#tree anon my beloved

[fortjester]

THE SUNSET TREE BY THE MOUNTAIN GOATS. BEST ALBUM OF ALL TIME

TRUE AND REAL. WILL RELISTEN ON MY DRIVE TO WORK. LIONS TEETH HERE I COME WHOOP WHOOP

[linklethehistorian]

um you are aware there are multiple bitch tree anons right?? And they've also been targeting other blogs

I am indeed aware there likely are multiple, yes. Lolol But it’s so much more fun to just categorize them all together, so unless they’d like to identify themselves separately, I shall continue with this effort. 💕

Also, yes, I am well aware they have gone to other blogs over time, after the OG post. All of whom I am associated with in some way or another, I should add — be they friend or self-proclaimed foe. lmfao

Either way, I adore them. 💕💕💕💕

[kandidandi]

the country side is ncie until you visit your uncle's cabin in the woods and see one of his chickens brutally get ripped open by a wolf

good thing we dont have wolves in australia then

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

I love the running joke that moon is their mom but look at eclipse, sun is his mom. Sun is probably all their moms. But moon takes responsibility cause mom sun is in the middle of a murderous break down and his kids are in danger.

-🩸🌜

Sun is the surrogate Mom, Moon is the biological Mom.

[zelda7999]

Hey, psst, you there!

I've got a message for you, it's real important!

Okay, here it is:

YOU ARE AMAZING!!!

:D tada!! I hope you have a lovely day <3

- 🌲

(can you guess who? ;3c)

I SAW THIS WHEN I WAS HALF ASLEEP AND FRESHLY WOKEN UP-- AND I MELTED. I AM SEEING IT AGAIN. MORE AWAKE. AND STILL MELTING.

HI BELOVED MUTUAL, BELOVED FRIEND, LIEBLINGSMENSCH <3

DID YOU KNOW, THAT YOU ARE BELOVED, AMAZING, SPECTACULAR, IMMACULATE, EXTRAVAGANT, AND MORE?? I CANNOT EXPRESS MY ADORATION FOR YOU IN WORDS <3 <3 <3

[givemeafuckingbreakorurgay]

I know I don't say this enough to people but I always enjoy your presence online. It makes me happy to see you come across my dash.

~🌲

Tree anon ur too sweet mate 🥺💕

I’m happy to be here with you 🤪🤟

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

https://www.tumblr.com/twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat/742232698896171008/i-miss-my-wife-would-you-be-willing-to?source=share

Oh my gosh, these snippets are actually insane??

Like?? They're stunning.

I audibly gasped when I saw them.

The imagery is beautiful.

I love the ginkgo imagery. The idea of snuggling into the soil? Comparing Suguru and Kenjaku using a ginkgo tree? And just the way you did it? I feel like I should be analysing this in an English class. Your work reminds me, somewhat, of Alice Oswald (cf 'Dart', 'Woods etc.').

You're really talented. (To me, too, your work, especially in these snippets, feels very slick.)

OHHH ANON MY LOVE this made me so happy u have no idea 😭😭 this fic is very special to me so i def wanna go very heavy on the prose … I’M SO HAPPY U LIKE THE GINKGO IMAGERY sugu just reminds me sm of those pretty golden leaves <33 and kenny too ofc !!

ngl i shamefully had to look up who alice oswald is i am Not cultured lmao BUT WOWWWW ANON???? i’m so flattered i cried HER WRITING IS SO GORGEOUSSS i’m def gonna check her stuff out for inspo ….. might buy one of her collections bc her poetry seems so stunning !! tysm for sending her my way <333

AND GOSHH CALLING IT SLICK IS THE KINDEST THING EVER ??? the thing i’m most insecure abt when it comes to my writing is without a doubt the general Flow, so that’s just. such a relief 😭😭 ILYYY i’m so happy that some ppl are hyped for the kenny fic :’33 if u decide to read it when it’s out then i hope u enjoy !! <333

[swordgrace]

𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ cregan stark x fem!targtower!reader.

SYNOPSIS: as the youngest daughter of alicent hightower, you are wed to the young wolf, cregan stark. what many believe to be a union of strife, such a notion is proven wrong very quickly.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anon.

{ WORD COUNT: 6.7K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), arranged marriage, reader is a targtower with pale hair & lilac eyes, skin color unspecified, first time sex (for reader), loss of virginity, p in v sex (unprotected), massive breeding kink, all stark men have a breeding gene, oral sex / cunnilingus (fem!rec), face-sitting, biting/marking, making out, lots of touching, missionary position, talk of having a child, soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: There’s been a ton of Cregan requests, so I hope that this satisfies a lot of people until I post another! ❤️ Thank you all so much for the incredible requests and support of my work, it means the world to me and I am extremely grateful for all of it. See you guys soon!

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 — 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞.

The North was often regarded as a harsh and unyielding environment, with bitter, stinging winds and snowfalls that could bury men alive beneath their might. Such tales were often told to scare children or dissuade them from leaving the roost.

It was untamed and savage, according to your mother — she who vehemently fought against your betrothal to Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. A marriage steeped in wariness and discord, you had been pleasantly surprised by your husband’s kindness and warm stoicism.

Piety was a rarity in the bleak, bloodsoaked world you lived within — innocence was a quality as uncommon as a diamond in the rough. When Cregan had been offered such a sacred proposal during the last days of King Viserys I, he nearly scoffed at it.

A Targaryen, a Hightower — he almost imagined that the both of you would not do well together, and that it would become a sour union, made only to please families and uphold duty. His advisors, old men with embittered grudges against the South, cautioned him away from it, imploring him to wed a girl from the Vale or the Reach.

When Cregan Stark met you, clad in pale shades of sage and ivory, with lilac hues and a smile that could melt even the toughest of ice, perhaps it would not be a dreadful marriage after all.

Even with a dragon at your heel, there was something positively resplendent about you — Cregan could feel it within his marrow, a feeling seldom felt by any man locked in an arranged betrothal.

It was your innocuous, tenderhearted nature that beguiled him, as if you unconsciously drew him in with your honey. Your very first meeting happened to be to seal the marriage pact itself before you would be shipped away to the North, to be his wife and the new Lady Stark.

Cregan rarely found himself charmed by anyone, yet you possessed an inner beauty that flourished in his presence. You were your own flame, burning through his hardened exterior. He did not mistake your docile nature for weakness — you possessed a dragon, where he did not.

You were rather taken with him, perplexed by his outward ruggedness and gruff accent, the way in which he carried himself, massive physique clad in the thick trappings of a wolf. He was a mountain of a man, yet he handled you as if you were some precious jewel, sacred and worthy of admiration.

Alicent begrudgingly watched as you, her youngest daughter, untainted by her own fractured morality, was sent away to the North in the hands of some brute. For the good of the Realm, Viserys had told her, but it cut deeper knowing that it was you, her beloved flesh and blood.

Yet, as you found yourself beneath the crimson leaves of the Weirwood Tree in the Godswood, hands bound with Cregan’s own, you forgot about your mother’s bitterness entirely — and you were happy.

The first kiss was one that would make a permanent residence within your memory for lifetimes to come. He had cradled your face, towering over you as if he were a solemn statue, but even you could see the softening within his visage.

King’s Landing was suffocating, more often than not. The animosity that festered between your family smothered you, crushing you beneath its sharp heel. You were no longer surrounded by bitterness and resentment, and instead, cloaked by the protection and warmth of your new husband.

The feast held in honor of your blossoming union was one of merriment, the mood lighthearted and blissful. You sat beside your husband, stomach tumbling with a coil of nerves. Everyone seemed foreign to you, unfamiliar faces with their northern attitudes and odd indifference.

You could not fault anyone for having their suspicions, given your heritage. Being a Targaryen, pale-headed and violet-eyed, bringing your dragon from the South — it must’ve been jarring. Growing into your station as the Lady of Winterfell would be a long and arduous process, but you hoped that Cregan would show you the way.

Oblivious to your Lord-Husband’s smoldering stare, you politely consumed bites of the sugar-dusted fruit cobbler, admiring the vibrant aura within the room. Your wedding gowns were as pure as the driven snow, accented with silver embroidery and lined with pale fleece to keep you warm, given the cold gnaw of winter.

If it weren’t for Cregan’s steadfastness in providing you with a new wardrobe fit for winter, the icy chill would’ve consumed your extremities from the inside-out.

Leaning over within his seat, Cregan reached for your hand, stormy-gray hues churning with a kindness reserved for you. “How are you faring, wife?” He inquired, voice a low rumble; a soothing timbre that sent shivers down your spine.

“Very well,” Warmth crawled along your flesh when he referred to you as wife so openly and affectionately. You weren’t accustomed to having someone be so attentive to you, hang upon your every word, treat you with such courteousness. “This is so wonderful. I must thank you and your Keep, for your kindness.”

If you were anyone else, Cregan might’ve treated you with a stalwart cordiality found in most formalities, but you were not anyone else. You were good, sweet, and kindhearted — above all, you were quite innocent. He would’ve been telling himself a bold lie if he hadn’t thought about taking you to bed several times already.

The colors of the North suited you — his home suited you. Not many men of his position were so lucky when it came to betrothals, but he felt as if he was beyond fortunate to have married you. Cregan only hoped to be a good husband to you and to your future children, heirs to Winterfell, with the blood of the dragon and the wolf in their veins.

He had forbidden a bedding ceremony, content to guide you to your chambers once the festivities ceased, instead. Cregan enjoyed observing you and your demure mannerisms, from the way you made small talk with those around you, complimenting the choice of food and drink. It warmed his heart to know that his wife was an amiable soul.

“You needn’t worry, Princess. It is my duty as your husband to show you a bit of Northern hospitality.” Cregan mused, a ghost of a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth. He rarely showed any emotion, let alone treating his subjects with a smile given his hardiness, but he did show a sliver of it for you. He didn’t want to scare you away.

With a delighted smile, your hand shyly curled around his, your skin unblemished and soft. Cregan hadn’t touched a woman as silky as you, and it made his blood run hot — an inopportune time, given that it was in the midst of his wedding feast. “Thank you, my Lord.” You weren’t sure if you were permitted to abandon formalities just yet.

Cregan huffed, gaze twinkling with amusement as he let your smaller hand hold his own, digits tenderly caressing over your knuckles. “I would hope that you only call me ‘my Lord’ if you’re angry with me,” His chest rumbled with an affectionate sound. “You aren’t in King’s Landing anymore.”

Embarrassment rippled through you, but before you could correct yourself out of anxiousness, Cregan gingerly squeezed your hand. Instead, it evoked a smile from you, the very same tender expression you’d given him when you were proclaimed as his wife. “I will call you husband when I am pleased with you.” You mused, bright as could be, and so blissfully naive.

Often regarded as a brooding, serious man with little traces of humor, Cregan found himself letting his guard down just enough with you. Of course, to any observer, he still seemed rather stoic, but the brief, fleeting looks he gave you, the threadbare smiles — it suggested otherwise.

As the excitable buzz of the feast began to simmer, Cregan stood from the table, wood scraping across the stone floors of the Great Hall. He stepped away from you, sparing the servants and guardsmen a word before he returned to your side.

“Is there not to be a bedding ceremony?” You whispered, stomach still tight and festering with nervousness. It was something you feared since you last saw Aegon and Helaena be hauled away for such a thing. The concept of it frightened you, twisted and unusual.

With furrowed brows, Cregan shook his head, offering his thick arm out for you to take. “No,” He grunted, noticing the swell of anxiousness etched into your features. “I would never subject you to such a thing, or myself.” He murmured, feeling you take his arm as he led you from the Great Hall.

Relief flooded through you, and you finally relaxed, seemingly appreciative of Cregan’s thoughtfulness in the matter. “Thank you, husband.” You sighed, gripping onto his arm as he led you into a warm corridor and towards a massive spiral of thick, stone steps.

Though, you still had a duty to perform — consummating the marriage, creating an heir. Part of you feared what it all entailed, given that Helaena never seemed pleased with any of it. Would he hurt you? You were uncertain, but you wanted to believe that your new husband would keep you safe.

Cregan welcomed you into your marital chambers, tidied and polished for your stay. Whatever belongings you brought with you, they were situated near a set of fine, wooden chairs circled around a stone table. Everything seemed warm and comely in his quarters, the direwolf aesthetic heavy-handed, the hearth crackling and bursting with ripples of fire.

“If there is something not to your liking, inform me — I will have it rearranged,” Cregan rumbled, following in your footsteps as you neared the open hearth, warming your hands and basking in its glow. He stood close to you, towering over you with his bulk and might. “How are you?” He asked, ensuring your comfort above all else.

There was little need for the hearth when Cregan was near, radiating a natural heat that drew you in. His countenance seemed softer, not nearly as impassive as he’d been before. “I am more than fine, I promise.” You assured him, hands wringing together. “I thought that I would miss home, but I do not. Isn’t that terrible?”

Perplexed, Cregan seemed inclined to listen to your elaboration, chestnut tresses framing his face. “It isn’t a terrible thing, princess. I would imagine that it must be freeing, to be somewhere else. You’ve never left the capital.” He replied, knowing that you were quite sheltered for most of your life.

A soft sigh escaped you, and you tried not to think about it anymore. You didn’t want to sour the mood with talk of home and the past — this was now. “It is liberating,” You confessed, craning to look at him with a semblance of wonder and affection. “I am happy that I’m here with you.” You spoke with genuineness and finality.

It was pleasing to hear you say such a thing, and even better to know that you truly meant it. One thick, burly arm slowly encircled your hips, bringing you into the warm expanse of his chest. “Good,” He murmured, expression steely. “That pleases me greatly.”

To know that Cregan valued your happiness was a wonderful feeling — you felt cared for and seen, shrouded within his protectiveness. You imagined that it would be a blissful marriage. “Thank you, Cregan.” His name slipped from your perfect tongue, and he thoroughly enjoyed the sound it made.

A low rumble vibrated through Cregan’s chest as he drew you as close as he could, tracing his calloused digits along the soft curve of your jaw. “You are very beautiful,” He murmured, timbre edged with a delicious husk that made your knees buckle. You shivered, something that he took note of. “Are you cold, wife?”

You nodded, sucking in a sharp breath when his lips neared yours. “I am.” A squeak escaped you, followed by a steady exhale. You had been kissed before, but the extent of your experience abruptly stopped there. You imagined that you wouldn’t be cold for much longer.

His lips met yours, the kiss tender yet passionate, deepened by your husband. Cregan found your mouth to be most pleasant, pliant and perfectly soft, yet malleable. You reciprocated his kiss, hands moving to press against his chest.

“Will it be painful?” You whispered, likely in an attempt to soothe your gnawing nervousness. Agony was something that didn’t coexist with pleasure, in your mind. You wanted this moment to be special and sacred, binding yourself to your husband.

Cregan hesitated, gently cupping your face with his rough palm, tenderly stroking along your cheek. “I wouldn’t dare harm you, princess. You have my word.” He assured, and it confirmed his suspicions — you hadn’t been with another before. “It might be painful, but I will be gentle. We don’t have to start tonight.”

Admittedly, it was quite the opposite for you — you wanted to start tonight, but you longed for clarification first, and he gave it to you. You shook your head, hands slipping toward the front of his tunic, as if silently pleading with him to stay. “I want to.” You insisted, looking like the picture of innocence.

As much as he liked you sweet and pious, Cregan had a feeling that it would be somewhat different after this. His gray hues swirled with a heavy desire, dropping towards the delicate curve of your mouth. “May I?” It was all that he needed to ask, and as soon as you nodded, he brought you in for a heated kiss.

Despite his appearance, a stone-faced wall of muscle and Northern strength, he was incredibly gentle with you. He held you against him, never tight enough to cause you discomfort, hands softly kneading into your hips. You kissed him back as best as you could, feverishly hot, butterflies erupting within your stomach.

His beautiful wife — Cregan could not imagine another, now that he had you in his arms. The way you kissed him was innocuous and tender, as if you were also terrified of making a mistake. Your purity, a precious thing indeed, would be tarnished and dissolved after this evening.

The thought of you, round and swollen with his child, was both tantalizing and tempting — well within his grasp. Cregan wondered if they would take after you, pale-headed with lilac hues, or perhaps himself. If the Gods were good, they would be a blend of the both of you, a dragon and a wolf.

You shivered again when your burly husband curled his hand into the back of your wedding gown, fingers slipping between the gaps, feeling inklings of your bare skin beneath. “I’ll keep you warm, wife.” He rumbled, pressing a kiss against your jaw. It wasn’t from the cold, he knew this, but his honeyed words made you flustered.

He dropped his cloak, allowing the thick curtain of fur to land against the floor. He was impossibly broad, as thick as stone, tunic loose yet snug enough to accentuate his brawn. You felt your breath hitch within your throat, swallowing another barrage of nerves.

Cregan’s mouth assailed your neck, hand peeling away the collar of pale fur in order to reach you. Every kiss was passionate, wrought with need, yet maintained that air of gentleness. Roughness was in his nature, but he wouldn’t dare fall into that pit on your wedding night.

You tasted ambrosial, sweet velvet beneath his lips, which peppered themselves wherever they could. He listened to your soft gasps and needy whines, your hands having curled into the coarse material of his tunic. He wanted to show you just how perfect you really were.

Suddenly, your gown felt much too tight and constricting, as if you would drown within it. You alleviated such sensations by loosening the bodice, tugging on the ivory strings. The fur became unraveled as Cregan gently draped the garment over the back of a chair.

Left in the thin, humble trappings of your smallclothes, nothing more than a corset hugging a linen slip, he silently appraised you with the hunger of a wolf. You appeared to be shy, somewhat coy in his presence as he looked you over, large palms settling against the swell of your hips.

“Why do you shy away?” Cregan murmured, chestnut brows furrowing together, tone one of genuine concern. You were the prettiest creature he’d ever seen — most Targaryens were known for their beauty, but you possessed it both ways, inner and outer, and that only made you more incomparable in his eyes.

Swallowing your nerves, you chewed at the inside of your cheek, hands fidgeting together. “I suppose I worry about what you’ll think,” A sore insecurity, to be sure, but something most young maidens possessed. Cregan’s gray hues softened, one hand stroking along the length of your spine. “That I won’t be suitable.”

A huff escaped him, a threadbare chuckle as he shook his head, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “You worry too much, princess.” That deep, thunderous timbre of his, husky with his Northern accent, shook you right to your core. “You are my wife — and you are perfect.” He assured, kissing along your jaw.

You exhaled, hands reaching for his tunic, wanting to see him without his clothing. There was a rush of warmth that crawled across your flesh, surging through your blood as Cregan pressed endless kisses against your skin. He trailed from jaw to collarbone, hands loosening your corset.

With a brusque tug, your gruff husband tore it from you altogether, tossing the bodice aside. “I will show you how perfect you are.” He rumbled, voice a low, heavy caress near the shell of your ear. You shivered, gaze half-lidded as you tugged insistently at his tunic.

The message was unspoken, but conveyed nonetheless as your mountain of a husband let his hands drop from you, only to tug the coarse, dark linen over his head. He was burly, broad-shouldered and thick with muscle, wisps of chestnut tresses framing his face.

Amusingly enough, Cregan possessed more of a cherubic, youthful face than you expected, yet his nose was slightly crooked from having it broken, faint scars upon his face. His eyes seemed wisened, old beyond his years. He reached for your slip, gathering the material within his hands as he looked to you for consent.

With your confidence rejuvenated, you nodded, breathless and wanton as you assisted him in maneuvering out of your thin smallclothes. The brief lick of chilled air dragged across your bare flesh, causing your nipples to harden, pebbling with the chill.

Fire danced across your physique, tantalizing and gorgeous, beautiful beyond compare. Even Cregan seemed speechless for a beat, throat reverberating with a low grunt as he motioned toward your shared bed.

You half-expected him to pounce on you, grab your hips and stake his claim, but he simply resorted to watching you slide onto the bed, covered in furs of all varieties. The frame rustled slightly, and you laid down, a picture of true perfection. Your crown of pale tresses seemed to stick out amidst the darker pallor of the furs.

Anticipation churned violently within your gut, arousal slick and mounting between your thighs as Cregan stalked closer, removing clothing in the process. You watched with bated breath as he loosened the ties of his breeches, removing them altogether.

It was to be expected — a man of his indomitable stature likely had the assets to accompany it. You nearly choked at the sight of him, terrified that it really would hurt, even if he was gentle. You sucked in a sharp breath, bewildered when he had reclined beside you instead.

“I won’t bite, my Lady.” Cregan rumbled, soothingly patting his lap as you crawled closer. He effortlessly picked you up, letting you straddle his hips as he admired you from below. “Hm.” With a hum of approval, he caressed along your form, stroking from your thigh to your breasts.

It was agonizingly deliberate, made to explore and study instead of acting upon salacious impulses. Cregan observed you closely, palm gently cupping your breast, thumb swiping over your nipple. You gasped, careening into his sensual embrace.

A flurry of desire bubbled within him when you planted your smaller hand atop his, as if encouraging him to knead and grope at his leisure. He seemed pleased, and so did you, a low hum escaping you as he caressed your silky flesh.

He made sure to show that same amount of attention to your unattended breast, slowly kneading into you. Those tempestuous gray hues never tore themselves away from you, boring into you with a searing intensity.

Warm slick coalesced between your thighs, only mounting and growing when he continued to touch you, hand lifting to cup your chin. You absentmindedly leaned into his touch, eyes becoming half-lidded as you rocked forward within his lap.

The sensations you felt were new and exhilarating, goosebumps dancing across your spine, heat pooling between your legs. “May I touch you?” You asked, tone delicate and sweet, a display of your piety and innocence. He quite enjoyed your desire to explore alongside him, and he gave a nod of his head.

“You don’t need to ask, princess.” He soothed, jaw tensing as your soft palms settled against his chest. Cregan’s stormy eyes didn’t leave you, carefully tracing each plane of your curves, the downy texture of your skin, the lilac glint of your eyes.

Your fingertips dragged across his musculature, committing each scar to memory, features becoming hot beneath his incendiary stare. He was your husband now — you imagined that scenarios like these would become commonplace. “You are so handsome,” You whispered incredulously, lips curling into a gentle smile. “Perfect.”

Cregan appeared perplexed, a soft huff escaping him as he trailed his calloused palm across the small of your back. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had called him perfect and meant it — and he knew that you did. He neglected to act, allowing you to explore as much as you pleased.

Awestruck, he watched with silent hunger as you leaned down, lips pressing against his own. A soft grunt escaped Cregan as he caged you in, mouth passionate as it tangled with yours. He enjoyed the feeling of your body snug atop his, your skin resplendent, like velvet against the grating bite of stone.

Dragging a hand from the swell of your hips to the nape of your neck, he gripped the base of your skull, gingerly kneading into your pale tresses. He kissed you again, oozing with desire as he stole every wisp of air from your lungs.

He pulled one leg up into a v-shape, supporting your back to keep you upright atop his lap. You could feel the thick girth of his cock nudge against your backside, causing you to shiver at the foreign sensation. “Do you trust me?” Cregan murmured, roughened fingertips dragging over the pliant flesh of your thigh.

There was an indiscernible look within his eyes, chestnut brows drawing together slightly. Your breath hitched as you nodded, and Cregan settled against the furs, strewn on his back. Those strong hands of his continued to nudge you forward, bringing you from his warm lap to his chest, and then a touch closer.

“What are you …” Uncertain yet filled with exhilaration, you had no idea what Cregan was planning. Your slick cunt neared his mouth, and your Northern paramour did little to slow the process, bumping you forward until you hovered above him. “C—Cregan, C —” Your voice tapered off into a whine.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, a sensation that immediately made your knees buckle. You used the headboard to brace yourself, mouth tearing open as a strangled gasp escaped you. Part of you feared sitting down entirely, but Cregan coaxed you down, hands digging into your haunches.

Your reaction was beyond worthwhile, body trembling and coiled, hand scrambling to brace yourself as the other fervently dug into his chestnut tresses. You never imagined that such pleasure was even possible, filling you with an excitable ecstasy that sank into your bones.

Splitting past your folds, Cregan tasted every inch of you, tongue seeking your cunt with a fervor. He was vigorous in his ministrations, not shying away from consuming every drop of your arousal. His nose brushed against your mound, hands kneading into your thighs to reassure you, let you know that he had you.

Even when he rested beneath you, he still seemed indomitable, perhaps a touch intimidating. You didn’t look down, body involuntarily trembling and rocking forward, back beginning to arch. “Gods, a—ah!” You stammered, thighs twitching and quivering as his tongue gently flicked over your clit.

Visibly flustered, you felt so strange and smitten, riding your husband’s face as you would your dragon. It filled your belly with a rousing fire, one bright enough to consume the rest of your body, licking along the length of your spine.

A low rumble emerged from Cregan’s chest, a vibration that rattled you to your core. He wanted you to have your fill, take as much as you could and drown within pleasure. Your maidenhead was still intact, a virtue that he did not treat lightly. He didn’t feel the need to breathe, lapping at your cunt with a wolfish gluttony.

You were undeniably soaked, like a fine stout upon his tongue as he devoured you. Cregan was passionate, each stroke of his tongue ensuring that you felt it all, bliss erupting throughout your stomach.

Chasing after what you imagined to be your release, you happened to peer down for a moment, finding the contented face of your husband, whose face was lodged between your legs. His brows were creased in concentration, tongue prodding against your entrance before languidly flicking back to your clit.

It was only when he pursed his lips around that sensitive clutch of nerves, that you nearly collapsed around him. Even your draconic blood could melt, tempered by the hardened ice of your Northern paramour. You gasped, hips stuttering as your thighs squeezed at either side of his head — fortunately, he didn’t seem to care.

The only thing you wanted was this, forever — your husband’s tongue between your legs, a sanctuary in the North with a potential family, a life in which you could finally find your solace. You continued to squirm and writhe, moaning his praises into the warmth of your chambers.

As you approached your peak, you grappled with Cregan’s tresses, tugging at the root as you rocked forward, again and again. “Cregan,” You moaned, countenance contorting into a look of sheer pleasure, bones crawling with an insatiable heat. “Cregan, Cregan, please!” It was a siren’s song of desire.

He did not stop, but he didn’t change course, either. Instead, he simply continued on, suckling at your clit as he intermingled it with timed laps of his tongue. Your release slammed into you, white-hot and blistering, gnawing away at your stomach as that coil of heat effectively snapped.

A whine emerged from you, one that was nearly breathless as you rocked forward again, legs shaking from ecstasy as you rode out your peak. Cregan, ever the dutiful husband, lapped at your nectar, savoring the taste, the scent of a pleasurable aftermath.

“What —” You had to catch your breath again, attempting to recuperate as you sat back on his chest instead, thick, burly muscle plentiful enough to cushion you. “Where did you learn how to do that?” It was an innocuous question, one so sweetly-spoken that it nearly caused Cregan to chuckle.

He did, however, smile — a rare, sentimental gesture reserved only for you. It was threadbare, and if it weren’t for the nature of your relationship, one might’ve thought him to be rugged and indifferent. “You need only ask, princess, and I will oblige.” His voice was a deep rumble that warmed your insides.

You thoroughly enjoyed the nickname of princess — a term of endearment given your status, but you were a princess no longer. “I am a lady of the North now, aren’t I? A princess no longer,” You proclaimed, skin shimmering with perspiration. “What will you call me, now?” You asked.

“Hm,” Cregan contemplated, pressing a kiss against your leg before he sat up enough to have a good look at you, chin still glistening with your slick. The sight was lewd, enough to make you unbelievably flustered as he grew closer, nearly chest-to-chest with you. “Lady Stark would suffice.” He murmured.

Something amorous burned within you, a smolder that soon turned to ignited sparks. “It would please me greatly.” You hummed, running your hands over his biceps before Cregan gently changed places with you, moving you beneath his bulk, comfortable upon your back.

Soft was a mere understatement — he could feel himself melt. It was not your dragon’s blood or heat that made him crumble, but your heart. He could imagine you as the mother of his children, belly round with his heirs, the Lady of Winterfell, a Hightower no longer.

He settled between your legs, and you gasped when his cock gently glided against your slick core. Cregan knew to temper himself, to be as gentle as he could with it being your wedding night, but his resolve was steadily diminished in your presence. He steeled himself, pressing a string of kisses along your body.

Without thinking, you unconsciously goaded Cregan into a point of near-frenzy. Your hands found the taut, trunk-like muscle of his biceps, visage filled with a sense of awe and adoration. “A child would please me greatly.” You confessed, having no clue what it would do to your husband.

Cregan stopped, digits curling into the thick furs on either side of your head. It took every fiber of his being not to fuck you then and there — and he wouldn’t, it wasn’t right for him to take your maidenhead with such roughness. His fantasy became reality, a visceral, beautiful vision that made him grunt, jaw unnaturally tense.

His rough palm soothingly stroked along your thigh, lust swelling within him like a blizzard, a violent storm of need that transcended all bonds of propriety. “Does Lady Stark want me to put a pup in her belly?” Cregan rumbled, tempestuous hues ignited with a fire that demanded to be extinguished, sending shockwaves right to your core.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, shuddering at the sound of his voice — an edged husk, like the rumbling of thunder before a deluge or the shaking of a mountain. “Yes,” You exhaled, searching his countenance, only to find desire. “I would.”

The Gods were testing him, aiming to see if he would break beneath the pressure, but he refused. Cregan lowered himself over you, lips molding themselves against yours in a hot kiss. Your hands remained poised atop his biceps, barely able to wrap themselves around the thick, corded muscle.

He wasn’t much of a talker, and it quickly dwindled into deep grunts and heavier sighs as he aligned his cock with your entrance. He made sure to part your legs, keeping them spread as he began to push inside of you. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, startled at the twinge of pain, the discomfort of it all.

Cregan despised the mere thought of causing you harm, and even he was willing to end it all then and there. “We don’t have to continue, beloved.” He rumbled, pressing a soothing string of kisses along your face. The endearing nickname made you preen, nails digging into his arms.

“No, I — I’m well enough,” You breathed, insistent on continuing. Cregan deliberated, but when you let out a low whine, he obeyed your command. “Gods, I need you, Cregan.” Pitched with a wanton resonance, you urged him to keep going.

Your neediness made his blood run hot, and he nodded, sluggishly resuming his pace. He continued to tilt his hips forward, cock feeding into you, inch by agonizing inch. Cregan felt the desperate bite of your nails clutching into muscle, leaving behind angry crescents.

You were never fully warned of the pain, the discomfort that accompanied pleasure. It was always sold as some fantasy, particularly for men — nights of heavenly passion resulting in bliss. For you, it was simply a marital duty to provide your husband with an heir, but this transcended that. Passion and affection sparked between the both of you, and it felt right.

As Cregan finally bottomed out inside of you, he allowed you time to fully adjust, rocking into you at a lackadaisical pace. He continued to shower you in kisses, wherever his lips could reach, giving particular affection to the crook of your neck.

Whatever discontent you felt, you hastily pushed it aside, tossing it into the recesses of your mind. Instead, you focused on him — on how incredible he made you feel, the warmth you experienced in his presence. One of your hands slipped to thread within his chestnut tresses, mouth agape.

You took him so well — better than expected, and it filled him with a sense of pride and ardor. Cregan pressed hungry kisses along your throat, nose buried into the hollow of it, right beneath your jugular. He continued to go slow, afraid of causing you further pain.

Cregan repositioned his hand, leaving one lodged beside your head, the other sinking into your haunch, digits tenderly kneading into your thigh. It was an offer of reassurance, and he watched your countenance shift from discontented to relaxed.

“Move,” The sharpness of your command brought him to heel, and he very nearly smiled — it was there, the ghost of it toying at his lips. Bringing his hips back and then forward, you moaned, knowing that the sting of pain would soon blossom into pleasure. “Please.”

Molten heat swirled within the pit of your stomach, arousal thick between your legs as Cregan began to find his pace, a rhythm that shook you to your core. He was so very gentle, even for a man of his herculean mass and muscle. He took care of you, soothingly caressing your thigh as he thrusted into you.

His cock filled you completely, a stretch that would take you more than just one night to adjust to. Your maidenhead was gone, your cunt tight around his length, pulling him in again and again.

Cregan’s breathing became heavier, somewhat labored as he consummated your union. Each snap of his hips held meaning, beyond the creation of an heir. It was tenuous with feelings, a burning sentiment he felt for you, ardor that had grown into a fire.

Admittedly, his mind was hazy, fueled by desire and the mere thought of you wanting a child — you had asked it of him, demanded, and he was at your mercy. Cregan couldn’t have gotten any luckier with you, the most resplendent woman he’d ever seen.

Imagining you full and round, still as lovely as the day he set his eyes upon you, a mother and a dragon — it was nothing short of true perfection. He chased after it, evident by the growing vigor and passion in each thrust of his hips, cock nearly tearing you into two.

No matter how gentle and careful Cregan was with you, it was to no avail, but you no longer cared. “Cregan,” You moaned, lifting one leg to hitch it around his waist, and that only seemed to further spur him on, allowing him to hit new depths. His throbbing length nearly kissed your womb, filling you to the brim. “Cregan!” You cried.

For a moment, you feared being split in-half by your mountain of a husband, but he slowed enough to let you recuperate, throat reverberating with carnal grunts. The rumbling of his chest, the heat that radiated from him in waves — it was all perfect.

It was driving him mad, the way your cunt constricted around his cock, the way in which your back arched from the furs, chest brushing against his. Cregan grunted, jaw set and brows furrowed in concentration as he kneaded into your thigh, something to alleviate his tension.

His thrusts deepened, became passionate and invigorated with love, and each snap of his hips made your head spin with delirium. You were drunk on desire, clinging to him as if you were a drowning maiden, hand splayed against his shoulder.

Whenever he happened to become a touch too vigorous, he felt your nails dig deep into his flesh, leaving behind the reddened marks of your consummation. Cregan was getting close, chest erupting with labored pants as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You moaned, body bending beneath his passion, malleable within his hands. His cock throbbed within you as he sought to spill his seed, face against yours, lips occasionally connecting in a series of sloppy, warm kisses. Everything felt incredible, in ways that you couldn’t comprehend.

He was so burly, a thick wall of impenetrable muscle that seemed to envelop you entirely, shield you from everything else, from all harm. Strands of chestnut stuck to his temples, flesh glittering with perspiration from the exertion of lovemaking, coupled with the heat in your chambers.

With another brusque thrust of his hips, he settled inside of you, reaching his peak with a subtle groan. His seed filled your cunt in hot ropes, more than enough to take, if the Gods were good. Cregan exhaled, feverishly hot as he began to recuperate, neglecting to remove himself from you for a few moments.

“Are you alright?” Cregan murmured, ensuring your wellbeing first, above all else. A stinging soreness settled into your thighs and your core, but you would survive. He didn’t completely obliterate you, thankfully — you wondered what he would be like, unrestrained.

“Yes,” You smiled, visibly flustered beneath the intensity of his stare. “That was incredible.” Your confession made him huff, likely one of amusement as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. Even you glittered with sweat, but that was to be expected.

You already wanted more — and you nearly asked it of him.

Lascivious fantasies took root within your mind, and the mere idea of him being rough and completely domineering made your cunt throb. You could not do it now, given how exhausted you were, but he had certainly unlocked a new side to you, a side that you were unfamiliar with.

Cregan pulled himself from you, propping your hips up beneath a feathered pillow to ensure that his seed would take. He rested beside you, drawing you into the bulk of his muscled arms, allowing you to rest your head against the expanse of his chest. “You were perfect.” He rumbled, roughened digits stroking along your spine.

It pleased you to know that your husband was satisfied with you, much to your delight. “I am glad,” Relief rippled through you as you inched closer, perfectly slotted against his frame. “So were you.” Your pleasant accolades made him smile, fracturing his stony exterior.

“There will be plenty of time for this, that I can promise you,” Cregan was more concerned with getting to know you, his beautiful lady-wife, Lady Stark. “I would like to start with you.” He murmured, savoring the sensation of your fingers tracing across his abdomen.

You blinked, seemingly surprised by Cregan’s genuine interest in you. It made you happy — perhaps you could have both. Moments of learning and moments like these, where you could indulge in pleasure.

“Would it offend you if I asked you to do both?” You questioned, warmth crawling along your body as Cregan squeezed the swell of your hip, gray hues sparkling with a semblance of mirth.

“It wouldn’t,” Cregan mused, timbre dropping to a lull, a husky octave that seemed to envelop you in its stoicism and warmth. “It pleases me to know that Lady Stark possesses the appetite of a dragon.” His teasing made you squirm, but he simply caressed you and held you closer.

With a coy smile, you lifted your head, pressing your lips against his, asserting your still-lingering desire for your husband. “Not a dragon,” Your tone softened with a sweeter resonance. “A wolf.”

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not steal my work and claim it as your own or translate it onto other platforms.

[mickandmusings]

sincerity & sonnets

-

pairing: anthony bridgerton x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: anthony bridgerton is blessed with many things-a warm, loving family, a well-funded lifestyle as a viscount, a beautiful wife. more notably, he is cursed with a short fuse and a sharp tongue, which might lead to his demise.

(based off of this request! to the anon who requested, I sort of wrote the argument as more of a sharp remark, but i hope it is still angsty enough for your liking! <3)

warnings: angsty->fluffy, no other warnings

-

As Anthony sat at his desk, scribbling away at his numerous piles of papers stacked in front of him, he noted the unusual quietness that had fallen on his study. He first thought that he had shut the door, but one quick look at the doorway contradicted his beliefs. Anthony's eyebrows furrowed in confusion-his home was never quiet.

Between his own family, and the families of his four sisters and three brothers, his home was full of life: laughter bounding off the walls, his wife and sisters' voices chatting over tea, the stampeding footfalls of his hoard of nieces and nephews assured his ears would never grow accustomed to utter silence. Even in the rare occurrence that the house was empty save for Anthony and his beloved wife, he'd often hear her humming to herself as she attended to her own business in their home, or she would join him in his study, writing her own correspondences at the smaller desk next to his own. Which is why, now, as he sat at his desk this afternoon, the silence stunned him. Anthony frowned, lifting his pocket watch to assure himself he was not entirely losing his mind. As the gold clock stared back at him, the small hand signaled it was midday.

He chuckled to himself, his wife must have chosen to sleep in entirely too long. Y/N was a chronic night owl, often keeping Anthony awake with her bedside chatter and comments on the appearance of the night sky through the window that faced their bed. Anthony would indulge her, but would still wake before the sun. His wife, however, would not budge for several more hours. He grinned and pocketed his watch, pushing himself up from his chair to wake his sleeping beauty of a wife.

Anthony bounded up the stairs two at a time, nodding curtly at any house staff before reaching their shared bedchambers. His dark eyes peer into the empty bedroom-his wife certainly was not here. He noted the dutifully made bed, the open curtains allowing the sunlight in, and, most importantly, his wife's absence. Anthony shook his head briefly before dashing back down the stairs, nearly stumbling into one of his wife's handmaidens.

"Pardon me," he addresses the woman with a sigh, a bit breathless from the unexpected goose chase his wife has taken him on. "Do you know the whereabouts of my wife?"

The younger maid looks at Anthony almost confused, but quickly takes on a professional tone:

"The Viscountess is reading in the garden, she's only just gotten back from tea with the Dowager Viscountess and the Duchess."

Anthony nodded in thanks, hastily departing for their expansive garden, his mind racing. Seeing his wife was an afternoon ritual-she would come bounding into his study after tea with his mother and respective sisters, spouting off all of the new ladies' gossip as he listened intently, all while pretending he was entirely disinterested. He enjoyed seeing her eyes grow wide with the shock of scandal, or her smile at a sweet interaction she witnessed at the park. If you were to ask Anthony Bridgerton, there was no sight more splendid than his wife in all of her extraordinary, everyday beauty. Not that he would admit that aloud, at least not to anyone but her.

Frankly, he was missing her presence today more than he cared to admit. He spotted Y/N almost instantly, her periwinkle gown shining in the sun. She sat in a chair politely under a shady tree, the book on her lap seemingly forgotten. Her expressive eyes locked onto the treeline in the distance, her face solemn. Anthony's heart seemed to fall in his chest, the sinking realization of why his home had been so soundless for the entirety of the day. His chest felt tight as he thought of his actions last night...

-

It had been a very, very long day for Anthony. With Francesca's upcoming debut to society, his mother had been harping on Anthony for nearly a fortnight about every minute detail. His patience for his mother was infinite, but sometimes she did manage to test its limits. Atop this hurdle was the never ending stacks of paperwork littering his desk, waiting to be looked over and signed off by his barely legible scrawl. He had neglected to write Colin back for weeks-his younger brother writing about his travels in Greece. The house staff had been in and out of his study all day, the incessant knocking severing his nerves. The heavy weight of life as a viscount was falling on Anthony, making him irritable and exhausted. His dear wife had settled his discomfort around lunch, bringing his nearly-cold meal into his study to make sure he ate. She had left him with a chaste kiss and a better mood, but Anthony had returned to her worse for wear.

Dinner in their large dining room had felt unnaturally dreary, only the sound of utensils clanking against china plates filling the air, only to be stifled by his wife's chatter. Normally, Anthony would've listened attentively, enjoying hearing about trips to the modiste or how Portia Featherington had driven his wife to near madness. Today, however, her voice had him pressing his nails into his palms to aid his irritation. He sipped his wine and shuffled his food on his plate to avoid making eye contact, he would not want her to see the frustration lingering in his eyes.

"Eloise was completely beside herself, I had never seen her so embarrassed! Madame Delacroix-"

"Must you talk so incessantly?!" Anthony's voice spat out in a low growl, dripping with fierce vexation.

Y/N's eyes grew wide, looking at her husband as if he had sprouted an extra arm and slapped her with it. She said nothing, only cowering in on herself, staring down at her lap as she fidgets with her hands. After several moments of Anthony's intense silence, she lifts a shaky hand and wipes the tears forming in her eyes as she hastily made her way out of the room, attempting to put as much distance between her and Anthony as possible.

Anthony followed suit moments later, feeling angry at himself as he slammed the door of his study shut, falling asleep at his desk hours later. Y/N had slept on her side of a bed far too large for one, her eyes tender and cheeks splotchy, her mind racing. Did she truly talk too much? Had he been annoyed by her daily talks for all these months? Her mind weaved small details into a full blown breakdown, and she quickly settled on being Anthony's perfect, quiet wife as she caved to her drowsiness.

-

The wind blew his wife's curls against her shoulder as Anthony approached her in the backyard, her back still facing him. He wasn't sure she had even heard him approach, her eyes still focused on the landscape sprawled before them. Anthony shuffles nervously, his hands behind him as he stands at her side, only the wind and birds chirping aiding the suffocating silence.

"Splendid weather we're having," Anthony's voice finally spoke, awkward and fumbling into casual conversation as he sank into the chair across from him. Y/N said nothing, only blinking in the same direction she had been staring at the entire time. Anthony nodded, mostly to himself, resigning himself to her silence, it was what he deserved at the moment.

After several moments of dead silence, Y/N turned her attention back to the book perched in her lap, and Anthony sat silently, wanting to spout out his apology in a hurried, bumbling manner, but he knew his wife, she would simply nod and continue reading, allowing herself to stew in prolonged silence.

He rose quietly, leaving with a small kiss landing atop her head-a touch that burned Y/N's skin. She watched Anthony leave out of the corner of her eye, sighing heavily as his presence was back inside their home. She was a myriad of feelings: angry at Anthony for being so blatantly cruel, his words had stung and left her reeling for hours. She was sad, as much as the words had fired her up, they had torn her heart, leaving her chest heavy with dejection. Y/N was nearly bursting at the seams to just apologize-even if it wasn't her who needed to apologize-just so the awkward encounters would come to an end. She wondered if Anthony even felt remorse at all.

In his study, Anthony ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, attempting to focus on the business papers in front of him. His efforts were fruitless-all he could think of was the empty look on Y/N's face. He had never seen her this lifeless, like her glow had been snuffed out, and it was entirely his fault. Anthony's mind raced with a million different scenarios of how he would make this up to her, ranging from flowers to begging on hands and knees, but despite his blunders, he knew his lady well. His Viscountess had never been one for showy things or frivolous purchases, she would only want his sincerest apologies. He would do it tonight, over dinner, he decided. He only hoped when the time came, she would at least spare him a glance.

-

Hours later, at the dining room table, Anthony found himself sitting in his chair at the head of the table completely alone. The kitchen staff came and left with plates and glasses, but his wife had yet to make an appearance. Anthony's foot tapped against the floor in anxiety, his eyes shooting up to the closest staff member, nearly shouting:

"Where is the Viscountess taking her dinner?"

The head of the kitchen staff looked at Anthony wide-eyed at his outburst, replying politely:

"Viscountess Bridgerton took her dinner in the library tonight."

Anthony said nothing, rising from his seat and walking down the hallway, coming to the door of the library and knocking lightly.

"Come in."

Anthony nearly burst into a fit of tears, happy to hear her voice.

He pushed the door open, Y/N's eyes meeting his before they dropped back down to the open book in her hands. Anthony felt guilt press heavy on his chest. He settled into the plush chair opposite her, separated only by a small end table. Anthony looked over at her, his brown eyes all but practically begging her to say something to him.

"Y/N..." Anthony's voice is small and timid, trying to coax her into at least hearing him out. Y/N's voice came out a whisper, cutting him off.

"I am sorry."

Anthony furrowed his brow, that was certainly not what he was expecting to hear. He looked over at her, her gaze locked on the moonlight coming through the window, her eyes glassy with tears.

"I am sorry I have become a burden, Anthony. I did not realize I irritated you with my ramblings. I thought you wanted to hear of my daily activities. I know my day as a woman is not nearly as riveting as yours as a Viscount, but-"

"My dear, your apologies are not necessary," Anthony's voice dripped with sincerity, his eyes warm as he looked at her, ready to grovel for forgiveness. He stuck his hand out for her to take, which she did. He pulled her towards him softly, his gentle touches coaxing her into his lap. Y/N's eyes grow soft under his gaze, her limbs melting in his strong hold. "I am the one who has been a fool. I look forward to your ramblings, no matter if they hold what you consider to be valuable or not, they brighten my day. I wait most ardently for news of trips to the modiste, or my mother's ramblings over tea-" He pauses, tucking a stray curl back behind her ear, his thumb wiping away the stray tears on her cheeks.

"I don't want you to be silent. Your voice is more pleasant than any other sound," Anthony cuts himself off, sighing, before starting again. "I should not have spoken to you in such a manner. I should not have raised my voice at you. You have my word that it will never happen again, I cannot go another day surrounded by your silence, it is torture."

Y/N smiles slightly at her husband's words, his transgressions forgiven with his sincere words. His face is close enough to hers to brush her nose against his, their lips close enough to meet.

"Are you certain you were not a poet before we met, Lord Bridgerton?" Y/N's voice is a whisper, the moment feeling far too intimate for anything else.

Anthony chuckles as his hand grasps the side of her face lightly, bringing her closer, speaking before he kisses her deeply:

"Only for you, my beloved...you inspire sonnets."

-

[tenjikyu]

So! My birthday's coming up here soon, and as you know, I am very obsessed with tokyo revengers. Therefore, here is my first request to you :)

How about headcanons on how mitsuya, sanzu, angry, smiley, and mikey would celebrate reader's birthday? preferably romantic but platonic is okay too. If you don't want to write all of them, you can choose a few to get rid of. These guys are my favorites so I couldn't not include them ♡

Sorry if there's not a lot of info to go off of!

— 🎭

𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴!

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ multiple x gn!reader, excessive fluff and humour, we love the toykorev boys they’re adorable, i hope you like ghibli because it’s referenced in angry’s.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ happy birthday !! it took me a hot minute bc i needed to re-remember the tokyo rev characters and their personalities but i’m back on track now people. i was worried about getting this out late so i ended up removing smiley from the request but i did my best for everyone else(i’m very sorry 😭). I REALLY HOPE YOU GET THIS BEFORE YOUR BIRTHDAY AND IF NOT, HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY 🎭 ANON

takashi mitsuya.

༄ takashi could NEVER EVER let your birthday JUST be your birthday, he always does something extra special for you on your special day.

༄ it starts off with a special birthday morning call, an online kiss and a promise to take you out at 10:00.

༄ mitsuya lets you enjoy a nice breakfast with your family if you wish to, and comes to pick you up after you’ve gotten ready for the day ahead!

༄ pulling up on his motorcycle, he gives you your special helmet (that he chose in your favourite colour), and takes you for a morning bike ride around the city.

༄ he eventually leads you to a serenic park with good shade and sun leaking through the trees.

༄ no matter if your birthday takes place in a warm or cold season, mitsuya makes the best of a picnic in the park! he brings beverages and home baked goods that his sisters helped make just for you!

༄ mitsuya is the type to make something personal and thoughtful, so i believe a birthday gift from him would include a heartfelt letter, special chocolates, and a crochet stuffed animal with a bow on it! he prides himself in his efforts, seeing the huge smile on your face as you open your special gift.

༄ he takes you back to his home, in which you’re overrun by his younger sisters who were elated to see you. you’re their favourite person (besides their big brother), so it was hard to wrangle them off of you.

༄ mitsuya makes you your favourite dish as a birthday dinner, where all four of you sit down and ramble on about your day, as well as anything that comes to the two girls minds.

༄ as the end of your birthday approaches, luna and mana have to be pried off your leg with whines begging you to stay the night. once you’re out the door however, mitsuya tells you he wants to walk you home.

༄ once he drops you home, he kisses you goodnight and makes sure you’re in doors before he walks off, silently fisting the air in success on your special day.

manjiro sano.

༄ i don’t think mikey would forget your birthday, but i can totally see him leaving plans to the last minute. he’s not a very organised soul after all.

༄ at the ripe time of 7:00 in the morning, you’re promptly awoken by a knock on your window. to your surprise, manjiro was wide awake (which is a rarity) and informs you that you will not be attending school today, but instead going on a “birthday adventure” with your “beloved boyfriend”.

༄ thankfully your family was planning to give you the day off regardless, so you rush to get ready (in your tired state as it is), and head out to meet up with your blonde boyfriend.

༄ as you walk out the door, you’re incased in a bear hug by mikey, as he excitedly shows off the silly little flowers he (didn’t) pay for. they were your favourite flowers, and they didn’t seem cheap, however you decided against bringing it up and enjoyed the fresh scent in the early breeze.

༄ much like mitsuya, mikey takes you for a drive, however this is because he’s taking you to an all-you-can-eat-buffet! manjiro tells you it’s because they have good breakfast & lunch choices, however you know it’s an excuse to stuff his mouth.

༄ regardless, the both of you enjoyed a nice breakfast together, before manjiro takes you onto the next phase of the birthday date.

༄ you’re surprised when he pulls up to the local aquarium, with two premium tickets in hand. by premium, you mean you get an exclusive front row seat for any show you wish to see, as well as close access to certain life living there.

༄ walking around the aquarium, manjiro sneaks cute pictures of you looking into the glass and admiring the life around you, from the illuminated jellyfish to the dolphins exhibit, your boyfriends eyes hardly left your face, making sure your smile lingered.

༄ after the end of the date, you head over to the little souvenir shop, where mikey buys you a plushie of your choice. of course, you attempt to deny but he won’t let you.

༄ by the end of your date, manjiro drops by his home so you can see his sister. elated, emma jumps into your arms and welcomes you in, where she makes everyone a special dinner for you all.

༄ on the drive back to your home, manjiro silently thanks whatever being graced his life with your presence, even when your fast asleep on his shoulder with drill beginning to dribble.

angry.

༄ a gentle soul like angry has everything planned out. he has his brother give him his honest (and brutal) opinions on how to make this the PERFECT date.

༄ your day starts off usually, your family celebrates your birthday and gives your your presents and a good breakfast, you get ready for school and you get a sweet good morning call from your beloved boyfriend.

༄ as you leave your house, you see angry parked outside your home, and he tells you that he’s gonna be your personal taxi driver to school today!

༄ like a true gentleman, he wraps your arms around his torso and gives you a helmet to protect yourself, he waves your family goodbye and sets off to your school.

༄ as the school day passes you by, you get another message from the man of the hour, letting you know he’s gonna take you out for the remainder of the day.

༄ you wave your friends goodbye, and meet up with your boyfriend, who greets you with his signature frown.

༄ as you ride around, you soon find yourself in what seems to be a ghibli café. you smile in excitement, rushing in to see what it looked like inside.

༄ a massive totoro plushie greets you, and you see all the ethereal artwork studio ghibli offers hung across the walls.

༄ you sit down with your boyfriend, and order some themed food based on your favourite movies. you see howls moving castle themed furniture, a no-face holographic hovering around, the production of ponyo explained on a little TV, as well as a little kiki on her broom flying around the café.

you get heaps of photos, however you boyfriend only admires the look of admiration on your face, knowing how hard it is to reserve a seat in this café.

after you enjoyed your meal, he takes you home once again on his bike, driving safely (for once) and drops you home, but not before gifting you a keychain of no-face you were admiring from the souvenir shop.

༄ your smile increasing in size, you clip it to your bag, before ksiing angrys cheek goodnight and running in doors.

haruchiyo sanzu.

༄ sanzu is a “actions speak lourdes then words” kinda dude, so he takes you out on a date to the museum!

༄ he wakes you up via ringing the doorbell, and being invited in by your mother (who dearly loves your boyfriend).

༄ sanzu shares a breakfast with your family, takes photos with you and then lets you go get dressed for your little date.

༄ as you enter into the museum, you see all sorts of preserved artworks and sculptures in your line of sight, filling your vision to the brim.

༄ regardless of this being your forté or not, the museum never fails as a good date spot.

༄ you go from room to room, carefully in taking all the information on the little plasters. from painting to painting, you find yourself immersed and drawn in, all the while your boyfriend held onto your hand.

༄ sanzu allowed you to go at your own pace, not caring much for it but knowing it was entertaining you, so it was enough for him.

༄ tugging him around like a dog, you find yourself in the museum for hours before you leave the premises. sanzu asks if you enjoyed yourself, and you giddily replied you loved it.

༄ you didn’t know it at the time, but he sniped a cute photo of you looking at a large painting and made it his personal background for his phone, admiring it as he took you to lunch.

༄ after lunch, sanzu informs you that he has business to attend to, but regrets it as soon as the dejected look crossed your face, hoping to spend the full day with him.

༄ without hesitation, sanzu lets you know it’s quick business that shouldn’t take an hour or so, and drops you off at a mall with your friends to enjoy yourself, and lets you know he’ll pick you up to drive you home.

༄ as the evening sets and you wave your friends goodbye, sanzu meets up with you. you rush into his arms, and he holds onto you dearly.

༄ he takes you in a late night drive as a way to make up for missing out on part of your day, however you reassure him that it’s nothing and allow him to ramble, something he rarely does.

༄ as he drops you home, you place a gentle kiss to his nose, and tell him you’ll see him later, leaving him slightly flustered.

༄ what have you done to him.

[vxnuslogy]

— a magician’s choice, one you already know.

pairing: lyney x gn!reader

premise: christmas was a holiday that goes uncelebrated in the hearth. but it didn’t have to be that way this year, not when you’re around.

— warnings: ooc-lyney (?), cheesy romance, tooth rotting fluff.

— author’s note: for the beloved admin of the writing server that gave me nothing but joy, to miss yona (@pneumosia), i hope you enjoy dancing with a charming magician :) 

— tags:@ryescapades @mitsvriii @https-sourlimes @dazaisms ; if you’d like to be tagged, please fill out the form on my pinned or send me an ask off anon!

christmas was a holiday rarely celebrated in the hearth. everyone would either be too busy with tasks or in mourning. the job of being a father’s favorite had its pros and cons, and to lyney, the cons weigh heavier than the pros. but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to try. not when you had gleefully recounted tales from when you were still a child, untainted by the fatui and his father. you detail the lights hanging from every nook and corner of your old home, a massive tree in the center with a bright star, and the warm hot cocoa drank by the warm fireplace. lyney knew he wanted to experience that with you and the rest of his siblings. and thus began his mission of trying to convince the knave.

the first few missions were a  perilous battle between father and son. the knave caught on quickly with the children’s hopeful stares and overheard conversation. she had once caught sight of a defeated lyney with his head on your lap as he tried to strategize to get her to say yes. father took it upon herself to start leaving the hearth at the cracks of dawn and overstay her welcome in the palace. most times, she’s met with a victorious sight of you laying a blanket over lyney’s body by the fireplace.

the magician pondered—all pouty and frustrated—on why you didn’t try to convince the harbinger yourself. you merely replied with a simple shrug of your shoulders, “if she’ll listen to anyone’s wishes, it’ll be yours.” with your words, lyney felt his heart burn with a new fervent hope. and the following day, he woke up earlier than father and waited for her arrival in the dining room with fresh plates of breakfast and hot cocoa from your secret book of recipes as bait to try and lure the predator out of her den.

now, you already wake up earlier than the rest to help freminet cook breakfast. so color yourself surprised when you enter the kitchen and are met with the sight of plates of food already prepared. “by the gods, did a miracle crash upon us?” you ask with an amused lilt to your voice. from the pantry, you see lyney’s head poke out. lilac eyes from spring bloom with a newfound emotion you can’t quite put a finger on as he called your name—victorious and high spirited.

the magician bowed his head, hand to his heart, and reached for your hand to press a soft peck to your knuckles. you ignore the burning in your cheeks and the way a grin threatened to spill from your lips as he pulled you close. one hand in his, the other on his shoulder as he laughed and pulled you to a dance. his overdramatic theatrics stole a breathy laugh from your lungs as he waltzed to the dining room with you and sat you down in the seat usually reserved for him.

“a miracle indeed has graced our humble abode.” he sat in the seat right across from you and started putting food on your plate, all the while he hummed an all too familiar tune under his breath. you furrow your brows in confusion, lyney already acted over the top everyday, but the tune he hummed and his eagerness to welcome the other children for breakfast bugged you.

you stopped mid chew of your breakfast when the realization hit you like a bright star dead in the face, “you convinced father.”

all clattering of utensils ceased as all heads turned to you and the cheshire cat grinning in front of you. you laugh, in disbelief and excitement as the other children flooded his side, all bombarding him with questions if he truly did.

“now, now,” he sat everyone down in their proper seats before leaning over your (his) seat. arms folded over its elegant arch, tone accompanied with a pout as one of his hands slither to settle on your shoulder. “must you spoil my surprise, starshine?”

like a bomb reaching its final countdown, everyone cheered. white napkins with intricate embroidery of their names flew with the wind and everyone once again got up on their seats. poor father who had just entered the dining room was attacked with excited children, all asking her if a christmas party will truly ensue.

“how’d you do it?” you tilt your head back to meet the magician’s eyes. his hand traced from your shoulder to your jaw to gently cup it. fingers tentatively brushing the smudges of food at loitered at the corners of your lips. you feel a shudder go through you when he merely chuckles.

“it’s as you said, father listened.” he said in a hushed tone, as if your conversation was meant for only the two of you. “but if i were to really guess, your christmas spirit might’ve rubbed off on her.”

“how so?”

he smiled, all doting and tender, “you’re a lot more special than you think, starshine.”

—

christmas was never celebrated in the hearth, and it was never supposed to be. but this year is different, because the next father of the house is soft when it comes to his siblings and younger kids. 

for the past week, lyney has been rounding around the mansion, clad in a red jumpsuit and an itchy pretend beard and obnoxious santa hat. giggles and laughter rang as often as the children sang christmas carols. you had to painstakingly watch your siblings chop down a tree nearby and drag it to the living room. the minutes spent outside the blaring snow was worth it when lyney had handed everyone a cup of hot chocolate.

“no cup for me?” you joked with a tilt of your head. dusting off any remnants of snow on your person as lyney beams at you. you try to take a peek at the item he hid behind his back, but your little santa had side stepped quickly to avoid your hawkish gaze.

he puts up one finger and states a playful condition, “one cup for each of father’s subordinates you can name!”

you laugh, all warm and merry like the burning flames in the fireplace. lyney’s grin stretched further to the stars when you grabbed his hand and shook it firmly. a determined flicker of stardust caught lyney’s eyes as you proudly named every harbinger that arlecchino has worked with.

recounting each mission with fondness, neither you nor lyney noticed how you both sat down by the fire, relishing in stories father herself had once told you. 

how childe had cracked the ice forming over the lake and nearly drowned in ice water. from the corner of lyney’s eyes, he sees lynette sit down in one of the seats. legs tucked to her chest, a cup of coco in her hands as she wrapped the sweater you created tighter around her body.

the three of you laughed when the regrator had to remind father of the expenses she’d been spending on their behalf. freminet quietly sat by your side, pers on his lap as a small fond smile tugged at his lips. he let out a small chuckle when you reminded him how stubborn father was when she needed more funds to buy him new diving gear because the last one broke.

or that one time columbina decided to pay you all a visit and ended in a slight disaster. everyone wanted to hear her sing, so badly to the point you and lyney had to stop them from fighting for the spot right next to her. (also ignoring the fact that you both kicked each other’s legs and warded the other off. even the both of you wanted to hear the fallen angel sing.)

lyney feels his heart expand tenfold when more and more children decided to join you. one lay peacefully in your lap as you brushed her hair, others piped in to tell their own stories. he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at you the whole night–stories went in one ear and out the other–until you had to tap him out of his daydreams about you.

“so,” your voice was just above whisper. lyney feels electrified when your fingertips brush against his forehead as you push away his bangs. you stare at him with such stars in your eyes it makes him want to melt into a puddle beneath your feet. “do i get a cup of hot chocolate now?”

lyney doesn’t verbally say it at first, but he would give you anything you’d wish for. a rainbow rose from fontaine, a book from sumeru, or even the throne in the hearth, he would gladly give it up for you. he instead, takes your hand in his, as gently as he could—forever afraid he’d stain you with the redness of his hands—and pressed a soft kiss. he doesn’t mention the way your cheeks flush or how he could feel the upbeat of your pulse by his lips, all he did was smile and say:

“all the hot chocolate you want, starshine.”

—

getting your father to participate in your festivities was as hard as trying to bury an ever burning flame beneath layers of snow. the children don’t understand how lyney does it—how he doesn’t get so discouraged and just smiles, waiting for another time to try. because he knows arlecchino doesn’t have enough time for each of her children’s wishes.

“well aren’t you santa’s little helper.”

but the children don’t notice the twitch of lips whenever father closes the office doors nor how he clutches the little red hat tighter towards his chest. it was only and always will be you who notices the cracks of his perfected mask of joy and entertainment. 

he only nods in greeting, smile barely reaching the night sky as he quietly hangs the porcelain ornaments on the christmas tree. lyney feels a presence press up to his side and it doesn’t take long for him to succumb to your embrace. this was the thing lyney never really understood—just who were you to create cracks and dents on his walls with only just a breath? even now, as you murmur soft reassurances in his ears, he finds himself lost in a trance, following the soft glow of the fire’s embers he’s started to associate with you. 

“father will make time,” you whispered, hands caressing his hair as he huffs childishly to your chest. if you closed your eyes and imagined hard enough, you’d see a lyney pouting like a little boy as he kicked his feet. 

“but what if she doesn’t,” he tried so hard to remain indifferent to the situation, but he still failed—purposefully or not, he also doesn’t know. you just laughed, the sound so reminiscent of a childhood love he’s spent all his life pinning over.

“we’ll just have to wait and see.”

lyney wonders if you could predict miracles.

not long after your interaction by the tree, children of different ages raced down the stairs like a fleet of reindeers ready to fly across the sky to assist their beloved santa. lyney laughs as he seats everyone by the dining table while you and his sister hauled out the feast you had prepared earlier. everyone cheered and once they had their portions, gulfed down the food as if they’ve never eaten in years.

you were a great cook. but something about tonight’s dinner made it all the more special than usual. maybe it's the way you glowed with the christmas lights or when you held a finger up to your lip as you slide last minute presents by the tree. lyney loved seeing you like this—so merry and joyous. and he felt his skin tingle when you grab him by the wrist and tug him to the direction of the fireplace. 

you sat him down with the rest of the children and cleared your throat, “technically speaking, it’s not christmas for another six or seven hours. but i just know none of us can wait, so let’s start our secret santa!”

lyney scrambles to catch the gift carelessly thrown to his lap. he glared at lynette who only shrugged her shoulders as she came to receive your gift, she even stuck out her tongue at him. he rolls his eyes and pays attention to the person in front. he doesn’t notice his nervous fidgeting until you take his hand in yours. there was a brief moment of stillness, your palms lying face flat against each other before he pulled you in like a magnet. for the rest of night, your hands stay interlaced with his.

“to lyney,” freminet shyly said. arms outstretched with a gift in hand as lyney gasps dramatically as if he’d never known.

“for me?” he asked with a hand to his chest. “thank you, freminet. any gift from you is sure to be precious indeed.”

the younger brother smiled and gave him a short embrace before he cleared his throat. his eyes caught your eyes and he couldn’t help but think you were saying, “she’ll be here, trust me.” so with a deep breath in, lyney smiles and said:

“to father, who made this celebration possible.”

everyone gasped but not even a second later, laughter erupted.

lyney finds himself looking at you again, tired of staring at the cold door that remains unopened. with a firm nod and smile from you, he continues.

“it was rather hard to find a gift for her, i wanted it to be useful but still hold meaning, but also won’t break easily. something to remind you of me but also remind you i’m no longer a child needing your protection,” almost forlornly, lyney gazed at the small box wrapped in red, his signature black cat hangs by the edge of the ribbon with his name written with your favorite pen. he smiles, “but that doesn’t mean i’m ungrateful for the protection you’ve given me thus far. as your next successor—this house’s next king—i vow to protect it as you have all these years.”

lyney raised his head to the door once again when he heard slow clapping. his eyes quickly found yours as you grinned. the tips of your lips reaching the moon as arlecchino slowly made her way towards him. children flocked by her feet like little baby chicks as she patted lyney’s head. he feels his cheek flush by the sudden affection, how long has it been since father had done this?

“thank you, lyney,” she muttered, a hand stopped at his shoulder as she slowly looked at everyone in the room before it settled on you. “unfotunately, i have no grand speech like your older brother, but i do hope you find enjoyment with my gift, [name].”

lavender eyes of spring caught the glint of gold under the christmas lights. as you gracefully stood up to receive her gift, you stare at the old rusting key in curiosity. lyney felt a nudge at his side and when he turned to look, arlecchino had whispered to his ear, “just tonight, i will allow you to enter the gardens past bedtime. just be sure to lock the gates when you’re done.”

he beams, like the fresh morning rays of sunlight. “thank you, father!”

arlecchino gently pushes lyney towards the door of the garden as she ushers you over. she whispers something in your ear as red flushes your cheeks. lyney feels his throat close on itself as you look at him from over father’s shoulders with a bashful smile. you hug her, tight and lovingly, before running up to his side.

like the north and south poles, you find your hands already in his as you both run towards the garden. bubbling laughter echoing into the dark hallways you both once feared as children. 

“are you ready?” he asks, one hand on the handle, the other still in yours as you nod. he guides your hand to place the gold key on the rusting lock. the cold winter air greeted your skin, the harshness of it has you closing your eyes as lyney tugs you in towards the center.

you feel something warm land on your cheeks as an arm wraps around your waist. when you try to open your eyes, a palm shadows over them and you feel lyney’s warm breath by your ear with a small request, “keep your eyes closed for now, my dear. it’s not time yet.”

you chuckle and nod. you lift both your hands up as the other trails up his shoulder and ready yourself for a dance. lyney hums and the first step is taken. he twirls you with care, a secure hand at the small of your back. even under nothing but the light of stray fireflies and the moon’s glow, lyney is breath taken by the sight of your hair catching snow and the way your face flushes under the cold. 

“you look beautiful,” he mutters just a breath away from your lips as he presses your foreheads together. 

“is this your gift? a recreation of our first dance when we used to be kids?”

the hearth loved you, not just because you were strong, but because of your love for small details. you remember everyone’s favorite color, the utensils they always use in the dining room, delicious food that satisfies their cravings, and memories they hold dear. you are simply timeless, and lyney loves you until he takes his final breath.

“must you always spoil my surprises?” you laugh at him like you did when you were kids. once afraid of the dark walls of the house, preferring the hide behind the shadows of your eyes until lyney makes you double over in laughter.

“you’re not very secretive. everyone in the hearth already knows what you got father.”

he sighs because of course you noticed. “well, you simply make it hard to keep things a secret. not when you repay me with that smile of yours.”

“since when did you become this cheesy?” like the morning dew, a smile erupts from your face and lyney feels his heart leap straight into your arms.

“since i started loving you.”

“and how long has that been?”

he takes a minute before confessing, “since forever.”

you open your eyes just in time for lyney to pull you impossibly closer. he takes both your hands in his and presses a soft kiss on your knuckles. you let out a quiet gasp when you notice the item weighing down on your finger.

“father told me once,” lyney tells you with hearts in eyes. “that if i ever wish to leave the hearth to run away with a beloved, she’d allow it. but you wouldn’t.” he tilts his head at your silence but smiles, “you learned how to love every cracking wallpaper and paint in this house to leave. like father, you wouldn’t hesitate to give up anything for the sake of everyone’s protection. so, under the watchful gaze of sneznhaya’s winter, i ask of you,”

lyney slowly drops to one knee, one hand behind his back while the other continues to hold the hand with the glimmering ring on your finger.

“[name], if given the choice to stay with me in these walls for eternity, would you be willing to—”

you don’t let him finish as you dive straight into his arms. lyney lets out a grunt as you both fall on the snow. your head finding solace in the juncture of his neck as you whisper.

“you’ll always be the choice i choose, lyney.”

you feel his arms tighten around you as his head drops to your shoulder. his own shaking as he laughs and ruffles your head.

“by the gods, must you always ruin my surprise?”

© VXNUSLOGY 2024 — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate works without the knowledge or consent of the creator in other platforms or websites.

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

Sonic x male reader that is Sonic’s bisexual awakening, I just wanna see him in denial over his first boycrush <33

“Woah, I’m Bisexual! I Didn’t Know That!”

Pairing: Sonic x Male Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: Sonic always thought he was straight. I mean, he’d never been in a romantic relationship before, but to him, that was besides the point. Until you came along.

Notes: Ahhh, LGBTQ+ stuff, my beloved. I will always take Sonic being a bisexual disaster on my bingo card. Hope you enjoy!

(Reader will use He/Him pronouns.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Sonic never once thought he wasn’t straight.

…He had never been in a romantic relationship before, but that didn’t matter, did it?

Surely not!

Boy oh boy, was he wrong.

It was a typical day for Sonic; he was taking a stroll through the forest (not running, I know, what a shocker), when a shadow loomed above him, catching him out of his thoughts.

Turns out a giant, flying Egg-Robot was above him, about to ambush him, but before it could, it was knocked away by a large…mallet?

The robot staggers, shaking its head before looking towards its attacker.

You.

You called your mallet back to you, holding it in a fighting position.

“Hey, ya big bully! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” you ask it.

The Egg-Robot flies towards you, trying to attack, but you jump out of the way, landing on a tree branch above the robot.

The robot looks around, confused, only for you to jump down and smash it with your mallet, scrap flying everywhere.

You let out a whistle, looking at the destruction, before going over to Sonic, swinging your mallet over your shoulder.

“You good, blue?” you ask him.

“O-Oh, uh, yeah! Thanks for the save!” Sonic says, giving a thumbs-up, really hoping his face isn't red. Why is his heart beating so fast?!

“Heh, no problem. Always happy to help someone in need,” you tell him.

You pull out a piece of paper and a pen from your bag, writing down something before giving it to Sonic. “Call me if you need help again. See you around, cutie.”

You give Sonic a wink before heading off, leaving a red-faced Sonic to figure out what just happened.

“C…Cutie?” Sonic questions.

Looking down at the paper, it seems to have two things written on it; your name, and your phone number.

Oh, he has got to call that when he has the time.

(I’ll write a part two if someone requests it!)

[linklethehistorian]

arbre de chienne

!!! My beloved! Have you returned from the war?! Hiiiii 💖💖💖💖💖🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰💖💖💖💖 This is indeed your bitch tree!! 💖

I love you! Thanks for stopping by sweetie 🌸

[hhonghu]

Pretty boys showing off their midriff,,,, currently going feral

Heizou's here too because of his shirt, giving me glimpses of his waist like that

[Thirst]!

feral anon my beloved bc why?? why are they dressing slutty and showing us their waists as of we don't wanna do unspeakable things to them >:(

i can imagine heizou pretending to be coy, wanting to lure you in of what he was wearing. see how he wears a literal shirt with open sides?? don't tell me this is for you to have easy access on him. he'll even tease you too, pulling his shirt a bit to the side so you can catch a glimpse of his nipples, already hard and puffy. you snap. you would come up behind him and put your hands under his arm to the holes of the side of shirt and grab his chest. he would act startled, muttering "what a pervert you are, just grabbing me like that.", "shut up, slut." you growl, signaling to lift his arms. you begin to toy his nubs, pinching and pulling while he moans, a ditzy smile on his lips as he feels sparks of please. he grinds his ass back to your, trying to feel more from you. "quit that, better have not tested my patience or you could've gotten more." heizou whines, wiggling his hips in dismay. "i'll keep playing with these," you pinch hard, making him mewl out your name. "all i want, so deal with it."

for aether, our beloved aether, he teases you with his stomach. especially after defeating an enemy, sweat would be running down his stomach and you would just stare. with his outfit, you can't help it, it just has your mind running. and he knows it. he knows how his exposed stomach riles you up and he likes it. he would push you back against a tree standing up and fumble with your pants, dropping it down and stroking your half-hard cock. "you were staring so much, [name]. what were you looking at?" he giggles, swiping his thumb across your slit. your eyes become hazy as he nudges your tip with his stomach, smearing pre-cum all over. "pervert. wanna cum on my stomach, don't you?" his strokes become faster on your shaft while feeling stimulation from your tip because of his stomach. you feel your legs wobble as your orgasm approaches, thrusting your cock in his hand. "that's right, [name]. cum all over me, cum all over my stomach.."

cyno.. just cyno. have you seen what he wears? hoyo missed the chance to make his nipples visible, he is literally not wearing anything even a shirt!! why can't they do that?? but i digress, because honestly ogle at him all you want, his body is too pretty not look at. so imagine finally camping to rest for the night after exploring the dessert with cyno. you get to rest after a long time of defeating and.. distraction. the entire time you two were fighting enemies, you can't help but sneak a glance of his body. his biceps, his waist, his chest? you were holding on to the last straw of focus you had or you might've just ended up jumping him instead. so while you two were resting, you passively said to let you use him for the night since you barely focused and almost got killed multiple times (pathetic excuse yes but its effective) and surprisingly, he agreed. you didn't waste any time, pushing him down on the sand and straddling his chest while he watches you, curious what you'll do.

you undo your pants and take your cock out, stroking it. "haahh— you don't what you were doing to me out there, cyno. you got to cover up sometime or i might just pounce on you out in the open." what you said made his eyes widen and his face suddenly felt warm. "how vulgar." he mutters as you eying his nipples. you pressed the tip of you cock to one of his hardened nubs, circling it around as you kept stroking your shaft, making you groan. his back arches, eyes watching you intently as your cock plays with his nipples and strokes your cock. he can't look away. you free hand comes up to his other nipple, tugging and pulling while you stroke yourself faster, making sure your tip keeps pushing to his nub and he whines, his hips writhing around. you feel yourself about to cum, getting you to pinch him harder. "[n-name], you're so nghh— filthy.. getting off to me like this. maybe i should keep mmmph— showing myself like this to you.." you give pull on on your cock and groaning as you cum, spilling it all over his nipple and chest. you catch your breath and look at cyno and his mouth was in a frown. he grabs your cock and pulls it, "i was expecting you to cum in my mouth.. so do it again."

hehehehe i had something in mind with cyno and honestly it was probably bc of a twt vid i saw or smth lol . thank you for anon again for the food! <33

[teyamsgrl]

i’m having neteyam brain rot again after like a couple months help me please

angry sex with adult neteyam is making me squeal

ANON I LOVE YOUR MIND ASK AND YOU GET IT 👏🏻

also thanks for being my first request 🫶🏻

make me forget ✧ neteyam

❗️MDNI ❗️

°˖➴ warnings: fem omatikaya reader, agedup!neteyam, dom!neteyam, kinda jealous/possessive!neteyam, ofc angry sex, spanking, sir kink, some hair pulling/choking, dirty talkkkkkkk - yawne: beloved, sevin: pretty

after adding the last bead, you tie off your braid and stand up to head out. tonight there was a special celebration with the entire clan, and you were super excited. you were extremely social and enjoyed gatherings. you were also the mate of neteyam sully, which you thought was the best thing about you. to sum it up, neteyam was your world. his mother had asked for his help earlier which is why you were headed to the celebration without your mate. even after all this time of knowing each other and being mates, your heart still fluttered knowing you would get to see him and kiss him in just minutes.

you arrive to the tree of souls and smile seeing all of your fellow omaticaya people dancing and talking. you scan the crowd, eyes landing on neteyam standing with kiri and lo’ak. you make your way over, slipping through the crowd of people. "yawne" he smiles, arms wrapping around your waist as he hugged you in tightly. you threw your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. “hi teyam”. you look over to kiri and lo’ak fake gagging, causing you to giggle and pull away from the hug. "you skxawngs" neteyam says and shakes his head before he pecks your lips. "did you have a good day?" you nod and smile, pecking his lips again. "do you want a drink?" you ask, gesturing to the group of women pouring drinks for everyone and handing them out. "sure, thanks sevin" you smile and head over to the women, asking for two drinks.

"hey there" you turn to spot ät’uk, an omaticaya man who is known for his massive crush on you. neteyam absolutely despised him and honestly you were shocked he has not gotten the hint yet. you step back a bit to add more space between you two, "hey ät’uk". you grab the drinks and thank the women, going to walk back to neteyam before you feel a hand on your shoulder. "y/n, you look really pretty tonight" you have to hold back an eye roll, “thanks, but i have a boyfriend” you smile out of spite and go to turn again. “sure, but you’ve never even given me a chance" ; this time the eye roll happens. "yeah and i’m not going to. i am happy with neteyam and i have no interest in giving you a chance. you’re a nice guy but-" you are cut off by the feeling of a familiar hand on your hip. neteyam. "ät’uk.. are we going to have a problem here?" you lean into neteyam, thankful he has saved you from this uncomfortable and honestly repetitive conversation. "no, not at all" he takes a sip of his drink nervously. "good, but next time a woman tells you she has a boyfriend and isn’t into you, maybe leave her alone" he spits as his tail swishes rapidly, pulling you away. your heart is racing at neteyam’s words. it is not often you see him angry, but it was honestly kinda hot. oops.

you reach kiri and lo'ak and neteyam snatches the drinks from your hands, passing them to his siblings. "here, be safe" he nods at them before pulling you out of the crowd and in the direction of your shared tent. "what's going on?" you ask as he drags you along, his strides very long and fast. once you reach the tent he pulls you in, instantly pressing you against the wall. "neteyam what-" he cuts you off by kissing you deeply, tongue gracefully sliding into your mouth, you hum, dragging your hands down his toned chest and abs. his hands travel to your ass, death grip on the perfectly round cheeks. he moans softly as your hands glide to the waistband of his loincloth, tugging it gently to ask for permission. you were wrapped around his finger and submitted almost immediately, especially since you knew he was angry. he pulls away, hand moving to hold your neck. "no cock sucking tonight, sevin. i need your pussy and i need it fucking now".

he growls, hand moving down and yanking your top off, beads tumbling from it and bouncing on the floor. he licks his lips and pulls your loincloth off, gliding his middle finger through your wetness swiftly. "good. over the table, now" he gestures towards the table on the other side of your tent. "yes sir" you hum and move to the table, bending over and hoisting one leg up on the table, ass basically asking for a spank. neteyam saunters over to you, loincloth being dropped in the process. he hums, a hum you can tell means that he is satisfied by your obedience. his hand drags along your ass before coming down hard, causing you to whimper. "you are mine", he spanks you again. "that fucking skxawng will never have you. ever", and again. "you got it?" he spanks you once more, "yes sir.. i'm yours" you whine out. "mhm.. that's right" you feel his tip kissing your entrance, waiting patiently to push in. "i'm gonna fucking use you in a minute, you're gonna make me forget how fucking pissed off i am" he breathes, thrusting his cock fully into your begging pussy.

"o-oh" you gasp at the full feeling, hands moving to grab the edge of the table before your wrists are snatched up by neteyam's large hand. "uh-uh, you know better" he pulls your hands behind your back, holding them hostage there within his grasp. he moans as he starts to follow a pace, fucking you deeper than ever before. his tip grazes your cervix as you squeal, back arching at the jolt the touch sent through you. "fuck yes... you're my good girl, aren't you? tell me who you belong to. who is fucking you this good?" he continues pounding you like there's no tomorrow as he speaks, moans escaping his mouth. "you, sir. you own me.." you whimper, head raising from the table. "that's right... and i'm the only man who ever gets to take you like this" he brings his free hand to press your head down on the table, holding you down. you whine, lying on the table as your mate destroys your insides. you can barely think straight, you are so unbelievably turned on. he groans behind you, hand gripping your braids and yanking you up so your back is flush with his chest. you gasp, leaning into him as he never stops thrusting; he doesn't miss a beat. "fuck.." he moans into your ear, causing you to throw your head back onto his shoulder. "you're such a good girl..." he moans again, hand gripping your throat now. "sir! sir!" you whine, pussy tightening on his cock. "cum for me. do it. cum for me and show me who your fucking mate is" he tightens his grip on your throat slightly, your body beginning to shake as your orgasm rushes to it's peak. "fuck fuck fuck!" you scream, coating his cock in cum. he groans and picks up his pace, you still moaning in pure ecstasy despite cumming seconds ago. "you're gonna be so full baby, so fucking full of me" he does one last thrust before his cum spills into your pussy, his moans music to your ears. once he catches his breath, he lets go of your wrists and throat, turning you around and placing you to sit on the table.

"you good, sevin?" he kisses your forehead, brushing the braids out of your face. "of course, nete" you giggle and cup his face with your hands, admiring his features. "did i help you forget how mad you were?" he chuckles and nods, "definitely, thank you. i just couldn't take his shit anymore. and you looked unbelievable so i figured ravaging you was a good idea" he chuckles more and you giggle along with him. you run your thumb over his bottom lip, "you're extra hot when you're angry, makes me think i should get you angry more often honestly". he bites your thumb gently and smirks; "don't test me, baby"

[comfortless]

to the anon who was talking about konig and the rule following intention thing: i love you. he seems cheeky like that. BUT i will also climb that big man and start strangling him if he entertained or led on the recruit.

idk, maybe its my rabies, but i would start whacking him grgrgrgrg. wrangle him till he acts right!!!!! (whatever that means)

i also love that anon! 🤭

Being instructed to “act right” for König is more or less the same as following any order at work. “Shoot that target.” is the very same as “Don’t glare at a stranger.” The differences between the König at home and the König on the field are subtle things. No bloodshed and rewards in the form of tenderness and orgasms instead. He’s less rigid, less focused, but still a soldier, the strangest one at that.

Everything is taken as directly as possible, because he’s not going to question any hidden meaning behind words. That’s silly. He always says just what he means, so shouldn’t everyone else?

There’s a lot he just doesn’t get, and your jealousy happens to be one of those things.

He would kill for you, lets you graze your fingertips over his favorite weapons, allows you to hold his face and even pretends that your staring doesn’t make his fingers twitch and sweat bead at his temples. König is loyal and so trusting with you… how dare you accuse him of worshipping some other woman in the same way? How could you even believe that?

Say you, his beloved, put together the pieces, realize that surely this woman is messaging your König during his leave for a reason. There’s an argument to be had, one that’s less of a screaming fit and more of a break down from both sides. You tell him through gritted teeth and tears that you know your intuition isn’t wrong: he’s done something, you just aren’t certain what that something is. There’s no outright accusation spoken, but his face immediately grows red and his eyes narrow.

It’s not that he even cares to question why you would think that way. He just wants to know where he’s failed. What is it that you need that he’s not already providing? He takes an awful picture of his cock each time he’s hard and away from you, even follows it up with one of the aftermath of thinking of you. No other woman makes him feel so starved.

He knows he isn’t very romantic; you would probably prefer actual dates instead of watching him train or following along like a cute accessory at the gym. But he brings you flowers, licks your cunt without hesitation, buys you feminine products and chocolate any time that you’re in need of them. Sure, each picnic date ends with your chest pressed against a sturdy tree or your thighs spread atop the patterned blanket, but the confessions hissed into your hair are true. It’s never just been sex, not to him. It’s love, and that’s one word he never seems to shy away from saying. He’s greedy, wouldn’t want something so simple, not after every moment you’ve spent together.

König might not get why you’re so into some new trend or show, but he listens when you talk about them. Or tries, at least. Really, he had no idea why you would bother explaining to him why you prefer a dress with wiry straps over something cozier when he arrives home, but he’s happy to just listen to your voice and shush you with kisses when he doesn’t know how else to respond.

You’re allowed access to his phone any time you like, even shows you his bank account to prove he hasn’t taken some lady a world away off on some expensive shopping trip or spent a curious amount at a pharmacy. In fact…. He’s barely spent anything while away, all of the transactions are from the last time he was on leave or at that cute little shop he had told you about and brought you home some shiny new gift from. There’s nothing suspicious to be found… except for those messages from the woman he tells you is just a recruit.

So… what if you’re just projecting?

To him, his own jealousy is righteous.

König almost looks scary when he’s upset, not that he would ever lay a hand on you. Maybe the coffee table will be in disarray, cleared entirely when the thought of you leaving proves to be far too much. His shirt suffers a few massive tears when he grips at his chest to show you just where you’re hurting him.

You may not have outright accused him, but König can’t hold his tongue when he asks you about this imaginary other man. Is he handsome? Does he buy you nice things? Does he make you come hard? How did you meet and just where does he live? Do you love him…?

König would try his utmost to hold back tears. He feels weak when he cries, and the last thing he wants is for you to view him as fragile. He’s supposed to protect you.

But it’s all gone in a flash. His entire being seems to relax when you explain to him that there is no other man. The unshed tears are wiped away, a heavy sigh leaves him when he rubs at his face. He feels like the worst idiot just stood there blinking in surprise while you’re still pissed, but at least that scenario proves to be untrue.

You just want to understand why he’s entertaining some other woman’s flirtations. Is that what telling some recruit she’s got sharp aim and allowing her to grasp at his arm and admire his muscles is..? He will admit that maybe he’s allowed her too much closeness, even if he never has and never will return her affections.

It baffles him entirely for a moment, slows his tongue enough to have a grin curl at his lips. It’s the most flattering thing in the entire world to think that you desire him so much that the thought of sharing makes you like this. The realization that maybe you’re just as territorial as he is is impossibly cute, makes him twice as obnoxious and overbearing when you’re pulled into his arms.

His voice takes an amused lilt when he asks you just what you want him to do about it. Cut her off? He’ll avoid her entirely if it appeases you. He doesn’t want to hurt a woman that isn’t an actual enemy, so killing her is certainly out of the question, but he can be scary if you would like that. She wouldn’t like him as much if she saw his face. He would remind you that only a silly thing like yourself could ever be keen on it. Your orders are absolute, so long as he still gets a treat in the end.