, most important of all, fertile—to bear him strong sons who would carry on his legacy.

It sickened you. You would rather succumb to the plague than endure such a miserable life. But given your title, you could only try to delay the inevitable.

And so, life continued as it was—a never-ending cycle of social gatherings, fending off suitors, reading through your library, mastering languages, and nurturing a growing collection of hobbies. It was a life of privilege and routine—one that, despite its predictability, offered you a quiet sense of fulfillment.

Alas, nothing holds constant in the world, and change arrived in the form of a looming war from enemies across the sea.

Though small in size, your kingdom of Noir was a veritable treasure trove. With its abundant mountains and rivers, the island was never in short supply of precious metals, gems, and rare minerals. It was renowned for producing the finest artisans, who crafted the most exquisite jewelry, armor, and weapons. While modest in territory, it more than compensated with a thriving and prosperous economy.

The ultimate conquest for any conqueror.

Through the town streets worn smooth by centuries of footfalls, the bustling plazas lined with charming merchant stalls, the outskirt villages tucked among lush woodlands, and even the weathered stone walls of the towering castle, whispers had always flowed like an unrelenting tide—the most persistent being rumors of the neighboring kingdoms readying to seize Noir at any moment. But your father never addressed such hearsays, and life within the island always seemed as jovial and peaceful as it always did.

Until one night, as you sat engrossed in some book about Noir folklore, a series of sharp knocks on your chamber doors shattered the stillness, echoing sharply through the room.

It was your father, the king. Dropped to his knees, grasping your untainted hands in his rough, weathered ones, head bowed down at your mercy.

“Forgive me, my daughter,” he said in grief. “For the sake of the people—please, forgive me.”

For months, naval scouts had reported sightings of warships at the docks of two neighboring kingdoms, suspected of plotting to raid Noir and usurp the throne. Only a few weeks ago, those suspicions were confirmed when spies returned with dire news. The enemy militaries, vast and far stronger than your own, were preparing for a siege. Noir's true power had always been in the arts and commerce, not in its military might. Should your shores be attacked by an enemy nation—let alone two—the island would fall.

So on the very day the confirmation arrived, your father and the high court conspired to seek assistance from a nation on the mainland: Onichynus.

Conversations about the state were always hushed, spoken in whispers and laden with caution. It was rumored to be an immensely powerful dominion, even surpassing that of the hostile forces looming beyond your shores. Drunk sailors boasted of its staggering wealth, built on the spoils of their wars and ceaseless conquest. With an unmatched army of hardened warriors and mercenaries, it stood as a force to be reckoned with, its presence both feared and revered across the seas.

At its pinnacle stood their elusive general, a shadow whose name and true face remained unknown. Tales from sailors, traveling merchants, and tavern songs painted him as a ruthless figure, demon-like, who laid waste to rotten cities and beheaded corrupt kings. Some claimed he was a hero, purging the realm of wicked men in power, while others saw him as the embodiment of evil, leaving destruction and death in his wake.

Negotiations with Onichynus were a success. In return for their protection during the impending siege, Noir pledged to deliver three ships laden with its most prized metals, minerals, and gems—every year for the next century.

But to ensure Noir upheld its end of the bargain, their beloved princess would be bound in marriage to the general.

You could only keep your gaze steady, chin held high, as the king knelt before you, weeping, begging for your forgiveness.

You had your time to relish the pleasures of living as a princess. Now, it was time to fulfill your duties as one.

—

The night before the long-anticipated siege had arrived. After weeks of frantic planning and tense negotiations between Noir’s high court and the Onichynus war council, warriors and mercenaries had taken their positions across the island. Some blended seamlessly with the civilians, while the majority remained hidden in plain sight, their numbers concentrated along the docks.

In the king’s throne room, select members from both factions gathered for final preparations. Clad in his battle regalia, your father seemed a shadow of his former self—skin ashened, eyes hollow with exhaustion—yet his voice remained firm as he issued his commands to all present.

The Noir court members could hardly conceal their unease under the watchful eyes of the Onichynus war council. Towering and broad-shouldered, they seemed almost otherworldly. Their dark, burnished steel armor bore engravings of monstrous creatures, and many donned cloaks of crimson or black, their edges deliberately singed to resemble fire's touch. Helmets, adorned with jagged horns, cast grotesque shadows, while those who forwent them revealed faces with jagged streaks of war paint, as if to mimic claw marks.

Then, the heavy doors groaned open, spilling thick tendrils of black-red mist into the chamber. A hush fell as all eyes turned toward the towering figure that emerged from the haze.

The general.

For all the whispered tales of his demonic appearance—horns as tall as claymores, wings that spanned the heavens, and a tail that stretched like a river—you were stunned to find a face not of a monster, but of an angel.

Against the backdrop of his dark cloak, his striking silver hair stood out in sharp contrast. His features were sculpted with precision—high, defined cheekbones, a strong jawline, a straight nose, all framed by an expression that revealed little, save for full lips drawn into a tight line. The people of Noir gawked openly, stunned to finally see the man from the tales in the flesh. His gait was languid yet exuded confidence as he strode toward the throne where you sat beside your father.

His gaze found yours, and you stilled.

The deep scarlet of his eyes was piercing. You almost felt naked under it. Instantly, you straightened in your seat, fingers twitching to smooth the fabric of your dress.

“Expect the warships to be visible in six hours,” he said, his voice cutting through the room. The low timbre of it sent a chill racing up your spine.

“General, are you certain our forces are enough to handle their fleet?” your mother asked, voice quivering as she addressed him from your father’s other side.

The general's lips curved faintly, a low, rumbling chuckle escaping him.

“Rest easy, Your Majesty. By dawn, their remains will have joined their forefathers’ ghosts beneath the sea."

—

You had come to realize that Onichynus truly deserved the fear and respect it commanded. Just before daybreak, the gut-wrenching blare of Noir’s watchtower horns finally shattered the unnerving stillness of the island.

The enemies had fallen.

You had been locked away in one of the castle’s tower chambers, away from harm’s reach. As the kingdom’s key to securing this alliance, it was critical that no harm befell the general's betrothed.

After the second wave of victory horns, your door creaked open, revealing your maidservant—frantic, breathless from the long climb up the spiral staircase.

“Your Highness,” she gasped, voice trembling. “We’ve won.”

You could see the restraint in the way her nails dug into her apron, her blown pupils amidst her ragged breaths. She was restraining herself, her elation held in check, out of deference to you.

After all, Noir’s freedom had come at the cost of yours.

With a wistful smile, you turned toward the window, watching the flickering torchlights snake through the streets below. The chorus of jubilant cries and chants carried through the valleys, their voices rising to the heavens and echoing back from the mountain’s deepest crevices.

“It seems we have,” you murmured, voice barely audible over the chorus of celebration below.

You heard her hesitant shuffle behind you. "Several of the servants have been briefed already. They shall be ready tomorrow morning to begin preparations for the wedding."

You spun toward her, pulse pounding in your ears. "So soon?"

She lowered her gaze, unable to meet your eyes. "Onichynus wanted to complete the rites as quickly as possible, so they could sail for the mainland the following day."

You let out a slow exhale. "I see."

Your maidservant hesitated, her eyes flicking toward you, before she spoke again.

"If it offers you any comfort, ma'am," she said softly, head bowed, "you saved all of us."

You swallowed hard, forcing back the sting of tears threatening to spill.

—

Like your mother, grandmother, and all the royal women before you, you had always envisioned your wedding as a day of grandeur. You pictured riding through the town streets in the royal carriage, flanked by guards, waving to the cheering crowds. You imagined wearing a bespoke gown that sparkled in the light, a train so long it would sweep behind you like a royal procession.

You imagined trumpets announcing your arrival, their triumphant notes echoing through a hall packed with dignitaries and nobility from across the realm. And at the altar, a man of honor and equal standing would wait for you, his gaze warm with affection as you joined in a union built on love, not duty.

But now—the sun has nearly set, painting the grand temple in muted amber light. Inside, the space feels hollow, adorned only by a few hurriedly arranged flowers, their disarray a testament to the servants' exhaustion from cleaning up the siege’s destruction. Your gown, though lovely, is no custom-made masterpiece—just a window display piece hastily altered by the royal dressmaker. The pews stand mostly empty, save for your crestfallen family, a handful of somber faces from the Noir high court, and the ever-stoic Onichynus war council.

Your husband-to-be, still clad in his dark battle regalia, stands steadfast at your side, his expression an impenetrable mask as the archbishop intones the ceremonial rites. You had imagined him to be someone hard to look at—perhaps as old as a grandfather, his years as a general etched into every line of his face, and his figure weighed down by indulgent vices. Yet, to your quiet relief, he is nothing of the sort. Even if he proves unsavory as a husband or father to your future children, at least he’s pleasing to look at.

“By the will of fate, you are now bound in union,” the High Priest finally says, raising his palms toward you both. “May your allegiance to one another be as steadfast as the duties you carry, and may this union bring the future of your realms to prosperity.”

—

You wince as an elderly maidservant struggles to loosen a particularly stubborn knot in your hair, the pull jerking your head painfully. She pauses, her hand gently patting the spot in apology.

Your gaze stays fixed on the cold, flatstone floor, and you hardly notice the other maidservants bustling around you. One smooths out the faint creases in your satin nightdress, while another tugs at the neckline, pulling it lower to expose more of your cleavage and collarbone. Beneath the thin fabric, your undergarments have been removed, leaving you vulnerable to the biting chill of the room. You’ve been scrubbed clean, coated in the silkiest lotions, each scent more intoxicating than the last—all for your first night with your new husband.

“Are you nervous, Your Highness?” the elderly maidservant asks, her hands gentle as she brushes through your hair.

You pause, the question settling in your chest as you ponder how to answer.

“I can’t say I’m confident,” you say, twisting your fingers together. “I’ve never been with a man before.”

In the mirror, you catch the discreet glances exchanged behind you, their pity and concern barely hidden. You force yourself to look away, but the weight of their silent judgment lingers.

“The Onichynus general… he seemed like such a massive man,” a younger maidservant whispers, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I do hope he treats Her Highness with kindness.”

Another maidservant scoffs, her tone sharp with bitterness. “All men are beasts, driven only by their lust for control—and for anything with a pair of breasts.”

There’s a collective hiss of disapproval from the others, but the harsh words still echo in your mind. You fight to keep your face composed, though your heart aches with fear.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” the elderly maidservant says, her voice light. “The men from that state may be known for their ruthlessness, but with your likeness, the general will surely find himself a changed man.”

You can only hope the same.

Soon after, you begin your walk to the matrimonial room. The maidservants fall in step around you, their presence a quiet shield.  The lively chatter from your earlier preparations has faded, replaced by a tense, almost somber silence. Despite the considerable distance between rooms, the walk feels too short, each step too swift. Before you can fully gather your bearings, you now find yourself alone, sitting on the bed, the weight of the night settling in around you.

You shouldn’t feel this nervous. Women across the realm are bound to face this, especially those of royal blood. Consummation on the wedding night is an expectation, a duty. No matter how much you’ve dreaded or tried to avoid it, you’ve always known it was inevitable. All that’s left now is to steel yourself, strive to please your husband, and to embrace your role as a future mother—for Noir’s sake.

The doors swing open, and you flinch. The general steps inside, his damp hair clinging to his face, a clear sign of a recent bath. His attire for the evening is simple: loose trousers and a tunic that, despite its modesty, does little to hide the breadth of his shoulders or the strong lines of his chest. Your gaze betrays you, lingering longer than it should, tracing the way the fabric shifts with his movements. His towering height seems to diminish even the vast expanse of the room, making the high ceilings feel incredibly small.

His ember-like eyes catch yours and you suddenly feel too exposed.

“Good evening, princess.” 

“General,” you greet, wincing at how weak it sounds as it leaves your lips.

His gaze sweeps over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders beneath the delicate straps of your ivory nightdress, the soft swell of your breasts pressing gently against the neckline. The fabric cinches at your waist before flaring out around your hips, emphasized by the way you sit at the edge of the mattress. Your posture is rigid, hands clasped in your lap—a result of all the etiquette drilled into you from childhood.

He notices the tension in your form and lets out a sigh, turning toward the couch at the far end of the room.

You blink.

“Where are you going?” you blurt out, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Your Highness,” he drawls, settling into the couch with a lazy grace. “We don’t have to do this. You look like a kitten with her hackles raised. We could ruffle the bedding, spill some oil on the sheets, and pretend we had a night worthy of the chamberlain’s inspection.”

A flash of panic rises within you. You stand, words tumbling out in a rush. “Nonsense! Marriage is not recognized before the temple unless consummated on the night of the ceremony.”

He tilts his head, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Such peculiar customs you have here on Noir.”

You had imagined a thousand ways this night could go, a thousand versions of the man you’d just married. Not one of them prepared you for this.

You flush, frustration building in your chest. “General, I would appreciate it if you respect the customs of Noir. We are a proud people, and we honor the traditions passed down to us by our forefathers.”

He rolls his eyes. Then, with a slow, deliberate pace, he stands and makes his way toward you. For every step he takes, you fight the instinct to hunch your shoulders, to shrink away. Next thing you know, he’s standing before you, his imposing size forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain your gaze.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, gently cupping your face. The heat of his touch burns through your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You finally avert your eyes. “I’ve never been with a man before,” you manage to say with as much indifference as you can muster, nails digging into your palms.

“Really? Not even a stolen kiss in your youth?”

You clench your teeth. “There are far more pressing matters to focus on than indulging in childish flirtations.”

He laughs, a rich, deep sound that resonates through the air, stirring an unexpected warmth low in your belly.

“Alright,” he concedes, his finger tracing a slow path along your cheek. Without warning, he grips your jaw, the touch both commanding and tender, pulling your gaze back to meet his. “But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way. None of those absurd rules from your royal handbook.”

You pull back slightly, brows knitting in confusion. “The act is the same, is it not?”

“Do you agree, Your Highness?” he presses, lips grazing your ear ever so slightly. The warmth of his breath against your skin is unfamiliar, and the rush of heat that sweeps up your neck sends electrifying pulses deep within your core.

“Yes,” you grit out.

After studying your expression one last time, he lowers himself slightly, then grips the back of your thighs and lifts you with ease. You gasp, scrambling to find your balance. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, fingers digging into the firm, broad muscles of his shoulders. With a smooth shift, he adjusts your position, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips, before carrying you to the vanity desk at the center of the room.

You struggle to speak, words caught in your throat as the sensation of being so high up in the air makes you dizzy. He finally sets you down on the desk, his large palms slowly dragging down your legs, gently pushing your knees apart.

“G—General,” you stammer, eyes wide as he pulls his tunic over his head, revealing a tanned expanse of skin and the hard, defined muscles beneath. “The bed is over there—why are we here?”

A flicker of a smile plays at his lips as he tosses the fabric carelessly to the floor. “Trust me, princess. Now close your eyes.”

You want to argue, remind him that asking you to trust the most notorious figure in the realm—whom you’ve barely known for a day—is no small request. But the gravity in his scarlet gaze quiets any protest. With a reluctant breath, you close your eyes.

There’s no movement at first. Then, his calloused palms find your knees, the rough calluses a stark contrast against the smooth stretch of your skin. Heat blossoms under his touch, searing its way upward as his hands glide along the curve of your hips, the taper of your waist. You fail to suppress the shudder coursing through you when his touch pauses just below the swell of your breasts, lingering for a heartbeat before sliding to your sides, his broad palms more than spanning the width of your back.

Then, you feel the faint brush of his breath against your mouth, a fleeting warmth before his lips capture yours in a tender kiss. The hot, wet sensation has your back arching instinctively, your hardened nipples pressing through the thin fabric of your nightgown against his hard chest. A deep, throbbing ache pulses at your core, and you clamp your thighs together in a futile effort to suppress the damp heat pooling between them.

The overwhelming rush of sensations draws a whimper from your lips, your trembling hands clutching at his shoulders for stability. His response is immediate—a low, guttural groan before he deepens the kiss, his mouth returning to yours with even more fervor.

You’ve read about kissing in your sparse collection of romance novels, tried to envision the mechanics behind the act. But the mental images always fell short, awkward and unappealing, leaving you unconvinced of its charm. You’d dismissed it as unnecessary, even pointless—especially when it came to something as pragmatic and straightforward as sex.

But now the general is sneaking in the hot, wet glide of his tongue between your lips and you panic, not sure what it is he’s doing and what you’re supposed to do. He must sense your uncertainty, because his large hand moves to steady your jaw and nape, holding you in place. When he feels the accidental brush of your tongue, he wastes no time and sucks at it, the lewd sound echoing in your ears, forcing soft, strangled sounds from your throat.

You no longer feel the seeping chill from outside the castle walls, body now feeling like it’s on fire, the wetness dripping from your entrance sliding down your inner thighs. You feel like you’re drunk and about to pass out, so you push his chest back with a gentle palm.

“General,” you say, heaving through swollen lips. “What… what are we doing? The bed…”

He takes a moment to steady his breath, eyes squeezed shut, palms pressing firmly at your waist. Then, a low, rough chuckle rumbles from his chest.

“You’re infuriatingly naive,” he mutters, his sweat-damp forehead resting against your shoulder. “You must be the only woman of all arranged marriages eager to crawl into bed with a man she barely knows.”

You flush, indignant at the implication behind his words. “What are you trying to say?” you demand, mouth unconsciously forming into a pout.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing gently over your lower lip. “What I’m saying, princess, is let me take care of you. I don’t know what your upbringing has taught you, but there’s more to this than just... getting it over with.”

You’re not used to being told what to do and deviating from the rules, so you force out a sharp “fine”—an unintended display of bratty defiance, considering the man before you. But he only laughs, and to your dismay, the sound makes him even more handsome than he already is.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, lifting you by your bottom this time, pressing you flush against his chest. His hands on your backside—so close to where you’re throbbing and wet—has you flinching forward. You suddenly feel the brush of something firm against the sensitive nub above your slit, and you jerk again in surprise.

He chuckles, before gently lowering you onto the soft expanse of the mattress. His lips find your collarbone first, then trail down to your nipples, where he suckles through the fabric. A soft whimper escapes you, your fingers curling into the sheets. You can feel his smile against your skin as his tongue sweeps over one of your sensitive buds, before continuing its journey down toward your abdomen.

But then he hovers his face above your groin that’s barely concealed by the bunched-up hem of your nightgown. Alarm jolts through you, and you prop yourself up on your elbows, torso rising instinctively. You attempt to close your legs, but his hands hold them firmly apart. 

“General—”

“Sylus,” he interrupts, lips brushing along the inside of your knee. “We’re married now, sweetheart. Use my name.”

A twisted sense of pride coils within you, knowing you hold both the name and face of the most infamous man in the realm.

You hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat before continuing. “Sylus,” you echo, the name oddly satisfying on your lips. “Not that I’m… doubting your expertise, but is all of this really necessary?”

He exhales heavily, saying nothing at first. Then, he takes your hand—its size utterly lost in his grip—and guides it down your body. His movements are deliberate, stopping only when your palm meets the undeniable hardness of his cock, straining against his trousers.

You struggle to contain the jumbled stutters tumbling from your lips. “What are you—”

“I’m a big man,” he states matter-of-factly, his gaze unwavering. “And this is your first time. As you are now—you won’t be able to handle me.”

You don’t fully understand what he means, but the statement silences you nonetheless.

He chuckles, letting go of your hand, and you immediately pull it back to your chest. “May I?” he asks, his voice low as he hovers below you once again.

You flash a glare, before nodding reluctantly.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans back, his gaze shifting downward to the space between your legs. Slowly, he lifts the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until the cool air brushes against your exposed skin. You watch, eyes heavy, fighting the tremors rushing through you, as his hand moves along the inside of your thigh. When his fingers brush against your folds, a sharp exhale escapes you, and your head falls back onto the mattress.

“You’re so sensitive, princess,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his words.

“Shut up and get on with it,” you snap, covering your eyes with your forearm.

You hear a quiet laugh escape him before two fingers press against the sensitive nub above your folds, sending a shock of pleasure through your body. Your back arches instinctively as he slides his fingers up and down against your entrance. The motion, slick and sinful, leaves you gasping, and you struggle to keep your legs open, body trembling from the unfamiliar pleasure.

Sylus’ eyes darken, flicking between the way his fingers tease your slick folds and the way your breasts strain against your dress. His breathing grows heavier as he reaches up, pulling the neckline down to expose your chest. A soft whine escapes you when his hand cups one swell, firm yet gentle, while the other continues its relentless ministrations below.

“I’m pressing one in, alright?” he murmurs.

You barely register the words before he pushes a thick finger past your folds.

“Wait—it feels—ngh—it’s strange,” you stammer, voice hitching on a whine.

He stills immediately, digit only halfway in. “Does it hurt?”

“I… kind of? I don’t know…”

You’re panting. The pressure is peculiar, and quite unpleasant. Your body tenses at the newness of it, the unfamiliar stretch bordering on discomfort.

He remains patient, finger unmoving. Then, you feel his thumb press on your nub, drawing gentle circles against the sensitive lower hood of it. The obscene sound of slickness fills the space and you’re mortified, toes curling at the wave of arousal soaking his hand.

“This better?” he whispers, drinking in every detail—your heaving chest, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the tremor in your thighs, and the glistening mess pooling between them.

You can’t respond, overwhelmed by the spiraling pleasure.

A chuckle rumbles from him, low and pleased, as he presses the rest of his finger inside. This time, it slides in smoothly, and the high-pitched moan that escapes you is muffled by your trembling palm. Now knuckle-deep, he gently strokes upward, pressing on a rough spot that makes you jerk in his hold.

“I’m going to try something, alright?” he says softly, breath brushing against your knee as he plants a tender kiss.

“Okay,” you croak, struggling to process the pulsing sensations building deep inside you.

The circles on your nub stop, and you almost whimper at the loss. But before you can voice your complaints, something warm, wet, and utterly foreign replaces his thumb. Your head snaps back, a raw, choked cry tearing from your lips.

“General—hah—Sylus… What are you—?”

He doesn’t answer. Dazed, you prop yourself up and the sight before you is almost too much: the most powerful man in the realm, kneeling between your legs, his mouth worshiping you with unrelenting fervor. His tongue laps at your folds, drags it languidly up to your engorged nub before closing his lips around it, sucking in a way that sends sharp, electric pulses straight through your core.

Panicked by the unbearable pressure building inside, you try to push his head away. “Stop—it’s strange, I feel like I’m going to—”

Before you can finish, he slides another finger inside, stretching you further. His fingers curl, stroking that spongy spot with unrelenting precision. His mouth works in tandem, alternating between suckling and lapping at your overstimulated nub.

Tears blur your vision as the intensity peaks. You scream into your palms, hips bucking against his mouth and hand as you feel yourself tip over the high he brought you to.

Sylus watches, entranced, as your legs open wider, cries muffled as your body convulses under his ministrations. Even as you shatter under him, he doesn’t let up, prolonging your fall at his mercy. And when you’re finally sent over the edge, your release flooding his eager mouth, he drinks in the sight of you—flushed, trembling, and utterly spent.

He presses his cheek against your inner thigh, feeling the delicate tremors rippling through your body as you struggle to steady your breathing. His eyes trail over your folds, soft and swollen, slightly parted as your essence continues to glisten and drip. Unable to hold back, he dips his head and presses a slow, deliberate kiss, groaning as your intoxicating taste lingers on his lips.

Your cry pierces the air, hands flying to his hair as you tug with desperation. “W—Wait…! I can’t… it’s too much… please…”

He only chuckles, low and teasing, before placing a final kiss on the sensitive nub above your folds. Then, he moves upward, settling his weight against you. His chin rests between your breasts, arms locking yours in place as his eyes meet yours, heat and satisfaction dancing in his gaze.

As clarity slowly returns, the enormity of what just happened hits you. He—the Onichynus general, a man who strikes fear in nations across the realm—had just laved at your most intimate area with his tongue. Such an act is nowhere to be found in the guides you’ve read on sex, not even as a distant suggestion. And yet, you enjoyed it. Far more than you care to admit.

An embarrassed huff escapes you as heat blooms across your face. You throw your hands up to cover it, unwilling to meet the insufferable smugness you can practically feel radiating from him below.

Suddenly, you feel the neckline of your dress being tugged down again, catching beneath your breasts. Then, you feel the flat of his tongue gently press on a nipple, circling it with the tip before pulling it into his mouth to suckle. His hand slides up to your other bud, palm brushing over it in slow, deliberate motions. Breasts are meant to nourish, to sustain future generations—mere vessels for the creation of life. Yet the hairs at the back of your neck raise on end as you feel the return of the persistent pulsing deep within you. You bite your lip, stifling the sounds threatening to escape, back arching as you desperately chase the sensation of his mouth on you.

“We can stop now if you wish, Your Highness,” he murmurs against your skin.

Fighting the heaviness taking over your body, you grab his jaw, forcing him to meet the fire in your gaze. “Do you have a problem with consummating with me, general?”

He responds with a particularly sharp suck at your nipple.

“Ngh—! Sylus! I meant Sylus!” you cry out, correcting yourself with a gasp.

He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before moving to the soft curve of your breast. His mouth alternates between harsh sucking and teasing bites, leaving a trail of bruised blooms in his wake.

“While intercourse may be a mere formality to you Noir people, in Onichynus, it’s an act of passion and love,” he says, voice low as he shifts to giving attention to your other bud. “I wish to ensure that Her Highness, my wife, has a memorable first experience. So, if you feel spent for the night, we can always stop. At any time.”

His words settle deep inside you and you feel warmth spread in your chest. Perhaps Onichynus is more than the tales of its ruthless reputation, after all. Hesitantly, you caress his cheek, heart aching at the way he closes his eyes and nuzzles into your palm. He almost seems like a clingy pet feline.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I want to finish the rites,” you say softly. Then, you flush, struggling to find the right words. “And, um, I didn’t expect things to be this… good. I don’t mind experiencing more, if it’s alright with you.”

It takes a moment for your words to register, and when they do, Sylus smirks—a slow, predatory curl of his lips that sends heat coursing through your body. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushes your bottom lip, and this time, you grant him easy access. You mimic what he did to you earlier, tentatively wrapping your lips around his tongue and sucking gently.

Immediately, a low, visceral groan escapes him as his hips press forward, grinding his restrained arousal against your soaked folds. The rough fabric of his trousers drags against your sensitive nub, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through you. You whine into his mouth, arms winding around his neck as you pull him impossibly closer.

Sylus seems barely in control now, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he adjusts his movements, angling his hips so that the ridge where his shaft meets the head rubs directly against your overstimulated nub.

Without warning, he breaks the kiss, leaving you on the verge of a whine as a string of spit bridges the space between you. He steps back, tugging his trousers down in one swift motion. Your gaze drops instinctively, and your breath catches at the sight of him.

Broad shoulders taper into a lean waist, and every inch of his sculpted body radiates strength. But it’s the thick, throbbing length between his legs that holds your attention. He notices the starstruck look on your gaze and he chuckles, walking closer to you until you're face level with it. Taking your hand, he gently wraps it around his girth. The sheer thickness overwhelms your grip, and your breath catches at the realization.

“Feel free to take a look,” he rasps.

You’ve never seen a cock before, but instinctively, you know this one is massive. The shaft is thick,  with prominent veins that seem to throb faintly, and the soft, rounded shapes below it look heavy and full. The bulbous, mushroom-shaped tip is flushed, beads of some kind of white, translucent fluid glistening at the slit. For some reason, you feel the urge to lean in and taste it.

Sylus takes your hand, shaping it into a loose 'O.' “This is you,” he murmurs, guiding your fingers to glide along his length, spreading the slick fluid. “And this…” He pushes through the circle you’ve made, the thick head sliding in and out. “…is how it’ll feel when I’m inside you.”

Slowly, he begins to move, sliding his shaft through your grip. The sensation is intoxicating, and you’re mesmerized by the sight of him—his cock pumping in and out of your hand, each stroke leaving it sticky with his arousal. You don’t even realize your lips are parting until you lean forward, your tongue darting out to flick against the leaking tip.

Sylus lets out a guttural moan, one hand tangling in your hair as his hips jerk involuntarily. His taste—salty and slightly bitter—is heady, and the heat of him against your tongue heightens your arousal. He bucks into your mouth, and though you gag slightly, you fight to take more of him, desperate for the connection.

You feel too empty.

“Princess—fuck—this is torture,” he groans, his deep voice rough with restraint.

You can only moan in response, lips stretched around his cock as he begins thrusting into your mouth. His large hands steady your head, guiding your movements. You peek up at him through fluttering lashes, and you feel your folds quiver at the sinful sight of the Onichynus general panting, eyes shut, sweat-covered muscles taut as he pistons in and out of you.

You are Noir’s beloved princess—revered and envied for your beauty, grace, and intellect—yet now you’re barely coherent, delirious over the addictive taste of your husband as he fucks your mouth over and over.

One particularly deep thrust hits the back of your throat and you gag, tears springing to your eyes. Sylus curses under his breath and withdraws immediately.

“Princess, I’m sorry,” he pants, taking in the sight of you—tears streaking your cheeks, saliva glistening on your lips, thighs pressed together in a futile attempt to relieve your ache.

“It’s okay,” you croak, voice hoarse and small.

Sylus pauses, taking a moment to steady himself and pull back from the frenzy consuming him, before climbing onto the bed, positioning himself against the headboard. His hands grip your waist, lifting you effortlessly to straddle his lap. Movements frantic and barely restrained, he aligns your slick folds against the length of his shaft. His lips find yours again, urgent and demanding, while his hands grip your hips, guiding you to rock against him. The friction against your sensitive nub draws a cry from you, and he groans into your mouth.

“Let me have you, princess,” he practically begs against your lips between heavy breaths.

You barely have time to process his words before he lifts you slightly, the broad head of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance. Then, you feel an immediate, sharp stretch as he breaches your folds, pushing deeper until the full length of him fills you to the hilt.

A strangled cry escapes you and you collapse against his chest, burying your face in his neck with stilted sobs. Sylus remains still, large hands massaging your rear soothingly, coaxing your body to adjust.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple. “Just breathe. Let me in.”

“It hurts,” you gasp. He shifts slightly, and a sharp sensation makes you wince, like he’s hitting a spot that feels too far, too much. “T—Too big…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, breath hot and uneven against your ear. His hands move carefully, gently parting the delicate skin of your folds in an attempt to ease the stretch and make it more bearable.

Keeping his hips as still as possible, he reaches for the hem of your now sweat-soaked nightgown, lifting it with as much gentleness as he can muster. His eyes trace the path of the fabric as it reveals the slick mess of fluids dripping from where you're joined, the soft curve of your belly, the delicate bounce of your breasts freed from constraint, and finally, your tear-streaked face—beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly his. Guilt flickers through him as he feels himself twitch and grow even harder inside you, despite your pained whimpers.

After tossing the fabric aside, his lips find your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to the spots that make your walls flutter around him, drawing soft, helpless sounds from your lips. 

“Once you’re settled in our home on the mainland, you’ll have everything you could ever desire,” he murmurs, hands gliding up to rub gentle circles over your hardened nipples.

“You’ll have servants at your beck and call, and you’ll be free to do whatever you please. No one will dare defy you—no one will even think to.”

The vivid imagery of his words wraps around your mind like a spell, pulling you deeper into him. The sharp discomfort of being stretched begins to ebb, replaced by a dull ache that shifts to faint blooms of pleasure.

“And when you finally swell with my child,” he breathes, tone thick with promise, “I’ll find endless delight in claiming you over and over, until the first light of dawn touches us.”

You flush at the picture of him taking you like this, with your belly round and full with his heir.

He chuckles low against your ear, the sound dark and rich. “Oh? You like that idea, don’t you?”

You huff, landing a light smack on his chest. “Do not tease me,” you protest, voice carrying a hint of authority despite your half-lidded gaze. The sight of you perched on his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, while you fix him with a stern, regal expression befitting a princess is enough to have his hips bucking up to you.

With a strained groan, he crashes his lips against your neck, his cock throbbing almost painfully within your tight walls. “I need you, princess,” he rasps against your skin, barely holding back the urge to thrust up into you.

The pressure of the stretch still lingers, but the sharp pain has melted into pulses of pleasure. You place your hips back, grinding your sensitive nub against his groin, desperate for more. “Please do something,” you plead, hips moving in frantic, clumsy circles, chasing a bliss you don’t know you’re craving.

Sylus doesn’t hesitate. He lowers you back onto the mattress while still buried deep inside you. Propping himself up on his elbows, his gaze locks onto yours as he slowly draws his hips back, leaving only the tip nestled at your entrance. Then, in a single, fluid motion, he sinks back in to the hilt, filling you completely in one long, unrelenting stroke.

You cry out, this time in response to the delicious friction of his cock dragging against your walls. Driven wild by your reaction, he pulls back again, then thrusts deeply into you with another slow, deliberate plunge. A hiss escapes him as the head of his cock presses against your deepest depths.

“You’re doing so good,” he groans, lips brushing over the bruises left by his earlier kisses on your neck. “You’ve been such a darling for me, haven’t you?”

To his twisted delight, you remain incomprehensible, helpless sounds pouring from your kiss-bitten lips as you scramble to steady yourself by gripping his shoulders, nails digging painfully into his skin. He’s almost feral at the way your flesh ripples from the impact of each thrust. The princess of Noir, coveted by men all over the realm, now lies beneath him, sweat-slicked, legs spread, and taking his cock so wonderfully.  But beyond that, he sees the most perfect queen—one whose unparalleled intellect and sharp wit can stand beside him in his pursuit for power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, and you whine, tears staining your cheeks at the dizzying emptiness. He merely shushes you soothingly before gently turning you over onto your stomach. Before you can garble out a question on what he’s doing, he plunges into you once more, hitting a spot against your front that has you curling your toes and screaming into the sheets.

“I—It feels s—strange again—!” you manage between broken whimpers, each word punctuated by the relentless rhythm of his movements against your sore walls.

“Wanna feel good again, princess?” he murmurs against your ear.

Your answering sob is all the reply you can muster.

Suddenly, you’re hoisted up on your knees, his strong arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand grips your jaw, holding your face up. His thrusts quicken, erratic and desperate, and you gasp as his tongue traces the outer shell of your ear. Then, his hand slides lower, fingers finding the swollen nub above your abused folds. The sudden burst of pleasure at the rubbing motion has you crying out, body tightening as a familiar heat coils low in your belly.

You begin to thrash in his hold at the overwhelming sensations. “Sy—I think—I think I’m—”

“Let it happen, princess, I got you.”

With those words, your hands tangle in his sweat-damp hair as a violent shudder wracks your body, exhausted sobs escaping your lips. His relentless pace doesn’t falter, eyes locked on the harsh bounce of your breasts as he pounds into you from behind, chasing his release. The tight grip of your walls and the slick heat enveloping his cock finally push him over the edge, his thrusts turning shallow and frantic before burying himself deep with a final, forceful motion, spilling his seed inside you.

Sylus takes a moment to catch his breath, pressing soft, chaste kisses along your shoulders.

“You alright, princess?”

You don’t respond.

Confused, he gently tilts your head back, only to find your peaceful, sleeping face, soft snores escaping your lips. He huffs a small laugh. How adorable.

Carefully, he shifts against the headboard, settling you onto him with his half-hard cock still nestled inside, twitching faintly. Draping your legs over his knees, he starts massaging your inner thighs, soothing the soreness he knows must be there.

A series of sharp knocks echoes through the room.

“This is the chamberlain. I must confirm that the consummation rites have been fulfilled for your marriage to be deemed legitimate by the Grand Temple.”

Sylus scowls, eyes scanning over your sleeping form. “Can’t this wait in the morning?”

“This is necessary to eliminate any possibility of deceit in performing the rites.”

“Damn uptights,” he mutters. Then, a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. “Well, come in then.”

The door swings open, revealing the old chamberlain in his faded temple robes, his attention fixed on his ledger. He mumbles the schedule for the following day as he approaches the bed. When he finally looks up, expecting to see the usual ruffled, soaked sheets, he freezes, almost stumbling backward in shock.

You—the cherished Noir princess, known for your beauty and headstrong grace—lie exhausted, nestled against the imposing form of the feared Onichynus general behind you. His scarlet eyes glint as he sucks a mark onto the side of your neck, and beneath you, his impressive girth disappears into your swollen, intimate folds, generous amounts of your combined essences coating his base.

���This is evidence enough, no?” Sylus taunts, sneaking in a shallow thrust up to you, drawing a soft, breathless whine from your throat.

The chamberlain stammers, his words fumbling as he backs toward the door.

“Y—Yes, the rites are confirmed. Good night,” he rushes out in a single breath before slamming the door behind him.

Chuckling, Sylus pulls his sleeping wife closer, placing a tender kiss on your temple. You’ll need the rest for the long journey ahead, and for whatever adjustments await you back on the mainland.

But, in the end, none of that matters.

He’s just grateful to have found his beloved kitten again.

check out my other works!

[joonberriess]

⊹₊ ⋆ “put your ass in my face 'til I get pink eye, fuck you anywhere, I'm that type guy,”

TAGS — face riding, pussy-eating, jk’s whipped asf, he’s whiny too, creampies, cum-eating/feeding, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, reader is cute but she’s NASTY, lowkey subby!jk

WORD COUNT — 1.9 k

One thing Jungkook loved about you was the way you teased him–made him beg for it and had him on his knees for your pussy. He’d die for just a little taste..just a tiny one, he wanted to slobber all over it till the drool was running down his chin and his face was smeared in your slick. His poor cock stirs just thinking about having you on his tongue all over again.

“Good morning.” You cheerfully smile, “Thought I’d make some breakfast before we leave.” You turn to lean back against the counter, the very sight of you has his mouth running dry as he takes you in. You’re wearing nothing but his black oversized shirt that ends above your thighs, underneath he can see your pretty panties you had surprised him with yesterday when you came over, and the rest of you is laid out bare for him.

Jungkook licks his lips and saunters over, “Not hungry–for food at least.” He eyes you up and down as he crowds you up against the counter, “Fuck, you look so good.” He whispers under his breath dropping his hands down underneath his shirt, his big hands cup both cheeks and give them a hard squeeze. “You should walk around my house like this more.” He chuckles.

“Yeah?” You softly purr as you wound your arms around his neck, “You like it when I wear your clothes?” Your eyes fall down to his lips, “I like them too, but I think I look better with nothing on.” You bite your lip with a soft giggle, watching as his eyes darken, “Don’t you think so?”

Jungkook groans under his breath and presses his lips to yours messily, “Fuck yes,” he whispers fiercely as he continues kissing you, “you’re a fuckin’ dream.” The noises his lips make when he smacks them against yours fill up the otherwise quiet kitchen. Jungkook’s moaning softly against your lips and his hands are greedily grabbing anywhere and everywhere.

You softly sigh into his mouth and lean back with him following, not wanting to separate from the heated kiss. When you began running out of air you swiftly pulled back and stared up at him with glossed over eyes. “The food is gonna get cold,” you murmur, “don’t want it to go to waste.”

Jungkook grumbles, “No, baby–c’mon,” he tries to reel you back in after you start side-stepping to get out from between him and the counter, “don’t want food, just want your little pussy..” He trails off as he corners you once again, “You feel that? How crazy you’re driving me?” He brings your hand down over his boxers, pushing his hard cock up against your soft hand.

You nearly drool when you feel the thick outline of his cock, and there’s a damp spot that has you internally whining. “And how do you want me?”

“Anyway, just wanna eat your pussy out baby.” Jungkook paws at your panties and tries to get you to take them off but you stop him, “Baby.” He whines again and steps back when you motion for him to move. He eyes you questioningly, watching with a pouty gaze as you slowly lift the hem of his shirt. “Oh fuck.” He whispers under his breath.

You smile teasingly at him and hook your fingers under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly. He licks his lips hungrily and waits patiently, “C’mere love,” you curl your finger at him, “ah-ah, on your knees for me Jungkookie.” You purr.

Jungkook stumbles over eagerly, falling before you on his knees as he looks up at you waiting. “You’ll do anything I want?” You tilt your head.

“Anything.” He nods eagerly with his throat bobbing as he swallows harshly.

You slowly hook your leg over his shoulder and bring him closer, pussy hovering right over his lips. Jungkook licks his lips and turns his eyes up to you, as if he were asking for permission. “Go on, make me cum Jungkookie, you can have it baby.” You bite your lip. He immediately dives in and runs his tongue over your soft slicked up folds.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut and you watch a subtle shudder go through his body, like he’s getting pleasure from just eating you out alone. His hand comes up to pull you in by your ass cheeks and your pussy rubs over his face. His tongue slips past your folds and he circles it around your clit, moaning against your pussy. The vibrations have you whining quietly under your breath.

“Fuck.” You whisper under your breath.

Jungkook busies himself with sucking on your clit, licking at your inner folds, and letting his tongue prod at your slicked up hole. He pulls back to pant softly against your pussy, his eyes are glossed over and filled with dark desires. You guide him by the back of his head to your pussy, “Feels so good..” You whisper and feed your cunt to him, you let your hips roll forward slowly as you smother his face with your pussy.

He groans lowly and tilts his head up, “Need more,” he pants softly, “ ‘s not enough, need your pussy ‘round my cock. Gonna fuck you so good till you’re shaking baby.” He puts his hot mouth over your cunt once more and sucks harshly on your sensitive little bud.

“Oh,” you shudder and tilt your head back, “like that.” You shakily grind against his mouth and dig your fingernails into his scalp, “So good baby, you’re gonna make me cum.” You whine, “Bet you’re gonna fuck me so good, fill me till I’m dripping with your cum,” you purr out.

Jungkook’s moans mix with soft slupring noises, he digs his fingers into your soft cheeks and desperately chases after you when your hips move even the slightest bit away from his mouth. Your pussy throbs and a sharp wave of pleasure rolls over you as you cum on his tongue. He doesn’t let up on your poor throbbing clit, licking and sucking over it while you ride out the rest of your orgasm.

“Fuck that’s enough baby.” You whine quietly and push at his head, “C’mon, you said you’d fuck me good.”

Jungkook pulls back, panting heavily as he looks up at you with those doe eyes, “ ‘m gonna fuck you so good,” he replies as he slowly rises to his towering height, looking down as he pins you up against the counter once more.

You bite your lip eagerly and slip your hand into his sweats, happy to find that he forgoed wearing anything underneath. His cock throbs, it’s hot and sits heavy against your soft palm. You stroke him slowly, running your hand over every inch and vein that sits on his hard shaft. Jungkook moans low and kicks his hips into your hand, “Baby–let me have it,” he begs softly, “need your pussy around me cock.”

“Yeah? And if I said only the tip?” You grin when he whines, “What’s the matter baby? Thought you wanted my pussy ‘round your cock.”

Jungkook bites on his piercing and paws at your soft hips, “Please baby, you know what I’m gonna say.” He whispers as he licks his lips, “So let me have it, yeah?” He crowds you.

You bite your lip and nod, hiking your leg up around his waist and tugging his cock out of his sweats, letting the waistband sit below his swollen balls. You align the tip with your pussy, pressing the weeping head over your cunt and against your clit. He sighs softly and nudges forward, letting his cock slip right between your fat folds with a low squelch.

“More baby.” He groans and continues sliding his cock up against your messy pussy over and over again.

The glide is smooth, your slick coats his cock and makes it messy. His cockhead prods at your clit over and over again sending sharp jabs of pleasure down your spine. You guide his cock to your hole and whine quietly as he stuffs you full of him, letting it push past and slip right in where he belongs. It has your back arching in pleasure as he fills you up so perfectly.

“Oh fuck.” Jungkook moans out as he sets his hands on either side of you on the counter, caging you in so you don’t go running off anywhere. “Pussy so tight ‘round me, got you creaming all over me like a messy little slut. Gonna make you clean it with your mouth baby.” He pants hotly against your ear as he pumps his cock in and out of you.

Your mouth falls open and a shaky breath escapes you, you feel so full you’re rendered speechless from how good the pressure feels. Your leg that’s wrapped around his waist tightens, you roll your hips to meet his as the two of you fuck up into eachother desperately.

You claw at his shoulders and moan high and breathy, “Right there Kook, fucking me so good.” You whimper out.

Jungkook fucks into you harder, his knuckles turn white from how tight he’s gripping the counter. The sounds of his hips meeting your plush ass fill the entire kitchen, slick dribbles down his cock and stains his sweats and balls. The noises your pussy makes only fuels his desire for you, slamming home into your cunt over and over again.

“Right there baby? You’re gonna cum for me again?” He breathes out and turns his head to bury his face in your neck. “Yeah?” He whispers when he feels your pussy tighten around him, “Go on baby, cum on this cock.” He grins softly.

You moan loudly and throw your head back as your hips buck wildly against his own, “Kook..!” You gasp, your pussy flutters around his cock. Jungkook in response speeds up and hoists you up against him, his cock pushes right up against your g-spot and that’s your undoing.

“Fuck.” You sob out while coming around his cock.

Jungkook fucks into you a couple more times, shuddering when he feels your hand drop down to wrap around his balls and fondle them while he fucks you. “Shit.” He whispers and lets his eyes fall closed, his hips roll slowly until he cums, filling your slicked up pussy to the brim.

“I feel gross now.” You mumble out, reaching down between the two of you to swipe up some of his cum, bringing your finger up to your lips and sucking.

Jungkook shudders at the sight and gets an idea, “Can I..?” He asks softly as he slowly slips out of your messy cunt with a lewd squelch. You give him a cheeky smile and nod, leaning back against the counter and spreading your thighs apart for him. He falls to his knees and laps up the mess between your sticky folds, you sigh in relief when his tongue runs over your clit in a soothing manner.

When Jungkook finishes he comes up and you bring him down for a kiss, moaning into his mouth as you slip your tongue into his mouth. The taste of him and you definitely has you weak in the knees, and you know he feels the same way. “Breakfast?” You ask softly.

Jungkook licks his lips, “No thanks,” he smacks your ass as he passes by, “just had some.” He grins whistling softly.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan

[littlest-w01f]

Hello, I hope you are well. Can I make a request where Xaden and Garrick are in love with their best friend, where there is jealousy, and a polyamorous ending, please?😊

a/n: I'm good anon <3 omg this idea is so cuteee, and some fighting jealousy YASSS

Ache

Xaden x Reader x Garrick

XADEN MASTERLIST

GARRICK MASTERLIST

EMPYREAN MASTERLIST

Summary: You were friends since you were little, you never would've thought your best friends liked you more than friends, but they did, leading to some very awkward interactions the older you grew, till Xaden and Garrick got aggressive.

Cw: Boyfriend and boyfriend are fighting :(

It was a normal day on the mat, the cadets looked at them drooling. As Xaden and Garrick faced off against each other, their chiselled torsos glistened with sweat. The air was thick with tension and as they circled each other. 

You stood watching, smiling, wiping away the sweat on your own bare midsection, a cropped top to cover your chest, your mark-covered arms exposed, swirls going up from your palms to your collarbones, admiring the dagger you'd won from your opponent.

As the two men circled each other like predators, you couldn't help but admire the way their chiselled torsos flexed with each movement. Rivulets of sweat traced intricate patterns over their defined abs and pecs, highlighting every sculpted muscle.

Your gaze lingered on Xaden's rippling muscles, the way his biceps flexed with each movement. His eyes, a piercing onyx, locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You recalled the countless hours you had spent training together, pushing each other to be stronger, faster, and more ruthless.

Garrick, on the other hand, exuded a raw power that made your heart race. His hair clung to his forehead, damp with perspiration, and his chiselled jawline seemed carved from stone. When he grinned at you, revealing a hint of teeth, you felt a thrill course through your veins.

"I heard they challenged each other..." Imogen came up behind you, wrapping her arm around your neck, "Now why would two best friends do that?"

"You know those two," You replied, nodding towards the sparring partners. "They're always trying to one-up each other. It's a game for them, who can land the most hits, who can take the most punishment." You chuckled, remembering the countless times you had witnessed their friendly rivalry.

"GIrl wake up! There's nothing friendly about this." Imogen hissed in your ear, only for you to hear. "They look like they want to kill each other."

As Imogen's words hung in the air, you watched as Xaden and Garrick's battle intensified. Their movements became lightning-fast, each strike landing with precision and force. Sweat flew from their bodies, creating a mesmerizing dance of water droplets suspended in the air.

Their blows landed with bone-jarring force, sending shockwaves through the mat beneath them. Sweat flew from their bodies as they grappled, their movements a blur of fists and feet.

Xaden lunged forward, his fist connecting with Garrick's jaw in a resounding crack. But instead of backing off, Garrick retaliated with a vicious kick that sent Xaden stumbling backwards. The crowd of cadets gasped, sensing the shift in momentum.

Garrick looked up at you, giving you a proud smile. As his triumphant grin met yours, you felt a surge of pride mixed with concern. His eyes, usually bright, were now narrowed in focus, his expression hardening into a mask of determination, something darker. He turned back to face Xaden, who flipped back to his feet, a fierce glint in his own eyes, as if angered at his smile towards you.

Xaden charged forward, his fists flying in a flurry of punches. Garrick parried the blows, getting hit by a few, his own hands a whirlwind of counterattacks. They clashed in a storm of violence, their breathing heavy and laboured.

As they fought, you noticed subtle changes in their demeanour. Gone was the playful banter, replaced by a deadly seriousness. Each hit seemed to carry a deeper meaning, a silent message only the recipient could decipher.

Your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the once-friendly match descend into a brutal, no-holds-barred brawl. The cadets around you fell silent, their faces etched with concern and awe at the display of raw strength and skill unfolding before them.

They were speaking but you couldn't hear anything through the fury of their hits, you focused on their lips, hoping your signet of heightened senses would let you hear them, deduce what was going in between the childhood best friends.

You concentrated intensely, straining to catch even a whisper amidst the cacophony of grunts, punches, and kicks. Your heightened senses, allowed you to perceive subtle vibrations in the air, whispers of sound waves barely audible to the human ear.

"You're a backstabber Xaden! Just like your old man, you don't deserve her, you threw us away over her."

"At least I'm no liar like yours! Keeping your feelings a secret while you fuck her with your eyes right in front of me."

"y/n isn't yours, she's deserves better than you could ever be."

"I suppose you think that you, you fucker. You chose her over us too! You ruined our friendship!"

The words echoed faintly in your ear, unmistakable in their implication. The realization struck you like a shock, beneath the surface of their friendship, a rift had grown, festering with resentment and hurt. The brutal fight was less about winning than about unleashing pent-up emotions, a cathartic release of years of unspoken anger.

As the truth dawned on you, you felt a pang of sorrow mixed with trepidation. Because you were involved in this. They were fighting over you.

You thought back to the past weeks, the subtle changes in their interactions. The way Xaden had withdrawn, the icy looks Garrick shot him when he thought you weren't paying attention. The whispered conversations late at night, away from others, the hushed laughter that cut off abruptly whenever you were with one of them and the other entered the room.

You felt a lump form in your throat as you watched them trade blows, their faces twisted in anguish rather than triumph. This wasn't the carefree camaraderie you once knew. Something had fractured, leaving an abyss too wide to bridge. You had ruined their friendship

You glanced at Imogen, noticing her worried expression mirroring your own. She leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper. "What's going on, y/n? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Before you could respond, a sudden cry pierced the air. You turned to see Garrick lying on the ground, clutching his side. Your eyes were wide as a bloodied Xaden stood sneering over his friend, the second the professor yelled out to stop, you ran to Garrick on the floor, placing his head on your lap. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" You yelled at Xaden, who was breathing heavily, wiping away the blood on his split lip

Xaden's eyes flashed with defiance, but there was a flicker of uncertainty beneath the surface. He glared at you, then at Garrick's form, before finally meeting your furious gaze. "He started it," he spat, though his tone lacked confidence. "Not my fault he can't handle it."

Your outrage boiled over, fuelled by the pain etched on Garrick's face. You reached up and grabbed Xaden by the back of his sweaty neck, yanking him down to your eye level. "Don't you dare stand there and lie!" you seethed. "You two have been at each other's throats for weeks, I heard what you said to each other."

You helped Garrick up to his feet, "You two fuckers, my bunk. Now." You almost growled, shoving Xaden out. Xaden stumbled back, his eyes widening at your forceful reaction. You placed a comforting hand on Garrick's arm, feeling the tremors still coursing through him.

As you led Garrick and Xaden to your bunk, the weight of the situation settled heavily upon you. The once joyful atmosphere of your friendship now felt tainted, the cracks in your friends' relationships laid bare.

Once inside, you guided them to sit on the edge of your bed, their battered bodies a stark contrast to the neat rooms. You pulled a seat to sit before them, your hands resting on their knees, searching their faces for answers. "Tell me what happened between you two. Tell me why my best friends are fighting like rabid dogs calling each other names people who put our parents to be executed are calling us."

Garrick's gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw clenched tightly. Xaden, however, met your eyes directly, his own filled with a mix of regret and anger. "It started with... The bet," he began, his voice low and strained. "About... Who you value more."

Garrick's voice cracked with an ache. "It started with little things... Disagreements over strategy during sparring, differing opinions on how to handle certain situations, Xaden always undermined me. But under the surface, we both knew it was about more than that."

A wave of unease washed over you, your heart sinking at the mention of you in their bet. "Me?" you asked, confusion lacing your tone. "You fucking bet on which one of my friends I value more?"

Xaden's eyes flashed with a mix of shame and defensiveness. "It wasn't like that, y/n," he protested, but the guilt written across his face told a different story. "We just wanted to know... If we had a chance, if you saw us in the same light."

Garrick's voice was heavy with bitterness. "But you didn't even realize, did you? You kept us at arm's length, treating us like friends instead of potential lovers."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, reaching out to place a hand on each of their shoulders. "I never meant to hurt either of you. I value you both equally in any way... The fact that you fought for my love..."

Your eyes harden, "Is really fucking STUPID." You stood up, looking at their bruised and battered faces and bodies. "Hug each other. Hug each other right now. Right here."

Garrick and Xaden exchanged a hesitant glance, but slowly rose to their feet. They moved towards each other cautiously, like wary animals approaching each other. Yet as they drew closer, the tension dissipated, replaced by a palpable longing.

In a tender gesture, Garrick wrapped his arms around Xaden, pulling him into a tight embrace. Xaden's arms encircled Garrick's waist, holding him close as if afraid to let go. As they held each other, the tension in the room began to dissipate.

"Good." You smiled watching them hugging, "Now, apologise."

They avoided eye contact, their gazes drifting to the floor as they struggled to find the right words.

Finally, Garrick spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Xaden. For everything. For letting jealousy consume me, for making you doubt yourself, for hurting you." He waited for Xaden to respond and when he didn't he turned to you, "He won't say sorry."

Xaden remained silent, his expression a mask of stubborn pride. After a moment of tense silence, you stepped forward, placing a hand on Xaden's bicep. "Xaden, say sorry." You commanded softly.

Xaden's eyes met yours, a spark of defiance lingering in their depths. But as he beheld the sincerity and compassion in your gaze, his resolve crumbled. "I'm sorry," he muttered, turning to Garrick, the words tumbling out in a rush. "For doubting you, for putting pressure on our friendship, for being a dick."

You smiled, "Good boys." You teased, "I'm jumping in." You jumped into them, hugging them by your arms around their necks. You squeezed them tightly, relishing the warmth of their bodies pressed against yours. "My beautiful, idiotic boys," you murmured, nuzzling their cheeks affectionately. "Can't you see how much you mean to me? Both of you, equally, completely, forever."

Garrick and Xaden returned your embrace, their arms wrapping around your waist in a trio of entwined limbs. For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the three of you, lost in the comfort of your shared affection.

"I love you guys so much, in any and all ways." you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "Let's not make the same mistakes again, okay? We're better than that."

"So, how do we move from here?" Xaden asked, his face pressed in your chest, "Will you choose?"

You cupped Xaden's chin, tilting his face up to meet your gaze. "No, I won't choose. I love you both, equally, and that's not changing." You emphasized each word, making sure he understood the finality of your stance. "Either all of us are together or none of us are. We're going to try and I don't want any hateate between the two of you, no jealousy."

Xaden nodded, understanding evident in his eyes. "Alright, I get it. No competition, no games. Just us, together." He looked at Garrick, who gave a small, hopeful smile in return.

Garrick spoke up, his voice filled with vulnerability. "Y/n, I want to try too. I don't want to lose you or Xaden over something stupid. Can we... Can we start fresh? Rebuild our relationships and see where things go from there..."

You felt your heart swell with love and gratitude for these two incredible men standing before you, willing to put aside their differences for the sake of your relationship. "Absolutely," you replied, embracing them both once more. "Together, always."

"We should three-way kiss right now..." Garrick smirked, looking between you and Xaden.

Xaden's eyes lit up, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Sounds like a plan to me," he agreed, stepping closer to you and Garrick until the three of you were nearly touching.

Garrick leaned in first, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You melted into him, savoring the taste of your lover. At the same time, Xaden wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. His mouth found yours, the kiss deepening as the two of you explored each other's tongues.

The world spun around you, the only reality was the press of skin against skin, the mingling of breath and desire. At this moment, nothing else mattered, only the love and connection you shared with these two incredible men.

{Empyrean Taglist: @thelov3lybookworm @dee-writes-angst @lreadsstuff}

[anya-nya-nya]

NSFW themes but without detailed description of intimacy so GN! reader, mention of Aventurine’s past > mention of SA, SH, slavery

Aventurine prefers clothed sex, being almost depending wholeheartedly on your opinion about his body. There's to many echoes of his past: permanent bruises from rough ropes and shackles, small dots of burned skin from cigarettes, scars from whip or any other things he doesn't want to remember now about. Some of the welts - he couldn't remember which ones - were made by his own hands.

It's hard to say what scenario he fears the most: untamable disgust in your face that would break the last sliver of his self-esteem or the sincere worry that would probably demand explanation about how he got all of these. It would be hard to show vulnerability of his body, but to also reveal vulnerability of his soul, expanding your awareness of his background? None of his most risky bets in warm nights of Penacony gave him as much adrenaline as the possibility to be so open to you.

He craves your pity with the same fierceness he pushes it away: this feeling of being desired and wanted - truly wanted, like a person and not like a fucktoy - looks like a false hope. What if your manipulations are above his intuition level and everything would end up like usual: with Aventurine tossed aside like used trash without any worth? What if you just kill time by playing with him in a healthy relationship, just to see how deep you can dig into his heart before he would realize everything?

So for a while he would put up the same show with a jaded exterior he wore like armor. Always in a fancy suit and with a teasing joke to be more careful with it: such a luxury brand! Just another way to prevent you from undressing him and see what he's shielding so hard.

Every piece of his cloth would be a heavy step to which Aventurine would prepare for a long time. Letting you find out about small scars on his arms, inhaling every small reaction you gave him at this moment to ease his anxiety with lack of abhorrence on your face. He would let the hint hang in the air: it's nothing compared to how ugly his body actually is, sullied by a web of such prints. Next step is his shoulders, or maybe thighs: he actually would sit and muse how to better present himself to not look as broken and used as Aven thinks he looks.

Such alarming concern would pursue him to the very end, till Aventurine would stand in nothing but his aching skin in front of you. Your loving gaze never changed as he revealed more of his past and it's the main source of his courage now.

Attention and love you gave him so freely felt so undeserved yet more desirable that way. It’s overwhelming in a way jackpot couldn't ever be, more intoxicating than Sea of Soulglad: it's his own brand of drug. And for the first time Aventurine let himself be greedy.

[cherrynflowergarden]

angel baby || matt sturniolo (smut)

an; hellooo thank you sm for 50+ followers<333 i love y'all omg!! this is my first time writing a one shot and smut😥

matt thinks he just won the lottery. his beautiful, beautiful girl dressed up all for him. and only him.

after a long and tiring day spent filming for his youtube, he didn't think his day would suddenly turn good. seeing his girl friend, all dolled up in a new and pretty pastel pink colour lingerie, waiting for him, he swore he won the jackpot. all he needed now was to peacefully burry himself in her sweet little cunt.

her doe eyed almost glassy eyes made her look so innocent and naive; her actions however were totally contrasting to her looks. pulling matt inside the room she put his hand on her clothed breast urging her boyfriend to squeeze the soft muscles.

she's an angel. he thinks. groaning quietly, matt gently pushed her towards the bed. locking the door he slowly came up to her, like a predator does to it's prey.

"fuck angel, you look so pretty all dolled up for me. c'mon angel sit on my lap like the angel you are." he said as she moved to sit on his lap. grabbing her by her neck he fiercely put his lips on hers. slightly choking her with one hand, his another moved to grope her body. when he squeezed her satin covered breast a too forcefully she whined. the sound travelled straight to his dick and in a minute she was laying on the bed, under him as he left open mouthed kisses and lovebites on her skin.

"matt please, don't tease." she whined out softly which turned into a whimper when matt moved down only to lick and suck the soft skin of her thighs. he was so close to where she needed him yet so far.

"shush angel let me get the taste of those panties, yeah?" he licked a strip over her pink satin panties. as he continued licking her folds and sucking her nub over the cloth, she grew desperate and impatient. "fuc- matt please no more teasing please" whimpers leaving her mouth as he ate her out over her panties. "baby please, let me enjoy the taste" he said as divided down in her clothed pussy. "mhm mmm m-matt shit oh oh god mmm" her mouth hung open in moans as matt pushed her panties aside. running two fingers down her wetness, he spread open her folds. kissing her bare button of nerves, matt doesn't stop gulping her juices. not even for a second.

finally putting his index and middle finger in her, he moves to make out with her bundle of nerves. slightly biting and sucking her nub, while he fingers her to death? is this what heaven feels like? she thinks. however her last stroke was when matt came back to eat her out while his fingers were ripping her apart. he also caressed her clit in '8' motions with his thumb. this seemed to do it for her because she was cumming all over his hands and face with a loud moan.

"fuck angel you taste divine." he says as he 'cleans' her leaking juices and cum (making her more dirty and messy in the process.) he looks at her. fucked out expression. eyes still rolled back in pleasure. sweaty body. messy tangled hair. tits almost spilling out of her bra cups. and his favourite; panties pussed to the side while her juices leak and disappear in the sheets even after matt cleaning her mess.

he thinks he's the luckiest man on the earth. his angel looks and sounds like an absolute angel. yet the unholy things he just did with her was a proof that his angel is not so angelic. perhaps he was a devil. a devil set to ruin this angel. his animalistic ravage added to it. yet he wasn't satisfied. not yet atleast.

groping her right boob harshly, he leaned down to whisper "you already tired angel? too bad we aren't stopping till i rip this thing apart."

he ended up ripping the set apart that night. he also ended up buying a new set for her as a apology, knowing very well it will serve the same in the near future.

[vanityvixen]

Sworn to Me

Aemond Targaryen

Chapter 1

Summary: You hated Aemond with every fiber of your being. Your half-brother had done nothing but make your life a never-ending storm since being betrothed as children after he lost his eye. However, there is a thin line between loath and love.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen reader

TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic violence, murder, sexual assault, rape, domestic abuse, trauma, child death, animal cruelty, incest, manipulation, emotional abuse, mental health struggles, and sexism. Viewer discretion is advised.

Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4

Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 — Chapter 8

Chapter 9 — Chapter 10 — Chapter 11 — Chapter 12

Chapter 13 — Chapter 14 — Chapter 15 — Epilogue

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It was a quiet day in the Keep—The distant sound of servants whining about their chores and the slight beam of early morning sun greeted me as I woke from sleep. The moment I sat in front of my vanity, my lady-in-waiting, Elaine began to tend my hair.

“The day will be quite gaudy, my princess,” she announced.

“So are days before,” I replied

“This one is far more engaged than the lot, my lady. Your betrothal is to end.” She paused, “The young prince insisted on hastening the wedding, princess,” she added.

I broke my hum as the final word was uttered, hasten? What for? No explanation reaches my mind, the motive for such urgency is not apparent. What could be a possible benefit from this?

“And did the prince state his reason for such an urgent request?” I questioned.

As my question lingered in the air, a knock was heard on my door, and with an audible command in came a young squire.

“Good morrow, princess. I was sent by Prince Aemond to inform you, the prince would like you to join him for tea later this afternoon to discuss your marital situation.” The squire declared.

“Do I have to agree?”

“No, my lady but the prince is quite persistent, he would not stop till you agree.” The squire responded.

“Very well, tell him I will arrive when I am ready,” I said.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I arrived in time for our tea in the garden, and Aemond was already seated nonchalantly drinking from his cup—I was sure I was a couple of feet away, but he heard me or to be truthful I think he sensed me.

“Good afternoon, Aemond.” I greeted.

“Good Afternoon.” He simply replied with a nod.

“What is the reason for this rare invitation?” I asked as I sat on the chair in front of him.

“As you might have heard from your servant, I wish to hasten our union.” Aemond said, coldly.

“Whatever for?”

“A war is approaching dear sister, a war that you and I can benefit from, Greatly.” He spoke.

“No war will happen, Aemond. My sister is not a terror.” I exclaimed.

“Calm down, sister. Your sister won’t start the war, Alicent will.” He affirmed.

“Your mother? A servant of the Seven will start a war? I doubt that.”

“She is my grandsire’s tongue.” He said.

“And how will this war benefit us, Aemond?” I questioned.

Aemond leaned towards me from his seat, his gaze fierce.

“It will benefit me, us.” He took his cup once more. “If we win the war and Aegon rules, I will do what it takes to take the throne and you by my side.” He added.

“Your ambition is to usurp the throne?”

“I am a dragon, from a house of royalty. Do you expect me to stay put while a woman and a drunkard take our birthright?” He said as he stood up.

“Rhaenyra is the heir, it is her birthright, not yours nor mine,” I lifted myself off my chair and locked my eyes on his.

“That does not matter, she is a woman. A man will always have a better claim.” He shrugs.

“She is my sister, watch your tongue,” I warned him.

“Watch my tone?” He said, his voice almost in a mocking manner. “What would you do if I do not, princess?”

“I will not stand by as you plan to usurp my sister’s throne.”

“You do not have a choice, sister,” He reminded me of my state.

“Then I will do what it takes to stop you,” I blurted.

“You are fortunate I even thought of you to be by my side,“ He chuckled. “You are welcome to try, princess. Though I doubt you would succeed.”

After he spoke those words he sauntered away leaving me with my thoughts. I have constantly been terrified as I knew the realm would never want a woman on the throne but I had hoped their acceptance of my sister.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

short note:

Hi! I'm Vanity, a relatively new author here on Tumblr so I don't have a taglist yet but if you are interested please let me know! Thank you for reading this💘

[yandereunsolved]

What are your thoughts/headcanons for Self Aware Addam and Jacaerys? I think they are so handsome and neat, plus they seem like theyed be less of a threat, you know?

hmm...

Here's some quick thoughts on them.

Yandere self-aware Addam is less of a threat then some of the others we have covered. It also depends if we are working with his book or show counterpart (both is also an option).

Book Addam is much quieter and cunning. He is loyal to you till the very end. He won't undercut show Addam's chances, but he is jealous. Book Addam shows his self-awareness in small ways. He'll manipulate the text to sing his praises of you — and he's willing to kill anyone he isn't a fierce ally with in his word for your support. He is a subtle yandere. You won't see the bloodshed or the aftermath. The stains will still stay on the books pages till they burn to cinder.

Show Addam is more-experienced. He is older and a more viable option. (If we are going by canon book age and not aged up Book Addam then you do not want to be catching a case.) Not to mention you are able to physically see him. Show Addam is a bit more coy. His relationship with his dragon is more estranged than Book Addam's. So Seasmoke is almost more of a yandere than Show Addam is. Seasmoke is willing to show how twisted Show Addam's love for you is. Seasmoke almost doesn't listen to his rider. They know you are real and they are in their own reality. It's just that Show Addam isn't quite sure bow to grapple with these emotions yet — his dragon is more than willing to make up for that.

Yandere self-aware Jacaerys... again it depends on if we are talking book/show/or both. In the case of both — they are willing to work together, surprisingly. They are aware of your existence and their existence. They are territorial and only trust each other to protect you.

A lot more bloody than either Addams.

I have more thoughts on yandere self-aware Jacaerys. I just don't want to spoil too much. 🤫

I'll probably do headcanons for them later. It would be an interesting add on to the premise. ʚɞ

[yingdu-lover]

MDZS extras are heavenly crumbs I can NEVER get enough of. I wish one day she writes more (as she did with TGCF two years ago).

Last night, I picked MDZS volume 5 for a 'lullaby reading' (max 30 min I expected) but ended up being awake till 2 am lmao (I am a fast reader but I was annotating, commenting, musing - basically it took a lot of time). I read the Extra 4 titled Gate Crasher. In this post, I specifically want to talk about a scene I loved so much.

If you read the story you will know the full context but basically just keep in mind that Wangxian were sitting inside a room (supervising, deducting and waiting in case Sizhui needed any help) and Lan Sizhui was fighting with a fierce corpse outside. Now here is the interesting catch : by listening to Lan Sizhui's sword movements, Wei Wuxian realised he was not following pure sword techniques of the Gusu Lan clan, rather a few attacks aligned with the Yunmeng Jiang clan's swordsmanship. Both deduce that it might be Jin Ling's influence on him as the two juniors frequently went to Night Hunts together. It was of course easy for Wei Wuxian to tell but he asked Lan Wangji how he deducted the same.

Lan Wangji's answer is really impressive. He remembered Jiang swordsmanship from the (very few) sword fights he had with a rebellious guest student in Gusu (when they first met), namely Wei Wuxian over violating rules. Lan Wangji remembered that. Not only that he remembered but also he could tell it just by listening to the sword movements. The next scene is simply cinematic.

Wei Wuxian brings a candle closer to Lan Wangji to see his (probably blushing) face, Lan Wangji is alert and tries to push the candle back, grasping Wei Wuxian's hand (it proves that he indeed was blushing). The candle flame flickers and Wei Wuxian- okay let me paste the section

"...And yet you can remember the techniques and identify them from sound alone. Isn't that impressive?

As he spoke, he pushed the candle flame over to Lan Wangji in order to see if his earlobes had gone red. However, Lan Wangji saw through his wicked intent and grasped Wei Wuxian's hand, pushing the candle back toward him. The candle flame wavered like it was drunk as it was pushed to and fro, its light flickering across Wei Wuxian's smiling eyes and curved lips. The sight made Lan Wangji swallow hard.

The other extras have a bounty of explicit intimate scenes (which I love equally) but this particular scene...I can't get it off my mind. Think in terms of image, or moving image, cinema or animation. A scene of gradually shifting chiaroscuro frames and Wei Wuxian speaking in a low voice, almost whispers (because there was a third person in the room completely ignorant of their chemistry) the words in low raspy teasing voice. The bright candle. I am a sucker for a play of light and shadows which are visually very sensual itself, it leaves a long impression on your mind, and how they create multiple layers of meanings in terms of exploring the psychology of the subjects in the frame. The candle, on one hand is literally used by Wei Wuxian to expose Lan Wangji's emotions, and on the other hand it symbolises sensuality, passion and desire initiated and ignited by Wei Wuxian. This is a subtle yet tantalizing game, a sensual 'back and forth' told through flame imagery. The moment when Lan Wangji grasps Wei Wuxian's wrist in order to save himself, he actually looses. He is discovered. The candle flame reveals the intoxication of passion Lan Wangji is very poor at concealing. Lan Wangji's desire reflects in Wei Wuxian's eyes, ah the great Hanguangjun is caught red handed, and the victorious smile adorns Wei Wuxian's lips; he has successfully won the game of seduction.

I can't tell you enough how artistically brilliant and sensual this scene felt like- omg. IB extras ok but Lan Wangji grabbing Wei Wuxian's wrist in panic, that touch in desperation sends my mind elsewhere. Throughout the extras, both Wei Wuxian and us, the readers keep discovering how Lan Wangji had been obsessed with Wei Wuxian in the past in various ways. To remember an outrageous student's swordsmanship to the point of identifying its signature moves two decades later...is indeed awesome. One among a million other things I would always thank The Untamed for is portraying the homoerotically charged sword fight during the first meeting. Purely iconic. There is a sense of chase, Wei Wuxian's playful defiance is infuriating to Lan Zhan who is trying to subdue Wei Wuxian but is not able to do so. Lan Wangji is losing to Wei Wuxian till this day. The fact that the topic of sword fighting literally and metaphorically connects to this play of desire and Wei Wuxian, for the nth time, finds Lan Wangji's weak points and pulls his heartstrings as he pleases is promptimg the butterflies in my stomach to wreck a wild dance.

[rebelliousstories]

Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine SFW Alphabet

Relationship: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst

Word Count: 3,684

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Consider donating a TIP or a Kofi: Here

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Logan is a very solitary guy. He’s much more used to being on his own than with someone in any capacity. That said, I do see him as an “acts of service” kind of man. He definitely is getting you refills on your food and drink at mansion parties, and keeping an eye on the people around you. He’ll carry you to your room after a mission, or make sure that you’re not needing any medical assistance, if you are a part of the gang.

If you’re a normie, he’s holding your heels and carrying you home after a night at the bar even though he warned you not to wear them and to just go with your boots.

B = Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Sarcastic comments and playful bullying are your first love languages. I mean, people outside the friendship think you hate each other, but that’s only if they don’t look at you closer. He would always find something to tease you about, but he never let it get too mean.

If you’re an X-Men too, I believe that you guys would have been made to go on a solo mission together. You two have never been this close, so you try to pass the time, but it eventually turns into you pushing Logan’s buttons. So he gives it as good as he gets.

A normal person however, a non-mutant, I could see him just meeting you at every given chance. It’s a small town in Canada that he has decided to stay in; there’s one post office, one coffee shop, and only a couple of bars and restaurants. So yeah, he just keeps running into you, and strikes up a little conversation each time.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Oh he for sure loves to cuddle. You’re going to look at me and tell me that grumpy kitty with the fluffy hair doesn’t like to cuddle?! Oh nay, nay. This man loves it. A major reason is that he loves to make sure you’re kept happy and comfy. In Logan’s mind, the safest place you could be was in his arms.

Logan would cuddle one of two ways. He would either place you on his chest, fully laying down on him because he would love to feel your weight on him. It’s comforting to the man. Or, he would be on his side, with you in front of him. His back would be to the door, and his arms would be tucked up all around you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

This man has proved he wants to settle down. He wants to have his little cabin in the Canadian wilderness, maybe a dog, and you and some littles. Logan would want to retire from being a superhero one day. Even though he could technically live forever, he doesn’t want to spend those days fighting. He craves having a slice of the quiet life, with someone he loves.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Cold, quick, and efficient. He would not draw it out, or withdraw from you over time. Logan would either simply leave with only the necessary items while you’re asleep or away. But if you catch him leaving, he would continue barreling towards the door, successfully shaking off your hands. He would not talk more than necessary and would only leave with one final glance before stalking off into the unknown, and away from you.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Logan loves fiercely and deeply. Not even death can shake his love for you. He would learn to live with it of course, but he would still proclaim his love for you till his dying breath. He’s a committed man to those who commit to him. To be loved by the Wolverine is a blessing and a bit of a curse. That fierce kind of love always rears it ugly head in a jealous mood if he notices you getting close to someone you shouldn’t. That being said…

If you were a mutant that had a healing factor like him, I think he would want to actually get married. Full on, with a marriage certificate, a suit and gown, and a beautiful ceremony and reception on the lawn of the mansion. Beast definitely officiates the wedding, with Charles rolling with you down the aisle. Scott makes a joke about how Logan should get married in a Canadian tuxedo rather than a traditional one. That doesn’t go over well with the man who is already reigning in his nerves about the whole ordeal. Not about marrying you, but rather the fanfare of it all.

If you do not posses a healing factor in some fashion, whether you’re a mutant who doesn’t have that, or a non-mutant, I feel like he would be hesitant to marry you. Logan wouldn’t want to tie you down to someone that will inevitably outlive you. In fact, he might encourage a break up so that you can find someone to grow old with. But, if you manage to convince him to stay, he would have no hesitation about marrying you. You have a small and intimate affair, from where Logan calls in a favor from an old friend named Charles.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s the Wolverine. It’s James Logan Howlett. That man is as soft physically as concrete wall. However, he does tend to take a softer hand to you no matter what he is doing. Logan has lived with his own enhanced strength for centuries, but he is still afraid of hurting you. He would always make sure that his hands are soft on your body, and that his claws are nowhere near you.

Now, emotionally, again it’s the Wolverine people. He is a lone wolf, that doesn’t care too much for the rules of society. But, when it is just you two, he’s letting you in on his struggle on reconnecting his past or the innermost struggle of his more animalistic side. Going back to A for Affection, Logan sends you little winks and smirks from across the bar. But his smile, his genuine smile when the two of you are alone; those are what you both cherish.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He, for sure, loves to hug you close. He’s just got those big meaty hands, and those equally beefy arms that encompass you and keep you close. It’s a safe form of intimacy for him. Even if his claws were to come out accidentally, he would probably just knick himself. There would be virtually no chance of him getting you caught between them.

Logan tries to hug you whenever he’s home from missions. The first thing he does after getting home and dropping his bags in the foyer of the mansion, is to find you so he can get his hugs that are on back order. It’s something that helps ground him as much as his hugs help to ground you.

Getting a hug from Logan is the physical feeling of putting a fleece blanket hoodie on a bear statue and walking into it. He is always warm, partially because he’s a big burly man and partially because of his mutation, and he’s hairy. So if you hug him without a shirt on, be prepared. Could make a carpet out of that body hair.

I = I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?)

At least six to eight months, but more than likely a year. He’ll know right around the six month mark, but he’s not telling you at first. Logan would assume his acts of service and protection were enough to tell you that. He’s also waiting on you to gage how he feels about saying that word to you. You’ve gotta show him, and possibly tell him, you love him in order for him to reciprocate.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Logan really only gets jealous if he notices someone younger and attractive trying to chat you up. A major insecurity of his would be the age gap, and possibly you not living as long as him. If you had no regenerative healing factor, he might just quietly sulk in the corner of the bar as he watches.

If you do, however, he would be downing that beer first, and then moving. Logan’s not stupid enough to leave his drink unattended. Just because he can heal from just about anything, doesn’t mean he wants to. He’s pulling hands away and squaring off to anyone that dares try to get handsy with his girl. And you need to be prepared to calm down the feral Wolverine, and give him some reassurance once you get back to where you guys are staying.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

As I said, Logan loves fiercely and deeply. His kisses are no exception. He kisses you like it will be the last time he sees you forever. Logan aims to encapsulate you in a kiss, and it works a lot of the time.

He loves your lips, and forehead. Especially if you’re shorter than him. Lips for the obvious reason; it’s close, intimate, and he loves feeling yours against his. Now the forehead, is because that is what he can reach. When you’re tucked into his chest, he wants to be able to kiss you but for whatever reason he can’t, so he goes for your forehead. Also those forehead kisses just bathe you in a warming glow.

Logan loves to be kissed on his throat and knuckles. Now hear me out before you scroll away! His throat, because if you’re shorter than him, it always happens when he’s got you hugged close. So when he’s dropping kisses to your forehead, press a couple to his throat and he’s putty in your hands. As for his knuckles, it’s a dangerous game, but one that is born of a time of deep insecurities. When he is having doubts about himself, his choices, and his past, he likes to sit with you on the couch or bed and hold you. Logan is always worried about having you anywhere near where his claws come out of skin, but the little, feather light kisses you leave, well, they break his resolve just a bit.

L = Little Ones (How are they around children?)

I believe that it depends on the child’s age. If it’s a small baby, like less than two years old, he would be okay as long as he is not the one holding it. However, if you do manage to convince him to hold the infant, he is sitting there with the most scared expression he has ever had.

Kids that are a bit older and can handle their own he’s okay being around. Logan doesn’t mind the younger ones, like are seven or ten, but he tends to just watch them rather than get involved. Teenagers are the youngest he likes to interact with. He’s just not used to being around little ones, and he feels like he’s too old to start now.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Logan are blissfully spent. Whenever he gets the morning off from work or from the X-Men, he loves to spend it doing absolutely nothing. Slow mornings are spent lounging in bed, with nothing on your mind. He loves watching you sleep and be at peace. It’s a peace that he, himself, longs for. Logan enjoys being able to have slow mornings as it gives him a taste of a life he craves.

N = Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Evenings depend on how that day has been. If the day goes good, then you can expect a nice slow evening, with cuddles and kisses. Maybe falling asleep to an old black and white film on the tv, with you perched of his chest.

Now if he had a bad day, oh Lordy. Logan is going to be non-verbal and totally unwilling to be near you. For your own sake, he wants to keep a distance from you. He doesn’t want to hurt you physically or emotionally. Eventually, Logan will come to bed, but he does it after you have gone to sleep, because he just doesn’t want to deal with any questions. Not until the next day.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Logan would not be open to you at all. He’s a very closed off man that doesn’t let just anyone in. It would definitely come in stages. He would tell you what he could remember about his past over several months to years. And as he uncovers more of his past, Logan will come to terms with it before he ever tells you. He’s also a man of few words, so it will probably take him a while just to put it into words to tell you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I don’t think he gets angered easily so much as annoyed. It genuinely takes a lot to get him angered. And most of the time, he’s playfully annoyed at you. Like if you politely ask him for another drink, he’ll grumble about how you are perfectly capable of getting it yourself. However, getting him mad is something that takes a personal turn. If you attack his abilities, or legitimately degrade him, he’s getting righteously angry. Logan takes any purposeful attacks on him personally. And he knows you could do it after a while of dating, because he will have told you things that will push the right buttons in the right order.

Q = Quizzes (How much do they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Logan remembers everything. Losing his memory is a blessing in disguise, because now he can use that space for you. He truly loves every word you say, even if he doesn’t show it. Logan can often be perceived as disinterested in you whenever you’re talking. But this man got a small notebook to fill with random things you talk about, including your to go orders. There’s a section about favorites like food, color, or move. Another is there about dreams and plans for the future, and even random things.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Logan’s favorite memory is one random night in the dead of winter.

He returned home from a mission gone horribly wrong. Scott was pissing him off, Jean kept trying to tempt him into another relationship, and Storm was staying out of it on the flight home. Then, the actual contents of the mission. They had lost their target, gotten wrapped up in another one of the Brotherhood’s schemes, and overall got the snot kicked out of them. The team had enough that day. So getting home was of top priority.

Logan grabbed his bag and stalked off before anyone could get a word in on him. He wanted out of his suit and in his bed as of yesterday. Even he could feel the cold from the snow seeping into the mansion as they ascended. He was in his jeans and his usual jacket, but the boots caused the stairs to creak under his weight. As he came into the room, his heart skipped in his chest, and he leaned against the doorframe.

There you were, snuggled up in the blankets with his flannel wrapped around your body. You were even on his side of the bed with your face smooshed into his pillow. It made him swell with love and pride. But that stands out in his mind, because it was the first time that he had caught you like this. The TV was still on; you were trying to wait up for him. And that meant more than anything in the world. He would never tell you though, that he had caught you like that.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

I’m sorry, you do realize who we’re talking about right? Wolverine is going to be the most fiercely loyal and protective lover in the world. He will literally sniff out trouble around you, and keep you safe.

If you’re just dealing with someone who won’t take no for an answer at a bar or party, he’s putting a hand on your waist and glaring the person down. If they refuse to back down, he’s getting in their face and using his intimidation to make them. After that, claws are coming out, bub.

Now, on missions it’s a different story. He knows that you can take care of yourself, but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to keep you away from harm. But if Logan sees that you’re getting overwhelmed or in trouble, he’s on his way over as fast as lightning. He is dispatching of the enemy with fierce vengeance.

Logan wouldn’t need nor want you to protect him physically. That’s his job and he will stand by it. However protecting his mind and heart is the only job he wants you to have. By providing him shelter when his own mind betrays him, it protects him during a vulnerable time.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dates really depend. If you’re an X-Man and going on missions, your date nights and anniversaries are at the liberty of whenever you are home from missions. If you’re not, he usually has an easier time of planning things for your dates. Regardless, he will usually plan casual dates nights for the most part. Every once in a while he will take you out on the town for dinner and a movie, or a night of drinking and dancing. But most of the time, he’s just having a dinner prepped or gotten take out, and a movie pulled up on the tv.

Logan loves to silently spoil you. He will never make a huge fuss about gifts he gives you. And they’re always practical in some fashion. He gets you a new coffee mug with your favorite character on it but he’s scratched your name into the bottom so no one can take it. Or a new set of personal defense weapons that won’t trigger metal detectors but still pack a punch.

            Like I said before, his love language is acts of service. You need your car fixed? He’s got it purring like a lambo. You need laundry done? You’ve got new clothes in your dressers, plus some of his flannel and tank tops so you can have his clothes and scents around you. This lovable man will preform mundane tasks without being asks because he wants you to know he loves you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Going cold and silent for no good reason is a big one. It’s so easy for him to revert to his old ways but he does try to work on it. After a long day though, he just wants a beer and a silent, dreamless sleep. So, it’s difficult for him to open up and talk about whatever it is that’s bothering him on a day like this. Thus, leading to the withdrawal.

I feel like another would be his ability to overreact. If Scott asks you to join him on a mission, or even how one went that he wasn’t on, Logan is just about growling at the man. But anyone he views as a threat to you, he’s not liking one bit which tends to lead to the man to growling, snapping, and even the claws coming out.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Logan is not all too concerned with how he looks. He does his hair but that’s about it. Like, other than that, he just genuinely doesn’t care. This is a mutant with the ability to heal near instantly. I can’t reiterate how much he doesn’t care.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

The further you get into your relationship, the more he feels like he can’t live without you. It’s something he gets hit with all at once. It’s part of why he’s so protective over you, even if you have a healing factor. He’s terrified to lose you once he truly loves you deeply within his soul. When he can’t be near you, he’s counting down the minutes till he can remedy that. If he ever lost you, if you died or left him in some other way, there would be nothing left to keep the animal in check.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Logan loves you playing with his hair and pampering him. Does he understand the difference between a physical exfoliant and a chemical one? Absolutely not. But he loves having you use whatever it is on him. When his day is super rough, he’ll stay silent as he lets you lead him face down on the bed. Getting massages on those days are amazing because he swears that your hands can feel what is wrong and get it out. He’s letting you wash his face, put weird creams on him, all the while he’s got a fluffy headband on. And once you’re done with the skincare, the head massage that follows? Oh, he feels the stress of everything wash away. There is nothing that clears the rage and foul feelings better than a little pampering session.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I don’t know why, but he strikes me as a texture guy. Not on his skin, but in the food he eats. Like he won’t eat certain foods because they make odd textures in his mouth. He also just likes simple foods, so that could be a reason.

In a partner though, he wouldn’t appreciate someone trying to change him, or that would pry too deep. Let me explain. Logan knows what he is, a rehabilitated animal that tries to do his best. And he doesn’t want anyone else telling him that he isn’t. It’s not a matter of that he can’t shake the image that he spent so long with, but rather that he can still feel it inside his being every time those claws come out.

In that same vein, he doesn’t want someone that asks too many questions that he doesn’t have the answers to nor wants to give. If he wakes up from a nightmare where he uncovers new memories, he’ll decide in time to share that with you. You have to let him go at his own pace otherwise you’ll spook him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

On his back, straight as a board, blankets around his chest, while he’s alone. If you’re spending the night, he’ll either fall asleep with you on his chest with hm on his back, or with his back to the door and on his side with you in his arms. Also, I don’t care what anyone says, this man has the cutest baby snores ever. Sounding like a baby bear in bed and now it’s your own form of white noise. It’s so difficult for you to fall asleep without it.

[dia-oro]

Imagine linked universe

But reader when they got lost again thank to portals taking all the chain to a new Hyrule they just discover the link pre-adventure here and in matter of fact is another abandoned boy- a baby and Oh. Boy. Reader could never want a baby- they could want one day or they are in a relationship with a link and they didn't even thought of it even or are still in the beginning of a courting, but their darling reader will got feral if someone touch the baby in their hands.

Imagine time wondering if that how saria was when the kokiri take care of him as baby, sweet sweet Hyrule that was alone from the very start can't help but wonder how would have been if he have someone as reader to fight to have him in their hands and care for him in a world nobody cares.

Imagine wild having a whirlwind of emotions because while he loving the mini link that is with them in that Hyrule, the both know this can't be a forever thing and is starting also to remember his little sister so he very sensitive right now.

Sky doing music all time for the baby, deep inside full of sadness and ire for he know there's will the only harshness for that baby link.

Bros, legend is emotionally no okay, that all, you have at your imagination the why.

Wind is in his element, being big brother again but also very sad that the baby cannot stay and promise to help reader to look for a good home for the mini link.

Twilight? Big bro to- almost trying to co-parenting the baby, don't be mad if he end now always in your tent somehow as Wolfie, it's the wolf instinct to there's a pup to protect- expect him to go hunting for the chain more but first he always present the food for you before giving it to wild.

Exchanging things for milk for the baby will be priority.

Four is always very aware of where reader is, he now have three of his four braincells now just focus on the baby and reader while only one is with looking for a home for the baby, to be honest if the baby didn't have the triforce in their little hand he would silently support reader to let the baby got with them, heck he would recommend give it to malon-

warrrios know they can't take the baby with them, is saddest with the toughest act of all, remind always reader they can't take the baby with them, they have made reader cry so much the whole time in that Hyrule and it's killing him inside- he want to save that baby for what he know is a weight to great for only one part of shoulders but he know, he know they can't do it and just pray to Hylia that reader can see the perfect family for the baby.

Bonus no oficial chain

First would feel a pain deep in his soul seeing another one destine to this harsh fate with the weight of their world in their tiny shoulder but even more see something so tiny starting their life with so little kindred. He suffer for reader seeing their pain for the baby link and also respect them all the more.

Chat, age is severely saddened by this, the baby is so tiny and already all alone- like he had his sister and father but this Child? Reader till the next portal take them all- he would like to do as readers say but know destiny will no let it happened.

Fierce Deity is just a observant of all these tragedies the hero's are and still, can help but be move in reader kindred, they all are used to be so unlucky in life and reader still try and try- he surely will never forget this no matter the end.

[quiescentem-puella]

among all the panels from the soul-crushing Till's comic, I think the one that gets me the most is this one

bc...we already knew that Till was the more sensitive and emotional of the cast, but this frame really puts in perspective how he was just a kid desperately craving affection. He knew what it was like to be loved and that's what he wanted. I think Mizi, with her innocence and her detachment from reality (she was the only one unaware of what being a participant of alien stage really meant), was the closest thing he had to the time when he also was like that. When he was with Io, he had no idea about the cruelty of the aliens... he was just happy to sing and have his mom smile at him. HE WAS LIKE MIZI TOO!!! but at some point, he was torn away from his home and his innocence.

Mizi... she is the "before". When he was warm and taken care of and loved and singing didn't mean dying. Imo Mizi is very similar to child Till and that's why he longs for her with such fierce passion.

(there's also much to say about how Till only knew that love was warm and kind, while the hateful aliens were harsh and cruel... and how Ivan, unable to express love in the way Till knew and understood, ended up behaving more like the aliens than anything else, at least in till's pov. how could Till ever begin to think Ivan loved him, when he was nothing like the love he knew?)

it isn't just that Till was loved. It's that he knew he was loved and basked in that. And that stayed with him until the very end, because even if the other kids in the anakt garden called him a friendless loser...

the love his mother had for him stayed with him. forever.

[translation by WhataFruit on twitter link here]

[fanfiction4sooya]

hiii mother! i was wondering what animals you think twice would be g!p hybrids of? all i can figure out till now is sana is a puppy and nayeon is a bunny ehe

Hi luv!! Sorry for making you wait, this one was quite hard to think of but I think I finally got a conclusion!! Hope you like it 💖 (I do not write for chaeyoung)

Nayeon: Obviously a bunny. Playful, spoiled, extremely bratty and very quick to feel horny; Can go a lot of rounds without resting so you are usually the one to tap out when she gets too excited. Big dick and she knows how to use it, the most sadistic out of the other ones. Likes to make you cry while taking her in your mouth and loves seeing your cunt all red and puffy (loves slapping your pussy with her big hands)

Jeongyeon: Dog hybrid, more specifically a siberian husky. Intimidating, loud with those she trusts, very cuddly and actually very protective. A naturally jealous partner, enjoys hearing you say her name over and over when you two have sex. Doesn't hit you at all because she is way too strong for that, but she knows exactly how to fuck you to the point of you losing counsciousness (literally);

Momo: Grey wolf. Big, introverted, more of a family hybrid, takes care of her partner but doesn't like rules and is often grumpy if she isn't satisfied with something. Is the type to spend hours on end eating you out because your needs come first. Huge dick and I mean it, like 23cm. Has a size kink and will trap you under her body when she feels like fucking. Buys you new underwear every chance she gets because she often rips them;

Sana: Artic Fox. Contrary to what most people feel, she doesn't give me these puppy vibes. She is playfull at times, yes, but when she is serious? intimidating as hell. I believe she navigates easily between serious and unserious, specially because of her cute demeanor. But at the end of the day she is a hunter and she will take whatever she wants. Loves to have you ass up and face down, specially to fuck your ass and get you to cum without barely touching your pussy. Also loves cum play and will get nasty with it;

Jihyo: Lioness. You can't say that the way she acts isn't the way of a lioness!! Jihyo is the epitome of fierce and motherly (and stern too when needed). Always careful to not scratch you, loves to fuck you missionary so she can stare into your eyes while she breeds you. Actually likes to pound into you while hugging your body against hers, specially her boobs against yours. Gets hard at the most basic things such as seeing you cook and will rail you from behind when it happens;

Mina: A cat. More specifically a raggdoll cat. Very sophisticated and elegant, doesn't get loud or throw tantrums but is quite territorial and will stare down with a blank face whoever gets near you; Likes the idea of getting people nervous because of her beauty and elegant demeanor. Loves to scratch you with her fangs but is careful around your boobs so she doesn't hurt them. The only one who was open since the beggining about enjoying the idea of getting fucked in the ass with your strap (and she loves it as much as she loves fucking you with her cock). Can cum just by getting her body massaged by your experient hands;

Dahyun: Red Panda. Small and way too cute, can't seem intimidating or disobedient even if she wants to. She is classy and loves to spend time around you, specially at your feet sleeping. Unintetionally funny and charismatic. Traditional, doesn't let you get near her ass, but will sub enough to let you fuck her amazon position style and loves breeding you in this position too so she can suck you off aftweards. Really loves to be under you looking into your eyes as you clench and sink on her cock;

Tzuyu: Deer. There's no denying her that. Pretty and sophisticated like Mina, doesn't like big crowds specially if there are hybrids involved, she prefers quietly observing. Her ears are always perched up, brown and white. Is the epitome of grace, very submissive to the point of letting you make any (and I mean any) decision for her. cries if she feels overstimulated and loves to watch you ride her cock with the most adorable expression and flushed cheeks. Not usually loud, gets you crazy when you lean to kiss her while fucking yourself on her cock and she quietly whimpers " yes mommy, please"

[themanwhovibez]

Okay so TFOne has officially made me insane about D-Pax and how they're stupidly cute. Like, MAN I wanna bite their heads off in affection. But my friend @toxicityriot (:3) and me were just chatting about ideas of like, Orion wasn't the only stupid mf. D-16 definitely pulled shit that Orion would do, but likely not to the same levels of extreme like jumping roofs. One example was D-16 waking Orion up from recharge, the two huddled up on the roof as D talks in excitement about his new poems & short stories he's working on. He just couldn't wait till morning! Yet he feels a bit bad, waking up Orion, who just shrugs and says that it's fine. He's woken D up from recharge plenty of times, it's only fair and when Orion totally doesn't fall asleep against D's arm, snoring lightly, D-16 pretends to not notice as he continues on.

But, but, right, another idea was how D-16 likely stood up for Orion, even when he didn't do anything. Like we all know Darkwing is an asshole and he definitely has a grudge against Orion, so it's very possible he likes to just mess with him because of said grudge. But D-16, well he's already got anger issues and he's fiercely protective. So he stands up to Darkwing, even as Orion tries to tell him it's fine and ends up being demoted a bit or punched (likely both.) Orion feels guilty, even as D reassures him that they have each other's backs and he wasn't gonna let Darkwing to kick him around like that. Even throwing in a "I know you do dumb things-" as Orion squawks in offense, but just continues on that he doesn't deserve to be treated like that. Which, right, led me to the idea that maybe Orion wanted to find a gift for D for this. So he kept looking through the archives, wanting to find something he could bring D-16 back that he'd love and eventually, he finds a familiar lil Megatronus limited edition sticker.

[elithenium]

Jungkook x reader tropes I would love to see on Tumblr

(with moodboards)

• hey everyone!

• This is my very first post so I won't guarantee any grammatical or syntax correctness! (english is not my first language)

• If you liked any of my tropes you can use it freely (just tag me so I can read it)

• the sad thing about all of these is that I have hole ready chapters in my head but... exams

• I might also write some of them once I get the time

1.

I've been thinking about this one for over a year.! It's so well shaped in my imagination...

title ; Negotiating love

tropes ; enemies to lovers / forced proximity / we shouldn't, but...

setting ; You and Jungkook are both rising stars in the diplomatic world—brilliant, composed, and fiercely dedicated to your countries' interests. When your nations are tasked with brokering a high-stakes international treaty, the two of you are assigned as opposing lead negotiators. Sparks fly, but not the kind either of you expected.

2.

title ; Fake it till you make it out

trope ; fake dating

setting ; Jungkook, a global superstar, needs to clean up his "bad boy" image, and you—an ordinary college student—get roped into pretending to be his wholesome, loving girlfriend. The problem? You hate his music, and he loves teasing you about it.

3.

title ; "The Curse of the Muse" or "The Statue That Wept"

trope ; possession vs. freedom

setting ; Jungkook is a sculptor whose creations come to life—but each one drains his humanity. You’re his final masterpiece, carved from marble… and the only piece that refuses to animate. Until one night, you wake up—alive—and he realizes you’re not his art, but a trapped goddess

• and that's it you came to the end!

• making this reminded me of my days in Amino during covid

[yorobix]

Sweetie-pie

Phillip Graves x Baker!Reader x Russell Adler

Chapter 1: The Stranger with Shades and a Scar.

Next customer! You chirped.

It was around 3PM on a Saturday (rush hour) when you were both understaffed and overwhelmed with both takeaway orders and sit-ins. The patisserie filled with the sounds of crying children, scoffing elders and loud youngsters. You; being the positive and best with customer service took charge at the counter where you took orders from entitled parents and their embarrassed teens following in pursuit. Their faces often very red as their parents complained about their ‘iced-coffee’ being cold.

You stood there and took every undermining and backhanded comment from each and every person who sought themselves too ‘worthy’ to eat what they had ordered. You made sure to take notes on what people missed when ordering; that the hazelnut pastry did have hazelnuts in it and would not be suitable for people with hazelnut allergies (obviously) and that the VODKA profiteroles did, indeed, have alcohol in them, so; no, your 7-year old can’t have them.

But you would always be met with the saying of ‘the customer is always right’. Then why not turn a right and walk out the shop into oncoming traffic!! You would suggest silently.

A few hours later after the abuse that you underwent and the multiple spillages of coffee you were finally standing behind the counter that now had no lines, and the tables that had no people at them besides the odd student walking in to do essays and obtain Wi-Fi.

Until; the door had opened with a piercing RING from the bell. You looked up from your phone to see a man; late 40’s maybe early 50’s with a pair of shades on. But, what took your attention was the large lesion that painted his face in the shape of lightning. Like he had been gifted this battle scar from the all-mighty Zeus himself. Then you found yourself to be too infatuated in this man’s appearance. Looking away in embarrassment from staring at him. I probably look like a weirdo! You thought to yourself.

When you looked back up he was at the other side of the counter. His large stature leering over you as if he were so,e omnipotent presence admiring his creation. He had a gentle and charming smirk on his face, you couldn’t tell but if he didn’t have his shades on you’d believe he was staring directly at you. He hastily runs his hand through his blonde hair as he looks above to see the menu. You awkwardly tap your chipped fingernails against the countertop; staring at the register before you.

“S’lot of choices.” He hums, finally taking off his sun-glasses and placing them in his upper-pocket of his trench coat. He purses his lips, lost in thought. You gaze uneasily at the clock behind him; it was 5 minutes till closing time. You offer an encouraging smile, not wanting to rush him as he seemed somewhat reasonable compared to those you dealt with today. You were far too tired to deal with another unhappy customer.

“There are, is there anything you like? Flavours, textures, any favourite desserts?” You ask inquisitively. Grabbing your notebook. One thing you loved about your job was whipping up special treats for those who you believe deserved them and today; you just felt like being nice.

“I’m more of a savoury guy, sweetheart. But, I sometimes have a sweet tooth when I see something that I like.” He grins. Looking down at you writing on the pad. His brow raises.

“What’re your thoughts on pies? Like; cherry, apple, blueberry?” You question. Biting your lip gently in wonder.

He cocks his head, a smirk appearing on his face that contorts into a wide smile. His canines sharp and unforgivingly fierce. “Yeah, that’d be quite nice. One apple please, dolly.” He responded; taking out a stack of cash and counting through it thoroughly before placing a small stash before you. “Will this cover it, sweetie?” He inquired as you carefully pick it up and taking it through to the room where you place the money in at the end of each shift (to which you always convert the money from the till before the end of your shift to save time) you began counting it; 5,10,15,20,25….$50!?

You shake your head in disbelief; for a pie? He must’ve forgotten his prescribed glasses or, possibly, he wasn’t the sharpest when it came to maths; never mind, you’ll just go back through and hand it to him.

Your flats echo throughout the deadly silent hall as you make your way back through to the main entrance. Turning round the corner as you murmur “Uhm, sir, you’ve gave me too much and I don’t have enough for change….” When you were suddenly and abruptly halted from continuing your small speech as you noticed that he was gone. No sign of his presence besides the cash in your hands and one of your small napkins with the sentence— ‘put it towards my tab, I’ll be a regular from now on dollface.’

OHMYDAYZZZ..

You look down at the napkin and the pen that lay beside it. Your eyes returning to the stack of $5 bills in your hand. You can’t help the butterflies that fill your stomach with the names he gave you. Your face turning an unhealthy shade of red as you smile giddily at the small piece of paper. Picking it up carefully and folding it; placing it in your pocket and taking off your apron. Getting ready for leaving.

Little did you know he didn’t leave you; and this wasn’t the first time he had ever met you. No, gosh no. He saw you daily, your cheerful smile and welcoming attitude making his stoic nature fault momentarily. So, at 9PM every night (besides when he was away) he would ‘walk you home’ (follow behind you from further away to see sure that you were safe). With a gun in his pocket which always remained loaded and an extra pair of gloves if anything ever got messy. He would do anything for you. To make you his.

And by god was he determined.