#male wife x girlboss

[phxntxm-uszr]

Malewife x Girlboss

You guessed it, more ImperaHil fanart

Young Seestor in a Suit and Young Peepaw in a Corset + Skirt 💕🐀

Which version did you like better?

Any art suggestions/thoughts? Drop em down below ghestie 👇

[geoffparty]

FOUND MORE OLD ART!

Ahhhh I LOVE t fvvghe Gidgete

[newkatzkafe2023]

@lara-legomonkiekid

Can I haver a part 2 of "What if Y/N was too territorial had Choo Choo Charles as pet",Please?

The monkey queen gets a visit from an unsuspecting train

(Lmk Wukong) It was relaxing on Flower fruit mountain until a frantic MK Appeared.

Mk: Monkey queen we need your help!!!😨

Wukong Gave her full attention to her protege and asked her what happened???

Mk: It was big!!! it was Smiling with blank eyes!😨😨😨

Mk Was hyperventilating like crazy before the monkey queen told her to Breath and tell her what happened

Mk: The creature was sitting outside of pigsy noodle shop. Everybody ran away or went into hiding It hasn't done anything but it was just sitting Menacingly! you got to come and get rid of it or Help me get rid of it Or even see what at wants😭😭😭😱😱😱

Mk Quickly described the creature sitting outside of the shop and monkey queen immediately knew who she was talking about.

(Wukong) What the hell is charles doing out of the jungle as far as I heard he never leaves the Jungle

Wukong Agreed to help MK with whatever Charles was doing. And just as the girl had said, the giant train spider was sitting right in front of pigsy's noodle shop and hasn't move.

(Wukong) Charles i'm here hey buddy what are you doing

The large local motive suddenly Move towards her and smacked his face against her head. He Looking everywhere for her And he remembers that she would hang out here. So he thought as long as he waited she would eventually come.

(Wukong) It's good to see you too, pow. But what are you doing out here especially without your friend

Charles couldn't respond because he knows that she won't understand him. But the reason he was out here was to find her of course. She has displayed So many positive traits of a mate for his master. She already responded to the possible Danger. She's taken care of her Adult child she adopted and she came down to protect the people around her. Make her a candidate for if her and his master decide to ever have children. She checked every box Of the list in his head and he actually likes her personally so win win.

Before anything else could happen

CHARLES!

The monkey Queen and everyone else turns to see you. You are an oversized black hoodie, some black jeans and sneakers. You were confused embarrassed and outraged looks like an explanation is an order

(NR Wukong) She was speechless. So was Li In front of the two girls was the legendary choo choo charles. He somehow found out where the monkey queen lived and showed up One bright and early morning. He seemed to be content as soon as he saw her he ran up To her and stop right in front of her letting out a loud Choo Choo. Li Was hiding behind the Queen's back. I know you may not believe me but that's exactly what's happening

(Li): What the hell is that Doing here

(Wukong) Oh calm down he's not gonna hurt you. His name is charles

(Li): Uh how the hell do you know that

(Wukong) Do you not notice the name tattoo to his engine

They both looked at the word charles on the side of the local motive who was Still calmly watching the two. Charles When to find the monkey queen Because he's never seen another monkey a female one before. He thought she had good traits of being a mate and considering she's remaining calm in front of the Possible danger that is him and keeping the child she already has safe She could be amazing mother in the future.

(Wukong) Charles, I don't exactly know what you want. But i'm pretty sure I don't have it just go home bud

But charles didn't move and remain Resting next to the garage. It was like he was waiting for someone and we get to see who

Charles Where are you

Everyone turn to see you approaching them seems like a explanation is in order

(HIB Wukong) She heard giggling from outside. But outside she had the heart attack of a lifetime. Her first thoughts were what the hell is charles doing here?! Her second thoughts is Liuer Couldn't be that stupid. The monkey Queen found a little girl playing with Charles hanging off one of his many legs. She was having a lot of fun. And charles seemed to enjoy her company as well as he was given her rides around the field.

(HIB Wukong) Charles put her down on once!

Oh good his target is here. Now before you say anything he's not here to fight but to observe. Ever since double jungle incident charles has shown interest towards the monkey queen. She seems to be good candidate for a mate for his master. She's already displaying motherly traits towards the child. She already has and she is ready to defend her from the possible danger that is him. Though he wouldn't in a million years attack. A small child especially when you can clearly smell her scent on A little girl so attacking her would mean attacking the monkey. Queen and that's not what he wants to do.

But anyway, charles allowed the small child to climb out of him and approach the queen She pushed Liuer Behind her In case it wasn't a trap but before anybody can say or do anything

Charles!!

Everyone turns to see you were approaching the train with Glare of annoyance and embarrassment an explanation seems to be in order

(Mk Reborn Wukong) She was severely annoyed with charles. That overgrown Super Hellish Arachnid followed her back to the monk and the pilgrims. He would not leave her alone. No matter how many times she pushed them away. He was not leaving her as she couldn't for the life of her understand why.

(Mk Reborn Wukong) Look, I don't know what you want from me. But i'm pretty sure I don't have it

Charles Didn't respond because she wouldn't understand what he's saying anyway. Between you and me. Charles approached a monkey queen because he already saw qualities of a mate for His own master she fit every aspect of him and Because of that he wants to make the relationship start as soon as possible. And in order to do that, he came to study her and see what they can use a platform.

Wukong Just groaned because it seems like he's not leaving anytime soon. To Charles, her aggression would be handy for possible dangerous to herself and any children. His master and her will have.

Charles!!!

The group turned to see you stomping towards the overgrown train and the monkey queen I guess explanation is an order

(Netflix Wukong) The village was in chaos again. Monkey queen was on her way to fix whatever's going on until she saw A very familiar creature who had gotten there first.

CHOO! CHOO!

Wukong I found that charles was already ripping through the demon invaders like tissue paper. The big old spider was covered in blood and chewing on the corpse of a demon. It seems like he killed all of them already before Swallowing the demon and approaching the monkey queen herself.

Wukong Guarded herself ready to fight until a big bloody slimey me tongue wiped itself against her furry face. The monkey queen stood still horrified by what she just experienced while charles was letting out excited whistles noises. Charles took a immediate liking to the monkey Queen herself. Says she's never seen a female monkey before. He is so sick of his master being alone all the time in that damn jungle It's about time he got out and socialized make some friends and find a girlfriend. And for his master to do that, he's going to need to give him a bit of a push.

(Wukong) Thanks for the help charles I didn't expect to see you so soon.

The demonic locomotive let out a Choo Choo before a familiar Figure came down to the queen and the spider.

Charles there you are what are you doing out here?!

Monkey queen turns to see you at the other end of the battlefield walking over The dead body Do you mean glaring at the spider an explanation is In order I assume

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Leave 10 likes for a Part 3

[zeherili-ankhein]

Bellatrix girlboss x Rodolphus malewife >>>>

[mhsdatgo]

By the way, you can say you hate characters and STILL admit that they were abused or harassed. There's literally nothing wrong. Denying it or romanticizing it because of a strange kink of yours won't make your hate any less evident, trust me.

Rhaenyra was abused. She's continuously taken advantage of, and brushed away the moment she isn't needed anymore. And she experiences this first hand with her own father, who completely ruins motherhood for her when she grows up watching Aemma get impregnated and either miscarry or have the baby be stillborn or die in the cradle. If Viserys had been by her side as a supporter to her claim since the start, he wouldn't have gotten Aemma pregnant again and again in the pursuit of a male child. He wouldn't have married Alicent for the same reason. Even after, the only reason why he still stands by her side, and it's time the fandom accepts this, it's solely because of his grief and guilt, because Rhae is the only remnant of Aemma.

And there it starts. Firstly, groomed and left alone naked and alone by her uncle in a brothel. Secondly, slept with Criston Cole (although she did coerce him, that's still a literal TEENAGER) then she's married to a gay man and still approached super young by her new bodyguard and just one year later she's started giving birth to his children. (Side note: FUCK Rhaenyra x Harwin. FUCK with reverb. With hard K.)

And up to this point, most fan agree that she's had a shitty life, although I don't agree with some of her choices. (like her treatment of Criston Cole and the bastards, not because I'm some kind of bigot, but because passing bastards as trueborn in THAT precise world sets them up for failure, not being legally deserving of a thone DOES NOT mean me hating them. That's for another post.)

To top it all off, she meets her uncle again, and there starts the fanfic self insert. They have sex on a beach the day of Laena's funeral, the only one of the three wives he's ever been canonically loyal to (FUCK you writers) and fans think it's soulmates meeting again or sum shit. They subtly threaten Laenor to fake his death or actually die (that's what they were trying to do, cope harder) and marry mere days after the death of Laena.

Yes, all cute and romantic (for Dumbnyras twats) but literally, has it done anything good? For Rhaenyra or like, anyone else? It just brought Daemon closer to the line of succession. Literally. That's all the good it has done.

Fast forward to ep 10. How do I even start with this? Only Jace seems to be on Rhaenyra's side. It's clear he only obeys to Daemon out of fear and is scared to talk back to him. Meanwhile, he COMPLETELY disregards his wife's, and by his faction's loyalties, QUEEN's, orders, he ignores her wails of pain as she miscarries their daughter out of pure shock and grief for her father's death. He lashes out and chokes her on the same day and people still see him as the malewife to Rhaenyra's girlboss. They're always ready to do award-deserving mental gymnastic to justify this man.

"He was planning war because he wanted to distract himself!!!!" "He only choked Rhae because he was mad at Viserys, he'd never hurt her!!!!!!"

Fuck off. Coming from probably Rhaenyra's #1 hater. Fuck. Off. Don't say you care about her place in the view of men when you're ready to justify shit like this.

This is the same man who runs off and has an affair with a teenager, and then prefers going on and having a badass death instead of joining his wife and children who need him in King's Landing.

Do I like Rhaenyra? No. Do I think that, because of this, she's never been abused, or exploited in any way, in her life? ALSO no. My distaste for her character has NOTHING to do with Viserys, Criston, Daemon, Harwin or literally ANYONE ELSE in her life.

Alicent Hightower time, baby.

My mother, my aunt, my grandmother, my entire bloodline, my Roman Empire. And more. To anyone who thinks of her as nothing but a bitter/jealous girl, go read @feretrumdulcia 's post about this matter cuz there's literally no one I've seen that words it better. (And bub if you're reading, long live you and the way you think.)

https://www.tumblr.com/feretrumdulcia/720746371814195200/i-have-seen-quite-often-that-many-people-consider

Anyone who can read this and argue that Alicent is envious/jealous or bitter, honestly needs to take the heart shaped sunglasses off, get off tumblr and Ao3, learn what media literacy is and start learning how to possess a crumble of it. To us it makes sense to synpathize with both, because we've seen the big picture. To Alicent, Rhaenyra gave her virtue to the man that almost killed her brother, and chose to believe she did not out of trust and maybe nostalgia for her friendship and easier times, only to have her father be blamed and taken away from her as a result.

She has four kids in the span of, how much? Five, six years? Seven at best? Helaena and Aemond are NINE MONTHS APART. Viserys didn't even let her rest after she gave birth to her daughter. And I'm convinced 100% that he kept her as Idk some whore he didn't need to pay for because it's stated that he never wanted Aegon but the son he butchered Aemma for. Why keep on bedding her and forcing children on her when you'd never get what you want from her?

Throughout the series she's called bitter and downright a c*nt for this and that reason. She tries convincing Viserys that Rhae's children are CLEARLY bastards and she's setting herself and them up for failure by committing treason and putting them on the throne? Nah, power hungry, jealous, bitter. She marries Helaena to Aegon as a last resort because she's Valyrian and probably would've received proposals worse than the ones Rhaenyra made that would eventually convince Viserys to give her away? Hates her daughter, abuser, shitty mom. Rhae's sons slit her son's eye out instead of running when they had the chance and she rightfully lashes out? Nah, crazy ass, for the dungeons. She gives money and moon tea to her son's rape victim to ensure she gets a way out and isn't forced to have a baby she doesn't want? Bruh, rape apologist. She goes to Aegon and RIGHTFULLY disciplines him? Abuser. Forced to show her feet to a rancid filthy man to know where her son is? Upholds the patriarchy, hypocrite. She convinces Aegon to start fighting for her family because it's either them or the Blacks and he needs to start putting his life together and fight for them, so she crowns him and makes him King? Treason, deserves death, long live the brothel queens.

Somehow, it is ALWAYS HER FAULT. And those few that admit how wronged she was make fun of her.

CAN SHE FUCKING WIN?! Or y'all just hate her because she isn't Valyrian?

Btw almost all of these arguments are the same for Book!Alicent who I personally believe to be FAR MORE than just a bitter stepmom that hates her stepdaughter. She arguably has more reasons to start a coup against her in the books without that prophecy shit.

TLDR; It's OKAY to hate characters and admit they're abused and taken advantage of at the same time. You don't have a moral high-ground on no one because you hate or love a character instead of the other.

[sneezypoo]

jo x brick aka girlboss x male wife

(tysm for 10k likes on my tumblr!,!.! this is so totally insane in the membrane )

[filmbyjy]

BUSINESS PROPOSAL

PAIRING > park sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis > being the amazing friend you were, you had helped your friend who desperately did not want to go on the blind date so you went as her. however, you were dumbfounded to find out that the CEO was your friend’s blind date! hopefully, he doesn’t recognise you.

GENRE > ceo au, staff!reader, fake dating au, girlboss reader because that’s how kim hari was in business proposal😌 hot CEO sunghoon (ahah but you must be asking why not secretary when there is a sunghoon in business proposal that was hot and kinky😏 well idk)

FEATURING > K from &team, yujin and wonyoung from ive, danielle from newjeans, harvey from XG and romin from e'last. of course the enhypen members too and if on occasions I may add new idols into the smau ^_^

WARNING > there isn't much warnings but like I FEEL BAD FOR MAKING MY LOVE FROM E'LAST AS MINWOO THE RED FLAG T_T

SCHEDULE > updated whenever I can…

TAGLIST > series has officially ended. thank you for joining this whole ride🫶🏻

START: 20 October 2022 | END: 12 February 2023

NOTE: 4th SMAU WOOOO. well technically there is only ‘jam out’ here…EHEM I’ll just exit🚪I know I’ve written in my original that the reader will be sunghoon’s secretary but I ultimately decided to stick to how the original ‘business proposal’ went. BUT I may make you the secretary maybe later on in the episodes😉 oh and I aged up everyone except jungwon and ni-ki bc I like the aspect of them being sunghoon’s bodyguards even though they are high schoolers😀

profile: CEO and his minions | cosmetic whores😛

prologue: the contrasts of friend groups

one: love hurts [written]

two: no head, no possay

three: damn😨

four: they are just friends

five: THATS AGAINST THE LAW

– placing this bc the previous read more messed up –

six: he just self inserted

seven: makeover montage😍😍

eight: LET YOUR TITS FREE🗣️🗣️

nine: who tf is harvard and one letter hyung?

ten: dave and juan🥺 [written + pictures]

eleven: tell us what you know old man👹

twelve: I wanna kick some shins😍😍

thirteen: curby

fourteen: snorting my sorrows away

fifteen: elavatoe

sixteen: plot hole once again

seventeen: sunoo finds out! [written]

eighteen: alpha female raptor

nineteen: FOR FREE???

twenty: grippers and snatchers

twenty-one: ZAYUM DADDAË

twenty-two: velociraptor speaks

twenty-three: happy birthday, here is a gift❤️

twenty-four: meeting the grandmother😵‍💫 [written]

twenty-five: the english to australian translator

twenty-six: love you too hyung🥰

twenty-seven: they’re dating…again

twenty-eight: hentai tentacles

twenty-nine: happy anniversary? [written]

thirty: she’s a fraud

thirty-one: let’s drink the night away!

thirty-two: christian minecraft server era

thirty-three: jay hyung male wife era

thirty-four: YOU KNEW HE KNEW??

thirty-five: SOUND THE ALARM

thirty-six: they flirting

thirty-seven: 3 step guide [written]

thirty-eight: the censored pic

thirty-nine: we good time👍🏻

fourty: kiss me [written]

fourty-one: post-kiss feelings??

fourty-two: paper work. what else?

fourty-three: failed secret dating

fourty-four: b-b-but :(

fourty-five: she’s a fighter [written]

fourty-six: how about…naur

fourty-seven: NO BUTS🧌 JUST GO

fourty-eight: that’s a pervert!

fourty-nine: the devil’s cha cha cha💃🏻🕺🏻

fifty: r.i.p that pus- [written]

special episodes!

baby name website

the many FaceTime sessions

youngmi and her little sibling

ask business proposal casts

author asks | business proposal cast

[oftenderweapons]

London Calling | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x Vixen

Wordcount: 3.1k

Genre: Fluff, smut, pwp, established relationship!AU, idol!Au, Married!AU

Rating: 18+; minors, please do not interact

Synopsis: Vixen has decided to distract herself from Namjoon's incumbent enlistment by focusing on her job. She has accepted adding more international works to her portfolio and is currently in London; too bad Namjoon can't help but post risqué pictures on his Instagram, and it really seems he's doing so to try and get her attention.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Swearing, Fear of infidelity, Nostalgia. Extremely mild DDLG dynamics, Babygirl!Vixen, Brat!Vixen, Phone sex, Masturbation, Dirty talking. Mentions of: Oral sex (both male and female receiving), Lingerie kink, Sex toys, Spanking. Oh, and one of Joon's friends simps for Vixen.

As usual, you can find my masterlist right here! I wouldn't mind if you took a few seconds to leave a comment or reblog my fic 🥰 Also, my requests are always open!!!

Enjoy 💜✨

“Been hearing someone’s on their worst behaviour.”

Namjoon’s chuckle on the opposite end of the line is everything you need to know. “What can I say, my last moral anchor is busy girlbossing around the world.” He licks his lips and sits down on the sofa, his friends messing around his kitchen, beers and liquors spread around your marble counter. “I’m missing my lucky star.”

“Your guardian angel.”

“My only angel,” he flirts. 

The game is back on between you and Namjoon. Ever since you decided to stop waiting around for his enlistment and have started accepting international projects on your portfolio, it’s like no matter where either of you are, it’s always time to flirt on the phone. 

Or mess around even more. 

He’s touched down in London for you about two weeks ago, showing up at your hotel room with an Agent Provocateur bag dangling from his pretty fingers and the kind of smile that always gets you shimmying out of your panties. 

“What are you up to, love? What time is it over there?”

“Uh-huh. I’m the one doing the asking here, mister.” 

He puts his glass back on the coffee table, and leans over with his elbows on his knees. “I’m just trying to feed my imagination, little fox. What’s a boy to do, with an empty bed and a sexy wife on the other side of the world?”

“I don’t know, maybe be more careful before talking talks he can’t walk?” you suggest. 

He lowers his voice before saying, “You’d be over my knee right now, you know?”

You decide to talk back, just to mess him up further. Your voice is like midnight fog when you tell him, “you’d have to catch me first.”

He steals a glance towards the kitchen. This feels an awful lot like when the two of you began hanging out — the secrecy, the craving, the distance, and the pining. Except this time you have rings on your hands and there’s no doubting loyalty, not on his nor your behalf. 

He toys with his own ring, tracing it with his thumb, twisting it a little to the left, then to the right, back and forth. 

“It seems you appreciated that quick leak��” 

You click your tongue. “One of these days you’re gonna end up naked in those pics and I’ll have to come home to do damage control.”

“Is that all it takes to have you back home? I miss my territorial little vixen.” He stares at your stash of books in the bookshelf, standing tall right next to his, but looking twice more put together. 

“I’ve noticed you’ve been acting sluttier lately.”

“At least I haven’t gone entirely shirtless yet.” He picks up the glass again and you hear him swallowing through the line. “Unlike some of my friends. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Lucky, you say?” 

He hears the sound of a glass being put down. “Are you drinking, babygirl?”

You cock an eyebrow and stare at your glass of red wine. “I’m dined and wined. You know which bit is missing. But it seems you’re not that deserving.”

“What did you eat?” He doesn’t grant you the courtesy of winning this sensual verbal sparring. That tiny comment about being dined and wined was a trap, he can tell. Looking so casual and half-hearted can only mean you expected him to go there, and if he does, he’ll probably end up right where you wanted him. 

He can do better. 

“I had a steak. With a lovely truffle cream. I’ll have to make it for you next time you’re around.” Your reply comes off beat, and he smiles, happy that he caught you off guard. 

If this were a match of martial arts, you’d be dwindling a little, your balance compromised. “I’d love to. Miss your tiramisu. Your cheesecake. Your aglio e olio. Your sweet little ass working around the kitchen.”

You laugh, the sound as bright and heartstopping as ever. Blood rushes to his cheeks. He loves making you laugh. “You got the guys over, I assume? Four in the morning?”

“We just finished working. Like maybe an hour ago or so.” He can’t keep calm anymore. Everytime you call him when he’s home, his gaze keeps wandering to every piece of it that belongs to you. 

Sometimes it’s suffocating. Sometimes he sleeps back at the studio. Sometimes he stays over at other people’s places. 

Now it’s the portrait of your orchids that you had commissioned for him. It sits next to his bonsais, so he can think of your collection each time he’s watering his own. 

Sometimes he wonders who is whose subtext, because at times he thinks you’re the one who picked up habits from him, other times he thinks it’s him who accidentally got into certain hobbies through the years so he could be your exact shadow once the two of you finally met and aligned. 

“Also, you’re calling at four in the morning,” he observes. “Oh…” He rubs the back of his head, then plops back on the sofa, as if he were deflating slowly. “Right. I’m your booty call.” He chuckles. “Almost forgot.”

“I can find someone else in a more suitable time zone, if that sits well with you,” you reply, your tone just a tiny bit annoyed. His nonchalance irks you just a little. 

“That your sneaky link, man?” you hear someone holler on his side. 

“So now I’m miss sneaky link, huh? Not bad, mister booty call.” You click your tongue. “I’ll leave you to your friends. I thought you were alone, didn’t mean to disturb.” This could be your chance to win this match. 

“No, don’t go because they’re about to. Kind of right now,” he says, looking towards the kitchen and nodding towards the door. “Sorry guys. Vixen’s rule.”

“He don’t deserve you, honey,” one of his friends calls. “Just one chance, miss. Kindly.”

“We’re literally married,” he tells the guy, then to you, “Bum says hi.”

“Oh, hi sweetie. What are your thoughts on the London timezone?” you ask, coquettishly.

“Careful, fox.” Namjoon’s voice is stern when it comes on. It makes you sit taller on your seat, redirecting the pressure in between your thighs. “And you’d better not reply, Bum.”

The guy stares at Namjoon as he says. “For you, anything, my queen. Though, from personal experience, it’s excellent for your late nights and our early mornings. If you know you know,” Bum suggests. 

Namjoon slaps the guy’s back with the most sarcastic smile on his face. “Time to go, dude.” 

“Starcrossed lovers, that’s our fate, my queen.”

You laugh loudly and Namjoon is a little annoyed. “All the great loves are those that never happened, Bum.”

“Guys, I’m literally right here!?” Namjoon says, embarrassed and just a tad annoyed. “You, get out of my house. And stop trying to seduce my wife.”

“Bum, can you keep an eye on him? Kinda worried I might not be the only sneaky link of his.” You joke about it, but deep down, there’s always a sliver of worry in it. You wouldn’t be surprised if some of his friends were encouraging him to be unloyal to you just because you decided to push forward with your career. 

“He’s too busy panting for you to even begin thinking about someone else.” Bum’s putting on his shoes by the door, hushered by Namjoon. His three other friends are similarly getting dressed, laughing at the exchange. 

“Literally, Vixen—”

Namjoon looks like he’s baring his teeth at Bum using his nickname for you. 

“He’s whipped. We keep him in check, but it’s like guarding a leashed little puppy.”

You giggle, sweet and endeared. “Good. That’s the way I like him.” You lick your lips. “Make sure he doesn’t bare his ass on Instagram.”

“So you’re falling for his little thirst traps?” Bum’s laugh booms in the room and Namjoon wacks him on the head, worried about the neighbours. Also, he doesn’t like admitting that when he posts, he’s thinking about the way you would react when seeing him. 

“You know how I am, Bum. I’m always falling for him,” you confess, cheesy and utterly honest at the same time.

Namjoon smiles like the cat who got the cream. “That’s sweet, babygirl. The guys are leaving now. Bye guys,” he says quickly, finally kicking them out. 

You try to say bye in return, but you hear the door close and Namjoon is immediately all over you. “Always falling for me, huh?” He heads back towards the sofa. “That’s new.”

“That’s actually so, so old.” You roll your eyes but smile through it anyways. 

“You’re my only sneaky link, Vixen. Still got your claw marks all over my back, by the way. Lovely touch.”

“Gotta mark my territory,” you state matter-of-factly.

“Wanna switch this over to a video call?” he suggests, already undoing the first button of his shirt.

“Just so I can be reminded I’m not over there fucking you right?” You snort bitterly. “No way.”

“We could make this our own personal porno,” he suggests, grateful that his trousers are baggy enough to give him extra space around the crotch. “Just a little visual aid.”

“You’re telling me you don’t remember how I rode you last time?” You undo the little bow at the waistband of your pyjama pants, your fingertips tiptoeing around the elastic of your panties. 

“Let’s say I wouldn’t mind having a bit more than a memory to hold on to.” As if telepathically connected, he’s also undoing the button and zip of his denim cargos. 

“Fair. You usually hold on to my hips while I fuck you.”

He hisses, head thrown back. “And you hold on to my throat when I’ve been an exceptionally good boy.” 

A shiver screeches down your torso, then spreads through your midriff and settles somewhere at the small of your back, as if recalling the phantom touch of his hand, of his thumbs imprinting themselves in the twin dimples at the base of your spine. He likes resting his fingers there when he’s taking you from behind. It’s like the little dips were designed for his digits to rest there. 

“You’re such a lucky little fucker,” you tease him and he one-ups you, 

“I fucking am, but last time I checked you usually sort of profit from it.” 

Your sultry laugh is his favourite form of payment — right now he’s richer than he’s ever been. 

“Are your hands free, love?”

You let him hang there for a couple long seconds, your breathing heavy. “They’d be freer if you were here,” you tell him. “Maybe not.”

“They’d be all over me, and you know it, little fox.” He purrs as his hand finds a good spot. He’s not yet actually touching himself, but he’s definitely teasing. “Got on a fucking plane for those hands.”

“You flew for twelve hours for these hands.”

“And for that ass,” he adds, quick-witted. 

Your laugh is more of a snort. “And that too.”

His zipper is undone, he dips his hand under the waistband of his briefs, shifting it downwards. “For that smart mouth of yours,” he whispers. “Just to kiss it for a bunch of hours.”

“It was very grateful,” you remind him, trying to bluff the fact that your middle finger is now circling your clitoris. 

“I remember that.” His heartbeat is starting to accelerate. “I had to stop it from being a little bit too grateful.” He remembers the silky feeling of your hair in between his fingers, the tension in your hand on his thigh as you tried to take more of him. “My birthday girl,” he hums. “And yet, I was the lucky bastard who got presents.” The sight of you in that powder pink corset, with the delicate ruffles, and the feather trims tracing the top of your breasts, palpitating with every single excited breath you took. 

It had been like seeing a map of your arousal, goosebumps rising on any inch of skin he had dared lay his eyes on. 

“You were so responsive,” he whispered. “You were so fucking wet.”

“You teased me for almost an hour,” you object.

“I’ll have to make it two hours next time then.” He’s throbbing in his own palm, circling his tip, hissing when he hits a too-sensitive spot. “Maybe with the tickler still.”

“It was delightful, I will admit that.” You’re leaning on your hand now, cupped between your thighs. “Wish your face was between my legs.”

“Wish you were sitting on it, baby.” He bites his lip, as if he could recall the feel, the taste of you on his mouth. “Can’t believe it’s been two weeks already.”

“I can’t wait to be home,” you moan.

He can tell you’re touching yourself, from your ragged breathing, and from the way your voice has become more vulnerable, and more impatient too. “I’ll make sure to clear my schedule when you do. We can do that ‘seven days a week’ type of shit.”

You moan and he laughs to himself. 

“Are you gonna come for me, my love?” he asks fondly, his voice like a dark caress. “Are you thinking about my mouth fucking you? About my tongue stroking you, feeling how wet and warm and sweet you are?”

“Joon, please,” you beg, a desperate little laugh.

“No need to beg, babygirl. You can have everything you want when you’re with me,” he continues, with his calm, direct voice. “You can take it, love. You can have me deep inside you, and you can suck on my fingers if you’re struggling to keep your voice down.” He’s quickened his own pace, trying to climb as fast as you do. “Or you can be loud, and tell the neighbours who’s making you feel this good.”

“When I get home I want you to mess me up for days. You’re gonna mark me, and make love to me and fuck me and feed me. You’re gonna cuddle me to sleep, then wake me up with your hand between my legs.”

You’re holding your breath as you speak, your high approaching like an incumbent, massive wave. 

“I promise, love.”

“Are you coming too?” you ask, and he hums simply. 

“I’m close.”

“I want you to fuck me while I sit on your lap.”

“On the sofa?”

“On the sofa, on the floor, in bed, I don’t care.” You gasp, then chuckle as you hit an indecently good angle with your fingers. “I want to hold you as we make love.”

“You will, baby.”

“I wanna whisper in your ear that you’re my one and only. That you’re the only one in the whole world who can get me this good.” 

He loves when you get emotional during sex. He loves when you start to ramble and you tell him all those things you usually keep to yourself. “I can’t wait either. I miss you in bed. I miss you at every meal, I miss going to our galleries. I miss every fucking thing.” He’s getting desperate. “And most of all, I miss those eyes on me.”

“I’m coming,” you gasp, out of the blue, the idea of sitting on his lap, naked, making love to him, your mouth clamped around the crook of his shoulder to keep quiet, his hands tracing your back, his eyes looking for yours, for confirmation, for loyalty, for reassurance, for companionship. 

“That’s my darling.” He can let go now, and he fucks his hand with intention, with neat powerful jerks. He helps himself with strong thrusts of his pelvis, and precise tugs of his hand too. He grunts when he hears your sweet whimpers on your side of the call, and finally he follows you into pleasure, with the image of your head thrown back, your plump lips agape, your hair tumbling wild behind you as you bounce on him. 

He can almost feel the aftertaste of your perspiration on the tip of his tongue. 

“Wow,” you say as soon as you manage to recollect yourself. 

He’s still sort of numb, his orgasm spilled on his stomach and happy trail. Just a glimpse down and he’s already envisioned the phantom of you studying his semen, lowering yourself to his navel and tracing it with your digit, only to bring it to your mouth to have a taste. He clicks his tongue in disappointment. 

“Damn, I wanna cuddle the fuck out of you and you’re too far away.” He reaches for a tissue to clean himself quickly. “I guess that’s why we don’t do this more often. I miss the aftercare.” He pulls himself back in his briefs, then blocks his phone between his shoulder and ear and stands to get rid of the tissue. “How are you feeling, love?”

“Hunting for chocolate.”

“Oh, baby…” He giggles, endeared. “Should I order something for you?”

“No… it’s okay.” You’re a little bit sad, but you try your best not to let it show.”

“Not even those glass beads you’d seen on our favourite website?”

You widen your eyes. “Let’s not make say things we don’t mean now...”

Namjoon laughs fondly. “Thought so.” He waits a little. “We can just talk, by the way. Or you can go grab a toy and we can keep going with this. We could discuss in great details what you intend to do to me once you’re back.”

“We could do that. Or we could video call and you could watch me hump this little thing you got me.”

He grins. “Then let me get comfy. We’ve got quite the night coming up.”

You smile. “We do.”

He hesitates. “We don’t have to, you know? If you don’t want to video call. I’m okay with just hearing you.”

You pause. Your love for him multiplies exponentially in your chest. “Sure we don’t have to. But I want to.”

Namjoon smiles. “Okay.”

“Get comfy, lucky boy,” you tease him.

“I’ll be right there.”

It’s almost six in the morning when you fall asleep. He’s propped the phone right beside him on the pillow and though he’s found himself dropping it a couple times, he’s refused to let go until he was sure you were asleep. 

Now he closes the video call and locks his phone, putting it back on the nightstand. He pulls your pillow close, hugging it to his chest, then throws a leg on top of it. He places another pillow in between his legs, where your thighs would normally tangle with his. 

He breathes in the vague scent of you left on the bed — not much since the sheets have been changed and he can only smell the laundry scent you normally use, of sandalwood and cedar, warm and spicy. 

Twenty-three days. 

He can handle it. 

He falls asleep with the memory of your body like ivy against his own. Even this far apart, he is and will always be covered in you.

[theymademesignup08]

I haven’t read the cruel prince series yet but from what I’ve seen from it it’s basically like girlboss that’s tired of everything x bratty male wife and I love that for them.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

https://www.tumblr.com/irresistible-revolution/633688280720916480/fanon-ships-and-the-alpha-male-x-cinderella

thoughts?

I personally would not go that far, at least on most cases. I'd say that the trend of women insisting the Bad Boy type is actually far kinder and more respectful towards the Main Girl than the Good Guy is a combination of two things:

1 - The sexist belief that women who like the "wrong" kind of romance are too stupid to know that some things should be fantasy only and not a model for real life relationships.

2 - The annoying trend of the past decades of people having to pretend nothing about the things they personally like can be kinky, or even genuinely problematic, otherwise they'd be admiting to being bad people.

It's purity culture. It's the assumption of "I am capable of crytical thinking, you are not." Plain and simple.

Some people just get horny for villains/morally dubious characters, are aware that they will be judged for it - and instead of just going "Fuck you, you don't have the right to judge me because of a goddamn fantasy" they try to argue "Actually, YOUR fantasy is the one that is actually problematic, sexist, racist, elitist, heteronormative and panders to the EVIL Male Gaze, while MY fantasy is secretly empowering and subversive and designed to be enjoyed by enlightened girlbosses because it is made with the Wholesome Female Gaze in mind."

Zutarians, for all their talk of wanting a complicated, mature, adult romance for their ship, are actually fucking terrified of the more messy aspects of their own fantasies, and instead of getting over that complex (or removing them through AUs) and having their fun, they defend themselves from bad faith criticism by attacking people first.

That's why they deem Aang a rapist for the Ember Island kiss and call Kataang fans abuse apologists for it, but constantly sexualize the scene of Zuko tying Katara to a tree. That's why they complain that Katara was reduced to "Aang's trophy-wife and airbender breeder" but write AUs where Katara is literally Zuko's sex slave. Why they complain about the supposed "power imbalance" due to Kataang's two year age gap, but don't say a word about Zutara's two year age gap. Why they insist that Kataang fans are all males projecting onto Aang (because projecting onto a guy is inherently bad) while Zutara fans are all women "connecting" with Katara (because projecting onto a girl is inherently good). Why they label Aang as intolerant of Katara's culture for not liking the food, but will throw a fit if people point out that Zuko, and his entire family and nation, legit wanted wanted Katara dead, or at least subjugated, because of her race.

It's a CLASSIC cope and pure proejction. I like tons of Villain X Hero ships, and I see that bullshit all the time. People feel some kind of guilt or shame over being into a character that is a "bad person", even though that is a morally neutral thing, so they twist the narrative until it fits into a pseudo-feminist idea of an "empowering" fantasy for women.

Zutarians claiming that their ship, that only exists because of rape fics, is actually NOT based on highly kinky shit (namely Male Domination/Female Submission with bonus of dubcon/noncon and race play) but rather just on the vague/nonsensical concept of the "Female Gaze" is no different than a bunch of Game of Thrones/HOTD fans, and even the excutives and writers, pretending that 50% the rapes and 90% of the age-inappropriate and/or incestuous relationships aren't just George R.R. Martin (and themselves) having fetishes.

Both are morally neutral and should just be honest about when they are genuinely exploring a dark topic and when they're just getting off on a kinky fantasy. But being honest about it doesn't give zutarians an excuse to act morally superior, so they just stick to their double-standard and purity policing.

[huramuna]

beware the sapphire peak - chapter 3, end.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

prev | next

wordcount: 3.7k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different.a crimson peak inspired mini series.

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!i don't do taglists right now, so sorry!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is (it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory, mentions of infertility, murder, depictions of murder/violence, pregnancy

moonlight sonata - beethoven • nocturne in e-flat major, op. 9, no. 2 - chopin

warnings: p in v, face sitting, come eating i guess!, breeding kink

So sweet– she had tasted so sweet to you, like the most saccharine, tooth rotting, sugary treat you’d ever had. A taste that you could get lost in for eons, grasping at the surface that threatened to pull you under, deeper, deeper… until darkness consumed you– and you could only taste her. 

Alys murmured something to you as your mind went fuzzy with panic. What would Aemond think? What would happen now? Would he divorce you? Would he fire Alys? 

Your hands shook slightly, a tingling and eventual numbing feeling coming to your lips, spreading throughout your extremities. Everything was in slow motion, the vision of Alys blurred through tears. “A-Alys,” you croaked. “I-I don’t know what just happened— I-I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, don’t cry, my sweet puppy,” she cooed, upon you again, her scent all consuming and overwhelming and you wanted to kiss her again. “It’s natural.”

“N-Natural?” you whimpered, eyes still misty.

“Yes,” Alys breathed, petting your head. “You know, male lions usually have a few lionesses in their pride— and the lionesses are known to take great affections with each other, too. ‘Tis only natural, to seek the comforts of ones who comfort you.” 

You sniffed, not really understanding what she was saying. The numbness was spreading, your head spinning and feeling like a hive of bees had taken host in your cranium. “I-I don’t… I don’t feel well…” you managed to whisper, clinging to the older woman as you lost feeling in your limbs, an acute pins-and-needles type pain steepling into your flesh, tapering off into icy splinters. 

Now, you saw nothing but darkness, only hearing the hushed whispers of someone faraway. 

You were dreaming now, you were sure— as you walked through the halls, feeling light as a feather. Your hand dragged along the stair bannister, nails tapping to a rhythmic tune that you could hardly recollect. It felt as if you were outside of your body in a slightly pastel toned version of the real world, a skewed view of what was actually real. The shade of carpet was off hue, a lighter, rosy red than it actually was, the accompanying curtains a complimentary shade of pink, when in reality, they were deep crimson. 

Your steps felt effortless, a spring in your step like a young fawn who’d figured out how to use its legs, jaunting through the corridors with ease. You enjoyed your lovely pastel dream world, until you turned and saw the very end of the foyer. 

It was dark, the light sucked out of it like it’d been erased, consumed— a familiar sight of inky black tendrils beckoned from the end of the hall, your feet moving on their own accord now. Your brain, feeling very much like prey, screamed at you. Threat, threat— run, run, run! But you couldn’t, you couldn’t turn, nor abscond. Getting closer, there was an eerie hum, like many voices converging together into a cacophony— you recognized it, fear settling into your bones. It was a dirge. 

Pleasepleaseplease, don’t make me, don’t make me. Save me, save me.

The siren song lured you closer, until you were swallowed by the darkness itself, falling, falling… 

“We are you, Lady Targaryen.” 

“You shan’t leave this place.” 

“You will be trapped and rotted like us.” 

“You’ve fallen for their ruse. A fatal mistake.” 

The fall felt neverending, the breath stolen from your lungs until they felt like shriveled raisins. Hands grabbed at your body greedily, pulling you under the surface as water replaced oxygen in your body– you gasped out, screaming, but no sound came, your arms wouldn’t move, as if they were stuck in molasses.

Other voices permeated your being, familiar ones. They brought a little comfort, but you could only discern bits and pieces of what they were whispering, chattering around you. 

“— used too much, Alys—,”

“— she is perfect—,” 

“— needs to wake up before—,”

Your consciousness, your real life felt so far away now, as your hands reached out to buffet the impact of your fall into the void… you could almost feel the sickly crunch of your ligaments being broken as you kissed the loam, into a darling embrace of nothingness.

You crashed to the ground, body strewn and broken like a porcelain doll– broken, shattered, thrown away. Trapped.

Sitting up from the bed, your bed, you were drenched in sweat. Oxygen ballooned in your lungs with a sharp, audible inhale as you looked around, eyes wide like a newborn fawn, once again. You zeroed in on Aemond, who was sitting in the corner of the room in the reading chair, one leg crossed over another, bobbing with anxiety. Alys was there, too, off to the opposite side of the chamber, fiddling with something on the desk. Her hair, usually well mannered and groomed, was slightly strewn in a loose bun.

The sound of your gasp caused them to be at your side in an instant, one on either side of the bed. Aemond’s hand was entwined with yours instantly.

“Thank God, she’s finally awake,” he murmured, shooting Alys a quick glance, brow furrowed.

“Oh, darling,” Alys cooed, “You took quite a spill in the bathroom– Lord Targaryen found you with a nasty head wound.”

Fell? When did you fall? With a shaky hand, your fingers skimmed the outline of cloth pressed to your forehead– you winced, a sharp intake of breath hissing through your teeth, it was tender to the touch. “When… how long have I been… unconscious for?”

“Five days.” Aemond responded, his leg still shaking as he pulled up the chair, sitting back down in it promptly. 

You felt bewildered by that– five days? Five days you’d been asleep– and your dreams felt like only a moment and an eternity. The distress must’ve clearly read on your face, as Aemond squeezed your hand. You glanced over to him, lines of worry etched into his brow and beyond. He had dark circles under his eyes, likely from lack of sleep. He was, overall, disheveled, a look you hadn’t quite seen on him. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly cloying and full of cotton. 

Alys nudged you, a spoon in her hand. She had soup– when did she leave? – offering it, intent on feeding you like a mere babe. Curling into yourself inwardly, you shook your head. “... m’ fine, I can… I can do it,” you offered, suddenly feeling extremely aware of the heavy mood of the room. They had fretted over you for days, for an accident you likely caused yourself. 

“Come, dear,” Alys urged. “‘Tis wild rice in a nice bone broth.” 

Your indignant streak ended quickly as your stomach audibly growled at the sound of the food. Mustering down your shame, you sipped at the soup, allowing Alys to spoon feed you. Aemond had a faraway look in his eye as he stared at the pair of you.

–

Your recovery was slow and meticulous– you had fractured your leg from your fall, as well as having some nasty bruises on your hip, the purple red hue blooming under your skin like ink from a tipped over inkwell. 

You were utterly dependent on Alys and Aemond as they nursed you back to health, hand feeding you, bathing you, carrying you down stairs– and you let them. You melded into their touch, becoming one with them and they handled you like extensions of themselves, gentle and loving, as not to hurt you any further.

Your head wasn’t completely clear, though– even a whole month and a half after your accident, you still felt like a teddy, stuffed full of wool and hardly sentient. Alys laid you down in the bathtub, the same one you’d knocked your head against apparently, the water warm. It washed over you in waves, heat sinking into your bones and quelling the urge you had to scream, to run– to do anything. The scent of lavender filled your nose as she poured floral oils into the water. 

Aemond was behind her, watching carefully. He was always there, no matter the situation, looming. He was adjusting his shirt cuffs idly, over and over in an anxious habit. He had quite a lot of those, you had noted. Now that you were almost always by his side, you watched him constantly, taking in those little habits. Jaw clenching, eye twitching, rubbing his fingers together, bouncing his leg. Not only those, but he constantly looked to Alys, as if they were communicating with their eyes alone. 

You wondered what they were saying, as they met gazes and then looked back to you in sync while you were in the bath, nude as the day you were born. You pulled your legs up to your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious as they both bore into you, regarding you unabashedly, orbs roving over your figure. Pressing your chin to your knees, you looked past them, the glint of their scrutiny in your peripheral now. There was someone behind them.

Bloody and crooked, dripping water and essence of life, her body bloated and putrid. Her hair was blonde, at one point, at least– it was now a murky gray, stained pinkish with only the notion of its former color peeking through. Her eyes were dark, never ending holes– it was like looking straight into the void itself. Her throat was slashed, leaking the same black ichor that was in your dreams while you were incapacitated. Heavy breathing, jagged and errant, like a broken key on a piano, drowned out the chatter between Aemond and Alys. Her hand, spindly and wretched, squeezed on the frame of the bathroom door as she perched upon it, unable to stand upon the weight of broken, splintered legs. 

“You. Won’t. Live.”

The person you were before your accident might have choked, sobbed– but you were good acquaintances now with the ghosts of the estate, and their never ending threats and prophecy. Your eyes glazed over, a peeved grunt coming from you. “Go away.” you muttered. You were sick of seeing their faces, hiding in plain sight, always leering at you from afar with their grotesque visages.

“What?” Alys asked, taking her hands out of the water and peering at you curiously.

“... may I bathe alone, please?” you sighed, wishing for one moment of peace and quiet and aloneness.

Alys looked back at Aemond and they shared that unspoken connection once again. He nodded slightly, minutely. He didn’t even say anything– he didn’t say much since your accident, leaning on Alys to be his voice. He clenched his jaw, as he does, and left the room. 

Alys planted a kiss on your brow– the sweetness of her perfume felt familiar– and she departed, closing the door. As she left, you reflected on the state of your life. You felt like less than a person, moreso a doll. You didn’t remember falling, and you remembered… kissing Alys. Hardly, it was like a memory fluttering away on a breeze now, but the feeling of it was still there. It flooded back in your mind as you had drank in the scent of her when she got close, your stomach turning into a horde of butterflies. Was that even real? Or was it a figment of your damaged brain, painting a pretty picture for you while you were in a state of stupefaction.

It had to have been an illusion. Surely. 

You supplanted your hand on the lip of the tub after soaking for at least three hours– the water was cold now, turning your slightly warmed stupor into ice. You had hardly walked on your own these past few weeks, and when attempting to, held up by Alys or Aemond. Pulling yourself up with the little strength you had, you stood up. Your legs shook, but eventually found their own as you tested your luck further. One foot on the floor, then the other, toes splayed and wiggling as they touched the cool floor. Something akin to elation came to your chest as you stomped, hiding a tiny giggle. How childish you felt now– but not as bad as you’ve felt during your recovery. You felt less than a child then, moreso a barely living organism, attached to the hip of Aly or Aemond, solely dependent on their care of you.

You grabbed the robe left on the privy lid, snugging it to your form– you considered keeping it untied, to rove around the estate free of inhibition, just because you could. But, you decided against it, tying it taut around your waist. You went to leave, hand hesitating as you went to touch the knob, remembering something… something like a shock touching your hand from before. Shock be damned, you turned the knob. No prick of electricity followed, and you were free. 

Leaving wet footprints on the wood floors, you saw the halls in a new light. ‘Twas no pretty pastel painting, but it was familiar and real. You hummed along, hand tracing the bannister like you had when you dreamt. The estate was very quiet, not even a sound emitting besides the little pitter-patter of your feet– where had Aemond and Alys gone? Surely, with the length they’d kept you, they hadn’t gone far? 

As you descended down one of the far halls you usually did not venture to, namely the Servant’s Quarters, where Alys resided, your ears pricked up to pick up a noise. Like the faraway call of an owl, deep and throaty, you could only hear, feel, the bass of it– it only got louder as you got closer to her room, the door ajar, cracked… 

Peering in, your heart momentarily stopped, breath caught in your windpipe. Alys and Aemond were upon her bed, the top three buttons of her shirt undone. You could see the swell of her breast, heaving as she mouthed Aemond’s bare neck, his tie undone slightly from its spot on his collar, but done tighter just below his Adam’s apple in… a makeshift collar, almost. The older woman pulled on it with one hand, her other down… down… to Aemond’s weeping cock. She massaged it, her hand glistening with his arousal. His face was that of pure bliss and servitude, falling apart in her hand, with her lips against his skin, whispering. 

A gasp fell from your lips and they peered up at you. Aemond’s face turned to that of horror– but Alys’ didn’t change. Her lips just perked into a further smile. “Come in, little one,” she hummed.

Against better judgment, or any judgment really, you opened the door further. Your still wet hair was stuck to your face slightly, peering up at them both through fettered lashes. You should be in hysterics, you should be crying, screaming, cursing, damning them both to hell for– for… this. But, you were doing none of that. You felt… placid, like calm water. 

Alys beckoned you closer. “See, Aemond?” she practically purred, nosing his cheek while offering her hand to you. “I told you, she was perfect.”

“My love,” Aemond croaked. “Are… you well?” 

That was the question of the year, wasn’t it? Were you well? You blinked slowly, mulling it over in your mind. “No. I’m not,” you responded, taking Alys’ hand in your own. “But, I am alright with that. We are all… unwell in our own ways.” 

“So insightful, my little puppy,” Alys pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your mind and soul were utterly enraptured by her. “She knows how to share, don’t you, sweet puppy?” she side-eyed Aemond. “The others didn’t know how to share, did they– so greedy, they were. Not like you,” she spoke of you so reverently, with a honeyed warmth in her voice you just wanted to melt into. 

Your heart was thumping at the sheer taboo of the situation, but you were excited– Alys tugged at your robe slightly, exposing your breasts to the cold air, your nipples pebbling into pert little peaks instantly. She let go of Aemond’s shaft, her hand wetted still with his excitement, offering you two fingers. She didn’t even have to say anything, you just opened your mouth as she rested those digits on your tongue, and you sucked on them eagerly. 

Aemond, all the while, was slightly aghast at it– and even more, aroused. His blood felt like it was on fire as his hand reached out to caress your nipple like he always had before, between his fore and middle finger. You whimpered around Alys’ fingers before she withdrew them, smearing your lips with your own saliva. 

“I’m so happy, my love,” Alys seemed to be addressing both you and Aemond, as she pulled you onto the bed between them, her fingers drawing little circles upon your bare thighs as your robe rode up. “We’ve waited so long for you– but it was worth the wait, wasn’t it?” her lips skimmed one side of your neck, while Aemond nosed at the other. 

You felt all encompassing, squeezed between the two of them– your brain was firing off on all cylinders, every cell of your body writhing in pleasure. “... w-waiting?” you managed to ask.

“Yes, puppy. We waited for you– all of the others were no good, defective– but you are perfect. You desire both of us, yes?” Alys asked, peering up at you.

You nodded without hesitation. 

“You know how much I desire children, but unable to have any of my own,” she murmured. “Will you have a family with us? Like a pride of lions, hm?”

You swallowed, eyes peeling away from Alys, drifting to the door, which was now open. The ghastly figures of seven women hung in the hallway, dead by many different manners. Eyes of the damned stared back at you.

“Y-yes, I want to have a family with you,” you agreed softly. You truly did want it– as you’d become so dependent on the both of them, you would do anything to please them. And you loved them both. You blinked– the figures at the door were gone now. 

Alys hummed in delight. “Oh, my sweet,” she nipped at your skin before pulling you to the side of the bed. “Aemond, I am surprised she isn’t taken with child yet– he is quite virile, isn’t he– like a stud stallion,” she giggled as Aemond came up behind you, continuing to kiss your neck. “I suppose you need to breed her more often, now that she’s agreed.”

You melted into your husband’s touch, you had missed it so sorely– he had been so quiet and solemn during your recovery, like he was mourning something. He laid back on the bed and pulled you atop him, his arousal already prodding at your folds. You ached for him, truly, sighing a little moan into his mouth as you kissed. His taste was so different from Alys’, his was heady and deep, lulling you into a sense of familiarity. Sliding you back, he slowly lowered you down onto his length, stretching you out. You mewled at the sensation, coupled with Alys palming your breasts and pinching your nipples, causing that delightful cocktail of pain and pleasure that you had chased so fervently months ago.

Cursing under your breath, you adjusted to his size, looking down at him as you rested with him to the hilt. His hand grasped your hip, eclipsing you and thumbing at your clit. You rocked back and forth on him, eyes closed for a moment in exhilaration. Once opening them, you didn’t feel Alys behind you, but now she was atop Aemond as well, her bottom half sat upon his face as he serviced her, too– ever dutiful. The sight was raunchy and erotic and made a tingle go through you as you continued your rocking motions, skin slapping upon skin as you chased your high. 

Alys leaned forward, in turn, pulling you to her. Your lips met again and she tasted just as lovely as you remember, so sweet and comforting, like honey coating your lips. The entirety of the situation was catching up to you as your peak hit you like a train, whimpering sweet nothings into Alys’ mouth, your hand squeezing on Aemond’s hip. 

Apparently your peak had started a crescendo, as Alys was next, spilling on Aemond’s tongue and rolling off of him, his face coated in the evidence of her orgasm. Something primal and feral came over you as you leaned down and connected lips with him again, tasting both him and her at the same time– you clenched on his cock that was nestled deep inside of you, and with a grunt, he spilled deep inside of you. 

‘Twas round one of four upon that night.

–

You quite enjoyed the estate, as big and spacious as it was, you suppose it could be considered lonely. You imagined it in its heyday, full of diplomats, royalty, lords and ladies and children alike– but it seemed to be a ghost of its former self. Much like you felt you were– mayhaps not a ghost. You felt more akin to a moth, emerging from your silken cocoon and spreading your wings.

Sitting upon the terrace, it was a full three years since you and Aemond had married. You watched the lawn as your twins toddled on the greenery with an abundance of toys– a boy and a girl that were just a bit over a year and a half old. 

Settling into the seat, you put a hand over your swollen belly– once again round with child. You and Alys were keen on running Aemond ragged until the estate was once again full of children, much to his chagrin– and pleasure. 

“Lemonade, puppy?” Alys hummed, nosing your ear as she offered you a cool glass. 

“Thank you, sweet,” you responded in kind, taking a sip. Your eyes followed Alys’ hand as she gently caressed your belly, pulling up a stool and sitting beside you, one ear to your stomach. She quite liked talking to the children, born or unborn– always chattering, reading stories and telling tall tales. 

Aemond scooped up the twins from the greenery, walking over to the two of you. “Say hello to mummas,” he cooed softly. 

The twins babbled little greetings to both Alys and you, who they both considered their mother. You feared for the conversation that would come in the future where you had to explain that every family was different, and not everyone had two mummas. 

But for now, you’d enjoy blissful ignorance upon the secluded estate. 

Tipping your head back, you surveyed the tall walls of the building. 

Seven windows lined the eastern inner palisade– and with those seven windows, were seven figures, staring back at you. 

[batbeato]

My partner keeps telling me to go on Tumblr whenever I launch one of my 20-10000 minute ramble-rants about Umineko at them so here I am AGAIN

Something that a lot of people love about Umineko (and I do too!) is how much Umineko centers its female characters: Umineko focuses a lot on the rich inner lives and emotions of these women, all of whom have been negatively impacted by ideals of submissive feminism and the needs of the patriarchy.

In general, in Umineko, there's this phenomenon that I don't often see elsewhere, where male characters' emotions and feelings are treated as less important, less interesting, etc. than female characters' are. This is interesting to me, and I think it makes sense - in many spaces and works, female characters are treated as caricatures - they are tragic dead mothers, loving wives, sexy girlbosses who secretly have a soft spot for the protagonist, etc. It's only par for the course that in a work where female characters are so celebrated and explored, it is male characters who suffer the fate of being reduced to more base qualities and have their feelings and emotions brushed off or waved over.

Umineko takes the concept of the absent dead wife, mother, lover and turns them into these complex, unknown ghosts who haunt the story: Kinzo's wife, Bice, Kuwatrice, Asumu. These are all female characters central to various plot points and aspects of the story, including thematic ones, but these women are very rarely, if at all, given space to truly express their inner thoughts. This is in contrast to the Ushiromiya women (Eva, Kyrie, Rosa, Natsuhi) who are so often able to express their innermost thoughts in these long, emotional sequences. Umineko doesn't allow space for these women to be caricatures, but instead seems to make space for them to be characters we simply don't have enough information on.

I think Asumu is the best example of this: she is a character with very little actual voice in the main story. Rudolf theorizes that she knew about Battler's true parentage and raised him with love regardless, but also worries that her death was due to his lies and infidelity. Her cause of death is never revealed. Kyrie talks about Asumu as a smart woman who played dumb and innocent to steal Rudolf from her, and there is the distinct concept that if Asumu hadn't died of Cause X, Kyrie would have killed her soon after. Battler sees Asumu as an uncomplicated, loving mother. And then, when Ryukishi released Last Note, we saw this different side of Asumu - an arrogant, jealous woman who took pride in her skill at puzzles and believed that she could have saved everyone, but also still a loving mother who loves her son, and even accepts her son's half-sister, Ange, in the end. Never a caricature, always cast in shadow, but with depths beneath.

But back to what I mentioned before - male characters being treated as those flanderized, flatter caricatures, with their feelings brushed off. It's very interesting to me, because it's not even just a case of male characters simply not having the screentime - they do. Battler and Kinzo get the most of it, but George also receives plenty of discussion as well.

Battler and George, however, are the male characters who I see the most flanderization of. Battler is a pathetic crying malewife twink bottom. George is a child predator who grooms Shannon.

George is a man who was raised by a hovering, overprotective mother with ridiculous expectations of him. She made him study every day and tried to instill values befitting of the power and status she hoped he would someday have into him. However, he saw how Battler, who was meant to be 'inferior' to him, getting along better with girls - even the one he liked - and grew jealous. His relationship with Shannon began because of this, but it also helped him to understand his own flaws, and he tried to change himself. Coming from a place of privilege, this is a difficult task. He also truly loved Shannon, even though he sometimes had a patronizing view of her due to his own instilled biases, and was even willing to go against his family for her. He isn't a perfect person, but he was attempting to change and grow.

Battler is a man with a deep empathy for others and is overly emotional at times - a trait I think is unfairly made fun of, given how men showing emotion is often portrayed as unmasculine, feminine, and shameful. He has a strong sense of right and wrong, and though clumsy and foolish at times, does his best to help others. He was raised by his grandparents for 6 years, so he is somewhat divorced from the privilege he now once again holds as a member of the Ushiromiya family, and makes mistakes because of that. He makes a lot of sexual jokes, but it's implied that this is due to being socially awkward after reuniting with the family he hasn't seen in six years. It's very difficult for him to truly despise someone, but once his trust is broken, even if he still loves them, it can be very hard to earn that trust back.

...I don't think the fandom needs to focus more on the male characters, per say. No one should be told they need to focus more on X than Y because enjoying X is more ethical, progressive, fair, etc. etc. But I would like to see people at least acknowledging the complexity of the male characters in Umineko more. The malewife Battler jokes are funny, I admit, but I'm tired of the child predator George jokes. Can we please leave people who ship Shannon and George alone? At this point, I'm beginning to worry about if they're alright... seeing a lot of hate for something they love can't be pleasant.

It's a general trend I see - liking a male character means you need to prioritize female characters more. Liking a het ship means you need to make it gay, or appreciate gay ships more. If a bisexual character dates someone of the opposite sex, this is bi erasure or erasing queer representation. But it's alright to like male characters, het ships, bisexual characters in het relationships, and so on. What isn't alright are the biases that are keeping queer media from receiving as much publicity, as much funding. What isn't alright are the biases that give male characters much more complex writing than female characters in many pieces of media. We as consumers can examine these things in the production and text of the works we enjoy, but I think there is too much focus on this ethical consumption of media.

...And that's how we end up making child predator George jokes - to reconcile the existence of a flawed, nuanced male character (who can and should be criticized of course) with the fact that Umineko is such a woman-central media. Umineko needs to be one of the 'good ones', the 'ethical ones'. So the male characters must be reduced to jokes, to one-liners. It is an overcorrection on a fandom level to reconcile with a society level issue, one that can harm fans of those characters and introduce toxicity to a place that should be about sharing love for a small universe we all enjoy.

(Whoops. This is why my partner told me to go on tumblr, huh?)

[banishedchildofeve]

,, warning, a rant post,,, mentions of s*x work and p*rn in our society below.

A girl at my work asked me why I wasn’t agreeing with her as she and another workmate of ours discussed modern feminism. I was listening, to be polite, as there was nothing else much to do and no customers, and not saying anything. I’m usually quiet at work, but she seemed to take offence to my silence, as if I should be interjecting into the conversation to express how much I agreed with her.

I told her that I don’t believe modern feminism is always a good thing, and before I could even explain myself, she gave me a horrid look and said “right, because it’s easier to do nothing and get all that male approval, isn’t it?”

It was mean and I blinked at her, affronted and confused. Usually people let me explain when this topic comes up and I voice my opinions, if I have to, as I like to not cause conflict. Normally, I explain how I feel, very politely, about issues that feminism has brought up for women like the normalisation of abortion, contraceptives and dangerous hormone-changing pills, not marrying or even trying to find love, ‘sex work’ being seen as powerful etc etc.

I usually use my example of “girlboss” culture to help people understand how I’m not trying to be hostile or anything, but this workmate didn’t even let me and walked off to go talk to the manager who we’re all really good friends with. The other workmate I was with looked confused too and she joked about the awkwardness of what had happened, and I brushed it off but on the train home I was thinking about it again.

I was thinking about how often wives, mothers, homemakers and nuns/sisters/friars etc. are looked down on, often by feminists because they aren’t some business woman who only wears tight office-chic blazers and gets drunk every weekend and posts bikini pics. I thought about the young girls who dream of homemaking and wifehood, and the women who choose it over a career, and who are sort of viewed as pathetic or weak or ‘old fashioned.’

I’ve been told firsthand that my dream of being a mother isn’t good enough and how I “need to decide on a real career path,” or “something other than that, at least.” I’ve been made to feel small or stupid or that I’m offending all the women across all the generations who worked hard for our rights.

And this hurts, because I love women. I look up to who I consider to be the best feminine influence in all of human history, Mother Mary, daily. And I felt confused as I thought, because isn’t it all about choice?

Why is my choice less valuable than hers? Why is my choice to abstain until marriage, not drink coffee or try this pill or that drug or this drink something that I should be embarrassed about? Why is my modest mufti day outfit at school earning me stares and causing snide remarks? Why are we bringing up girls to believe that being a p**n star something empowering, something to do to “make a quick buck.”

Why are we letting young and influential girls believe that their worth comes only from their body, their aptness at reeling in boys, the size of their boobs, the way they dress and how many drinks it takes them before they’re throwing up at a house party outside on the lawn?

Why are we letting men, husbands, boyfriends believe that their wife/girlfriend/fiancé’s body is something that they can both benefit off if they just film that one video, or take that one photo? Why is it okay for a man to watch p*rn while his wife sleeps next to him?

Why is “she has an OF,” an insult, or something that takes away from her worth? Despite the fact she doesn’t feel beautiful unless a man is complimenting her body? How is this her fault? What could she have possibly done? She’s been taught that her body is all that guys care about. She believes that if she doesn’t do this act or send that photo she is wasting his time, she’s not worth his time.

It makes me sad. I hear younger girls talk in the bathroom at work while I’m in their cleaning or whatever about how this boy sexted them this, or how this other boy’s invited her over to his house on this time and how she’s been watching tutorials on how to … well, you know.

It makes me feel sick. These girls don’t know the danger they’re in. They’re being raised in an online world where it’s trendy to wear tiny shirts and post photos of your butt.

Most of the girls I overhear talk of things like this look 14-15.

This is not their fault.

They’re not to blame. It’s the world we let them indulge in. It’s a world where they’ve seen and heard and tried so much before they’re even able to legally get behind the wheel of a car and drive. Before they’ve even taken a proper exam at school.

When our frontal lobes detach, we become so ignorant to danger. Teenagers drive fast, do drugs, dance on the railings of bridges above highways and believe they’re invincible. It’s natural, sure, to an extent. But this is the time when so much can go wrong. Innocence cannot be returned.

I hate to think of how many girls will realise just how groomed and shaped they were by this toxic culture that surrounds us as a society later on and wish they hadn’t done this or that.

I want to protect these girls. I want to comfort them and keep them from these horrible, evil ideologies and that fuel harmful industries and create dirty, satantic fetishes in which people profit and people enjoy.

I want the girls who only dream of marriage and having kids to be safe and protected. I want girls who think it’s cool to smoke cigarettes and steal their parent’s booze to be safe and protected. I want the girls who dream of being billionaires and dating 40 men to be safe and protected.

Young girls are so influential and I wish there were better role models to show them that there is life and beauty and comfort and promise in the life that is ‘old fashioned’ and ‘anti-feminism.’

There is new life in Christ, always, of course. But I really wish the evil didn’t get there first.

I want to raise my own daughters in a world where it’s not okay to watch p*rn and use social media and consider sex work “empowering.”

I want girls and women to see that their worth does not come from how they look; but from within. From their heart, from their charity, from their kindness, from their humility, from their love of helping others, from the words they choose each day.

Of course this means we must make changes now, and step by step, starting with ourselves and our behaviour and headspace and habits. Changing for good can change others for good, inspire good, produce good, spread good.

Our daughters are relying on us.

Okay rant over, God bless all who read this. I hope you’re okay.

<3

(i wrote this awhile ago and just let it sit in the drafts. sorry it isn’t structured well. i was getting v emotional when i was writing this oop lol. i’m not here to have arguments, i hate arguing and it’s even worse online w literal strangers. i just am so sick of all this evil and damage being disguised as “pro women” and “feminism” and to speak out against it is to sound like a woman-hater, which is the last thing i am. the last thing a girl my age could ever be smh).

[mugiloves]

GIRLBOSS x MALE WIFE TROPE | USAGI AND ARISU | ALICE IN BORDERLAND (2020-2022)

[ilikemicrowaves]

HEY WHATS YOUR TADC SHIPS?

SORRY MY CAPS LOCK IS ON

HELLO IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ANSWER

I'm not much of a shipper, but I usually get attached to ships I see true potential in.

So, we all know I'm THE Kaufax enjoyer, since it's pretty much the only TADC content I've made plus my au I'm still working in.

Anywho— since im a multishipper I just decided to rate th ships I remember.

Kaufax - 10/10 《 Tragic, if I elaborate more, this post would be a kaufax essay》

Ragapom - 9/10 《 Bullshit detector x I'm not fine》

Bunnydoll - 4/10 《they have a siblings dynamic in my head so it's kind of uncomfortable to me》

Chess piece - 7/10 《male wife x girlboss, but they are in a qpr to me》

Royalteeth/Kingleader - 6/10 《Silly gays. I like to think Caine has grown attached to Kinger since he's been there so long.》

ZoobleJax - 3/10 《eh. They also have like a cousin dynamic to me but also I see them platonic》

Ribbun - 6/10 《Cute, not much about them to me, honestly.》

Abstragedy - 8/10 《 feels one-sided to me, Zooble crushing on Gangle because she's nice to him.

Zomni - 7/10 《they're funny, but I haven't looked at their dynamic enough to care》

Showtime - 5/10 《pretty neutral, but I don't get the dynamic honestly》

Funnybunny - 3/10 《I see the dynamic but they have the annoying younger brother and mature and stressed older sister to me.》

Gangle x rags - 《Gangle finds her comforting and pretty, but I see it as one sided》

Ribbon floss - 2/10 《meh, don't see it》

Bluetooth - 1/10 《that man is not straight or bi what so ever.》

Sun x Moon - 5/10 《lesbians, but they feel like siblings 》

Kaufmo x pomni - 4/10 《Silly but platonic》

Ragatha x kaufmo - 3/10 《the stressed out mom friends who need to get help》

Only realizing it now that I have a lot of family dynamics because I love found family so much lol (and trauma)

[loafofryebread]

Lizzie and Joel are THE girlboss x male wife duo and no I will not take criticism