#captured prince au

[potatomountain]

“Fallen Crown” pt 2

Pt 2: Fate Sealed

Captured prince Yeosang[Ateez] x “tainted” Princess fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of r*pe, manipulation, trauma, reader is a royal “puppet”, Yeosang is a captured prince of a neighboring empire, Yeosang in chains. Reader is lowkey a badass. Mentions of death, fights to the death, torture, gladiator ring- gladiator fights. Lashes, some slight flirting, sexual implications, non-con implications (not yeo, never yeo). Blood, sword-fighting, injuries.

Word count: 4.6k

An: figured it was time for part two of this, and honestly it didn’t go just as I imagined- Yeosang kinda took over and decided he was running the show xD any and all feedback is appreciated.

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also, taglist (message or ask to be on): @lelaleleb / @hwaightme-recs /  @candypop1611  / @inkpot-winters / @avantalem / @ammystri /

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Part of me wondered how it managed to come to this, stepping down from the stage until I stood face to face with my opponent. He won all ten battles, with surprisingly less injuries than I expected, but it was clear he was at his limit… the fact he had handled ten of the strongest fighters this Arena had and was still standing, no deep injuries.

I should be scared, the fact this was my opponent, when I was still such a novice fighter myself. The King had sounded both pleased and disappointed at this outcome, and I wondered which one of us he wanted to see lose more. Which one he wanted to see lashed and bleeding for his audience. His own daughter? Or this captured Prince? 

I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of this at all, but I knew I had to obey. What else could I do? They would not make my death quick, and they wouldn't make this man's death quick either. Obliging the horrendous demands of the tyrant King was the only option. 

I didn't have to like it. "Just… make this quick." I called over to him, taking in his labored breathing, all sorts of scratches and brushes on his body, pieces of torn fabric darkened further by his blood. His dark eyes lifted to mine, an unreadable expression as we were both handed swords. I swallowed hard, trying to moisten my sudden dry throat even a little.

I should be scared, definitely, after watching how skilled this man was taking down skilled fight after fighter without a single weapon, no matter his injuries or the like, there was no comparison in our levels. This wasn't a fair fight, I lost from the beginning. 

So why wasn't I scared? Why did I feel a sense of calm when I looked upon his form, more concerned that I might mar his pretty face or accidentally injure him [or myself]? I didn't really have time to process why, as the horns blew to signal the start of the fight. We were both given short swords, with him twirling his with ease with one hand and yet I still needed two- another contrast to our skill.

"I'm going to attack your left." He called out, just enough for me to hear, before he charged forward.

I moved out of instinct, jumping back but getting knocked ever so slightly in the stomach before I brought my own sword up, clashing with his. Cheers erupted from the stands but I paid them no mind. He announced his next attack, this time giving me more than enough to process and counter.

I couldn't, for the life of me, understand why he was doing this. The fight was getting dragged out, out of instinct I was following his commands, even when he told me to attack him. Was he doing this to put on a show? One the crowd was loving. He looked beyond exhausted, struggling here and there as we continued a sword dance that he was constructing. 

Dodge left, swing up, roll back, press forward. Command after command, and yet I was obeying. Why was I following along? I should just let him land a hit, end this embarrassment. It’s not like I wanted to obey, I found that I rather detested it, yet here I was, following his commands to a tee.

The crowd loved it, the scene that this man was orchestrating; my lack of abilities still shone through, and it was his apparent exhaustion that led to my ability to dodge his attacks. Even I believed that he was simply exhausted, that he didn’t have the strength to put into each swing of his sword, if not for the gentle commands he spoke before each swing.

Minutes had gone by, sweat beading my neck and forehead and the sword beginning to feel heavy in my own hands. “Are you ready to end this?” He had muttered, our swords locked in a clash at the hilts, faces so close I could see the sweat running down his too pale skin, mingling with a cut to his cheek I had just put there a second ago. I wanted to reach out, wipe the blood away and apologize for hurting him, but this was not the time. So I simply nodded.

“I’ll take the lashings, you’ve done enough.” I breathed out, taking a step back and pushing his sword out of the way. His eyes widened with shock, the weapon flinging out of his hands to land several feet away.

My eyes followed the object, tensing up at this new development. “Aim for my right shoulder.” But of course he was giving another command, and I obeyed, hoping he would just dodge it and dive for the sword.

The sharp edge of the sword digging into his flesh as he fell to his knees before me was the last thing I expected, the last thing I wanted. He cried out, perhaps more for show than in actual pain, the stands rumbling with the loud cheers and stomping of feet.

Finish him. Cut off his head.

I tried to ignore the harsh chants, staring down as blood pooled from the wound I had made, pulling my sword out and stumbling back out of shock. All other wounds had been shallow, while this was not. A large gash- bone would probably be visible once the blood stopped gushing out and soaking the black and white fabric of his tunic- stared back at me tauntingly.

“Enough!” The King boomed out, quieting the crowd and effectively saving me from doing more damage to the man before me than I’d like. Except, I had forgotten in my panic that there was more to come. “The fallen Prince shall receive the ten lashings from our royal whore. Bring out the whip.”

Stiffening, I looked down at the top of Yeosang’s head, his hand covering his shoulder as if that was going to stop the bleeding. My mind was in overdrive, replaying the fight, his words, his actions, until I could only come to one conclusion: He planned this. He had every intention of taking the lashes from the beginning, to play the perfect entertainment and put up just enough of a fight no one else would question my victory.

My stomach churned with uneasiness as I blinked rapidly to fight back the tears. Whatever pride I had left was in shambles, as the realization hit that my opponent was more concerned about my pride, my wellbeing, then the kingdom that I belonged to. His concern cut deeper than any sword, spread and burned in my veins more than any poison, and threatened to consume me.

It was the sword being ripped out of my hand, and replaced with a whip, that had my mind focusing on the situation once more. “Ten lashes, my dear daughter.” I could only nod at the King’s words, watching as Yeosang was dragged and chained up to the pole. I had no choice but to follow, stepping onto the stage as his tunic was ripped in half, exposing his back while the torn fabric hung loosely on his arms. “Make them count.”

I swallowed to try and get some moisture into my far too dry throat, but to no avail. The whip felt far too heavy in my hands, the exposed skin on his back unmarred aside from some small nicks during his fights today, blood running down his shoulder but at a much slower pace now. That was my only solace, that perhaps he would not bleed out, that I could repay his fucked up kindness some other way even if I was about to scar the man ten more times.

My hand tightened on the whip, the guards giving me ample space and staying out of range, perhaps afraid I might try and use the whip against them in a fit of anger. Either way, they left me free to speak without being heard. “You should’ve let me take the lashes.” With as much strength as I could muster, I swung down, the whip cracking against his flesh, the sound echoing in the arena. “He’s going to do plenty more to you anyways.” The second whip, dragging a bit of the blood from the first lash, both beginning to welt almost instantly.

The fact Yeosang was silent, nothing more than a meager grunt with each new lash mark added to his back. Three, then four, then five. My hand was trembling as I lifted the whip for the sixth, angle off and hitting too close to his torn shoulder. He cried out, loud enough for the nearest onlookers to hear, and I felt my heart clench at their cheers. I had tried, as much as I could, to avoid his right shoulder, but I had never held a whip before or harmed someone in this way… I could only do so much.

As if he knew, which he probably did, he looked over his shoulder, a soft smile as if to reassure me peeking over the bloody gash for my eyes only. “It’s alright, I can handle more than this.”

I found myself once more blinking back tears, bringing down the whip for the seventh with a much louder crack. His back was more red than the pale white of his skin, from the blood to welts to bruises beginning to form. “I can as well, Your Majesty. In fact, it is only a matter of time before I am on the receiving end of this whip.”

It wasn’t a lie, I didn’t mention my fate to receive pity or sympathy, and he didn’t seem to give me either. There was a shift in his gaze, as if looking at me with new found appreciation. “And yet you aren’t afraid?”

I shrugged, bringing the whip up. “Why would I be? It is my fate, whether as a pure princess married off, or this-” I brought it down, catching his left shoulder dangerously close to his neck. Two more to go. “You can’t hope for more if there was never a chance to begin with.” I knew how sad, how heartbreaking my situation was- Clara would often cry for my fate as I had no more tears to shed. Any solace helped ease the reminder I had a nose around my neck since birth, a fate I long since grew accustomed to.

To spare myself the look in his eyes, the ninth lash was a bit harder than before, resulting in another cry and his head falling forward. It hurt more to hear his pained cry, than my own situation. He was someone who had more, and yet he had it taken. I had nothing, even this cursed punishment was more than my previous life, and even then it wasn’t much of an improvement.

I pitied him, but I could not pity myself.

The tenth lash came quickly, marring his lower back to avoid the cluster of gashes just below his shoulders. With disgust I threw the bloody whip to the side, turning to look up to the pavilion where the man responsible for all this stood with a sadistic smirk, hands gripping the railing. “Perhaps I underestimated you my dear Daughter, you could’ve been as cruel as I.”

The words stung, but they were an opening for something more, a string I could grasp on to get a bit more solace in this life. “Cruel? Your Majesty, allow me to prove how cruel I can be, for your entertainment.” I motioned to the bloodied man. “Give me responsibility over this prisoner, from his lashes to his care, as I’d like to see him live long enough to appease your entertainment, long after his skin is no more than raised scars and deformed features. What say you?!” I was amazed at how steady my voice rang through the arena, the cheers at the idea just what I liked to hear.

While they may take it as cruelty, I knew Yeosang could decipher the truth. It was my form of mercy, putting myself on the line to try and ease even a bit of his pain- but if he protested now, it would come back to me. I didn’t know much about this man, but I had discerned a weakness he didn’t show the hundreds of onlookers: he was a gentleman who didn’t want to cause even a tainted whore like I any pain. It was a kindness I wished to repay, albeit a little, and this was the only way I could think of.

“Very well.” The King called out appreciatively. “If he dies before we grow tired of him, then your head will fall with his.” Just like that, your fate was tied to the man before you; the man who was now being picked up and dragged towards the exit. 

Perhaps he did see this move of yours as cruel, and not as the mercy you saw it as, but the dead was done.

He met your eyes briefly, and for the first time, seemed to glare at you, the rage you had long expected finally appearing in those gorgeous dark eyes of yours.

Your life was bound to his.

.

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Night was falling, only the torches lit the cells as I passed and yet the majority of them were still dark. There were few with barred windows that gave the prisoners some connection with the outside world, but the moon hadn’t risen just yet, the last bit of the sun’s rays unable to reach the dark crevices even through the bars. Only my lantern and the guard’s torch lit up Yeosang’s cell, a frown pulling on my features as I took in the sight of him.

“Why did you do it?” He didn’t look back at me, slumped in the middle of the floor once again covered in the chains I had removed from him before, no care what-so-ever had been given to him, not even a meal or clean clothes.

I had expected this, all such things in the large basket I carried as I nodded at the guard with me to unlock the door. I was silent as the keys jingled, the click of the lock opened, and I was let in. “One hour, and then I am to fetch you.”

“Thank you.” I nodded towards the guard, who only sneered before walking away with half my light. I turned the lantern up, moved past Yeosang to set the lantern on the table by the far corner, taking my time. I could feel his eyes on me, demanding an answer to his question, but I wasn’t ready to give it just yet. “Why did you show mercy on me? We both know that fight should have been yours, the lashes should have been mine.”

Keeping my back to him, thankful for the black fabric of the gown I wore, I slowly took out each item I had brought. Bandages, clothes, some bread and cheese, a large canteen of water, and a few rags to clean him up with. There was alcohol and some needle and thread, which I was hesitant to bring but I knew his shoulder needed it.

“Thank you.” I nodded towards the guard, who only sneered before walking away with half my light. I turned the lantern up, moved past Yeosang to set the lantern on the table by the far corner, taking my time. I could feel his eyes on me, demanding an answer to his question, but I wasn’t ready to give it just yet. “Why did you show mercy on me? We both know that fight should have been yours, the lashes should have been mine.”

When he didn’t answer, I glanced back, a brow lifted. “Well?”

He sighed, hands at his sides gripping the chains. “I did not wish to harm a lady.”

I had expected this, all such things in the large basket I carried as I nodded at the guard with me to unlock the door. I was silent as the keys jingled, the click of the lock opened, and I was let in. “One hour, and then I am to fetch you.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “I am no lady, Your Majesty, has that not been obvious?” I moved closer, reaching out to grab the chains. “I am a pawn, always have been, always will be, to the Tyrant I ironically call father. I am what he says, and therefore I am no lady. This… arrangement is as much for me as it is for you.”

He watched my hands as I pulled each chain off him gently, setting them at the foot of the bed and out of the drying blood around him. “How so?”

“Well for starters, as long as this form of entertainment amuses him, he will not try to find another use for me.”

When I didn’t continue, he prompted softly, as if not really wanting to hear the answer. “And what other use would he have?”

I shrugged, pushing his torn fabric down his arms to lay at his waist with the rest of the fabric. With his torso exposed fully, I hissed through clenched teeth. “I am but a prize to his favorite fighters. A few of the men you had fought today had won before. They enjoy partaking in the fight, to win a so-called Princess for a night and do as they desire, and have chosen that over freedom.” I stood back up, avoiding his gaze as I grabbed the rags and equipment I needed, coming back to kneel before him, reaching out to wipe the blood from his shoulder with a rag. “It’s only a matter of time before he presents you with the same option- or, God forbid, gives one of them the option to have their way with me in that arena.”

I felt him tense under my hand at my words and I risked a glance. My breath caught at the unbridled rage crossing his features, the way his upper lip pulled up in a snarl. “He would do that- to you?”

Slowly I nodded, perplexed by his words. “He has mentioned it before, if I do not behave.” It was an odd thing, someone getting angry on my behalf: a stranger no less. “Were you not aware of how he is? You led a rebellion against him.” It was a poor attempt to get the focus off me, but I could only hope it would work so I could focus on the wounds.

He didn’t answer, opting for silence as I dabbed away as much of his blood as I could, exposing each wound that littered his chest. He was indeed beautiful, even with the gashes and bruises marring the muscles. The type of beauty I would often dream of as the male lead of those books Clara would bring me, that had me hoping for a Prince to sweep me away from this place. Perhaps I would’ve been married to him, or another one of his brothers, if I had remained a Pure Princess; a fact that was unlikely, but nice none-the-less.

We settled in a comfortable silence as I cleaned up him, a silence that was a little less comfortable as I moved to his back, my guilt eating away at me as I took in just how sweltered the lashes were. “You know… I try not to despair over my fate, over the things I have done, over what I am meant to do… but I would say today is the first time I regret this life.” 

He stiffened over my wandering fingers as they lightly traced over each lash after I cleaned it. There was an unspoken question on his lips, in the way his breath hitched and he turned just enough to watch me out of the corner of his eye. I wonder if he saw the sadness I felt, the guilt, no doubt reflected in the set of my lips or the tears threatening to fall in my gaze. “The last time someone had shown me kindness, she died in this arena. And now this time, it is a stranger that shows me kindness, that questions my existence as if it is unnatural… I suppose it is, but I tried not to mind it. But this?” My fingers ran up the bit of smooth skin from the top lash to his right shoulder. “To harm that stranger with my own hands, leaves quite the nasty taste in my mouth.”

“Then why-”

“Because it is the only mercy I could think of. Better my hands, my damnation, than that of the brutes who enjoy the power play of harming someone who they believed to have been above them at one point.” Emotions clouded my head, my actions of their own violation without confirmation of a thought as I leaned forward and pressed my lips just next to his wound, my eyes meeting his. “This is the only kindness I can give to the man who has shown me more than I dare ask for.”

He didn’t say anything, all emotion falling from his face as he turned to face forward, leaving me to my own devices. The silence that followed was both heavy and yet comfortable; he didn’t protest as I cleaned him up and took care of each wound, even haphazardly stitching up his shoulder and a few of the lashes that were much deeper than I thought and intended. He winced, muttering curses as I cleaned them with the alcohol, and even more so as I wrapped the bandages around his torso and over his shoulder.

I stood up, motioning for his clothes. “Strip, I have clean clothes for you for now. Don’t worry, I won’t look.” I handed him the black coarse tunic and trousers, the only ones I could find really but they would have to do.

As he changed, the shuffling of chains and fabric the only indication, I busied myself with putting away the dirty rags that were now stained with his blood, and the empty alcohol container. Only when he cleared his throat did I turn, holding out the now half empty water container and the bread and cheese wedge. “I hope this will suffice for food for now, I will see about what other meals I could bring you.”

He nodded, taking them from me, before sitting on the harsh cot that was more wood than fabric. “And you? What about your wounds?”

I bit my lip at his question, my eyes locked on the cut on his cheek. “Mine can wait.” I had hoped the black dress would hide the fact I had yet to tend to my own wounds, but mine were not as deep or in need of care. “Your cheek-” I reached out, only for him to grab my wrist and lock eyes with me. “Your Majesty I-”

“Call me Yeosang, Princess, I am no royalty here.”

“Neither am I, so don't call me Princess.” I didn’t pull out of his grip, just watched as he turned to place a kiss on the inside of my wrist. It was gentle, but I was sure he could feel my pulse skip at the sensation of his lips.

“Then what am I to call you?” He pressed another kiss up my arm and I could feel my cheeks redden.

This time I did pull my hand away. “Please do not try and seduce me, Yeosang- while the King would gladly let you have your way, there is nothing I can do for you outside of what I have so far.” I warned softly, motioning for him to eat. 

“I could say the same for you Princess. You are as trapped here as I, do you think I could free you from here?”

I shook my head without hesitation, taking a few steps back and avoiding his smoldering gaze. There was a shift in the tension between us, both accusing but also like a thousand sparks threatening to burn me alive in a way I was sure I would welcome. “If you think that is my true intention with the deal I made with the King, you are wrong. I am merely trying to make the last of my days as painless as I can, but I will not run from my fate.” 

“I see… prideful to the end?” He took a sip from the canteen, breaking eye contact as I smiled wryly.

“Not prideful, merely stubborn. I cannot take my own life, I cannot do something to have it taken from me. Any attempt at escape would be meaningless as it would only increase the surveillance and suffrage I am meant to forgo until the day the King decides my head shall meet the guillotine. Perhaps it is simply cowardice on my part, to work with the hand I’ve been given and try for some semblance of a life in this hell, but it is all I’ve known so there is comfort in that.” I pointed a finger at him. “But you, you chose to come here, to fight, I do not see you sitting pretty as I do, nor playing into the hands of the crowd and the King. Does that not make you the prideful one?”

He didn’t answer, the only acknowledgement to my statement was a smirk playing on his lips before he bit into the cheese. I could hear the guard from earlier approaching, the hall illuminating slowly by his torch. “My time is up, I will stop by once more tomorrow. The Arena is only active two days per week, so  you have time to rest.”

I went over to finish cleaning up my mess, grabbing his discarded clothes to add to the rags. “I’ll have these cleaned for you.” As in I was going to wash them myself.

Just before the guard came into view, I felt an arm wrap around my waist, the warmth of his body pressed against my back and his hot breath on my neck. “Four months.”

I turned to ask what he meant, only to hear the chuckle of the guard as he knocked the keys against the bars. “My, you work fast don’t you whore? Already have this fucker wrapped around your finger too? Just remember you don’t get to fuck anyone your father doesn’t give permission for, doll.”

I stiffened in Yeosang’s hold, pulling away and grabbing both the basket and the lantern before hurrying to the door as the guard unlocked it. “That must be tortuous for you then guard, that a prisoner like myself has a better chance of fucking her than you do.” Yeosang’s words were cold, pointed, and I nearly missed the clench of his jaw.

The guard just snarled. “I doubt this pussy is worth your freedom, scum, as for me it could be just a fortnight’s pay.” No sooner had I stepped out was the crude man gripping my chin. “I hear she’ll spread her legs for anyone for the right price, a Princess still likes to spend money after all.”

I slapped his hand away, forcing a smile. “Aye, and if you think a fortnight of your pay is enough for a Princess, even a slut like I, you are dumber than I as well.” I walked past him, scurrying ahead. “Don’t try to touch me again, as you said… my father likes to choose who gets the privilege to do so, beg him first.” The words were only added to prevent the man from acting out in anger, yet it was another guard making rounds that ultimately saved me from humiliation.

I didn’t look back, nor listen for any final words.

This was my fate, and I was not to be ashamed of it in front of him- he was not a knight in shining armor, but just a man who shared my fate. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder… What did he mean by that? Was it a declaration of his conquest over me? Was it an answer to my previous question over which of us would break first? Was it a prediction of how long this farce would last? Or how long he would have left to live?

Four months… there was no good outcome I could think of, so the time frame only filled me with dread.

____

Next Chapter

[demaparbat-hp]

Maybe... the Fire Nation's got a point?

AKA the Katara Willingly Joins Zuko In His Quest To Find The Avatar AU

[llondonfog]

i'm still in absolute awe over my commission from @cozymochi !!! thank you again so much for bringing to life my vision of prince!silver and his fae bodyguard!!! <333333

[gohandinhand]

the biggest of thank yous to @princington for bringing pnw au: summer to life with such care! 🥺🥰

[serenescribe]

the prince's physician Twisted Wonderland | 3.7k Summary: Malleus is the prince’s physician. He reflects on everything his role entails. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52875436 Collaboration with @ohsleepie | Potential spoilers for elements of Chapter 7

Hello everyone! This fic is directly inspired by @ohsleepie's wonderful "The Prince and his Physician" AU, and wound up being an impromptu collaboration featuring absolutely stunning and incredible art drawn by Sleepie himself! Please check him out and follow him!

I'm so happy to share this, and I hope that you all enjoy it!

The days between the prince’s passing and his inevitable reincarnation always feel the longest to Malleus.

Time, as it is, is a slow-paced thing; such is life for him as the last of his kind, a single year feeling far more miniscule for him than it does for a human. Malleus loses track of the days easily, slips up on his months and years. He is only aware of the passage of time through distant observations of festivities — celebrations to herald in a new year, for one, or the prince’s birthday, for another.

But rather than track the time through each changing year, Malleus tracks them in cycles of Silver’s life and death.

With each new reincarnation, each new cycle brought anew, something imperceptible shifts in the air. A rebirth means many things — to the kingdom’s populace, it is yet another year of a curse yet unbroken; to Malleus, it is a tangible, physical mark of his failures. But failures aside, there is something so jarring, so off-putting, about seeing the nursemaids and servants whisk a cradle through the halls of the castle, a cradle Malleus knows the contents of.

It is Silver, always Silver, a slumbering baby identical to the dozens that came before him — wispy locks of silver hair that plaster against his forehead, pudgy hands and chubby cheeks, and when he opens his eyes, those same, breathtaking hues of the brightest auroras.

Malleus always stops and stares whenever these moments occur. For an instant, his breath is stolen right from his throat by some unseen thief; his mind dredges up memories of when he, himself, was young, stirring to life old cycles when he was but a child himself, unable to comprehend Silver’s passing and subsequent return. It had taken him quite some time to grasp all of it — but then again, could one truly blame Malleus when his guardian figure, the kindly young prince his age who took him in and treated him well, had died in bed, only to reappear as a wee babe?

But when Silver returns, Malleus feels as though he can breathe again, an invisible knot in his throat loosened.

Because when Silver is gone, Malleus feels… useless, for lack of a better word. His own memories of his childhood are haphazard and spotty, mainly made up of foggy recollections of surviving in the harsh brambles of fae forests. For many, many years, he has found a purpose, was given one through being brought to this human kingdom: break our prince’s curse, and save him from Death’s unyielding grip.

There are few here who deign to interact with him beyond courteous pleasantries. They turn their noses up at him, eyes narrowing, lips twisting; it is fae, they whisper to each other, voices dripping with venom. If not for its magic, its prowess, surely we would have left it to die.

Silver is kind to him, has always been ever since he was young. So is it truly so shocking that Malleus feels so lost with him gone, and feels so relieved whenever he returns?

(And yet, intermingled with the relief, buried underneath such feelings of solace, there lurks another monster. A sense of guilt which festers, slowly growing over time.

An old memory rises whenever Malleus reflects on it for too long, of Silver’s voice:

“I wish for you to break my curse, Malleus. But I do not want to be immortal. My people have suffered for far too long, unable to grow and prosper due to my unending fate.”

He remembers a soft, sad smile.

“To relieve them of that burden, to allow them to grow with my final passing… that is what I wish for, above all else.”)

“How are you feeling today, your majesty?”

It is always odd, with each new cycle. To reacquaint himself with this new Silver — so much like the one before, in his appearance and demeanour, yet lacking the full memories of his past. Malleus knows Silver recalls just enough, especially when aided with the meticulous journals his previous incarnations have kept, but it is jarring, all the same, to reintroduce himself to someone he has known for many, many decades.

Silver blinks at him from the bed, the four-poster frame draped with too many silks and gauzes, too big for a boy of his size. His eyes are tinged with crusts of sleep, bags forming under them despite the medicines and foods they all have him eat, and yet there is such a strange tranquillity resting in his expression whenever Malleus sees him. “I’m quite alright, Malleus,” he responds, voice scarcely a whisper, soft and sweet. “And you don’t need to call me such formalities. We’ve been over this many times.”

Malleus exhales, the breath slipping through his nose.

No matter how many times Silver tells him as such — and it has been plentiful, through Silvers young and old, of different years, different decades, different centuries — Malleus still abides by such titles, at least when he first speaks to him. It gets easier as the years pass, as he acquaints himself a bit closer, as Silver inches closer to another inevitable death, but all the same—

“You are to be his physician,” a voice instructs him, the memory looming to life once more, “and you do not stand on equal ground with him. As such, you are to abide by our formalities: he is to be referred to as ‘your majesty,’ and nothing else.”

“Prince Silver,” Malleus says instead, the title a little clunky on his tongue. Silver raises an eyebrow at him, but does not push. He merely sits in place as Malleus walks over, his heels clicking against the floor, tail lashing behind the fabrics of his half-skirt. “Allow me to check you over today, if you will.”

“At this point, you need not even ask.”

The days go by the same way they always do: Malleus inspects Silver over carefully, running careful hands over every inch of his body before he adjusts his magic, and delves deeper into the beyond. His instincts are carefully attuned for any little change, anything he has never seen or felt before — any anomaly at all could give a new direction for him to research in, and a new possibility of a means to break the curse.

(He refuses to let himself think too hard about what breaking the curse truly entails. Malleus has ruminated over it over the course of many, many cycles, laying wide awake in bed, staring up at elegantly painted murals on the ceiling in the dark of night. It is always the same thing — should he abide by the kingdom’s wishes, or by his prince’s?

In the end, regardless of which route he chooses, Malleus shall break the curse. But it is the eternal dilemma presented to him that tangles his soul day after day — what would truly be better, to let Silver live past the ages of youth and mature into an all-powerful, immortal king? Or to let him die in peace, freeing his people from the burdens of a monarchy, their hopes and dreams all inextricably tied to their young and dying prince?

And, to another extent, the other part of the question Malleus thinks about, what does he want himself?

There is a part of him that feels such vibrant joy and pride at the thought of Silver thriving — to live as long as Malleus shall, if not even longer; to rule with his steadfastness and kindness, resolute as he heralds a new, immortal age of glory. Malleus knows little about the history of his own kind, but what tiny bits he can dredge up have taught him of a group of creatures with such power and perfection, such beauty and bravery. They thrived in the night, ruled from the shadows, creatures of such majestic, nigh-immortal magic with an arrogance that led to their own downfall.

As a fae himself, Malleus wonders if it is only natural for him to desire such things for Silver. To watch him grow into the ages he has never been able to reach before, to witness him at his fullest might and glory.

And yet, the mere thought of the stabbing betrayal in those auroral eyes, the sadness that may overcome those soft features, is enough to give him pause each and every time.)

He was young when they found him skulking about the brambles.

For as long as Malleus can remember, he has always been alone. Though he’s certain he remembers some sensations of warmth from before he came into being, of being cradled close in a loving embrace, all he remembers, through to his earliest memories, is of being alone.

And for such a lonely fae child, wandering about an overgrown, abandoned valley, what else was there for him to do but survive? To pounce about and gulp down whatever meals he could find, to curl up in the nooks of trees and little rock caverns to try and keep warm… and to hide in the brambles, slitted eyes peering at civilisation from afar.

He’d watched the daily lives of the human kingdom after finding out about their existence, when he was old enough to try and mimic a form similar to their own. Still, Malleus had been too scared to venture too close, some innate part of him screaming at him to stay away, and so he had simply observed from a distance… until one day, they found him.

He remembers little of that day now. It’s all a blur when he tries to recollect it — sharp grips tightening around his limbs as he kicked and thrashed, searing magic that ripped through his veins, burning those who tried to hurt him, being thrown and tossed about, immobilised by something that seared at his skin… All while screaming and yelling flooded the air, his heartbeat thumping chaotically in his ears, head spinning as his surroundings whirled about him—

And then it stopped.

And then there was Silver.

He was young then. That, Malleus recalls. He remembers everything after the pain and the panic with ease, of the way the young boy — just as young as he, with silver hair and such pretty, colourful eyes, and oh-so gentle hands — had removed the searing things that hurt him, and rubbed something that stung before it began to feel better.

“My name is Silver,” the boy told him, in a soft, kind voice that made Malleus feel… safe. “I’m sorry about the pain they caused you. I hope you’re feeling better now.”

Malleus understood him, of course, in some strange, innate way. But his tongue could not shape the same sounds that he heard, no matter how hard he tried. When he spoke, all he could manage was something that chimed and clicked, something Silver didn’t understand.

And yet, in spite of all that, Silver had such patience with him anyway. He allowed Malleus to stay by his side, to stay in his room, eating the same foods that he did — and what a treat they were, for a child who starved as long as he had! — and sleeping in his bed.

Time passed; his wounds healed. His tongue began to curl in all the right ways, taught painstakingly by Silver how to speak in his tongue in-between the periods of time where he had to disappear. Malleus relished in each and every day, the loneliness that haunted him for so long no longer looming over him like a shadow. Now, he had Silver—

Until he didn’t.

Silver hadn’t woken up one day, no matter how hard Malleus tried. Nudging him, shaking him, calling his name until his voice rose in a panic, and the door slammed open, footsteps thumping into the room. He’d been dragged away, kicking and screaming again, the same terror from years ago swelling up once more in his heart; the fire that sparked through his veins, the sheer agony and pain, the lurking realisation that he was alone again.

He remembers very little of those in-between days, the foggy haze of nothingness only pierced by a baby’s cry and the realisation that Silver had somehow returned. But it hadn’t been until years later, years of being stuck in a tiny little bedroom by himself, that Malleus could finally see him again.

Silver was younger now. Younger than Malleus himself. And finally, he explained it to him.

“I have a curse on me,” Silver told him, as simply as possible, as Malleus curled around him in his bed. “And other humans believe you can break it.”

Malleus blinked up at him, raising his head from the soft, downy cushions. “I… can?”

“You can,” Silver affirmed with a gentle smile, his voice high. He reached out, wrapping his arm around Malleus and bringing him close. “Because you’re a fae. You’re so strong. If anyone can help me, it’s you.”

The truth, of course, was far more complex than that simplistic explanation. The truth was that Silver’s curse itself was fae-inflicted and, considering the immense strength of the fair folk, only another fae’s skills would be able to eliminate the curse. But Malleus had been young, and Silver, despite his youth and the fact that he still barely recalled his own memories, was kind, trying to explain everything to Malleus as simply as possible: You are strong, and we believe in you. I believe in you.

And Malleus had accepted it, taking on his new role as the prince’s physician with a regal sort of pride.

Magic slinks through his veins as naturally as blood, the two intermingling and intertwining. It comes to him so easily, far more than even the most expert mages of the kingdom, who have spent decades of their mortal lives honing their skill to a perfect shine.

But for as naturally gifted as Malleus is, he lacks the proper training one should have. That is, not the training of human mages, for he has gone through many cycles worth of such a thing, but the training of a fae.

Fae magic is so distinctly different from that of humans, rooted in their very heart and soul, and in the power of the natural world around them. And though Malleus can adapt to his circumstances, taking what the reluctant tutors teach him and twisting it to suit his own strengths, there is only so much he can learn and do until he hits a wall, and gets stuck in one place.

If only there were other fae still alive, still out there. If only, Malleus thinks longingly, a swell of frustration burgeoning within him as he hits yet another blockade in another theory he’s been trying to test, the ink of his feathered quill dragging to a blotchy halt across the parchment as he struggles to pen what he’s been theorising into written words.

He hears the whispers of the court, day after day. Why isn’t there any progress? the humans ask, as though Malleus can flick his wrist and cure anything instantly. How many years has it been here? How much longer must we suffer? How much more must our prince wait?

And the thing is, Malleus desires nothing more than to be able to snap his fingers and dispel that wretched curse, all at once. But beyond other factors, such as Silver’s private request to him all that time ago to grant him a peaceful death and free his kingdom from the shackles of his immortality, there is the very fact that this is a fae curse, a complex, interweaving system of magic designed to loop Silver’s death, all while bringing him back every time. There is intent behind this convoluted spell, and save nothing short of somehow speaking to the caster himself, there is little Malleus can do but break it all down in reverse.

He rakes a hand through his hair, a growl spilling from his throat. The quill clatters to the table as he drags his hands down his face, biting back a haggard sigh.

The sound of knocking against wood.

“You may enter,” he calls, twisting in his chair to stare at the door.

The hinges squeak as it cracks open, revealing a guardsman who leers at him. “Your presence is requested,” they state, not bothering to hide their disdain, yet having enough basic courtesy not to let it spill into their words. “The council wishes to learn of your progress on breaking his majesty’s curse.”

Dark lips twist into an ugly sneer. The council, Malleus seethes. A group of uppity, stuck-up human nobles, who constantly die and get replaced with equally awful replacements, who keep breathing down his back about any meagre bits of progress he’s been able to make despite Silver’s attempts to get them to stop.

The downsides of Silver constantly reincarnating, needing to relearn everything all over again as he dives back through journals and jostles his own memories, is that he can’t always chase them away, telling them to leave his physician alone, and let him work. This is one of those times, it seems; Silver is too busy learning how to be a human being again, leaving Malleus stranded against a group of men who seem hellbent on making his very existence hell throughout what little bits of life they live.

But it is not as though he can deny a summons. For all his title as the prince’s physician, Malleus knows — has known for such a very long time — that his rank is meaningless without the very prince he serves.

“Tell them that I shall arrive in five minutes.” Picking up his quill, Malleus dips it back into a pot of ink, a furious frustration igniting the spark within him as he turns back to his incomplete report.

It is better than nothing, and that is worth something.

Malleus holds very little loyalty to this kingdom. What else is there for him, when he is destined to outlive everyone within it, and when they are all so bent on treating him as though he personally killed their families?

He is aware of the history between them and his own ancestors, the plentiful fae who used to share these lands until they waged war against the humans, slaughtering them in a painful, bloody battle. The humans had emerged victorious, all the fae driven out or slain, but it had come at the heavy cost of all their royals killed — except for one.

And for years, they had watched their prince grow with pride, until he had died before his coronation. And then it had happened again, and again, and again — they would find him as a baby nestled within a clearing in the nearby woods, identical in each and every iteration, and they would watch as he always died before arriving at his years of maturity, always while he was far too young.

A fae curse, they realised, far too late. How foolish they had been, to dismiss the magic struck against their prince! It is a fate worse than death, they lamented, their spirits growing weary with each new cycle. What shall we do?

Malleus is their answer to their conundrum, a solution to a problem his ancestors made. And yet, for all the supposed salvation he represents and is supposed to bring, he knows what they think of him. And though he understands it, understands the reservations and hatred for everything he represents, he also cannot help but resent them for it.

Why is he treated like he is lesser, when he is trying to help them?

His loyalty lies with their prince, with Silver, for the kindness Malleus has been shown over and over, throughout countless identical reincarnations, countless ends and beginnings. It is the reason why he stays, why he endures it all, why he works painstakingly at dissecting a curse only he stands a chance of understanding, in hopes of shattering this cruel fate once and for all.

He carries the hopes and dreams of the kingdom on his shoulders — a cruel irony, Malleus knows, considering what most of the populace think of him. He is their only hope, in the end.

But the thing is — and this, Malleus has come to realise over time:

It is easy for the humans to root for their prince. It is easy for them to hope, to pray, to plead with whatever higher forces exist out there for the fae physician to break his curse, bringing them all into a golden age of their royal’s immortality. It is easy because they are human; for many of them, they will not live long enough to witness more than perhaps four or five of their prince’s life cycles, forcing them to tell their descendents of their desires to carry on the flames of their hopes.

When one does not live long enough for their awe and admiration, their all-consuming anticipation, to melt away into something far more pessimistic, it is easy to stand strong and proclaim, “I wish for my prince to live forever; I wish for him to lead us into a new age.”

But for Malleus? For the only fae in a kingdom of mortals, destined to outlive each and every one of them by proxy of his heritage alone?

He has lost count of just how many cycles he has witnessed, from the tender years of childhood into the grown fae he is today. He has lost track of how many times he has met Silver for the first time, the servants and guards and nursemaids who care for him and guard him all switching out cycle after cycle, as more of them die and more of them are replaced.

The humans see not what Malleus witnesses over time: the piles of journals that stack up higher and higher; the heavy bags that marr the underside of those striking auroral eyes; the pure exhaustion that sinks into their prince’s every movement and word, the way he gazes upon his kingdom from towering windows.

In the end, this miserable curse can only end one way: Silver must die.

(The question still remains, pressing down on Malleus’ shoulders, an invisible burden weighing him down with each soft smile and greeting he receives.

Shall Silver live forever? Or only once more?)

[riacte]

so hey guys i finished dungeon meshi yesterday and i'm still thinking about it

[rakubalka]

Amity Park in Distress

New Home Part 1

He somehow needs to get Amity to the mortal plane and fast . No matter how liminal people have become too much ectoplasm it's still going to be fatal . If only he had prepared better , if only he had controlled the portal better then Amity wouldn't have become so contaminated that the Acts now work on them too it was all his fault . If only he had protected them better then he could not have had to pull the city to the realm for its own protection . But he doesn't know how .

Then he sees it . A note as green as everything out the window . Must be Clockwork . But should he answer amity may not survive with him gone but maybe he has a solution for this , he can only bribe his time may as well check who knows maybe it's gonna be a miracle and get out relatively unsracht like he always does /he prays to whathever can help that his luck does not run out now/ .

__________________

Clockwork is an old ghost , ancient even by the Ghost Zone standards and that says something . He has seen many many timelines this one whoever is a little unique .

He can see what would happen if Danny lost Amity how he would become either a cold and uncaring king to scared to make connections whit anyone and anything or a king obsessed whit protecting them all even from themselves it would be no different that being under Patrian again or being in a prison whit no freedom . It would not be good for anyone . But he can see a third option , an option in which Amity survives in a new world , different yet similar . Yes it can work and Danny would flourish under guidance of another good ruler . If things go to as they should he would become the king he was always supposed to be a Protector , a Bringer of Peace , a Balance .

He needs to make preparations and as luck would have it a deal has been made before , a deal he can cash in now . After all it would make it easierto move in if that universe guardian know you aren't a treat .

But first he needs to inform Danny .

[joyouslee]

mlc xianxia au

Click the link to go to the weibo post with the full picture. It is delicious!!!

[wool-string]

Previous part to this: here

[fauvester]

THE NICHOLAS BIDDLE CODING OF XIE LIAN..

[potatomountain]

Okie dokie! Here is that snippet ;D

Captured prince Yeo x tainted princess- gladiator au type deal 😏 [no idea for a name yet-]

Either one really long one shot or gunna be a few parts, haven't decided.

Also inspired by the gif below <3

[betterto-die-thanto-crawl]

Some Alternate Universe Angst for @w-o-r-d-s--f-a-i-l

Peter tried to fly, knowing it was his best bet against these new inhabitants of Neverland. He could never match them in strength alone. He was too small and too caught off guard by their diverse ways of fighting... Sure, some of the pirates had used axes, but never like this! And he'd nearlt been hit by a shield hard enough to leave him winded and nearly stunned several times already. To fly and be light, to dip in and out and try to catch them unawares was all he thought might could even possibly get him out alive. He had been successful thus far, distracting berserkers enough that pirates or lost boys could bat them away, and perhaps his cockiness had gotten to his head, even through the violent terror that shook him to his core because he was actually fighting to survive, but what ever it was, he didn't notice the warrior in the trees as thet nocked an arrow and aimed precisely, before firing and hitting their mark... him. He gave a gasp of pain and surprise, looking at the wound for a moment with a horrified look as he immediately began to fall. He landed with a painful thud that knocked the wind out of him as badly as any of the vikings' shields, and when he tried to sit up, he was dazed, but he managed it, even managing somehow to push himself to his feet as he held pressure on the entry wound. He couldn't fight like this. He couldn't fly like this. As much as he hated it, his only option was to flee, so he turned and did his best to hurry away, even as he was hindered by his pain. James... where was James? He had to find James. He turned back and found him instantly across the clearing and through the battle, and somehow, as if their joined souls meant they could communicate with just a thought, the pirate dispatched the berserker he was fighting and looked up to see Peter's terrified and pained expression, and then to see as he was grabbed from behind by a pair of warriors. "James!" The cry was bloodcurdling, but the battle separated them, and the struggle caused him to lose sight of James in the chaos. Peter struggled as best as he could, doing anything he could to free his arms while kicking wildly and even trying to bite at his captors. One of the warriors hit him hard on the back of the head with the hilt of a knife he had drawn from his belt, but the Prince of Runaways managed to fight against his attempts, even as something hot and wet and sticky began to creep down the back of his head. One of them began to try and tie his hands behind his back, but Pan wouldn't let them take him so easily. "No! No! James! Tootles! Somebody!" One of the warriors clapped a hand over his mouth to silence him, and the young man managed to bite his hand and give a vicious snarl before getting a hard blow to the face and one to the gut that left him winded and dazed, but he managed to struggle on, even if now his attempts were far weaker and useless. Perhaps it was the fairy magic that let him keep struggling against such insurmountable odds, against such brutish warriors and in spite of his injured, but it could only last so long until one of the vikings gave a growl of frustration and pressed a hand hard over his nose and mouth, holding them both closed, until the young man went limp in his arms. Pan was caught.

(not my best, maybe... rather rushed... but still nice and angsty... 😈)

[hoshigray]

Heyyy. Can I request a college au. Reader is an average, socially awkward person but somehow managed to pulled the campus heartthrob, Geto (or gojo). And he's lowkey obsessed with her and try to be fucking her every chance he gets.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why not both? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk, felt like doing a threesome for some reason lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting - sex in public places; gymnasium locker room + dining hall + college dorms - oral (m! + f! receiving) - face + throat-fucking - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping, grinding and licking/sucking) - face-sitting - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - anal fingering (f! receiving) - kissing/making out - protected sex (psa: warp it up or get tf up) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetie, sweetheart) - sato + sugu being whipped over you, hehe~ - slight humor - mention of tears and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k (pretty long for a req, lol)

“Oh, Y/n, it’s good to see you. Did you have a good weekend? Let’s walk each other to class; I was waiting for you.”

“Y/nnnn! This cold day is so much warmer now that you’re here. Let’s grab something to eat at the dining hall, okay?”

You thought college life couldn’t get any more difficult than it already is. Oh, how you were so wrong… 

Being on your own on campus was hard enough; states away from your family and having to rely on and take care of yourself while also striving for a better education. On top of this, making friends (outside of your roommates Shoko and Utahime) is such a social and excruciating chore as it’s challenging to put yourself out for people to notice you. Making small talk with your peers or talking/discussing group material in classes has your heart racing enough – not to mention trying to commit to clubs – making you feel a bit of a failure as a human being.

With that, you almost dwell on not trying at all. You’re utterly content with your inner circle with your roommates, waking up and heading to classes and back, eating college food, and sleeping after reading for a lecture. This routine of sticking to yourself was a notion you’ve grown to accept and find comfort in — no need to change it if it’s been doing you well this far.

That is until you meet them — Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, the best friends of your roommate Shoko. 

Gojo is the star player of the school’s basketball team, a famous face among the class years, and the “disgustingly tactless, cutesy prince” of your year, as described by Utahime. By morning, he’s a dedicated student in his business administration major and history minor classes; by afternoon, he is his playful, social, and charismatic snow-haired soul, grabbing the attention of others and bringing life to those around him with his bright cadence. In addition, he’s a talented figure, capturing the hearts of many with his model work in fashion shows and playing fan-favorite roles in plays.

In contrast, Geto was a much more mellow star that pulled the hearts of students and professors alike. The raven-haired bioengineering major was a boy whose presence was easy not to notice yet quick to pull you in when making himself known. His tall, docile figure emitted an aura that accompanied the soothing tune of his voice, the perfect combination that made him trustworthy and obliging to the students around him and his lacrosse teammates. With the charming features of a heartthrob and the alluring speech of a leader, he’s someone many would turn to in search of a person to follow and praise.

Satoru and Suguru, two complete opposites – two best friends – who are, without a doubt, the twin stars of this school. However, there was one thing the two shared in common, something that made your heart skip and your mind race every time knowing this fact: the two were unmistakably and sickeningly in love with you!

How? You do not know. It all started when Shoko brought them over one night for dinner, and you saw them for a quick moment in the kitchen, quickly greeting them before rushing back into your room. Next thing you knew, you had begun to see and run into them every so often, which soon turned to at least once per day. And now, like a white bubbly puppy and a black, quietly affectionate cat, you could not shake them off you when and wherever you went.

Oh, it was something you were not used to, being sneaked up from behind by Gojo, who’d pull you in for a hug or lift you with every greeting in public (as if you weighed like nothing)! Especially in classes where Geto would surprise you with his calm voice and a warm hand on your shoulder to check if you were okay before claiming the chair next to you. And you couldn’t push them away — how could you when two of the most renowned faces on school grounds want to be around your presence!? Good Lord, it was all overwhelming, Shoko and Utahime having to step in to beat the boys into shape for making you uncomfortable.

And then there are those times when the two would butt heads with each other because of you! There have been a handful of times where if one had you to themselves, the other would bore glares to the former’s skull. Gojo would suck his teeth with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, white brows furrowed and ticked off blue eyes concealed by his dark circle shades. “Yo, Buddha with bangs, can you let go? Y/n promised to hang with me after their classes ended, and I’d be damned if you’d be third-wheeling.”

“That’s not happening, Satoru,” Geto’s hand grasps yours with more grip, royal purple eyes narrowed at his white-haired friend. “Y/n and I have a presentation to work on for tomorrow. Go lollygag somewhere else.”

Two positive bundles of life will immediately turn hostile when it comes to you, suffocating your very being as you’re stuck in the middle of them. It’s bad enough being with either of them has people notice and talk about you; it’s another thing when you’re being fought over like some small bunny between two snarling wolves. Oh God, why me!!??

But it wasn’t all bad. If anything, being fawned over by the two was a strange thing that has happened to you thus far, and not in a terrible way. Gojo has made you a lot more open and social than before, dragging you to parties he’s been invited to and to his crowded games (where he’s always sure to find you and blow a kiss). And spending time with Geto has sparked instances where you’re courageous enough to speak for yourself with a bit of a push from him, throwing in your inputs for class discussions or having him aid you in knowing your material when you two study together.

The two most popular guys in school who flatter and are obsequious over you. That in itself is enough to make your cheeks and ears dial in warmth, shielding your face in your pillows just thinking about them. You like them both, bound to be drawn in by the handsome boys and their pursuit of you.

However, their infatuation was something you’d find out goes beyond words and handholds. An obsession for you embroidered in their very minds…and bodies.

“…Mhahhh, Go—Mmmph! Gojooo…we shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Aww, c’mon, Y/n, you know I don’t like it when you call me by last name. It’s just the two of us here…Fuck, keep licking it like that…”

Sneaking into the basketball team’s locker room is one thing; sneaking in with the star player in the team with you between his legs on the bench and sucking his dick? Oh, that’s a can of worms you never thought you’d open in your entire life. 

Gojo brings his head back, banging on the locker behind him as the contact of your tongue on his pink tip sends shivers up to his shoulders. “Fuuuck, you feel so good, baby. Gonna make me cum again…” You peer up with lidded eyes as you suck his tip into your mouth, him humming at the warm sensation of your mouth swallowing his length whole. Your face is hot of embarrassment, being looked down on by him as you do such an indecent thing on him in a place of changing for men. 

This was his idea – bringing you to the gymnasium to watch him practice with his teammates for an upcoming game. Then, he pulls you aside once the guys want another fifteen-minute water break, bargaining into the men’s locker room and pulling you in for a hot kiss. Sucking on and nibbling on your lips and tongue has you mewl sweetly for him, distracted as he pulls his shorts and briefs down to expose the erection growing inside him. “Sorry, you just looked too cute watching me from the side,” he’d say with a hazy glint in his eyes shielded by his shades.

So here you are, sucking him off to the hilt, where your lips meet strands of his white pubes, making your boyfriend cum for the second time. Gojo brings a hand to your head for purchase, moaning as your hand massages his balls. “—Ahh, fuck…God, you’ve gotten so good at that, cutie. Can’t get enough of you...”

His words burn your ears, his aroused tone making your face even more hot to bear. Gosh, this was such a dangerous game; your nerves constantly on edge in hopes nobody would walk in.

However, your worries might have been what jinxed your fate because you two heard the door to the locker room open. You instantly move your mouth away from Gojo’s cock and stand to panic. But before you could, Gojo quickly grabbed you by the wrist and took you to one of the bathroom stalls. You sat on the toilet, bewildered at being dragged all over this fitness center. Then, Gojo brings his dick to your face again, and you give him the most shockingly confused expression as if he can’t hear the commotion of two people speaking where they used to be.

“Relax, no one’s coming here,” Liar, we almost got caught! He pushes the tip to your mouth, and you murmur on his length, filling your mouth and throat. “Let’s make this one quick, okay?”

You were too busy registering him place his hands on your head before he could slam himself to your mouth; the sudden thrust of his hips propelling his cock deep into the tight crevices of your throat makes you grip onto his shorts for dear life. The slap of his ruts fills your eardrums; you can’t tell how far or close the two guys who entered the locker room are. He’s making you focus on nothing but him — a selfish objection from a selfish man as he’s using you to relieve himself in the men’s locker room. God, this was such a bad situation, and yet your lower half couldn’t stop the throbs that have you shifting your thighs together. How embarrassing! 

“Hhnnn, fucking shit, your throat feels so good,”  he praises, his slender fingers massaging your scalp. Your tongue brushes the underside of his length in a way that has his pace go faster, and he has to keep his moans to a lower volume. “Shiiit, baby, I’m gonna cum…Take it all in…!”

You have no choice but to, forced to gulp down all of his load that he spills into your tight, warm throat. He still rocks his pelvis into you until every pump of his jizz is inside you. When your ears pick up the sound of the locker room door opening and closing with the dismissal of the two strangers, that’s when Gojo takes his long shaft out of your mouth, spit connecting from your tongue to his cockhead is wiped with haste. 

But then, Gojo pokes your cheek with his tip, a sign that he wants to go again. You throw quiet pleas, “N–No, Gojo! You have to get back to practice—“

“Shhh, those guys can survive a few games without me. And besides,” he gently slaps your cheek with his cock. How vulgar! “I’ll fuck your mouth til the end of the day if you don’t stop using my last name when it’s just the two of us here.” The playful grin on his lips doesn’t make that threat any better. “One more time, please?”

With hesitant eyes, you place kisses on his shaft while stroking him. “Only one more…okay, Satoru?”

He beams with the dimples of his cheeks. “Yes, pretty girl~.”

And it doesn’t stop there — because Geto is no better. 

“Aww, you two are so cute together~”

You squirm on the booth seat you’re sharing with your other boyfriend, you two sitting across from his friends — a senior couple he shares a lab with that invited him for dinner. Unsurprisingly, you were his plus one, knowing you’re not one for being around people you’re not familiar with. And yet here you are, caged by the wall and Geto’s frame to keep you in this conversation on the side of the busy dining hall.

Geto chuckles before brushing your cheek, "Aren’t we? But they’re the cutest thing to me.” He says as he places a swift kiss on your cheek; it’s an action that has your face grow in warmth — and the couple “awwing” at his affection.

The guy of the couple speaks to the dark, long-haired other. “I never knew you were one for relationships, Geto; you seem so busy with Bio and your clubs that you don’t seem to have time to lay low and be with someone.”

“Mmm, I thought so, too. That is until I met Y/n through a friend of mine,” you jerk at the silent touch of his pinkie grazing your thigh, noting it had sneaked under your skirt to graze its skin. Your eyes peek in his direction, finding that he remains eye contact with the guy he’s talking with. “And, you know, I got to know them here and there, shared some classes with them on the side. Now, I just can’t imagine them being out of my line of sight.”

The guy across laughs. “Sounds kinda obsessive!”

Geto shrugs with a chortle. “I guess it’s like that, I don’t know. I’m just really crazy about them; they’re my sweetheart after all.”

“That’s so sweet!” The girl senior across exclaims, turning to you to ask, “So, how long have you and Geto been a thing, Y/n?”

The question has you stumped for a bit as you weren’t ready to be thrown inquiries. And before you answer, you feel Geto’s hand rub on your thigh. “U-Umm, me—ahem—Geto and I have been a couple for quite a while now? My roommate was the one who introduced me to him—Mmmm!” You briskly flatten your lips at your squeak because the fingers inside your skirt pinch your skin. On command, you spread your legs for Geto to insert his hand inside your panties.

The girl asks more questions. “Oh? So, your roommate brought you two together. Did you know of them before?” 

“Well, not really…She and Geto—Ohh!” You bring your hand to your lips at the graze of Geto’s forefinger on your clit. You turn to him and are immediately locked into his violet gaze. He lifts a brow with an undisturbed smile, and you gulp. “I–I mean, Suguru and my roommate have been best friends since high school, so I kinda got…Nnmm,” you chew your lips when he bullies a digit between your folds to play and tease. “She was the one who introduced me to him…”

“Is that so? Hehe, it’s amazing how the world works, huh?” You listen, but your mind is too focused on Geto’s digits swiping and nestling across your wetness to have your body more excited about his touch. And it gets worse as he inserts his forefinger inside your vagina, causing you to jolt and suppress your mewl by leaning into his shoulder, gripping onto the sleeve of his turtleneck. “Here are two lovebirds all lovey-dovey with each other thanks to one friend bringing them together. It’s crazy imagining you two would’ve never met hadn’t that happened.”

Geto hums at that comment, “I agree; I have to thank Shoko for bringing this little angel to my arms.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead, completely nonchalant compared to the quickened pace of the digit scraping your insides. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

With trenched brows and a shaky breath, you try to reply to the awaiting couple. “Mhmm, yes, I’m so grateful that Suguru is in my life…He’s been such a help to me,” his forefinger goes slow, having you feel every dent and knuckle. “Hahhh, he’s so good to me, and I love him just as mu—Mmmph!!”

“Hmm? Are you okay, Y/n?” How can you tell the guy across from you that your boyfriend’s thumb just surprised your clit with a swipe?  You’d rather melt on this floor had you not buried your face into Geto’s shoulder. 

Speaking of who, he takes the initiative to answer for you. “I think they’re a little parched, must’ve been this lemonade I got for them. I’ll go get them some water—“

“Oh, no, no! I’ll go get the water; I was gonna get more of those garlic knots anyways.” The girl stops Geto from moving, sliding from the booth seat with her boyfriend’s hand to follow suit. “C’mon, let’s leave these lovebirds for a bit. We’ll be right back!”

And so they leave, thanking your lucky stars. Once their figures are nowhere to be seen within the sea of students, you probe the man with a trembling whimper. “Mmmph, Suguru, please, take it out before—Ahhh…! They come back…”

Luckily, he listens to your request with no argument, withdrawing his digit from your wet slick and underwear. And to your horror, he brings the finger to lick and suck and says with a dark look, “Just checking to see what I’ll be having later.”

It doesn’t matter wherever or whenever; Gojo and Geto will be sure that their love for you is expressed to you every chance they get. 

It doesn’t matter the day or hour, whether you are free from assignments, spending time with your roommates, or on your way out to study; those two will find a way to get to be with you. And, to be honest, it can be a bit overstimulating! 

When there are dates to the movies with Gojo, there’s private alone time with Geto on his bed as he eats you out. And when there are days when Geto holds hands with you and walks you to your classes, there are nights when Gojo will fuck you til his cock is warmed inside you in his slumber. It can go either way, the two competing for your affection and time when the other is out of sight. 

Again, sometimes it’s overwhelming for you, never knowing which of the two will have you all to themselves, nor knowing when you can have time to yourself! And it’s not like you haven’t tried putting your foot down to express your wish to be alone. But, albeit it can be utterly exhausting, you know those two love and cherish you so much that it drives them crazy. Hell, it’s driving you crazy just how much they can’t keep their hands off you! 

Especially now when they drag you to their shared dorm room, experiencing one of those days when the two wish to have you in the same presence. 

“Hahhh, damn, Y/n…you’re sucking me off so good,” Geto purrs with a whistle while lovingly patting your head. “So good for me, huh, sweetie?” 

The two stripped you off your clothes to be nude with them on the bed. Your naked frame straddles above Gojo, lying on his back with his face buried into your bare cunt for his mouth and tongue to please you orally. Meanwhile, you suck on Geto’s girth as he leans on the pillows and headboard. It’s his turn after sucking off Gojo (they settled this over rock-paper-scissors) and fingering you to warm you up first.

You whine of his member, Gojo’s tongue doing wonders on your delicate body. He licks on your clit just as you lap yours around Geto’s glans, and then he’ll suck your pearl right as you take in the tip with pursed cheeks. It’s such a mutual shared experience, with how Gojo’s hands wrap to your thighs to keep your chasm on his lips while you have Geto keen to your mouth and hands stroking him. 

“—Khhhh, Jesus Christ…Hohhh, right there, sweetie…” The raven-haired one coos as you kiss your way down to his balls to suck one as you continue to jerk him. “Heh, you doing good down there, Satoru?”

The snow-haired other removes his mouth from your folds, licking your essence that sticks to his lips like honey mixed with his saliva. “Hahaa, you have no idea. I could stay like this for hours,” his tongue licks your come to your clit tantalizingly slow, evoking you to almost choke on Geto’s girth. “Aww, look at you trying to move from me,” Gojo brings your hips back down to him for him to swirl around your labia, his grip on your thighs refusing to submit. “Don’t go anywhere, princess; I’m not finished until you cum on my face again.”

“Ohhh, shit, keep doing what you’re doing, Satoru,” Geto subtly bucks his hips, “I love the way they’re whining on my dick…”

With your puffy lips being busy in the front and your cunt being lapped and nibbled on from below, your senses are clouded by the two boys who seek nothing but your participation in experiencing pleasure. Your head gradually turns into mush with every rut to your throat and every lap around your clitoris. It’s to no surprise that your release seeps out of your body without preparation, crying on Geto’s length as your frame quivers in euphoric bliss. 

And if you think you couldn’t get swamped enough, think again. 

“—Nnngh, fuck, Y/n, you’re gripping on my dick like crazy…Hehe, is it because you can’t look me in the face? Damn, you’re such a cutie…”

Your face is nuzzled in the crook of Gojo’s neck as you’re straddling on top of him, your nude, sweaty bodies melted together to share heat. Your hips bounce up and down on his pelvis, where his rubber-covered length is scraping the walls of your vagina. His left curve grazes and jabs your sweet spots, and your body lies on top of Gojo, which brings more friction to your clitoris. 

“Hahhh, ahhnn—Ohhhh!” Your phrases have doubled down to that of whimpers of pleasure, thinking straight is impossible, and your mind is too deep in a haze to focus on anything outside of what’s happening. And it’s not like you can’t stop your hips from bouncing on his shaft — you’ve tried! But the moment your legs express so much as reluctance or fatigue, Gojo’s hands are right there on your ass to guide you back into the rhythm. So it’s expected when you climax on him once more, clamping onto him as you ride out another orgasmic wave. “Ahhaaa! Sa’toruuu, stooohhp—hic…! I’m ‘oo sens' tiveee!!” 

“You say that, but—hnnn! You’re rocking those hips of yours on your own, baby.” He chuckles at your slurred speech, placing kisses on your cheek as his hands massage your asscheeks. “Holy shit, you feel so unreal; wanna fuck you raw so bad with how tight you are.” 

“Don’t even think about it, Satoru,” you hear Geto’s voice from behind, the dent of the twin-size bed shifting with his added weight. “If I can’t go condom-less, you’re not getting any special treatment out of it either.”

“Psssh, yeah, yeah,” Gojo says with rolled azure eyes before he whispers to your ear. “Come on, angel, let’s get you prepped up.” The white-haired boy’s hands spread your butt, exposing his dick buried deep into your tight slit and your taint.  

Geto grins salaciously. “My, what a dirty sight for me, my love.” You chew your lips to his words, the heat in your ears causing them to ring. You then feel his fingers smothered in lube to meet your asshole, spiraling around it before inserting them one by one. Your holes instinctively contract, making Gojo hiss. “Relax, pretty girl,” he kisses your temple. “We’re gonna make you feel so good.”

You remind your figure to calm down, allowing Geto to play with your anus for it to accommodate the next foreign limb he’ll put inside. Gojo keeps kneading your butt, but he throws furtive thrusts up to your chasm to keep you on your toes. You gasp when Geto removes his digits suddenly, and now you bite your bottom lip at the contact of his cockhead touching your puckered entrance. “Stay calm for me, princess. Gonna go slow just for you…”

Breathing with your mouth is the only way you can function through his insertion; even after he properly lubed himself and the rubber, it never fails to amaze you how you’ve been able to take in his girthy dick times before. Every inch pushed inside you feels as if your breath is pulled away, feeling both your holes become occupied. And your head goes up at the snap of Geto’s pelvis smacking on your ass, mouth agape for drool to sneak down puffy lips. 

“Heh, there you are,” Gojo licks your spit before placing a kiss on your lips. “What a pretty face when you’re going dumb on our dicks, Y/n.”

You couldn’t even reply in modesty because Geto immediately goes pounding your ass with hunger. Your wails come out freely at the pacing of both boys propelling themselves into you. And it doesn’t help that your holes don’t stop contracting on their dicks as they push, the motion making you move your clit against Gojo and having your sore nerves active again. 

“Holy fuck,”Geto drills his cock into your taint, grinding his hips into you to make you whine aloud. He then bends to kiss your sweaty shoulder down to your spine. “You’re so tight, Y/n…like you’re gonna milk me dry.”

Words are exhilarated squeaks and shrills, your arms coming around Gojo’s neck and pressing your hot cheek on his. He snickers at how touchy you are, “Hey, baby,” he coaxes you through the onslaught of ruts that quicken in tempo. “God, you sound so fucking cute, angel…” 

“—Ahhahh…! Ohhh, guysss, pleaseee, slow d—Owwhhnn!!” You cry, eyes watering with the pokes and jabs on your velvety insides, the curve of Gojo scraping you in places you can’t reach, and Geto’s girth having your backside completely stretched for him. It’s all too much to focus on as your delicate bud is pressed on by your weight. “…Nhooo, God, I’m gonna—“

“Gonna cum, cutie?” You nod hurriedly, amusing Gojo for more chuckles. “Let’s cum together, yeah? Such a pretty girl…” And then, Gojo claims your lips for a steamy, passionate kiss, bringing a hand from your bottom to place behind your head to keep you on him. 

“—Hnngh!! Wait, sweetheart, don’t clamp onto me so sudden—Ohh, shit, shit, shiiit,” Black hair strands fall from Geto’s shoulders as he falters at your grip. “Gonna cum, too….Gahhh—“

Your crescendo is the first to appear, howling and mewling into Gojo’s lips while your trembling figure undergoes the shocks of the deep penetration on both ends. The fluttering sensations of your cunt and anus are what prompt the two men to spill their load into you simultaneously, groaning with pleasure from your body. Your head is undoubtedly dizzy, your brain spiraling with impulses as your frame jerks with every wave of your orgasm. 

After his climax is done, Geto slowly withdraws his cock from you. The condom filled with his essence. “Phew, that felt way too good.”

“For real, can’t get enough of this.” Gojo sighs while groping your asscheeks and kissing your forehead. “Ready for another round, baby? C’mon, let’s switch before Suguru gets all crybaby on us.” His sweet tone immediately flips to narrow his eyes at Geto for throwing his used, tied condom at Gojo's face for that comment. “Oh, you disgusting son of a bitch…”

“Shut up and switch, or else I’ll have you watch me pound Y/n for fifteen minutes.”

Being loved and obsessed by the two heartthrobs of the school is no easy work, which is evident when you can’t even get to nap by yourself after the sexual activities. With Gojo spooning Geto while he spoons you, there is no rest with these two; they might as well put collars around their necks and give you their leashes with how smitten they are to be around you.

Yet, at the same time, you don’t hate it — far from that. Because you know their feelings for you are genuine, you can see it in their sleeping faces as they’re probably thinking about you in your dreams as you observe. With a smile, you place kisses on their cheeks and silently leave the bed to use their shower. 

The warm water is just as welcoming and temperate as their love, keeping you safe and washing your anxiousness away. In your thoughts, you reflect on all the times you’ve grown because of them, and it goes to show that their involvement has done substantial help for you. And for that, you are forever grateful for them and will always reciprocate their feelings as you feel the same. 

“Hey, Y/n.”

Well, minus the immediate sense of apprehension that skyrockets once you hear Geto’s voice come behind you. You turn to see his naked self coming towards you to wrap his arms around your waist. “Suguru!? I–I thought you were sleep—“

“I was until you left my arms,” he says to your ear with his dulcet voice, his hands kneading the flesh of your wet hips. “Besides, saves us a lot of time if we share the shower, right?”

“Oh, Y/n~,” another voice enters the bathroom, and your dread plummets even further when Gojo opens the curtains with glee. “Don’t tell me you decided to shower without m—…Oh, you’re here, too.”

“Obviously,” Geto sucks his teeth at his roommate. “I live in this apartment and use this same shower, dumbass.”

Snowy eyebrows crease with irritation as Gojo enters the walk-in shower, sandwiching you between the two. “Well, don’t you think it’s rude for you to use the shower when our guest is using it first?”

“I could be asking you the same thing because who told you to come here?”

“Duh! I’m here to shower with my lover; are you stupid?”

“Are you? Don’t you see a boyfriend is trying to have some alone time with their partner?”

“Oh, eat horse shit.”

“Croak and die.”

You can only stand there and be mushed by the two tall boys arguing over you, unable to flee the scene as they both have their hands on you. Again, you don’t hate it at all. You love them just as much as they love and adore you. They may be the school favorites; however, you are the most precious thing they wish to engage with and want to keep to themselves.

…But would it kill them to give you some room once in a while!?

Jesus, how am I gonna survive with these two…

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[nateezfics]

you know what I can't stop thinking about? arranged marriage au with prince! ateez. in smut form..

idk if you're taking any requests but.. just an idea I guess haha😌

ARRANGED MARRIAGE WITH PRINCE ATEEZ

PAIRING — ateez x reader

GENRE — romance, smut, prince/royalty au, prince!ateez, princess!reader, arranged marriage au, spouse!ateez, strangers to spouses to lovers, fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!ateez

WARNINGS — smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink (cuz ya know, gotta get that heir), possessive sex, first time sex/taking of virginity, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, sexual language//dirty talk

WORD COUNT — 6.2k

SUMMARY — you are a princess, and you’ve been wedded to a prince in an arranged marriage. naturally, it is expected for you and your now husband to be fruitful and produce an heir. it’s your duty, but you find yourself in the arms of your prince for reasons beyond just legal obligation. simplified summary: your first time with the prince you were forced to marry.

HONGJOONG

the books against your back were jagged and painful, but the discomfort did little to counter the pleasure you felt as a hard cock filled you yet again. you moaned and clawed at his strong back, the muscles flexing under your touch. there was a grunt in your ear when your nails dug in deep. his own hands held your hips, keeping you suspended against the large bookshelf.

hot breath against your neck made you shudder, and the teeth that sank into your skin a second later had you hissing in both pleasure and pain. “you’re awfully tight around me. are you close, hm?”

you watched as hongjoong lifted his head to face you. your eyes locked, and you’d never seen him look so intense. you squirmed under his gaze, but your movement was limited in his hold. your breath caught when his hand circled around your jaw; you had no other choice but to keep your sight focused on him.

hongjoong smirked. there was a wild gleam in his dark eyes, one you’d never witnessed before. since marrying prince hongjoong all those months ago, you’d only ever seen him calm, collected, and poised. he was a dutiful prince, dedicated to the crown and to his kingdom. he was polite, but cold, only ever really offering you attention at official events. you were beginning to believe he hated you, up until this evening. a particular duke had shown you a decent amount of interest at the ball, far too much for hongjoong’s liking. things escalated, and soon you found yourself stripped of your gown and thrown against the shelf within his study.

and there was no doubting the way your prince felt about you now.

hongjoong’s hips thrusted upwards repeatedly, and you began to unravel bit by bit within his arms. his eyes bore into yours, watching your face contort in pleasure. “you are my wife. do you understand?”

you barely managed a nod. you pulled at his back as you tried to anchor yourself to him like a lifeline. “y-yes.”

his lips captured yours in a languid, sloppy kiss. “mine, all mine. and i will dedicate as much time as i need to reminding you of this, so you will never forget it.”

hongjoong claimed you against his bookshelf repeatedly, over and over, until the sound of his name was the only sound to be heard within the expanse of his study. and with the marks that littered your skin, there was no way you could ever forget you were his.

SEONGHWA

“does this please you?”

your vision was hazy as you peered down the length of your body. a handsome face was nestled between your thighs, your arousal dripping down his chin while his eyes watched you closely. you nodded slowly, like it was a struggle for you to even comprehend what he was saying. “yes,” you breathed, “it does. very much. please, keep going.”

seonghwa smiled just before returning his attention to your pretty pussy. his tongue swirled over your bud and your body responded in kind, back arching and your fingers tangling in his dark strands. he was encouraged by the sounds you made, those pretty little whimpers and cries that had him stiffening in his trousers. he was eager to fuck you, to claim you properly as his wife, but he delayed his own pleasure just to taste your release on his tongue.

you came with a rush, pleasure surging in your body and offering you an experience you’d never had before. you shook under the weight of your orgasm, and seonghwa was there to guide you through it with soft caresses against your thighs. the look he gave you while he climbed over your body was one that made you feel so many things. it was a genuine surprise that your relationship with your arranged husband had grown into this; you had feared you’d fall into a loveless marriage like so many others. you’d never been so happy to be proven wrong.

seonghwa rid himself of the rest of his garments. his hard cock brushed your inner thigh, and you gasped at the feeling. he kissed down your jaw as he started to align himself at your entrance. “i’ll keep making you feel good,” he spoke. “i’ll fuck you with my cock, fuck you full of my cum and claim you completely. watch my seed make a home out of your womb. would you like that?”

you wanted nothing more. your legs wrapped around his waist and urged him forward. he obliged you, slipping himself into your tight heat. he allowed you time to adjust before rocking his hips into you over and over. and when the time came, you begged for his seed, begged for him to claim you like he’d promised he would.

YUNHO

when you were delivered the news that you’d been betrothed to a prince, you were afraid. afraid of a loveless marriage, of a marriage bound by duty. you feared that as the wife of a crown prince, your entire future would be rooted in stone. you were anxious your new husband would be someone you couldn’t even muster up the ability to tolerate. and when you thought of the wedding night, of performing your marital duties, you felt nerves, disgust, uncertainty.

but prince yunho surprised you in every way. he was kind, gentle, respectful, and beyond beautiful. you weren’t expecting it, but falling into his arms the night of your wedding came naturally to you. there were no nerves or disgust like you’d once feared. you felt at ease by his presence, and even after he offered you a way out of this, even when he gave you a choice, you still desired to go through with it.

yunho’s large frame hovered over you, enveloping you within his presence. his scent was all around you. his hips glided forward, plunging his cock deep inside you until you felt impossibly full. he chuckled at the way you whimpered, adoring the sight of your eyes rolling at the surge of pleasure. his hand cupped the side of your face, your skin hot to the touch. “you are beautiful,” he spoke softly, almost reverently. “i never expected to be graced with such a beautiful wife and princess.”

you felt bashful under his attention. you hid your face in his hand, earning yourself another giggle from the prince above. he urged you to face him again, and you were overwhelmed by both the pleasure he gave you and the stunning sight of his smile.

“don’t be so shy. i am your husband, after all.” yunho retracted his hips before snapping them into you again. you both groaned at the bliss. his soft smile morphed into a smirk. “and i am filling you to the brim with my cock. so, tell me, how badly do you desire me?”

you breathed in, and out, and over again while you reveled in the way he filled you up so full. long gone was the discomfort; your cunt now took him in completely, eager for him to take you. “please,” you whimpered as you lifted your hips to urge him for more. “take me. claim me. i need you so desperately.”

yunho gave you more than you ever could’ve asked for, pleasuring you so well until you had your fill. and with each thrust, the fears you once had slipped away, replaced with pleasure and admiration and a hope for the future.

YEOSANG

“ah! j-just like that. fuck, just like that.” yeosang watched with awe as you took him in full. the head of his cock grazed the back of your throat and he thought he could’ve seen stars. his hand was full of your hair, steadying your pace as you bobbed your head up and down.

the two of you had been avoiding each other since your wedding. things were…awkward, to say the least. neither of you were very outgoing, and didn’t exactly know how to interact. you were married, but were practically strangers. even after all of his royal training as a prince, yeosang was clueless how to engage with you. he was always destined to be in an arranged marriage, and he always knew he was expected to produce an heir….but no one offered him any insight on what to do beyond that. it wasn’t until his closest friend at court, wooyoung, practically locked the two of you in a room together did he finally muster up the courage to engage with you. things were less awkward after that.

and now here you were, in his room, with his cock down your throat. things had definitely improved.

yeosang cursed when you wrapped a hand around his base. when you glanced up at him, lips stretched around his shaft, he almost came undone instantly. he pulled your mouth from him before that could happen. the shocked look on your face was almost comical. he might’ve laughed if he wasn’t so aroused. “i don’t want to cum just yet.”

you gave him an odd look. “why not?”

“i want to make you feel good, too,” he admitted. he swallowed at the way you kept eyeing his cock. “i…i would like to fuck you, if that’s alright with you.”

you both powered through the initial awkwardness at first. the unsure touches, the slow falling of clothing, the experience of being bare before each other, witnessing each other’s bodies for the first time. you both melted into each other the moment he seated himself inside you, finding your rhythm and allowing your desires to take over.

“you’re so tight. fuck, you’re so tight.” yeosang buried his cock into your heat over and over, feeling the way your walls clamped around him like a vice. he was encouraged by your sounds and the way your hands gripped at his back.

“i’m so close,” you breathed. “you’re making me feel so good, yeosang.” you held onto him tightly as you began to grow overwhelmed by your incoming orgasm.

all yeosang wanted was to make you fall apart. he’d now discovered his most favorite thing in the world, and all he could think about was making you scream his name. and you did just that as you fell apart moments later, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. he wasn’t too far behind you, releasing himself inside you and filling you to the brim.

SAN

you felt all sorts of ways about your new husband. you didn’t hate him, no. he was kind enough to you, pleasant to make conversation with and polite and courteous. your marriage to him thus far was going far better than you expected. but you didn’t love him. at least not yet. there was definitely something akin to romance between you, but it was much too new, too delicate. the one thing you knew for sure was that the sexual tension between you and the prince was thick, and made it almost unbearable to be near him. you wanted him more than anything, needed him even.

and eventually, the tension snapped.

san rolled his hips forward, seating himself as deep within you as he could go. his grip on your waist was rough, his fingers in your flesh bordering on painful. “you’ve no idea how much i’ve been wanting this, wanting you.”

you whimpered at the fullness of him. his cock stretched you out wide, and you couldn’t recall a time you’d ever felt so full. your hands gripped at the backside of his shoulders and your legs circled around his waist, your body silently begging him for more. “san, please. i need more.”

“since you asked so politely.” the sheer force of his thrust stole the breath from you, a silent cry catching in your throat. san didn’t allow you much time to collect yourself before setting up a ruthless pace. he was desperate, desperate for you. the raging desire he’d been feeling for you fueled every thrust, every plunge of his cock into your heat. you felt absolutely wondrous, so perfectly warm and wet and tight around him. “you’re so tight for me, fuck, you feel divine. and you’re taking me so well.”

the polite prince you knew him to be was a distant memory. now, all you saw above you was a man wild with desire. his words, his cock, and the sight of him were all making you feel overwhelmed, and you knew your end was near. “s-san, feels so good!”

san peered down at you with his dark eyes, a smirk stretching across his face. “yeah? are going to cum for me?” when you nodded frantically, he hiked your leg over his shoulder, driving his cock deeper into your dripping cunt. “i’m going to fill you up so full, and claim this little pussy all for myself. would you like that? want me to breed you so good, hm?”

the only answer you were able to offer him was a cry of his name as you crumbled underneath the weight of your orgasm. your own release urged the man above you to his own.

san’s hips stilled as he came, cock throbbing and filling you up with his seed. he kept himself seated inside you, not wanting a single drop to fall from your stuffed hole. “you’re so addicting,” he whispered against your skin as his mouth traveled up your neck. “and now that i’ve had you, i don’t think i’ll ever be able to get enough.”

MINGI

“look at you, so pretty like this.” the deep rasp of mingi’s voice settled on your ears and brought you back to reality. your eyes focused on his handsome face. he was already watching you, seemingly intrigued by all the faces you were making, like he wanted to commit every expression to memory. “you look beautiful underneath me, full of my fingers.”

heat simmered on your cheeks. you squirmed, both from the pleasure and his attention, and sighed as his long fingers curled inside you. his fingers grazed the sweet spot nestled deep within you, causing your back to arch.

mingi smiled. “oh? did that feel good?” his smile grew when you nodded, like he was proud of himself for making you feel this way. this was certainly a new experience for the both of you, and so intimate. you were thankful for a husband like him, someone willing to be kind and patient with you. someone who cared for your pleasure.

“feels amazing,” you breathed. you were close, and you were certain he could tell by the way your walls gripped his fingers. he kept reaching for that spot, urging you to your release. you inhaled and exhaled before deciding to speak, “mingi, i need you inside me. please.”

“i am inside you.” his fingers curled again.

you shook your head. “your cock.”

mingi swallowed hard. “are you certain?”

you melted at his concern for you. it only made you want him even more. “yes.”

mingi was nestled inside you soon after. discomfort morphed into pleasure, and you quickly became intoxicated by the fullness of his cock inside you. he fucked you slow, deep, and so absolutely perfect. you always feared what an arranged marriage would entail, but mingi made you excited; you were eager to see how this blooming relationship between you and your prince would grow.

WOOYOUNG

“i knew it.” a smug voice came from between your thighs. a warm tongue flicked over your bud, teasing you and making you yearn for more. “i knew you’d fall for me eventually.”

you rolled your eyes, both from the pleasure of his tongue on your clit and annoyance. “i have not fallen for you. do not flatter yourself.”

wooyoung chuckled and pushed your thighs further apart. he sucked on your clit, and though you tried to hide it, he heard the small whimper slip passed your lips. he smirked victoriously, even though you couldn’t see over the skirt of your gown. “mmh, she says otherwise, love.” he licked a long stripe over your folds.

you bit your lip. you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan. for the lack of a better response, all you could offer up was a firm “humph”. as annoyed as you were with your new husband, you couldn’t deny the pleasure he was offering you, nor your own attraction to him. wooyoung was loud and had a large personality; he was cocky, and very self assured. the exact opposite of you. on your wedding day, he told you that it was only a matter of time before you fell in love with him. you tried ever since to prove him wrong.

but your own lust got in the way.

“come on now, let me hear you,” wooyoung urged. he lapped and sucked your sex like a delectable meal, doing everything in his power to coax those pretty little sounds of bliss from you.

it was a losing fight. the pleasure overwhelmed you, and as your high drew in closer, there was no way you could keep silent anymore. raspy breaths and soft whimpers fell out of your mouth as you began to spiral. you reached for his hair, but he was hidden under your gown out of your grasp.

“there’s those pretty sounds, love,” wooyoung praised you. “now cum on my tongue for me. i know you want to.” encouraged by his words, you came on his face mere moments later. he eagerly lapped up every drop of you while your thighs shook around his head. he milked you of your high before emerging from under your gown with a smirk.

you watched him closely through hazy eyes as he climbed over your body.

“now, i’m going to make my pretty little wife scream on my cock.”

JONGHO

you knew since you were little you were bound for an arranged marriage, dedicated to some unknown highly titled man. you were told that you just needed to make yourself like them, whoever you married. force yourself to be happy until you tricked yourself into believing that you were. then, you ended up married to a crown prince, but to your surprise, liking your new husband came easily to you. and even crazier, falling in love with him was effortless.

it took one dance with him, one moment spent in his strong arms.

jongho held your hands above your head as he fucked into you. you were rooted in place by his strong grip, and you were happy to remain there and take every bit of pleasure he was giving you. his thrusts were powerful, and his cock was reaching so deep within you thought you could see stars. “you’re so perfect for me.”

his lips were on yours in a slow kiss, and you swallowed up his words. in exchange, you sighed against his mouth. there was so much you wanted to say, but the pleasure was too much for you to even speak.

jongho seemed to understand every moan, every cry that you made. one of his hands let loose of you to lower down between where you were joined, thumb pressing into your clit. he inhaled your moans. “i’m going to make you feel so good, princess. make you cum on my cock over and over just like you deserve.”

“y-yes,” you sighed, so close to falling over the edge. “please, yes.”

he kissed you passionately, hips remaining constant and thumb against your bud. he was like an anchor as you came undone, keeping you in his hold as you fell apart. and he didn’t stop, keeping true to his word.

AUTHOR’S NOTES — this wip was the most voted for on the poll, so here it is! this request has been sitting in my inbox for so long🫣 i’m sorry! i hope you enjoyed this!!

i’ve opened up a ko-fi shop! link to it is on the pinned post on my blog. if you enjoyed this, or enjoy any of my work, a donation would be very appreciated! of course, a reblog and nice words would be just as meaningful💕

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[stupidneko]

The silly Malleyuu au I was talking about,,

Resume:

The fae Prince has been captured by the human king, yet he shortly manages to escape. Unfortunately his wounds were quite heavy since they weren't made by simple human weapons.

The young lady who fled away from home cause her parents wanted to marry her off. Has a weak personality yet on impulse she can be quite the trouble maker, she didn't wish to marry in the first place, especially with the young priest who happens to be a mean childhood acquaintance.

As she managed to flee quite far with the help of stolen goods from her home, she ended up living in a small abandoned cottage(which is actually between the Briar Valley and human Kingdom territory).

Yet as the days passed she one day woke up with a stranger trespassing her home! The unknown man almost killed her on the spot yet due his dire injuries he fell unconscious before he could strike.

What shall she do ?! All I can say is that they somehow end up living together for a while lol

[izzy-draws05]

Since @aerequets posted her Avatar x Family sketches, the idea seems to be really popular!! So I wanted to share my sketches and ideas I had!

-The AU would probably follow ATLA’s story mostly. Season 1, Yor begins to look for the Avatar and spends most of it believing Loid is the avatar. He stresses himself out trying to keep that up, while Anya is very hyped to learn all the different elements.

-Yor would probably join them a little bit into Season 2, after she learns Anya is the avatar. I don’t know exactly how it would go, but she’d make the choice to help and decide to help end the war.

-Instead of Sky Bisons, the air nomads had Sky dogs! This is only so Bond can be Appa 😅

-WISE is the White Lotus, since they’re both organizations that fight for peace! Still debating on whether or not Loid joins them before the story begins, or if he’s been the Southern Water Tribe his whole life, similar to Katara. Handler would be the leader of this group.

-Franky is a non bender, but a genius inventor from the Earth Kingdom. I’d consider him part of Team Avatar here!

-Damian is the prince of the Fire Nation. He sees his father wants to capture the Avatar, and in his 6 year old brain, he thinks “If I do that, I’ll get his attention!” So he sets out to find the Avatar, and no adult stops him, because he’s the Prince and outranks everybody.

-Becky is the Earth Bender princess of the Earth Kingdom. Martha is her bodyguard. She and Anya still become besties!

-Yuri is in the Fire Nation equivalent of the SSS.

-Henry Henderson is a master water bender from the Northern Tribe. Maybe he ends up teaching Loid, who can then go on to teach Anya.

If anyone has other ideas for other characters, feel free to share them! I was kind of blown away by the response to aerequest’s comic, thank you for your interest in my silly AU! And here are some more sketches!