#i have a semi-drabble written/in mind for this

[dingbatnix]

They're all very...shocked, I think.

Also in color! (But I like it less)

(yes I did change the bottom image, I forgot to add the background color xD)(they're in the nether btw)

Taglist:

@brick-a-doodle-do @i-am-beckyu @da3dm @kayla-crazy-stuffs @local-squishmallow @skullsnbruises @munchkin1156 @gt-daboss

[quackfallbackhq]

Transformers Autobots Characters Reacting To They're S/o Thinking Of Having Their Sparkling's (NSFW DRABBLES?)

(semi) SMUT - you been warned

The characters are written down below are,, Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Ratchet, Jazz, Ironhide, Sideswipe, Crosshairs, Drift, Hound and Hotrod.

Optimus Prime

Optimus stills—his entire frame locked as your whispered words register.

You thought about having sparkings anyway.

His spark flares, heat thrumming through his frame as his servos instinctively tighten on your hips. His optics dim, processor struggling to keep up with the sheer weight of what you just confessed.

“You… thought about carrying mine?” His voice is low, rough—there’s something primal lurking beneath the usual control.

And then he groans, optics flickering as he pulls you closer, his frame still deeply connected to yours.

“… Then let’s make it happen.”

Bumblebee

Bee’s entire frame shutters, vents stuttering as he tries to process what you just said.

"You… you thought about it?"

His servos tremble against your thighs, his engine revving instinctively. You feel the way his spark pulses against yours, how his field tightens around you.

His optics flash, helm pressing into your shoulder as he grinds into you just a little more—still sensitive but reacting to the idea.

“Primus, you can’t just say that,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck, voice thick with something deep, something needy. “Now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Ratchet

Ratchet’s processor blue screens.

Like—this wasn’t a conversation he expected to have while still buried inside you.

His optics flicker, his servo gripping your waist as his vents struggle to cycle properly.

“… You want that?” His voice is rough, almost hoarse.

You nod, hips shifting just slightly against him, and he growls—low, deep, his spark flaring as the implications of what you’re saying hit hard.

“… Then we might need to test your frame’s compatibility,” he mutters, lips grazing your jaw. “Thoroughly.”

Jazz

Jazz whimpers.

Like, actually whimpers.

His processor is fried, his entire frame shuddering as your words settle into his very spark.

“Oh, frag—”

He buries his face against your chest, field wrapping around yours in a desperate, needy embrace.

"You can't just say that, babe,” he pants, his servos gripping your hips, optics blazing.

But then—he grins, lazy and sultry, his hips rolling just slightly to emphasize he’s still deep inside you.

“… Guess we better keep trying ‘til we know for sure, huh?”

Ironhide

Ironhide’s engine rumbles.

Your words sink in slowly—his processor taking an extra second to fully grasp what you just admitted.

And then?

His grip tightens.

"You thought about it, huh?" His voice is low, deep, filled with something possessive.

His optics flash, his entire field surging around you as he pulls you closer, his plating still pressed flush against yours.

“… Then maybe it’s time we stop thinking and make it real.”

Sideswipe

“Oh, frag, you mean that?”

Sideswipe’s vents shudder, his entire frame twitching from overstimulation, but frag if he doesn’t immediately react to what you just whispered.

You feel his engine rev, his servo gripping your thigh as his processor struggles to keep up.

"Primus, you can’t just drop that on me right after—"

His optics flicker, something hungry brewing in his expression.

“… You sure? ‘Cause I really wouldn’t mind putting in some more… effort.”

Crosshairs

Crosshairs chokes.

Like, full-on chokes. His vents glitch, his entire frame going rigid as his processor shuts down for a solid three seconds.

Then—his optics flick to yours. Wide.

“Wait, wait—you what?”

You smirk, shifting just slightly around him, and he groans, helm dropping back as his servos tighten around you.

"Primus, you can't just say stuff like that—" He pauses, optics flickering with something darker.

"... But if you're serious, sweetheart? Then frag, we better get to work."

Drift

Drift stills.

His optics are dark, his vents slow and measured—but his field? It flares so intensely around you that you feel the weight of his emotions immediately.

“… You would carry mine?”

His servo drifts to your abdomen, his plating still intimately pressed against yours as his spark pulses hard.

The reverence in his gaze, the way his lips part slightly as he drinks in your words—it’s overwhelming.

“… Then let us not waste time, my love.”

Hound

Hound groans—deep, rough, his entire frame thrumming beneath you.

"You thought about it?" His voice is gravelly, optics flickering as his servos tighten on your waist.

Then, suddenly, his lips are on you again—claiming, desperate, his spark pulsing violently against yours.

“… Then we better make damn sure it happens.”

And with the way he rolls his hips? Oh, he’s not stopping anytime soon.

HotRod

Hot Rod whimpers.

Like, actually whimpers. His vents are shaky, his optics wide as your words fully register.

“… Wait. You mean that?”

His field flares, his servos locking around your waist as his processor overheats.

You nod—smug, teasing���and he groans, his engine revving uncontrollably.

"Oh, frag, babe—you know I’m gonna make sure it happens now, right?”

And with the way his hips instinctively buck into yours again? Yeah, you knew exactly what you were doing.

notes - you can read this as different transformers shows or comics you wish, I personally imagine these of Bayverse autobots x cybertronian reader, there's still more I want to write down but let me know if you want more of different things!

[jellykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 064 -Drabbles: Birthday! Boy! Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Strawberry Kisses ] ¡! ❞

"Sarang, you didn't have to" Jinwoo smiles as he sees the cake prepared for him.

A typical strawberry cake with jam in the middle of it instead if a typical written "Happy Birthday".

"So this is why my sons were uncooperative in letting me see what you have been up to for the last few hours" He then affectionately pinches your cheek "You didn't have to"

"Don't be such a mood killer" You giggle, kissing his cheek affectionately. "It's your special day, why wouldn't it we celebrate it?"

Because I spent at least a hundred years not celebrating it before he regressed to meet you again.

Of course, he would never say that part out loud. He would never want to upset you.

Instead, he reaches his hand out and brushes your hair away from that pretty face he engraved into his brain.

"Come on, make a wish! Beru helped me in picking out this cake!" You say, urging him to come after putting the candle in and lighting it up.

"Yes, I worked hard my liege—" Beru's little head appeared over on your shoulder but Jinwoo immediately flicked him away.

"This is my moment so shoo" He simply puts him in the land of repose(yes, it's timeout if you are asking)

"I thought you said your shadows are your kids? Why are you so mean?"

"Dad wants time with mom"

"Hahah"

That sweet laughter of yours.

That was the sound the echoed in his mind over the years of his fight against the monarchs and gods.

And as you start singing happy birthday to him in that imperfectly perfect voice of yours— He cant help but feel more in love that what he already is.

He wanted to cherish this moment, embed it into his memory and heart so that it may never become just a fleeting moment.

"Make a wish!" You cheer, pushing the cake gently to him.

Jinwoo shakes his head and leans down to blow out the candles.

". . . ."

He then feels something wet on his cheek when you poked him and reached to inspect.

"Why you little..." Jinwoo chuckles as he sees the icing on his fingertip, "Come here!"

And thus, he started chasing you around the apartment. He eventually caught you of course, who do you think he is?

"Did Jinah teach you to be this mischievous?" He rubs his cake-stained cheek against yours. "Mn.. My cutie is being a troublemaker."

"Ack, no, I'm sorry!" You burst into giggles as your feel his hands tickling your sides.

"Heh..." He simply smiles.

Can't he just stay here for a little while longer? Bask in this simple moment? Celebrating birthdays, sharing hugs, sharing laughter, sharing affection kisses.

Can't he stay here for just a little bit longer?

"So what did you wish for?" You ask when he finally stopped playing around.

"I wished that everyday I get to see you smile" He presses your foreheads together. "That we can be this happy everyday."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: I'll be going on a semi-hiatus until the end of april or may sjdjshs. I dont really post that frequently but I'll still be here dw. I just need to catch up with my schoolworks. I have ten units i need to finish by may 30 so I hope you all understand. I still have a line of fics on wip and about to be made so I wont just drop off dead xD ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[jjenthusee]

🎃 Halloween Shenanigans 🎃

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: In preparation for October, I wanted to write some small Halloween drabbles that seemed so hilarious in my mind ☺️ ENJOY :) leave any comments and reblog <3

Tags: lame jason makes me giggle, unhinged jason, clingy jason??

Check out Pt. 2 here!

“You can’t be serious.” You eyed Jason up and down, judgement written all over your face.

He stood in his full Red Hood gear, holsters strapped on his legs, helmet shined, and leather jacket worn.

“What? It’s perfect.” He stood up from the edge of the bed, walking closer to you.

“It’s a Halloween event and you’re dressed up as yourself?!” You felt the vein popping up in your head. “I thought you were supposed to keep your identity…oh, I don’t know…hidden?”

“I’ve done it before, no one bats an eye. Heh, ya get it?” Jason chuckles at his accidental lame joke.

You raised an eyebrow, he was not taking any of the concern seriously.

“Sweets, it’s fine. Have you seen how many shitty Robin and Nightwing outfits there are? There’s nothing to worry about.”

—

“You take that back!” Jason pointed a finger at the stranger testing his patience for the night.

“No! Your costume sucks!” A little boy dressed in a Robin costume yelled back at Jason. The small domino mask on his face slowly slipping from his nose the longer he raised his voice. Their difference in height was laughable if it weren’t for Jason arguing with a literal child. “You painted the Red Hood symbol wrong and your jacket sucks too!”

You were feeling a headache itching into your head.

“What?! Kid, I’m the real fuc—“

“Okay! Okay, my friend here has had too much candy for the night.” You yelled louder before Jason could finish his sentence, glaring at him before you turned around back to the young child.

“Friend?!” You heard Jason yell from behind your back as you crouched, he was getting more offended by the second.

“Hush!” You harshly whispered back to your boyfriend.

After you were eye-level with the kid, you promised to let him rummage in your bag of candy. Letting him pick out anything from the selection while Jason paced back and forth murmuring to himself at the disadvantage he was in.

The boy was actually a nice kid as he told you about how his dad helped him sew the costume together. He was yapping away in his excitement as he took one of the full-sized candy bars that you brought to give out to other kids.

“I died and this is what I have to deal with? How about you take a crowbar—“

You swung your head back while the kid was distracted, frowning at the large man behind you. He immediately didn’t finish his thought at your unamused look, but instead settled for crossing his arms across his chest as he glared down the boy still talking to you.

Before the boy left, he told you he had lost his dad before he ended up at your front door.

Once you calmed the kid down and promised to help, Jason followed you out to try to find the boy’s dad, but there was still unsettled tension in the sudden enemies who walked next to you as you searched.

Every time Jason tried to get closer to you, the kid switched sides holding onto your hand, becoming a tiny barrier in between the two of you.

You kept your head forward, not acknowledging the two fighting behind you as the kid stuck out his tongue and Jason subtly trying to whisper back insults.

Once you found the father, you were finally relieved. You were receiving thanks from the boy’s dad before Jason kneeled down to see the boy at eye level. They stared at one another as they seemed to be having a semi-friendly conversation.

You eyed the two while you finished your conversation, not believing them to be suddenly getting along.

“You better watch your back.” Jason quietly talked.

“You’re not scary.” The boy glared, his expression not seen from where you stood.

“What’s wrong with the kids these days?” Jason murmured under is breath. “My gear—costume isn’t lame.”

“It’s lame. You don’t even have your guns. Red Hood has guns.”

With a large sigh from Jason and your side glance burning the side of his head, he gave in as you wondered what the two of them were talking about.

“I’ll buy you a large soda and another big candy bar if you hug me, so I don’t get yelled at later.”

“Two sodas.” The child negotiated.

“You’re pushing it, kid.” In one tilt of his helmet, Jason watched you smile to the man. “Deal.”

When you looked back, the two supposedly bickering enemies were embraced in a friendly hug. You watched in confusion, but the boy’s dad was cooing at how well they got along.

“Say ‘You’re so cool’ and you’ll get two candy bars.” Jason whispered at the side of the boys head while they still hugged.

The kid loudly yells his words, mimicking an excited tone.

“Oh, you two get along so well, thank you for finding my son. You two lovebirds enjoy your night.” The dad left with his son and his large haul of candy and other sweets.

You watched as they walked away in the opposite direction of your home.

The Red Hood standing next to you was surprisingly quiet, no quick remark or other insult.

Before you were about to grab Jason’s waist to turn around, the small figure caught your eye.

While you half held Jason, you watched as the young boy stuck out his tongue in one final jab at the man in your arms.

“You little—I can’t believe that lil’ shit got free candy outta me.” Jason puffed, finally deciding to raise the white flag of surrender.

You couldn’t hold back the smile on your face. A gentle laugh leaving you as you couldn’t see your boyfriend pout, but you knew him so well that you could imagine it under the helmet.

You nudged Jason, guiding him into a walk back to your home.

He had squeezed you by the shoulder, letting his arm rest around you and you reciprocated a loose arm around his waist.

“How much money did u lose on the kid?” You grabbed onto his gloved hand hanging in the air, intertwining your fingers. The momentum of your steps pushing you into a leisure stroll.

“$10 and so many snacks. Lil’ fucker knows how to negotiate.” Jason spoke through gritted teeth.

You laughed into the night air, remembering the image of them glaring at one another.

“You met your match tonight, Mr. Red Hood.” You smirked.

[charliemwrites]

Greater Bad - Part 5!

This is the final chapter of this series. I had so much fun working on it, making myself write a character that was genuinely just really mean most of the time and not chickening out by softening him (mostly).

Again, a gigantic, smooch-filled thank you to ceilidho for letting me write this based off her drabble/concept.

(The concept comes from @ceilidho’s concept/drabble of “military asset Soap” and heavily inspired also by @391780’s Nikto version. Please go check out theirs because they’re brilliantly written.)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con Elements, Unreliable Narrator, Semi-Safe/Not-Sane/Dub-Con Intimacy

You still smell the same.

Clean water, soap and skin. It saturates the back of his tongue when he inhales deep. The sharp, cloying scent of printer ink has been replaced by the buttery aroma of bread and sugar. It’s better. His mouth waters, canines too big and sharp in his mouth, jawing aching to bite down until he’s teething on bone. Scrape his imprint into marrow.

Some shrink mentioned it in those first sessions, before Laswell and Price realized their precious Johnny wasn’t lost in the hole in his temple.

The human olfactory sense is strongly associated with our memory. What smells like home to you, Soap?

The jagged puzzle of his mind didn’t have a piece for home. But it had one for his – you – and that’s just as good.

The humidity in the shower leaves him drowning in the scent of you, lungs heaving. If they’d waterboarded him with your perfume, he wouldn’t have struggled at all.

“Easy, easy,” your voice derails him.

Velvet and smooth, purring in the bottom of your throat. It bounces off the walls and cracks across his skull, a concussive force, disorients him. He grips tighter to keep his balance, swaying into you. You’re all slick and soft, caught between his body and the wall, nothing but naked skin and those big eyes that drive him more mad.

His face is still buried in the vulnerable curve of your neck; you taste just as good as you smell. You jump when he nips, a high noise caught on your clumsy tongue. He growls, wants to hear it. Wants to be overwhelmed by you until all his senses are blown out.

“I’m not saying no,” you soothe, hands skittering down his biceps.

Of course you’re not, not his girl. It’s not a matter of yes or no, not for the two of you. The moon doesn’t agree to orbit the Earth, the sun doesn’t choose to shine. You’re the gravity keeping his feet on the ground.

“Slow down a bit,” you murmur, “We’re not in a rush, are we?”

Just hearing you say “we” sends his heart thundering double-time and euphoria flooding his poisoned veins. “We” - you and him. You squeak as he thrusts hard against your lower stomach, where you’re pillowy and perfect from a life of plenty.

He doesn’t even process what you’ve said for a few moments, too busy nibbling “we” into your shoulder. Only when you thread shaky fingers into his hair – too excited to keep them steady, sweet thing – does his head surface over the swelling waves of desire to hear you properly.

“Missed you,” he explains, raking fingers over your thigh in hopes it’ll bruise. Your mouth parts on a gasp, inviting him in. He ravages your mouth, teeth snagging your plush lips. Needs to leave his mark everywhere for always. Don’t you get that? How could you ask him to slow down when your skin is still pristine, your cunt all tight and unspoiled – a fucking tragedy that.

“Ye missed me too, aye?” he asks. Of course you did, of course. Made this pretty little cottage for the two of you, filled it with so many things that he could never forget where he is again.

“I ken ye did.” He does you the favor of answering, since you’re too busy with his fingers in your mouth. You’ve gotten better with your priorities since that first reunion, laving your tongue over and between his digits rather than waste it on idle chatter. “Can go slow once I show yer mine. Been too fuckin’ long they kept us apart, little bird.”

Your fingers curl around his wrist. Must be satisfied with how wet they are, then. He presses down on your tongue one last time before pulling away.

“B-but you took care of them… we don’t need to—ah!”

He smirks as your entire body jolts. You’re already starting to warm up, but your saliva makes the slide between your delicate folds even easier. You’re just as silky as last time, clit shy at the top of your slit. He coos in your ear, gets you flushing and hot from filthy promises.

“Ye wan’ this just as much as I do,” he growls. Poor thing, he knows you like your little games and he’s being impatient. But it’s been too long and you’re playing with fire. “I ken ye do. Tell me ye do.”

You stutter in shock – if he still felt guilt, he’d feel bad for doubting you – and stumble over your words. He stills his hand to help you, bracing his arm over your head. The stretch of his body seems to distract you, mouth parted but frustratingly quiet as your round eyes roam scars and muscle.

He clicks his tongue and pinches your clit to catch your attention. You yelp, little nails sinking into his chest. He rumbles. It feels good, but he’s on a mission.

“Tell me,” he repeats when you blink up at him. “Tell me.”

“I-I just want to be able to go again,” you babble. “If I’m too sore…”

He chuckles. Is that all? “That won’ stop me, love. We’ll go plenty.”

You whine as he draws tight circles over your clit, coaxing it hard and swollen.

“I d-don’ wanna be t-too… sore! Christ!”

He huffs, caught between amusement and exasperation. Voice of reason you are, he knows you’ve got a point. Big as he is, and he knows he’ll lose any sense of restraint once he’s inside.

“I’ll make it good, bonnie,” he promises, biting kisses along your trembling jaw. “You’ll cum crying if tha’s what it takes.”

With that matter settled, he drops his head to your pretty tits. Water has beaded all over them and he jealously licks paths between each drop, flattening his tongue over your hard nipples. You moan and squeal as he sucks and nips, teasing them sensitive and achy. One of your hands tangles in his hair and tugs. Tingles race down his spine, scattering any sweet thoughts of going slow or gentle or with restraint.

You’re babbling at him but nothing could be more important than the rosettes he’s biting into your breasts. And you must agree because you’re getting so wet, leaking all over his rough palm, bucking your hips. He tilts the heel of his hand for you to grind against while he prods at your slick little hole.

You really have been good, somehow even tighter than he remembers. Of course, you were; he never doubted you. No wonder you were so insistent on prepping. He’d split you in half as you are now – fuck but that’s tempting.

“S-Soap – John. Please don’t… stop.”

“I won’ stop, birdie,” he soothes. Nothing could make him stop now.

Two is probably too much for you, but he loves the punched out little noise you make when he forces them in. The way your entrance clings and squeezes around his knuckles. How your spine goes tight and stiff, tilting your head back so that he has access to your singing throat. Pretty face all scrunched up as you struggle to adjust, stinging too much to even squirm. A flighty little bird right in the palm of his hand.

You’re so hot and wet inside. Feel fucking heavenly. Coating him in arousal, in need. His cock is aching to replace his fingers, feel you strangling him down to the base. Grinding against your thigh isn’t tiding him over anymore.

“Yer hand,” he grits out, “on my cock. Now.”

You shudder and circle the head, fingers tentative. Little tease.

He thrusts his fingers into you hard in retaliation, hips driving into the loose tunnel you’ve made. You must know what you’re doing, goading him on like this, plucking at his fraying patience.

“More,” he snarls, “or I’m going to use you like a fleshlight.” (Sooner than he was planning, anyway.)

You whimper and close your hand tighter, rubbing your thumb just under the head. Relief makes him generous, scissoring those two fingers inside you, easing you open. Lets you grind your clit on the meat of his thumb.

He crooks his fingers and finds a spot that has you mewling all sweet and precious. Does it over and over just to get your hand squeezing rhythmically around his shaft, precum dribbling over the back of your knuckles.

Christ, it’s been so long that he thinks he could blow just from this. Your voice in his ear, drooling pussy wrapped around his fingers, grinding into the open circle of your hand. But he needs to be inside you when he cums, he has to.

You don’t even seem to notice the third finger until it’s halfway inside, prying you open. Your legs buckle, knees shaking. He catches you with an arm around your waist, but it squishes you against his chest, the arm you’ve been stroking him with nearly immobilized. He can only stand the lack of stimulation for a few moments, occupying himself with his tongue down your throat.

“Enough,” he rasps, kicking the shower off.

Dazed, you blink at him in confusion, half-lidded and guileless, panting. He wants to fucking ruin you.

You yelp as he scoops you up, fingers still slippery where they grip your thigh. He croons as you cling, asking in a high, nervous voice where he’s going.

“Poor thing, dick’s not even in yet ‘n yer all addled.”

The dripping head of his cock grinds against your sopping slit as he carries you back to the bedroom. He remembers how much you liked it before – and you still do, your blunt little teeth buried in your bottom lip as you whimper.

It’s still dark, the crescent moon no use to your weak eyes. Like hell you won’t look at him when he finally claims you proper.

He slaps at the wall switch, a tiny lamp flicking to life across the room. You’re bathed in soft golden light, deep shadows swimming where it doesn’t reach. You and him, gold and black, light and dark.

He eagerly lays you out on the blanket, drinking in the marks decorating your upper body. You even have teeth prints on your arm that he doesn’t remember putting there – fetching, though.

You wiggle further up the mattress, and he follows, flashing a grin as he plants his hands on either side of you. The size difference is stark like this, the breadth of him subsuming you. Safe, tucked away, all his. Your breathing is loud as he bullies his way between your plush thighs again. You have to spread them so wide just to accommodate.

“Lemme see,” he says, voice barely leaving his chest. “Lemme see her. It’s been so long, baby.”

He can already tell you’re about to start up the fussing again – so shy, his little bird, but he’ll get you singing nice and loud now. No more of this demure chirping facade. You both know what you really are.

You squeal as he forces your thighs up, far enough apart that you babble that you don’t bend that way. Of course you do, though, you’ve just done it. Not that he really hears you by that point.

No, all his attention is on that gleaming, puffy pussy. So fucking pretty. Sticky and throbbing, your hole hardly showing the stretch of three fingers. Dripping as he watches, a dewy glob of arousal sliding down the seam of your cunt, towards your ass.

Just the slightest shift and his cock is nestled between your folds, the glans chafing against your hot clit. He measures the depth of it against your abdomen, head cloudy on the nervous whine that eeks from your throat.

Even with prep, he might break you anyway.

He hopes he does. Break you around him, shape you to him so that no one else will fit – not that anyone else will ever get the chance.

It’s not a conscious thought that gathers saliva on his tongue, purses his lips. You jump when he spits, rubbing the head of his cock through your combined fluids. Your cunt looks good in white. Like a bride.

You’re too needy, wiggling with nervous anticipation. He has to hold you down while he sinks into you – poor thing too blissed out to control yourself. One hand around your wrists above your head, the other pinning your hips at an angle to drive in as easily as possible.

One snap of his hips, and he’s buried to the hilt. You cry out, shuddering and dry sobbing. His vision goes spotty with the pleasure of it, your little pussy squeezing. You’re so…

“Fucking perfect.”

He shushes you, unable to bend to kiss you without making the stretch worse. Settles for rubbing circles into your hip, twisting to lace your fingers together. Now that he’s finally, finally where he belongs, it doesn’t seem such a monumental task to muster some patience.

“B-big,” you whimper. “You’re t-too big. I d-don’t – I can’t…!”

“You already are,” he coos, “little girl taking this fat cock, I’m so proud. My girl is so brave, my little bird. Bonnie lass.”

He’s rambling now, a dirty stream of consciousness. But that primal urge to fuck you open and loose and stupid is already clawing at him again. The tight clutch of your cunt calls for him to break you in, mark you up on the inside. Claim you as his irrevocably.

You feel him drawing back, eyes flying open wide. Writhing, half-formed protests on your tongue - that you’re not ready, that he’s too big, that it still hurts.

As if that’s any reason to stop, when anything needs to sting a bit to leave a lasting mark.

“Only way to make it hurt less,” he reminds, burying inside again. This time he rolls his hips, grinding the head of his cock along your satiny walls, against the hard barrier of your cervix.

Whatever you’re about to say is swept off in a wave of moans, washing over your wet tongue and down the back of your too-empty throat. Every time you try to gather them, he fucks back into you, hard enough to bounce you up the bed before he tugs you right back down.

Eventually you give up on doing anything but keening for him, massaging his cock from root to tip in those twitching walls. You loop your legs around his waist, ankles locked at the small of his back, knees squeezing against his ribs.

“Tha’s it, love,” he slurs, “jus’ take it.”

He lets your wrists go to clutch at both of your hips, angling them as he straightens his back. On the next thrust you scream, curse, throw your hands up to brace against the headboard. Smart girl.

His restraint unravels with each thrust until he’s pounding into you, slamming the bedframe into the wall. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your skull, jaw loose, spilling pathetic, weepy “ah, ah, ah” noises in time with his hips. He’s not going to last long at all. Not when you feel so goddamn good, finally claimed.

He presses his thumb against your clit and grins wickedly as you thrash. Tears leak from your unfocused eyes. You babble incoherently as he rubs a little rougher than he should, but your walls are sucking and clutching at every centimeter of him, so he doesn’t stop.

Even when you seize up, back bent into a sharp arch, clamping down so tight that he goes lightheaded.

“Soap! John… John it’s too much,” you sob. “John – Johnny!”

His orgasm blindsides him, makes him fuck you so hard that something in the bed cracks. In the haze, he flattens you to the mattress while bucking into you, not taking any chance of coming unseated. You whine in his ear but go limp, resigned to his cock spurting at the entrance to your womb – as deep as he can get – your cunt milking him for every drop.

He comes back to himself when you tap weakly at his hip, uncoordinated.

“Hm?” he asks, a little miffed that you’re disturbing his afterglow already.

“Hard to breathe,” you squeak.

He huffs. Alright, suppose he can understand that. Besides, he wants to see you.

And what a sight you make, splayed out and shaky on pleasure. Sweat at your hairline, lips swollen and bitten. He can still feel your pulse against his cock.

He sits himself up, eyes trailing down to the place where you’re joined. His cum is already seeping out a bit at a time, a thin creamy ring around his still half-hard cock. You keen a bit when it twitches.

“Pretty girl,” he coos.

You groan softly, flopping an arm over your glassy eyes as he pulls out – slow because he’s reluctant to leave.

But the sight of your slick diluting the milky white of his cum is too much to resist. You jolt at the first swipe of his tongue, react much faster than he’s expecting. Flip onto your front and try to scramble away. He growls at his stolen prize and pounces.

Under normal circumstances, you’re no match for him. Trembling and spent like this, you don’t stand a chance.

He grabs your calf and yanks you back, chuckling at the helpless stretch of your arms. You try to plead your case, but he’s hearing none of it. Plants his hand against your back as he shuffles onto his stomach, your thighs over his shoulders, knees digging into muscle. He tilts your hips with his other hand, thumb fitted in the crease of your pelvis, and brings you to his mouth.

Your struggling has made more spend leak out, and he laps it all up hungrily, tongue flat and ravenous. Sweeping from clit to hole to gather any stray droplets, even skimming over the tight furl of your ass. He licks into your loosened hole, high on pride at the difference he can feel his cock has made.

“’S too much,” you wail, “J-Johnny, please. I-I can’t, it’s…”

In retaliation, he slurps loudly at the fresh arousal blooming across his tongue. You hiccup, try one last time to wriggle away. He can’t have that.

You shriek as he fucks two fingers into you, voice thick with a fresh wave of tears. But you stop trying to escape. He doesn’t show mercy now that you’re behaving, coaxing more out, licking around his own knuckles. When he sucks at your overstimulated clit, you jerk and whine.

“I’m – I’m gonna… feels… w-wait, wait!”

It’s too late. He’s already laved his tongue over your trapped clit, crooked his fingers. You cum again with a shout, wetness splashing across his mouth, chin, down his neck. He groans, deep and rough in his chest. Doesn’t even give you a moment to recover before he pulls away, licking his lips.

“Do tha’ again on my cock.”

You’ve learned better now though – you lay there like a good girl as he stuffs you full again. Even better, you keep rewarding him with your soft cries of pleasure.

You really are made for him.

--

He likes the couch you picked. Not very big, but cushy. Besides, the two of you don’t need a lot of room anyway. Not when his lap makes a perfectly good seat for you.

You’ve been quiet all morning – probably still waking up from the coma he fucked you into. Eating babka from his fingers, licking them clean between bites. Docile and sweet, melting against his chest with your face tucked against his collarbone.

“Sore?” he asks.

“Mhmm.”

Your sweet little voice is all hoarse and soft. He’d coo if he didn’t think he’d be pushing his luck with skin so close to your teeth.

“Maybe I’ll massage you later,” he offers, smirking at the grumpy little “hmph” he gets in response.

He encourages you to sip a bit of water before your voice emerges again.

“What happens now?”

He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand the question.

“Now I get the life I’m owed,” he answers. All that fighting, suffering, bleeding, dying – and for what? A hole in his skull and his own goddamn people thinking he’s a monster. Even you, at first. You’ve learned, though. He’s sure of it. The rest can swallow bullets for all he cares.

“What if they come back?” you ask.

He hums. “Might contract with someone. Not opposed to killin’ on principle – just sick of doin’ it to someone else’s tune, aye?”

“Wh-what… what about…”

What about you. Poor thing, afraid Laswell and her ilk will snatch you up and dangle you in front of him again. Or worse – some other sod drooling for a slice of heaven in the pits of hell.

He doesn’t loosen his grip even when you shift a bit – needs to feel you in his hands.

“Got a plan for that, don’ you fret, little bird,” he soothes. “Still got one friend, I think. Jus’ gotta find ‘im.”

You exhale slowly, accept another piece of babka. “We’re stayin’ here, though?” you mumble around the mouthful.

He chuckles. Sweet little thing.

“Worked so hard on the place, might as well. Don’ care so long as I’ve got my bird, aye?”

“Mm.”

“How ‘bout a kitty, eh? Get ya somethin’ to keep ye company when I’m away.”

You swallow audibly. “I wan’ a dog. Big one.”

He chuckles. “’Course ye do. Aye, love, a big fuck-off dog to keep ya safe.”

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[nylacouldntmakeit]

I absolutely love your writing style and your bloggg they're so adorable 💕💕 I was requesting a sodapop fic with a fem!reader that's similar to karen smith from mean girls if that makes sense. Like they're dating and have a bunch of cute moments tgether

thank you baby 💝, and eeekkk im so doing this as hcs!!!

“which way is left?” ; sodapop x ditzy y/n

Sodapop and his dim-witted girlfriend, who make silly faces at eachother from across the room.

Sodapop, who cant agree on a time to meet up with his ditzy girlfriend because she “never learned how to read a clock.”

Darry who can’t help but raise an eyebrow at sodapop, as Soda explains a joke to you that should have been obvious.

Soda having to whisper to his not-so-bright baby that the person they’re gossiping about is within ear-shot.

Soda guiding his absent-minded love through large crowds of greasers.

Soda giving you kisses on each of your cheeks to remind you which is left & which is right.

Soda who enjoys your semi-naivety, because it feels like a “breath of fresh air” compared to the serious & tough attitudes his brothers dish out.

(now for a teensy drabble cause ily all sm!)

“Baby wait up a minute!” Soda called out jogging after you.

“Oh hi! Sorry I heard you calling my name, but I couldn’t quite tell if it was coming from this way…or that way…” you point around the both of you, your voice trailing off.

“It’s alright doll, i’m more focused on the fact that you actually remembered what time to meet me for our date!” Soda smiled proudly at you, his eyes showing true admiration.

“I love that you’re proud of me…but i didn’t remember. My mom came in and told me that it was time. I had written what time we were supposed to meet on my arm! So when I took a shower last night, I left this arm sticking out so it wouldn’t wash off.” You stuck your arm out to Soda so he could see the 3:30 written in black ink on your forearm.

“Oh! I see love…well thats ok. You’re here, n’ thats all that matters.” He offered you a smile, before throwing his arm over your shoulders.

(oh to be sodapop’s ditzy stupid little darlin’ ugh i need!)

[sanjifucker42069]

Looks Like Lingerie to Me - Sanji x Reader

Word count: 854

We gender-neutral and short af today boys. This is crack treated semi-seriously lmao, and an actual drabble. I love idiot!readers, there isn't enough rep for us dumbasses. This is written with OPLA!Sanji in mind bc I dig the super effective suave vibe

Suggestive, there's swearing, the word cock is used once. Brief description. (Ha! Brief!)

Let's be real...Sanji might wears shirt stays....and that's hot as fuck

It was midday when you found yourself outside the men's quarters. You had been lounging around on the upper deck when Usopp had asked you to grab a wrench he'd left in his room. Fair enough, you weren't doing anything, wouldn't hurt to help. And so you padded off, making your way to the bedroom. It was the middle of the day, no one should be in there. You'd passed Zoro napping against some bags, you could still hear Luffy. Sanji definitely had to be in his domain of the kitchen. Still, you offered a quick courteous knock as you flung open the door to the men's quarters, wandering into the space with no preamble.

"Sorry boys, I gotta grab Usopp's- Holy shit!"

Sanji's head shot up to stare at you, cheeks lightly pink. He was stooped over, pants pooling at his knees. Sure, his thick thighs were enticing, and his position stuck that gorgeous ass out at a delicious angle, but your eyes were fixated on the crossing fabric that adorned his upper legs. Was that…a garter belt? You felt lightheaded at the view before you. He looked delectable. The cook quirked an eyebrow at your staring.

"See something you like, love?" He drawled, sending you a cocky grin. Sanji felt his ego swell when you tripped over your words. Had you actually paid attention, you'd notice how his usual clothes were covered in flour, but you weren't exactly the most perceptive.

"I…thighs." You spoke dumbly, causing you to mentally smack yourself. "I mean, sorry. I didn't think anyone would be in here at this time." 

With great hardship, you tore your eyes away from the garment. It looked like a garter belt, had to be! You always knew Sanji liked fashion, and that he could be a pervert, but you didn't expect him to be unembarrassed at being caught wearing lingerie. As if they were possessed, your eyes trailed their way back to his thighs. The elastic was biting into his thigh meat, bulk deliciously spilling over the edges. Saliva flooded your mouth. What you wouldn't give to touch them. To bite them. Fuck what if you-

Wait. 

Sanji had said something.

"Wha?" 

Nice going idiot.

Sanji had abandoned his grip on the trousers, gracefully dropping them and stepping out of the puddle of fabric. Your breath hitched as he turned to you.

Abort mission! 

Fuck you didn't even look at his underwear. Shit, fuck, that…that was clearly the outline of his cock, a pair of grey boxer briefs doing a horrible job at hiding his silhouette. You were thankful that the length of his dress shirt covered the majority, or you'd be due a visit to chopper from fainting.

"I said can I help you, love?"

An awkward cackle escaped your throat and you blushed. Oh, he could help you alright. Instead, you opened your dumb mouth again.

"Is that…why are you wearing a garter belt?"

Sanji froze. An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

Oh shit! Oh fuck!

You opened your mouth to apologise when that bell-like laugh permeated the awkwardness. 

"What?" He laughed incredulously. "They are shirt stays."

Sanji felt his heart squeeze when you cocked your head confused. You really had no idea how cute you were, did you? Trying to be polite and stop laughing, he coughed into his fist.

"They keep my shirt tucked in sweet thing. Can't be looking unprofessional around you cuties." Sanji winked, smirking with satisfaction as your face grew redder. He expected an 'oh' or a 'sorry'. He certainly didn't expect a;

"I'd call having no pants but lingerie on unprofessional."

"You were the one who bust in here!" He argued. "And it's not lingerie!"

"Ah…sorry about that. I meant to grab a wrench Usopp left in here. I…uh…I should go."

"Mmhmm." 

You wandered stiffly to where Usopp slept, finding the tool with ease, and trying desperately to not look at the cook. Sanji watched you, amusement clear on his face at your robotic movements. Wasting no time, you rushed back to the door. 

"Oh, uh, Sanji?" The man hummed in response. "I, uh, I'm sorry for thinking you were wearing lingerie. Not! Not that there's anything wrong if you were, you'd look hot in it. I mean! I….uh…no, you'd definitely look hot in it. What was I saying?"

Silence. Sanji was staring at you with wide eyes, face now red from your comments. You clicked your fingers.

"Right, right! You should probably put some clothes on. Don't want you catching a cold ha ha." You forced out a robotic laugh. "Sorry again."

You slammed the door shut, leaving a confused and slightly aroused man in your wake. Sanji sighed, making his way back to his sleeping area to change into clean clothes. The door creaked back open. Sanji groaned quietly. Who now?

"You have to admit, they are kinda slutty though, right? Sorry! Bye again!"

You were gone before Sanji could even process your words properly. He groaned audibly this time, raking his hands down his face. He needed a fucking smoke. You were going to be the death of him.

[octavinelle-oyster]

BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK ahem I mean can I please humbly request platonic Lilia with a reader who is incredibly easy to scare with loud sounds to the point of tears. Definitely not self-indulgent

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge

Type: Platonic Drabble

Info: Reader is not specified to be Ramshackle Prefect but can be read as such, gn reader, Lilia scares reader to the point of tears, angst with an open ending

“I am. I’m so sorry.”

Lilia knew how easy it was to scare you.

He’s known since the first week of your enrollment into NRC. He's snuck up on you countless times. There was never any ill intent behind his actions.

He didn't mean to make you cry.

Catching you off guard was one thing. Something he did quite often. Appearing behind you without your knowledge and him being there jumpscaring you into placing a hand on your chest as your heart couldn't tell the difference between someone being where they weren't before and having your life be put at risk.

He really didn't mean to make you cry.

It was after clubs had ended for the day. Lilia caught sight of you turning a corner and quickly waved Kalim and Cater bye as he set after you.

When you didn't notice him walking in your shadow for a few seconds, he quickly came up on your heels and caught your shoulders with his hands. Shouting a semi-loud “Rah!” as he grinned.

He didn't know you would start crying.

When you froze up under his palms and hadn’t moved for a moment, he rounded your side to get a look at you. His face dropped when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes.

And for the first time in a long time, he panicked at the sight of tears.

Many times when the boys were young he managed to dry their eyes before they wept. Before the two trained to become knights, back when knee scrapes and forehead counter bruises were the most of their worries he could re-direct them. Nurture them away from the feeling of pain and focus on the silly noises he could make or make the piggies go to the market with a rhyme.

But you were no child he could just console by blowing raspberries.

He didn't give you the chance to get very worked up or god forbid, run away from him, before pulling you into a hug. His arm wrapping around you in a secure, but not tight grip, and his hand resting on the back of your head.

His voice was uncharacteristically quiet in the empty hallway as he began to gently sway back and forth.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Oh wow… well would you look at that! I haven't posted in- *checks my wrist that has a poorly drawn watch on it* nearly 2 months!

I think I read this request wrong but didn't realize until I actually already had it written😭 I’m sorry anon if this isn't what you had in mind the parasite took over after I opened my google doc and stared at my keyboard for 12 seconds

[cevansbrat0007]

Sweet Tooth

Summary: Ari gets inventive when he finds himself in the doghouse with you. Be sure to check out the follow-up drabble, Sweet Tooth Deluxe!

Warnings: Smut, Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Arch Nemesis', Dominant Ari, Aprons, Arguments, Oral Sex (fem rec mentioned), Spanking (mentioned), Pussy spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, Violent Thoughts, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @honeygngergemini. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari leans back in his chair, one long leg coming to rest atop his knee as he levels a hard look at Officer Milton Foster. He scrubs a tired hand over his face, his mind working overtime to process what the young man had just said.

“But that makes zero fucking sense.” He grumbles, groaning when he sees Milton just shake his head.

“Aye, man.” The dark-haired deputy  throws up his hands. “You asked me where I thought you went wrong and I told you.” He turns in his office chair to spare a quick glance at his computer. “Do not shoot the messenger.”

“No one’s being shot, alright? I just don’t get the logic behind any of the shit you just said.”

Couple that with the fact that you’d been icing him out for the past several days for reasons unbeknownst to him – which had left him in a god awful mood. He missed you. Your laugh, your warmth, your smile. 

All of it.

Not to mention that deliciously curvy body that had been keeping him warm at night. He really missed that. More than than anything he needed a fucking kiss.

But you were ignoring him. And Ari had discovered pretty quickly that he didn’t like any of it. Not one bit.

So, he’d turned to what he felt like was his only ally in this god-forsaken town: the newly minted sheriff’s deputy, Milton Foster.

“So you’re really trying to tell me that the reason my woman is pissed at me is because I ate Charline Marshall’s pecan pie at the town potluck, liked it, and asked for seconds.” Ari smooths an annoyed hand over his bearded face. Trying to understand Bell’s Creek’s local politics could really do a number on a person. 

“And don’t forget that she purposely dropped your lady’s bramble berry pie on the ground.” Milton does a quick spin in his chair. “She tried to pretend it was an accident, but most of us know better. Charline Marshall has eyes for you and I think she might be ready to make it known.”

“I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t even pick that woman out of a lineup.”  

Milton simply shrugs before taking another spin in his desk chair. “You’ve got a lot of admirers, Mr. Bounty Hunter. A man like you blows into town…well, you’re downright exotic. Every single red-blooded woman under 75 wants a taste.”

Ari visibly shudders before crossing his legs at the ankle. He didn’t want anyone else. This particularly surly Bounty Hunter wanted you. He only wanted to eat your food. Enjoy your sweets. Fall to his knees and devour the fuck out of your pretty little pussy.

“Hard pass, buddy.” Your lawman sighs. “I didn’t know shit about the pie incident. I mean, how could I when she was barely talking to me or anyone at that party?”

“Not saying it’s your fault, big guy. Logically, what would you have been able to do if she had told you?”

Ari looks up at him, his piercing blue gaze never once leaving the young deputy’s. “I would’ve taken her back to my place and spent the rest of the night making her feel better. I would’ve done everything in my power to take my girl’s mind off that petty shit.”

“Mmm.” Milton murmurs as understanding suddenly dawns. “I really don’t wanna get too deep in your business, but your lady is like a sister to me.” He leans back in his chair so that he can kick his feet up on his desk. “We used to play on the playground together as kids. And full disclosure, she used to beat my ass.” The deputy chuckles as he begins to recount all the way you used to be a tiny force of nature. 

“I…can see that.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Anyway, I think your original plan was a good one.” 

“Meaning?” Ari leans over to take a sip of his now cold coffee. It tasted like shit anyway, even when it was hot. In fact he longed for you, his BIrd, to make him one of your little caffeine-infused concoctions – preferably while wearing nothing but his shirt. 

So he could also take a bite out of that luscious ass while you refreshed his mug. After all, he was a man who prided himself on his ability to multitask. 

“Meaning, you need to find a way to distract her while making your point.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you’re a smart fuckin’ guy who set his sights on someone who could easily be the most stubborn woman in the whole damned state.” A smirking Milton offers up a salute with his can of Dr. Pepper. “That’s for you to figure out. All I can do at this point is wish you luck.” 

“Thanks.” Ari grunts, wishing that he had a better idea of what to do with you.

Oh, rest assured that he’d figure it out. You were too important to him not to. He just hoped you’d find it in your heart to take it easy on him for his mistake. 

The Next Day

You wake up to the smell of cooking sausage wafting into your room. It makes you smile as you stretch your arms over your head. Your stomach growls in agreement, subtly reminding you that you’d neglected to make dinner last night. 

Oops. You hadn’t meant to forget, it had just happened. Normally you would end your night with speaking to your Beast of a Bounty Hunter, who always made sure you ate. But lately, you have been both mad at him and embarrassed.   

Because at a recent town potluck, Ari had eaten your rival’s pecan pie. Now, you weren’t children, but this had also been after she’d purposely sabotaged your own dessert by accidentally dropping it on the ground. 

Charline pretended that it had been a mistake. But the way you’d witnessed her laugh after the fact. And then she’d fed your man, reveling in every minute. You’d known her pecan pie was dry, but Ari had seemed to enjoy it. So much so that he’d asked for a second piece. 

Which was fine, except it had hurt your feelings. And you hadn’t been sure how to relay exactly relay that fact either. So you’d clamped down. You’d bottled up. 

And as a result, your poor, sweet man was suffering. Which meant you needed to apologize. But you weren’t quite sure how to go about it. As you sit up, you vow to yourself to give him a call today. As soon as you sat down and enjoyed your breakfast.

And then it occurs to you. You weren’t the one cooking. Which meant someone was in your house. 

You spring out of bed and grab your Louisville Slugger that you always kept nearby. Taking a deep breath, you quietly make your way down the stairs, your trusty bat poised to take a swing at whatever moron who’d chosen to take up residence in your kitchen.

Baring your teeth, you crest around the corner on bare feet, ready to make your presence known. 

“You gonna hit me, Bird?” Ari muses as he adds a dash of salt, followed by pepper to whatever it is he’s got cooking in the skillet. Your flippin' skillet. “Is that really how this ends? You take me out while I’m being kind enough to whip us up some breakfast?”

Momentarily flummoxed you find yourself lowering your weapon in favor of taking in the scene before you. This man – your Bounty Hunter – was currently standing in your kitchen clad in nothing but an apron. 

Your apron. And yet somehow it fit him better

“Wh–what are you doing?” You ask him, letting your baseball bat clatter to the floor at your feet. You wouldn’t need it. You were safe with this man, but only to a point. “And how’d you get in?” You hadn’t given him a key yet. 

That was supposed to be a present for later. 

“Eh.” Ari shrugs, flipping a pancake with surprising skill. “Maybe I saw my gift and swiped it after the potluck. Maybe you weren’t listening to me and I couldn’t get a read on you, so I had to be an asshole and make an executive decision.” He turns away from you to drop a finished pancake on a plate, giving you a fantastic view of his perfectly muscled ass.

“You mad?” 

“N-no.” You respond as you feel your thighs clench. God, how you wished that you’d come down here wearing pants. “I was actually planning to reach out to you today. Can I ask what you’re doing?” You shiver as you feel your thighs grow damp, your traitorous pussy working against you. 

You should be mad that your Beast had broken into your house. Instead you were happy to see him with a much deserved apology ready to fall from your lips. 

“Making you breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and sausage.” He adds another delicious pancake to the stack. “I’m gonna feed you, and then I’m gonna fuck you, and make you rethink ever ignoring me again.” He purrs, the intoxicating rumble coming from somewhere deep in his chest. 

Fuck you were so wet it was almost embarrasing. 

“I’ve earned the rights to that tight little pussy, baby. And when I make a mistake like I did with that goddamned Charline, I want you to tell me.” Ari turns off the range, pulling the food off the heat and onto a plate.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, both hating and loving the way your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your oversized t-shirts. Actually, it was one of his. A detail he also seemed to notice. “How can I make it up to you?”

Ari studies you for a moment, his handsome face tilting to the side. And then your eyes stray to the sight of his impressive erection. You watch as one of his big hands reaches down to fist his hard cock, pumping it once. Twice. 

“You can start by going back upstairs. I want you naked, on all fours. I want to come up there and feast my eyes on your soaking wet cunt.” His heated gaze bores into your own, making your already drenched core spasm one more. “And you’d better be wet for me, otherwise I’m gonna spank it. And you.” 

“O-okay.” You find yourself taking a step back, your hand clutching at the wall. 

“I’m gonna eat it baby.” Ari growls, his voice filled with a mix of unbridled lust and determination. “I’m gonna make that pussy fucking cry. And you’re gonna fucking take it. You hear me?”

“Yes.” You whisper, resisting the urge to reach down as you stroke your eager fingers over your throbbing clit. “Yes, Sir.”

He takes a menacing step towards you, his body delighting in the way that you shiver. You’d been bad. Which means it was time to pay the price. And what better man to exact that payment than your own handsome, 6”4 Beast? 

“And then I’m gonna fuck you in front of that brand new mirror I bought you. I’m gonna show you who owns that beautiful body and remind you why it’s important to talk to me when you need me.” Another menacing step. “And then I’m gonna feed those delectable curves after I’ve had my fill.”

“And then…” He tilts his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “You’re gonna let me kiss it all better while I make love to you.”

“Y-yes, please.” Right now you were willing to give this man whatever he wanted. Whatever helped you atone for your supposed sins.

“There’s a good girl.” He intones as he unties the apron, leaving him naked and aroused in your simple kitchen. “Now run.”

END

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[xomarzz]

red velvet

1.2k words, sylus x black!fem!reader, FLUFF, established relationship, semi-drabble, very domestic, a LOT of banter, sassy sylus (tm), reader bakes sylus a cake just cause, written with black reader in mind, but really no identifying characteristics

a/n: i was reading another fic and got the idea for mc to bake a cake for sylus, because i love being delusional to domestic sylus if i love nothing else <3

the kitchen was filled with the sounds of measuring cups clinking, the hum of the oven preheating, and the soft, almost rhythmic motion of you stirring ingredients in a mixing bowl. you promised sylus a heart-shaped red velvet cake, his favorite, and now you were determined to make it perfect. but you insisted on doing it from scratch, and ‘together’, and that made things... interesting.

"are you sure you know what you’re doing?" sylus’ voice flowed into you ear as he rested his chin on your shoulder, a teasing edge to it. you glanced over at him, and the playful smirk on his face only made you roll your eyes.

"excuse me?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "i’m a pro baker. ask about me!"

he stepped back, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “right. ‘pro baker’. i’ll believe it when I taste the cake and it doesn’t end up tasting like cardboard.”

you gave him an exaggerated, dramatic gasp, pointing the batter covered spoon in his face. "how dare you question my skills in the kitchen! i’m offended."

sylus laughed, low and teasing, and nudged your shoulder. "i’m just saying, you might want to stick to cupcakes. they’re smaller. easier to mess up."

"well," you shot back, stirring the batter with extra flair, "you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you? i told you i’m a pro baker." emphasizing the pro, you hum, continuing your work

"uh-huh," he hummed, clearly unconvinced." sure you are. so, what’s next in your ‘genius’ plan? do i get to be the taste tester?”

“absolutely not,” you said, scoffing. “matter of fact, you’re banned from tasting it until the final product is ready. i can’t have you messing up my process with your hating.”

he leaned in a little, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “i think i could be a pretty helpful taste tester. i mean, i have refined tastes,” he said, tapping his chin. "and i’m definitely not above doing ‘important work’ to help out."

you playfully swatted his arm, your lips curling into a grin. "i don’t need your ‘refined tastes’ distracting me. i’m trying to make a masterpiece here."

“yeah, sure,” sylus said, laughing softly. “you just focus on that, and i’ll just be over here, admiring your... technique.”

you rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the soft smile spreading across your face. his teasing was one of the things you loved about him, and despite the playful jabs, there was always that undeniable warmth in the way he looked at you.

“alright, alright,” you said, turning back to your bowl. “you’re the official egg cracker. since you claim to be the ‘refined’ one, you’ll be handling the delicate cracking of the eggs. no pressure.

“cracking eggs is delicate now?” sylus asked with a raised brow and slight smirk, clearly amused.

“obviously.” you reply with another eye roll. “you have to crack them just right, or the cake will come out all wrong. do you want me to fail at this?”

deciding to amuse you, sylus grinned, walking over to the counter and grabbing an egg, holding it up with exaggerated importance. “no, no. i wouldn’t dream of ruining your genius cake,” he said in a voice laced with sarcasm, before cracking the egg with a dramatic flare.

you chuckled, watching him try so hard to look dramatic while cracking an egg. “i can’t believe you’re actually trying to make cracking eggs look serious and cool.”

“well, someone has to bring the style to the kitchen,” he said, giving you a cheeky wink. “you’re welcome.”

“oh, please,” you laughed, lightly nudging him with your elbow. “let me know when you crack an egg with real finesse.”

sylus dropped the cracked egg into the bowl with a look of exaggerated satisfaction. “i think i just did.”

you sighed dramatically, trying to keep your focus as you measured out the flour. “whatever you say. i’ll just be over here doing the hard work.”

“you’re sooo humble,” he said with a grin, sidling up beside you to peer at the bowl. “how does it look so far? do you need any more expert opinions?”

you shot him a glance, not missing the mischief in his eyes. “do you want to help or just critique?”

“well, i’m definitely more of a supervisor than a worker right now,” he said, leaning in to sneak a taste of the batter with his finger.

you swatted his hand away before he could do any more damage. “aht. that’s for the finished product. get out of here with your bad habits, contaminating my cake!”

sylus just laughed, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “alright, alright, i’ll behave. for now.”

with the cake now in the oven, the two of you leaned against the counter, arms brushing as you shared a quiet moment. sylus was still smiling, but now there was a softness to his expression, a warmth in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat.

"for real though," you said, catching his eye, "i’m really glad you’re here."

sylus raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "oh really what about me being here makes this cake-baking thing so special?"

you leaned in slightly, your voice softening as you looked up at him. "honestly? it just feels different with you. in a good way! i can’t really explain it... but it just feels right when you're here."

though trying to hide it, sylus gave you a genuine smile from the slight curve of his lips, the expression managing to make your heart skip. "glad i’m your kitchen partner in crime, then."

the oven timer went off, and the sweet scent of the red velvet cake filled the room. you immediately jumped up, full of energy and excitement. "it’s cake time!” sylus couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head following behind, as you grabbed the oven mitts. “time for the true test.”

"well someone’s suddenly very interested in the cake."

"i’m telling you, i’m a great taste tester," he said with a smirk.

the two of you shared a quiet moment as you pulled the cake out of the oven. the frosting could wait, but for now, everything felt right. sylus stood beside you, his presence enough to make the moment feel complete.

once the cake was cooled and the buttercream frosting had been perfectly spread, you handed sylus a fork. he took it, studying the cake with a raised brow, faking skepticism. as soon as he took a bite, his eyes widened slightly in surprise, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. "well," he said, taking another forkful. "this... is actually really good." you couldn't help but smile at the praise. "i told you," you teased, nodding your head, then nudging him lightly. "pro baker never fails." sylus smirked, setting the fork down with a small chuckle. "fine, you win. i might just be a little impressed.”

once he finished the last bite, sylus leaned back, his gaze lingering on you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. his eyes softened, then, without a word, he reached forward, cupping your face gently in his hand, and before you could react, he pressed his lips to yours in a soft, lingering kiss. it was slow, almost as if he was savoring the moment, and when he pulled away, his eyes were full of something unspoken. "you always surprise me," he murmured, voice low and sincere.

~gg♡

[gothghostiie]

mmm older!boyfriend/husband price and cock/ball worship me thinks…

would love a little drabble, throw some musk kink in there if you don’t mind

-your favorite price obsessed musk kink anon (missed you ghostie<3)

aaa u get me pookie!! (missed u too<3) also I read that as cock and ball torture first and I'm sad but also so excited

cw: older bf!price/implied age gap, cock n ball worship, musk kink, tiny bit of manhandling, hair pulling, gn!reader

thinking about you being horny and trying to get it on with him after a long day at work - but he just can't throw the heat tonight. despite always wanting to get his hands all over you he tells you not today, he doesn't wanna half ass fucking you, thats simply not his style. but you keep pawing at him, trying to feel him up and get into his pants, relentless in your tries. he tolerates it and even humours you a little - until he's had enough. suddenly a calloused hand grabs the back of your neck and pulls you close to him, faces just inches apart. "never listen to me, do you love?" his voice is rough and low, a bit condescending. he shakes his head as you just glance up at him, wide eyed and suddenly all shy. "wanted my cock so bad, don't you?" he croons. "fine. you'll get it."

before you even realise it youre pushed between his strong thighs, finding yourself kneeling on the ground. he lets go of your neck briefly to open his belt, you eye his hands; he grabs your attention with a quick whistle. "eyes up here." he orders and you comply, making eye contact as he frees his semi from behind his underwear, pulling down his jeans just enough for you to have access to his heavy balls too. he grabs your hair and leans down, to make sure you're being good and listening to him, even with the distraction at hand.

"you listen to me now, yea? you've been begging for my cock for the past hour, nows your chance. this is all you'll get little one, so you better make sure to do it well, yea?" all you can do is nod as his low tone makes you all fuzzy, you'd do anything this man tells you as long as he's murmuring it like that. he leans back in the couch, in the same movement pushing your face to his cock, your senses immediately overloaded with his smell. even though he showered after work, he never quite gets rid of it - and god you'd grieve the day he manges to. immediately you press your face in there, right where his cock and balls meet, taking a deep breath - he chuckles softly, you're not as slick about it as you'd like - before finally starting to kiss and lick at him. he leans his head back, the grip on your hair loosening and turning into rubbing your head gently as you work your lips all over him. he can tell you're getting into it, how greedy you are, how much you wish you could be able to bounce on him right then and there; but you know better than to talk back to him. he groans in relaxation as he feels your slightly swollen lips wrap around his balls, sucking softly while your hand works his cock, squeezing the tip slightly.

"good job.. just like that, y'know how it's done." he praises gently, breathing getting heavier as you practically worship his cock with how eager you are. the way you look at it alone could make him cum in a heartbeat, you have that little look of fascination and desperation written all over your pretty face - makes him wanna cum all over it. and he just might with how well you're doing, you know what he likes, his favourite techniques and most sensitive spots by now. you press the side of your face against his abdomen, curly pubes tickling your skin while you lick and suckle the base, one hand working his cock relentlessly while the other is cupping his balls. you can smell the day on him, almost making you want to press your face into him more - but he's a step ahead of you. hand suddenly snakes around your head to cup the side of your jaw roughly, pressing your face into his soft flesh further.

"jus' like that.. jesus christ darlin', you're gonna drive me fuckin' insane.." he mutters and you can tell he's getting close. you look up at him with those big doe eyes he loves seeing and he's a goner, done for. grunts loudly, the grip on your jaw tightens, making your skin turn white; just mere seconds later he cums all over his ridden up shirt and even your face. He's breathing heavily as you slow your movements down and instead go to lick his cock nice and clean, his cum still on the side of your face. he gazes down at you through lidded eyes, shaking his head.

"gonna be the death of me, love.."

[midnight-mourning]

300 Followers Special!

AGH IT HAPPENED AGAIN

was legit just checking through my blog and realized but at least i caught it in time!!

Thank you all so much! For this and for all the support everyone gives on the silly things I make. I know the last like, several months of this blog have been chaos (from posting often to nothing while I was sick to semi-daily in December etc. etc.) so I appreciate everyone sticking with me through it all very much <333

I'll admit there's.... a LOT going on right now (looks at my wips and at my research to-do list) BUT, i don't mind adding something to the list! It just might take a bit of time to get to it lol

Pulling from the 100 follower milestone celebration ideas that didn't get picked, as well as a few other things I came up with, will do the top two if results are close :D

BUT feel free to pick the 'other' option if you have soemthing else you'd like to see! I will do whatever since this is me saying thanks ^^

Little bit of info on each thing below the cut, excited to see what you pick!

Q&A/Ask the Cast: a classic, I know my ask box is open but here's also a clear chance to ask something that you've been really curious about! I won't share spoilers for the story, but everything else is on the table, including stuff about me, writing etc. Just no super personal questions is all! Additionally, you can ask the cast questions and answers will be in character, perhaps with a little doodle as well ^-^

Writing Requests: same as all the other request things I've done, same rules apply (no nsfw, suggestive is fine, be specific if you want specific) and will be about 500-1000 words each

Doodle requests: I provide you with a little drawing I made with tender love and care (would be lined, colored, shaded, etc.)

A peek into the drafts: I do in fact have a couple other fic ideas floating around in my brain that I simply haven't started so that I don't get bogged down/focus on CS. I would share those and a little bit of concept art

AU Oneshot/Continuation: I take a oneshot I've written and add MORE to it in some way, anything that I've written is up for grabs (besides my multi-chap stories ofc) This includes my Promptober responses, DCA December, 'Secret' gifts I've done, and any other drabbles or such. Examples of times I've already done this would include Holiday Spirit (continuation of DCA December Day 7), and Restart (continuation of Promptober Day 29)

DIY the DCA: silly idea I've thought about where using my knowledge as an MechE I determine the costs of materials, equipment, etc. for what it would take to build the daycare attendant yourself, would it be completely accurate? probably not I am not an expert, would it be fun? yeah I fuckin love deep-diving on mcmastercarr for shit

Chekov's Gun Analysis Post: i explain and go line by line about ch. 15 of Confused Spirit and explain all the little callbacks, hints, etc., why i love it so much, and so on

Other: explained above, don't be shy to tell me if none of these sound interesting! Won't hurt my feelings :)

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Before - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day Twenty-Four of Pedrotober: Sundance Pedrotober Hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Rating: E for Every time I think about Marcus Acacius I want to fling myself into the sun because of his big hands and massive shoulders but instead of doing that I wrote this. Oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v, Marcus the choking king is back, (kind of) semi-public sex.

Word Count: 1776

a/n: Just wait till you see how I incorporated the prompt into this one. Blink and you miss it. This is for my Marcus sister wife. Ask and you shall receive. This is firmly set in the same universe as "Fate" but you do not necessarily need to read that to understand this.

"Marcus," you giggle as he backs you against the wall, peppering your face with kiss after kiss. He's been at it for what feels like hours, large hands grabbing at your waist, twirling you around, touching every part of you he can reach as he guides you through the arena. It's already well into the night, late enough that he has no qualms about lurking in the shadows, making a place so riddled with death feel so full of life.

The moon is shining brightly overhead, illuminating his curls and the way they stand on end when you rake your fingers through them as he buries his face in your neck. You feel lighter than you ever have before, the burdens cascading from your shoulders whenever you're fortunate enough to find yourself in his arms.

And, you ponder, if this is what your grandmother meant when she spoke of love.

You push lightly at his shoulders when he bites down on your skin, marking you for the whole world to see. "Marcus, stop." It's a plea, but it isn't a serious one, and you can feel the way he's smiling against you. He halts his movement regardless, pulling back to gaze down at you with stars in his eyes.

He says nothing, his mouth falling open and then shut as he tries to form the words you long to hear. But you understand why they don't fall, the intensity of the magnetism that keeps you in his orbit rendering you speechless more than once, too. Everything had happened by chance, a rare feeling for someone whose entire life had felt so incredibly set on a singular, pre-written path. One riddled with death and despair suddenly shifting to an existence blessed with light and love. It had been his horse that brought you together, skittish when confined by the walls of the bustling city but calmed by your patient hand, his rider captivated from the moment you appeared in his world.

The days since have been filled with stolen moments, although it does little to diminish the whisper of rumors that float through the streets. The gossip that the soon-to-be general has his eyes set on a commoner. You must admit, it is difficult to conceal the blossoming relationship you and Marcus share, but you do your best to shelter it from the public eye, all too aware of the fate that might await you should something be confirmed.

Marcus does his best to convince you otherwise, assuring you now with murmurs against the shell of your ear that you would be protected. That he would marry you tonight if you would let him. The thought is tempting, the appeal of lounging in his bed for the remainder of your days, of washing the evidence of battle from his skin in song, languid strokes. It's an easy image in your mind, the life you would lead at his side, but it is also one that is constantly tainted by the darkness that follows wherever you go.

For your grandmother had also spoken of loss.

He paves a trail down your body, lips setting you ablaze as he parts your tunic and exposes your dripping center to the cool night air. "I will take care of you," Marcus vows as he guides the rough pads of his fingers through your folds, and you know instantly that he only speaks the truth. He slips a long finger past your entrance, easing you open with careful movements, and his name flows freely from your lips when he adds a second, your back arching against the hard brick. The delicate skin of your shoulders burns as it grazes over the coarse surface, but you would rather bleed than have him stop the practiced motions between your thighs.

You try to ground yourself, tugging on his hair when he parts your legs further and directs you to drape one over his broad shoulder. It opens you to his waiting tongue, eagerly latching onto your clit as sparks fire behind your closed eyes. In the bathhouses, you'd overheard the complaints of other women, their needs unmet during emotionless encounters, but you struggle to relate. With Marcus, you only know pleasure, and under a moonlit sky, he guides you toward the heavens.

A hand covers your mouth at the same moment you feel the scream rise in the back of your throat, and it shifts down to close around your neck in a silent command to remain quiet. The arena may be devoid of roaring crowds in the dead of night, but it is not without its dangers, and yet Marcus continues his ministrations. You reach your peak, shuttering in his arms and melting into his kiss, your taste lingering on his tongue once he's crawled back up your body.

There's a distant sound, one that causes him to crowd you further against the wall, enclosing you both in the shadows completely. The evidence of his desire presses firmly against your stomach, and when combined with the aftershocks of the climax still flowing through you, it only heightens your need for him.

"Marcus," you whisper breathlessly, grasping at his neck to draw him closer, encouraging him to continue.

He kisses you firmly, silencing you with a promise of all that is yet to come. "Not here," he returns, waiting for the din of footsteps to fade. When the silence settles around you, he pauses to reach above your head, delicately grasping a small bud that has found a home between the cracks. With a cautious hand, he plucks the rose and tucks it behind your ear, lust fading when his touch ignites another emotion entirely. One that you are more certain of with each passing second.

The dim streets feel hollow as you pass through them, your hand tucked safely in his. The faint blossom of the sun is already beginning to paint the sky, tainting the darkness with brilliant hues of pink and purple. Marcus rarely rushes when it comes to you, but his pace is steady as he leads you to his quarters. The humble abode is a far cry from the chambers he will receive upon his promotion, but is even further from the dingy room you call home. The elaborate furnishings are a stark reminder of the distance that separates you - the wealth, the status, the commission - everything that should keep you apart that means nothing when you're together.

You stand facing the bed as he locks the door, heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. The heat radiating from his skin is apparent when he steps behind you, tracing along your shoulders until the straps of your tunic slide down your arms, leaving you bare. Hands circle your body, charting a path that leaves air caught in your lungs. One stems lower, back toward your wanting center, the other higher, reaching for your breast and binding it in his firm grasp.

It's startling how quickly he works you up, the mess at the apex of your thighs a testimony to the way he knows your body better than perhaps you know yourself. Mere moments pass before your knees begin to give way, a strong arm clutching you against him until he can tenderly lower you to his bed. He towers over you as you watch him undress, removing the ornate garments from his frame piece by piece until he, too, stands naked before you.

Something echoes in the back of your mind, the complaints of women far more experienced than you. You cannot refrain from running your tongue along your swollen lips at the sight of him, far more impressive than anything the gossips could dream of. When he closes in on you, molding your body into the plush pillows at your back, seething his length into your waiting heat, you allow yourself to smile for just a moment because you get to experience this. You get to feel him. No one else.

Marcus grunts softly as he begins to rock into you, sliding out almost completely before thrusting home, his hips flush with yours. It's entirely too much when he hesitates, stilling as something unspoken passes between you again. The sun appears on the horizon, flooding his chambers with dull light as passion races to the front of your mind, spiraling out of control until you can feel the words on the tip of your tongue. You itch to grasp something, hands running along the sheets that surround you until he's lacing his fingers with yours, pinning your hands above your head and lowering to kiss your forehead.

"I love you," he breathes, lips brushing your skin at the same time that everything erupts. Warmth spills over your body as the morning light highlights the deep color of his eyes, and you know that for all the pain you have experienced in your life, you would live it all again if only to return to this moment. He doesn't wait for you to return the sentiment, immediately setting a persistent pace that has you digging your nails into his hand.

A thread coils in your stomach, tightening when he changes the angle so he covers you completely. You're surrounded, enveloped by him physically and emotionally, and the second he releases your hands, you're holding him against you, whispering your affirmations in his ear.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

The words don't feel adequate, the same way the time you manage to claim never feels long enough, and the way the distance between you always appears too far. You repeat them anyway, soaring higher until you feel his seed fill you, Marcus sighing in a final plea for you to follow him over the edge.

"Release."

You clench around him, pleading with the universe to surrender as you do. To allow you this. To let you remain in his arms despite the barriers that threaten to keep you apart. To grant you a lifetime of his love regardless of the trials that await you beyond the walls of these quarters.

You're aware, however, that it's a futile effort. The fates determined your futures long ago, and you cannot dispute their intent. Not even as the sun dances across the waves outside his window, threatening to dispel the darkness that lingers at the edge of your vision. Soon, he will go somewhere you cannot follow, and it causes you to hold him tighter. To wonder if when death comes, it will be gracious enough to take you both.

Because, as your grandmother once said, if you must die, may you die with the one you love.

Read the entire "Fate" Trilogy | Fate | Before | After

[guardian-of-time-if]

(Before I start, I just want to apologize for making this so long. I got a little carries away...)

Sooo, I was scrolling through some of the old asks and saw the one about differing lifespans and read the little drabble about Lukyan and MC and how Lukyan fears for the future of his kingdom and I just... I had to shed a few tears. Doesn't help that I listened to Epic: The Musical's "Would You Fall in Love With Me Again" right after (not exactly the same situation, the song and that drabble, but still...)

After that, a bittersweet thought occurred to me that I NEED to rant about (plus a few questions at the very end, if you don't mind me askin). Imagine an MC who, whilst Lukyan was still alive, was known for her warm, gentle, and dazzling personality. Who always wore dresses with pretty colors: whites, pinks, yellows, blues etc. Who was always smiling and laughing and merry. Even more so when in the presence of her husband, Lukyan, who she had the most affectionate of gazes for.

But then Lukyan dies. And when he does, it's as though all the light has been snuffed out of her. Her demeanor becomes subdued and dim, her colorful dresses are traded in for dark gowns and black veils. Her smiles, while still gentle and kind, are far more subdued and rare. She mourns her lost love for the rest of her days, never taking on another lover or spouse. Yet she does not wallow in her grief.

Instead, she dedicates her life to guiding her descendants into ruling as wisely and justly as Lukyan had, whilst not overstepping. Leading the empire to becoming the most prosperous nation for all the years that she lives, and all the more after.

She also dedicates her life to helping the unfortunate and those in need. From physically participating in food handouts, visiting orphanages to personally inspect the safety of the place and spend time with the children, and going to the poorer more rundown areas in disguise to see what the people have to say and to try and help people get their business ideas in those areas off the ground, so it becomes safer and better off. Basically, she does all she can to make use of her long lifespan to help and serve others.

She visits Lukyan's grave religiously, and every time she comes to the palace, she makes time to admire his portrait. Just... auugghhh, the pain and angst of a genuinely true love MC/Lukyan relationship! Where MC is doomed to love him eternally while her life goes on CENTURIES after he's past.

Soo, all this to ask:

Imagine, after all of this, MC passes of natural causes. She reunites with Lukyan in the afterlife (assuming it exists in this universe... and if it doesn't, can we PLEASE pretend it does Q-Q). Assuming he's been watching over her this whole time, how does he greet her? Does he have anything to say about her efforts to preserve all the good he did as the ruler?

What are the chances there are ballads written about the love between Lukyan and MC, and MC's complete dedication to him and his kingdom even long after he left this world?

And a semi-unrelated question:

How would Konstantin, his wives, and Igor react to knowing the little girl they found in the forest would be the reason their nation remained great and prosperous long after they've passed? Not because of an interest in politics or royalty, but because of her undying love for Lukyan and knowing how much the fate of his nation weighed on him in his last days.

Hi there! Don't worry about the length, I love long asks, and this one really touched me with how well thought out it was. "Would you fall in love with me again" is a beautiful song, and I can see why it made you think about this scenario.

I've been thinking about this ask for a while. I just had so many feelings reading your ask. I'll admit this scenario had not occurred to me, but it is very beautiful. Also your ask made me go listen to the Ithaca Saga again. I love the image of an MC who outlives Lukyan religiously visiting his grave and admiring his portrait. I also love the idea of MC continuously looking after their descendants and taking care of his kingdom for him. 

Before I answer your question, here’s some basic information about the afterlife. So, each religion in Tarken has a different teaching about what the afterlife looks like. Most people just assume whatever version their religion teaches is the correct one though some scholars speculate that they are all different interpretations of the same truth. 

In my omniscient author knowledge I can tell you that there are different versions of the afterlife that people can go to. For the purpose of your ask, I’m going to assume that MC and Lukyan end up in the same afterlife. (If you or anyone else would like more information about this, I’m happy to expand, I just don’t want this task to get any bigger than it already is.) The rest of it is under the cut because my answers were a bit long.

Assuming he's been watching over her this whole time, how does he greet her? Does he have anything to say about her efforts to preserve all the good he did as the ruler?

Because you successfully hit me in the feels with this one, have a snippet of this afterlife reunion (sorry if this is accurate to how you imagine your MC, I tried to keep the details consistent with your ask.):

I follow the god through the paths in the fog. I’m still processing my death, but I also find myself at more peace than I’ve been in a long time. The weight of grief has been lifted from my shoulders, and glancing at my body, I see a colorful dress of the type I used to wear when my husband was still alive.

“Normally, the first thing I do for a new resident is help them decide a place to live, but there is someone here who has been dying to see you, so I think I’ll let you talk to him first.”

“What?” I ask the god as his words sink in. “Who?”

A translucent blue hand rests on my shoulder while another points at a figure moving towards us, not quite running, but close. As the figure gets I find myself staring at the same face I spent countless hours staring at in painting form. But this isn’t a painting.

It’s Lukyan, and he looks as young as he did the day we married, but without the scars. 

Before I can fully process the sight of my husband, I feel his arms wrap around me in the best hug I’ve ever received. It’s warmer, more comforting, reassuring, and tight enough we can hear each other's heartbeats. My arms move of their own accord to hug him back. 

“You made it,” he says, wiping a tear off my cheek. I hadn’t realized I was crying. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I know. I saw your visits to my grave, the hours you spent in the portrait hall of the palace, and the countless hours you spend taking care of our country in ways I never imagined doing myself.”

“You’ve been watching me?” I ask, still just soaking in the sight of my husband, looking more alive than ever. 

“Everyday. You’re amazing you know? All those things you did, everyday.”

“You were so afraid of what would happen to your people after you died, I wanted to make sure someone who saw your vision for what Nytheris would be was taking care of them.”

His arms wrap around me again. “Thank you.”

“Well, thank you for keeping watch over me the whole time.”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do,” He tells me, cupping my cheek. “And it’s nice to see you wearing color again.”

What are the chances there are ballads written about the love between Lukyan and MC, and MC's complete dedication to him and his kingdom even long after he left this world?

There is a very high likelihood of people writing love ballads about Lukyan and MC, I could even see them becoming the plot of an opera or a ballet. 

How would Konstantin, his wives, and Igor react to knowing the little girl they found in the forest would be the reason their nation remained great and prosperous long after they've passed?

This is an interesting question. I try not to say too much about Emperor Konstantin’s thoughts because I want readers to form their own opinion of him, but I don’t think it would be too surprising to say he would have mixed feelings. He would approve of keeping the empire prosperous, and he’d appreciate her loyalty to his son, but he and Lukyan disagree on a lot of policy, so he’d be a bit iffy on that depending on how closely MC stuck to upholding Lukyan’s policies. 

Empress Tereza would be very reassured that MC loves Lukyan that much. Her biggest fear is her children would end up in marriages like her own, so knowing MC is so in love with her son it defines her behavior years after his death would make her a lot more supportive of their marriage. Tereza would also be incredibly grateful to MC for continuing to take care of the empire on her son’s behalf. The fourth wife, you guys haven’t met yet, would have similar feelings to Tereza. She likes Lukyan a lot, and would care more about him being happy than the fate of the country. Claudia would find it sweet, but she’d also find it sad. Vanessa would find MC somewhat foolish for continuing to put so much effort into something because it mattered to a dead man. 

Lord Igor would be reassured that MC manages to find love with Lukyan as he does genuinely want MC to be happy. As for the rest, he would be torn. He’d rather MC put that much effort into improving the MC because she was interested in politics not for someone else, but he would also be grateful for all her efforts ensuring the empire remained prosperous. 

[swordgrace]

*ೃ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒.

please review the requesting guidelines before sending in a request or ask. this post touches on themes, etiquette, and tries to answer any questions regarding the requesting process.

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍.

⠀ཾ༵ masterlist. | request guidelines. | rules. | portrayals.

This blog is heavily nsfw-themed and all content is presumed 18+. Most of my works include smut, however, I am willing to write only angst/fluff if the request is intriguing enough.

I strongly prefer smut-related requests. I am willing to write smut with the inclusion of other themes (angst, fluff) as well. The nastier the request, the better.

I only write character x reader requests. I do not write oc/character, canon/canon, etc. This account is strictly x reader. Please do not request anything other than character x reader fics.

I will not write a fic where reader has a name, appearance description, etc. I try my hardest to use all-inclusive language so that anyone can read my fics + enjoy them!

Requests sent in while my requests are closed will be deleted. Requests asking for more parts of an existing fic will be deleted. I can tell when you haven’t read the rules.

No male reader or gender neutral requests. As of now, I only accept female reader requests.

My character interpretations and personal headcanons will differ from that of another writer. Please be respectful of this, as no one writes a character in the same way as someone else.

Please be specific about your request — include as many details as you’d like. Please specify if it is a one-shot (4K+ words) or a drabble (under 4K words). Requests with vague details will be written with creative liberties in mind.

I only write one-shots (4K+ words) or drabbles (less than 4K words). I no longer write headcanon lists. Please keep this in-mind when requesting.

You are welcome to send as many requests as you want. However, it might take me awhile to complete them. I work on an “inspiration first” basis. Requests that intrigue me the most are typically the first to be written.

I do not work on a timeline for requests or for updates. Please be kind & patient — I promise that I will get to it as soon as I can!

Please review my portrayals / character portrayal list to see what fandoms & characters I write for. If a character is not listed, it means that I do not write for them.

Please be kind & respectful when requesting! If a request contains things that I don’t write for, is rude/demanding, or simply something that I’m uncomfortable with, it will be deleted.

Please ensure that you are thoroughly reading both the requesting guidelines, blog rules, & the character list. If you have any questions or need elaboration, please don’t hesitate to send me a message!

Lastly, the list below is NOT definitive. If something isn’t listed (as long as it isn’t on my WILL NOT WRITE), I am more than willing to try writing it or play around with the idea!

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 & 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 ;

WILL WRITE; non-smut stories, one-shots, drabbles, smut, smut and fluff, gore & violence, darker subject matters, porn with plot, porn without plot, female reader, afab reader, dubious consent, somnophilia, size differences, breeding kink, pet names, experienced reader, inexperienced reader, dom/sub dynamics, predator/prey, capture/captive, bondage, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, monsterfucking, legal age gaps, bloodplay, knifeplay, threesomes, poly!relationships, voyeurism, vanilla smut, bloodplay, waxplay, inappropriate use of magic, rough sex, loss of virginity, choking, biting, dry humping, foreplay, grinding, thigh riding, edging, overstimulation, different positions, breast play, dirty talk, spit kink, semi-public / public sex, outdoor sex, anal sex, risk of getting caught, aftercare, etc . . .

WILL NOT WRITE; non-con/r*pe, necrophilia, male reader, headcanon lists, incest, age play, little play, daddy/mommy kinks, watersports, scat, gore, sexual abuse, su*cide, self-harm, domestic abuse, racism, homophobia, degradation, any harmful kinks/fetishes.

╱╱ updated 06.22.25.

[partially-controlled-chaos]

I mentioned a Halsin X My Tav drabble I wrote during a power outage (I’ll post it at some point I just have to get it typed because I had to write it by hand), and it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written for my own Tav.

I love doing reader fics but I realized I’ve also missed my little red haired Tav a good bit.

Anyway, I have a few little drabbles here and there in mind that I might write up and sprinkle throughout my (semi but not really) regular postings because I’ve recently revamped her backstory and it’s one of my favorites that I’ve done for an OC. Maybe drop some lore if I can get it written into words and not just pictures in my brain.