#young fertile female

[pantyhosetaboolover]

Any fertile pedomoms or pedo women out there to breed? Hmu!

[serpentface]

Two People Of the Midnight Sun guarding a snared hare against a juvenile sunsinger, a wolf sized mustelid that lives as an ambush predator and opportunistic scavenger in the arctic tundra and gets its name from the male's yowling calls during the springtime breeding season.

These people primarily manufacture small knives for skinning prey and bloodletting their host animals, and do not have weapons capable of dealing with large predators. Their primary defense in this situation is the tried and true predator mitigation strategy of puffing up and making a lot of noise. Like their caelin/delkhin relatives, polar caelin have gular sacs that amplify their calls, primarily used for long distance communication and song but also adequate for making a general cacophony.

This sunsinger physically outmatches its foes by a long shot, but is hesitant to get any closer to a pair of loud, unfamiliar, and seemingly fearless opponents, and quite frustrated about this whole situation. It will most likely walk away from this confrontation hungry rather than risk a physical altercation, particularly when reinforcements from these people’s clan hear all the yelling and come to dive bomb the shit out of it. 

[yuujispinkhair]

CollegeBoy!Sukuna accidentally knocking you up – Part 2 A

-> Option A: "I'm not ready to be a mom"

You can read Part 1 here

I decided to write two different versions of Part 2 (both are comforting). Option A: Reader has an abortion Option B: Reader decides to have the baby(s)

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. Light angst with a happy end. 2K words. Unplanned pregnancy, Reader has a surgical abortion. Everything goes well. Sukuna takes good care of Reader. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider@/plutism + dollsciples + benkeibear

Finding out that you accidentally got knocked up by your college sweetheart was definitely a shock. And it didn't end there because now you are faced with having to make a decision that has the potential to change your life forever.

You sleep a night over it and spend the next day going on a long walk with Sukuna, hoping the fresh air will help you clear your mind. It's when you sit down on a park bench and lean against Sukuna's biceps when you ask softly,

"So what are we going to do, Kuna?"

And Sukuna wraps his arm around you and pulls you against his side,

"It's your choice, princess. I will be there for you no matter what. I'm man enough to handle both. And ultimately, it's your body, so you should be the one who makes the decision."

It makes you love him even more.

Sukuna is usually a very dominant person, someone who likes to be in control. Seeing him hold back and give you the reins fills you with deep affection.

You have contemplated both options, glad that Sukuna made it clear that he won't run even if you want to have the baby. But in the end, there is one option that feels more right for you at this point in your life.

When you tell Sukuna that you want to terminate the pregnancy, he doesn't comment on whether this is what he would have decided or not but just pulls you into his strong arms and hugs you, tells you again that he will drive you to the hospital and be there for you all the way.

You practically melt into the comfort of his strong arms as you add softly,

"It's not that I don't want a baby with you, Kuna. You know that, right? It has nothing to do with you. I just think we are too young. I am too young. I don't want the stress of having to be a mom while I still go to college and have to study for exams and try to find a good job, etc. It already seems so much, and when I imagine also having to take care of a little baby, I don't think I can manage all of it, even with you by my side."

Sukuna smiles at you, not one of his smug smirks or flirty boyish grins, but a genuine smile, soft and tender, a smile that is only reserved for you.

"I know, princess. Don't worry your pretty head about this."

Sukuna is with you throughout the whole journey. He drives you to your doctor and insists on going up to the waiting room with you because he knows how nervous you are. He sits next to you, holds your hand, caresses your fingers soothingly, and grins reassuringly at you. He makes a flirty comment and winks at you when your name gets called, trying his best to make you laugh and feel less nervous.

But you know that he is nervous too. When you get back twenty minutes later, you can see that Sukuna is still on the same page of the book he started to read when you left. His mind obviously occupied with other things, just as affected by the situation as you are.

It makes you reach out and hug him tightly, comforting him just like he comforts you, even though he would never admit openly that this makes him anxious just as much as you.

"My doctor already made an appointment at the clinic for me to have another examination and to sign all the documents and stuff. But it's when you have training, so you really don't have to come with me."

But Sukuna rolls his eyes and shakes his head,

"What are you saying? Stop it, baby. Of course, I am coming with you. If I can put my dick in you, I can also accompany you to your appointment. After all, it's my apparently super-fertile sperm that got you into that situation in the first place! I'll skip training. It's not important. Nothing is as important as you are to me."

The next four days feel weird. You go to the examination at the clinic. You listen to the doctor explaining the procedure to you. You nod, you smile politely, and you sign several documents before you get sent halfway through the hospital to meet an anesthetic and sign more papers. They send you home with a sheet full of instructions on what to do before and after the surgery.

You spend the days until the surgery in a daze. Everything feels unreal.

But you aren't alone. Sukuna doesn't leave your side. It's almost funny how he follows you around like a puppy. The big bad boy, all sweet and doting.

On the day of the abortion Sukuna drives you to the hospital. He walks with you to the unit where the surgery will take place, and his large hand squeezes your smaller one so tightly it almost hurts.

You can see and feel how reluctant he is to let go of you and how worried he is about you, even though he tries to hide it and play it cool so as not to make you more anxious than you already are. But his hug is even tighter than usual, almost bone-crushing the way his strong arms tighten around you, and he pulls you against his tall, muscular body.

He kisses you, too deep and with too much tongue for the location, but you tilt your head to let him push his tongue even deeper into your mouth, craving his kiss and his love and the reassurance he gives you that way.

You leave towards the room where you are supposed to change, looking back over your shoulder one last time and Sukuna is still standing there in the hallway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his grey sweatpants, looking so cool with his tattoos and the pink hair. But you can see the tenseness in his broad shoulders and the worry on his tattooed face.

It makes your chest feel warm, and you can't help but mouth "I love you" in his direction, smiling when you see him say the words too.

Your surgery goes by without any complications, and the moment you wake up, a nurse is already by your side, bringing you tea and something to eat, and some painkillers. But you are impatient, wanting nothing more than to leave and be in Sukuna's comforting embrace, feel the warmth of his body and inhale his scent and hear his velvety low voice murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

You're glad when you are finally allowed to get up and get dressed again, promising the nurse that you have someone who will stay with you for the next 24 hours.

When you leave the changing room, you see Sukuna leaning against the wall right next to the reception. His tattooed face is a bit pale, and he is playing nervously with his tongue piercing once again.

His maroon eyes meet yours, and he is by your side in a second, a strong arm wrapping around your waist and carefully pulling you against his side, steadying you, holding you securely, making sure you won't fall. His lips press against your temple, lingering there for a long moment, warm and soft,

"Fuck. I'm glad you're finally out of there."

You can hear the strain in his low voice, can hear every ounce of worry and anxiety he felt during the last hours when he was sitting in his room, waiting for the hospital to call him and tell him, you are ok.

You lean gratefully against him, feeling a bit dizzy from the anesthetics, glad that you have your strong boyfriend to hold you.

"I'm so glad you're here, Sukuna."

"How are you, princess?"

"I'm good. Just a bit wobbly on my feet. And I need something to eat. I'm starving!"

And Sukuna laughs softly, sounding so relieved,

"Well, how lucky you are that your boyfriend spent the last few hours in the kitchen to distract himself and prepare your favorite dishes for you."

And suddenly, your sight becomes blurry as tears well up in your eyes and run down your cheeks without you even knowing why you suddenly start crying now that it's over when, in the days leading up to the abortion, you didn't shed a single tear!

But maybe all the stress and anxiety of the last few days finally caught up with you. The contradictory emotions of feeling a bit wistful about letting go of that fantasy of Sukuna and you having your own little family versus the relief you feel that it's over and that you can live your life the way you planned.

But you suspect that, most of all, it is the overwhelming love you feel for Sukuna right at that moment. You are so touched by how caring he is. How mature he was in this situation. That he didn't run, that he didn't leave you to deal with all of this on your own. He is so worried about you and does so much to make you feel okay. He is so strong all the time, so you have someone to lean on.

A sniffle escapes your trembling lips, and Sukuna's eyes widen. He pulls you against him, burying his face in your hair and murmuring soothingly to you,

"Hey, baby, it's ok. Everything's going to be ok. Don't cry."

Your hands are on Sukuna's broad chest, and you feel the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart through the soft hoodie he is wearing, comforting and reassuring.

"I'm ok, Kuna, I swear. It's just... I love you so much."

"I love you too."

His voice sounds tender when he says the words, and you snuggle closer to him, lifting your head to look at his beautiful tattooed face. And Sukuna leans down a bit, enough so he can brush his lips over yours.

That's how you end up standing in the middle of the hospital hallway, hugging your boyfriend and kissing him slowly as if the two of you are the only people in this world.

But you make it to the parking lot a few minutes later, walking there with the help of Sukuna's strong arm wrapped around you.

Sukuna is so gentle, so caring. He helps you into the car and puts on your seat belt for you as if you can't do it yourself. He stops at a convenience store to get some pads for you, jogging back to the car as if he is running from a crime scene because he is worried about letting you out of his sight even for a few minutes.

He helps you out of the car again, once you have reached your apartment, picks you up princess-style and carries you up the stairs. He sits you down on the couch, wraps you in a warm blanket and glares at you when you try to get up.

"Don't be a brat! Just stay right here and rest and let me bring you the meal I cooked for you with all my fucking love!"

He brings you the food and plops down next to you, checking if you really eat something, like some super stern nurse, and you can't help but feel warm, knowing that your bad boy is so amazingly sweet and caring when it comes to you.

The moment your face twists in pain, Sukuna is on his knees in front of you, fear in his maroon eyes, his large hands on your thighs, looking up at you with worry written all over his tattooed face.

"What's wrong?"

You grit your teeth and smile shakily at him, reaching out to cup his cheek and caress it tenderly, touched by how worried he is for you.

"It's nothing bad, Kuna. They told me I would get cramps after the surgery. It's perfectly normal! But it feels like really bad period cramps. They gave me some painkillers for that. Can you..."

You can't even finish the sentence before Sukuna is on his feet again, already walking over to your bag,

"I'll get them for you!"

You thank him, and he sits down next to you again, watching you the whole time with narrowed maroon eyes until you chuckle and reach over to ruffle his pink hair,

"I won't drop dead if you stop looking at me for one second, you know, baby? Eat something, too, I know you are hungry!"

"Don't joke about stuff like that, princess. I am just taking my job as your personal nurse seriously."

And he really does. For the next few days, Sukuna barely leaves your side. And even a week later, he is still acting differently around you, and you begin to realize that this is probably how he will always be now. Even more protective. Even more caring.

The unplanned pregnancy and the abortion didn't drive a wedge between the two of you. Instead, it made the two of you grow even closer. You shared a life-altering experience. Because even though you decided not to have the baby, it still will be something you will always carry with you. And you will never forget how Sukuna reacted. How he was there for you. How he respected your decision and how he cared for you.

You learned that Sukuna is more than just the sexy bad boy you can have fun with. He showed you that you can always count on him, that he won't run when real problems occur. You learned that if one day in the future you actually want to have a baby, you have a wonderful man by your side who would be a loving partner and a damn good dad.

You sigh happily as you lie in your bed with Sukuna behind you. He has become more cuddly since accidentally knocking you up. He wants to spend every night at your apartment or asks you to stay at his. As if he needs to hold you every night, keeping you safe and sound, wrapped in his strong arms, his buff body pressing against your back, and his lips trailing lazy kisses over your neck.

The two of you are living your regular lives again, going to classes, studying, going to training, to parties. No one else knows what happened to you. It's a secret between you and Sukuna because you both want it that way. No one else has to know. This is just something the two of you share.

A commercial for baby food starts playing in between two episodes of the crime show you are watching. A young family, mom and dad, and a tiny baby. And even though it's been weeks, it still makes you feel a bit weird to see it.

Sukuna's arm tightens around you. Maybe he felt you tense up, or maybe he had the same thoughts as you when seeing the commercial. Either way, his hand slips down to your belly, caressing it gently, and there's a smile in his low voice when he says,

"You know, it's not the end of it, princess, right? We can still have one.... when we are older. If we want."

You smile and snuggle against Sukuna's warm, muscular body. Your hand lands on top of his larger one, which is resting on your belly now, and you interlace your fingers with his, feeling the weird tension leave your body again.

"If I ever want to have a baby, it will definitely be with you, Sukuna."

I LOVE HIM 💗😭

Thank you so much for all the love on Part 1!! The story wouldn't leave my mind anymore, and after I got several comments and asks where people asked about a possible Part 2, I wanted to continue the story about College sweetheart Sukuna knocking us up and show how Reader and Sukuna deal with both options, so I decided to write two different versions.

I hope you liked Option A and that it could give you comfort.

Option B will be the version where Reader decides to have the baby (or rather babies lol). I plan to post it next week!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

You can find Option B here

[rafeandonlyrafe]

angel of a daughter

words: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, stepcest, stepdad!rafe, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virgin!reader, female receiving oral, fingering, breeding, fertility issues (from mother), reader is described as having big boobs, kinda pregnancy kink from rafe but more talk of sex while pregnant, cheating (no daddy kink)

“i got the results back.” your mom says, her voice low and sad, revealing her results with her tone alone. “the doctor says theres no way.” “i’m sorry, mama.” you pout, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. you hate that you feel a bit of relief. your mom had you young, a teenager knocked up by another teenager who ran off the second he heard his girlfriend got pregnant.

your mom raised you until you were a teenager yourself, doing everything by herself until your stepdad came into the picture. he inserted himself perfectly into your life, but expected to have kids of his own.

“whats the plan then?” you question as your stepdad comes into the living room, setting a glass of water down in front of your mom. you sit on either side of her, showing your support. “adoption? surrogate?” 

you like being an only child. you like it just being you, mom, and rafe, but at the same time, you want your mom to be happy, and if a baby gives her that, you'll adjust for her.

“actually…” rafe clears his throat. “we were hoping you’d be willing to help out.”

“yeah, of course.” you nod. “anyway i can.” 

you don���t realize what rafe means until later. you assumed it was just help researching adoption agencies, or finding a surrogate, but as rafe hovers over you, you realize he means to breed you.

“m-my mom can’t be okay with this.” you stutter out, body stiff against the bed, trapped as you blink up at rafe, body caging you over the mattress.

“she thinks you’re going to get inseminated.” he huffs out, breath warm against your face. “and in a way you are. a natural way.”

“i-i-” you stutter out. “i don't know about this.”

“come on, i see the way you look at me.” rafe shifts his weight to one hand, gliding down the other down your torso, squeezing your hip gently. “i know you want this.”

“you're married to my mom!” your eyes are wide, but a spark does ignite inside of you. “you're my stepdad!”

“and you’re going to be doing both of us such a big favor, pretty girl.” rafe coos, his fingers running along the material of your shorts, stroking closer and closer to your center every time.

“i-i guess it would be easier than going to a doctor.” you’re sure it involves waivers and legal shit that your mind just can’t even wrap around.

“exactly!” rafe smiles down at you, glad for your naivety. “besides, im making you feel good... you’ll get pregnant, and both of us will feel real good.”

“how many times will we get to do it?” you whisper, hands reaching up to touch rafes cheeks, running your finger down the smooth planes. “like, it probably won’t take the first time.”

“as many times as we have to babygirl. and i’ll take real good care of you during your pregnancy. rub your feet, buy whatever you are craving, eat you out.” rafe loves the way your eyes blow wide.

“thats not appropriate!” your mom has lectured you long and hard about sexual experiences and above all how important it is to wait so you don’t become pregnant young like she did. and now she is asking you to allow your stepdad to breed you when you’re freshly out of your teen years.

“its okay, its just you helping us out so im helping you back out in return.” rafe moves his hand up to cup your cheek. “let me show you.”

he leans down to press your lips together in a kiss. you lay frozen for a moment before beginning to move back, reciprocating the kiss as your hands fist into his shirt, tugging him lower.

you let out a moan into his mouth and rafe has to pull away to chuckle. “see, i knew you wanted me babygirl.”

“yeah.” you nod. “okay, lets do this.” damn the consequences, you can think about them later.

“good.” he coos out, lips back against yours quickly as his hand gropes at your breast, rubbing them through your tanktop. you’ve always been insecure about the size of your chest, but as rafe lowers down to look at them, you think about them in a whole new light.

“these are gonna feed our baby so well.” he says, tugging at the hem of your shirt, lower and lower until it breeches the swell of your breasts and they pop out the top. you don’t ask who he means by ‘our’. you can indulge in the fantasy that it’s just you and rafe. that your mom is still in the picture, but only in the role as your mother, not the one of rafes baby. 

rafe wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking deeply into his mouth, so in contrast to what it must feel like to have an infant feeding.

“i-more.” you gasp out as rafes fingers play with your other nipple, rolling and pinching at it until they’re both stiff peaks.

“i can’t wait to fuck you baby.” rafe says, helping you sit up just slightly to pull your shirt off, the small pajama shorts the only barrier you have left on your body. rafe also tugs his shirt off. you’ve seen him shirtless before in the pool or on your boat, but its different in this low lighting, so intimate and close. 

“gonna eat your pretty pussy first though.” rafe tugs your shorts down, your thighs pressing together to allow you to keep that part of yourself hidden for a moment longer, before rafe is pushing at your legs and slotting himself onto the bed in between them.

“aww.” rafe smiles, looking much more like a boy your age with his grin rather than your stepfather. “i knew she’d be cute.” his hands stroke over your inner thighs. “have you ever had a guy eat your pussy before?”

“no.” you shake your head. “never done anything with a guy.” you’ve kissed past boyfriends, but it never went beyond that.

“im gonna be your first?” theres a spark in rafes eye when he realizes that you’re a virgin. that he’s going to deflower you, fill you up. 

“y-yeah.” you nod. 

rafe wants you to cum once with his mouth and fingers first to open you up and get you wetter before he fucks you, so he wastes no more time, pushing his face forward between your legs, tongue swiping over your folds as you scream out in pleasure. 

rafe is glad as your moans increase with every flick of his tongue and glide of his lips that he chose to sneak into your room in a time when your mom was gone, off to the spa with her girlfriends, no doubt sharing to them her recent doctors trip and how her angel of a daughter agreed to be a surrogate so her and rafe could have a baby of their own.

“you taste so good.” rafe says. he isn’t one to enjoy giving head often, but you really are the sweetest taste on his lips. he focuses in on your clit as your entire body stiffens before relaxing, sighing out as your head becomes fuzzier and fuzzier with every touch of rafes mouth.

“do you touch yourself here?” rafe asks, pressing kisses to your clit, making out with it just like he did you mouth.

“no.” you shake your head. you occasionally grinded yourself into a pillow stuffed between your legs to get off when you got too overwhelmed, but you never reached your hand in your pants to feel yourself.

“what about here?” rafe brings his hand to your cunt, finger circling around your entrance.

your eyes widen again, that gloriously innocent startled look that has rafe grinding into the bed to give his cock some sort of relief.

“never!” you shake your head.

rafe just smiles, going back to focusing on your clit as his finger pushes in. you’re so wet it’s not difficult at all, but he can feel the way you squeeze around his digit, getting used to the feeling of the intrusion.

“relax for me, princess.” rafe says, sucking at your clit as he begins to move his finger in and out until he’s able to easily pump, the delicious squelching of your wetness filling the room with his every movement.

“gonna add a second, okay?” rafe talks you through the process, not wanting to do something to scare you into changing your mind. “gotta open you up for my cock, baby.”

rafe pushes a second finger into your entrance, working you open until he feels your body stiffen, his concentration going to your clit as he works you through your orgasm, your high so suddenly breeching that your body locks up and you let out a scream.

“shh, i got you.” rafe kisses along your mound as you work through it, pussy clenching around his fingers as he scissors them, knowing he needs you looser to fit inside.

“that-” you gasp out, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “that was so good.” “yeah?” rafe smiles up at you. “i can keep helping you feel that way, baby.”

“mhm.” you nod, not sure how you’ll ever go without now that you’ve felt the high that rafe can get you.

“can i fuck you now?” he questions. as much as he’s ready to go right now, if he has to build you up to allow him inside bare, he would wait.

“yeah.” your voice is dripping with eagerness. “yeah, yes please. just need a drink of water first.”

you sit up slightly, going to reach for your water bottle on your bedside table, but rafe moves quicker, helping you bring the bottle to your lips and suck the water down, pulling away with a gasp as a drop of water glides down your chin, reaching your throat before rafes tongue is on your skin, tasting the sheen of sweat as he follows the wet trail up to your lips, kissing you to keep your mind occupied.

he works his pants and underwear off while you’re wrapped up in the kiss, your hands stroking through his hair, playing with the strands. 

rafe moves your legs to wrap around his hips as he holds onto his cock, swiping it through your folds. he taps the head against your sensitive swollen clit, making you pull away with a gasp.

“stay nice and relaxed for me, baby.” rafe says, pressing kisses to your jaw as he lines up with your entrance. he pushes in slowly, your eyes clenching shut as your chest moves up and down with each breath, trying to keep your body relaxed like rafe said.

“there ya go.” rafe says, halfway inside your cunt. “good girl.”

he pushes as far in as your pussy allows, both of you sitting in that moment, relishing in the feeling of being joined together as you stretch to accommodate his large length, shifting your hips side to side and up and down to get used to the feeling.

“i gotta move, baby.” rafe says, his voice sounding strained.

“yeah, go ahead.” you nod. despite your affirmation, rafe continues to move slowly, his hips swinging back before pressing forward, carefully building up a rhythm.

“it feels really good.” you tell rafe, your cheeks flushed bright pink, hair fanned out on the pillow around you like a glowing halo.

“yeah, yeah.” rafe nods rapidly, his grip on control quickly loosening. “you feel so good too.”

rafe knows he should stop, but he loves the way your body reacts to his dirty words. “you’re so tight around me. i love this pussy. so much better than your mamas. gonna give me a baby, right?”

“i-yeah.” you nod. “fill me up.”

rafes loosening control shatters, his hips swinging forward fast, burying his cock inside of you as the pace instantly triples. you let out a squeal, the sheets gripped in your hands as he pounds into you.

“gonna fill up your pretty little cunnie, baby.” rafe grunts out, his own forehead sheening with sweat from his effort, his muscles straining as he pushes up then down, up then down.

“want it so bad.” you whine. 

“fuck.” rafe gasps out, mouth dropping open, his lips shiny from eating you out. “can’t last much longer. gonna cum.”

you experiment, clenching your pussy around his cock, and judging by rafes reaction of a loud moan and curse, you can tell he likes it. you continue, squeezing every time he pulls out, wanting to keep his cock wrapped in your warmth.

“i-im cumming.” rafe gasps out, his cock growing inside of you before your eyes widen, suddenly feeling warmth spreading as his cum fills you, his cock pressing in even harder, hoping it reaches your womb.

“god.” rafe groans, lowering his body on top of yours, but you don’t care about the weight as you smile.

“we’re gonna keep doing that?” you ask, running your hand down his back.

rafe looks up at you. “oh, of course baby. gonna keep fucking you while you’re pregnant too, maybe you’ll give us twins.”

you roll your eyes and giggle at rafe. “thats not how it works, silly!” “oh, what do you know?” rafe smirks at you. “you haven’t even had sex before!”

“well… i have now.” you mumble, shifting your hips from side to side, rafes cock still lodged deep inside of you.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra

[mv1simp]

requested: max + breeding kink + fertility drugs + driver!reader

Paradise ♥️

Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader

it feels like heaven on the inside (she's calling my name and oh, it sounds nice)

You’re so excited about being the first F1 female driver in years - and on ex World Champion Max Verstappen’s team, no less. But somehow, you end up not only on his racecars, but also in his luxurious silk sheets. There was something about seeing you wearing his name that makes your boss’s possessive desires come out, and lately he’s been thinking about how to keep you in his bed…forever.

content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark team owner!max and his driver!reader, breeding kink, pregnancy, baby trapping, fertility drugs, dubcon, WC 1.8K

Everyone knows Max Verstappen loved kids, and couldn’t wait to be a Dad someday. And he’d make such a great father, too, with his protective nature and strong build, yet surprisingly soft and gentle manner everytime a young fan would approach him. Every woman in his vicinity would stare at him with heart eyes when he smiled and ruffled a child’s hair as he signed their teddy, or held his hand out to help them cross the road, or rocked his nephew in his arms, the baby looking impossibly tiny and peaceful in Max’s swollen biceps.

Every woman apart from you, apparently. You were Max’s newest recruited driver for his personal racing team project, the sensational new addition to Verstappen.com and the first female driver, too. A few years younger than him at 23, you had all the fierce desire to prove to yourself and to everyone else how much you belonged on the grid, how much you deserved a championship. It was like Max was looking at his younger self, who’d been so greedy for that World Cup trophy his whole life.

But now, at 27 and with three titles already to his name, the Dutch Lion had gotten bored of his fame and wanted something…more. And what he wanted especially was his pretty, young driver under him every night as he fucked her to sleep. Of course, you’d been the very picture of rigid professionalism when he’d first met you. Paranoid about being labelled a slut and being accused of using your body to get your seat, you studiously avoided any physical contact with any male driver on the grid - especially your older Dutch mentor and boss who you thought was extremely handsome. You'd die if he ever found out about the poster of him you'd had on your bedroom wall growing up.

But Max had gotten you to relax, to let your guard down with his warm laughter and charming smile, until you couldn’t resist leaning into him when he threw a muscled arm around your shoulders, around your petite waist, or when he drew your much smaller figure to sit on his broad lap as he explained your driving feedback from today’s practise as you watched the recording on his laptop together.

With how close you two got, becoming inseparable on and off the grid, it was only a matter of time before he found you writhing in a hotel bed, desperately moaning his name with scrunched eyes as you pumped your vibrator in and out of your glistening pussy. He’d tossed the pathetic toy aside and given you something far bigger to actually cum on.

Soon enough, the Dutch Lion got his wish (like he always did) of having your small figure underneath his large, muscled one as he pounded into your bouncing ass every night. You moaned and screamed his name, lost in the bliss of being so looked after by the much more experienced older driver, who knew a couple dozen tricks to have you cumming around him. You’d never been so satisfied by any other man, you breathlessly confessed to Max as he slides into you again for the third time that week.

But like he always did, Max quickly began wanting more. He wanted to be the only cock you allowed to enter your pussy - and he wanted to do it completely raw. Of course, with your desperation to win a world championship one day, you were adamant about religiously wearing a condom every single time. No matter how many times he hinted, it was the one thing you refused to budge on. So he knew he’d have to take matters in his own hands. You always followed his lead after all, and he knew once you experienced the high of your first creampie you’d become addicted.

So a few days later he takes you back to his hotel room after a celebratory night out. You’re stumbling in your heels, drunk, and climbing all over him in the dark room as you giggle and whisper that you’re horny Maxie, can he please take care of you like always? Smirking, he makes sure to keep the lights off as he tosses you onto the mattress, your soft legs up over his muscular shoulders. Even in your tipsy state, you never forget to ask him to put the damn condom on, making him clench his jaw. You watch him slide one on before relaxing, welcoming his protected cock in between your lush thighs.

Soon he’s jack hammering away happily, making you whine and moan after he already makes you cum once and is working you upto the second one. But he makes sure to flip you over with his strong arms, pressing in between your shoulder blades so you're face down, ass up.

When he doesn’t immediately sink back inside, you whine and try to turn your head back to see what was taking so long - but his big hands firmly keep your neck in place. Just admiring the view, sweetheart, he says teasingly and giving your plump ass a rough smack.

As you moan from the jolt, he continues slapping and fingering you from behind, knowing how easy it was to get you worked up like this. And bingo, soon enough you’re squirting messily all over his large palm, soaking the sheets below you. So wet, sweetheart, he murmurs. All for me, hmm? You’re dripping everywhere.

You’re moaning brainlessly, not a single thought left in your head as you wiggle your hips shamelessly and ask Max for his cock again, pl-please make me feel good, Maxie? He smirks, knowing in this state you’d never notice if he were to tug the condom off, not with the way you’ve squirted so much and it’d be impossible to tell what was your cum and what was his.

So he does exactly that, finally yanking the annoying plastic off and releasing his angry, rock hard cock. He lines his drooling tip up to your pretty pink pussy, teasing your twitching entrance. Licking his lips, he grins evilly as he thrusts into you with a smooth motion, sinking in all the way to the base. You squirm and pant underneath him, overwhelmed by how good he feels inside you, so warm, your gummy walls squeezing down on every ridge and vein on his thick cock.

After bullying your sweet cunny mercilessly with his thrusts, he holds you down as he drains his heavy balls into your twitching hole, filling you with his creamy, thick cum. You moan under him, tiredly asking why it was so wet, he’d definitely worn a condom, right Maxie? He leaned down to kiss your shoulder, promising he had, it was just so wet cuz of your squirting, you dirty girl.

Now that he’s had a taste of your raw pussy he wants it every single night. Once was never enough for the greedy Redbull champion. So next time, he tears a hole into the condom when you aren't looking, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as you approach your climax. You don’t notice until it’s far too late that the condom broke, Maxie! Your cute eyes tear up as he grunts, already have drained half his thick load into you by this point. He pretends to be shocked as he slides out, the broken condom sliding down his shaft. Oh fuck, baby, I already came inside you….You look down at your creamy pussy in awe, curiously using your fingers to play with his cum that’s leaking out of your twitching hole. You can't deny how good it feels to have your boss fuck you raw, biting your lip nervously at the thought of doing it again when he slyly suggests it. He watches you darkly, telling you not to worry, sweetheart, he’ll just get you on the pill instead, okay?

You're reluctant with the side effects potentially messing with your driving, but he convinces you that he knows best as your mentor. It’s easy for him to get his hands on fertility drugs, and he sneaks them to you constantly under the guise of contraception. You accept them willingly, because just like he’d predicted, you quickly became addicted to his cum inside you.

Soon you’re grinding your ass against his erection and palming his dick eagerly as soon as you enter the same room, begging him to have his way with you right here, the fertility drugs making you constantly horny. He watches with an amused smirk, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back on the driver's room couch as you climb into his lap to ride his cock, your doe eyes rolling back as you milk him for every last drop.

He teases you mercilessly for how desperate you’ve become lately, telling you if you were so greedy for his cum he’ll keep pumping you until he’s fucked a baby into you, hmm? Wouldn’t that be fun? To be by his side all day and in his bed all night, to let him look after you while you carry his child? Of course, he keeps this last though to himself, knowing you would never agree to having a kid this early into your driving career.

Oblivious to his dark desires, you let him pump creampie after creampie into you, sometimes even starting races with soaked panties from where his cum leaked out earlier. The fertility drugs have your ass getting fatter and thighs chubbier, and your race suit tightens around your hips. Max loves it, tightening his grip on your soft waist as he fucks you through the hole he's brutishly ripped into your racepants. You squeal, trying to protest, but he grunts in between thrusts that he'll just have to buy you a new one, baby, since your ass was getting fatter these days. You whine in embarrassment from his words, burying your pink face into the cushions as you let him continue to hit it raw. No matter how strict you were with your diet and exercise, you still seemed to be gaining weight for some reason - and you observant boss had noticed it too. While you’re desperately thinking about how to maintain your figure for the season, the handsome, older Blonde above you can’t get enough of your new curves. He litters your plush, over sensitive little body with hickeys and bruises as he easily manhandles you with huge palms, practically wanting to devour you whole. It drives him crazy to give you multiple creampies while you're in his team's racing suit, stretched impossibly tight around your bouncing tits and hips, his Verstappen name plastered across your juicy ass. The same ass that he now roughly smacks, satisfied with how you well you’d taken his generous load when he emptied it into your twitching cunny.

Obviously, there’s only one way this can end. Your boss smirks as he thinks of the future, of you with a heavy, swollen belly and puffy folds after all the cum he’s fucked into you finally gets you pregnant with his child.

—————————————————————————

A/N: for all the breeding kink gorlies hope u enjoy 😼

[dougdimmadodo]

Fast Fauna Facts #28 - Horned Land Frog (Sphenophryne cornuta)

Family: Narrowmouth Frog Family (Microhylidae)

IUCN Conservation Status: Least Concern

As its name suggests the Horned Land Frog differs from almost all other amphibians in that it doesn't require a water source to breed; females of this species lay their eggs among damp leaf litter, and following external fertilization a male will guard the eggs until they hatch. Instead of beginning life as aquatic tadpoles young Horned Land Frogs hatch as tiny but otherwise fully-developed frogs complete with functional limbs and lungs, and for a short period following their hatching they will continue to be protected by their father (often riding on his back until they're large enough to fend for themselves.) Endemic to the island of New Guinea, Horned Land Frogs primarily inhabit rainforests (although they may also be found in other forest habitats and occasionally in urban areas) and are mainly active at night, spending the day sheltering beneath logs and rocks or buried under leaf litter.

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Image Source: Here

<-Previous (Royal Penguin)

[moosesarecute]

We named someone else after you

My second fanfic. Sort of a continuation of the last one, but not really. Hope you like it

Contains topics of fertility issues

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“He then tried to fly and catch them,” Rhys told you with the biggest smile on this face. “He just gets cuter and cuter.”

He was explaining everything you missed from the Starfall celebration.

You were seated at your usual spot in the usual cafe for your lunch. Something you two had tried to do every week after you got free from Under the Mountain. It was a time for you to be normal siblings, not the high lord and his spy sister.

“We’re quite sad you two missed it,” your brother said with a glimmer in his eyes. “What is it you do every Starfall anyway?”

Ever since your first year together as mated the two of you had spent the earlier hours of Starfall recreating your first date. A picnic up at the mountains eating food made with your mother’s recipes. Since Azriel had been on a mission until the day of Starfall, you decided to spend the evening of Starfall together instead.

You huffed. “We’ve been doing it over 400 times, if you think we’ll start telling you about it now, you’re terribly mistaken.”

“But Feyre knows! It’s unfair that I don’t.”

It’s true. You had told Feyre a lot about you and Az’s mating bond when she spent some days at the cabin trying to figure out what she wanted to do with her mating bond to your brother. She asked questions, you answered, as long as she never told anyone about it.

Rhys then shifted in his chair and you knew what was coming.

“About what Mor said,” he started.

On Starfall, Mor had dressed you in a beautiful blue, backless gown with slits on both sides. You had asked her about the color that looked suspiciously similar to the colors of your mates siphons, but the female only answered that it was “a total accident”.

The dress was beautiful, but extremely different from what you usually would wear.

When you went down to the rest of your family Cassian had basically yelled when he asked: “who are you trying to impress? Last time I checked your going on to your 475th year as a mated female.”

You of course snapped back asking if he had become too old to see the difference between your and Mor’s clothing style.

Rhys, with a comforting hand on your shoulder, asked Mor why she dressed you. “I want to be an aunt again.” your friend answered with a smile. You had tensed, but luckily for you, your mate had come and saved you from the conversation.

“It’s nothing,” you told Rhys.

“Bullshit, I know you. I felt you get tense,” your brother said and you knew there was no way for you to get away from the conversation. “You don’t want kids?” he said that the same time you started speaking.

“I can’t-“ you stopped. “Wait what?”

“I just wanted you to know that if you don’t want kids, I’m sure Mor would understand. You should just tell her and she shouldn’t bother you about it again. I’m sure you two know that.”

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say. Of course you wanted kids. You had always wanted to have a few young, winged children to run after. And you have loved being an aunt for Nyx, making you even surer that you wanted to be a mother.

“It’s not that we don’t want kids,” you hesitated.

Lucky for you, your brother knew you better than anyone else, except for Azriel of course. He soon realized what you meant.

“You’re sure?” He just asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean, we have been trying, but never succeeded,” you said looking down at your hands, trying not to cry.

Rhys let out a breath. “I’m so sorry, y/n/n. I didn’t know.”

You let out a small laugh. Of course he didn’t know. You and your mate were spies for cauldron’s sake! If you didn’t want anyone to know, no one would know.

“How long have you been trying?”

You looked up and met his worried eyes. He grabbed your hands and was stroking his thumb over yours.

“If you don’t count during Amarantha, neither one of us has taken the potion since our 100th year anniversary.”

315 years.

“Wow,” was all Rhys managed to say. His eyes staring directly into yours.

You removed your hands from his.

“Did Cassian manage to remove the wine stain from the carpet?”

“No, and Feyre is pissed,” Rhys answered, understanding your attempt to change the topic.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“You never mentioned you would be feeling this bad,” you mate said, holding your hair and stroking your back as you threw up once again.

“I told you it would be like my cycle just lasted four times longer,” you told him back. Your voice groggy.

You were trying a new fertility treatment. You had tried different ones before, but so far nothing worked. This one was particularly bad. After your cycle, you would spend three weeks taking daily potions. The potions didn’t taste too bad, but you would spend the following hours dizzy and nauseous with an aching pain in both your head and stomach.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” your mate continued. “Your sure you want to keep doing this?”

You had now curled onto his lap. His arms were around your waist and his shadows tried to cool you down.

“I want to give you children,” you just answered, curling deeper into your mate. His comforting smell lowering your symptoms a little and making you tired. “And I want to be a mother.”

“Then I’ll help you through this, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okey?”

You nodded, starting to fall asleep.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It’s been another year after your treatment and you had lost all hope.

Azriel didn’t blame you, he would never, but you felt awful for not being able to give him and yourself children. But eventually, you started to feel content in your life without mini you’s. You were the best aunt and uncle to Nyx and Cassian and Nesta’s small babe.

This particular day, you had taken Nyx to get ice cream. Your mate had just days before, left for a month long mission at the continent. You had chosen to stay back home in Velaris to help your brother and Feyre dealing with a particularly busy period.

You had just sat down, exhausted, in Rhys office when you felt sick.

“He loves me! You just bribe him with some ice cream and suddenly you become his favorite! If I knew that, I would have done that all a-“

You had to throw up. You stood up and ran to the closest bathroom, Rhys not far behind.

“What’s going…” you threw up, “…on?” Your brother asked holding your hair away from your face.

“Probably just some bad ice cream,” you said.

“So you haven’t been sick before this?” He asked.

“Of course not, I think I would have-“ you started. But then you remembered that you also threw up after eating breakfast yesterday…and the day before that, and also the day before that. And when you first thought about it, you realized your back pain also had been a little worse than usual these days. “I guess I have been sick the last couple of days, but I’m sure it will pass.”

Rhys looked at you with big eyes. He then took three big breaths through his nose, smelling. He then smiled his biggest smile, shook his head and laughed a little. His actions confused you.

“I think you should go to Madja, sweetie,” Rhys said and basically pushed you towards the exit of his house. “And I’ll get Azriel home.”

“What? Why?”

“You can be quite daft sometimes, you know.”

You started to get annoyed, but then you realized it. The throwing up, the low energy, your brother’s smelling. Your violet eyes grew wide.

“Holy shit,” was all you were able to say. Rhys continued laughing.

You walked into Madja’s clinic and she immediately met you at the door to her office.

“Come here, love. Your brother said you were coming.”

With a comforting hand on your back, Madja guided you into the room. Madja had been with you every step of your fertility journey, so you were quite happy she was there for you.

You laid down and Madja started looking and using her powers on your stomach. She tried to stay professional, but a huge smile soon grew on her face.

“You are indeed pregnant, love. A healthy, winged babe. You’re at about eight weeks.”

You were overcome with joy and soon both you and Madja were crying tears of happiness.

You were still in shock when you walked through the doors of your home. In your hand you held a bag with a small newborn onesie in it. You had never been good at surprises, but a onesie was a good start.

You turn around when you heard the door to you cottage open in a rush. Before you could react, your mate’s shadows were swirling around you. Soon your mate’s hands were on your shoulders and his worried eyes met yours.

“You’re okay? Rhys said you threw up and just asked me to come home as fast as possible. Please say you’re okay.”

You immediately forgot all your plans about surprising Azriel and just blurted it out.

“I’m pregnant.”

You’re never going to forget the joy on your mate’s face. He was glowing and so were you.

“You’re not joking, right?” He asked and you let out a laugh while you shook your head.

You then picked up the bag that you had dropped on the floor and took out the onesie.

“A healthy, winged babe at eight weeks,” you whispered and started to cry again.

“You’re incredible,” Azriel answered with a tear running down his cheek.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Even though Rhys already knew, you wanted to wait a little longer before you told the rest of your family. You were quite sure they already knew, because of how protective Azriel, but also Rhys had been ever since founding out.

You were now 15 weeks along and started to become more and more difficult to hide your pregnancy. To your dismay you also still threw up multiple times a day and Madja was seriously considering putting you on bed rest.

You decided now would be a good time to tell everyone. All of you were at family dinner and you had just finished dinner.

“Now?” You asked your mate in his mind.

“Now,” he answered.

You waited until no one was speaking before you started.

“We have something we wanted to tell you,” you started to speak, taking your mate’s hand in yours. “I’m four months pregnant.”

Everyone was gaping at you.

“Gods! We thought you were dying or something!” Mor exclaimed. “We’ve never seen Azriel and Rhys that protective of you before!”

Before you could answer her, Cassian had pulled you out of your chair and into a bone crushing hug.

“Careful, Cass,” your mate hissed at his brother.

But it was too late, Cassian’s quick movements made you nauseous and you were rushing to the closest bathroom to throw up. Azriel of course followed you.

When you came back to the room you were surrounded by Feyre, Nesta and Mor. You asked: “you thought I was dying?”

“We had started to realize that you perhaps could not have children, so when you suddenly became distant and Az and Rhys looked so worried and distracted, we immediately thought the worst,” Mor explained. “But we’re soooooo happy!”

“Your child will be so cute!” Feyre said.

“And so close in age to our babe!” Nesta said smiling.

After a while, Cassian slowly moved towards you wearing an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, little one. I’m just so happy you’re finally going to be parents.”

“It’s okay, Cass. You’re forgiven, by me at least.” You gazed towards your mate that still looked very displeased with Cassian.

You walked over to your love and said “our child has the best family” while your hand rested on your stomach.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The birth had been hard. You were in labor for over 20 hours before you could start to push. You weren’t happy about it, and you grew more irritated by the hour. No less than three times had you kicked your mate out of the delivery room for breathing too loud, stroking your hair too much and asking if you needed something to drink.

But eventually you held your baby boy in your arms. And Azriel held you in his arms.

The moment of peace and happiness only lasted about five minutes, before you started to get worse and worse contractions once more.

You remember feeling scared, annoyed and frustrated when you heard Madja mutter the words “there is another one” to your mate.

Your second babe, a girl, was a lot smaller than her brother, but she also had wings.

“I don’t know how we didn’t see her! She’s a sneaky one.”

With two babes in your mate’s arms and a heart fuller of love than ever before, you finally got some rest.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

After spending two days recovering from the birth, you were finally ready to introduce your babes to your family.

Everyone was in the living room of the River House waiting for you.

You walked in first, carrying your son.

Your family muttered how cute and how beautiful wings your babe had, but your eyes were set on only your brother.

You slowly sat down beside him on the couch and carefully let your son into his arms.

Rhys and Feyre both looked in awe at the boy that even at two days old looked like a copy of his father.

“I want you to meet Rhyland,” you said with a smile. Doing your best not to cry.

However, the second your brother’s wide and teary eyes met yours, you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

No one spoke for a while. Everyone was just enjoying seeing and holding their new family member.

As Cassian handed your son back to you, he said “I can’t believe you named him after Rhys and not me.”

The comment was obviously meant as a joke, but you had hoped he would say something like that. “You can come in now,” you told your mate through his mind.

“That’s because we named someone else after you.”

The door opened and in walked your amazing mate with your tiny daughter in his arms.

“We also wanted you to meet Cassandra,” Azriel said as he showed your daughter to Cassian, not quite ready to let go of her.

“How could you not tell us you were having twins,” Nesta gaped at you.

“We didn’t know,” you simply replied.

When you got home later that evening, Azriel carried both your sleeping babes and put them in their cribs.

“You’re an amazing father,” you told him. “It makes me love you even more, if that’s possible.”

He gave you a small kiss, before he picked you up and carried you to your bed as well.

“I can’t wait to raise them with you,” he said. “My amazing, incredible and beautiful mate.”

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 8.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: injuries, sexism, mentions of male genitalia, orgasms and (oral) sex

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Minors do not interact.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Katsuki fastens the stag at the dragon's back behind the saddle. Y/n stands beside him and secures the stag while Katsuki uses the straps to make sure that the stag doesn't fall off during the flight. She watches as Katsuki works with a grim expression on his face. More grim than usual, she thinks. She wonders why. She doesn't know that Katsuki takes her to his tribe today. He didn't even try to tell her since she wouldn't understand him anyway.

He would never admit it but he's anxious. He knows that his men will celebrate his victory. Coming home with a successful hunt. Bringing home a woman for the tribe.

Concerning the old hag, he's not so sure. His mother is one of the few remaining women in his tribe. The plague took most of the fertile women. Meaning old women past their fertile prime and young girls before their first blood survived. Leaving a whole generation of young men behind.

His mother always had very specific expectations of how Katsuki's life was supposed to take place. Becoming the tribe's leader, for example. That being said, he's not sure she will approve of him bringing home a stray female. Well, that'd be alright if he did and brought her for his men. Or for himself for a night. But definitely not as a potential mate for himself.

Suddenly, there's a warm hand on his bicep. Y/n. She must've said something to him considering how expectantly she looks at him. „What, woman?“, he spats. Y/n furrows her brow in worry. Clearly, something is upsetting Katsuki.

Y/n walks closer to him and wraps her arms around his middle and leans into him. For a second, Katsuki wants to push her away because he is annoyed. When he sees how she looks at him, he changes his mind. Soft eyes look up at him, making him dizzy.

He shifts so he can take her into his arms. He leans his forehead onto hers and takes a deep breath. He can still feel the angry feeling in his stomach. Or is it anxiety? He doesn't know. Either way, it feels like a stone lying right behind his belly button.

Y/n moves her head and meets Katsuki in a kiss. Without opening his eyes, Katsuki kisses her back. In contrast to yesterday at the bonfire, this kiss is sweet and slow. There's no fire behind it just reassurance. Katsuki doesn't realize how the stone dissolves itself.

Breaking the kiss, Katsuki looks down at y/n who places a hand on his cheek and softly strokes it. He wants to sigh and kiss her again but y/n slips out of the embrace and gets another bag that needs to be secured at the dragon's back.

Before they take to the sky, y/n takes a look at Katsuki's injury one more time. She's afraid that the wound won't heal properly with Katsuki moving around so much. Katsuki thinks it's completely unnecessary but he lets y/n fret over him for a bit. Maybe he also enjoys it a bit. When she's done, they mount the dragon.

Y/n watches their surrounding with excited eyes. Somehow, she can't get enough of watching the landscape from so high above. Katsuki does not do any stupid tricks this time and just lets her enjoy the view. Now and then, he presses a kiss to her neck which makes her feel fuzzy inside.

Slowly, but steadily the landscape starts to change. The forest areas become less and less dense and few more settlements can be spotted. The air grows cooler.

They fly for two or three hours when y/n starts to notice a painful ache in her tights. She remembers what happened last time when they flew for a longer period of time. She tries to ignore the pain until it becomes too much. She turns around and asks Katsuki to land. When he doesn't understand her, she keeps pointing to the ground.

„What, you gotta piss? I've told you to go before we left, stupid woman.“, Katsuki mumbles but gives the dragon a sign to land.

After the dragon touches land, Katsuki helps y/n down. He notices how her movements are stiff. He touches her legs and notice how cool she's gotten. He scrambles for some clothes when y/n wobbles behind a tree.

There, she lifts her dress and looks at her tights. There are blisters forming and there are fine tears in her skin. „Fuck.“, she mumbles.

„Fuck?“, Katsuki's amused voice says behind her.

Y/n drops her skirt and turns around. Dramatically, she rolls his eyes to make it clear what she thinks of that comment. She's sure as hell that Katsuki has a foul mouth. He shouldn't make fun of her when she uses a swear word here and then.

„You done?“, he says putting his hand on his hips. Wordlessly, y/n wobbles back to the dragon and looks for the medicine bag. Katsuki watches her closely, not getting why she needs wound dressing.

„You stay here“, y/n tells him, „Don't look.“

She wobbles behind the dragon and sits down carefully she looks for the rash cream and some bandages. Katsuki follows her closely behind.

„Go away!“, she tells him and waves her hand. Katsuki picks up one of the bandages.

„Why do you need those? Are you hurt or what?“, he asks. Y/n gives him a mean look and keeps pointing behind the dragon.

When Katsuki doesn't move, y/n sighs in defeat. It's not like he will see anything inappropriate. It's just legs after all, y/n tells herself and starts ruffling up her skirt.

Katsuki's eyes widen when he realizes why y/n wanted him to leave. However, he does not show any signs of moving away. Instead, he very intensely stares up y/n's naked leg. Y/n makes sure lady parts are covered but can't help feeling embarrassed by Katsuki's stares. He must know this intimate. Especially when she has to prop up and spread one leg in order to get to the wound.

In all honesty, very indecent thoughts run through Katsuki's mind when he sees y/n in this position. That is until he sees the wounds on y/n's thighs. Immediately, he steps closer, kneels down and grabs y/n's knee hollow pushing her leg further apart. Y/n yelps as she almost loses balance.

Katsuki inspects the wound. „Rider's rash.“, he determines. Not uncommon if you ride a horse or dragon without proper clothes. Y/n's dress definitely falls under the category of improper clothes for riding. Katsuki wants to scold himself. He should've thought of this. It's not like y/n had any other choice but to ride with the clothes on her back since she had no others.

Katsuki lets go off her leg and grabs the rash cream.

„I-it's fine! I can do that myself!“, y/n says jittery and tries to grab the cream out of Katsuki's hand. She really doesn't want him to touch her anywhere near there. No, that's wrong. She definitely wants that but not now and not here.

Katsuki just swats her hand away and takes a big goop of cream. Carefully, he spreads her leg again applying the cream onto the wound. While he's very concentrated on treating the wound, he's also painfully aware of how close he is to the place his men would kill for. When the cream is applied he wraps a bandage around it. Without asking, he checks y/n's other leg and repeats the process.

Meanwhile, y/n's face burns in a bright red.

Once he's done, he lets go of her and pulls her skirt over her legs again. A gesture that y/n appreciates. Then, he rumbles through a bag and gets another pair of pants. It's shorter than the one he wears. He helps y/n into the pants and y/n stuffs her dress into the pants trying to use the fabric as a cushion for the wounds that already formed. Katsuki also wraps his cape around her shoulder and arms.

Then, it's time to fly again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They fly for the rest of the day. Only taking a quick pee break in between. While y/n is fascinated by the view for a while, she eventually grows tired. At some point, she leans back and rests her head against Katsuki's shoulder. He lets her because he knows how tiring flying can be to an untrained body. He remembers how beat he was after his first few flying lessons.

When the mighty Bear Fang Mountains come into view, Katsuki nudges y/n awake. Actually, she bolts awake and when she remembers where she is, she immediately clings to Katsuki's arms for balance.

„Wow“, she breathes at the sight in front of her. A large mountain range opens up in front of them. Are we flying lower or are these mountains higher than we fly?, she thinks.

„We call them Iron Peaks“, Katsuki tells her. He points along the range of mountains and repeats: „Iron Peaks“. Y/n follows the motion of his finger and mumbles: „Iron Peaks“. Katsuki corrects her pronunciation and y/n repeats the words until she feels Katsuki nod behind her.

Katsuki takes her hand and uses her index finger to point to a mountain to the right of them. „There's my home. There's where we're going. Back home.“, he tells her. Again, y/n repeats the last word Katsuki utters and he nods approvingly.

„Yes, we're going home.“, he mumbles into her hair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's not long before the dragon starts flying lower and a settlement comes into sight. Y/n instantly recognizes how it looks different from the settlements in the kingdom. The settlement is made of tents instead of brick houses. Suddenly, a feeling of nostalgia hits her. While most villages in the kingdom were assembled out of brick houses, that's not where the wandering folk lived in.

Her people also lived in tents. Portable homes that can be set up anytime anywhere. And, of course, one cannot be struck dead by falling stones. Just the sight of the arrangement of tents makes her think of her people, her parents, and her childhood. Her heart aches and she can feel tears pricking in her eyes. Quickly she rubs them away and hopes that Katsuki mistakes them as the result of the cold wind piercing her eyes. She really can't wait to sleep in comfortable leather walls again.

Katsuki's mind is too busy to notice y/n's tears. He's growing more tense with each passing second.

The dragon approaches landing and y/n can make out human figures in between the tents. When the dragon's feet stand firm on the ground, a bunch of rough-looking men walk towards the dragon with loud roaring. For a second, y/n thinks the men are going to attack them until Katsuki lets out a triumphant howl in return.

Katsuki jumps from the dragon and his men immediately tackle him. Katsuki laughs and shoves the men away playfully. Y/n feels awkward watching him greet his friends from atop the dragon, so she carefully demounts the dragon by herself. The motion grabs the men's attention.

„A woman?“, a blonde man says with his eyes as big as saucers. „I thought you wanted to go hunting. You should've taken us with you when you planned to raid a place!“, another man complaints. Katsuki shoves him roughly.

„I wasn't on a raid, you dumb fucks. Basically, found that one roaming the woods.“, he tells them.

„Our chief is a lucky one then, heh?“, the blonde grins, „Is she a good fuck? Or you kept her decent so one of us can have her?“.

Katsuki shoots the blonde an angry glare. „Shut the fuck up, Denki. That one's mine, you got that.“, he growls.

The blonde named Denki raises his hands in defeat. „Alright, chief. But what will your mother say about that?“, Denki teases. Katsuki stomps his feet.

„I'm chief and that old hag needs to bow to my decisions.“, he shoots back.

It doesn't go unnoticed by him how his men exchange uncertain glances. While Katsuki took over the regiment a few years ago, the former chief of the tribe, his mother, still holds a certain power over people.

Y/n walks closer to the men and gives the men uncertain smiles.

„Why is she dressed like this?“

„She's so small. You sure she's gonna make it around here? Their kind is not known for being mountain-weather-resistant.“

„Are her boobs big? And her hips wide enough?“

The men swarm her trying to get a good look at her. Y/n feels really uncomfortable and, by the way the men look at her, she's worried they'll try to tear the clothes off of her.

Katsuki steps in between them. „Y'all shut the fuck up. Get your asses to work. Unload the dragon, and take care of the stag! Tonight we feast!“, he yells at them and grabs y/n's arm.

The men get to work and Katsuki wordlessly drags y/n behind him deeper into the settlement. More men wait outside their tents. Upon seeing Katsuki's angry face, they decide against greeting their leader. Nobody wants to deal with Katsuki in a bad mood. They also oogle at the woman at his side.

Y/n searches for women among them to no avail. Where are they?, she wonders. Do they stay in the tents? Are they with the kids?

She doesn't find an answer to her question. Then, Katsuki arrives at his destination. A large, painted tent in the middle of the settlement. There's a small brick hut attached to its side. One of the only stone constructions y/n spotted so far.

Katsuki leads her inside. Once inside, he lets go of her arms and throws the knife he was holding onto a table at the side. Y/n looks around carefully.

There's a large bed with furs and other blankets in the middle of the room. There are multiple wooden chests on the side of the tent.

There is a small table and two chairs on the other side. And there are weapons. A lot of them. Hanging from the ceiling. In buckets on the ground. Thrown carelessly onto the trunks.

Y/n is pretty sure that this must be Katsuki's tent.

"Y/n", Katsuki says sternly. Y/n turns around carefully. Katsuki says something that sounds like an order and y/n stares at him with furrowed brows. We really have to work on this language thing, she thinks to herself while shrugging helplessly to make him see that she doesn't understand a thing.

Katsuki sighs. He grabs her arm and pulls her to the side of the tent. Behind the table, there is an opening in the tent that is closed off with another piece of leather. Pulling it away, Katsuki reveals the entrance to the small brick hut y/n saw from the outside.

He pulls her inside and a sort of bathroom comes into sight. It's sparsely furnished but has everything that is needed. In the middle of the hut is a bathtub that is already filled with steaming water.

Katsuki points at her, then the water and says: "Bath!". Y/n nods and repeats the words. Katsuki nods and turns to leave.

The hot water feels good on y/n's skin. The cool mountain air already cooled down y/n's body and she's glad she can warm herself up a bit. Also, she hasn't washed herself since before the festival at the village. Now that she thinks about it, she must really stink. She wonders if Katsuki noticed.

Embarrassed, she scrubs her skin until it is burning. Katsuki's tribe must not care too much about smells at least there are no nice soaps or scented oils in the bathroom. Just an odorless curd soap. After y/n dried herself off, she wished she had some of that bee wax lotion that her mother made. Her mother always put some lavender oil in it which y/n find quite relaxing.

When she's done, she wraps the towel she found in the hut around her body. She doesn't want to put on her old dress since it's all sweaty and gross.

Katsuki isn't in the tent when she returns. She sits down on the bed while she waits for him. When she grows cold again, she loses the wet towel and wraps herself in one of the blankets.

After a while, the opening to the tent is lifted and Katsuki steps back into the room. He acknowledges her with a curt nod.

Y/n hops off the bed wrapped in the blanket. "Can I borrow some clothes from you?", she asks him. When she sees he doesn't understand, she holds up her dress and repeats: "Clothes?".

"Clothes?", he repeats and looks at the dress and then at her. Y/n can see the wheels in Katsuki's head turning. Suddenly, his eyes widen and he looks at the dress and then at her in realization.

The realization is that y/n is naked underneath the blanket.

Katsuki swallows hard. There's a naked woman wrapped in his blanket in his tent. Quickly, he tries to shake off the thought. He starts rummaging through the chests for some clothes for her.

He finds a woolen shirt and linen pants. He doesn't have any female clothes and he makes a note to get some for her tomorrow.

Katsuki throws the clothes at y/n and y/n almost drops the blanket. Katsuki wishes she would drop it. He's curious about how she looks naked. So, he tries his luck and keeps looking at her expectantly. Maybe she'll change in front of him.

She doesn't. Actually, Katsuki staring at her makes her a bit angry. It's rude, she thinks. "Turn around!", she tells him and makes a rotating movement with her index finger.

Katsuki waits another moment in hopes she will change her mind but then turns around. It takes all the self-restraint he possesses not to peek.

When he feels her hand on his arm, he turns around again.

"Socks?", y/n asks and shows him her naked feet and Katsuki scrambles for some socks. The socks are way too big for y/n but they are thicker than her own socks.

Y/n feels a lot better now that she wears some fresh clothes even though she must look ridiculous since the clothes are way too big for her and not something a woman would ever wear.

Katsuki however can't take his eyes off her. He hasn't taken her on as his mate yet and the fact that she wears his clothes is so... intimate to him. Like she's already his.

Y/n wraps the blanket around herself again since it's still way too cold for her in the tent. Katsuki leads her to the bed and makes her sit down.

He looks at her for a moment and pets her head for a second before telling her: "Stay here".

Y/n sighs deeply. She already learned what "stay" means. He must've told her a thousand times already. But, she doesn't complain.

She's tired and not in the mood to be confronted with his strange men outside. She just nods at him and lays down. Katsuki tucks her in and presses a kiss to her forehead.

When Katsuki leaves, it doesn't take long before y/n's eyes get droopy and she slips into a slumber.

Somewhen when the sun's already down, she is woken up by loud yelling outside. There are sounds of a celebration but y/n is too tired to care. She just pulls a pillow over her head and goes back to sleep again.

She's woken up roughly by Katsuki shaking her uninjured shoulder. He holds a steaming plate into her face.

Suddenly, y/n is awake in a second. Her stomach is grumbling. While y/n eats, Katsuki disappears into the stone hut.

The food is delicious. It's the stag meat and some form of mashed potatoes but spicier. While y/n eats, she notices how quiet it has gotten outside.

Seems like the party's over, she thinks when Katsuki returns to the main room again.

The food almost falls out of y/n's mouth.

He's naked. Absolutely butt-naked. He's not even trying to hide his manhood.

Y/n throws a pillow at him.

"What?", Katsuki snarks and y/n throws another pillow at him.

When he turns fully around at her to scold her for throwing things at him, y/n slaps her hands in front of her eyes.

"Tsk", Katsuki exclaims but has to hide his grin, "What? Did you expect me to act all innocent like you? This is my home, y'know. Also, you should get used to it!"

Y/n doesn't move until Katsuki puts on some proper clothes (which for him is thin linen pants and that's it) and even then her face is still burning red.

Katsuki lays down next to her and props up his head. Even though y/n's appetite is dimmed after the naked encounter, she finishes the plate to not seem ungrateful.

After she's put the plate away on the table, Katsuki grabs her waist when she returns to his bed. While it takes y/n by surprise, she doesn't fight it. Before she knows it, she's pinned beneath him and his lips are on hers.

Katsuki kisses her feverishly, starved even. As if he's been waiting all evening to kiss her. Which, to be fair, he did. The action overwhelms y/n for a second but when Katsuki doesn't pull back and y/n wraps her head around it, she kisses back.

Katsuki lets his hands wander. He avoids any body parts that get him hit with a pillow, at least for now. Y/n mirrors his actions and runs her hands up and down his arms and back.

Katsuki forces his tongue into y/n's mouth which she gladly accepts. With a dizzy head, she acknowledges that Katsuki is an extremely good kisser. At least to her. Not that she kissed that many people before.

When Katsuki starts pressing open-mouthed kisses onto her neck and collarbone, y/n lets out a breathy sigh. Katsuki's mouth and hands on her just feel too good.

While Katsuki's dick has been hard before this, it jumps at the sound y/n makes.

There's nothing more in the world he wants right now than tearing the clothes off of her and exploring every inch of her body with his mouth.

He knows it's off-limit until they become mates and for a second he contemplates if making her come on his tongue really breaks the rules since he's technically not mating her. He decides not to test the rage of the gods.

He detaches from her neck and rolls over facing her. Y/n is left lying on her back, breathing heavily.

"You asshole", she tells him and Katsuki has to laugh.

She turns to him and Katsuki opens his arms to her. Y/n crawls into his embrace while Katsuki pulls a heavy blanket over both of them.

For a while, they lay in silence. Katsuki strokes over y/n's back and presses a kiss onto her forehead every now and then. Somewhen Katsuki's movements become slower and eventually, they stop.

He must've fallen asleep, y/n thinks. Meanwhile, she's wide awake. She snuggles deeper into Katsuki's chest and listens to his soft, steady breathing.

Somehow, she feels at ease. Even though she's been brought to this place and its strange men. She should probably feel anxious about what happens tomorrow but she can't find it in her to stress out about it.

All thoughts eventually spin back to Katsuki and how she's sure that whatever happens, Katsuki will protect her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[contentloadingandstuff]

(NSFW) Perfect Match - Tighnari x Fem!Tighnarian!Reader

A/N: Here's the third fem reader post for the few that happen to be on this blog. It's been some time since I last wrote a fic like this, but it's always nice to have a switch of perspective. As usual, and especially with this one as fem reader is not my forte, I'd really appreciate any thoughts and feedback you might have. Enjoy! CW: Tighnari is a little feral, reader and Tighnari go into heat, the usual smut.

Tighnari is such a contrast. Daily, he's quiet, patient and gentle (unless the circumstances demand something more than words), but when the heat grows, he turns just a little bit feral with you. 

The reason? Simple - he loves you. Oh, yeah, and the hormones also play a part in melting his needy brain. 

You've been together for some time now and Tighnari's instincts gave you the tag of his mate and he acted accordingly long before really acknowledging this. And, speaking honestly, he doesn't mind acting a little instinctual as long as you're fine with it. 

Keeping you close and protecting you is what he is meant to do with you as his female. Tighnari frequently takes the initiative in simple, everyday matters. Need to get out of a crowd? He's already holding your hand and guiding you safely through the people to a quieter place. When cuddling in bed, he always shifts to be the big spoon, security your smaller, warm body in his hold, close - just as you should be. If there is any imminent danger, you'll quickly find yourself gently pushed back behind him by his arm.  

He'll get possessive at times too. When he notices any other male forest rangers eyeing you with the curiosity you've got accustomed too - ears and a tail as beautiful as yours draw attention, obviously - his hand will make its way to your hip and stay there. When it's the heat season, Tighnari will also get quite defensive with you. If anybody is as little as unkind to you, he will step in to get them off your back. With all this comes a little bit of obvious suspicion, but simple communication is always enough to ease his worries about any of the other men you’re colleagues or friends with. 

Does it all bother you? Oh, not at all! How could it when every inch of him just radiates this unexplainable male allure you can't get enough of? 

There's something fascinating about the way he carries himself that you can't quite explain. It's how decisive he is, it's in the unique tone of his voice, it's in his subtly dominant nature. Your eyes pick up seemingly trivial things that you can't help but marvel at. You love how strong he is, be that due to his Vision or just how he is - nothing makes you more excited than being picked up (and pinned down too!). He does this with such ease too…

Being a young hybrid, Tighnari has his needs that, if not satiated, make him grumpy and quite irritated. If you're not feeling like it, he'll understand - as any good partner should. Which doesn't mean he won't be disappointed, mind you. A horny Tighnari significantly increases your chances of stumbling upon him furiously stroking himself or hearing his needy moans in the night as he blows another unsatisfying load. 

Even though his hand was enough to keep his lust at bay, it was hardly satisfying. Luckily, the days of jerking the edge off are gone now. Why cum into a tissue when he can empty his balls inside you? Compared to his hand your fertile, warm and wet pussy feels like absolute heaven…

… And his fat, pulsating cock is the ideal extinguisher for the fire in your womb. Your hybrid nature leaves you just as prone to bursts of irresistible arousal as him. Your heat might be a single month at the start of the year, but living alongside a fellow tighnarian makes your brain buzz with hormones. 

Between the two of you, there's a simple rule - when you're horny, you fuck. He knows well that when his thoughts wander, there's no way of fighting them off. That's when he'll signal his needs to you. Looking at you with those smug bedroom eyes, for example, is a clear sign that Tighnari would like to see you on the bed head-down-ass-up in the immediate future. 

Usually, it's your smell that catches his attention. His sensitive nose can pick it up flawlessly each time. Your scent is gentle, with only the slightest hint of musk included in the mix. You'll find Tighnari cuddling especially tightly in the mornings or after physical activity when your pheromones are at their strongest. It won't take much time for his hands to wander and his cock to harden. 

His scent is the perfect moisturizer for your pussy, yes, but it's also a little bothersome. Because. It. Is. Everywhere. On the pillows, on the couch, on the chairs, inside every room from the bedroom down to even the closet. In the first two months of the year it's just straight up impossible to ignore it or distract yourself from your husband's pheromones. Sometimes you're wondering if your ancestors were idiotic enough to not breed by themselves,  forcing evolution into giving them this neuron activation upon catching a whiff of dick or pussy. 

For example, doing laundry is tricky to do without getting flustered or horny. Tighnari’s musk is, obviously, the strongest on his clothes. So whenever you pick up one of his shirts or boxers and your sensitive nose finds just how strong his smell is, you suddenly become flustered and very interested in what's under the pair he is wearing right now. 

Luckily for you, Tighnari is a good husband and will fuck his cute little wife senseless when she needs it, and you’re more than glad to return the favour when he is in need. It's a simple instinct. You're his mate, and he is yours. Your scents are impossible to ignore, sending the more primal parts of your brains a simple message - you're both young, beautiful, healthy and ready to breed. Around him, your pussy clenches at nothing, your womb longing to be filled with baby-making cum, and around you his balls ache from all the creamy, virile seed he is making for you. 

This awareness, awareness of you being ripe for the picking, makes you irresistible for him. 

Although Tighnari's cock might be average in size, what he lacks in length he makes up for in sex drive and pure ferocity. He can fuck fast and he can fuck hard. He won't be stopping himself from manhandling you - you'll surely be surprised by just how strong a male like him can be. Whatever playful resistance efforts you may make and regardless of how much force you put into them, Tighnari will just growl and pin you down every single time. 

Primal play always gets him hot and bothered. In bed, he's the natural lead. He's the hungry predator, and you're his cute little prey. Struggle all you can, but at the end there's no escape from a thorough breeding. His hybrid stamina lets him cum again and again with barely any downtime between powerful orgasms that fill your insides with warm cum. 

His go to position is prone bone. Having your smaller, feminine body pinned under his weight, your hands locked under his and your pretty mouth desperately biting the sheets as he forces his swollen knot in and out of you drives him positively feral. Doggy style is also quite fun. Grabbing your tail and pulling it away to reveal your tight little asshole and drenched pussy lips is extremely satisfying. Sometimes he grabs your head and pulls it back, thoroughly enjoying the sight of your long ears folding in submission. 

While he isn't too much into receiving oral, he won't ever pass up the opportunity to feast on your pussy. If you give him the chance to, you'll find Tighnari greedily lapping at your folds, drinking up your scent and arousal like a parched man. When you sit on his face, you'll have a nice view of his cock, swollen, twitchy and overflowing with precum, just waiting to nestle in between your warm lower lips. How can this sight make you anything but absolutely crazy for his dick? You'll often find yourself locked in a sixty-nine with both of you furiously licking each other with your rough tongues. If he couples it with a passionate fuck afterwards, you'll be lucky to have your pretty legs work in the morning. 

But it is in January and February when your lust really makes an appearance. These two months are usually taken out of the calendar for you two - being apart from each other during your heat after having tasted what having a mate feels like is torture. Not even the best toys can replace him - they won't ever mimic his warmth, his desperate and frustrated groans, his arms locking your body in place or his ears, trembling and folding from the pleasure as he breeds you. 

His instincts tell him to pump a litter or two into your womb, and he'll announce his needs to you, whether you decide to go through with it or not. A condom or a pill is an absolute must if you want to be safe - it's usually very difficult to keep yourself from letting the lust take full control. It's absolutely not because your pussy milks him and throbs so much, desperate to suck him in just that millimeter deeper and get absolutely pumped with his baby making milk and end up leg locking him. 

Mornings with Tighnari are always fun, regardless of the season. You'll sometimes wake up to the sensation of him rubbing his length along your ass, moaning your name softly into your ear and asking, begging to be let in. You usually let him - it's not like you're not guilty of blowing him awake either. Whoever is the “waker-up”, they can certainly expect a wonderful, lazy morning breeding.

Thanks for reading!

[filurig]

some silly about basilisk eggs

basically all this bs is because basilisks have a long ass development time but still want to raise their young starting with the Nice Seasons.

as it says in the thing, the egg is actually surprisingly packed with the building blocks and nutrients when it is laid, and requires little actual energy investment by the male to sustain it during his period of sole incubation. the female will after conception have hugeeee cravings and basically gorge herself on food in a short amount of time, a lot of that going into the egg. some females may even prepare before conception if they are planning to have eggs that year even earlier. after laying the egg she needs time to recover but with the male being responsible for safekeeping of the egg, she has more time to.

the males are also smaller and more agile, which makes him a better fit for carrying around the egg in a pouch in case of a threat.

if not for this convoluted little thing theyd have to brood on the egg for like almost a year which isnt very Convenient.

there are certain traditions among many basilisk cultures surroudning eggs and stuff seeing as they only lay eggs during the season, and also the eggs differ so drastically when theyre fertile vs not (which probably evolved to ensure they dont waste time trying to incubate a failed egg)

one tradition among the kraksi, which is a smaller and tight knit basilisk community, is for all females who lay unfertile eggs to gift them to females that have laid fertile eggs during an annual little get together to celebrate successful layings if they have happened, or just general celebration/wishes of fertility in the future if they havent happened (in the latter case, everyone just sort of eats eachothers eggs together lol). the eggs are eaten with a big feast intended to help the recently having laid females recuperate, and also prepare their partners for their duty of safekeeping the egg until the cooperative incubation.

oh also when it is time to "lay" the egg for the male, the egg "cord" shuts itself off from the male and "dies" and falls off!

[bestanimal]

Round 2 - Arthropoda - Pycnogonida

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Pycnogonida is a class containing one order: Pantopoda, which means “all feet.” A fitting name for creatures that seem to be made entirely of legs. Commonly called “Sea Spiders”, they are not spiders, nor are they arachnids, but are actually a sister group to all other living arthropods.

Pycnogonids live in most oceans. Most are tiny, living in relatively shallow water, though some can grow to be quite large in antarctic and deep waters. Some pycnogonids are so small that each of their muscles consists of a single cell. They have a proboscis which they use to suck nutrients from soft bodied invertebrates such as cnidarians, sponges, polychaetes, and bryozoans. They can also insert their proboscis into anemones, though this rarely kills the anemone. The pycnogonid digestive tract extends into their legs. They are segmented, with the first body segment (the cephalon) consisting of the proboscis, the ocular tubercle with up to 4 simple eyes, a pair of chelifores, a pair of palps, a pair of ovigers, and the first pair of walking legs. Ovigers are used for cleaning themselves, courtship, and caring for eggs and young. Nymphonidae is the only family where both the chelifores and palps (sensory organs) remain functional. In others, these limbs are reduced or absent, instead relying on a well-developed and flexible proboscis equipped with sensory bristles. Pycnogonids are usually comprised of eight walking legs, but the family Pycnogonidae includes species with ten, and the families Colossendeidae and Nymphonidae include species with up to twelve legs! While most species have up to 4 eyes, some deep-sea species lack them entirely. Pycnogonids do not have a traditional respiratory system, instead absorbing oxygen through their legs and diffusing it throughout their body via hemolymph. Their small, long, thin hearts beat vigorously at 90 to 180 beats per minute, creating substantial blood pressure. Their nervous system consists of a brain which is connected to two ventral nerve cords, which in turn connect to specific nerves. Like other arthropods, they molt their exoskeleton as they grow.

Pycnogonid reproduction involves external fertilization after a brief courtship involving the male stroking the larger female with his ovigers and receiving the eggs if she is responsive. The couple must adjust their position until the genital pores on their legs are perfectly aligned. Only males will care for eggs and young, and in some species only the males will have ovigers while the females do not, as these limbs are used mainly for carrying and cleaning the eggs. Larvae consist only of a head with chelifores, palps and ovigers. Extra segments and legs emerge as it grows into an adult. There are at least four different types of larvae. The typical protonymphon larva is most common, is free living and gradually turns into an adult. The encysted larva spends its larval days as a parasite, finding a host in a colony of polyps, burrowing into one, turning into a cyst, and not leaving the host until it has become a juvenile. The atypical protonymphon larva lives on or within a temporary host such as a clam or polychaete worm, does not encyst or otherwise harm their host, and leaves them as an adult. Lastly, the attaching larva hatches as an embryo and immediately clings to the legs of its father, only leaving once it has two or three pairs of its own walking legs.

The pycnogonid’s cerebral appendages are unique, not found anywhere else among arthropods, except in fossils like Anomalocaris. This could mean that pycnogonids are the last surviving (highly modified) members of an ancient stem group of arthropods that lived in Cambrian oceans.

Propaganda under the cut:

They are good dads. All of them. Perfect fathers made of legs.

Their leg arrangement allows them to move forward, backward, and sideways without turning their body.

The genus Colossendeis (image 2) includes the largest pycnogonids, which live in the ocean depths. Some of them are even bioluminescent! The largest is Colossendeis colossea which can reach a leg span of 70 cm (28 in). However, their body length, including proboscis and abdomen, only reaches 7 cm (2.8 in).

About 20% of the known species of pycnogonids live in Antarctica. The cold never bothered them anyway.

One known species, Ascorhynchus corderoi, is hermaphroditic, having both ovaries and testes.

[neocrias]

all of my fears, my inner scars

synopsis: In a cursed village where the leaders plan to sacrifice their own to monsters in the forest, you escape for freedom and safety. But instead, you encounter a terrifying vampire who lives in an isolated castle. After an attack that leaves you on the brink of death, escape becomes impossible. Vernon’s dark castle is your new prison… or perhaps the key to your survival.

pairing: vampite!vernon x female reader wc: 5,8k genre/aus: thriller; suggestive

warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of death, violent content, +18.

No one could explain the reason for the countless misfortunes that plagued the small village where you lived. Before, life had been calm, peaceful, and quite prosperous – except for a few mysterious disappearances. The crops flourished, and the livestock were healthy. Now, the crops were devoured by pests, animals were disappearing, the water tasted strange, women and children fell ill constantly, and the men who volunteered to hunt in the forest never returned.

The leaders – the ones everyone accepted as leaders, though no one had ever chosen them – began to worry about the village's grim fate and proposed a very old practice as a miraculous solution.

— Dear villagers! — said one of the leaders, the eldest. — You all know that our village is plagued by terrible afflictions! But what have we done to the heavens to deserve such punishment?

His deep voice stirred the crowd, men and women shouted fervently at his words, shaking leaves of cycas revoluta to ward off curses. All the houses were decorated with these same leaves and scented with rue. Everyone took superstitions seriously, no one dared leave the village without a sprig of rosemary in their pockets. Mothers feared losing their children, and men feared not returning home before nightfall.

Everything was in chaos.

— We must calm its anger! — the second leader cried.

A murmur of “its?” and “who?” spread through the crowd, silencing the men standing on a sort of pulpit. Seeing the villagers’ agitation, the man smiled wickedly, his hollow eyes glinting with sadism.

— The beast! — he shouted. — The terrible monster that lives in the depths of the forest, he’s responsible for the curses. He’s poisoning the fertile land and killing our animals. We must appease him, or he’ll come after us, slaughtering our women and children; there will be nothing left once he’s satisfied.

— How will we do this? — the crowd cried, exchanging startled glances.

— A sacrifice! — said the last leader. — A virgin, as was done in ancient times.

The young girls in the crowd began to tremble, clinging tightly to the long skirts of their mothers, who, in turn, now appeared less confident. The last leader, noticing the women’s indecision and resistance – that made up most of the village now – rushed to continue.

— It only needs to be done once — he shouted. — One single life in exchange for many. A noble death.

— Who will it be? — a voice cried from the back, a man. — The chosen girl, who will it be?

The girls squirmed, hiding their faces in their mothers’ clothes, their small hands shaking and their eyes welling with fear at the thought of an imminent death. Mothers clutched their daughters tightly, terrified of losing them.

— Don’t worry! Young children will not be chosen — the leaders assured. — A careful conversation will be held to select a worthy offering who can rid us of these curses.

This did little to calm the villagers, but only one person really needed to fear the fate that awaited her, after all the girl had been chosen long before the solution was shared with the villagers.

You.

Consciousness returned slowly as if you were emerging from an endless nightmare. Your senses awoke one by one, revealing the cold dampness of the night, the smell of dry leaves, and the feeling of something hard against your body. You’re being carried, you realize with a shiver. Your body swayed with the heavy steps of the man holding you, and a throbbing pain pounded in your head, blurring your thoughts.

A growing panic took hold of you as you realized where you were and who was carrying you. You tried to move, but your body was still weak, your legs barely responding to your commands. Your heart raced, your breathing grew ragged, but before you could react, you heard a deep, mocking whisper:

— Finally awake, aren’t you, sweetheart? — said the youngest of the three leaders, with a venomous smile.

— Damn, finally! I thought she’d overdosed. — The man carrying you grumbled and dropped you to the ground.

You stumbled, your body still a bit numb, your legs trembling from cramps, and you only didn’t fall to the ground because the man held you roughly. Suddenly, you found yourself surrounded by them, the three of them looking at you with a predatory gleam in their eyes, their expressions cynical, as if they took pleasure in your vulnerability.

At some point in your life in the village, you had noticed those looks, but you never paid much attention. Surviving on your own, without family or friends - no one to rely on - already took all your energy. You focused on staying alive, ignoring the intentions of the men around you.

But now, in their presence, the discomfort you’d once felt was real fear and pulsing panic. Their expressions were open, undisguised, and filled with a malignant desire and a bitter resentment. The oldest leader tilted his head to the side and let out a dark laugh:

— And to think if you hadn’t been so proud… — he left the words hanging, intentionally unfinished, his eyes tracing your face and finally lingering on your body.

The three men encircled you, their dark faces illuminated by the faint lamplight, their eyes fixed on you with a threatening intensity, making it clear that their interest went beyond the sacrifice they had spoken of so fervently. When you finally found the strength to speak, your voice came out weak, but full of confusion and panic:

— Why are you… doing this?

For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, a laugh echoed, low and cruel, and the three men looked at you with cutting contempt. The oldest leader, his hollow eyes dark and menacing, leaned close so you could hear his cynical laughter up close. He grabbed your wrists firmly, pinning you to the damp ground, mud spreading across your skin as he brought his face close to yours.

— Why are we doing this? — he repeated, dragging out the words with irony. — Why do you think?

His words hit like a blow, revealing something deeper, something you’d been afraid to see. He laughed again, a cold sound full of resentment.

— Did you really think you could avoid us forever?

He pressed you harder against the ground, immobilizing you in the mud, his eyes now closer, full of contempt and barely hidden desire.

— So beautiful… A shame it has to end like this — muttered the second leader, crossing his arms as he watched the scene. — You know, I would’ve married you. You would’ve been protected, safe, and quite satisfied, but you chose to scorn us as if we were nothing.

You tried to move, but the grip was too strong, the weight of the oldest leader’s body preventing any chance of escape. The truth began to take shape on your faces as the panic inside you grew like an unrelenting wave.

The youngest of the three, with small, cruel eyes, shook his head with disdain. — If you’d been smarter, you could have saved yourself from this. Well, we have other plans for you now but don’t worry, sweetheart. It’ll be quick!

— Will it? — said the quietest of the three, his voice filled with sarcasm and poison. — I don’t think the creature will be satisfied if she suffers too little…

You shook your head in desperation. — Please, don’t-

— Sungjin… — the youngest warned, but the other just shrugged.

The eldest, who was holding you down, pulled a silver dagger from his back pocket and raised it above his head, smiling darkly. He let out a laugh as you struggled harder and closed your eyes, screaming in fear.

But instead of what you expected, you only felt the soft scrape of the silver tip against your cheek, making you shiver. Reluctantly, you opened your eyes to find the three men looking at you with sadism and twisted smiles. You turned your head, glancing from one face to another in confusion and dread.

— Silly… — the oldest cooed, and with the tip of the knife, he cut the high collar of your simple harvest dress, slitting it until your skin was exposed.

You groped at the ground around you, searching for something to grab onto, something you could use to strike at them and escape. The youngest of the three noticed what you were doing and kicked the ground near your hand, clearing away anything you could use to flee. Then he knelt beside you, holding both your wrists as their leader continued to cut the collar of your dress.

The terrified scream of the third man interrupted the others’ actions, and they turned around completely startled. Because of their large statures, you couldn’t see what they were looking at, but you knew it was bad by the way their bodies tensed.

The savage growl echoed through the trees, slicing through the heavy air with a bestial force. Before you could react, the body of the man on top of you was brutally torn away and ripped apart with a deafening noise. The blood of what was once the oldest leader now stained your skin and dress, and fear exploded in your chest, propelling you into instinctive, desperate movements.

You crawled through the mud, trying to escape the beast capable of tearing a man apart, looking up at the colossal creature standing before you. A monstrous figure, covered in thick black fur that absorbed all light around it, like a living shadow.

The powerful muscles moved beneath dense skin, each step causing a slight tremor on the ground as he advanced with a predatory and lethal grace.

The eyes, two large blazing embers, red as freshly spilled blood, locked onto you before shifting attention to the two remaining men with a glint of hunger and cruelty. The elongated snout revealed razor-sharp fangs, so long they barely fit in its jaw, dripping with thick saliva that glistened in the moonlight. Its hot and dense breath carried a metallic scent of blood, filling the air around with the smell of death.

The beast’s claws were enormous, like dark, gleaming daggers, each one capable of tearing flesh and bone with ease. The creature emitted a low, guttural sound, almost like a sadistic laugh, as it advanced toward the middle brother, throwing him to the ground with brutal force in a single move. The sound of bones breaking echoed, muffled only by his strangled cry of despair and pain that faded into the night. The beast then crouched over him, its fur soaking in blood as its teeth sank into the flesh.

You watched, paralyzed, unable to look away from the carnage before you, your mind swirling with terror and disbelief. The shadows seemed to dance around you as if every drop of blood attracted the very evil haunting the village.

The last man, the youngest leader, backed away slowly, his face a mask of pure terror as his eyes darted frantically between you and the creature that was now advancing toward him. He barely had time to scream before the monster struck him down, his body falling lifeless.

Breathing heavily, you stood up, legs trembling and heart racing. Your mind was a whirlwind of terror and confusion, desiring one thing only: to escape. You ran as soon as you could, stumbling in the mud and over roots, unsure of where to go, guided only by the need to distance yourself from that carnage and avoid a painful, imminent death.

Adrenaline was all that kept your legs moving, even as your feet became bruised and bloody from stepping on broken branches and sharp stones. You continued running without thinking, each heartbeat echoing like a frantic drum in your ears. Blood still pulsed in your temples, and the metallic smell mixed with sweat and mud covering your skin only intensified the sense of terror corroding your senses.

With each step, the forest seemed to close in around you, the twisted shadows of trees extending like deformed, menacing fingers. You refused to look back, afraid of what you might see – the creature with red eyes, the claws that tore bodies as if they were nothing, the growls that still echoed in your mind. The ground beneath your feet was treacherous, filled with roots and sharp stones, but the pain in your feet was just another detail you ignored, fighting to keep moving forward.

Suddenly, the forest opened into a corridor of trees, the twisted trunks like dark guardians of a forbidden path. The silhouette of something massive emerged in front of you: an ancient construction, a fortress of dark, impenetrable stone. A castle. You stopped for a second, panting, your mind was torn between the impulse to enter or try a different direction, but a distant, familiar growl broke the night's silence again, and the decision was made in an instant.

Without thinking twice, you ran toward the castle. Your hands trembled as they touched the worn, damp, slippery stone stairs. The steps were narrow and winding, like a serpentine path climbing the fortress's side, almost like a mountain road. The cold wind whipped against you, lashing your face and mixing with the sweat and dried blood, while you climbed without stopping, stumbling but refusing to give up.

You hesitated at the door, your trembling fingers tracing the rough surface of the old, heavy wood, dark as coal and damp as if it had never seen the sun. There was no time to think; another growl tore through the forest's silent air, and your hand, almost acting on its own, pushed the door. It creaked with a grave, ominous sound, revealing a cold, damp interior steeped in shadows.

The air inside was dense and icy. Each step echoed as a ghostly sigh while you advanced, feeling the weight of the walls around you as if the castle itself were breathing. You knew you weren’t safe here, but if the alternative was facing the creature outside, the castle had become your only hope. The silence of the castle enveloped you in a cold embrace, and your heart still pounded uncontrollably, adrenaline sustaining your caution, trying to figure out where to go and what to do.

You followed a long corridor, shadows seeming to stretch and intertwine around you, guiding you to a grand room at the end of the path. As soon as you crossed the carved stone arch, your gaze was immediately drawn to the center.

The throne made of bones was a macabre and impressive work of art. Countless interwoven bones formed its base and structure, arranged with terrifying precision and symmetry, composing a throne worthy of a dark king. Human and animal skulls were arranged in layers, forming a deadly crown around the man seated at its center, enclosed by a prison of bones, reinforcing his aura of power and predation. There was something disturbingly alive in how these skulls seemed to gaze at anyone who approached. Every detail seemed to breathe darkness, and you felt that if you got closer, the cold of the bones would engulf you, bringing with it all the secrets and sufferings of those immortalized there.

Vernon sat there, motionless, as if he were a statue sculpted by a divine artist. His skin was of flawless paleness, so delicate and translucent it could easily be compared to porcelain. His face was angular, with severe and incredibly beautiful lines, a dark, well-defined brow that highlighted even more the icy sharpness of his eyes. The gaze – cold, cruel, piercing – seemed to cut through you with unsettling ease, as if he could see every hidden fear and thought within you.

The dark black hair fell around his face with an almost ethereal softness, glinting in the room's dim light, making him stand out even more amid the shadows. He exuded a surreal beauty, too perfect to be human, unreachable and dangerous, something out of a dream. And yet, everything about him inspired dread: every detail, from the predatory look to the barely-there smile curving his lips, showed a threat that couldn’t be ignored. You felt every cell in your body scream to run, but something stronger – perhaps his very presence – held you captive, hypnotized.

Vernon was imposing, a figure that dominated the entire space with undeniable authority, and the aura around him was dark and powerful. Whoever he was, he looked at you as a helpless prey who entered the predator's territory unknowingly.

The simple sight of him was enough to steal the air from your lungs. You didn’t know his name, or what he was, but even so, you knew you were in the presence of something ancient, far older than you could imagine.

When he finally moved, leaning slightly on the throne, your heart skipped a beat. And then, a single word, soft and laden with danger, slipped from his thin lips: — Who dares enter my castle?

You felt the impact of his voice reverberating throughout your body, a low, cutting sound that seemed to grip your heart with invisible claws. His sharp gaze was the last thing you saw before everything began to blur and darken. Your body felt heavy, as if being pulled down, the ground coming closer, and you felt your legs give way, unable to bear the weight of fear any longer.

Your field of vision narrowed until only shadows surrounded you, like a dark veil closing slowly. The sound of your heartbeat echoed, muffled, and your mind grew cloudy and unfocused. The sensation of being pulled away from yourself intensified, as your senses faded one by one. All that remained was the cold feel of stone against your skin…

And then, nothing.

When your eyes opened again, a face was looming above you. Vernon was even more intimidating up close, his flawless, unreal skin under the shadows hanging over him. He gazed down at you with a look of disdain and cruel curiosity, as if examining a broken insect. His eyes slowly traced over your blood - and mud-streaked face -, then over your injured body, as if trying to decipher every mark of pain and suffering you bore.

In his expression, there was a hint of interest, cold and impersonal, an almost predatory fascination with your fragility.

Realizing you were awake, he curved his lips into an icy smile, his eyes glinting with a silent threat. In one swift, ungentle motion, he gripped the torn collar of your dress, pulling you to stand, despite your trembling legs and aching body.

— What do you think you’re doing in my castle, little creature? — he murmured, his voice low and disdainful, full of curiosity.

His touch, though delicate, was impossible to ignore. His cold fingers held the fabric tightly, and the slight smile on his face suggested he already knew the answers—he just wanted to see you struggle, vulnerable, as you tried to explain your presence.

Fear coursed through your veins like poison, even as the question lingered in the air, laden with palpable tension. You tried to respond, but the words tangled in your throat, choked by panic and pain. The sense of helplessness was overwhelming, and you squirmed, trying to break free, but your strength seemed to slip like sand through your fingers.

Vernon continued observing you with disdain and amusement. His smile was a thin mask covering the cruel curiosity that sparkled in his red eyes. When he tilted his head, assessing every fragment of your being, every ragged breath, and tremor of fear.

— Silence, then? — he whispered, but his voice still held an authority that allowed no opposition. Vernon brought his face close to yours, and the smell of damp earth and fresh blood surrounded you, sending a chill down your spine. — Do you think you can escape your fate?

You tried to avoid his piercing gaze, but it was as if an invisible force compelled you to meet his eyes. Fear burned like a wildfire in your chest, and as he leaned closer, you felt the sensation of drowning in the darkness of his gaze. Emotions clashed within you – despair and the determination to live.

— I am not an offering — you finally managed to murmur, your voice rough and weak, almost a challenge. The tone of your voice made a subtle smile form on his lips, but there was no joy, only a recognition of your bravery — or perhaps your foolishness.

— I’m not the one who decides, dear. Your village has already chosen your fate — he replied, irony evident in his words. — Pathetic. Sacrificing virgins as if that would solve the plagues that they created.

— It wasn’t a sacrifice — you denied it, knowing your fate was still death, but it was not justified as the village’s salvation. Still, your heart tightened at his contempt and mockery of your pain. — You have no idea what you’re talking about!

But Vernon’s expression remained impassive, his eyes fixed on you as if analyzing every word.

— I’m not interested in the concerns of a village that ignores its destruction, although sacrifices always have the finest blood…

His words resonated like a death knell, and you felt hope slip away. But amid the despair, a thought arose. You should fight, and find a way to escape, even if every fiber of your being screamed to surrender to the terror Vernon represented.

Vernon noticed your hesitation, pulling you closer, the fury behind his gaze now evident. — What will you do now? What do you desire?

A challenge. A spark of determination rekindled within you. — I want freedom — the words came out as a whisper, but there was an intensity in them that changed his expression. The disdain transformed into something deeper as if he were assessing the essence of your soul. Vulnerability mixed with a glimmer of courage for a brief moment, the air between you charged with possibilities.

— Freedom, you say? — he repeated thoughtfully. — Do you think that’s something you can have? What would you do to earn it?

— I… — you began, your heart pounding fiercely within your chest. — I’ll do whatever it takes. Just let me go.

Vernon smiled, but it offered no comfort, only a promise of a negotiation in which you’d never come out ahead. The game between the two of you had taken on a new form, and you found yourself walking a tightrope between life and death, between freedom and captivity.

— Then let’s see what you’re made of — he said, releasing your collar but keeping his gaze fixed, as though every move you made was being evaluated.

You didn’t back down, though you wanted to, you knew you had to face him head-on, with every ounce of courage you had left, preparing for the next step with the monster before you. An enigma wrapped in shadows and desire.

The atmosphere in the castle grew dense, as though the air was electrified by an impending storm. Vernon moved around you, surrounding you with his presence and power, his steps silent and graceful, like a serpent ready to strike. Every movement was laced with grace, and you found yourself struggling not to shrink back, not to let his presence intimidate you.

— Ah, the fair virgin — he whispered against your ear, his seductive voice dancing in the space between you. 

Vernon dragged his cold fingers across your jaw, leaving a trail of goosebumps that ran down the length of your skin and weakened your knees, clouding your mind with an uncontrollable urge to melt into the arms of imminent death.

Your eyes became hazy, and your eyelashes trembled with an uncontrollable urgency to shutter your eyes closed. Your soul sought his touch, the same way your lungs sought oxygen. You turned your head to the side, looking at the man behind you.

— Is it freedom you seek? Or deep down, is there a hidden desire for something… more thrilling?

You swallowed hard, your emotions a mix of anger and confusion. The way he moved closer, how the dim light of the lanterns reflected on his pale face, made your heart race, but you wouldn’t give in to the attraction you felt. He was just toying with you, you knew you shouldn’t fall into his traps.

— I am not a plaything for your amusement — you replied, your voice firm, though a tremor had started to seep into your words.

Vernon tilted his head, examining you intently. — That’s exactly what you are, dear, a game. What do you think happens when a little mouse gets lost in the cat’s den? Do you think there’s a way out?

He was almost touching you, and the intensity of his presence left trails of fire on your skin, the warmth spreading throughout your body, mingling with the cold of the surroundings. You found yourself wondering if he felt the same if this attraction was just an illusion born of fear — or perhaps it was exactly what he wanted you to feel.

— What do you want? — you asked, your voice now a whisper, almost defiant, but the emotions you were trying to suppress began to bubble to the surface.

Vernon smiled in a way that was both charming and terrifying.

— Intriguing. I could want many things... Your submission, perhaps? Your despair? Or maybe a piece of your resistance, just to see how you break under pressure?

He grasped your chin, tilting your head back against his shoulder. He inhaled along the length of your neck, reveling in the sweet, pure scent that you carried in your being. His red eyes glistened in the darkness; his scent was intoxicating, deep, and primal, making your body react even against your will.

— I will not play your game! — you murmured, indignation breaking through in your words, though your conviction had already begun to waver. What he was doing was dangerous, and you knew you were playing a risky game, a dance of seduction and power.

— You already are, my dear — the provocation in his voice was clear. — Every word you speak, every emotion you reveal, only feeds my curiosity. Do you not understand what’s at stake here?

You tried to remain firm, pulling your face away from Vernon’s touch, but his gaze was so hypnotic it was hard to focus.

— I know you're feeling something you shouldn’t — he whispered, brushing your hair from your shoulders. The soft touch of his cold fingers on your skin made you close your eyes, holding in a sigh. — Your scent betrays you, darling. Part of you wants to surrender, while the other tries to break free.

You bit your lips, trying to keep your composure, but his words were a direct assault on your resistance and desire. The tension between you was oppressive, and the warmth of his body enveloped you as if he were a flame and you, a moth drawn to the light.

— You can’t deny there’s something between us — he whispered, challenging you. — Something that transcends your fear. And if you allowed yourself to feel, you might discover a pleasure you never imagined possible.

His proximity was almost unbearable, and you found yourself on the thin line between surrender and struggle. Each word was a trap, and you were already ensnared in the web he wove without realizing it. Vernon smiled, knowing he was winning the little power struggle between you.

— Surrender, darling.

— I'm no fool — you replied, your voice now weaker, the defiance almost fading into uncertainty.

— No, you're an untamed spirit — he replied, his penetrating gaze making your heart race even more. — And that's your true beauty. But what will you do when your resistance begins to crumble? Will you surrender your soul to me or run away like a frightened kitten?

— I’m not afraid of you— you declared, although your words were nothing more than lies that didn't convince him at all.

— Oh, you are. And it’s that fear that makes this all so delicious. Now, what will you choose? Resistance or surrender?

You found yourself at the edge of a precipice, Vernon’s question resonating in your mind as he awaited your answer, his eyes gleaming with a near-predatory expectation.

Vernon leaned in closer, his eyes penetrating your soul. The space between you diminished even further, and he leaned in, his lips separated by only a breath. You felt the warmth of his presence, and the way he held your hair, elegantly pulling it, made your heart race. He left a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth, intimate and provocative, as if he were peeling away every layer of defense you’d built over the years.

Your eyes met, and you blinked slowly, the internal struggle beginning to dissipate under the intensity of the moment. The way he moved, so close and yet so distant at the same time, made you feel a deep connection that defied your logic.

— I can give you everything you’ve never had — he whispered seductively. — Pleasure, power, freedom. The choice is yours, but you must be willing to surrender.

You hesitated, but something within you, a curiosity and desire, began to shine brighter than fear. You’d never allowed yourself to feel like this, never surrendered to anyone. And yet, here he was, this magnificent and terrifying being you didn’t know, offering a new life, a new experience you never thought you could have.

— I… — you began, but the words were lost as he touched your face with his cold fingers, the softness contrasting with the strength he emanated.

In an unexpected movement, he pulled your face close, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was eager and intense, an explosion of sensations that seemed to break all barriers. It was as if he’d awakened something inside you, a passion and desire that had been hidden, ready to emerge. You felt his cold, demanding lips molding to yours, and the ferocity of the moment consumed you both.

The elegance of the kiss contrasted with the urgency of the moment. It was as if you had known each other for centuries, every movement perfectly synchronized, a supernatural connection. Your emotions intertwined – passion, fear, desire, and a silent understanding that went beyond words. You surrendered, the world around you fading, and for a moment, there were no curses, villages, or sacrifices, only the two of you.

You brought your hands up to his neck, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your fingers, and sighed, surrendering to the intensity of the moment. As he felt your warm sigh against his lips, he abruptly pulled back, surprising you. Your eyes widened in confusion, and before you could protest, he turned you around, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You were surprised by Vernon's speed and strength as he walked to the throne of bones, your pulse quickening with each step. The sinister throne of skulls and bones didn’t terrify you as you expected; in fact, you felt safe, as if that were your place.

Vernon sat, placing you gently in his lap, his powerful presence enveloping you as he observed you with a burning need. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, and you realized that the surrender that once seemed distant now became inevitable.

— Now, you are mine — he declared, his eyes shining with a mix of desire and possession. — And there is nothing you can do to change that.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at those words. Vernon’s tone was final, laden with an authority that seemed to carve his declaration into the air. Your heart raced unevenly, torn between the fear of the unknown and an attraction that felt impossible to resist.  

— I’m not an offering, sir — you replied, your voice low but defiant, reaffirming. It was a fragile attempt to maintain some control over the situation, though your own will was dissolving under the weight of his gaze.  

Vernon’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile as if savoring the confrontation. He tilted his head, his fingers softly tracing the line of your jaw, a touch that felt both like a promise and a threat. Suddenly, he grabbed both sides of your face, locking you in place and reclaiming the dominance he so effortlessly exuded.  

— You’re a bad liar, my sweet little creature. — His voice was a husky whisper, each word dripping with an unsettling familiarity. — Your body has already made its choice. Your soul… well, it was mine the moment you ran straight into my castle.  

You couldn’t explain why, but those words sent a tremor of anticipation and dread through your body. He was terrifying, his sharp eyes reflecting pure power, and everything about him screamed danger. Yet, the gods knew just how much you had longed for the idea of belonging.  

In a late, unpremeditated reflex of self-preservation, you tried to pull away, but his arms tightened around you, firm as steel. Yet there was a surprising gentleness in his control over you. Your eyes never left his, and you saw something there deeper than desire or possession — an abyss of conflicting emotions, dark and seductively enigmatic.  

— Why..? — you whispered, the question slipping out before you could hold it back. — Why is all this happening?  

Vernon paused, his expression softening for a brief moment, as if your question had struck a chord he didn’t expect. His fingers stilled, and he leaned in closer, his lips hovering dangerously near yours.  

— Because, my dear, you’re the only one who can destroy everything — he murmured. — Or save it.  

His words resonated within you like a distant echo of a forgotten prophecy. Before you could process them, Vernon pressed his lips to yours again, this time slower, as if he wanted to etch every second into his memory. The intensity lessened, but the gesture carried a deeper, more possessive meaning.  

When he pulled back, his eyes gleamed with determination.  

— But you won’t have a choice. In the end, you’ll understand.  

And then, he ran a hand along the side of the throne, a casual gesture that made the shadows around you come alive, making even the bravest warriors tremble in fear. The sensation of being under his power was overwhelming; the shadows danced and twisted, forming barriers that pulsed with living energy. It was as though the entire world bent to his will, molding itself to seal your fate.  

Now, more than ever, you felt like you were walking toward something inevitable.  

Vernon’s lips returned to yours, but this time with an urgency you hadn’t expected. It was as though all the careful control he had shown earlier was dissolving. His kisses became more desperate, less precise, yet there was still an innate elegance in every touch. His lips trailed down the line of your jaw, exploring with an almost reverent attention.  

You sighed as you felt his lips trace a slow, deliberate path down your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers through your skin. When he reached your shoulder, his kisses became softer, but the weight of the moment was even more intense. Each touch seemed to claim you, marking not your skin but something deeper, something essential.  

Vernon’s hands, large and firm, slid down your back to your hips. You felt the precise strength of his fingers as he held you, as though he didn’t just want to touch you but anchor you to him. Without warning, he pulled you down against him, the movement firm and possessive. Your body responded before you could think, a warmth spreading through your veins as the closeness between you seemed to erase any trace of space or doubt.  

— You feel it, don’t you? — he murmured against your skin, his voice low and laden with a desire that felt inescapable. — This connection… the destiny.  

His words touched something deep inside you that you didn’t know existed, a call that echoed in your very soul. Your breathing grew uneven, and for a moment, you thought of protesting, of pulling away. But when his fingers lightly pressed against your hips, a fire ignited in you, burning away all doubt.  

You brought your hands to his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but Vernon tilted his face, his dark eyes meeting yours with an almost overwhelming intensity.  

— Don’t fight it, my little creature — he whispered, his voice both a command and a plea. And then his lips were on yours again, more insistent, more voracious. His movements became less calculated, more primal, as though the entire world around you had disappeared, leaving only the two of you and the destiny he seemed so determined to claim.  

Vernon acted like a man insatiable — if he was a man at all. He sought to claim every piece of you with his kisses and needy touches as if quenching the longing for something he hadn’t possessed in a long time. What remained of his earlier delicacy gave way to something raw and primal.  

His lips explored your skin hungrily, descending along your neck and collarbone, where he paused for a moment, pressing kisses that sent a scorching heat through your body. The sharp tips of his white teeth scraped against the crook of your neck.  

You felt his hands grip your hips more firmly, as though he wanted to fuse the two of you into one. He pulled you even closer, and the force of the gesture made you gasp against his lips, the sound escaping involuntarily.  

Vernon lifted his head for a brief moment, his eyes gleaming with an almost feral intensity as he watched you, each heavy breath of his matching your own.  

— See? — he murmured, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. — You belong to me, little creature.  

Before you could respond, he tilted his head again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that seemed to consume everything around you. He moved his hands with confidence, exploring the curves of your body with a mix of urgency and reverence, as if engraving every detail into his memory.  

When he slid one hand along your side, the other remained firm on your hip, holding you against him. His breath was warm and uneven as he kissed the curve of your shoulder, slowly trailing down to the base of your neck. Each movement made your body react in ways you couldn’t control, a mix of desire and a strange sense of surrender that left you breathless.  

You found yourself gripping his shoulders tighter, your fingers digging lightly into his skin as a wave of overwhelming emotions washed over you. Vernon noticed, and his arrogant smile returned for a moment. He leaned his body, adjusting your position on the throne of bones, and you realized just how much at his mercy you were. But strangely, there was no fear. Only an intensity so overwhelming that resisting felt impossible.  

The bones beneath you creaked slightly, creating a trail of mystery and unease, but you were so absorbed by his presence that all you could feel was the electricity flowing between you.

As Vernon held you firmly, his lips traced a gentle path along the length of your neck, each touch affectionate. You tilted your head back, giving him space to continue kissing the skin of your neck and shoulders, holding onto his broad shoulders, trying to find balance as he enveloped you in his powerful presence.

— I missed you so much, darling — he murmured, but the words left you confused as if a mystery lingered over you. What does he mean by that?

Before you could ask, Vernon bit your neck, and the sharp pain exploded through your body, making you scream. It was intense as if time had stopped for a moment, while you found yourself lost between pleasure and agony. The feeling of blood trickling down your skin, the awareness of what was happening, all turned into a nebulous confusion.

You began to feel dizzy from the blood loss, your vision beginning to darken as a metallic taste spread in your mouth. And then, you were thrown to another place, another life.

A vast open field stretched as far as your eyes could see, the fresh morning air still carrying the dampness of the previous night’s rain. Your bare feet sank gently into the wet grass, the sensation both comforting and raw as if grounding you to the earth in a way few things could. Ahead of you, an enormous creature rested. Its coal-black fur gleamed faintly under the first rays of sunlight, and its red eyes, which could inspire terror in any mortal, gazed at you with a mix of reverence and affection.

To the world, he would be a living nightmare, a sight capable of freezing even the bravest in their tracks. But to you, Monster was just that: a big, needy baby, whose soul was as heavy as the footsteps he left upon the earth. You reached out instinctively, your fingers sliding through the dense, coarse strands of his fur as he closed his eyes briefly as if savoring the tenderness of your touch.  

— Who’s my favorite guardian? — you asked in a soft, almost whispered tone, as if protecting a precious secret.  

He replied with a deep, guttural growl, easily mistaken for a threat, but you knew it was pure happiness. A sound that vibrated in his chest, resonating through the air, and brought an involuntary smile to your lips.  

— Yes, it’s you — you confirmed, your eyes meeting his once more.  

There was something deeply moving in that exchange of gazes, an understanding that transcended words and forms. You knew he was more than the monster his fearsome appearance suggested – he was yours.  

Your guardian. The creature who would kill anyone just to protect you.  

He moved closer, his massive head resting gently against your shoulder, as though seeking a comfort only you could provide. The connection between you was as visceral as it was inexplicable. In the vast and silent field, surrounded only by nature, you were two exiles who had found a home in each other.  

Vernon’s whispered voice pulled you from that memory, only to throw you into another, further back. — It’s been so many years this time, darling. I suffered every day you weren’t here.

The small room seemed even smaller under the silver moonlight timidly filtering through the dusty window. The air was heavy, almost tangible, carrying the unspoken intentions that lingered between you and Vernon. Shadows danced on the walls, partially concealing your figure as he remained motionless, a predator waiting for the right moment.  

— I know you're here, Vernon. — Your voice cut through the silence firmly, but not without a hint of provocation. — Come out now.  

For a moment, everything stayed still, the sound of your breathing filling the room. Then, he emerged from the shadows with the ease of someone who had always belonged to them. The smile that spread across his lips was predatory, sharp, and dangerous. He ran his tongue slowly over his fangs, a gesture that should have made you uncomfortable but only fueled the tension between you.  

— You were quite confident I’m not a killer — he said, his voice low, laced with a veiled threat.  

You raised an eyebrow, responding with a defiant smile as you stepped forward, closing the distance between you.  

— You are a killer, darling. — Your provocation was accompanied by a look that said you knew exactly what you were getting into.  

Before you could react, Vernon moved with feline speed, his strong arm wrapping around your shoulders as he lifted you effortlessly. Your back met the wall with a light impact, enough to remind you of your vulnerability. He leaned in, bringing his face closer to yours, his warm breath brushing against your skin.  

— Then you should be terrified — he murmured, the threat in his words softened by the kisses he trailed along your shoulder. His lips were insistent yet controlled, struggling against the evident desire to bite.  

You tilted your head, exposing more of your neck in a gesture that seemed both defiant and submissive.  

— I’m not afraid of you, darling. — Your voice was low but carried a strength that made Vernon’s eyes narrow.  

He laughed, a deep, almost amused sound, as he tilted his head to the side, observing you like he was assessing his next move. Suddenly, his tongue slid across your cheek, an unexpected gesture that carried as much challenge as it did desire.  

Before you could respond, he lowered his head, his teeth capturing your shoulder gently. The bite was firm but controlled, leaving a trail of heat where his fangs grazed your skin. There was no pain, only enough pressure to remind you of who he was and the power he held at his fingertips.  

The air around you seemed to crackle, charged with an almost tangible electricity. It was as if fate itself was caught in the fine lines between you, pulling you closer with every word, every touch, every provocation. And in that moment, in the silence of the moonlit room, you knew there was something irrevocable about what you shared.

— Nothing will take you from me now, I promise — Vernon's voice pulled you out of that memory again, throwing you into a much more cruel one.

The world around him seemed to crumble slowly, as if time itself had decided to prolong the agony of the moment. Vernon knelt by your side, his hands trembling as they held yours, his eyes lost in a void so deep it seemed there was no return. The shadows on his face highlighted the pain etched into his expression, every feature marked by guilt and remorse.  

Your body felt heavy, sinking into something that was both physical and ethereal, as if the line between life and death was dissolving. The pressure of the silver dagger embedded in your chest was a constant reminder of what was happening. Each breath felt like a battle, the air burning your throat as the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. You coughed, the weak, wet sound breaking the somber silence that surrounded you both.  

Vernon’s eyes finally met yours, and something in them shifted. The pain he had tried to hide spilled over, leaving him as vulnerable as you. He gripped your hand tighter, as if that alone could stop you from slipping further away.  

— This won’t happen again, darling, I promise. Never again. — His voice broke on the last word, every syllable laden with the hopelessness of someone who had already lost everything and couldn’t bear the thought of losing again.  

You wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. There was no strength to form the syllables that might have eased his pain—or yours. The connection between you, even in such a tragic moment, was unbreakable, a bond forged in something deeper than time or circumstance.  

Vernon lowered his head, pressing his forehead against your bloodied hands as if praying to a god he knew would not listen. His body trembled slightly, but his resolve was clear. He wasn’t just making a promise to you; he was making it to himself.  

The distant sound of thunder rumbled through the air, but neither of you paid it any attention. The world outside was irrelevant. There was only the two of you, trapped in that instant, sharing the pain and love that defined the essence of everything you were.  

And as the light began to fade from your vision, you saw something in Vernon’s gaze. Not just regret or sorrow, but a dark, almost dangerous resolve. Something that said, if he had to defy fate itself to keep that promise, he would.  

Reality rushed back to you like a lightning bolt, cutting through the haze of unconsciousness that had clouded your mind. Your body was overwhelmed by a new and strange sensation—a mix of overpowering strength and unsettling vulnerability. Your eyes opened slowly, and the world around you seemed sharper, more alive, as though every detail carried an intensity you had never noticed before.  

And then your eyes locked on him again.  

Vernon’s figure was cloaked in an aura of dark majesty, but there was something different in his sharp eyes—a rare warmth.  

— Vernon? — Your voice came out as a fragile whisper, full of confusion and recognition.  

He didn’t respond immediately, merely continuing to watch you, as if committing every detail of your expression to memory. Tears began to stream down your face, tracing warm paths over your cheeks as you struggled to process what had happened.  

— What did you do? — Your voice trembled, laden with disbelief and a mix of surprise and anxiety.  

Vernon leaned forward, the shadow of a smile on his lips, but his eyes were intense, carrying the weight of the world.  

— I transformed you. — His voice was deep yet soft, a combination of disdain for the world around him and a nearly desperate affection for you. — You will never be apart from me again. I cannot lose you, not ever again…  

His words struck you like a blow and an embrace all at once, and your body shuddered. Vernon extended his hand, his fingers brushing your face with a tenderness that contrasted with the possessiveness in his gaze.  

— You are mine forever. — He declared, the words sinking deep into your soul, sending shivers down your spine.  

You closed your eyes, feeling emotions crash within you—the despair of this sudden twist in your life, the weight of eternity beside someone as intense as Vernon, and a spark of something undeniable that felt much like relief. As you trembled in his arms, his firm hands held you steady, anchoring you to a new reality.  

And there, in that room consumed by silence and Vernon’s overwhelming presence, you realized there was no going back. The line between love and obsession, between fear and desire, was completely blurred.  

You belonged to him, just as he had always belonged to you.  

Forever.

[nebbyy]

hello could you do headcanons smut of baldwin and his chubby wife

King Baldwin x reader - Nsfw headcanons

A/N: Wow these is the first explicit stuff I write for Baldwin!! Thank you so much for this prompt, thinking of a chubby medieval woman makes me think of all the portraits of beautiful women with the most harmonious curves I've ever seen😩😩

As always painting name is Romeo and Juliet by Frank Bernard Dicksee for my art enthusiasts :))

Warning: SMUT, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

Unlike modern times, a fuller body has always been sign of beauty and fertility through western history

Although during medieval times anything related to attractiveness and sensuality was deemed as "bad", that still meant that a chubby woman would've been judged not for being against the beauty standard, but to be actually too tempting for the public!

So it comes without saying that young king Baldwin thought he might pass out the first time he saw you, knowing you were his betrothed

You'd awakened something in him, this burning desire to have you, to know how your soft curves would feel in his hands, how your silky skin would brush against his own

I see him having a long series of consecutive days where he woke up drenched in sweat, body slightly trembling as he'd come out of yet another wet dream about you, lying beneath him as he had his sweet way with you

He felt himself getting more and more impatient for the wedding night day to come, to finally be able to call you his

He'd also be quite insecure at first, and scared too. What if the sight of his body repulsed you? What if you wouldn't want to go near him to avoid the risk of getting the disease as well?

He wouldn't blame you for it, it'd be the wiser decision for the both of you

But still, he prays and hopes and dreams that you'd return the attraction he felt from you from the very start. He longs for the feeling of your touch against his numb body

He's a bundle of nerves during the whole ceremony, but he's good at hiding it (well the veil covering his head is); he seems to all calm down only once you're both sitting next to each other at the banquet, and you tentatively lay your soft hand over his laying on the table, shy touches blessing his skin

That night your marriage is consumed in no time, he's basically as gentle as humanly possible while he holds you in his arms, as he's slowly penetrating you

There was no really developed knowledge of foreplay or female anatomy in the middle ages, but it just felt natural for Baldwin to keep his focus on your every reactions while the two of you are making love

He doesn't know what he's doing, and neither do you considering that at that time you probably haven't even seen a naked man other than Baldwin himself, but that doesn't stop the two of you from exploring each other, taking your time to get to know what you like, what makes your eyes roll back and your back arch

I'm not sure if he'd be down for oral, I kind of see him as being a bit self conscious of the level of decay his mouth and face has reached, and I'm not too sure his cum would actually taste good with leprosy and all

Nevertheless, his fingers and cock are more than enough to bring you more pleasure than you could ever imagine

Don't expect any public stuff, Baldwin is still an extremely religious man whose values are not to be messed with: these things are meant for the privacy of your quarters alone, there's no need for him to bring this sacred thing you two have out where all eyes could possibly see

He'd probably be more on the vanilla side, being mostly against anything related to giving pain (he'd be indifferent to receiving it since his body is mainly numb, but he wouldn't enjoy it either)

Although he would probably enjoy being the more dominant one in the bedroom, the power dynamic would still remain on a pretty balanced level: you're still his beloved wife, his only equal in his eyes. That's why I could confidently say that Baldwin is the perfect example of soft dom

His favorite position would probably be missionary, just so that he could be able to see your pretty face while he pounds into you

Also because he could get to hold your plush thighs and see the delightful rolls that form on your belly

Your body screams femininity and fertility to him, an alluring combination that gets him going for as much time as you two have

His numbness also grants him a reduced sensibility, so he can afford to go more rounds at a time without having too many problems from it

But as the years pass, his mobility becomes more restricted by his declining health, and along with his agility and stamina in battle his sickness gets the best of him even in the bedroom

And through it all, his burning desire for you was what got him going, what made him spare just a little more energies to later spend with you

The two of you would have to adapt, though, probably changing positions and frequency at which you guys have sex

You might start trying to be the one on top, and he'd guide your every movement while also trying not to lose his mind over just how perfect you look riding him, your every curve bouncing as you move up and down over his cock

He dreams of giving you a baby in those moments, filling you up to the brim, seeing your body get even fuller with your conjoint love. It really saddens him to think that it might never happen

But hope is the last one to die, and he gets his hopes up every time that he comes into your welcoming body, emptying his seed into you, hoping that one day this union will give life to a creature as beautiful as its mother

[fozmeadows]

TERFism really is just white beauty politics in a pseudo-feminist hat, because there's simply no escaping the fact that every concern-trolling argument TERFs make against transition, and particularly towards trans men, boils down to the worst thing you can be is an ugly woman, where "ugly" is code for "insufficiently young, white and/or traditionally feminine."

The ridiculing of trans women, for instance, centers disgust at the idea of anyone with traditionally "masculine" features attempting to pass as female, which - as has been well-documented by this point - frequently sees butch women, women of colour, older women, tall women, strong women, and any other woman who doesn't fit this dogwhistle standard of prettiness caught in the crossfire. Masculinity is incompatible with beauty, this logic goes, and all women must be beautiful. Ergo, the more masculine you appear, the less female you are. TERFs, of course, will try to deny their active participation in anything so ragingly unfeminist as policing women's bodies in pursuit of a narrow physical ideal, and yet, as the recent furor over Imane Khalif has roundly shown, this is exactly what they end up doing: an endless reinvention of new and shittier forms of phrenology to explain why this woman or that is not, in fact, really a woman.

Accepting trans women who don't, by conventional standards, pass, means accepting the femininity of women - both cis and trans - who diverge from these beauty standards: who have facial hair or receding hairlines, deep voices or big hands and feet, who are muscular or tall or strong-jawed, who are either incapable or undesirous of pregnancy, or one of a thousand other things we're told (despite the fact that humans are not a strongly dimorphic species) are exclusively masculine traits. But trans women who do pass engender a different terror: the fear that beauty is not an exclusively "feminine" inheritance, such that someone deemed a man might natively posses it and thereby render "real" feminine beauty somehow less special.

And then we have the scaremongering around trans men, which frequently presents as "concern" over, specifically, impressionable girls and young women being tricked into harming their healthy bodies by the nefarious Trans Cabal. That this same concern is never extended to adult women is the giveaway, because adult women are, by this reckoning, inherently less valuable, being neither as pretty nor as fertile as their younger counterparts. It's already too late to prevent their inevitable descent into the ugliness of ageing, and either they're parents already (in which case, their biological purpose has been served, thus rendering their identities past that point moot) or else have been written off as too old for childbearing anyway (which adds to their irrelevance).

Which makes it all the more ironic how many of the stated negatives of transition for trans men dovetails with things the cis female body normally does as it ages and/or postpartum. Long-term binding is decried for the way it causes the breasts to sag or deform and the nipples to enlarge, for instance, when this is exactly what happens as a consequence of pregnancy and breastfeeding. An increase in facial and body hair is common for post-menopausal women, let alone those with PCOS. Plenty of women naturally have deep voices, with many growing raspier regardless with age, while both ageing and childbirth inevitably alter the appearance of genitalia, sometimes radically. Even top surgery, the procedure most maligned as "butchery," has its cis analogues: not only for survivors of breast cancer or those who, due to genetic predisposition towards aggressive forms of it, opt for preventative mastectomies, but those who undergo breast reduction surgery, whether for cosmetic or health reasons - while some women, on yet a third hand, are natively flat-chested.

Taken together, then, what unifies the demonizing fear of trans women and the infantilizing dismissal of trans men by TERFs is an obsession with a specific, youth-and-Eurocentric-based notion of female beauty, where being deemed too masculine in either direction is the disqualifying factor. In TERFlandia, masculinity therefore becomes a synonym for ugliness: trans women can't shed it sufficiently to be counted at any age (unless they pass, which is a prospect too terrifying to countenance), while trans men must be stopped at all costs from embracing it (unless they're already old, in which case they no longer matter). Which is not to say that transphobia more broadly lacks for other avenues of attack; it's just that concern around trans bodies and the necessity of controlling them inevitably circles back to beauty, youth and fertility as the abiding hallmarks of womanhood, and as soon as you point this out, all the other arguments start to unravel.

[iiseult]

Hello, I was wondering what the life of the female reader would be like when King Baldwin was not a leper. I mean, what would their life be like together as a married couple?

𝐵𝒶𝓁𝒹𝓌𝒾𝓃 𝐼𝒱 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈: 𝒩𝑜𝓃-𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

CWs → fluff, smut, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of religion, childbirth

Note: I know this took like over a month to get to, but in my defense I was working on completing the first arc of my multichapter Baldwin x reader fic. Also, if anyone’s interested, I started posting an alternate version of that on ao3 that’s in third person and from the perspective of a girl named Semele. As far as actual writing goes I think it’s much better quality simply because I don’t have to do all that corny second person bullshit or use the words “Y/N.” That’s a real pain in my ass. Anyway! 

Wordcount: 852

King Baldwin’s standards are high. He is a gorgeous young man with the world at his fingertips and he wants a woman, not a girl, to explore it with him. 

She must be good. She does not need to be rich or noble, but she needs to be selfless and kind and bold. And he needs someone who can match him in intellect so he doesn’t get bored. 

His hair frames his face in charming golden waves that fall to about his chin. His eyes are a deep cerulean, lined by long lashes, and his lips are pink and shapely, if a bit on the thin side. The nose is strong and straight, the jaw is square and sharp, the cheekbones are high and structured, and the skin covering it all is smooth and healthy. A light smattering of tiny freckles paint his nose and cheeks. His body is strong, with substantial broad shoulders, and what muscle he has is subtle but genuine. 

Sometimes his movements are awkward, a little different from other well-bred boys his age, and perhaps that’s what makes him so appealing. So mysterious. And, by the way, he certainly is appealing. 

Every woman that lays eyes on him, and even some that have never had that honor and know of him only from word of mouth, want him. Every woman thinks she can somehow be good enough for him. Of course, maybe one in one thousand of them actually is. 

When a lady finally catches his eye, it would be for her wit or her bravery. Perhaps she would beat him in a game of chess, or speak out against what she thinks is wrong. The more cruelty in her smile, the more attractive she becomes. 

When he proposes, it’s very romantic, very personal, and above all, very private. Though he surely makes the experience memorable for his future wife, he doesn’t do anything over-the-top. It does not involve other people, and perhaps it doesn’t even take place at a particular spot. The most important part of the proposal, after all, is the words he is speaking, the vow he is making. He puts his silver tongue to good use, so that saying no isn’t even an option anymore. How could she possibly turn him down? 

 He can’t wait to get his hands on her. The wedding night is something he has long been looking forward to, knowing that it would be worth it to wait for the right woman, and of course, it exceeds his expectations. How could he have guessed how soft, how supple her flesh would feel beneath him? How sweet and yielding? There was nothing that could have prepared him for the feeling of warmth that wholly enveloped him the first time they made love. It was something that could never be recreated by his own hand. It could only ever occur by the soft hand, or the cruel, relentless lips of his young wife. 

His body is young and robust, as is hers, and they are both brimming with passion and want. The first month of the marriage is spent mostly alone together, trapped in an endless cycle of tiring each other out, sleeping, waking, and doing the whole damned thing all over again. It would take no time at all for the seed to be planted in her fertile womb and a baby to begin to grow. 

Seeing his wife pregnant would only make him fall in love with her more, if such a thing were even possible. Now she is carrying a little miracle inside her, and to him, the world around her positively glows. He is, in a word, infatuated. So proud. He takes her into town and practically parades her around, the curve of her swollen belly growing more and more obvious under the fabric of her gown. Isn’t she beautiful, he would say to Raymond, and to Sybilla, and to anyone else who was unlucky enough to engage him in conversation. 

During the birth, he stayed by her side. He was the one to wipe the sweat from her forehead with damp towels, to hold her hand and cry softly from seeing her in such pain. He loves her so much, and he was going to love that baby, too. He was going to positively spoil it. That is, if it didn’t kill her! He cries more than she does during the birth, and though he does everything he can to ease her pain and help the midwife speed along the process, mostly he can do nothing but stand around and wring his hands and look helplessly at his love, his eyes swimming with wild fear and affection and awe. She’s so strong, how is she doing it? 

Once the baby is born, though the sheets of her bed are soiled with various fluids, he lays down next to his wife and holds her in his arms and she holds their baby in her arms, and they all sleep, a perfect family. The baby is going to look just like her, he thinks, and he will love it. 

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

I've given this a hell of a lot of thought over the years.

There are moral arguments that can be made that should apply equally to both sexes, but I think they always fall short of real-life experience because they completely miss what is actually going on under the hood of the human machine, the hardwiring below the conscious mind and whatever it's believing in any given moment.

Men and women evolved over millions of years to have different reproduction strategies: men evolved to fundamentally want to impregnate just about every healthy and fertile young female they see, and then move onto the next one, and the next one, and the next one, in order to have the best chance of their DNA continuing on after they are gone. Because men don't carry and birth the children, men can practically never be sure that the child a woman presents them with is truly their own, so the hardwired survival strategy they ended up with is to cast the seed far and wide.

Women, on the other hand, never have this dilemma: no woman who feels a baby kicking inside her has to wonder if she's pregnant, or is unsure if she has given birth or not when she sees the head emerging from between her legs.

So women evolved to prioritize and pursue other things; to look for and select the best physical quality and highest social status man they can, in order to 1) create a healthy child, and 2) feel fairly confident that man will stick around to protect and provide for her while she is increasingly incapacitated the following 9 months and then hopefully continue to help support her and the child afterwards as she nurses and nurtures it.

Women are innately more cautious about who they engage in sex with because of the much greater cost of pregnancy. This is so strong and commonly observed a drive in the female half of the species that women who don't prioritize these things, and just hop into bed with every Tom, Dick, Dick, Dick and Harry are, all across the world, perceived to be of lower-status and a very bad bet for a relationship.

For men, it's a huge leap of trust to believe that the woman they are with is not lying to them about any offspring she brings him, and so any signs that that woman is unfaithful feels a much bigger red flag.

When a woman sleeps around, it indicates to a man that she is the kind of woman who he could never be sure of if she said she was pregnant with his child. So when a woman cheats on a man, it's more likely to sever that trust forever, and she instantly becomes greatly diminished in value in his eyes.

Feminists call this a double standard and "slut-shaming", and wrongly believe it to be, like everything else, societally-created, and so should be able to be uprooted simply through the dissemination of endless angry (and, ironically, shaming) propaganda. But this ideological narrative entirely ignores and misunderstands the realities of the bodies our conscious minds arose from and inhabit, and so was always doomed to failure from day one.

But anyway, that's why men don't forgive cheating, if you really want to hear the truth.