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chubby-bun-bun · 1 month ago

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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

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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!

#ori.writes #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #love and deepspace #sylus smut

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moonreader1010 · 23 days ago

Text

How your FS will act after your first night together 💋

-by Valerie 🧿

Please pick one of the following piles:-

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3. ^

Note:- 1. Pick the pile that calls you.

2. This is an 18+ reading. Mdni

3. The pictures used don't belong to me. All rights go to the original owners.

4. Have fun 💋

Pile 1

The Eternal Dream

The morning after your first night together feels like stepping into a romantic dream they never want to end. They wake up before you, lying still, watching the rise and fall of your breath. Their heart swells as they take in the sight of you—hair tousled, your skin glowing in the golden morning light. It’s not just lust or infatuation; it’s something deeper. They reach out to softly brush a strand of hair from your face, their fingers lingering just a moment longer as if savoring your presence.

When you wake up, they greet you with a gentle, almost shy smile, their eyes holding a new softness you hadn’t seen before. “Good morning,” they murmur, their voice lower than usual, and it sends a warm shiver through you. They can’t help but pull you closer, their lips grazing your forehead. They whisper something vulnerable, like, “You’re more beautiful than I even imagined.” The intimacy feels different now—deeper, more magnetic.

As the morning progresses, they’re utterly attentive. They insist on making breakfast, but only after stealing kisses along the way. There’s a playfulness in their actions, but beneath it, a raw sincerity. Over coffee, they speak of the future in subtle ways, mentioning how they’d love to wake up like this every day or teasingly asking, “How would you feel about dogs running around the house?” Their mind races with images of shared moments—lazy mornings, cozy nights, and everything in between.

But when you least expect it, their passion flares. They lean in mid-conversation, pinning you with their gaze, and kiss you again, this time slower, deeper. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” they confess, their voice thick with emotion. They aren’t just falling—they’ve fallen, and they’ll spend the rest of the day showing you just how much.

Pile 2.

The Passionate Realist

They wake up with a fire in their chest, the events of the night before replaying vividly in their mind. For a moment, they lie still, their hand resting on your waist, feeling the warmth of your body against theirs. It’s a grounding moment, as if they’re telling themselves, This is real. This is mine. When you stir, their lips curve into a slow, devilish smile. “Good morning,” they say, their voice husky with lingering desire.

They’re not shy about their admiration. Their gaze is bold, their touch purposeful as they trail their fingers along your skin. “You’re stunning,” they murmur, their words dripping with sincerity. They kiss you again, their lips hungry yet tender, as if trying to communicate what words can’t. There’s an intensity in the air—an undeniable chemistry that leaves you both breathless.

As you pull yourself out of bed, they watch you with a smirk, leaning back on the pillows like they’re the luckiest person in the world. “Don’t get too far,” they tease, their tone light but their eyes holding a spark of mischief. Their energy is contagious.

But as the day unfolds, their deeper side emerges. They’ll sit with you, their voice steady as they speak of their dreams, their fears, and their hopes for the future. They’ll share things they haven’t told anyone before, their walls crumbling because of the trust you’ve built together. By the end of the day, they’re more certain than ever: you’re not just someone they desire. You’re someone they’re willing to build their life around.

Pile 3.

The Protective Lover

They wake up as if guarding a sacred treasure, their arms wrapped protectively around you. Their first thought is simple: I need to keep them safe. I need to make them happy. The sight of you beside them is almost too much to take in—your bare skin glowing softly in the pale light, your warmth still lingering in their embrace. They kiss the top of your head gently, as if not to wake you, their lips brushing against your hair in a gesture of quiet reverence.

When you stir, their eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. “Hey, gorgeous,” they whisper, their voice thick with emotion. They trace patterns along your shoulder, their touch slow and deliberate. They’re not just admiring you—they’re memorizing you, engraving every detail of this moment into their mind. You notice something different in their gaze, a blend of adoration and something deeper, like unspoken promises and unshakable devotion.

As the morning unfolds, they show their affection in practical yet endearing ways. They make sure you’re comfortable, fetching whatever you need before you even realize you want it. They’ll bring up little memories, like the first time they noticed your laugh or the exact moment they fell for you, weaving a thread of nostalgia into the morning. But beneath their gentle exterior lies a hint of insecurity, a fear they keep hidden. They might hesitate before speaking, their voice soft as they say, “You know you mean everything to me, right?”

Later, they’ll tease you playfully, their eyes sparkling as they suggest spending the day together doing something spontaneous, just the two of you. But as they hold you close, their touch lingers longer than usual, and you feel their need to protect this connection. They won’t say it outright, but you’ve broken down their walls, and they’re utterly, irrevocably yours.

---------

DM for paid readings 💋💋

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soobibabe · 4 months ago

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chapter one - the proposal

synopsis: Y/N, a 28-year-old dreamer whose plans for marriage and motherhood crumbled when her fiancé, Jae-on, decided to "see other people," leaving her adrift in a sea of unfulfilled expectations. Just as she’s about to face the cringe of attending his baby shower with his new girlfriend, her best friend Jungkook swoops in with a wild idea; why not embark on a platonic co-parenting adventure together?

pairings: jeon jungkook + reader genre ▸ romance [mature content in future chapters

Jungkook’s place felt like a second home to you. There was something about the way the late afternoon light filtered through his sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room, that always made you feel… safe. His apartment wasn’t anything fancy, just a cozy, lived-in space, but it was warm, inviting—everything you needed right now. You sank deeper into the couch, clutching the throw pillow to your chest, feeling its familiar softness as you stared absently at the half-finished jigsaw puzzle on his coffee table. There were still pieces scattered everywhere, a mess that neither of you seemed too bothered to clean up. It was one of those things you’d start but never quite finish—like most of your plans lately.

The sound of clinking dishes came from the kitchen as Jungkook rummaged through his cabinets. "Tea or coffee?" he called, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Tea," you answered, your voice quieter than you meant it to be. You rubbed your forehead, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you all over again.

You heard him chuckle softly. "You okay in there? You’ve been weirdly quiet since you got here."

Was it okay? Not really. But you didn’t want to say that out loud just yet. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just... thinking."

"Thinking doesn’t look good on you," he teased as he stepped back into the living room, carrying two steaming mugs. He handed you one, sitting down next to you on the couch, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "Talk to me."

You took the mug from him, warming your hands on the ceramic before exhaling a long sigh. "It’s Jae-on."

There it was. His name, still bitter on your tongue, even after all this time. It had been over a year since Jae-on called off the engagement. A year and a half, actually, but who was counting? You, apparently. You hated that you were still thinking about him, that he still had some kind of hold over you, even though you both moved on.

Jungkook gave you a knowing look, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he turned slightly to face you. "What’s he done now?"

You hesitated, feeling the familiar knot of frustration and resentment tightening in your chest. "He’s... getting married."

Jungkook didn’t blink. "I see." His voice was calm, measured, like he was processing it carefully.

"And not just that," you continued, your fingers tightening around the mug. "They’re having a baby. Jae-on and Garam."

You said her name like it was a bad word, which, in your mind, it was. Garam. The girl from high school who always seemed to have her life together, who always got what she wanted, and apparently now, that included your ex-fiancé.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. "Yu Garam? The one who used to follow you around like a puppy?"

"The very one." You groaned, sinking further into the couch. "Can you believe it? They’re throwing a baby shower, and guess who’s invited."

His expression softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "You don’t have to go, you know."

"I know." You stared down into your tea, swirling it absently. "But part of me feels like... I should. Like I have something to prove."

"To Jae-on?"

"To myself, I guess." The words came out slower than you expected, as if you were admitting it for the first time. "I thought I’d have it all by now, you know? The husband, the kids, the house with the white picket fence. And instead, I’m sitting here... single. Childless. Invited to my ex’s baby shower." You let out a humorless laugh. "It’s ridiculous."

Jungkook was quiet for a moment, just watching you. His presence, as always, was steady, grounding. "It’s not ridiculous, Y/N. You had a plan. It just... didn’t go the way you thought."

You shook your head. "My plan’s been wrecked, Kook. Nothing’s gone the way I wanted it to."

"That doesn’t mean you can’t still have what you want," he said, his tone thoughtful. There was something about the way he said it, though, that made you glance at him, catching a glint of something unfamiliar in his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated, like he was weighing his words carefully. "You want kids, right? You’ve always wanted to be a mom."

"Yeah... obviously." You frowned slightly. "But that’s not happening anytime soon."

"Why not?"

You blinked, unsure where this was going. "Because... I’m single? You kind of need someone to make that happen, Kook."

He shifted on the couch, leaning forward a little, his arm brushing against yours. The closeness felt... different. Warmer. He was looking at you in a way you couldn’t quite place, a softness to his gaze that made your stomach flip.

"You don’t need someone else," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You have me."

You froze, your mind trying to catch up to what he was saying. "Wait... what?"

Jungkook smiled, a small, almost shy smile, which was so unlike him it threw you off balance. "I’m serious. You want a baby, right? Why not do it together?"

You stared at him, your heart suddenly beating louder in your ears. "Together? Like... us?"

"Yeah." His eyes were steady, sincere. "We’ve known each other for years. We’d make great parents. We don’t need to complicate things with romance or any of that. We could just... raise a kid together. Be a family."

For a second, you didn’t know what to say. The idea was... insane. Wasn’t it? And yet, as he sat there, his expression so earnest, so serious, you found yourself... considering it.

"But, Kook," you started, your voice shaky, "this is huge. I mean... having a baby? That’s not something you just... do."

"I know," he said, his voice still soft, his eyes never leaving yours. "But you’re my best friend. I’d be with you every step of the way. You wouldn’t have to do it alone."

Your mind was spinning. This was Jungkook. Your best friend. The one person who had been there for you through everything, and now... he was offering you something you hadn’t even thought was possible. A way to have the family you wanted without waiting for someone else to come along.

But was it really that simple?

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. You glanced down and saw the email notification. You already knew who it was from.

"Baby shower," you muttered, picking up the phone and showing him the screen. "Jae-on and Yu Garam are sending invites."

Jungkook’s eyes darkened slightly as he looked at the email, then back at you. "Well," he said, his voice lower now, "maybe when we go, we’ll have our own announcement to make."

You blinked, your heart jumping at the sudden shift in his tone. Was he... serious?

"You really mean that?" you whispered, searching his face for any sign that he might be joking.

But his expression was calm, sure, and when he spoke again, his voice was firm. "I’m dead serious, Y/N."

The air between you felt different now—heavier, charged with something you couldn’t quite name. This was Jungkook, your best friend. The person you trusted most in the world. And yet, here you were, teetering on the edge of something that could change everything.

"Think about it," he said softly, leaning just a little closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "It could be exactly what you need."

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#jungkook #kpop #bts #bts smut #bangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #kpop smut #jungkook fluff #jjk #best friends to lovers #fake dating #army

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amiableness · 7 months ago

Note

i had another idea for dad!james. who sometimes has to work late and reader helps take care of henry. he comes home and sees her reading henry a story before bed. he’s just heart eyes the whole time 🤎

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1125 words

series masterlist ; main masterlist

By the time James gets home, he’s exhausted. He didn’t plan to be this late, but sometimes his job demands it. He feels fortunate that you’re the one watching Henry tonight. If it had been the babysitter, she would have told him “tough luck” and left, as she never likes staying late when James’s work keeps him beyond schedule. He understands her frustration; it’s not fair to expect her to stay late without notice. But coming home to you and Henry is always a comfort.

He longs to kick off his shoes by the door, savoring the relief of stretching his toes. A hot shower to wash away the stress and changing into his cozy sweats are next on his list. Yet, more than anything, he looks forward to seeing his two favorite people: Henry, with his innocent, sleepy smile, and you, with your warm, comforting presence.

You truly embody comfort for him.

James will never admit it, but the nights you watch Henry while he works late are his favorite. Dinner is always kept warm for him in the oven, filling the kitchen with a delicious, welcoming aroma. The lamps he never uses are on because you insist they make the house cozier, casting a soft, inviting glow over the living room. And seeing your jacket and shoes tucked right next to his and Henry’s is one of his favorite sights—a simple yet profound reminder of home.

You take care of the little things that mean so much, like tidying up Henry’s toys and leaving a packed lunch for James in the fridge for the next day. Those lunches are the only ones he looks forward to, knowing that if he makes them himself, they’ll just be leftovers from Henry’s daycare lunches. You never prepare Henry’s lunches, understanding how much James values the tradition of leaving him a note. Although Henry can’t read it yet, Hilary at daycare always makes sure to read it to him.

The moment he opens the front door, a lovesick smile spreads across his face. There, by the door, are your coat and boots—essential for braving the London winter. As he steps inside, the familiar aroma of his favorite pasta dish fills the air, welcoming him home.

He locks the door behind him and sets his belongings down near the entryway. The house is neat and quiet, with the lamps providing a softer, more pleasant light than the harsh overheads. The faint aroma of pasta still lingers, adding to the relaxed atmosphere. He’s pretty sure the house never smells this good after he makes dinner.

As he heads up the stairs, he hears your voice animatedly reading Henry a bedtime story. Every now and then, Henry’s giggles punctuate the scene, and James imagines the dramatic pauses you take, flashing playful glances at him. He moves quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but he wants to take a moment to savor the sight of you reading to his son. The feeling he gets seeing you with Henry is something he knows he might never experience with anyone else.

He knows that someday things will change. You’ll find someone else, fall in love, and soon you won’t have the time to spend evenings at his house reading to his son. The thought of that future makes James feel uneasy.

For now, he leans quietly against the doorframe of Henry’s room, watching as you recline against the headboard of Henry’s small toddler bed, with Henry snuggled up next to you. Your hair is swept back, and you’re wearing a pair of sleep shorts that are a size too small, which always drives James a little crazy. He suppresses a smile when he notices you’re wearing one of his shirts—probably another forgotten piece from your own wardrobe. It happens often, but James remains oblivious to the fact that it might be intentional.

Henry’s head rests gently on the side of your upper stomach, his little hand clutching his stuffed dragon tightly to his chest. His brows are furrowed in deep concentration, and James can see the joy in his son’s eyes as he listens intently to the story. The soft glow from the bedside lamp washes over both of you: Henry’s tiny form curled up against you, his breaths steady and rhythmic, and you, fully immersed in the book, your voice animated and soothing.

James adjusts his glasses slightly, trying to avoid interrupting the moment. But as he moves, Henry’s gaze shoots up, and his face instantly lights up with a wide grin. “Daddy!” he exclaims with a burst of excitement, his voice filled with pure joy.

“That does look a bit like Daddy, doesn’t it?” you say, tilting your head as you examine the book with a playful grin.

“What does, darling?” James asks as he steps into the room, his voice warm but tinged with curiosity. He gives up trying to stay inconspicuous once Henry spots him. Your eyes widen in surprise, your expression shifting from surprise to a hint of embarrassment as you look up. The soft light from the bedside lamp illuminates your face, revealing the genuine shock.

“Jamie! You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you two might be asleep, so I tried to come in quietly.” It’s a half-truth, but you don’t press the matter.

“I suppose it’s getting a bit late, isn’t it?” You glance at the clock and wince. “Let’s finish this page and then get some rest, okay?”

“Daddy, you listen too.” Henry’s tiny hand reaches out and pats the bed, his eyes shining with anticipation. James fights back a grin, recognizing the familiar gesture. Whenever you want James or Henry to sit beside you, you pat the spot next to you just like that.

“There isn’t much room, buddy,” James says gently. Henry’s face falls into a small frown, clearly disappointed.

“You hold darling, like she holds me.” Henry pouts, and James knows he’s about to get what he wants in the most endearing way only a three-year-old can manage. “Darling”—the nickname James has always used for you and that Henry now affectionately calls you too.

James’s eyes flicker to yours, and you shrug with a smile, adjusting Henry in your arms to make space for him. As James shifts onto the too-small bed, his heart pounds with affection. You lean back against his chest, sending him a soft, reassuring smile over your shoulder.

The simple gesture nearly causes him to go into cardiac arrest.

Henry lets out a joyful giggle before snatching the book from your hands and starting to “read” it on his own. James glances down at the illustration of the friendly brown bear wearing wire-rimmed glasses, holding its cub close, and snorts softly.

So that’s how you see him.

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

#dad!james and bsf!reader universe #dad!james potter x reader #dad!james potter #james potter headcanon #james potter fic #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter baby blurb #james potter blurb #the marauders era #marauders fic

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justvoidsdumbstuff1 · 4 months ago

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I'd like some hot coco

#mlp #mlp g4 #thorax x sunburst #gay uncles to Cozy #mlp headcanon #future generation #reforming an evil child #yeagh #artist on tumblr #Cozy Glow #Sunburts #Thorax #married horse and horse bug #bedtime #Bluey Plushie #gay uncles #damn I drew Cozy's uncles but not her parents yet #old yaoi

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goldsainz · 1 month ago

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# CS55 — MORNING CHAOS !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ mornings are never calm with a toddler in the house.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ pure fluff.

003. NOTE !

✯ i am heavily pushing my boy dad carlos agenda. requests are open so if you’d like to read more things like this with carlos or other drivers, now’s the time to request!

word count : 515

The early sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the cozy bedroom. Carlos stirred first, instinctively reaching out for you. His arm found your waist, pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck, his morning stubble brushing your skin.

“Buenos días, mi amor,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

Before you could respond, a high-pitched giggle echoed from the baby monitor on the nightstand.

“¡Papá! ¡Mamá!” Your son whined, “Wake up!”

Carlos groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Tomás is up,” he muttered, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his feigned annoyance.

“Your son,” you teased, rolling out of bed.

Carlos smirked, throwing the covers off. “He only becomes my son when he’s waking us up at seven on a Sunday?”

The two of you made your way to Tomás’ room, the sight inside melting both of your hearts. Your two-year-old was standing in his crib, his brown curls tousled and his cheeks rosy. He grinned at the sight of you and Carlos, bouncing on his tiny feet.

“Mamá, Papá, look!” he exclaimed, holding up a stuffed lion. “Leo woke up, too!”

Carlos chuckled, scooping Tomás into his arms. “Leo woke up, huh? Did he have sweet dreams?”

Tomás nodded enthusiastically, wrapping his small arms around Carlos’ neck. “¡Sí! He dreamed about racing cars like Papá!”

You laughed as Carlos’ chest puffed up in pride. “Ah, a future champion, just like me.”

“Let’s see if this future champion wants breakfast,” you said, ruffling Tomás’ curls.

In the kitchen, the usual morning chaos began. Carlos balanced Tomás on his hip while trying to pour coffee, resulting in a near spill. “Careful, Carlos!" you called, setting out Tomás a plate of scrambled eggs and fruit.

“Daddy’s silly,” Tomás giggled, pointing at the coffee dripping down the counter.

Carlos grinned, wiping the mess with a towel. “Silly, huh? Says the boy who tried to feed Leo cereal yesterday.”

Tomás pouted. “Leo was hungry!”

You stifled a laugh, exchanging a look with Carlos. His brown eyes sparkled with amusement, the corners crinkling as he smiled at you.

After breakfast, Carlos helped Tomás with his shoes while you cleaned up. The sight of them together—Carlos kneeling on the floor, patiently tying Tomás’s tiny sneakers while the toddler chattered away—filled your heart with warmth.

“Papá, can we go vroom-vroom outside?” Tomás asked, mimicking the sound of a race car.

Carlos grinned, lifting Tomás into the air. “Of course, campeón. Let’s race in the garden.”

As they headed to the backyard, you grabbed your coffee and leaned against the doorframe, watching them play. Carlos chased Tomás around the garden, both of them laughing uncontrollably.

In moments like these, life felt perfect. Your little family, full of love and joy, was everything you’d ever dreamed of.

“Te amo,” Carlos called out, catching your eye as he swung Tomás into his arms.

“I love you too,” you replied softly, your heart full.

And as Tomás’ laughter rang out, you couldn’t help but think that mornings like these were the best kind of chaos.

#*ੈ✩༄ my works !#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fanfiction #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz imagine #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic

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queenofwands89 · 7 months ago

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Stolen Hearts and Cuddles

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

Summary: While cuddling, Jake tells Y/N that she made him believe in love at first sight.

Warning: Tooth rotting fluff.

Notes: Hello, this is my first Jake fic. I just watched twisters with my family last week, and it got me back in my Glen Powell feels (Always been down bad for him the movie just reignited that spark lmao), so yeah I hope you enjoy byeeee.

The sun has set, and the soft glow from the table lamp casts a warm, cozy light across the living room. You’re nestled together on the plush leather couch, your head resting on Jake's chest as you listen to the gentle hum of the city outside your window. The faint aroma of popcorn lingers in the air, remnants of your impromptu movie night.

Jake's arm is draped protectively around you, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on your shoulder. You find solace in these moments – the simplicity of being close to him, away from the chaos of the naval base and the pressure of his duties as a aviator.

“Y’know,” Jake's voice breaks the comfortable silence, a confident lilt even in his softer moments, “I used to think love at first sight was just a myth. A fairytale people tell themselves to make life seem a little more magical.”

Tilting your head slightly, you look up at him, your curious eyes meeting his green, mischievous yet earnest gaze. “Oh really?” you tease, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “The great Lieutenant Jake Seresin, charmer extraordinaire, didn’t believe in love?”

A chuckle rumbles from his chest, making you vibrate with the sound. “Hard to believe, huh?” he smirks. “But yeah, I was always about the next mission, the next challenge. Love seemed like a distraction.”

Your fingers play with the hem of his navy blue T-shirt, your touch sending electric shivers down his spine. “So, what changed?” you ask softly, genuinely intrigued.

Jake’s expression softens, the cockiness melting away to reveal the depth of his feelings. He gently cups your face with his hand, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You,” he says simply. “You changed everything.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against your skin. “How?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Jake’s eyes lock with yours, reflecting a sincerity that’s often hidden behind his confident exterior. “The first time I saw you, it felt like someone had flipped a switch inside me. Suddenly, life wasn't just about flying high and chasing adrenaline. It was about finding a way to keep you by my side, to protect you, to love you.”

He takes a deep breath, as if steadying himself to say something deeply personal. “You didn’t just capture my attention, Y/N. You stole my heart. Completely and irrevocably. And for the first time, I realized that love isn’t a distraction. It’s what makes all the risks worth taking.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, your emotions welling up at his heartfelt confession. “Jake…” you begin, but he gently hushes you, his gaze soft yet intense.

“I’m serious, Y/N. You’re my everything. My whole world. The one I’d sacrifice everything for,” he continues, his voice filled with unwavering conviction. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as your lips meet in a tender, passionate kiss. Each touch, each breath seems to reaffirm your bond, a silent promise of the future you will build together.

When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, your heart racing. “I love you, Jake. More than words can say.”

“I love you more baby,” he replies, his voice a soft murmur in the intimate space you share. “More than you could ever know.”

You settle back into his comfortable embrace, the weight of the world outside disappearing as you lose yourself in each other. In that moment, in the safety of your love, you find a tranquility you have never known before.

As you drift off to sleep, the world outside continues to spin, but for you and Jake, your universe is right there on that couch – wrapped in each other's arms, in a cocoon of stolen hearts and unyielding love.

#jake seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x you #tgm #top gun #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin imagine #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #glen powell #glen powell fanfic

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youreverydayfangirl · 3 months ago

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DRESS

pairing: max verstappen x singer reader

summary: the one where she admits her feelings, he buys her dinner and they talk about the future

warning: nothing

a/n: hey guyssss

face claim: sabrina carpenter

f1 masterlist

main masterilst

series masterlist

y/nsprivate has posted

liked by jimmyandsassysdad, thatoneartgirlalex and 20 others

y/nsprivate this dress

jimmyandsassysdad this dress>>>

-> y/nsprivate 🤭

alexandrasaintmleux TOLD YOU HE'D LIKE IT

-> y/nsprivate yes he did

leosfather please refrain from posting stuff like this on the internet

-> y/nsprivate NO

-> leosfather 😱😱

itssabrinaaa YUMM YUMMM

-> y/nsprivate ❤️

-----

The evening air was cool as Y/n stepped out of the bathroom, the soft glow of the bathroom light spilling into the Max's dimly lit bedroom. As she emerged, she noticed the way Max was standing by the window, a slight frown creasing his brow as he checked his watch. He wore a fitted blazer over a crisp white shirt. As soon as he turned around to look at her, his expression shifted, his mouth falling open slightly in surprise.

“Y/n…” he breathed, momentarily speechless.

“You look incredible,” he finally managed, shaking his head in disbelief. A wide smile spread across his face, lighting up his green eyes. “Like, wow.”

As they stepped out of the hotel, the city buzzed with energy around them. They made their way to the theater, where Max had organized tickets to see a ballet. Max kept glancing at Y/n when he thought she wasn’t looking.

As they sat down in their seats in their private booth, took a longer second to admire his girlfriend. Y/n felt a flutter of excitement flitter in her stomach as the curtains rose, a bright smile adorning her face.

About halfway through the ballet, Y/n felt a large hand grip her thigh possessively as max pulled the girl as close to him as possible in their individual seats.

As they walked to the restaurant for their private dinner, Max wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. The warmth of his body against hers sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach, the intimacy of the moment making her heart race.

When they arrived at the restaurant, a cozy, upscale spot with low lighting and a romantic ambiance, Max led her to a private booth tucked away from the main dining area.

As their dinner continued, the conversation took on a deeper tone, with laughter slowly giving way to a more intimate atmosphere. Max leaned closer, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes fixed on Y/n with an intensity that made her heart race.

“You know,” he began, a playful grin still lingering on his lips, “I’ve been thinking a lot since that night I told you I loved you.” He paused, searching her face for a reaction. “I meant it, Y/n. You really do mean a lot to me.”

Y/n felt her breath catch in her throat. The memory of that night flooded back—the way she had frozen, the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed her. She had spent weeks grappling with her feelings, but now, sitting across from him, surrounded by candlelight and the soft murmur of other diners, everything felt clearer.

“Max…” she started, her voice trembling slightly. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I’ve been thinking, too.”

His gaze sharpened, a flicker of hope crossing his features. “Yeah?”

“I was scared after everything that happened with Lando,” she admitted, her heart racing. “I didn’t know how to handle my feelings for you, and I panicked.” She looked down at her hands, fidgeting nervously. “But the truth is, I love you, too.”

The confession hung in the air, the weight of it settling between them. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of how he felt.

Max’s expression shifted, surprise giving way to a radiant smile that lit up his face. “You mean it?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice, as if he wanted to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“I do,” she said, her own smile breaking through her nervousness. “You’ve shown me a side of love that I thought I couldn’t feel again. With you, I feel safe, and I want to embrace that.”

Max reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “Y/n, that means everything to me. I’ve been waiting to hear you say those words.” His thumb brushed against her knuckles, sending a shiver of warmth through her.

“I’m sorry I took so long to say it,” she continued, her voice softening. “I was just scared. But you’ve been patient and understanding, and I appreciate that more than you know.”

“Hey,” he said, his tone earnest. “I would wait forever for you. I just want to make you happy.”

Y/n’s heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around her like a warm embrace. “You already do,” she replied, her eyes glistening with emotion.

He leaned over to cup her face, stroking her cheek softly before planting his lips against hers. Y/n had kissed Max many times, but never like this. There was so much passion mixed with pent up frustration that had been building between them. Each movement felt electric, as if the world around them had faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own universe.

As he pulled away, his breath mingling with hers, Max leaned in closer, whispering in her ear, “You look so good tonight, liefde.” The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine, and she could feel her cheeks flush under his gaze.

“Yeah?” she questioned, unable to hide her smile.

He hummed in response, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s get out of here then.”

--------------------------------

y/nsprivate has posted

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y/nsprivate he took my on his yacht 😳

thatoneartgirlalex GET THAT RICH D

-> y/nsprivate maybe try to control yourself (BET)

keekslikestospammmm a HUGE upgrade tbh

-> y/nsprivate STOPPP

keekslikestospammmm wow i get pierre and charles erasure but we were their too 😒

-> y/nsprivate IM SORRY BUT YOU GOTTA DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO

livbereallydumb if your happy im happy

-> y/nsprivate really happy tbh

jimmyandsassysdad hes a really luck man

-> y/nsprivate stop your too cute

-> jimmyandsassysdad one of us has the good looks in this relationship and its not me ;)

----------------------------

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the calm waters as the yacht gently swayed with the waves. Y/n leaned against the railing, a soft breeze tousling her hair as she took in the breathtaking view. The sound of laughter echoed behind her, where Max was playfully arguing with Pierre about whose turn it was to pick the music. Y/n smiled happily, closing her eyes to breath in the smell of salt.

Max sauntered over, a wide grin on his face as he held two glasses of sparkling water, handing one to her. “Thought you might need a refresher,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve been staring out at the sunset for too long.”

Y/n laughed, taking a sip. “Just taking it all in. It’s beautiful here.”

“It is,” he agreed, leaning beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers. “But it’s even better with you.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she turned to meet his gaze. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” He paused, taking a deep breath, his expression shifting slightly. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Y/n felt a rush of curiosity and anxiety. “What is it?”

Max shifted his weight, a more serious look crossing his face. “I know things have been moving fast between us, but I can’t help but think about how much I want you in my life. Not just for the moment, but for the long haul.” He paused, gauging her reaction. “I want you to move in with me.”

The words hung in the air, and Y/n felt her breath catch in her throat. “Move in with you?” she echoed, her heart racing.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steady but laced with a hint of vulnerability. “I know it sounds sudden, but I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I want to wake up next to you every day and share those little moments together.”

“Max, that’s a big step,” she said softly, searching his eyes for reassurance. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Y/n,” he said, his tone earnest. “I’m not saying it will be perfect. But I believe in us. I want to face the ups and downs together, not apart. I can’t promise it’ll always be easy, but I want to try.”

Her heart swelled at his sincerity. She could see the hope in his eyes, the genuine desire for a future together. “I want that too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m scared.”

“I get that,” Max said, reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers. “But think about it this way: moving in together means we’re building something, creating a space that’s just ours. I want to be there for you, to support you in every way I can.”

Y/n took a moment to process his words, a warmth spreading through her as she realized how much she wanted this too. “Okay,” she finally said, a smile breaking across her face. “Let’s do it.”

----------------------

y/nsprivate has posted

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y/nsprivate move in day ft a new addition to our family ❤️

jimmyandsassysdad 🖤🖤🖤

-> y/nsprivate 😭😭

thatoneartgirlalex MY LITTLE BABIES ALL GROWN UP

-> y/nsprivate atleast now we live like two streets apart 🤭

itssabrinaaaa PLUTO OMG SHES SO CUTE

-> y/nsprivate MY BABY

leosfather hes alright i guess

-> y/nsprivate stop pretending your not inlove with him charlie

ExBsf the copycat?

Drama has come during the off season when fans have noticed some similarities between Exbsf and Lando Norris ex girlfriend Y/n L/n. L/N and Norris broke up after a phone call between Exbsf and L/n was leaked and it was confessed that L/n cheated on her partner.

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE

comments:

user1 FINALLY! shes been so shady omg

user2 nah thats like fully copying not just 'similarities'

user3 but like now that this is out can we talk about how weird the timing of everything has been

-> user4 real cause an alleged phone call between exbsf and y/n was leaked and then she gets with lando like two weeks later. like what?

user5 honestly exbsf is giving the snake in this situation

-----------------------------

guys im actually dying atm im so sick

im trying to stick to the schedule but idk at this poinnttt

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#f1 fluff #f1 series #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen #f1 masterlist #max verstappen fic #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #reputation series #repuation

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we-are-maladaptive · 9 months ago

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little dreamer ♡

contents: fluffy stuff, a little bit a children mentioned characters: katsuki bakugou, izuku midoriya, shouto todoroki, denki kaminari, eijirou kirishima (separate) authors note: hello (╥﹏╥) very sorry for being inactive recently!! my mother's ex boyfriend is in jail for attempted homocide and ive been helping her get it together since then ( not even kidding ) so therefore here is a hello present from me as an apology ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Husband Katsuki, who sits with you on the porch swing in the late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the yard. The scent of jasmine fills the air, mingling with the sound of distant laughter from children playing nearby. He wraps a cozy blanket around your shoulders, pulling you close as the evening chill begins to set in. You sip on hot cocoa, marshmallows melting into sweet swirls, and talk about the little moments that made your day special. His arm around you feels like the safest place in the world, and as the first stars begin to appear in the twilight sky, he softly hums a tune that makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the universe.

Husband Izuku, who wakes you gently on lazy Sunday mornings with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of birds singing outside your window. He brings you breakfast in bed, a tray laden with your favorite pastries, fruits, and a delicate vase holding a single rose. As you share bites of buttery croissant and sip on coffee, you talk about dreams you had the night before and make plans for the day ahead. His fingers trace patterns on your arm as he listens, his eyes full of a love that makes you feel cherished and safe. Later, you both linger in bed, wrapped in the warmth of the morning sun and each other’s embrace, content to let the world outside fade away.

Husband Shouto, who takes you on evening walks along the beach, where the sky blazes with the colors of the setting sun, painting the waves with hues of orange and pink. As you stroll hand in hand, you collect smooth pebbles and seashells, giggling like children whenever you find a particularly beautiful one. You sit together on the sand, watching as the stars begin to twinkle into existence, and he wraps a blanket around your shoulders to keep you warm. His voice is soft and tender as he whispers stories of your future, of a house by the sea and children who run along the shore, their laughter mingling with the sound of the waves. You lean into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart and the promise of a lifetime of such evenings together.

Husband Denki, who plans a cozy movie night at home, the living room transformed into a haven of comfort with soft pillows and warm blankets scattered everywhere. He dims the lights and lights a few scented candles, their flickering flames casting a soft glow. You snuggle together on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn and exchanging quiet laughter over inside jokes. As the movie plays, he holds you close, his fingers gently stroking your hair. The outside world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. When the credits roll, you find yourselves talking late into the night, about anything and everything, his voice a soothing melody that lulls you into a peaceful sleep, your head resting on his shoulder.

Husband Eijirou, who dances with you in the living room, the only light coming from the flickering flames in the fireplace, casting a golden glow over everything. The soft strains of a love song fill the room, and he holds you close, your feet moving in a slow, gentle rhythm. His hand rests on the small of your back, and you feel the warmth of his touch seep through your clothes. As the song ends, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache with love. He presses a kiss to your forehead, murmuring words of devotion, and you know in that moment that this is where you belong—dancing in his arms, forever and always.

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glowettee · 22 days ago

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the real secret to self-improvement no one talks about

hi lovelies, it's mindy

self-improvement isn’t just about perfect morning routines or buying cute stationery. while those things are fun, they’re only surface-level. real self-improvement goes deeper. it’s about creating meaningful, lasting change in your life. if you’re tired of the same recycled advice and want to level up in a way that sticks, this post is for you.

✨ 1. repair before you upgrade

you can’t build a glow-up on a broken foundation. most people dive straight into new habits and routines without addressing the things holding them back. maybe it’s overthinking, procrastination, or negative self-talk. whatever it is, fixing those cracks first will make everything else easier.

actionable tip: spend time journaling or reflecting on the things that sabotage your progress. ask yourself:

what’s draining my energy?

what beliefs are holding me back?

what habits do I need to stop?

self-awareness is the first step to meaningful change.

✨ 2. curate your inner aesthetic

we talk so much about physical aesthetics; outfits, skincare, room decor. but what about your mental aesthetic? your inner world is just as important as what’s on the outside.

ask yourself: is my mind calm and confident, or is it cluttered with negativity and self-doubt? start curating your mental space like you’d curate your pinterest boards.

unfollow people who drain you.

limit scrolling and spend time doing things that actually bring you joy.

romanticize stillness, it doesn't matter if it’s taking a slow walk, reading, or just lying in bed and thinking about life.

actionable tip: create a mental vision board. write down three feelings you want to embody (e.g., peace, gratitude, confidence) and focus on habits that help you get there.

✨ 3. think small to go big

one of the biggest mistakes in self-improvement is focusing on huge, intimidating goals. instead, start with micro-challenges, small, manageable steps that feel fun and doable.

for example:

instead of aiming to wake up at 5 a.m., try waking up 15 minutes earlier for a week.

don’t overhaul your diet overnight; start by drinking one extra glass of water daily.

tiny wins build momentum, and that momentum keeps you going.

actionable tip: pick one micro-challenge to start this week. it could be as simple as organizing your desk or texting a friend you’ve been meaning to reconnect with. small changes lead to big transformations.

✨ 4. audit your environment

your environment shapes your energy. if your space is cluttered, your mind will feel the same. start by decluttering one area of your life.

but don’t stop at physical spaces. think about the people you surround yourself with too. are they uplifting and inspiring, or are they draining your energy? leveling up sometimes means letting go of what doesn’t align with your future self.

actionable tip: dedicate one day this week to an “environment refresh.” declutter one physical space and evaluate one relationship. ask yourself: does this align with the person i want to become?

✨ 5. embrace your soft power

self-improvement doesn’t have to be intense or overwhelming. there’s strength in soft, intentional growth. it’s not about becoming someone else; it’s about becoming the best version of you.

romanticize your growth. make it feel special:

play calming music while you clean your room.

use a pretty notebook for your to-do lists.

light a candle before you start studying.

the more enjoyable your journey feels, the more likely you are to stick with it.

actionable tip: turn self-improvement into a ritual. add little touches that make the process feel fun and cozy, like wearing your favorite outfit while journaling or drinking tea while planning your week.

✨ key takeaways

real self-improvement isn’t about quick fixes or following trends. it’s about improving yourself in small steps that align with YOUR path.

hopefully this post helped you all

<3 mindy.

#selfimprovement #glowup #personaldevelopment #mentalhealth #productivity #selfcare #romanticizeyourlife #girlblogger #self improvement #life improvement #best self #dream girl #girl blogger #that girl #becoming that girl #glowettee

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callsigns-haze · 6 months ago

Note

Could we have a part 2 of little chaser?

Little baby entrance chase

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler and Y/n welcome their newborn daughter, Hazel Grace, into the world, embracing the overwhelming love and joy of becoming parents as they begin their new journey as a family.

Chapter contains detailed descriptions of childbirth and intense emotional moments.

The evening air was cool, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves outside as Y/n and Tyler settled into their cozy living room. The house was dimly lit, the soft glow of lamps casting a warm, golden hue across the room. It was a peaceful night, one of the last calm moments they’d share before their lives would change forever.

Y/n sat on the couch, her swollen belly a comforting weight as she absentmindedly rubbed small circles over it. She was nine months pregnant, and the anticipation of their baby’s arrival was almost too much to bear. Each day seemed longer than the last as they awaited the moment when their little one would decide to make an entrance into the world.

Tyler, ever attentive, was by her side in an instant. He brought over a cup of herbal tea, carefully chosen to help soothe and relax her. "How are you feeling, babe?" he asked, his voice gentle as he handed her the warm cup.

Y/n smiled up at him, her eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and excitement. "I’m okay," she said, though her tone was weary. "Just tired. The baby’s been moving around a lot today."

Tyler’s eyes softened as he reached out to place his hand over hers on her belly. He could feel their baby’s movements, the little kicks and shifts that had become such a familiar sensation over the past few months. "Maybe they’re just as excited as we are," he said with a grin, leaning down to press a kiss against her belly. "Can’t wait to meet you, little one, whoever you are."

Y/n chuckled, the sound light and full of love. "I hope they’re ready because I’m not sure how much longer I can wait." She sighed, leaning back against the cushions as she took a sip of her tea. The warmth spread through her, easing some of the tension that had built up in her back and shoulders.

Tyler sat beside her, his arm draped around her shoulders as they both took a moment to relax. The TV was on, playing one of their favourite old movies, but neither of them was really paying attention. Instead, they were caught up in the quiet intimacy of the moment, their thoughts drifting toward the future and the mystery of the life they were about to meet.

"Do you think we’re really ready for this?" Y/n asked quietly, her voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. It was a question that had lingered in the back of her mind for weeks now, growing louder as her due date approached.

Tyler turned to look at her, his gaze full of reassurance. "I think we’re as ready as we can be," he replied, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder. "We’ve got everything set up, we’ve read all the books, and we’ve got each other. That’s what matters."

Y/n nodded, but the nerves were still there, lurking beneath the surface. "It just feels so…huge, you know? Like our whole world is about to change, and we have no idea if it’s a boy or a girl."

"It is," Tyler agreed, his voice soft. "But it’s going to be amazing, no matter what. We’re going to be parents, Y/n. Whether we have a son or a daughter, we’ll figure it out together, just like we always do."

She smiled at that, her heart swelling with love for the man beside her. Tyler had always been her rock, the steady presence in her life who could make even the most daunting challenges seem manageable. She couldn’t imagine going through this without him.

"I love you, Tyler," she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I love you too," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And I’m so excited to meet our little one. Boy or girl, they’re going to be perfect."

They sat there for a while longer, wrapped in each other’s embrace, letting the quiet of the evening soothe their nerves. Y/n’s eyes drifted shut, the rhythmic sound of Tyler’s breathing lulling her into a light doze. But just as she was beginning to relax, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through her abdomen, jolting her awake.

She gasped, her hand flying to her belly as the pain subsided, leaving her breathless. Tyler noticed immediately, his body tensing as he turned to her with concern. "What is it? Are you okay?"

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I…I don’t know. That felt different."

Tyler’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. "Do you think…?" he began, but before he could finish, another contraction gripped Y/n, this one stronger and more intense than the last.

"Tyler," she breathed, her voice shaking. "I think this is it. I think the baby’s coming."

For a moment, Tyler was frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. But then, like a switch had been flipped, he sprang into action. "Okay, okay," he said, trying to keep his voice calm even as adrenaline surged through him. "We’ve got this. The hospital bag is ready, and we can be out the door in five minutes."

He helped Y/n to her feet, supporting her as they made their way to the front door. Each step was a challenge for Y/n, the contractions coming faster and harder now. She clung to Tyler, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she tried to push through the pain.

"You’re doing great, babe," Tyler encouraged, though his voice was tight with worry. He grabbed the hospital bag and quickly led Y/n to the car, helping her inside before jumping into the driver’s seat.

Y/n sat in the passenger seat, her hands gripping the edges of the seat as she tried to steady her breathing. The contractions were coming faster now, each one more intense than the last, and she could feel the pressure building with every passing minute. She glanced over at Tyler, who was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other gently resting on her leg, his touch grounding her in the midst of the storm raging inside her body.

“Just keep breathing, Y/n,” Tyler said, his voice calm despite the tension in the air. He kept his eyes on the road, but his focus was entirely on her, watching for any sign of distress. “You’re doing great, babe. We’re almost there.”

Y/n tried to nod, but another contraction hit her like a wave, stealing her breath away. She gasped, her hand flying to her belly as the pain surged through her. “Tyler, it’s getting worse,” she managed to say, her voice strained. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

Tyler’s heart clenched at the sound of her pain, but he forced himself to stay calm. “We’re going to make it, Y/n. Just hang in there a little longer,” he reassured her, pressing down on the gas pedal a little harder. The car picked up speed, the engine roaring as they flew down the highway.

The world outside the car blurred, the familiar landmarks passing by in a haze as they raced toward the hospital. Tyler kept his focus on the road, but his mind was racing with a thousand thoughts. Was this really happening? Was their baby really on the way? The reality of it all was overwhelming, but he pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on getting Y/n to the hospital as quickly as possible.

Y/n’s breathing was ragged now, each contraction pulling her deeper into a haze of pain. She tried to find something to hold on to, some anchor to keep her grounded, but it felt like the world was slipping away from her. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that she could barely think, barely breathe.

“Tyler…” she whispered, her voice trembling as another contraction tore through her. “I’m scared.”

Tyler’s heart ached at her words, and he reached over, squeezing her hand tightly. “I know, babe. But you’re the strongest person I know. You’re going to get through this, and I’ll be right here with you the whole time,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/n nodded weakly, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She leaned her head back against the seat, trying to focus on Tyler’s voice, on the steady rhythm of his words. It was the only thing keeping her from spiralling into panic.

The hospital was still a few miles away, but to Y/n, it felt like it was on the other side of the world. The contractions were coming almost back-to-back now, each one more powerful than the last. She could feel the baby moving lower, the pressure building to an unbearable point.

“Tyler, I don’t think I can wait much longer,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. “I think the baby’s coming now.”

Tyler’s heart skipped a beat, panic flaring in his chest. But he forced himself to stay calm, to keep his focus on getting them to the hospital. “Just hold on, Y/n. We’re almost there,” he said, his voice steady even as fear clawed at the edges of his mind.

The hospital loomed in the distance, the bright lights shining like a beacon in the dark. Tyler’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he swerved into the emergency entrance, the tires screeching as he brought the car to a sudden stop. Before the car had even fully stopped, he was out of the driver’s seat and rushing around to Y/n’s side.

“Hold on, babe, I’ve got you,” Tyler said, his voice frantic as he helped Y/n out of the car. She leaned heavily on him, her legs barely able to support her weight as the contractions continued to rip through her.

The hospital doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and the bright fluorescent lights of the emergency room flooded over them. Nurses rushed forward, immediately assessing the situation and springing into action. Tyler stayed by Y/n’s side, his arm wrapped around her waist as they wheeled her toward the delivery room.

As they hurried down the hallway, Tyler’s mind was racing. This was it. This was really happening. Their baby was on the way, and in just a few short moments, their lives would change forever. But even as fear and anxiety threatened to overwhelm him, he looked down at Y/n, her face contorted in pain, and felt a surge of love and determination.

“We’re almost there, Y/n,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “Just a little bit longer, and we’ll meet our baby.”

Y/n squeezed his hand, her grip fierce despite the pain. She could barely think, could barely breathe, but Tyler’s presence beside her kept her grounded, kept her fighting. As they entered the delivery room, the pain and fear faded into the background, replaced by a single, overwhelming thought.

The doctor arrived, checking her progress. "You’re fully dilated—10 centimetres. It’s time to start pushing."

Y/n’s heart pounded. She knew this was it, the moment they had been waiting for, but the fear and pain were almost too much to bear. The first contraction came, and the urge to push was overwhelming.

"Push, Y/n!" the doctor instructed.

Y/n bore down, pushing with everything she had, but the pain was so intense that she couldn’t hold back. As she gripped Tyler’s hand, she felt another wave of pain hit, and a surge of frustration bubbled up inside her. The pressure was unbearable, and the pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

"Tyler, I can’t do this!" she cried out, her voice filled with desperation.

"Yes, you can," Tyler replied, his voice soft but firm. "You’re the strongest person I know."

But another contraction hit, and Y/n felt as if her body was being torn apart. The intensity of it all made her snap, her frustration and fear spilling over. "This is all your fault, Tyler!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face as she pushed again, her body trembling with the effort. "You did this to me!"

Tyler’s eyes widened in shock, but he quickly recovered, his expression softening as he realized she was in the throes of labour pain. "I know, baby. I’m so sorry," he said, squeezing her hand. "But you’re doing so great. We’re almost there."

Y/n gritted her teeth, pushing through the next contraction. The pain was unbearable, and she screamed again, this time more from the sheer effort than from anger. "You better not ever touch me again, Tyler!" she yelled, her voice hoarse with the strain.

Tyler tried to keep calm, knowing she didn’t mean it. He leaned in close, his voice soothing despite the chaos. "I promise, I won’t—if that’s what you want. But right now, we need to get our baby here. You’re doing amazing."

Y/n pushed again, her body wracked with pain, but Tyler’s words gave her something to focus on. She locked eyes with him, and despite the anger and frustration, she knew he was right there with her.

"The head is crowning!" the doctor announced. "One more big push, Y/n!"

Y/n let out a primal scream, using every ounce of strength she had left. The pressure was searing, and she felt as if she couldn’t take it any longer. "Tyler, I hate you!" she screamed, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew it wasn’t true. She was just desperate for the pain to end.

"I know, baby," Tyler whispered, tears in his eyes as he held her hand, his heart breaking for her. "I love you. You’re almost there."

With one final, monumental effort, Y/n pushed with all her might. She screamed again, the pain and frustration pouring out of her, but then—suddenly—the pressure eased. The baby’s head emerged, followed quickly by the rest of the body.

The room filled with the sound of a newborn’s first cry.

"It’s a girl!" the doctor announced, holding up the tiny, wriggling baby for them to see.

Y/n collapsed back onto the bed, utterly exhausted but overwhelmed with emotion. Tears streamed down her face as the nurse placed their daughter on her chest. The pain, the fear, the anger—it all melted away as she looked down at the tiny, perfect life she had just brought into the world.

Tyler’s eyes were filled with awe as he leaned down to kiss Y/n’s forehead. "She’s perfect," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "You did it, Y/n. I’m so proud of you."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes still wet with tears, and despite everything she had screamed at him moments before, all she felt now was love. "I’m sorry I yelled at you," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Tyler smiled, his eyes filled with love and understanding. "You have nothing to apologize for. You were incredible."

As they both gazed down at their daughter, Y/n’s heart swelled with a love she had never known before. The pain and frustration were now distant memories, replaced by the overwhelming joy of holding their baby in her arms.

"Welcome to the world, little one," Y/n murmured, brushing a soft kiss on her daughter’s forehead. The room was filled with a quiet, reverent awe as they held their daughter for the first time, soaking in every detail of her precious face.

The room was quiet, the air filled with a soft hum from the machines surrounding them. The bright lights had been dimmed, casting a gentle glow over the small, sterile space that now felt like the most intimate place in the world. Tyler sat beside the hospital bed, his hand tightly holding Y/n's as they both gazed down at the tiny bundle cradled in her arms.

Their newborn daughter, wrapped snugly in a soft, pink blanket, slept soundly, her little face scrunched up in that way newborns do, her tiny fingers curled into delicate fists. She was perfect, every detail of her small features already memorized by her parents as they looked at her in awe, unable to believe that this little person was truly theirs.

Y/n felt a rush of emotions as she looked at her daughter, an overwhelming love that she had never experienced before. It was as if her heart had expanded, filled to the brim with a love so fierce and all-encompassing that it brought tears to her eyes. Tyler noticed, reaching up to brush a stray tear from her cheek, his own eyes misty with unshed tears.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I can’t believe she’s really here.”

Y/n smiled, her heart swelling with pride and love as she looked up at him. “We did it, Tyler. We really did it.”

Tyler leaned down to press a tender kiss to Y/n’s forehead before moving to place a soft kiss on their daughter’s head, her fine, dark hair just barely peeking out from beneath the blanket. “She’s everything, Y/n. I didn’t think I could love anyone more than I love you, but she’s...”

“Perfect,” Y/n finished for him, her voice full of wonder as she gently stroked the baby’s cheek with her finger. The baby stirred slightly at the touch, letting out a tiny, contented sigh before settling back into sleep.

Tyler smiled down at their daughter, his heart bursting with a pride and love he had never known. “What do you think we should name her?” he asked softly, his eyes never leaving the tiny face that had already stolen his heart.

Y/n looked down at their daughter, considering the question. They had talked about names throughout the pregnancy, tossing ideas back and forth, but nothing had felt quite right. Now, though, as she looked at their baby girl, she felt like she knew exactly what her name should be.

“I’ve been thinking,” Y/n began, her voice trembling with emotion. “How about Hazel? It’s sweet, timeless, and it feels like it fits her.”

Tyler repeated the name in his mind, letting it settle. “Hazel,” he whispered, as if testing it out. He smiled, nodding slowly as he looked down at their daughter. “Hazel. It’s perfect, Y/n. Just like her.”

Y/n smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over her as she looked down at Hazel. The name felt right, like it had always been hers. “Hazel Grace Owens,” she said softly, her voice filled with love and pride. “Welcome to the world, little one.”

Tyler gently placed a hand on Hazel’s tiny head, his fingers brushing against the soft hair. “Hazel Grace,” he echoed, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re so happy to meet you, sweetheart.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as they both sat there, basking in the quiet, profound joy of the moment. The room was filled with a sense of calm, the kind of peace that only comes after a long and difficult journey. The exhaustion of the labour, the fear, and the pain had all melted away, replaced by the overwhelming love they felt for their daughter.

Y/n leaned back against the pillows, her body tired but her heart full. She watched as Tyler gently stroked Hazel’s cheek, his eyes filled with wonder as he took in every tiny detail of their daughter’s face.

“Can you believe she’s ours?” Y/n asked softly, her voice filled with awe.

Tyler shook his head, a small, incredulous smile on his lips. “No, I can’t. But I’m so glad she is.”

He leaned down to kiss Y/n again, his lips lingering on hers for a moment longer than usual. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, their daughter cradled safely between them.

“We’re going to be the best parents we can be,” Tyler whispered, his voice full of determination and love.

Y/n nodded, her eyes brimming with tears once again. “I know we will. We’ll figure it out together, just like we always do.”

As they sat there, holding their newborn daughter in their arms, the weight of the moment settled over them. It was the start of a new chapter, one filled with uncertainty, challenges, and a love that was already deeper than they could have ever imagined.

Hazel shifted in her sleep, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her lips as if she could sense the love surrounding her. Tyler and Y/n both smiled, their hearts full as they watched their daughter, knowing that no matter what the future held, they would face it together as a family.

The night outside the hospital was quiet, the world still turning, but inside that little room, everything had changed. The three of them sat there, bound together by love, as they began the journey of a lifetime.

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens #twisters fanfiction #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens smut #dad!tyler owens

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