oppygooddoies

[oppygooddoies]

Shadowed Past

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caleb

[oppygooddoies]

Fates Entwined

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this is soooOOO AAAA. NO IM NOT DONE

OUR BOUDOIR

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ pairing: sylus x reader

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ count. 1.9k

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ content: porn no plot, (home) office sex, cunnilingus, minor overstimulation(?), pnv, no protection, kitten count: 2

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ a/n: hiii, im changing my layout again hehe. Thank you all for your requests but I’ve been so unimpressed with my writing lately, I haven’t been able to finish anything :(( is this writers block? ughhh nothing seems good enough to post yet, but in the meantime enjoy this fun little short

The city beyond the glass glows softly, spilling light past the window sill. It blends with the warm tones of his office, softening the shadows that stretch across the room. From the corner, a record player is trembling its arm above a vinyl. Low, mellow jazz hums through the room. The stack of notes on his desk waits to be examined, lying beside a mug of coffee. The ceramic cools his fingertips as he lifts it to his lips, indifferent to how long it’s been sitting there.

His music echoes from within, curling around the edges of the door just as it begins to creak open with a hesitant whisper. He makes no immediate acknowledgment of the sound, eyes flicking subtly across the pages he holds as though you aren’t there. Though you suspect he’s well aware of your presence.

Carefully, you slip your foot through the narrow gap, your leg emerging like a risqué performer on stage, teasing the audience provocatively. A playful giggle escapes you, creeping past the doorframe and into the room, reeling his gaze upward.

You’ve turned his wardrobe into a theater,  donning outfits like a lavish starlet. After the eternity spent rifling through and coordinating your favorite pieces-- each more ridiculous than the last-- you then parade around in them for your audience. His shirts hang on you like makeshift mini dresses. Suit jackets and coats engulf your frame. Watches and rings adorn your wrists and fingers, transformed into jewels worthy of your taste.

“Do you enjoy playing in my closet, kitten?” he purrs, his low voice thick with amusement. A chuckle slips from him, trailing after a sigh as your leg lifts theatrically at the entrance to his office. “Come in, let me see it.”

Your body slides through the doorway, slowly revealing the final ensemble: a dark, matte button-up. Its scarlet slashes streak across the torso and sleeves like claw marks. The shirt, once tailored to his broader frame, now drapes over yours. Buttons are left undone just enough to reveal the lack of clothing underneath. The door clicks shut behind you as you step forward, the low thud echoing in the dim room. His eyes follow the gentle sway of the hem brushing your thighs, the way the fabric moves with you, unveiling the shape beneath. A sharp click of his tongue cuts through the air.

“A bit dull compared to your earlier choices. Do I not have enough to choose from, or are you simply getting lazy?” His tone is mockingly critical. He may call your antics frivolous, but the warmth that lingers in his eyes saves him from being taken seriously.

“Not at all,” you reply, stepping forward to wedge yourself between him and the edge of his desk. His hands pause mid-turn of a page before he casually discards the packet of documents to the side. His gaze takes a slow journey upward-- skimming your legs, your hips, the fabric slipping and defining your waist.

“Is this your final piece?” he asks, voice quieter now.

“It’s a gift,” you say.

His brow flicks upward, “A party favor?”

You lean back, resting your foot beside his hips, boxing him in just enough to show your intentions. You let your gaze drop to his lips, then slowly drag it back up to meet his eyes. The scent of his cologne lingers in the collar you now wear. Warm, familiar, and mingling with the natural scent of him-- it’s intoxicating and your biggest influence in the moment. His grin widens as your darkening gaze settles on him. You gently knock him with your heel, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

He hums, head tilted as though considering, “Are you making it easy tonight?”

You let a slow grin tug at your lips, lifting your leg until your heel rests against his knee. You sit atop his desk, disregarding the papers rustling underneath your weight. There’s a sharpness in his gaze as he observes you, waiting for your answer. 

“Of course not.” You tease.

He laughs, a warm rumble that stirs in his chest. He doesn’t believe you and you don’t blame him. Since when has stripping you bare been a challenge for him? His fingers skim lightly along the curve of your ankle, dancing up the length of your leg with unspoken intent. His eyes, dark and steady, never leave yours. The shirt shifts beneath his touch, warmth gathering in the space between you.

“Go ahead.” You speak.

“Hm?” He quirks an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

“Unbutton me.”

He hums, intrigued but disappointed by your lenience. “You can be bolder than that.”

“What else do you want me to say?” You scoff.

“Am I supposed to help you make this hard for me?”

You pause, eyes narrowing at his rebuttal. A tinge of warmth nips your cheeks, once again embarrassed by your eagerness to be touched. A desire you know you can’t hide but had hoped to mask with indifference. His name leaves your lips with an edge that erases his grin. You hold onto his attentive gaze, lifting your hand and undoing the buttons of his shirt with deliberate slowness. 

“You know what I like.”

As if the display was instructional, a lesson solely for him, he watches silently. With every button undone, the fabric parts a little more, unveiling the figure underneath. Your fingers stop at the curve of your breast as your legs part.

“So do it.”

Your words widen the grin spreading across his face. As instructed, his chair drifts forward as he leans in. Callous fingers lightly trail up the curve of your calf, cupping the underside. He lifts your leg to his lips, pressing a kiss just below your knee. His lips hover over your skin, dragging upward and nipping the smooth inner side of your thigh. You jerk your leg out of his grasp. 

“No biting,” you command.

He looks over you silently, deepening his kisses as a quiet apology. His lips press against your skin, warmth building the longer he lingers as if he’s restraining the urge to devour you. His free hand slips up to press down on your sternum, lowering you down on your back. The warmth of his tongue blooms from between his lips, glossing up your thigh until his breath is inches away from the heat building between your legs. 

He looks over your mound, guiding your legs past his shoulders. The heat of his closeness unravels your composure. Your desperation slips from you, a command that sounds almost like a plea. As instructed, he burrows his face in between your legs, drawing long stripes up your slit. His tongue dips between your folds, savoring the essence of your arousal. Your flushed skin meets the cold kiss of the desk, your body taut as the heat of his tongue stirs the tension in your stomach. The jazz looping in the corner does little to drown out your sighs, moaning breathlessly as he devours you.

His hand glides up from your hips to your chest, gifting you a breast a brief squeeze before wandering down to his lap. His fingers feather over the lump twitching in his pants. He can’t ignore the lewd noises his mouth is producing, accompanied by your whimpering, your taste, the softness of your skin-- he’s going mad. He huffs, choking on a moan as he presses his palm down on his clothes erection. He teases himself through the linen while helping you reach your release, flattening his tongue against your bud and lapping up your cunt. The hum of his moans inches you off the edge until something within you snaps. 

His hand abandons his lap and returns to your hips as you quiver around him. His cock aches in his lap as he watches your release, begging for attention. He’s smothered by your thighs as you writhe under his hold, body aching for distance. Unmoved by your efforts, he maintains his grip on your hips, pinning you against the desk as he continues suckling the softness of your cunt. The friction of his tongue strums your nerves with every flit along your sensitive bud.

You grab the roots of his hair, detaching him with a slick pop and raising his head up. A soft grunt escapes him from the sudden tug, lips glistening as he’s held up by trembling hands. His crimson eyes are shadowed beneath the disheveled silver strands of his hair, voice soft as his thumb rubs circles into your side. “Too much?”

You nod, quietly echoing his question as a form of agreement. His hair slips between your fingers as he suddenly lifts himself up from his seat. His hands slide onto either side of you, caging you against his desk as he towers over you. Papers crumple beneath his palms and are quickly cast aside as he leans closer, the sound a subtle display of his unraveling restraint. His eyes, though clouded with lust, look over you gently.

“Any further instructions.”

“Do whatever you want.”

He kneads the flesh of your hips, quirking an eyebrow at your request. “Are you sure? We can stop if you’re tired.” 

You shake your head, as weak as you are you’re unwilling to stop. He shifts you forward, riding a hand up your abdomen and uncoupling the remaining buttons on your makeshift dress. The fabric is tucked behind your waist as he traces your curves. His hand travels lower, dividing space between your bodies with his thumb as his palm presses into your lower abdomen. You twitch as his finger taps your swollen bud.

“Sensitive?”

Your knees knock against his waist as he continues to flick the mound. He dips his finger between your folds, coating his thumb with the remnants of your orgasm. The finger teases your entrance before slipping inside. Soft, breathy moans escape you as he plays with the tight hole, still throbbing from your release.

“Do what I want, you said?”

His voice is a low drone that lingers in your ears, words muddled as static coils in your stomach. A hand leaves your waist to work on his pants as you lay limp in front of him. Once undone, something warm, heavy but soft, rubs against you. His finger glides up, the skin rising with the pressure of his touch. 

His eyes flicker between you and the scene unfolding between your legs. Mirroring your expression, his mouth lays agape as he slips past your narrowed entrance. You sit up, grabbing hold of his forearm as he fucks your weeping cunt. His untucked shirt rides up, gathering in your clenched fist as you gaze upon the perfect view of him disappearing into you.  You take him so wonderfully. Your head is slow to tilt upward, meeting his gaze. 

A low growl rises from his throat as his hips slow, rolling and sinking deeper inside. You look so pitiful, so cute he can’t take it anymore. Your gaze slips as your body goes limp, giving in to his rhythm. Your second orgasm is quick to come. Your legs tremble over his arms, body tensing as he picks up the pace, pounding his hips into yours.

He stills, watching breathlessly as you come undone once again. 

The music playing breaks through the haze. Discarded papers littered the room. The wood of his desk, cluttered with crumpled paper and toppled deskware, frames the mischievous kitten that batted them aside. Belly up, you lazily drape an arm over your eyes to shield yourself from his wicked grin.

“Done already?”

[oppygooddoies]

⋆˚࿔ unrendered qi yu

[oppygooddoies]

Wildlight Chronicles ending

inspired by Springtime by Pierre Auguste Cot 1873

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i felt like drawing a 'about to snap' pookie today so i went with it uwu

[oppygooddoies]

the micro-expressions are CRAZY in this scene..

when we pinned him down and asked whether he destroyed the gold coin, his eyes narrowed as if he’s hurt by how we don’t trust him.. 😭 the silence as if he couldn’t believe it…

There are other ways to enter the arena. I can guarantee that. I'm being honest. You know that.

oh my god, jUST STAB ME

[oppygooddoies]

LIKE A FUCKING POKÉMON?!!!!?

[oppygooddoies]

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This is just the sour that comes with the otome genre. They’re treated like cashgrabs with an underdeveloped story that has potential, but suffers in favor for content that’s easier to produce

how exactly are they planning on inserting a new li into this

[oppygooddoies]

[oppygooddoies]

The hand holding 💞

[oppygooddoies]

Girl Dad Sylus Headcanons ♥︎

Warnings: slight allusions to self harm.

other than that, there is nothing here but pure fluff and maybe some comfort(?)

I love how a large part of the fandom looks at Sylus and collectively agrees "he'll be a girl dad". And needless to say, I'm very much part of the Girl Dad Sylus Truthers, so I figured I should contribute some more to the agenda (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟAs always, I haven't really proofread this, but I at least tried to be somewhat organized dhdjfj

Also, I'm currently at the airport bored out of my mind so this got pretty long. It was such a pleasant way to spend the time and so I didn't hold myself back at all. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy ♡(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭

Credit to @/fawndollie for the divider ♡

Sylus' daughter will always be well provided for emotionally, financially, you name it. Unlike him, she won't want for a single thing growing up.

He would ideally want more than one child so that his kid won't ever be lacking a companion her own age. And in his mind, the more the merrier. But he ultimately leaves it up to MC to decide.

Has sung to his little girl ever since she lay in her mother's womb.

Showers her with unconditional love and affection from the very moment she takes her first breath.

Cries when he first holds her. His baby girl makes him feel more vulnerable than he ever imagined himself capable of. He is wrapped around her tiny finger from that moment on.

Can't stop marveling at her or touching her. He has never laid eyes on anything as perfect as his tiny, wailing newborn. The fact that a fiend like him had a part in making something so precious, so innocent... he can hardly believe it.

The immense joy and peace her birth has brought to his heart and soul never dims.

Adjusts his entire sleep schedule to spend time with and take care of her.

Very hands on from the beginning. He takes just as much responsibility as his wife in caring for their daughter.

Has a habit of building his baby soft little nests from blankets and the like (he's a dragon, after all). He likes to curl around her and the nest protectively when she naps.

Is absolutely the type of dad to wear a baby carrier.

Is also the kind of dad that takes tons of pictures of his child. Enough to fill up albums. He wants to commemorate and treasure every single moment.

Her first laugh is the sweetest, most beautiful sound he has heard in all his aeons of life. He absolutely delights in bringing that precious sound out of her no matter how old she gets.

Uses cute nicknames like "Baby", "Princess", "Sweetheart", "Munchkin", "My Little Dove", "Tiger"

His heart melts the first time his little girl says "Dada". And let's not even talk about the first time she says "I love you" (He gets misty eyed). His heart never stops melting, no matter how many times he hears her say either.

Gets very excited about her first birthday and goes all in planning it. And with each birthday that comes, his joy and his pride in his little princess' growth and milestones only increase.

Most likely develops mild back pain due to spending so much time with his tall frame bent down to accommodate his child. But to Sylus, that is a tiny price to pay in exchange for spending time with his baby girl.

Delights in telling her bedtime stories, especially fairytales involving dragons and princesses.

Baking is another common bonding activity.

Enjoys being out in nature with her, and early on imbues her with respect and care for wildlife. Also teaches her how to make pretty flower crowns.

Regularly takes her on daddy daughter dates. (This is them)

Absolutely 100% spoils her. She has more toys and games than she can feasibly play with. If she ever mentions that she likes or wants something even once she will have it by the very next day.

That being said, Sylus is not a pushover and can be strict when it's for her own good. She has timeouts (and curfews once allowed out on her own). She can't always have whatever food strikes her fancy, especially not when sick. He won't give in to tantrums. He scolds her when appropriate (but gently and with empathy and whilst taking the time to also listen to her).

He never raises his voice at her. Ever.

Stays up with her all night when she is ill, comforting and caring for her. Holds her in his arms when she cries, softly sings her her favorite songs, and gently strokes her hair or rubs her back.

Like him, his daughter loves to sing, and also like him, she cannot carry a tune. When she begs him to buy a karaoke machine, he isn't difficult to convince, and the enthusiastic but tone deaf daddy daughter duo has lots of fun torturing the poor machine with their... unique vocals.

Sylus is of course very proud of his daughter's singing. And for her part, Sylus' daughter genuinely adores her dad's singing. Maybe because she is part dragon herself, or perhaps because she has heard his singing for as long as she can remember and even earlier still. Likely both.

He adores her carefree childish chatter, and listens attentively to what she has to say, nodding, commenting and asking follow up questions. She always feels seen and heard and valued by him.

Very physically affectionate towards her. He loves it when she crawls into his lap and puts her little arms around his neck for a cuddle, or when she runs up to him with outstretched arms wanting to be carried by him.

Because he is a giant, his little girl often uses him as a personal jungle gym, and he lets her do so without complaint, finding it amusing.

A wonderful playmate. He loves to play with her, especially pretend. He goes all in for her sake, always creating as fun and exciting a game as possible. Her laughter and shrieks of joy heal his inner child.

Like her mother, Sylus' little girl has a habit of falling asleep in his lap or atop his chest when she is tuckered out. Sylus adores it.

Wears the colorful bracelets she makes him in preschool with love and pride. Those, along with the drawings and barely legible little notes she gives him are some of his greatest treasures. Much more valuable than any of the gems in his vast collection.

Lets her put glitter, stickers, hair ties etc. on him and will wear them without feeling the least bit self conscious. He knows how happy it makes his daughter and he is proud of her handiwork and creativity.

Often does her hair. He has perfected the craft by the time she starts school, and her braids are the envy of her classmates.

Always shows up to her recitals without fail. Business meeting? Consider it canceled. He is not missing his baby's performance for the world.

He helps her practice beforehand, singing and dancing with her and helping her pick out the prettiest dress. Will also participate if she gets stage fright

Extremely patient and emotionally attentive. He respects and communicates with his daughter. Asks her questions and listens attentively to her answers.

Very good at soothing and calming his little girl. For example, he is the type of parent to ask when she takes a fall whilst learning to ride a bike "Did it hurt you or did it scare you?" and to both comfort and talk her through it.

Takes immense pride witnessing her negotiating skills whilst exchanging things like sweets or stickers with her friends.

Encourages and takes an interest in her hobbies, be it science, sports, girl scouts, gaming, etc.

As she grows, he revels in making her groan and roll her eyes with his arsenal of dad jokes. He was born for this.

Takes her on motorcycle rides once she grows old enough, and will also be the one to teach her how to drive herself when she wants to get a license.

Teaches her self defense from a pretty early age.

He is very protective of her and has laid out certain rules she must always follow for her safety, but he is not at all stifling or controlling. He understands and values the importance of his child developing her independence and individuality.

He makes sure that she has impenetrable confidence in herself and that she never doubts her potential.

He also does all he can to instill self love in her from the beginning. He knows what it is to hate one's appearance, to feel "wrong", and what that can lead to. He doesn't want his own child to ever feel the same way he once did, and so he early on reveals his horns and tail to her, wanting to teach her that looking or being different than most doesn't make you less than your peers – it makes you unique, makes you you, and it's something to be proud of.

Keeps tabs on her location via Mephisto when she is on her first date.

Is furious when she has her heart broken for the first time, his own clenching painfully as she sobs into his chest. But despite his anger, and his desire to go disintegrate the idiot who did this to his little girl, he restrains himself, focusing on his child and on comforting and being there for her. As he always has and always will.

Come what may, he loves, supports, and stands by his daughter unconditionally.

[oppygooddoies]

The fact that she is sitting in his lap whilst they're shooting their pursuers auugh 💘💓❤️‍🔥

[oppygooddoies]

Omg 🤭🤭🤭

a/n: to the anon fiending for xavier in my inbox

──⠀. ⋆ ⭒݁₊ ⊹ ┊✩₊˚.┊⋆☾⋆ ˚ . ⋆

⟢ “going quiet again?”

the city’s lights leak through the curtain. stripes of moonlight illuminating your pathetic figure drowning in the haze. the hand tightened around your throat doesn’t help either, the tender skin underneath riddled with hickey marks. sweat mingles as his heaving chest pins you against the headboard, his head lying lazily on your shoulder.

⟢ “you said you needed this, right? needed me?”

his words huff against your skin as his teeth graze down your back. you struggle to respond with his hand pressed against your neck, pussy throbbing as his hips smack against your ass. the sweat on your neck causes his hand to slide upward with every thrust, his thumb presses against your lips as he maintains his hold on you. your lips part for him, taking and swirling your tongue around his finger. his rhythm slows as he groans, the familiar suction tickles the pad of his thumb. feeling the edges of your mouth before retrieving his hand and grabs the flesh of your hips, stilling you for a moment. you collapse onto the bed once out of his hold, back still arched as you take the time to catch your breath.

relief interrupted by a wet finger pressed against your ass. you miss the time to react, his hold on your hips is unbreakable. you groan as his finger intrudes the untouched part of your body, the stretch of tender flesh sends chills up your spine. he swats your pleading hand away once you grab onto him, your incoherent cries muffled by a mouth full of pillows. he leans over, voice almost low like a growl.

⟢ “what did I say about running away?”

he resumes his rough pace, pounding your sensitive cunt while admiring how tight your ass wraps around his finger. you barely have room to struggle, hesitant to move forward with his thumb hooked inside you.

you bite down on the pillows, hand raking up your hair while the other grabs the edge of the mattress.

⟢ “done fighting me, baby?” he breathes, holding back his smile.

he tilts your ass up until his balls smack against your aching bud. the hairs on your body stand, the direct stimulation tightening the knot in your stomach. you do your best to endure despite being completely overwhelmed. it’s enough to take you there.

you breathe through your body’s shivers and cries, surrendering to the sensations. suddenly, he slips out of you after feeling your body tense around him, leaving you empty before flipping you over. his gaze is heavy as he towers over you, eyes batting between your swollen lips and watery eyes.

⟢ “all that talk over the phone.”

you melt into him as he leans down to kiss you, lips gathered in between his. moans mingle in the air as a gentle hand rides up your thigh, pressing your knee against your shoulder. your foreheads press together as he breaks away from the kiss, muttering softly against your lips.

⟢ “you think I’m anywhere near being done with you? don’t come yet.”

──⠀. ݁˚★⋆｡ ⋆

[oppygooddoies]

nestle in the tulips with mama 🌷