#(( and will do the same things those royals do.

[elumish]

I know everyone has different views on both worldbuilding and characterization, and especially on the idea of consistency in both, but I wanted to share my feelings on both of them (which are kind of the same! people and places are sort of the same thing sometimes).

Consistency, to me, is about three things: rules, guidelines, and lies.

Rules are things that (whether they've been told explicitly or not) are immutable. They are the law of the land, and you don't break them. You don't actually need to tell the reader what they are, but you should know what they are. They can be simple or they can be extremely complex, but they are things that you stick with. Unless stated otherwise, readers will generally assume that the rules of the real world apply to your story.

For the world, that might be "water is H2O" or "mountains will not stand up and turn into giant creatures and walk away" or "vampires and werewolves can cross-breed but only if they have sex during a new moon" or whatever. For a character, that might be "this character will not kill under any circumstances, no matter what" or "this character won't every tell their parents about that one time they committed arson." It's easier to do never rules for characters than always rules, but you can do both.

Guidelines are things that generally happen but aren't a requirement. This is where people tend to get caught up in character/worldbuilding consistency. Most character traits are going to be guidelines, not rules, because most people do have exceptions or things that change their mind or just character growth. Most things in the world don't work exactly the same way 100% of the time. But there generally needs to be an implicit or explicit explanation for the guideline not being followed, or it just feels like the author screwed up.

For the world, these might be "water isn't flammable--except in those cases where it is" or "vampires and children can't have kids, except in those super rare cases where they can" or "that one time, a mountain stood up and walked five feet and sat back down, but other than that it's never happened so we're pretty sure it'll never happen again". For a character, that might be "this character's instinct is to run away from things that scare them, but this one time they will overcome that instinct to protect someone else" or "this character is generally happy-go-lucky but right now they are deeply sad because something tragic has happened".

Lies are where it gets fun. Lies are things that you have presented as rules that are actually not. Somtimes this is because a character is literally lying to the reader or to other characters, sometimes it's because characters don't have full information, and sometimes it's because some other factor has changed.

For the world, this might be "only people from the royal family can bond with dragons because they have been genetically modified to bond with dragons--oh, actually, that was a lie perpetrated by the government to keep people from trying to bond with dragons" or "there is no eighth continent on Earth--actually there is, it was just hidden from view by magic". For a charcter, this might be "this character would never under any circumstances kill someone--except they just did."

The thing about lies is that they need to have a good in-universe reason behind them, and they can't conflict with other rules you have. I always go back to Stephenie Meyer when I think about this. Early in the series, she set up two rules that she told the reader explicitly: 1) all of vampires' fluids are venom and 2) vampires have 25 chromosome pairs, werewolves have 24 chromosome pairs, and humans have 23 chromosome pairs. The lie that vampires can't have children with humans runs into the issue that it's in direct conflict with those two rules above--but those two rules are never rescinded. So it doesn't feel like a lie so much as it feels like an inconsistency. It feels like she messed something up.

When you're thinking about internal consistency, consider:

Is something a rule, a guideline, or a lie?

If a guideline isn't being followed, is it clear why (e.g., is it an exception? character growth?)

Why was the lie a lie?

Does the lie conflict with other rules in the world?

What does the lie or the exception to the guideline accomplish?

#internal consistency #characterization #worldbuilding

[bloomingdarkgarden]

To Taste Wisteria in Her Lullaby

A contribution to @elriel-month 2024

3,2K | Angst-Pining | Azriel POV | Shameless Garden Metaphors

This one shot is decicated to @tealeaves-and-rosepetals, @wingedblooms and @deathsweetblossoms my verdant darlings. The other day we were discussing our admiration of Elain as a plant lover, and well, I decided that Azriel needs to do the same thing. Low and behold, who does he find also wondering her gardens in the moonlight?

Sleep is a word he no longer remembers.

It was always an elusive hope. 

Now it evades him entirely.

A midsummer moon spilled upon the tranquil terrace of the river manor. How two seasons had come to pass in what felt like a handful of days, Azriel did not know. Solstice was long gone. Starfall came and went.

Both had faded like dreams in the ether.

And here he was, half the year gone by.

An evening breeze sifted through the garden’s verge. Warm, decadent, indigo-rich with the scent of night.

Elain was here, in these gardens.

Not physically. But in every blossom, every delicate unfurling- she was here. Her foresight and planning, her craft in the groundwork and choice of species. Her innate ability to nourish and grow beautiful things from a dark, empty void of soil. 

From a dark, empty void of a male heart, too.

Nights like tonight were… difficult for him. Listening to pleasant banter around the dinner table for hours, contributing to it himself in a false effort to bury his own misery. He thought the need for her might ebb, after so many months had passed, or at the very least, the mourning. That cold loss of what almost was.

But the need lingered instead.

It lingered, and lingered, and lingered, always.

The eden she had cultivated in the river manor was nothing shy of extraordinary. An illustrious, dream-ridden world of wisteria, lavendula, lily and countless flowers Azriel couldn’t wholly identify. Elain tended these courtyards in honor of Rhys and Feyre, with the grandeur of the high court in mind. The blossoms chosen were a range of whisper-blue, lilac and starlight, every possible shade in between. Yet while undeniably lovely, the royal gardens were a far cry from what she chose to grow at the townhouse.

Elain did not know, but Azriel occasionally ambled through that garden, too, in the dead of night. The townhouse felt closer to her heart than this place, somehow. Closer to who she was intrinsically. A little less refined beneath the surface. Etched with softer, wilder blooms far more tangled and lovely.

He strolled silently through the furthest of the terraces, shrouded under high walls of ivy. A clock somewhere far off chimed three in the morning and Azriel made an effort not to acknowledge the implication.

Sleep is a word he no longer remembers, after all.

In the quietest hours of the night, not even his shadows could seem to muster the energy to stay awake anymore. They lulled at his shoulders, slumbering for the most part, tracing his silent footfalls. 

Which is why, as he rounded a corner lost in thought, the last thing he anticipated was colliding headlong into another person in the dead of night.

But there she was.

“Oh,” Elain murmured with soft surprise, halting her quiet steps.

She was only a half-breath away, just as taken aback as he was. The reflection of a night sky glittering in the sleepless chestnut of her eyes. So close that Azriel could count the stars within them.

They all looked as lost and lonely as those within his own.

She was clad in a soft champagne shift, a semi-transparent shawl wrapped around her slight shoulders. Her hair was-

unbound.

And the whisper of her soft curves could be seen through the moonlight.

Fuck, this was a cruel sort of dream.

His own descent into purgatory always began this way. With her, like this, in his arms. With his lips tracing a tender trail over every inch of her skin. With her being then stolen away from him by some cursed hand of fate he could never again reach.

Loose, natural waves of curl illuminated her silhouette in the dark hush of the garden. The need to run his hands through those curls would be his demise.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she explained by way of greeting.

Azriel swallowed, understanding all too well.

“I know the feeling,” he offered frankly in return.

Silence abounded.

Elain lowered her gaze momentarily, color blooming across her cheek. Azriel tried not to brand the memory of her this way- unbound, moonlit, and half-dressed- into his hindbrain for the next 700 years.

“I was just admiring your work,” he murmured, glancing to the nearby trellis.

A half-honest truth.

“I myself was doing the opposite,” she softly mused, leaning to study a stunning assortment of moonlily. “There’s much that could be improved, anyway. Though the rosaceae and mints have turned out nicely this year despite the late snow.”

Immediately, he knew Elain was exhausted. He could hear it in the drawn timbre of her voice.

He wanted to take her away.

Far away.

Somewhere he could be allowed to trace the skin of her entire body with the soft petals of her perfect primrose blooms. And whisper, all the while, that she didn’t know how to grow something that wasn’t breathtaking.

Azriel said nothing, ignoring the songs of impossible dreams. 

His shadows were awake now, observing the source of those songs. Curiously peering at her from their swirling perch.

He could hear wisteria in the lullaby of her. He could hear tiredness, and soil-ridden hands, and an ache so deep it put the sea to shame.

The song of her was as siren-dark as it always had been. Deep, haunting, and killing him slowly.

“I can’t say there is anything I would change,” he offered, “about this sanctuary.”

Elain was always most comfortable this way, speaking of plants, when other words could not be found. Or simply remained unspoken. It was a language they both knew well after countless late evenings at the townhouse. Plants were always a reason, or an excuse, they had to stay awake all night together.

That, it seemed, hadn’t changed.

“Are there any that you admire most tonight?” Elain asked quietly, stepping down a long wisteria corridor. He followed, unable to resist the urge. They slowly strolled, side by side, beneath a rippling sea of violet reverie.

Azriel motioned to a cluster of delicate flowers on the corridor’s trellis with notched, pale petals.  “This is one I admire often,” he murmured.

Night Phlox.

He knew as much from the library’s botanical volumes. Rich, detailed diagrams he was fond of combing through now again. He made a point to borrow those books every so often over the course of last winter. Just to know, just to understand the complexity of what exactly Elain was accomplishing that no one in the godsforsaken world seemed to notice.

Gardening was hellish work.

Elain finished her day bent, bleeding, and begrudgingly exhausted more often than not. No one seemed to recognize the toll it had on her. The least he could do was learn why she chose to undertake it all.

What he discovered, in the end, was that she liked the labor. She liked the marks the verdant battles left behind. She wanted to earn the beauty of a bloom, rather than being given it freely.

And Azriel began falling in love with her as a result.

“Phlox,” she offered, eyeing the flower and confirming his suspicion. “It has only just begun its course for summer, but soon you’ll see it everywhere I should think.”

“This, too, is rather taking,” Azriel strolled on, now admiring a pale blue primrose.

Elain nodded in agreement, tucking a curl behind her pointed ear. “Those are some of my favorites,” she admitted softly.

The pair crossed the end of the corridor, entering a secluded grove at the far end of the courtyard, lined with high walls of greenery. Azriel paused before a lush partition of fragrant, ivory flowers rustling in the wind.

“In regards to your question,” he murmured, “this is what captures me most.”

Elain’s gaze settled on the blooms and she swallowed, the moment hesitant.

“Jasmine,” she noted quietly. “Night blooming jasmine. Some call it poisonberry.”

“Lady of the night,” he added gently, looking at her now.

There was nothing in the world that carried a scent so lovely as that which lingered on her skin. This flower was making an honorable effort.

So there was no other choice, really.

He wondered if she knew, truly knew. And had a feeling she did.

Elain’s fingers brushed the soft petals. “What do you admire about it?” she asked carefully.

His throat bobbed.

“It is, of course, far more beautiful than the rest,” he said, brushing scarred knuckles over the jasmine stems. “But moreover it is prone to waking the moment the world stops paying attention. When all the world sleeps, this creature dreams,” he noted. “I find that rather…. alluring.”

“Alluring,” Elain repeated, a soft murmur.

He thought she might shy away, but she did not. He certainly would not. Not with her so near, and so decadent, and so sinfully lovely in the moonlight.

If that made him a self-serving bastard, so be it.

“You know more about plants than you let on, I think,” Elain muttered wryly.

Azriel’s mouth curled upwards. “You know more about most things than you let on.”

She shrugged, a grin now blossoming on her cheek, which might be the end of him. Elain was staring up at him now, openly. More pointedly, at the place just between his ear and his neck.

“You have them too,” she remarked.

Azriel swallowed, tracking her gaze. He realized she was speaking of the curls nipping against his skin, courtesy of the dew-kissed night.

“A gift from my mother,” he murmured back. “When it’s damp, anyway.”

His own eyes lingered on the ends of her long curls, pooled over her breasts, kissing against the small of her waist. Azriel craved every piece of her they could touch and he could not.

“I might also add that the scent of this particular flower is the only which bids me sleep at night,” he murmured, glancing to her beneath hooded eyes.

“Is that so?” she shifted marginally closer.

He nodded in return.

“Perhaps you might take some to bed,” she offered, eyes doe-wide. “I could cut a few stems for you.”

Azriel hesitated, but did not tear his gaze away. “Our High Lord may not approve.”

“Of taking a flower that soothes you to sleep?”

He swallowed.

“Of taking that which does not belong to me.”

Elain’s brow furrowed. She turned away, the rawness of those words having fracturing the fragile thing between them. He was desperate to have it back the moment it was gone.

She again regarded the wall of night-blooming jasmine.

“It’s true, jasmine has flowering patterns that are rather unusual. And if it is planted just days too early or too late in the season, it might wither before ever blooming. The plant is rather… delicate that way.”

“I’m not sure anything could quell the beauty of such a creature.”

Elain exhaled softly, bitterly. “I wish I had your confidence,” she uttered. “A great many enemies oppose the bloom. Disease, insects, unexpected shifts in weather- ” a pause. “I would have thought north of the wall they would be better adapted to the climate, but here, they face the same struggles they did in the human lands.”

Azriel saw the sadness in her eyes and hated himself for being the cause.

“Perhaps there are other foes aside from the usual elements contributing to their suffering,” he countered.

She looked at him keenly. “Such as?”

He swallowed, wondering how direct or indirect to be. And because he was exhausted and half in love with her, his brooding nature won out over reason.

“Invasive species taking root where they do not belong,” he muttered darkly. A terse pause. “Foxglove comes to mind.”

Elain seemed to bite back a laugh despite her own exhaustion.

“Yes invasives can indeed be problematic,” she tried and failed not to grin, “though only if the soil is willing to host them.”

Azriel swallowed, unwilling to muster a response that didn’t sound murderous.

Elain seemed to notice. And carried on gracefully, as she always did.

“I’ve found the soil of the night court rather unforgiving, anyway. When a plant roots here,” she met his eyes, “it is steadfast in its choice, no matter how ill-fated.”

His heart stopped beating for a moment.

Something aching reached for him from within her gaze, and it nearly split him in two. “What truly makes the bloom suffer most of all in the end is a lack of proper nourishment, Azriel,” she said quietly.

They weren’t speaking about jasmine anymore. They weren’t even speaking of jasmine to begin with.

He knew it. She knew it. And both seemed unable to look away.

“Why do you not find sleep?” he asked lowly.

Elain swallowed, lips parting with an answer that seemed stuck in her throat. She looked at him with soft eyes then.

“Why do you not?”

Silence followed. Heavy with sorrow and longing and all the rest.

“Elain,” his gaze shuttered, his voice barely audible.

“Was it-” she took a shaking breath, “-was it truly so wrong? So shameful to you?”

The words tore a true, gaping hole into his already-ruined heart. He stepped towards her instinctively, unable to keep from doing so.

“Nothing could be further from the truth.”

Hope bloomed eternal in her eyes and he needed to touch her again. The need was so arresting he couldn’t seem to move, on the brink of falling into an abyss.

Elain registered that need. And his inability to see it through.

So she took it upon herself to feed the need instead.

The bliss and agony of her touch was his undoing.

A gentle reach of her pale hands up to the base of his neck, resting her arms there as she twined his silk-black curls between her fingers. His hands snaked to her waist and relief coursed through him like nothing else at the warmth of her beneath his hands.

This is where she belonged.

Azriel lowered his head against hers, hazel eyes fluttering closed as that honey-rich, jasmine scent soothed every wrecked piece of him left jagged in her absence.

The silence between them fraught with a thousand lonely starlit nights.

“There it is,” Elain whispered.

Azriel murmured an inarticulate noise in question.

“The quiet,” she said, stroking the skin of his cheek. “How I’ve missed it, with you.”

She was incurably exquisite.

“I can’t,” he began, wondering if he was a fool for saying it aloud. “I can’t seem to share it with anyone else.”

“Nor can I,” she returned, without a moment’s pause.

A handful of words beneath the moonlight and he was already doing everything he swore to the forgotten gods he wouldn’t do again. Inhibition was a ghost on the wind.

Those gods had forsaken him long ago anyway.

He stayed like that for quite some time, with her beneath his hands. Listening to that blissful quiet. She stayed with him, hidden beneath the garden walls. Azriel had no idea how long they spent that way, but it would never be long enough. He opened his eyes again eventually.

And then, in those most endearing moment he had ever witnessed in five centuries of lonely brooding-

Elain yawned.

She haphazardly attempted to rub the sleep gathering in her eyes away before looking up to him softly.

He was ruined.

“I should bid you goodnight,” he murmured politely. His hands were still on her waist and they did not move.

“Should you?” she asked softly, taking her hand within his own.

This was by far the cruelest dream he had ever deigned to dream.

She pulled away, and every muscle in his body wailed in protest, though her hand was still wrapped in his own. Elain again studied the wall of jasmine with tired eyes.

“You say the scent helps you sleep,” she murmured. “You will not take it with you, so why not stay where it is strongest?”

Azriel knew he ought to contest, make some flimsy excuse, walk away.

“Elain-” he rasped, but the words went nowhere.

“Stay with me,” she whispered. “Just stay.”

Elain lowered herself to the garden floor, leaning against that wall of jasmine.

There was two hours until dawn, and no fight left in him tonight.

Azriel succumbed to the pull of her small hand downwards. He sank to the ground, pressing his back against the wall of jasmine aside her.

Elain wasted no time. In a series of impossibly beautiful events, she curled into his lap- nestling her head against him and murmuring a sigh of relief as if she, too, needed this.

Her shawl was lumped half haphazardly around her, so he carefully untangled it, wrapping it neatly before tucking her in close.

She stared up at him, and the stars in her eyes were no longer lost or lonely.

They were bright.

They were beautiful.

They were blooming.

The melody of her was immeasurably lovely, lulling his shadows back to slumber. A few of them began dancing over her skin, murmuring soft lullabies, enveloping them both from sight.

Elain loosened a soft, pleased noise at their sleepful murmurs.

“Do they always do this for you?” she asked carefully. “Sing you to sleep?”

“Often, yes.”

A quiet pause.

“Alluring,” she quipped.

His mouth quirked upwards and he ran a tender hand down the length of her back. As if this wasn’t a dream. As if she was his, and his alone, tonight.

Elain responded by gently reaching upwards to carefully tuck a single bloom of jasmine into the muss of his curls.

“I’d like to imagine feeling your shadows every night, like this,” she uttered, voice husky with sleep.

Azriel swallowed a low, strangled noise in his throat.

He took a long moment. Maybe two. She nestled closer to him, as if knowing why, finding his hand at her spine and encouraging it to stroke her all the way down once again.

“Do you know how often I’ve dreamt of you, this way?” Azriel’s words were quiet. His other hand now making its way to the base of her neck. He allowed his scent to wrap around her, truly, knowing he’d glamor it away by morning.

He wanted more, he wanted everything, but somehow, this was enough.

“I feel safe in my dreams with you,” is all she said in return. Sleep imminent in her voice. “I feel safer now than I have ever, I think.”

Fuck, that did something to him. Curled something low within him to life. Something male and possessive and needy and long since abandoned.

“You are safer with me than anyone else in this world.” The words were a vow, carried on a dark wind. A promise that he would level the universe with cold fury to keep her from harm if need be.

His hand slipped to the root of her hair and her lips parted with a sigh as he tenderly rubbed the base of her neck.

“I know it’s impossible. I know the stars are set against it. But maybe we could just pretend,” she murmured softly.

“Pretend?” he echoed, his heart beating slowly now.

Elain looked up to him, eyes dazed with lost dreams.

“That we belong to one another.”

She was asleep in five minutes. Maybe less.

Azriel finally ran scarred fingers through her curls and savored every last moment as if they might be his last. There was nothing but the jasmine-sweet melody of her crooning in his ear. Pale and bright and spilling like moonlight over the darkest nights of his life.

In the last hour before dawn he lowered himself beside her, wrapping her fully into the warmth of his chest. He cradled Elain close, and she cradled him right back, hidden beneath a veil of greenery.

“Azriel,” Elain murmured, as the birds began their luting songs in the nearby trees. He hummed a soft, deep noise in answer.

“I’m not pretending,” she whispered.

He pulled her close, closer than he knew was possible. And as the soft breath of dawn peeked over a far horizon, he did not let go.

“Neither am I,” Azriel whispered back.

#elriel #elrielmonth2024 #elriel fic #elain archeron #azriel #shameless garden metaphors #tenderness

[frankenjoly]

bram and aya +

“I think they’re staring at you.”

“What do you recommend?”

or the word ‘royal’! up to you how many to do alsjfkfj

aaaanddd i combined them :3

“What do you recommend?” Bram asked, letting Aya lead him to a table she had called her usual spot upon entering the cafe. It was a small and colorful place near her school, mostly filled by other students with their friends, but in some cases their parents too. Would that mean no one would deem him as out of place? Unlikely, given how a handful of heads had turned to follow them with little to no regard for acting inconspicuous.

Most of them thought twice when meeting Bram’s best ‘mind your own business’ gaze, though.

“Hm.” Aya tapped her chin with her index finger, clearly considering all the options, since there was apparently nothing the vampire couldn’t straight up tolerate from the place’s menu. Sure, it wouldn’t feed him either, but that had been a given since the start. Not like it bothered Bram much, not when he could still taste food. “All the cakes are absolutely wonderful, but if I had to pick just one, maybe the apple pie? Or ditch those and go for the mochis. And for drinkin’...” She stopped for a second, glancing in the same way Bram was proceeding to look at. “Oh, yeah. I think they’re looking at you.”

“Have I not done enough to…” It was now his own turn to make a pause, properly choosing the words. “... appear fairly common-looking by modern standards?” 

The clothes he was currently wearing, if maybe more fancy than the usual while looking at everyone else, were appropriate to the times and weather. He had styled his hair so his pointy ears wouldn’t stand out much. And there wasn’t much he could do about the scars crossing his cheeks but those weren’t that strange either.

So what was the issue? Was it simply because he was a newcomer there? Would people who were familiar with Aya’s presence find off-putting that she wasn’t accompanied by her actual, biological father? Or--?

Speaking about Aya, her first reaction towards the question was giggling.

“I think they don’t have any problem with your looks, but the other way around.” The giggle turned into a big, amused smile. “Don’t be too obvious if you wanna take a peek, but for example… one of the ladies over there’s downright blushin’ and all.”

“Excuse me?” To be completely honest, Bram had understood what she meant. He just needed a few minutes to process the whole situation. Or hours.

“What? Bet they’re gushin’ as if they just found one of their fave romance novel main dudes just turned out to be true. Which kinda checks out, since you’re from ages ago and have that royal vibe thing goin’ on.”

Bram opened his mouth for a second, then closed it, then opened it again.

“You know I am no literal royalty.” Plus, calling her his princess was more about devotion and endearment and… yes, maybe a bit based on fantasy stories too, like the ones he had told another certain little girl back then. But still.

“I doubt they think that either.” Aya shrugged. “Anyway, whatcha gonna do with that sudden wave of popularity?”

“I--” Bram, meanwhile, let out a brief sigh. “Honestly, I have no interest in acknowledging those.”

“Why? Already got a sweetheart and whatnot?”

“You could say so.” He had barely finished speaking, when Aya’s jaw dropped.

(Also on ao3.)

#bsd bram #bsd aya #bsd #bungou stray dogs #my stuff #clau stuff #ficlet #i love them so much you have no idea #(also i will get to the rest i'm just craving fluff for these 2 like a lot) #also also y'know where i'm going with the last part bcs i will push rarepair agendas to hell and back #also also also baby's 1st time usin the bcs that bram doesn't really get fed unless he drinks blood but still can taste any other food #(in fic since this started bcs of rp stuff aka him eating cupcakes with lovecraft for the latter's b-day)

[selenityshiroi]

Zelda travelling around Hyrule after the Calamity and people are tripping over themselves to tell her stories about the Hero because they love that feral cryptid mad man and are so proud of him

'I met him when I was about to get eaten by a Hinox...he jumped off a horse, fired 12 arrows in the blink of an eye and then got smacked in the face with a tree...but then he came back and hacked away at it's legs with this stupidly big sword until it finally died'

'He was wearing this weird patched together mask that looked like a monster but he made enough curry for everyone so we didn't like to ask'

'But...the hero was a girl? She wore these lovely green silks and every time she came out of the Gerudo Canyon she had a bag full of electric safflina to sell to Beedle over there. The Gerudo think she's an amazing fighter, which says a lot, and she always thanked me for looking after her horses when she went into the desert'

'I swear to Hylia that he ran through here wearing nothing but his underwear and a mask shaped like a leaf...claimed he was looking for the Children of the Forest. Sorry, Princess, but I'm not sure he was quite right in the head at the time'

'He used to creep in here silently wearing this grey mask and with enough lizards and beetles that we could make enough elixirs to last for a month. Not sure I ever saw his face without it'

And the entire time Link is stood neatly dressed, three steps away, listening to every word and no one pays him the slightest bit of attention. Because none of them cotton on that 'prim and proper Royal Knight' Link and 'I will defeat this Lynel with a stick, a pot lid and a bucket load of adrenaline' Wild Child Hero is the same man. Especially with how many masks he owned.

When they walk away and are out of sight and earshot Zelda just raises her eyebrow with a smile and he is like '...I can explain...it made sense at the time'

#botw #totk #zelink #because zelink vibes #i just love this duality of 'royal knight link' and 'feral link' #and i know the whole 'i don't know this man' thing is a game mechanic because they are trying to not exclude people who didn’t play botw #but i am chosing to translate it as 'he wore so many masks that no one knows his face' #and those who do just can't see him as the same man who follows zelda devotedly like a tame puppy #zelda hears all the stories and is just 'yeap that's my man ❤️' #because an inquisitive scientist and a fearless experimenter are a match made in heaven

[nordfjording]

internet algorithms pouncing on me with horse content while ive been well out of horses for over 15 years and frankly: i had forgotten how unhinged equestrians were

#this post originally said pro equestrians but lets be honest #like 70% of the amateur ones are off their fuckin rocker as well #every single horsey influencer has the exact same vibe as those #dogfluencers that raw feed and try to convince you that you shouldnt feed royal canin because mars co also makes snickers #and your dog will rot from the inside #one major reason i never got In With The Crowd when i was actively riding was that whole #'my horse and i are bonded and so i can throw whatever i want at my horse because it Trusts Me' (horse: dead inside and also hungry) thing #and im having to relive that now. because the world may have shifted but the horse girlies. they are the same. #the mile wide gap between loving your animal and respecting your animal on FULL display #stress watching 500kg hoofed animals doing their god damn best with the most reactive training methods you've ever seen. from a 19yo.

[kakusu-shipping]

I’m making a Mario Series Shipping Chart and Bowser is making it incredibly difficult to format

#Emile's Arts #Redrawing my own meme while I STRUGGLE #I shoulda made the lines darker before uploading my B #I wanna link him to Luigi and Mario and Peach and King Boo and Starlow and Broque AND still have Platonics in there as well #And it's VERY DIFFICULT ACTUALLY #You can either have Daisy in the Square and only connect Bowser to two people #Or have Bowser in the Square and not have Daisy connected to Peach #That's the delema I'm facing #I may just have to make one of those circle charts where all the lines cross in the middle even though I haaaaate those #My usual big web chart just isn't working out in this case #I could not include Familial relationships but that actually doesn't help that was just a thing for me that I wanted to do #I dunno why I made it Starlow the one asking who Bowser is she's just on my mind now #Mario Shipping #I'm not tagging all those ships btw this is just a little shitpost while I struggle that made my computer crash 3 times while uploading it #Butch Daisy and Chubby Peach my beloveds.... #This is my first time drawing Bowser btw I really really suck at it fun fact #I'll be back. Eventually. #Maybe I'll just write them all down in a post but that doesn't have the same vibe #I need you all to know they are a polycule #I call them the Royal Polycule

[skitskatdacat63]

Have to cope with the fact that most of the time I'll never be able to find a perfect ref pic bcs I have no idea how to search for it 😭

#this is why i make my own #but its so annoying bcs i have no one to make poses w me if i want it to be more than one person </3 #ive edited pics together a few times but ah never the same #how does one search for: #person resting their head on other person's lap(but like in a loyal dog type way) #courtier putting on their monarch's shoes for them in a weird obedient way #two kings being caught doing things to each other in a royal carriage with dramatic lighting #DJFKKGLGLVLVLV #will have to live on in my memory </3 #ah theres also those pose making apps like where you can play w 3d models #which arent too bad but. idk theres smrh weirdly inauthentic about them ig #they never have the fluidity of actual people #catie.rambling.txt

[just-a-little-unionoid]

I was listening to the Twisted soundtrack and now and until we have a canon dynamic, for me Lucifer and Lilith are like Ja'far and Sherrezade

#hazbin hotel #look lucifer and ja'far really give the same vibe #disillusioned dreamers who wanted nothing more than to help people but were crushed down and are now depressed and cynical #lost their wives #the only thing that matters left is their daughter #(+beautiful duet with said daughter about how he believe in her and her dreams) #(for those who haven't seen twisted ja'far raised the princess and loves her as his daughter so that counts) #(oh yeah and also both lucifer and ja'far transmitted their dreams to their respective princess and they would make better rulers than them) #(is this the start of an au? who knows‚ do that if you want i don't have the motivation) #twisted: the untold story of a royal vizier

[meneatyoghurt]

You know the 2009 comedy Make the Yuletide Gay? Well...

"Henry, darling. My best mate in the whole world. Why are you dressed like your brother?"  That's where the jumper came from. Philip bought it for him a few years ago and he never wore it. Except that one time when he went to a fancy dress party as 'provincial dad'. "Oh Christ, it's not that bad is it? This is—it's comfortable, it's winter wear. It's winter." "It's just…not really your style, is it? What's brought on the rugby shirt and frumpy knitwear? You know those half-zip things give me the ick." That makes Henry zip it up, even more self-conscious than he was a second ago. And then immediately pull it down again when the feeling of wanting to crawl out of his skin claws its way up his throat. "I'm going home for Christmas, aren't I? I'm trying to, I don't know, play down the gay." "Haz. Really."

I don't know that it will truly become anything, but I've done a quick 1k of mostly dialogue so far and I'm having a lot of fun. Especially looking up Percy Pig merch.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #wip #DO people know this film??? #both henry's parents are alive #and it won't be exactly like the film #i did contemplate putting alex in the gunn role but i'm more comfortable with henry (because...british) #sneaking in a three bean salad reference #honestly i am sorely tempted to use this same concept for at least one other fandom #(tarlos it's tarlos) #the horrible jumper is a recurring theme #those half zip things DO slightly give me the ick

[fictionadventurer]

😑

#in the mood to be petty #and block people for bad thg takes #the post is on the move again and today it's more annoying than usual #already blocked someone for mentioning battle royale #look you're not special we know it exists and it is not the same at all #i need to staple an addendum to that post that says 'the subgenre the hunger games started was books that are like the hunger games' #not dystopia #not ya dystopia #not even televised gladiator games with teenagers #but a blend of ya + dystopia + tv battles with things like fragmented factions and a hopeful message #that everyone tried to replicate but no one could because they don't realize all those tropes were in service of a message #i say it right in the post why can't people read #now someone brought up 'akshually katniss didn't love peeta and the ending is brutal' #do these people not realize they all have the same ten bad takes?? #even that time it got put on facebook literally every comment was exactly the same as the ten tumblr takes #i usually have a good relationship with that post but for some reason today it annoys me #oh i do need to praise the one guy who made a point i've never seen made in 3.5 years #and it's actually right! #they corrected a point i made and i agreed with them! #miracle of miracles!

[royalreef]

@chaosmultiverse​ inquired: “I see” Vera How my character perceives yours - Accepting

              “We are... We are one and the same, I think.

      I think. That is the stubborn thing about this, is it not? We should be. It is only reasonable, right, that we should be? We occupy very similar places in our respective societies, albeit Vera is placed within a lesser position by my people’s understandings of it, but very similar all the same. The others are not the same in the ways that myself and Vera are alike, they do not share these things with either of us, and most of our talks have to exist outside of it for proxy of what these similarities are.

      Myself and Vera both have other forces to answer to. We have people beneath us whom we are expected to command and to wield with skill, lest they suffer and die and we bring ruin to what was given to ourselves and starve us out of our own home by mass of our failure. There are expectations placed upon us, people whom we have to answer to in turn, in order to ensure the system keeps turning another day. We must keep watch over our shoulders, lest someone come to steal from our flocks, lest they poison what we promised to provide, lest they slip a knife into our backs to assume our position for themselves, claiming that they could do it better. We occupy the same orbits, visit with the same people, form deals that grow slowly and make plans that are placed with careful words and actions only as proof of what we can do. We both have to maintain a careful balance of reward and punishment, both for others and for ourselves.

      But that does not... That does not feel right, does it? This is the commonsensical thing to believe, yes, it is only rational to understand myself and Vera as one and the same, and yet it does not fit. It feels wrong to think and to say, and I am none too sure of why.

     Perhaps it is because Vera obtained her position by herself? I certainly did not ask for the title which I hold. None of my family did, none of my fellow royals ever did, and this occupies a degree of understanding among us. It is a responsibility, above all else. We are what keeps the darkness at bay, keep the population alive and happy for another day more, what is required to maintain normalcy. There is always suffering for that. And yes, it hurts, and yes, it is terrible to deal with, but it is our sacred duty above all else. Why else would we be permitted to excess, and why else would we be permitted to rule, if not tempered by the rationale of what it means to possess what we do?

      I cannot imagine ever asking for this. I cannot imagine ever trying to attain this. For a future, perhaps, for the continuation of the family line, certainly, but for the self? It is unthinkable. Alien, even. How could anyone ever progress this far, without being born into it? You have to be tempered and properly trained to possess power like this, lest you wield it with the inexperience of a child. You have to have some right to it, something which sets you apart from the rest, some proof that you can handle all that it requires of you. Not just anyone is suited to it. Even moreso that, even if a single individual was suited to it, without proper grooming, it will only be them, and their family shall fall into ruin after them.

      Who even would want that? Why would you want to be given a leash and collar to be lead around by? Why would anyone ever wish to accept the chain of responsibility? Even moreso, whoever would like what we do on its own, not as an unavoidable evil to prevent worse outcomes, not as something that you must remind yourself is earned, and that they have relinquished right to their personhood when they endangered others? All that I do is because the throne demands it, because it is necessary to its day-to-day functioning, that the world would be better off for it, that I myself am better off for it? Our other friends are afforded love by the handful, afforded to be whatever they please, do whatever they please, and not once worry about how they are seen. Why would you exchange that for this?

       It is... a stubborn thought, is it not? Why would anyone ever do this, if not bound to it by destiny? Why swear yourself to it?

      Perhaps it is like that one thing that landfolk keep bringing up, as the difference between ‘old money’ and ‘new money’? I cannot help but feel as though, even when myself and Vera are so similar, there is something... wrong. A miscalculation, perhaps, or a subtly different set of priorities.

      Either way, I truly do not wish to discuss with Vera the differences between my authority and her authority. The mere thought of bringing it up makes me... It gives me the same feelings as discussing them as those in the same position as myself, I suppose. I do not really trust it. I cannot guarantee that these things will not come back around, to be used against myself.

                                                                                    Better just to keep quiet.”

#Glory and Gore || IC #Dreaded rumors || Asks #chaosmultiverse #Make the tide rise and wash ashore corpses of cyclops || Vera x Miranda ( chaosmultiverse) #(( god i just want to put a HUGE asterisk next to everything miranda says #(( because. yeah no she is NOT being entirely honest about everything here #(( she is repeating a few things she was trained to repeat and maybe doesnt believe #(( and of course she is chronically AWFUL at talking about her feelings #(( and. yet again. all of this is getting fed through the filter of. she is SUCH a biased person in general. #(( and coming from a biased position #(( but either way #(( vera does scare her #(( specifically in the way she's afraid vera is like the other royals miranda knows and has known all of her life #(( and will. you know. act like those other royals. #(( and will do the same things those royals do. #(( and miranda does not have the language to vocalize she's afraid that her abuse will be repeated again but she DOES feel it all the same #(( to the prize pig ambition is Terrifying

[zevrans]

.

#i've had a very intense thriller like dream last night; so it was like as if i was in a movie and wasn't directly in the plot #but observing from side but at the same time i was one of the ppl this is such a weird dream thing but w/e #so the plot was there's like a group of 8 people and idk how they were tied together but it was like battle royale kind of scenario #it was known that one of the men kllled 3 women out of the group and i was either the escaping one or it was a retelling of the story #to the point how she was caught or something and all i remember she was doing her best hiding but her safe place got spotted by someone #who was cleaning windows in those very high apartnent buildings?? or wait it was a manicure master idr #but the fact that they were in the window 💀 #i wish i could remember more it was very interesting and i woke up with a strong feeling that movie actually existscmfmfm #sometimes the plot is so interesting i consider noting down but usually by that time i already forgot big chunks 🤦‍♀️🙈💀 #tbd

[fideidefenswhore]

i bought TMATL before mantel's comments came out and i feel awful about it. i wish there was a way to return the royalties.

well, you can always donate the same amount to the NCTE.

you didn't know, so don't beat yourself up about it. it's far better to learn and grow than self-flagellate.

although, one has to wonder how much bbc is REALLY 'in thrall of [the] trans lobby' (lol) if they're filming/promoting/releasing a second season based on source material of an author that has made her stance on this quite clear.

#and ...yknow. just listen . #it's nice that you're even acknowledging it bcus many haven't; or they have once and then they just kind of...move on #it is odd to see such a hard line drawn with like the harry potter verse. and jk rowling #i mean rowling is constantly promoting this agenda and does have a larger platform but.... yeah. idk. i guess everyone draws the hard line #at different places #but im not a fan of the hypocrisy #i see a lot of people mock anyone that still has HP nostalgia and some of the things people that #say they are against gender essentialism but still have it say #but they're still very attached to this series and say the same things...it's interesting #'but this is my comfort character' #they will say to even quote it is to not be supportive. but will do so with those #*this #it's always easier to mock others than to self-examine your own behaviors #i suppose because this is more a high literary series that appeals to the bluestocking crowd #but you know...mantel has/had a very large platform too #she could have used it to say anything. she chose to use it say this #i can't respect that choice. and i won't. #there were definitely some red flags that maybe some did not see as that but. again. for the future #like. 'a royal woman is a royal vagina' . #anon #also another double standard thing i've noticed between them? it's easy to say well they're bestselling international sensations; #me promoting or buying or streaming their work isn't going to make a difference. drop in the bucket #but you can't say that for one and not the other #if you're going to hold other people responsible for their consumption and who it supports #then you have to do the same for yourself. or you're just a hypocrite performing lip service for clout #and it seems very clear that you don't actually care about the people you're professing to 'defend'

[rowarn]

ENAMORED (m.)

soap mactavish / reader !

tags: established relationship, BIG dicked!soap, afab!gn!reader, virgin!soap, sub!reader

cw: loss of virginity, squirting, size difference, teasing, pet names, praise, wet&messy, missionary, mating press, cunnilingus, fingering, pussyjob, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie

note: this is the fic from the pwp royale i posted recently! loss of virginity won so here's the result!!! MDNI.

; with a too-big-cock, he hasn't managed to lose his virginity yet. until he shares a sweet little moment with you, the love of his life ♡

5.7k words

Soap had been thinking about this for ages. He had been in positions like this before, without a doubt, with previous partners. 

But there was something deep inside him that was breathless over the fact that it was you situated so cute in his lap, dressed all cozy in some clothes you had left over at his place from a previous night you had spent with him. You two had been dating for some time now but he had done his best to avoid being in this predicament because he was worried it would end the same as it had with everyone else. 

Even though Soap was 28, charming and had a lot of luck scoring dates, he was still a virgin. It was the most embarrassing little fact about him. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course. In fact, all his teammates in 141 were positive he’d gotten laid more times than he could count. But bringing a pretty thing home from a bar always ended the same for him – with them scurrying out of his door with their clothes bundled in their arms the second he pulled his dick out. 

So to say Soap was nervous right about now was in understatement. 

You were so warm against him, smelled so lovely that it made his heart flutter in his chest. Everything about you was so intoxicating that he was terrified this was going to end the same way it always had with other partners – with you becoming intimidated and fleeing with your tail tucked between your legs.

He was so enamored by you that he didn’t think he would be able to cope if you walked out on him like everyone else. 

You pulled him out of his head when you cupped his stubbly cheeks, pulling him in for a deep kiss. His hands flexed against your hips, tugging you even closer on his lap. He was growing harder and harder underneath you and he silently prayed that you didn’t feel it. 

Your hands trailed down to his chest, pressing your palms flat against the firmness there as you deepened the kiss. You sighed sweetly into his mouth, dipping your tongue in to taste him as he eagerly kissed you back. His hands weren’t idle either, going from squeezing your hips to kneading your thighs, bared from your shorts.

Suddenly, he pulled back, eyeing the string of spit that connected your lips before smiling at the way you were panting from a kiss. 

“Can we do…more, Johnny?” you ask softly, rolling your thumb over the scar on his chin.

“Are you sure you want to?” he fires back, meeting your gaze under his lashes.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you smile, adjusting yourself in his lap and he has to fight to hold back the groan from how good the pressure feels even though he’s still confined to his jeans, “I love you. You love me. Of course I want you.”

The way you say it so simply and sweetly makes him smile. He suddenly takes hold of your chin and tugs you close so your forehead rests against his, “I’m not goin’ to lie, sweetheart. I…” he nervously cleared his throat, “I’m a big guy.”

You blink owlishly at him for a moment, “You mean like…”

Your hand slips further down his chest and he quickly intercepts it, taking your hand in his with a nod of his head. Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth and he can see the way your pupils dilate. 

“Okay…” you whisper, “You can just…work me open, yeah?”

His lashes flutter at those words, a groan getting caught in his chest. His hands find purchase on your waist, easily hoisting you up and tossing you onto the other end of the couch before crawling over you. He immediately begins kissing your neck and you eagerly let your head fall back so he can have more access. His chest is pressed against yours, pinning you down with his weight alone as his hands continue to caress your thighs which are splayed open around his hips. 

His cock is painfully hard in his jeans, throbbing with need when he realizes you've started trembling under such simple touches. You lay there so sweetly underneath him, arms splayed on either side of your head letting him touch you and see you however he wants. Pliant.

“So sweet…” he coos, muffled with his lips pressed against your pulse point. 

You sigh contentedly, heart hammering in your chest when his hands finally move north and start pushing your shirt up. Slowly, over your belly button, over your ribs, catching on the swell of your breasts before you lift your head and let him strip the material off. He tosses it somewhere in the living room but neither of you care where it lands. 

“Shite…” he groans when he leans back on his heels, eyes landing on your bare breasts, “You’re somethin’ special.”

Before you have the chance to offer anything in reply, he's got his lips wrapped around one of your nipples. One hand supports his weight beside your body on the couch and the other carefully slips under the fabric of your panties.  You eagerly spread your legs even more, anticipating his touch where you need him most but he doesn’t make any further movements. 

His hand falls completely still, fingertips resting just above your clit, just the slightest twitch down and he would be touching the little bud. 

His tongue eagerly swipes over the pebbled bud of your nipple that’s trapped in his hot mouth. You let out low sighs of pleasure, mindlessly arching your hips up in hopes to get him to move that damned hand lower — but he refuses, intent on teasing you with its presence so close to where you needed him.

He's got you wound taut, tense and aching for him. He dips down and you think he's going to give you what you want, but instead he uses two fingers to peel your folds apart. You feel like the air gets punched out of your lungs, thighs threatening to twitch closed but are blocked by his hulking form in between them. You can hear the sound of your folds parting, wet and sticky and it makes his cock fucking throb. 

“You’re so wet, you hear that?” he teases, popping off your nipple with a crooked grin. 

“Shut up,” you intend for it to come out biting but it comes out weak and soft, which only makes his grin broaden. 

Your hole clenches pathetically around nothing, drooling and leaking into your panties. You feel like you could cum if so much as a breeze brushed over your clit. You've never been pushed so close to the edge from someone teasing you like this. 

One of your hands finds purchase in his mohawk, tugging the short strands so he is forced to meet you in a heady kiss. You whimper into his mouth and his free hand cups and gropes your tits in his large hand, massaging the soft flesh as he eagerly kisses you back. As you kiss, you attempt to rut your hips up in hopes of getting him to slip between your folds and make you feel good, but it doesn’t work and he chuckles. It’s cute you think you can distract him like that. 

The kiss is messy and sloppy, strings of spit connecting your lips when you finally part to take a breath. You look up at him with a dazed, heady look to your eyes that has him pecking your lips once again before descending back to your breasts. You cry out in surprise when you feel the nip of his teeth against the bud. As he tortures you with his mouth, he takes the chance to tug your shorts down your legs. You eagerly lift your hips to help him rid your body of the offending clothing, tossing them to get lost somewhere alongside your shirt.

Once you’re bare, you let your legs butterfly open, giving him a full view of your completely bare body. 

You’re practically panting when his hand slinks down your body once again, parting your folds with that sticky sound that has heat flushing to your cheeks, much louder now that there’s no clothing blocking it. Soap’s eyes drop to your pussy, index and middle finger holding your labia apart so he can see how your clit throbs and your hole clenches pathetically around nothing, drooling down to the couch. 

“So pretty,” he coos, wishing he could roll his thumb over that pretty little clit just to watch your body twitch from the pleasure but he’s on a miss.

He surges forward again to kiss you, soaking in your happy sigh at the little affection, but it doesn't last long before he's mouthing his way down your body — nipping and suckling at your skin as he makes his way further and further down. 

His large, callused hands grip under your knees and pin you embarrassingly wide open with your knees to the couch. He kisses up your inner thigh and over your pelvis, stopping to press his lips against your hip bones before his tongue dips down and swipes over one of your labia. 

Your taste lingers on his taste buds and he practically moans at the feeling. You gasp, hands flying to his mohawk when he gives the other side the same treatment, cleaning up your mess with his tongue. 

You desperately attempt to rut your hips up, whining with your need to feel his touch properly where you need him but he backs off and waits for you to sink back into the cushions in defeat before pressing a kiss above your clit. His pretty, blue eyes watch every pout and furrow of your brows that crosses your face from his teasing. 

He can tell you’re getting frustrated and needy – just the way he wants you. The fact you’re so pliant and at the mercy of whatever he’s willing to give you is intoxicating. You’re so sweet for him. 

It feels like hours that he torments you, kissing around your thighs and lapping over your folds but never giving you what you actually need. He continues to clean up any mess without actually touching where you desire him most, simply savoring your juices on his tongue. 

Your clit aches, twitching with need as it begs for just the slightest touch from him — something to put you out of your misery. 

“Johnny…” you pathetically whimper, fisting his t-shirt, tugging him closer in hopes of getting him to give you what you want.

His long lashes flutter as he looks at you, “What is it, sweet one? Something you want?” 

“Need,” you correct hastily with a tearful glare. He thinks it’s supposed to be intimidating but he only seems to find the display cute.

He laughs softly, a charming smile crossing his face as he looks completely endeared by you, “Need, huh? Are you always this needy?” 

“Only for you, Johnny!” you whimper, moving your grip on his shirt to his hair again, hoping it’ll give you more leverage but he doesn’t budge. 

He laughs softly, “That’s right, little one. Just for me.”

You feel so on edge, like he’s worked you up to an orgasm without ever actually touching you properly. He thumbs your folds apart, leaving the needy little bud open and exposed to his greedy gaze. You wish so badly he would just breathe against you so you could experience something more than this mind-numbing teasing your boyfriend has subjected you to. It’s pathetic, you realize, wishing for so much as a breath against your bud. But there’s just something about Johnny that always has you hanging on everything he does. You’re enamored, in love.

That thought has you whimpering, sinking back into the cushions of the couch.

“So sweet,” he coos dismissively, smile only widening as you tearfully glare at him.

His gaze darkens at the sound of a sob tearing through your chest and he bites his lower lip when his cock fucking throbs. He didn’t really think he’d be the type to enjoy seeing his partner cry and he’s not even sure he would be into it if it was anyone but you, but here he was. 

Soap thinks you look so precious like this, defeated and waiting for his next move.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he commands suddenly, chastely kissing your navel when you finally meet his gaze, unfocused and tearful, “There you go, good. Don’t look away now, okay?”

You nod your head, finding yourself getting lost in his unwavering eye contact. His pretty blue eyes and long, soft eyelashes that you could simply marvel at for hours. He was so handsome and all yours and that alone made you even wetter. Your boyfriend was on top of you, giving his all in making you feel good. 

As you're lost in thought and his eyes, his fingers finally dip down to where you need him most, pressing the pads of his digits against your clit. The little bud is so hard and sensitive that the small amount of stimulation has you toppling over the edge immediately. 

Your eyes remain open and locked with Soaps as you cum with a weak cry of his name. His fingers gently circle your clit, sticky, wet circles over the bud to ease you through the high. 

When you finally slump against the couch, thighs twitching against his sides through the aftershocks, he pulls back. Your eyes flutter closed, panting from the exertion of your orgasm. You’re practically boneless as Soap suddenly moves you trembling legs over his shoulders. 

His gaze falls to your swollen, pulsing cunt. Your folds are covered in a slick film and he can still see the way your clit and hole throbs, drooling your cum messily with every clench. Your eyes flutter open, cheeks heating when you see how intently he’s staring at your pussy.

“Don’t stare…” you whine bashfully, voice dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Can’t help it,” he gives you a crooked grin, “You’re so pretty here.”

You whine at his response, kicking your foot against his back in retaliation.

Suddenly it's like all rational thought flies out of his head and he's pinning your knees to your chest. 

You gasp at the change in position, “Johnny!” 

He chuckles at the way you sound shy, as if he didn't just have you cumming underneath him a minute ago. 

The feeling of his breath against your sensitive folds is enough to make your thighs twitch in his grasp. He makes a show, when he finds you looking down at him through your lashes with your chest rising and falling from how hard you're breathing, of letting his tongue fall from his mouth. 

Slowly, he descends, sliding his tongue between your slick folds. You practically wail, your back bowing against the couch when his tongue swirls around your clit, suckling it into his mouth. Your head slams against the couch cushion as your eyes roll back in your head, your hands gripping at his mohawk as you wail his name. 

“Johnny! Johnny! Johnny!” you squeal, legs kicking and flailing at the feeling of him eagerly slurping at your clit.

He backs off for a moment, releasing your bud with a lewd pop. You're panting and trembling, your knees still pressed against your chest, open and vulnerable for him. Your precious cunt is now coating in a slick film of your own cum and his spit.

“Keep yourself open for me,” he commends with a sharp look that makes you immediately do as you’re told. Your trembling fingers grip under your knees, hugging them to your chest. 

He spreads your folds apart with his thumb before his mouth finds its place there again, eagerly slurping up your cunt with a moan. He desperately eats you, swirling his tongue over your clit and dipping it into your clenching cunt to taste your juices. He's messy and sloppy, drool and your cum dripping down his chin and neck.

You cry and tremble beneath the onslaught of his tongue, he introduces two fingers, swiping them against your drippy entrance. You barely even seem to notice, too distracted humping your clit against the flat of his tongue when he lays it flat out for you. 

“Oh, Johnny!” you cry out, toes curling in your fuzzy socks the closer you get to your second orgasm, “Don't stop! Please, don't stop, Johnny!” 

He moans against you, the sound and feeling of it sending you over the edge. When he feels your clit throb on his tongue, he finally slips those two fingers inside you. The feeling of suddenly being stretched and filled sends you flying even higher. Soap has to use his body to hold you down as you kick and squirm from the overstimulating pleasure of having his thick fingers crooking inside you, grinding against that gooey little spot. 

“Johnny-!” you cut yourself off with a deep, long moan as you messily squirt all over the front of his shirt. 

Johnny continues to grind the tips of his fingers into that tender little spot inside you until you simply can’t take it anymore and shove him off with a weak cry. Soap pops the cum covered fingers immediately into his mouth as he watches you twitch and tremble against the couch, tearfully staring up at him. 

“Too much, sweetheart?” he asks, once he’s cleaned his fingers off.

You nod, taking a deep breath, “I-I’ve never…” you trail off and he quirks a brow. 

“Never squirted?” he finishes and you nod, “Well, I’m honored then. I guess we’re even.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, finally uncurling yourself from your position with a weak grunt, opening your arms to pull him close to you, finding yourself needing his touch.

His cheeks heat up, realizing it’s time to finally tell you his little secret, “Well…it’s my first time.”

“Making someone squirt?” you offer him a soft smile but it quickly fades when he shakes his head.

“No, I mean…” he clears his throat, “I mean havin’ sex.”

Your eyes go wide, “Really? But you’re like…really good with your tongue.”

He chuckles softly, forehead falling against your chest, shaking his head, “No I’ve got a lot of experience in foreplay. It’s after that I’ve never gotten to.”

You sit up at that, shock apparent on your face, “You’re a virgin, Johnny?”

“Aye,” he solemnly nods, trying to hide the embarrassment that bubbles under the surface.

“But how?” you question, “You’ve dated a lot. You’re good looking and kind.”

He grins at your praise, “I told you, little one,” he sighs, figuring now would be a good time to properly warn you about what you’re getting into, “I’m a big guy. Most people get scared off.”

Your brows come together in confusion, “Really?”

He nods slowly, carefully watching your face for any signs of apprehension. But you only continue to look confused. 

“Will you show me?” you finally ask. 

“You want to see…?” he finds himself stumbling over your question, heart hammering in his chest when you eagerly nod your head.

Wordlessly he sits up on his knees, fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans. You can see the outline of his cock pressing against the material and he does look big but you want to see him completely. 

He unzips his jeans and reaches inside, hissing at the feeling of his hand wrapped around his neglected length. He finally pulls his cock free, twitching at the feeling of the cool air against him. He’s been leaking precum profusely, incredibly turned on from making you cum twice. 

“Johnny…” you whisper breathlessly, eyes wide as you stare at his length wrapped in his fist, “Holy shit.”

“I told you,” he smiles crookedly but deep down he’s nervous. 

This is the moment that will make or break you. Either he finally gets to be with you, the person he wants to share his love with the most, or you give him that terrified look and go scampering away. 

You reach out and knock his hand away, replacing his grip with your own. His breathing stutters when you give him a few, slow strokes. Your hand is so much smaller than his, unable to touch your fingers around the girth of him. The sight has him biting back a moan because fuck you’re so much smaller than him.

“You’re going to have to really prepare me, Johnny,” you playfully glare at him from under your lashes. 

His brows shoot up in surprise, “You mean you…”

“I love you, Johnny,” you smile softly at him, “I want this with you. Just…take your time, okay?”

“Of course,” he swallows thickly, quickly batting your hand away and urging you to lay back once again. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss, “Let's go to the bedroom.”

“Yeah, yeah we-we can do that,” he stumbles over his words foolishly, making his ears burn red in a way he hopes you don’t actually notice. 

After some stumbling and giggling, the two of you quickly find your way to his bedroom. After shutting the door, you crawl onto the bed, relaxing into the pillow, looking like his own little piece of heaven all naked on his sheets just for him. 

He strips himself where he stands at the foot of the bed, tossing his shirt into the hamper in the corner before letting his jeans and boxers pool at his feet. 

He’s on top of you before you know it, bringing you in for a kiss. As you eagerly spread your legs to accommodate his big frame, he reaches between your bodies and grips his cock again. Your entire body tenses up when you feel him pressing the tip against your folds.

“Johnny, no,” you whine, pressing against his chest, “Y-You’ll tear me open if you try to–”

“Not tryin’ to get it in, pretty baby,” he coos, “Jus’ trust me, yeah?”

You watch as he swipes the head through your folds, sliding the length between them, rutting his hips. You gasp as he grinds over your clit, making your whole body twitch from the stimulation. You’re still sensitive from the previous orgasms he had milked out of you. 

Before long, he pauses.

“Look at that,” he grins, “That’s how deep I’ll be.”

You feel your cunt clench pathetically at the sight of his length resting over your pelvis. You know that when you take him all the way, he’s going to be prodding painfully at your cervix. But you know you’re going to love every second of it. 

Not only is he long, his girth is amazing. You know it’s going to stretch you wide, you can practically feel the phantom burning feeling you know will accompany it. His cock is uncut, messily drooling all over your skin. The prettiest fucking cock you’ve ever seen and it makes your mouth water. 

“Think you can take it?” he teases, playfully tapping the heavy length against your clit. 

You whine and nod, “W-Want you to make me take it, Johnny.”

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” he chuckles softly, “Aye, we’ll make it fit, little one.”

Soap’s hand finds its way between your thighs again, two fingers prodding at your entrance as his other hand cups one of your breasts. You lay back in his pillows, staring up at him like he hung the moon and the stars as he stretches you open on those two digits. 

You’re pillowy soft and wet inside, pretty cunt making sticky clicking sounds as he fucks you with them. Your cum coats his skin and a creamy mess begins to form at the last knuckle when he works that tender little spot up top. 

Before long, he’s introducing a third finger. He slowly presses it in alongside the other two, stretching you open carefully and methodically until all three digits are pressed inside the tight clutch of your cunt. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he encourages, “Open up for me so I can give you my cock.”

You whine at that, “Want your cock, Johnny.”

He groans, pressing a kiss against your knee, “I know you do, sweet thing. Jus’ let me stretch you open for it, yeah?”

You nod and toss your head back, working your hips down against his fingers. He carefully fucks you with them, spreading them inside so you get used to the feeling of being stretched and filled for when the real thing is finally pressing inside. 

Fuck, the thought makes his cock ache. 

His thumb sneaks up and presses against your clit. The extra stimulation makes you clench around them like a vice and you moan so sweetly for him. He can’t wait to feel that around his heavy cock. 

“Johnny, please!” you cry, “I want you already.”

“Fuck, alright, sweetheart,” he grunts, pulling his fingers from inside you with a wet sound. 

He wraps those slick fingers around his length, smearing the mess across the soft skin. It’s embarrassingly desperate, the way he grips your hips and yanks you closer to him. You gasp at the forceful handling but quickly relax into the sheets when he leans down and kisses you again. 

As you’re occupied with his lips and tongue, he grips the base of his length and carefully begins to prod at your entrance. You whimper into his mouth when he starts to press inside.

Just the tip of him is a lot to take and you can't help but wince when that fat head finally pops inside. Soap feels the way you jump and quickly pulls out, biting back a groan when he sees wet, sticky strings of your cum and his pre connecting his cock to your cunt.

He uses the head to circle your clit, making you sigh in pleasure before he’s pressing back inside. This time he, when the head pops inside, begins rolling your clit under his thumb to soothe the ache.

“Just relax,” he coos, slowly circling the bud as he sinks more and more of his length inside. 

The stretch stings and he fills you up more than you’ve ever experienced before. He feels so heavy and hard inside you and his finger on your clit makes you reflexively clench and spasm around him. He moans at the feeling, pretty blue eyes rolling back as he feels half his cock being hugged. 

Before long, he’s balls deep, deeper inside a cunt than he’s ever been in his life. Its euphoric for him. A painful ache settles in your stomach from how he’s prodding against your cervix. He stills, watching your furrowed brows as you get used to being stuffed full of his cock for the first time. 

It dawns on him suddenly that he’s lost his virginity. To you. He’s got his fat cock buried in the one person he adores more than anything on this Earth. 

He’s overcome with affection, surging forward to press his lips against yours. You whine when the angle change makes him press even deeper inside you but you kiss him back anyway. 

He pulls back slowly, “Just relax,” he assures you again, “That was a lot, huh? You took me so well, pretty.”

After a few moments under his careful caresses and kisses, you relax into the bed. Blinking blearily up at him, you flex your hips and stir his cock inside. You whimper at the feeling and he slowly pulls back so only half his length is left inside. 

“Pretty,” he mutters, “P-Pretty and fuckin’ wet.”

“Johnny…” you sigh sweetly, clutching at his sheets as he begins to fuck you in earnest. 

Your tits bounce in time to his thrusts and he can’t take his eyes off them. He’s still a little shell-shocked from having you speared on his heavy, aching cock. He can’t believe he’s got the sweetest thing creaming around him, crying his name. 

“Johnny!” you cry sharply, hands flying to cup your own tits. 

Your eyes are wide, almost like you’re shocked, “What is it, pretty?” he asks, panting.

He watches in wonder as you toss your head back, squealing and trembling. You’re cumming, he realizes. Squeezing and clenching around his cock like a vice. 

“Shite,” he moans, hands trembling as he grips your hips, helping you rut against him as you cum, “‘S it, ride it out for me. Cummin’ nice and hard, hm? Barely even did anything and you’re creamin’ all over me.”

You whimper, eyes rolling at his filthy words. You slowly sink back into the bed with a heavy sigh, heart racing as you stare up at him. Soap loves seeing you like this, covered in sweat and twitchy from how hard you came from nothing but his cock stuffed inside you. 

“More, please, Johnny,” you whine, locking your ankles around his back, locking him against you, “I want more. Please make me cum again.”

He scoffs in disbelief, pressing his hands on either side of your head on the bed, “You just came and you want more?”

“Yes, please?” you ask softly, batting your lashes at him. 

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers, slowly grinding his hips against you, making sure his pelvis grinds against your clit, “I’ll give you whatever you want. This cock’s all yours now, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, “All mine, Johnny. ‘S all mine. You’re all mine. L-Love you so much.”

“Fuck!” he growls, fisting his sheets as he works his hips faster and faster against you, “Love you too. Love you, love you, love you.”

He can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed at his babbling. All he can do is work his hips against yours, listening to your pretty moans and the slick sounds of your pretty pussy being fucked. 

Your back arches and you reach between your bodies to circle your clit with trembling fingers. His jaw drops at the sight. He never thought he would have the chance to see a sweet little thing like you working themself to orgasm on his cock like this before. 

“Sweet baby,” he whines, sounding broken and completely broken, burying his face in your neck, “You’re so wet. You’re makin’ such a mess around me. Pretty cunt’s so wet.”

You sob at that, eyes rolling as you toss your head back. You can feel another orgasm brewing, heating your skin and making you tremble underneath your boyfriend's massive body.

“Johnny, please!” you wail, feet kicking against his back.

“What? What do you need?” he pants, drooling against your skin from where his face is still buried.

“Please!” you cry again, pressing against his shoulders to push him back. 

He looks dazed, completely fucked out and stupid from having his cock fucked for the first time. You grab his hand and shove it between your thighs. He quickly picks up what you need and starts rubbing your clit.

“This what you needed?” he pants, “Needed me to play with this pretty clit so you can cum nice and hard again?”

You squeal, jaw falling open as you back bows off the bed. He moans at the feeling of you soaking him, gushing and squirting against his bare chest and all over his hand. His mouth practically waters at the thought of getting to taste you as you cum again.

“Already?” he gasps, “So fuckin’ sensitive, cummin’ so easily for me. Fuck, so good for me. I’m gonna cum, baby.”

You nod your head, still shaking from your orgasm, “F-Fill me up, Johnny. Please. Want you to cum inside!”

“Fuck, are you sure?” he gasps, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

You nod your head, “Yes, need it, Johnny.”

He fists the sheets on either side of your head as his entire body begins to tremble. His hips lose their rhythm and with a few more, weak rabbiting thrusts, he’s cumming. He cries your name, rutting his hips against yours. The movement causes him to grind against your sensitive clit, making you whimper and twitch beneath him. He grinds painfully against your cervix from how deep he is but it’s worth it to see the pretty way he cums inside you. It's a hot, thick load that fills you up and oozes out the sides of his cock and drips down to the bed. 

Afterwards, there’s a stillness that falls over the two of you. The only sound you can hear is the faint hum of the TV in the living room and the heavy panting between the two of you. 

Soap can’t think of anything to say, all he can think is to lean down and press his lips against yours. He wraps his arms around your body, holding you close to him as you cling onto him, still trembling. 

“Love you so much,” he whispers, muffled against your lips because he’s not willing to pull away.

“Johnny,” you whimper, “I love you.”

He smiles crookedly, pecking your nose and forehead over and over again before you’re giggling and pushing him away. 

With his cock softened, he slowly and carefully pulls out of you, both of you wincing from how sensitive you are. Your thighs are still open and he watches as his cum oozes from your thoroughly abused cunt. His hand slides up your thigh, nearing your folds but you quickly slam your thighs shut, trapping his hand between them. 

He looks up to find you glaring at him, “Don’t even think about it.”

He grins crookedly, shrugging his shoulders, “What’s the matter, baby? Don’t fancy a go again?”

“After that?” you cry, throwing your head back to laugh, “I’ve never cum so much in my life, Johnny!”

“Ah, you really know how to boost a man’s ego,” he chuckles, flopping onto the bed beside you. 

He pulls you close, tucking you against his side, “Hard to believe that was your first time.”

“Aye,” he hums, kissing your temple, stroking your back slowly, “I’m glad it was you.”

“I am too, Johnny,” you snuggle close to him, kissing his bare chest.

There’s a quiet that falls over the two of you. Your breathing slowly begins to even out and he quickly realizes that you’ve fallen asleep. He hugs you closer, protective instincts urging him to keep you safe while you’re well-fucked and vulnerable like this in his arms. 

His heart skips a beat when his gaze lands on his night table, remembering the ring he’s got hidden away within. He wonders when he’s going to grow the nerve to finally ask you to wear it. 

DO NOT REDISTRBUTE, TRANSLATE, OR MODIFY. DO NOT RECOMMEND ON TIKTOK.

#john soap mactavish smut #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #soap smut #soap x reader #cod smut #cod x reader

[artsy-waffle19]

okay but imagine being Linda in this situation like: you got married a while ago but he turned out to be an alcoholic and just generally a bit of a loser so as soon as you aren't at risk of being homeless anymore you divorce him and it may be tough but at least you got your two wonderful children out of it and you decide you're going to raise them into good, responsible, polite and hard working people. They've always been a bit different, your daughter is neurodivergent and gets along with horses better than with people and your son is a really polictically active gay musician who probably wants to sing at some point in his life. Neither of those things are paying really well but you'll be damned if you don't support their dreams. So you make them work hard at school so you can get them into this really popular and renowned boarding school where they can follow their dreams. All of your good parenting and support pays off and they actually get into said school.

Within a year both of them get involved in a national sex-scandal involving the royal family, your daughter sets a building on fire and now owns a horse and a car apparently, while your son briefly dealt with drugs, fistfought a guy, changed the schools anthem and also made the current crown prince abdicate by being a bit too woke and cute at the same time. Also the school closed down due to all the shit your children were involved in and your son owns a lot of money now.

Like- Linda really just released two well raised children into the upper class and watched the system crumble. Queen behaviour nobody is doing it like her.

#young royals 3 #young royals season 3 #young royals s3 #wille young royals #simon young royals #young royals #young royals spoilers #young royals 3 spoilers

[sylhea-raemi]

frey being in lune because ulysses suggested him to go there, lapis and nero sent to lune by shatoma's order, and makia who wants to study magic in lune....

#my point is the four of them are in lune because of the involvement of the great magicians #makia although was there because she chose to be there and her parents sending her there— she counts because she's the scarlet witch #gt9 is a group formed by one of the great magicians... #so even though those three have NOTHING to do with the 10 great magicians whatsoever they are still involved bc of their relations with #some of them. the same goes for airi who was friends with scarlet and black's second lives and the one kanon chose as the savior #this chapter is so important you don't understand and the fact that it's the first chapter in volume 5 says so much #nero being revealed as a prince and the last gt9 member whose secret revealed is the beggining of a LOT of things to come #also not to mention that this whole twilight invasion was done at the same time the top student's name (def nero) was gonna be announced #and the fact that the twilight mages *saw* nero's eyes and recognized him as a prince will definitely make them more alerted since now #there is a possibility that hermedes will be taken back by a legitimate member of its royal family #also the fact that out of everyon in gt9 only nero knew about a war breaking out in the future bc of kanon and the fact that he's the only #non-reincarnated person to possibly know of shatoma kanon and eska (and the green priestess) past lives as one of the great magicians #and he might possibly know about ulysses as well because of his connection to eska and the green priestess #so anyway nero holds a lot of valuable information in him #sylhea talks maydare