#i think his abilities have far reaching abilities

[rmview]

dating another member’s older sibling, ATEEZ.

featuring — ateez members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — an imagine of how the ateez boys sneak around when they’re secretly dating another member’s older sibling!

contents — fluff, no warnings.

hong ★ joong

hongjoong prided himself on his ability to keep a secret, and dating yunho’s older sibling in secret was no exception. he knew the chaos it would bring if yunho found out — he could already imagine the loud accusations and awkward silences. but that didn’t stop him from stealing precious moments with you whenever he could.

one afternoon, you had agreed to meet hongjoong in a quiet café across town, far from yunho’s usual haunts. he was already seated in the corner, a baseball cap pulled low over his face, when you walked in. his face lit up at the sight of you, and he couldn’t help but reach for your hand under the table once you sat down.

“you’re late,” he teased, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

“traffic,” you replied, rolling your eyes before grinning. “yunho almost caught me leaving, too. he asked where i was going.”

hongjoong smirked. “what did you tell him?”

“that i was meeting a friend. which isn’t a lie, technically,” you said, leaning closer.

hongjoong chuckled softly, but his expression turned serious. “we need to be careful. he’s not stupid, and if he starts connecting the dots…”

“i know,” you said, squeezing his hand. “but this is worth it, joong. you’re worth it.”

he smiled, his heart swelling with affection. moments like these reminded him why he was willing to take the risk.

later, back at the dorms, hongjoong nearly had a heart attack when yunho suddenly asked, “have you been texting someone a lot lately? you’re always grinning at your phone.”

hongjoong kept his face neutral, glancing up from his laptop. “just group stuff. you know, schedules and all.”

yunho narrowed his eyes but didn’t push further. hongjoong let out a quiet sigh of relief. it was a delicate game they were playing, but as long as he could keep seeing you, he’d find a way to make it work.

seong ★ hwa

seonghwa wasn’t one for taking risks, but dating san’s older sibling secretly was an exception. he couldn’t bear to stay away, even if it meant sneaking around and dodging san’s sharp eyes.

one evening, you and seonghwa were sitting in his car, parked on a quiet street near your house. the windows were slightly fogged up from the cold, and seonghwa’s fingers brushed against yours as he passed you a cup of coffee he’d brought.

“san’s been suspicious lately,” you said with a sigh. “he keeps asking who i’m spending so much time with.”

seonghwa frowned, his brows knitting together. “what did you tell him?”

“that i’ve been busy with work,” you replied, shrugging. “but i don’t think he bought it.”

seonghwa’s lips twitched into a small smile. “you’re a terrible liar.”

you nudged him playfully. “i wouldn’t have to lie if you’d just tell him.”

“and deal with san glaring at me for the rest of my life? no, thanks,” seonghwa said, chuckling. but there was a nervous edge to his laugh.

he reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “i hate hiding this, but i hate the idea of losing you even more.”

your heart melted at his words, and you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

when you finally pulled away, seonghwa sighed. “we’ll figure it out. i just… i need a little more time to figure out how to tell him without it turning into a disaster.”

yun ★ ho

yunho never thought he’d be the type to sneak around, but dating wooyoung’s older sibling required a level of stealth he hadn’t known he was capable of. the problem wasn’t just that wooyoung was protective — it was that wooyoung had a way of knowing everything.

one afternoon, yunho met you at a secluded park. you’d brought a picnic basket, and yunho spread out the blanket while keeping a wary eye out for anyone who might recognize him.

“this feels like a spy movie,” you said with a laugh, handing him a sandwich.

yunho grinned, his dimple showing. “yeah, except i’m a terrible spy. if wooyoung ever caught us, i’d fold in five seconds.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “he’d probably strangle you first and ask questions later.”

yunho laughed, but the thought clearly made him nervous. “i wish we didn’t have to hide,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “i want to be able to hold your hand in public, take you out without looking over my shoulder.”

“we’ll get there,” you said, squeezing his hand. “wooyoung will come around. eventually.”

yunho nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. that evening, back at the dorm, wooyoung flopped onto the couch next to him.

“you’ve been acting weird lately,” wooyoung said, squinting at him. “anything you want to tell me?”

yunho’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced a laugh. “weird? me? nah, you’re imagining things.”

wooyoung eyed him suspiciously, but yunho quickly changed the subject. as nerve-wracking as it was, sneaking around felt worth it when he was with you. one day, he’d find a way to make it right. for now, he cherished every stolen moment.

yeo ★ sang

yeosang was meticulous by nature, so sneaking around with seonghwa’s older sibling wasn’t something he took lightly. every moment together was carefully planned, from choosing meeting spots far from prying eyes to ensuring his phone notifications were silent when you messaged him.

one evening, the two of you were huddled in a corner booth of a small, dimly lit café. yeosang had chosen the spot specifically for its privacy. his fingers lightly traced circles on your hand as you sipped your coffee.

“seonghwa was asking about you today,” you said, your voice low.

yeosang froze for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “what did he say?”

“that i’ve been smiling a lot more lately,” you replied, grinning.

yeosang’s lips twitched upward into a small smile. “you do have a beautiful smile.”

you rolled your eyes playfully, but his compliment made your heart flutter. yeosang’s gaze softened, and he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“i hate that we have to hide this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “but seonghwa would never let me live it down if he found out.”

you leaned closer, resting your forehead against his. “it’s worth it, though. you’re worth it.”

yeosang smiled, a rare but genuine expression, and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

later, as he returned to the dorm, seonghwa glanced up from his book. “where’ve you been?”

“just out for some air,” yeosang replied smoothly, though his heart raced.

seonghwa didn’t seem convinced but didn’t press further. yeosang exhaled quietly, determined to keep your relationship under wraps a little longer.

san ★

san loved adventure, but sneaking around with hongjoong’s older sibling was a thrill of a different kind. it wasn’t just about the secrecy — it was about the stolen moments that felt like they were yours and yours alone.

one night, san picked you up in his car, driving out to a secluded spot by the beach. the two of you sat on the hood of the car, watching the waves crash against the shore.

“i almost got caught today,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

san turned to you, his eyebrows furrowing. “what happened?”

“hongjoong saw me texting you. i had to pretend it was a work thing,” you explained, laughing nervously.

san winced but chuckled. “you’re a terrible liar.”

you swatted his arm, but san caught your hand, intertwining your fingers. “i’ll tell him,” he said, his tone serious. “i just need to figure out the right time.”

you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “i know you will. just… don’t wait too long, okay?”

san nodded, his free hand coming up to brush your hair back. “i won’t. you’re too important to me to keep this a secret forever.”

as the two of you sat there, the sound of the waves filling the silence, san knew he’d never let anyone come between you — not even hongjoong.

min ★ gi

mingi wasn’t exactly subtle, which made sneaking around with wooyoung’s older sibling a challenge. but despite the risk, he couldn’t stay away from you.

one evening, the two of you were sitting in his parked car, sharing takeout and laughing over something ridiculous mingi had said.

“wooyoung would kill us if he found out,” you said, half-joking.

mingi paused mid-bite, then grinned. “probably. but it’s not like he can stop me.”

you laughed, but the nervous edge in your voice didn’t escape him. mingi set his food down and reached for your hand. “hey, don’t worry. i’ll handle it when the time comes.”

“you make it sound so easy,” you muttered, leaning back in your seat.

“it’s not easy,” mingi admitted, his voice softening. “but you’re worth it. every single risk, every sneaky meetup — it’s all worth it.”

your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned over to kiss him.

later, back at the dorm, wooyoung eyed mingi suspiciously as he walked in. “you smell like perfume. who’ve you been with?”

mingi froze for a split second before forcing a laugh. “must’ve been the lady at the takeout counter. she was wearing a lot of it.”

wooyoung didn’t look convinced but didn’t press further. mingi let out a silent sigh of relief, already counting down the hours until he could see you again.

woo ★ young

wooyoung wasn’t one to do things halfway, whether it was performing on stage or sneaking around with seonghwa’s older sibling. the thrill of keeping your relationship a secret only made it more exciting for him, but there were moments when even he felt the weight of it.

one afternoon, the two of you met at a small arcade in a quiet neighborhood. wooyoung had insisted on the location, saying it was “too random for anyone to suspect.”

“come on, just one more game,” he pleaded, holding up a token.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile. “you just want another chance to win after i crushed you last round.”

“crushed me?” wooyoung gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “it was pure luck!”

as the two of you bantered, he leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “you’re really enjoying this, huh?”

you grinned. “maybe a little.”

wooyoung’s playful expression softened as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “i just love seeing you happy,” he murmured, his tone unusually tender.

before you could respond, your phone buzzed. you glanced at the screen and froze.

“who is it?” wooyoung asked, peering over your shoulder.

“it’s seonghwa,” you said, your voice tight. “he’s asking where i am.”

wooyoung’s eyes widened, and he quickly ushered you out of the arcade. “we need to go. he knows my hangout spots too well.”

as the two of you hurried down the street, wooyoung chuckled nervously. “this sneaking around is going to give me gray hair.”

“then let’s tell him,” you said, stopping in your tracks.

wooyoung hesitated, looking into your eyes. “soon,” he promised, taking your hand in his. “just give me a little more time to figure out how to survive the fallout.”

despite the tension, his sincerity made your heart flutter.

jong ★ ho

jongho was the steady, reliable type, but even he wasn’t immune to the chaos of sneaking around with yunho’s older sibling. his practicality and calm demeanor often clashed with the secrecy, but he couldn’t imagine giving you up.

one evening, the two of you were sitting in a quiet park, sharing a bag of snacks under the dim glow of a streetlamp. jongho’s hand rested casually on your knee as he told you about his day.

“yunho almost caught me texting you earlier,” he said, his voice calm but laced with a hint of amusement.

your eyes widened. “what did he say?”

jongho smirked. “nothing. i told him i was texting a friend, and he bought it.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “you’re so chill about this.”

“i have to be,” he replied, squeezing your knee gently. “if i panic, you’ll panic, and then we’ll both give ourselves away.”

despite his calm exterior, jongho’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “i hate hiding this, though. you mean too much to me to keep you a secret forever.”

you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “then let’s tell him. what’s the worst that could happen?”

jongho chuckled softly. “yunho giving me a lecture for the rest of my life, probably.”

the two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while before jongho spoke again. “i’ll tell him soon,” he said, his voice steady. “i just need to figure out how to do it without ruining everything.”

as the night wore on, jongho walked you back to your car, his hand never leaving yours. despite the secrecy, his quiet confidence and unwavering presence made you feel like everything would be okay.

notes: interesting request! thank you anon, and i hope this was to your liking <3

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Sometimes I wonder what it had to have been like, being Zelda holding Calamity Ganon at bay. Like, we've seen Zelda get turned to stone in other games and I imagine that's like just being put in a coma. In Twilight Princess, Zelda's spirit is transferred to Midna to save her life, so I assume she's basically like halfway traveling with Link and Midna for the duration of their journey after that, in some kind of half haze but also vaguely following along. Other "imprisonments/comas" for other Zeldas include being put in a magical slumber in Adventure of Link, which, again, is sleeping. I don't know all the Zelda situations, but these seem to be the majority of them. Even Tetra gets the Coma Treatment.

So, it stands to reason, then, that BotW Zelda is just in a state of magical slumber then, right?

But she isn't. She wakes Link, she talks to him, can see where he is and what he is doing. This girl was awake and fighting for one hundred freaking years.

Now, granted, I do think that time felt very different for her. And I'm sure the initial phase, where her power over Ganon had him nearly entirely contained, was probably far more akin to some kind of trance-like state. But as her control slipped, she awoke more, and gosh how wild and awful that must have been.

But you know what else this makes me think of? Skyward Sword Zelda. To my knowledge, she's the only other Zelda who had to go into some kind of trance like state to maintain or seal something away, like purposefully enters that state rather than being imprisoned like that. And, again, it just seems like she's sleeping - she even asks Link to wake her up. But if BotW Zelda went through a similar state and started waking up on her own as her power faded, what if Skyward Sword Zelda had something similar happening to her? Did she start to lose her strength and come to consciousness a bit, despite having no ability to return to her body or break out of the prison she sealed herself into? She must have been starting to weaken in that regard, because how else was the Imprisoned breaking free and requiring Link to seal it away once more, multiple times? I wonder if this Zelda could have reached out to Link but chose not to so she wouldn't interfere with his mission?

And then I also wonder about the time differences, about the power differences. Because BotW Zelda was a powerhouse, subduing and fighting Calamity Ganon for one hundred years with no training, just sheer grit the instant she got her powers. But then there's Skyward Sword Zelda, who the moment she got her memories back, knew what she had to do, and maintained the seal and therefore fought Demise for thousands of years.

I don't know, I just have many thoughts.

[saltyowlets]

Companion!Cullen Precursor: Romance

I know I haven't touched Companion!Cullen for a long bit, mostly cause I've been thinking about my own Cullavellan and tackling his redemption in their story but I do want to comeback to it, especially now.

So heres a small tidbit of what I eventually want to tackle: Companion!Cullen romance.

I know it's a small point of contention, whether Cullen should have had a romance or not, with all there considering his lyrium addiction and his PTSD. I am on the side that a romance is possible, but to have a satisfying and redemptive end for Cullen, it would require some leg work for that romance that we just aren't provided in game.

So, in order to mitigate this, I propose that in Companion!Cullen's romance is similar to a secret romance that is only accessible by very specific and pro mage means.

For starters, I do not think him being a romance while still being pro Circle or pro Templar is healthy, if anything, it may even be a detriment to his growth. Cullen is a man who needs to be challenged to fully change. I'm not saying that he couldn't change to be better on his own. He definitely has the ability to. However, we are looking for full redemptive Cullen in the DAI narrative. How does this work with Companion!Cullen specifically?

Approval system. Or rather, something similar to the rivalry system.

I think in order to access Cullen's redemption and subsequent romance, you have to challenge him, gain disapproval. There would be prompts that involve choosing pro mage choices, conversation prompts with Cullen that challenge and maybe accuse him of the things that happened in Kirkwall. This becomes the precursor to Cullen's deprogramming. If you keep gaining approval and do not challenge him, this only just leads to Cullen on the path of feeling justified by his pro Circle sentiments. He will still sympathize with the mages/apostates and will lament and regret how he acted but he will still remain adamant that the Templars are necessary or, at the very least, a justification.

Continuous disapproval will lead to specific scenes, depending on choices, that allow you to get Cullen to open up and discuss what happened in Kinhold and Kirkwall. There may some flirt lines but nothing that would seem like you forgive him but reach an understanding. Eventually, you gain approval with Cullen from these scenes as it becomes reflective that 1. He is changing, 2. He appreciates that you are challenging and not just excusing his actions because that is who Cullen is. He is a man who knew he did wrong and does not want to be easily forgiven.

Anyways, this is what I have so far but I'll eventually write more. Feel free to let me know what you think!

[unascended]

BEING SPURNED SHOULDN'T HAVE STUNG SO PROFOUNDLY. It was as if he'd been stabbed. Where normally pain required that Astarion have an iron grip on his overt emotional responses, he'd been free to express himself for far too long. What (horrors) wonders being free for a couple months could do for his ability to reel it in.

He could go limp and pliant and allow his body to be used, but he couldn't take a little rejection?

"Wait." It was a snip delivered with a cold hand held up between them, but it was firm. He needed to take a moment, and he couldn't have Sylverian slithering off before he could respond. Astarion's jaw clenched, and rather than look at the hurt painted on Sylverian's face, he leaned over to retrieve the clean underwear he'd forgotten to put on after he'd scrubbed himself clean. Fishing them from a neatly folded pile of clothing, he set about pulling them up his legs and - he reached for a blanket. He didn't want to be clothed, nor did he want to be exposed.

If he swaddled himself, he'd be safer for it. Sylverian wouldn't be tempted to come back to his body as if he were sorry he'd said no.

Wrapped tightly in a rather exquisite fur, he finally turned about-face, scrutiny evident in the wrinkle of his brows. No one had ever said no to him before.

He'd always been the one who -

And no one ever -

He had two choices. He could remain angry and snap at Sylverian like a cornered animal just as he'd done all day, or he could give up the act. No, he couldn't afford to spill it all, not right now, but this... this wasn't working. Hells, if he were being honest none of it was but he couldn't think of a single way to cough that whole vile business up that wouldn't end horribly in one fashion or another. Either way he had to stop this. What he was doing. Preferably all of it, but he didn't want to.

Funny that. If he were deluded enough to believe Cazador was a god he may have thought Sylverian was put in his path to torment him.

"Sex is... complicated for me." Astarion admitted, fighting against his urge to simply throw Sylverian out of his tent and be done with this whole mess. "I feel desire sometimes. Often at times you might find inappropriate. But I - well... Cazador had me use my body to lure him the prettiest things I could find."

This was ugly. He should make this innocent man leave before he was eternally scarred. He couldn't. The dam was broken. "I never had a say in what anyone did to me. Or with my body. I never had the luxury of saying no. Not unless Cazador allowed it to entertain his guests."

He was spitting and snarling, perhaps, but for once it wasn't at Sylverian. This wasn't Sylverian's fault. He was right to stop this. He was right and he was kind and it had thoroughly complicated his simple plan.

This time when he reached for one of those warm, pink-tinted hands, it was with a tenderness so genuine that he wanted to gnaw off his own tongue. "Thank you. For what it's worth I do want you. But being touched, it... brings back those feelings of disgust and fear. I disappear into myself. I don't know where I go but I..."

Something in Astarion's voice breaks and he released that soft hand, body rolling to face the wall of his tent and exposing his bare, scarred back to the man beside him. "I was wrong to do that to you. To lie so you'd touch me and I could avoid what you asked me for. You are under no obligation to forgive me, or Gods forbid pity me. But you want this, right? This is what you wanted."

There are several moments spent in shameful silence, red eyes burning holes through the canvas of his tent. So much honesty feels almost as if it's torn him open and left his entire being as a gaping wound on the stone floor of the kennels. It's happened again. One wrong word and he was being defiled.

"I don't know if I can be what you think you see in me, Sylverian. I would do unforgivable things to be free of him."

He already had.

SYLVERIAN WAS TOO ATTENTIVE A LOVER, too in tune with those he shared intimacy with for this shift in energy to go unnoticed. It didn't just brush against his awareness ; it crashed over him with such startling intensity that it left him momentarily breathless.

Astarion was upset.

Was the thought of simply being together and holding each other so upsetting to Astarion?! Was Sylverian’s company, when they weren’t having sex, so unpleasant?!

And suddenly — perhaps because Sylverian was such a bleeding empath and so easily swept away by the emotions of others, or perhaps because he was still overwhelmed, or perhaps because something felt so terribly wrong, or perhaps because of all these things at once — he felt anger stir. It coiled hot in his gut, unsettling and unwelcome, and before he even realized it, he was shying away from Astarion’s touch.

❝I don’t want… this,❞ he said, his voice sharper than intended.

He swallowed hard, his anger dissolving as quickly as it had risen, leaving behind something softer. Something raw and aching. His voice now wavered, quieter, unsure.

❝I… I feel like I am just a reprieve for you,❞ he admitted, his thoughts tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. ❝I don’t judge you for it. I have done the same, when fear stole my rest and only your touch kept the nightmares at bay.❞ Without Astarion, the tadpole and everything else would have been too much to handle. ❝But I meant what I said before, that I want to try, and I don’t think you truly give me a chance———❞

He stopped himself before he could say anything else, his gaze faltering, his fingers toying with a lock of his golden hair to anchor himself. Gods, the tent felt stifling all of a sudden.

Outside, the last remnants of daylight had given way to night.

❝I… forgive me,❞ he murmured at last. This was all so confusing. ❝It has been a long day. I should rest.❞

[ellenchain]

I have another lore question :P

How much of viktor's new body is illusion and how much is just hexmaterial he controls as an extension of himself? I'm just thinking about how he kinda just willed away the clothes...where they never really there to begin with or were they just him shaping himself to look presentable?

Hihihi, that's a very good question!

I'm actually wondering the same thing tbh, because in canon Viktor has been given abilities that can probably be answered simply with ‘magic’. How does he manage to turn human bodies into machines? We see during the transformation that he randomly takes metal parts from the environment (?). But in the end, they merge with the body in a very visually appealing way.

The dolls at the end also all look pretty much the same - so he must have some kind of ability to turn flesh into metal. That made me think and come to the conclusion that he can probably influence materials as a mage now.

In my head, after his journey through the Arcane, he's fused with the rune that gives him the same abilities as the hexcore, just without the corruption. Which means he can still influence... bodies? Materials?

So I guess his body is real, infused with the Arcane (with its many scars), but he can mould environments to his liking. Like, he can also change Jayce's clothes. Pulverise, so to speak. Maybe reabsorb it as magical energy. Perhaps he can also conjure up clothes?

That all depends a bit on what abilities he has canon-wise. But as I understand it… Viktor can change materials 🙃

So unfortunately I have to take away the idea that he's permanently naked and his clothes are just an illusion 🤭 but who knows? Perhaps one day he will decide to give everyone only an illusion of himself? I'm sure he'd have a lot of fun with that!

[cestacruz]

Mmm Jeanne

[shadowtraveled]

"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

[dammit-sammit]

instructions unclear about whether we’re judging their ability to serve cunt or be a cunt here. I love them both very much but they are both pretty insecure and use picking apart other people’s insecurities as a first defence mechanism so I think if you put them in a room together, previously undiscovered heights of MLM hostility would be reached. And then they would both be sad and need a hug.

If we’re talking about *serving* cunt then I’m sorry I think this is a draw.

They are both very loveable little jerks though. OP’s decision to pit two bad bitches against each other was very cruel but very shrewd.

People who only vote for characters they recognize I rebuke thee

[manmuncher777]

Imagine Trying to take the strongest in bed

All talk…

“With all due respect, you couldn’t handle me sweets.” That was what Gojo had said to you. You were offended. It was late and you were just sat drinking in your room. You weren’t drunk, but you were buzzed. Both of you were, and now the conversation had taken a bit of a… turn. “What?! I could, it’s you who couldn’t handle me.” You exclaim, slightly offended that your friend thought so little of your abilities. This had all started when you said you reckon Gojo was a bottom. Much to his dismay. You even went as far to say you would have him whimpering. But he didn’t get defensive, he just laughed it off. “What makes you think you’re so good anyway?” You huff at him

“Why don’t I show you?” A sly smirk on his face. The air thick with tension.

And that’s how you ended up Riding Gojo on your couch. “F-fuck- Satoru~” You moans cut off each time you sunk down on his cock again. Your body chasing the oxygen that you were losing by moaning his name so much. His Thick Cock slipping in and out so sweetly with each roll of your hips. His lower half covered in you slick, vulgar sounds of your wetness echoing in the room. “What’s wrong sweets? Thought you could handle it?” He coos in your ear, the teasing words only to be met wit with a pathetic whimper from you. You thought you could handle it too. But you never expected Satoru to be this big. And you didn’t expect that teasing smirk and honeyed voice of his to have such an effect on you while he was balls deep.

Your legs were quivering now, Struggling enough to straddle his muscular figure, and take his earth shattering cock. He had turned his hips just right so that it would reach the deepest parks of you. His red wrapping tip hitting that delicious spot inside of you that had you begging for more. You were mesmerised by his dick, brain turned to mush as you could do nothing but cling on for dear life. But your stamina was no match for Gojos Your legs faultering, trembling under the pleasure and stopping their movements. “Oh? had enough?” Satoru watched you with a smirk as you writhed around, trying to resume your movements You cry out pathetically, not even able to form words in this moment. Lifting your hips only for them to fall back down in exhaustion. “Oh come on, surely you can do better than that?” He whispered to you, a chuckle leaving him. He on the other hand was fine, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat, Hands resting on your hips as you rode him. Of course it felt fucking good, He had to hold himself back when he first sank into your wet cunt, but his stamina was through the roof, so he could take a lot more than you. You were only now just figuring that out. “Satoruu~” You whine for him. silently begging him to help you, to fuck you.

“Really? tapping out already?” His sly voice slipping its way into your brain, the sound whirling around in there, fucking you deeper into your messy state.

You were practically paralysed from his dick, unable to hover now. You body’s only movement was the heavy breathing and the pathetic clenching of your pussy around Gojo’s thick cock. It was the only thing you could do, the one thing you couldn’t stop yourself from doing. Even as your body was giving up on you, you still craved his cock.

“‘Toruu~ Help..” You whispered, not fully trusting your voice. It was a simple beg, but filled with so much need. Your pretty little face now staring up at him, arms shakily doing their best to support you as you gave him your best puppy eyes. Batting those lashes of yours and tears brimmed in your eyes

When you looked at him like that he could hardly say no.

Those hands that rested on your hips now dug into the fleshy skin tightly, lifting you up from his cock as if you weighed nothing. Only his tip remained in your sweet hole.

“s’okay baby, Toru’s gonna help. Just relax f’me” he whispers sweetly in your ear, the usual cocky tone now removed from his voice as he spoke. He stared into your eyes, watching your face before he started to piston his hips into yours. Holding you up, slowing himself to move with ease as he fucked you faster than you were ever capable of moving. Shit, you should’ve done this from the beginning.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours sounded in your ears, as soon as his vigorous movements started you couldn’t take it anymore. Your arms buckling at you just hug tightly onto his body. Your face bruied in his neck, moaning loudly, without a care as he fucked into you.

His thick cock basically bullying your welcoming walls. The juicy tip of his cock hitting that same spot over and over again. Fuck he should’ve done this from the start. Gojo bit his lip, trying to restrain the groans that were still escaping him, feeling your walls practically mould to every grove of his cock.

“Oh fuck- ‘Toru~ fuck fuck fuck. S-sloww” words flying out of your mouth before you could even form a proper sentence. This was probably the best sex you had ever had

“Slow? Nuh uh baby, this is what you wanted. So you’re just gonna take it for me, ‘Kay?” Small kisses, sloppy kisses were trailed up your neck and back as best he could. Trying his best to concentrate. But the way you were squeezing him so tight had his resolve failing. His brushing grip on your hips only tightening with each sensual thrust he planted inside of you.

You had never been more wrong in your life than you were earlier. Gojo was completely right, you couldn’t take him. You couldn’t barely match Hi stamina, this was only the first round and you were a drooling mess. With any other guy you’d be bored at this point. But Gojo was definitely keeping you on your toes.

“Oh.” A gutteral moan left the white haired mans lips. “You close already baby?” And that fucking smirk was back in his tone again. The worst part being he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He knew that the way hes humiliating you has you foaming at the fucking mouth for him.

You were in awe. How the fuck has he picked up on that before you. Only after he had mentioned something is when you started to notice that effect build in your abdomen. That coil that was wound so tight you were sure you were going to snap in half if you didnt cum soon.

“Fuck- please please!” You cry out, affirming his thoughts of your impending orgasm. His pace didn’t faulter, not once. Like he knew exactly what to do to get you there. You couldn’t comprehend how he was keeping this brutal pace so well. He didnt even sound out of breath.

“Shhhh, I know sweets, feels good huh?” Fuck yeah it felt good

It felt fucking good when you came all over his cock. When the wave of pleasure crashed over you, your muscles tensing as it wracked over your body, leaving you trembling. It felt fucking good to let your mind just go blank as you screamed your friends name. It felt good when you drenched his torso in you juices, you had never came that hard before in you life. His hips continuing their movements as he helped you ride out your high

You stay snuggled into his neck, breathing in his scent. It was his expensive cologne, ever so slightly tinged by the musky smell of sweat and sex. Fuck it was a good smell. After your whimpers died down, so did his thrusts as he gave you a moment to regain yourself. You couldve quite happily remained there for the rest of the night, sleeping. But you became aware of something, he was still hard. He hadn’t even cum yet. Your hips absentmindedly shifting slightly, still sensitive from your orgasm. Only to be stilled by the strong hands holding your hips. He pushed himself balls deep, pushing you onto him as far as he could.

You whimper at the feeling, it was like he was in your throat. Your body still reeling from its orgasm as you try to shift away from the intense feeling.

“Oh no, don’t try to run baby.” Kissing sweetly on your head as he mutters into your hair. But you can hear menace behind that, you can hear his shit eating grin “Im not finished with you yet.” You whine at the prospect of another world shattering orgasm

“Thought you said you could take it huh? Or were you all talk?”

(ARTS NOT MINE!!!! CREDITS TO ORIGINAL ARTIST)

[luv-lock]

⸻ ꜱ ᴘ ɪ ᴅ ᴇ ʀ ɢ ɪ ʀ ʟ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere Batfam x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How is your relationship with batfam in general?

Notes: Reader is a pervert. Reader have the same abilities as spiderman. Again another silly fic that should not be taken seriously. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

At 22, you were a far cry from the scrappy little thief Bruce and Dick had caught all those years ago. Sure, you were still crass, still brutally honest, and still had a penchant for letting your intrusive thoughts win, but now? Now you were hot.

Like, objectively hot. Your tight black spider suit left very little to the imagination, clinging to every curve and muscle as you swung through the city. And you loved every second of it. The attention? Oh, the attention was your lifeblood. You basked in it like a lizard in the sun.

Dick was still wearing those tight pants, wasn’t he? You couldn’t help but stare. I mean, seriously, the guy had a killer ass. You were supposed to be on a mission, but all you could think about was how the suit hugged his figure in ways that made you forget everything except your growing thoughts. You even compared your ass to his when he wasn’t looking—just to make sure you were still in the running for the Best Butt in Gotham.

“Hey, Grayson,” you called out, voice dripping with amusement. He turned his head slightly, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Nice ass.” You grinned, winking.

He blinked. “What?” He stopped walking and spun around, completely thrown off by your bluntness.

“Oh, nothing, just admiring the view,” you shrugged, taking a step forward and pretending to actually pay attention to the mission. His cheeks turned red, but you didn’t care. You were busy eyeing his backside like it was a prize you were about to claim.

You convinced Dick to teach you yoga, but it wasn’t for flexibility—it was so you could watch him stretch.

“Wow, Dick,” you said, laying on the mat and pretending to follow his moves. “You’re really… bendy.”

He flushed. “It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not,” you teased, snapping a quick photo of him in a compromising pose. “This one’s going on the Batfam group chat.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare!”

You were bleeding out. Your side was burning, your vision blurry, and yet you were having the time of your life. Why? Because Jason Todd—walking sex god and part-time vigilante—was carrying you in his arms like you were a damsel in distress.

“Don’t worry,” Jason said, sprinting through an alley as explosions sounded in the distance. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine.”

You stared up at him, dazed but grinning. “You’re so pretty.”

“Y/N, stay awake,” Jason barked.

“I’m awake my angel,” you slurred. Your eyes drifted downward to his broad chest, the tight shirt doing little to hide the muscle underneath. You reached out, resting a hand on his pec. “You got...man boobs.”

Jason groaned. “You're hallucinating, stay awake please.”

“They’re perfect,” you whispered, leaning closer. And then—because you were you—you bit him.

Jason skidded to a stop, staring at you in disbelief. “Did you just—”

“I couldn’t help it,” you said, grinning despite the blood trickling down your chin. “They’re so biteable.”

You discovered Jason was ticklish purely by accident, and you never let him live it down. Anytime he annoyed you, you’d jab him in the ribs or poke his sides until he squirmed.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he growled, swatting at your hands.

“You wish,” you said, chasing him around the room.

The rest of the Batfam watched in stunned silence as Jason “Red Hood” Todd ran from you like a child.

You declared the Batcave chair yours one day and refused to let anyone else sit in it.

“It’s my throne,” you said, lounging dramatically as the others stood around, glaring.

“Get up,” Jason said, crossing his arms.

“Make me,” you replied, sticking your tongue out.

He grabbed you, but instead of throwing you out, you ended up on his lap, smirking. “Guess this works too.”

Anytime you were in the middle of a Dick and Jason argument, you somehow always ended up physically between them. And, oh, you weren’t complaining.

“Move, Dickhead,” Jason growled, pushing into your right shoulder, his broad chest pressing into the side of your face.

“Not a chance, Hood,” Dick snapped, leaning in on your other side, his own muscular frame trapping you against Jason.

You? You just stood there, smiling like a cat with a bowl of cream. “Ooh, I love this. It’s like being sandwiched between two very attractive brick walls.”

“What?!” they shouted in unison.

Jason shot Dick a death glare. “See what you did? You’re giving her ideas.”

“Me? You’re the one pressing into her like some kind of Neanderthal!”

You just smirked, leaning back into the tension. “Don’t mind me, boys. Please, continue. This is very entertaining.”

Dick was your favorite pillow, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime you were hanging out in the Batcave, you’d just casually rest your head on his shoulder or lean against his chest.

“Comfortable?” he asked, chuckling softly.

“Very,” you replied, closing your eyes.

He smiled, wrapping an arm around you. “Good.”

You peeked up at him, grinning. “You know, you make a great pillow. Very firm, but also soft in the right places.”

Dick laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” you said, smirking.

Dick’s ass was basically your personal stress ball at this point. It didn’t matter if you were on a mission, in the Batcave, or just walking through Gotham—if the opportunity presented itself, you’d take it.

SMACK!

“Jesus, Y/N!” Dick would jump, spinning around, his cheeks flushed.

“What?” you’d say innocently, shrugging. “It’s just so perfect. You work hard for that, right? I’m just appreciating the effort.”

He’d sigh, rubbing his neck, but you knew he secretly loved it.

Jason’s chest was another favorite of yours, especially when he was shirtless (which, let’s face it, happened a lot). You’d walk up to him, your fingers twitching, and—pinch!

“Damn it, Y/N!” Jason would glare at you, rubbing the spot where you’d gotten him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” you’d say with a cheeky grin. “Just checking if these are real.”

He’d groan, shaking his head, but you’d catch the tiny smirk he tried to hide.

You loved teasing, and nothing was off-limits. During a mission, your suit "mysteriously" ripped—right in front of Jason and Dick.

“Oh no,” you said innocently, looking over your shoulder at the tear just below your back. “Guess I’ll have to fix this later.”

Jason’s jaw tightened. “Y/N, stop.”

Dick looked away, flustered. “Maybe cover it up or something?”

“Why? You guys can’t handle a little skin?” You smirked, adjusting your suit to make it worse.

Jason grumbled, “I’m about to shoot that suit off you if you don’t stop playing.”

You had zero shame. Once, during a stakeout with Dick, you leaned over and kissed him right in the middle of his report to Bruce.

“Nightwing, report—” Bruce’s voice came over the comms, but you cut Dick off with your lips, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Y/N!” he protested, his face red as he tried to pull away. “Bruce can hear us!”

“So?” you replied, shrugging as you went in for another kiss.

The first time you met Superman, you were not prepared.

“Y/N, this is Clark Kent,” Bruce said, his tone clipped as ever. “He’s Superman.”

You blinked up at the man of steel, all 6’4” of farm-boy perfection, and immediately zeroed in on one thing: the bulge.

You weren’t subtle about it either. Your eyes widened slightly as you stared, your head tilting to the side like you were trying to calculate something.

Clark, oblivious, smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you. Bruce has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered, still staring. “Damn, you’re packing. Your wife must be so lucky.”

The room went silent. Bruce closed his eyes, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm. Clark cleared his throat, cheeks turning bright red.

“What—what does that mean?” Superman asked, clearly flustered.

“Oh, nothing,” you said, shrugging. “Just making an observation. By the way, you ever need help with Lois, let me know. I’m excellent at teamwork.”

Bruce groaned audibly in the background.

“Anyway,” he stammered, shifting awkwardly, “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Damian and Jon.”

You didn’t hear a word he said.

Poor Tim. Sweet, awkward Tim. He didn’t deserve you, and yet you tormented him at every opportunity.

You were taller than him, which you used to your advantage constantly. One day, after a successful mission, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pulling him into a tight hug. Your boobs pressed against the back of his head, and you could feel him stiffen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Good boy,”

“Y/N,” he croaked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Hmm?”

“Let go.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“LET GO!”

Tim was your little puppy, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime he looked stressed (which was, like, always), you’d grab him by the shoulders and pull him down onto your lap.

“Shhh,” you’d coo, stroking his hair while he sat there stiff as a board. “You’re working too hard, Timmy. Just relax.”

He’d blush furiously, stammering out a protest, but you’d silence him with a kiss to his forehead.

“Good boy,” you’d whisper, your voice soft but teasing. “You’re doing great.”

Poor Tim would be a mess, his face redder than Jason’s helmet, but you didn’t care. It was adorable.

Jason walked in once and nearly gagged. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”

When you first met Damian, you were charmed. Not by his skill, or his intellect, or his reputation as the Demon’s Son. No, you were charmed because he looked like an angry little bird.

He’d just finished beating the crap out of Tim in the training room when you walked in.

“Who is this?” Damian demanded, glaring at you.

You clasped your hands together, grinning. “Aww, you’re so cute!”

Damian bristled. “I am not cute! I am an assassin!”

You squealed, bouncing on your heels. “Look at him! He’s like a tiny murder pigeon!”

Tim, still lying on the mat, muttered, “Please kill me.”

“So adorable,” you said, holding your hands together in a “squee” motion, jumping up and down like a fangirl. “I didn’t know you were so mad! Look at you, little angry pookie!”

Damian, of course, was not impressed. “Shut up, woman.”

But you? You couldn’t stop giggling. “You’re, like, a pocket-sized villain. So cute.”

Since then, you’d taken to treating Damian like a literal baby. You’d sit him on your lap, spoon-feed him during meals, and ruffle his hair at every opportunity.

Damian was your baby, no matter how much he tried to argue otherwise. You gave him the most attention—whether it was ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks, or straight-up kissing him on the forehead during missions.

“Y/N, cease this nonsense!” he’d shout, trying to push you away.

“Aw, but you’re so cute,” you’d tease, holding his face in your hands.

Damian would glare, but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. You knew he secretly loved it, especially when you called him your “adorable angry bird.”

Jon Kent adored you. But when he let it slip in front of Damian?

“Y/N is… well, she’s amazing,” Jon had said shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

Damian froze, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”

“Uh, nothing!” Jon backpedaled, but Damian was already chasing him across the Batcave, sword in hand.

“YOU THINK YOU HAVE A CHANCE?!” Damian yelled as Jon flew for his life.

Bruce wasn’t immune to your antics either. You’d long since dropped the “old man” or “Bruce” in favor of something much more fun: “Daddy.”

“Good work tonight, Y/N,” Bruce said one evening, his tone professional.

You leaned against the Batcomputer, smirking. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Bruce froze, his eye twitching slightly.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? You always been my suger daddy, it's only make sense if I call you daddy.”

He walked away without another word.

You made it your life mission to annoy Bruce whenever possible. During one of his infamous brooding sessions in the Batcave, you casually walked up to him, poked his nose, and said, “Boop.”

He froze, slowly turning to glare at you. “Don’t.”

“Boop,” you repeated, doing it again.

Dick and Tim were in hysterics in the background, and Jason muttered, “She’s got a death wish.”

Bruce, exhausted, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why am I not surprised?”

It started as a joke. You stole one of Bruce’s button-up shirts and wore it around the Manor. Now it was a regular occurrence, much to Bruce’s annoyance.

“That’s mine,” he’d say.

“Yup, and it’s comfy,” you’d reply, lounging on the couch.

Once, during a mission debrief, you leaned on the table and purred, “What’s the plan, Daddy?”

Jason choked on his drink, Dick coughed awkwardly, and Tim turned bright red.

Bruce didn’t even look up. “I will ground you.”

“Kinky,” you replied with a grin.

You had a thing for flirting with dangerous villains, and the Batfam hated it.

“I could totally take Deathstroke,” you said once after a fight.

“He tried to kill you!” Jason snapped.

“Yeah, but did you see the way he looked at me? Sparks, I tell you. Also who said I was talking about fighting?”

“She’s insane,” Damian muttered, but you just shrugged.

During a fight with the Joker, you’d stopped mid-battle to tilt your head and give him an appraising look.

“Y’know,” you said, webbing one of his henchmen to the wall. “You’d be kinda hot if you didn’t look like a corpse. Ever thought about skincare?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Dick had yelled, dodging a swing from Harley Quinn.

“SHUT UP!” you shot back. “I CAN FIX HIM!”

Despite all the chaos and teasing, there’s a hidden, vulnerable side to you that craves attention—not just the kind that’s lustful, but the caring kind.

After a long night of missions, you’ll often crash in the Batcave. The family can be in the middle of an intense discussion or debriefing, but you’ll barge in, throw yourself onto Tim, and use his lap as a pillow.

Jason will grumble and say something about you “acting like a child,” but then you'll casually climb onto his back, burrowing your face into his shoulder as you cling to him.

Of course, Bruce just looks away like he’s done with all of you, but deep down, he knows that if he even tried to stop it, the whole family would turn on him. You're the glue holding them all together.

Main Headcanon

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[joonie-beanie]

A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]

Summary: Iudex Neuvillette has been acting a little...strange, as of late. Worried about him, Sigewinne and Wriothesley come up with a plan to help lessen his load. “I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.” Well, being Neuvillette's assistant for a week shouldn't be that bad. Unless, of course, the reason Neuvillette has been acting strange is due to the fact that he's actually a dragon that has regained his full power, and now, with the return of said power, his body is experiencing things he's never known before now. Because that would be totally crazy...right? Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Rut, fem!reader Word Count: 10.8k Note: this occurs after "Doctor's Orders"

Sigewinne is the first to hear the rumors about Iudex Neuvillette—although Wriothesley isn’t far behind.

The first indication that something might be wrong with the Iudex is brought up in a letter—one penned by Sedene that is delivered to Sigewinne. In the letter, Sedene writes that since Fontaine has overcome its disaster, everything has been going well…except, Neuvillette has been behaving a little…strange.

Sedene does not elaborate on what exactly is wrong, and Sigewinne assumes that’s because she doesn’t know. Melusine have the ability to sense things, but the things they sense aren’t always accompanied with an answer.

And so, Sigewinne writes back telling Sedene to make sure Neuvillette is staying hydrated (since she knows he has been particularly busy as of late), and that she’ll try and make a trip to see him soon, when she has the time.

The following day, a new batch of wrongdoers arrive in the prison, and along with them—some speculations about Fontaine’s supreme judge.

“I think I deserve a retrial,” one of the men says, clearly frustrated. “I stated my case, but then Iudex Neuvillette actually blanked, and had to ask me to repeat myself! After I said everything so eloquently! That’s why I’m down here, man. I was so surprised by it that when I said my argument again, I sounded lame…this sucks.”

Listening from behind a nearby pillar, Wriothesley frowns to himself. 

Neuvillette getting distracted in court? Well, that’s certainly a first—and a worrying first, at that.

Before the day’s end, Wriothesley and Sigewinne seek each other out. Equally concerned about what they’ve been hearing, they spend the evening coming up with a plan. Something they might be able to do to help Neuvillette.

The next morning, you wake up and get ready—prepared to go and spend a few days below ground in the Fortress…only to find Wriothesley on your doorstep.

“Hi,” he says with a smile when you pull your front door open.

Your eyes go wide, and you glance either way down the street, wondering if you’re being pranked. 

When nothing seems suspicious, you reach out and touch Wriothesley’s chest to make sure he’s real.

He immediately rolls his eyes and snatches your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”

“Good—but, why are you here?” you ask. 

Not that he isn’t welcome at your apartment, but…you just didn’t expect to see him here. On the surface. At your place of residence.

“Am I late or something? I thought we scheduled for me to come back to the Fortress today.”

“No, you are not late,” he reassures you. He gives your hand a little squeeze before allowing you to have it back.

“There’s been…a little change in your schedule.”

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of change?”

Does he want you to stay on the surface a few more days before coming back down? Considering he’s here, maybe he’s got some business on the surface, which would mean there’s no point in you going to the Fortress right now.

Wriothesley’s smile grows—little crow's feet appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”

…

Huh?

“Here.”

Wriothesley grabs your bag—the one slung over your arm and packed with items that should have tied you over while you stayed in the Fortress—and tosses it back into your apartment.

Then, he gently grabs your waist, pulls you out onto the street, and closes the door to your apartment behind you. He checks the door to make sure it’s locked, and when he finds that it is, he nods in satisfaction.

“C’mon, keep up,” he says, starting up the street. His boots are heavy against the pavement.

Blinking, you finally snap out of it and jog to catch up with him.

“Hold on, you—you’re lending me to Iudex Neuvillette?”

You’ve never known the man to have an assistant, and from what you’ve heard from Wriothesley and others, he tends to prefer working alone. Aside from that, he’s very skilled at his job, and typically doesn’t need help—even with the never ending case load.

“...did he consent to this?”

Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.

“Not yet, but he will.”

The two of you turn a corner, heading towards an elevator that will take you up towards the Palais Mermonia. You narrow your eyes at Wriothesley. He waves you off.

“Sigewinne and I both heard that he seems a little…stressed lately. And we decided the best thing we could do right now, aside from giving him our support, would be lending him you. So, assuming he is in need of help, I don’t see why he would turn our offer down, considering how proficient you are.”

“While I appreciate the praise, I think you’re underestimating the pride of men,” you tell him, standing at his side as the two of you arrive at the elevator. Wriothesley hits the button to summon it to your floor.

“Hey, when I got busier than usual, I hired you,” he points out. You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I’m 99% sure the only reason you hired me was due to Sigewinne's influence. I bet she saw your stress growing and bugged you to get an assistant until you finally gave in.”

Wriothesley sighs.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart.”

You grin, holding your head high.

Finally, the elevator arrives on your floor. When the door opens, Wriothesley motions for you to board first. Then, he follows you on.

“So, let’s say Sigewinne did insist I hire an assistant. The result of doing so was positive. My work got easier, and my life improved. If we present that logic to Neuvillette, there’s no reason he should decline our help. Plus, he tends to listen to Sigewinne.”

You sigh, watching the city outside the glass doors of the elevator. You’re nearly to the floor the Palais Mermonia is on.

“If Neuvillette agrees that he wants the help, I have no issue being his assistant for the week.”

Wriothesley catches your silent drift of “you get the pleasure of trying to convince him to accept help, though”. 

Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.

“Sigewinne and I appreciate your cooperation,” he tells you sincerely.

Arriving on your floor, the elevator doors open, and you step out first—standing aside to allow Wriothesley to walk past you and lead the way. A few gazes are thrown your way as you go—people surprised to see the Duke of the Fortress above ground for once—but Wriothesley doesn���t react, so neither do you.

Sticking by his side, you follow him up the steps and through the front door of the building. 

“Duke Wriothesley,” Sedene greets as you near the doors of Neuvillette’s office. She runs up to the two of you, her eyes somewhat nervously shifting towards the office doors.

“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”

She wants to say that he’s not accepting visitors at the moment, but she can’t get the words out—obviously worried about him. Wriothesley flashes her a kind smile.

“Sigewinne sent us,” he tells her, relief immediately appearing on her face at his words. “Is Neuvillette in?”

“Yes, he is in,” she confirms, and then scuttles back over to her desk, only to return a moment later with a tray of tea (or, teacups and water?) in her hands. 

“Take this when you go in, that should help.”

“I appreciate that,” Wriothesley responds. You reach down to take the tray from her hands, quietly thanking her as well. She flashes you a smile, gives you a thumbs up, and then goes back to work.

You and Wriothesley glance at each other. Seeing you’re ready, he raps his knuckles on the door thrice, and enters the room when Neuvillette’s muffled and somewhat reluctant “come in” is heard from beyond the door.

Gripping the handle, Wriothesley pushes his way inside. You dutifully follow after him.

Once in the office—the door shutting softly behind you—you quickly realize that perhaps something is wrong with the Iudex. Because for a man known for his neatness, and professionalism, his office is quite…untidy, at the moment. 

Papers are scattered along his desk—piles uneven, and threatening to fall. And on the coffee table nearby, there are multiple cups, along with empty bottles of imported water. Not to mention books that are strewed around—some even on the floor.

Wriothesley takes quick stock of the state of the office before his gaze settles on Neuvillette, who is sitting at his desk. He's wearing his normal robes, and yet he looks…strangely disheveled. Perhaps it's the faint dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair looks less kept than usual?

“I thought I instructed that there were to be no—oh, Wriothesley.”

Neuvillette's tone of measured annoyance softens the second he looks up and sees who it actually is that has entered his office. Then, he sighs, feeling ashamed of his initial attitude.

“I apologize. Did you request a meeting? I don't recall getting any correspondence about it, unless it was accidentally left off my calendar.”

“No need for apologies, Monsieur Neuvillette. I am the one who should be apologizing, as I did not reach out beforehand to let anyone know that I was coming.”

Wriothesley bows in slight apology, and you mirror him, figuring it's the right thing to do since you're technically also intruding.

“I know you're very busy, so I'll cut right to the chase to save us both time. Sigewinne and I are concerned about you, since we've both heard from multiple sources that you seem a little out of sorts as of late. So, in an attempt to help lessen your load, I'd like to offer you my assistant, Y/N, for the week.”

For the first time since you'd entered with Wriothesley, Neuvillette’s sharp eyes slide to you. You force a polite smile to your lips and—remembering the tray in your hands—move to set it on the nearby table.

Quickly filling one of the glasses with the water, you stride over to Neuvillette’s desk and offer it to him.

“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say. 

“And you as well,” he responds, keeping up formalities.

Taking the glass from your hand, Neuvillette takes a long sip of water, and you scoot back to Wriothesley’s side. Once Neuvillette has finished his drink, he places the glass down on his desk and sighs.

“I assure you that I am alright, and there is no need for concern.”

“I hate to disagree, but based on the state of your office, I can't believe that's true.”

Neuvillette’s gaze slides around his office, as if truly seeing it for the first time in days. His brows pinch together as he realizes Wriothesley is right. He hadn't noticed it'd become so messy…

“I will admit I have been a little…scattered, lately. But it's nothing I cannot handle. Lending me your assistant would only increase the burden of your own workload, which I cannot accept.”

“Actually,” Wriothesley is quick to counter. “I hired Y/N before the disaster, because much of my time was occupied watching the primordial sea gate, and preparing the Wingalet. Now that the disaster has passed, and things have relatively calmed down, my workload has greatly lessened. Meaning, I have no issue temporarily lending her to you.”

Knowing Wriothesley is only willing to give you up temporarily—meaning he'll want you back to himself at some point—makes you happy.

“Be that as it may, I will still have to decline your offer.”

Alright then, time to break out the big guns.

“I know since Furina stepped down as the Archon, you've only gotten busier,” Wriothesley tells him, fixing him with a concerned stare. “And because of that, Sigewinne is worried. If you could just accept Y/N's help for the week, I'm sure that would help put her mind at ease.”

The mention of Sigewinne causes Neuvillette to frown, so Wriothesley quickly lays it on thicker.

“I assure you that Y/N has been a great aide to me,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “Sigewinne recommends her as well. If you allow her to help you for a few days, I have no doubt she’ll be of use to you. So please, Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette places his elbows on his desk and folds his hands together. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, he sighs.

“Fine. If Y/N is okay with this arrangement, I shall accept her help.”

Both men look your way. You smile.

“I’d be more than happy to help with whatever I can.”

Honestly, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here, and aren’t even sure what there is you can do to support him, but considering how tired he looks, you’ll surely try your best.

“Good! Glad that’s settled.”

With a happy grin—pleased that he has won the battle—Wriothesley turns to you. He cups the back of your head and drags you in—his lips pressing into your hair.

“I’ll come visit on Saturday to take her back into my care. Best of luck to you both,” he says, heading for the door. He waves his hand at you and Neuvillette over his shoulder, and without saying anything else, exits the office.

You stare at the closed door for a second, before you take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and turn back to Neuvillette.

…only to find that he’s fixing you with a peculiar stare.

“Are you and Wriothesley seeing each other…?” he asks.

Ah, right, the way Wriothesley had kissed your head before leaving…

“We are not,” you assure him, taking a few steps towards his desk. “Since entering his employment the two of us have just become…fond of each other.”

Which isn’t a lie. You and Wriothesley are quite fond of each other—fond enough that every time you go to stay in the Fortress, you find yourself in his bed at least once (and not just because Sigewinne has instructed Wriothesley to continue having sex to keep his stress levels down). And no, you’re not dating, but that’s fine. You enjoy what you have with him right now, and honestly, it’d be a bad look if anyone found out Wriothesley was dating his assistant anyway.

“I see,” Neuvillette nods, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I apologize for presuming.”

“No need to apologize, Monsieur,” you respond, stepping up beside his desk. You smile at him—softer, and more genuine this time.

“Now, what can I assist you with?”

While it takes a short while for Neuvillette to adjust to the idea of having an assistant to help with things, soon enough, the two of you come to an understanding.

He admits that he has been struggling to juggle court cases and new paperwork that needs to be signed off on now that the judicial system is changing (thanks to recent developments). So, you put forth the idea to allocate time to signing documents, and while you run things where they need to go afterwards, Neuvillette can address any cases on his docket. 

Not having any better idea, he goes with your plan.

While Neuvillette busies himself with signing paperwork, you flit around his office—cleaning up empty bottles and used cups, and putting abandoned books back on the shelves.

By the time you’ve finished organizing (taking your time to make sure everything is put back in its proper place), Neuvillette has finished reviewing his first stack of papers.

“These have all been signed off on,” he says, summoning you to his side. He points at the top right hand corner of the paper. “This area on each document will show you where it needs to be returned.”

“Understood,” you respond, taking the stack from him. You cradle the papers in your arms and leaf through the first few sheets while heading for the door. However, you quickly realize the documents aren’t grouped by which location they need to be dropped at.

So, you make a detour at the coffee table—gently sitting yourself on the sofa as you begin sorting the papers into smaller stacks, grouped by department. Once you’ve done that, you pile them all together again, and continue towards the door—unaware of the way Neuvillette’s lips tug into a smile at your actions.

Delivering documents where they need to go takes up the remainder of your morning, and by the time you’ve finished, your stomach is growling. So—figuring that Neuvillette won’t have stepped away from his desk yet—you decide to pick up something for the both of you.

“You've returned,” he says without looking up from the document in his hand as you step into his office. “I assume everything has been delivered?”

“Yes,” you respond with a nod, his gaze finally rising to look at you as he hears the sound of the bag in your hand, and smells the contents within. “And I grabbed us lunch. I assume you haven’t eaten?”

“I have not,” he confirms. His eyes watch you as you b-line for the coffee table and begin unpacking the take-out food. “I’m not sure what you like, but I figured I’d play it safe and go with soup, since you seem to enjoy…liquids.”

How else are you supposed to describe his taste when all you've seen him consume today is cup after cup of water?

Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.

Standing from his chair, he makes his way over, staring at the clear broth of the consomme.

“...I think I'm beginning to see why Wriothesley enjoys having you as an assistant.”

“Oh? Sounds like Iudex Neuvillette is becoming fond of me too,” you say—very jokingly. “You may have to fight Wriothesley for me later. Assuming I stay as helpful during the remainder of the week.”

You half expect Neuvillette to say say something about how a fight won’t be necessary, as you're only a temporary loan, and he shouldn't need help beyond this week anyway—but instead, he cracks a smile, grabs his portion of the consomme, and says—

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

—before he returns to his desk and continues working through his lunch.

In the afternoon, Neuvillette remains immersed in paperwork and other documents. You mostly spend your time making sure he has enough water available to drink, and fetching him any books or materials he asks for, so he doesn’t have to step away from his desk and break his concentration.

It’s a dynamic that works, and already, you can tell his stress has lessened—now that he’s caught up on many tasks. However, there’s still the slightest pinch to his brow, and a tiny flush on the skin of his neck despite the fact that it’s not overly hot in his office (at least, in your opinion. But maybe all that hair of his is warm?).

However, you don’t bother overthinking it. It’s still your first day assisting him. It would be crazy to think he’d suddenly be stress-free after a few hours in your care.

When the clock strikes 5, Neuvillette doesn’t miss a beat.

“You may go home for the day.”

You blink, looking around for the time.

“...will you continue working?”

“Yes, but that isn’t out of the ordinary,” Neuvillette responds, taking a sip from the glass of water on his desk. “However, your station doesn’t warrant you working overtime. You should go home now and enjoy your evening.”

You suppose he’s right…there are some things you can’t really assist him with anyway. Plus, you still have four more days working under him.

“Alright then, I won’t argue with you,” you respond. You gather up what little things you had brought with you, and then head for the door. But, before you go, you turn back to him.

“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”

“9am will be fine.”

“Understood,” you nod, flashing him a smile. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Monsieur.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he responds in kind, watching you as you open the door and slip out of his office.

His gaze only lingers on the spot where you stood for a brief moment before he returns to his work.

The next day, you arrive at Neuvillette’s office at the agreed upon time, only to find that he’s getting ready to leave.

“I have some trials at the Opera Epiclese today,” he says. “You are welcome to join me.”

And really, who would pass up that offer?

So, without even setting your things down, you follow Neuvillette out of the building and to the Navia line—boarding an aquabus that will take you to the opera house.

Neuvillette garners a lot of attention as the two of you make your way to the building, but you do your best to tune out any stares or whispers. You think Neuvillette’s popularity among the people will never die.

“I have a guest today,” Neuvillette tells one of the staff members once you’ve entered the main hall. “Please make sure she is given a seat.”

“Of course,” they assure him, to which he nods. His eyes catch yours. 

“I will find you once the trials are over,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.

“Luck is typically not required,” he tells you. You feel a little heat of embarrassment rise on your skin, but the smile that appears at the corner of Neuvillette’s lips assures you he’s only joking with you. 

“Nonetheless, thank you.”

With that, he turns and heads up a staircase that will lead him upstairs to the judge’s seat.

You follow the staff member into the theater, still feeling a little warm.

As it turns out, Neuvillette has a full docket today. 

From morning to afternoon, you spend your day settled into your seat in the theater—watching prosecutors and defendants present evidence and argue back and forth.The cases draw most of your attention, but your gaze still strays to Neuvillette every so often, just to make sure he’s alright.

And he seems to be…for the most part.

Once or twice, you notice that his eyes are unfocused—staring off into the distance, and not at the person who is speaking. And when a recess is taken for lunch, and Neuvillette finds you to invite you to partake in lunch with him, you notice that the flush on his neck has returned.

Silently, you wonder if he’s getting sick…although you’ve never heard of Iudex Neuvillette being sick before now.

You make sure to send him back up to his stand with an extra bottle of water (which he downs quite quickly. Then, he even motions for one of the nearby employees to bring him more, which…also must be a little strange, considering you see some people in the audience watching Neuvillette, instead of the “show”).

By the time his docket has been cleared, and the two of you take the aquabus back to the city, the work day is over. You and Neuvillette bid each other farewell, and you return home.

Your third day is spent helping Neuvillette finish up paperwork related to the cases from the previous day. 

He remains flushed the entire time—the blush on his neck creeping up to his ears. He also begins sighing heavily every so often, and his requests for water become more frequent—to the point where Sedene, who guards Neuvillette’s stash of imported waters, even gets surprised by how quickly he’s going through them.

However, it’s not until the fourth day—when you see Neuvillette behind his desk, face flushed, sweat beading on his brow, and his official robes discarded due to how hot he is—that you finally have the guts to speak up.

“Monsieur,” you say hesitantly, remaining gentle despite the way his head nearly snaps up to look at you. 

“Is it possible that you’re sick?”

Neuvillette frowns at the suggestion, as if that’s impossible, but…after a few seconds, he seems contemplative.

“Would you be able to go to the library and fetch me a book?” he responds without answering your original question. He writes the title down on a piece of paper for you, and you take it—unable to say no.

After a short trip to the library, you recruit the help of the librarian, who points you in the right direction, and—soon enough—you find what Neuvillette has asked for.

A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.

…huh.

Dutifully, you take the book back to Neuvillette after checking it out, and he thanks you—setting it off to the side until he has finished what he’s working on. It takes another hour or so, but finally, out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the book.

He flips through the pages until he finds the section he’s most interested in, and then he just…reads. For a while.

You keep yourself busy organizing paperwork in the meantime, and don’t pay him much mind. At least, until you hear a crunching sound.

Startled, you glance over at Neuvillette, only to find that his desk is cracked—his hand gripping it so hard that the wood has actually splintered.

You jump to your feet.

“Neuvillette—?!”

“Leave.”

There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.

“What—”

You’re unable to get more than a word out before his sharp eyes find you—his pupils like daggers.

“Leave,” he repeats, slightly more calm. Although, you swear you can almost hear a rumble in his chest.

Your heart sinks, worry blooming in your chest. Did you do something to upset him?

Seeing how your face twists, Neuvillette takes a deep breath.

“I apologize,” he says, his tone measured. His eyes meet yours for a long beat before he glances away, unable to look at you.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I appreciate your help until now, but I will no longer be needing your assistance. Please go home.”

Not understanding why he’s had a sudden change in demeanor, you want to prod him for answers about what’s going on, but…seeing the tenseness of his body, and the way his chest heaves, you decide to listen to his request.

Without further argument, you gather your things and quickly head for the door—only pausing to say one last thing before leaving.

“It was nice working with you, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips even though he refuses to look your way. “If you ever need my assistance again, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

The sound of the door shutting behind you is loud in Neuvillette’s ears, and once you’re gone, he finally lets go of his desk—chips of wood sprinkling the floor at his feet.

He attempts to take a deep breath to calm himself—but it has the opposite effect—his jaw clenching as his senses are flooded with the scents in his office, all of which seem more pungent than usual.

Leather book covers, fresh ink, Springvale water, his freshly washed robe, and a fleeting, sweet scent…

A scent that he wants to chase after.

He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.

Then, with shaking fingers, he picks up his pen and grabs a piece of paper.

As he drafts the notice of closure he intends to pass along to Sedene, a thunderstorm begins brewing outside his window.

On the morning of what should have been your fifth and final day in Neuvillette’s care, you wake up and find that you can’t simply let things be. 

You do your best to distract yourself with whatever chores in your apartment need doing, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about Neuvillette—the flush on his skin, and the way his eyes had looked when he’d commanded you to leave.

It had all just felt so…out of character. You can’t help but worry about him.

So, despite the thunderstorm that’s been raging outside since you’d returned home the evening before, you decide to go and check on him.

You bundle yourself up in a coat and shoes that won’t be ruined by the rain, and then grab your umbrella—heading out into the storm.

As expected, not many people are out, which makes traversing the streets quite easy. You ride the elevator up to the Palais Mermonia alone, running up the steps and into the building to escape the rain.

In your hurry, you miss the notice that’s been posted on the doors to the building.

Once inside, you close your umbrella and prepare an apology to Sedene for dripping all over the floor, but to your surprise, she’s not at her desk. In fact, there’s not a soul in sight—the lights off, and the hall empty.

You’ve never heard of the Palais Mermonia shutting down before…

You take a step back towards the entrance as lightning illuminates the room—figuring it’s best if you leave. But…

Your gaze strays towards the doors to Neuvillette’s office, and after a beat, your feet begin moving on their own.

Assuming Neuvillette is here (because it’s not hard to imagine him working, even if everyone else is gone), you want to make sure he’s alright. 

So, you grip the handle to his office door, and quietly push your way inside.

A clap of thunder drowns out the sound of the office door clicking closed, and you take a step deeper inside, your eyes peering around the room.

In the darkness, you don't immediately spot anyone.

“Neuvillette?” you call out, just to be sure.

Before his name has finished leaving your lips, a shadow moves. Something rounding Neuvillette’s desk and heading towards you—snake-like eyes shining through the darkness.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you trip over your feet in a panic as you rush to grab the handle of the office door—hoping to throw it open and dart outside before whatever monster you’ve just walked in on is able to get to you.

And really—it has to be a monster. It’s quicker than you—quicker than a normal human—crossing Neuvillette’s office in less than a second.

A scaled hand slams against the door beside your head, and little sound of fear is ripped from your throat. 

You're being prevented from leaving—the door not budging even when you try and discreetly tug at the handle.

Your chest shudders as you take a breath, and you squeeze your eyes shut, fearing the worst.

Even with your back turned, you know there's some sort of beast behind you. One that’s stronger than you. One that will probably end your life before you can beg for mercy— 

“I told you not to return here.”

The sound of Neuvillette’s voice beside your ear causes you to jolt.

He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin, and while realizing that it’s Neuvillette who is behind you should be a comfort, it’s also…frightening. 

You’re aware—like most Fontainians—that Iudex Neuvillette is not totally human, considering he has been presiding as the chief judge for more than a few centuries now, but…you’ve never seen him act like this.

“I…was worried about you. After yesterday,” you respond, finally finding your voice. 

“I sent you away for a reason.”

His voice is deeper than normal—a rumble vibrating in his chest as he speaks. 

His lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Goosebumps rise on your skin and your heart races faster despite your best efforts to stay calm. 

However, staying calm isn’t easy to do in this situation—especially when Neuvillette literally starts to glow.

The scales on his hand which you’d spotted early begin to softly shine blue in the dim light of the room—his nails curling and carving uneven lines into the wood of the door in front of you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, your breath hitching when his free arm suddenly curls around you. His forearm rests between your breasts, his palm splaying over your sternum, and you feel him take a deep breath—almost like he’s inhaling your scent.

“I was trying to protect you,” he says, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat. He can feel your pulse raising—your heart thundering in your chest.

You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.

“Protect me from what, exactly, Monsieur…?”

“Me,” he responds.

His words send electricity up your spine.

“The way I’ve been acting—the way I’ve been feeling recently—it’s very unusual, and something I’ve never experienced before,” he admits—his warmth bleeding into your back as his body curls around you.

“That’s why I had you retrieve that book for me when you questioned if I was ill. There was a small change in my…constitution, lately. One that only early generations of my kind have experienced. So I wanted to brush up on history, and see if I could find any clues. And I did.”

He takes another long breath, and you hear the wood of the door crunch as his grip tightens.

“Experiencing a lack of focus, increased appetite, increased body temperature, and increased sensitivity to certain scents are all signs of one thing. An impending rut.”

A rut.

The word hits you like a train.

“While having an assistant was a nice change, being around you only exacerbated the issue.”

He doubts you’d taken notice with how immersed you’d been in your own tasks this week, but Neuvillette has been watching you. The way you tuck your hair back when you’re reading, the way your ass looks when you bend down to gather papers, the scent of your perfume whenever you approach his desk…

At first, he’d been distraught by his own actions—not understanding why he was being so…improper towards you. But now he gets it.

His instincts have been itching for something to mate. And now that something is you.

Diligent, kind, and pretty…those traits, combined with being around you 8 hours a day, have made you an easy pick.

“That’s why I told you to leave. Why I closed down Palais Mermonia today—to spare anyone any trouble, and to try and deal with this on my own. But you just had to come back…”

The hand on your chest inches closer to your breast—fingers hovering above the soft mound of flesh—before Neuvillette catches himself, and backs off.

“I think I have enough willpower remaining to grant you one last chance,” he tells you, although his throat tightens as he speaks—as if saying such a thing pains him.

“I’ll release you, and when I do, run.”

Run.

Run.

Your instincts scream at you to do just that—the world moving in slow motion as Neuvillette takes a deep breath and takes a step back. 

His hands retract, momentarily relinquishing their hold on you and the door.

All you need to do now is twist the handle and dart outside. To leave him here, and not look back.

You turn the handle, and the door inches open. Behind you, you swear you hear something akin to a whine becoming trapped in Neuvillette’s throat. 

Despite his words, he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s only doing this out of consideration for you.

But…based on the way he’d spoken about his rut—the way he’d needed to read up on his symptoms to determine what exactly was going on—he’s obviously never had to deal with this before. And from what you know of ruts and heat cycles and the like, you doubt dealing with this alone will be enjoyable for him. 

In fact, it will probably be painful.

Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.

You’re scared, but—

Slowly, you close the door—until it clicks, and you’re once again trapped inside the room with Neuvillette. 

You can’t leave him here to suffer on his own.

Neuvillette’s arms wrap around you. His nails dig into your skin through your shirt.

“Why didn’t you leave, you—”

His frustrated voice cuts off, and you can only assume he wants to call you some silly name, but can’t bring himself to. Ever polite, even in this state of his.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, his long hair tickling your cheek. You reach up one of your hands and gently pet his hair.

“It didn’t feel right to leave you here. Alone,” you respond, and despite the way your heart is racing nervously, you still don’t regret your decision.

Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.

“I won’t be able to stop myself any longer,” he tells you. The truth in his words become apparent a moment later, when you feel his canines scrape your neck, and his pelvis grind against your ass. 

The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.

“I know,” you say quietly. Your other hand gives his arm a little squeeze—a reassurance that you’ll be okay. 

“This is wrong of me…”

The frustration in his tone is quickly melting into desperation, his lips incessant at your neck.

A quiet laugh leaves you.

“Wriothesley and I…we already do this kind of thing together. So…if it helps, consider it a part of my job.”

Truthfully, you don’t consider it to be a part of your job. What you and Wriothesley have is not born out of obligation (although, neither is this). But you’re sure hearing such a thing from you will help put Neuvillette at ease, considering his penchant for propriety.

And, of course, it does.

He takes a deep breath—

“Thank you—”

—and then immediately grabs your chin, and turns your head so he can kiss you.

The noise of surprise you make is quickly drowned out by his tongue. A tongue that is longer than a humans, considering it pushes into the back of your mouth—nearly forcing past your uvula and down your throat.

The intense kiss has you fisting your hands in his shirt, your eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to reciprocate, but with every passing second, you realize that will be impossible.

He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.

His barrage of sloppy, passionate kisses go on for what seems like forever—your head actually beginning to swim as your body fights for oxygen.

Only when the first, pathetic whine leaves your throat does Neuvillette remember he needs to allow you to breathe. 

Retracting his tongue, a line of spit connects the two of you as you begin gasping for air.

However, Neuvillette is unable to wait for you to regain your bearings.

He grabs you by the backs of your thighs and hefts you into the air—your knees straddling either side of his torso as he carries you across his office, and over to the sofa.

He lays you down on the soft cushions, and you stare up at him, your skin flushed, eyes wide, and chest heaving.

He needs to see more of you. Needs to hear more cute sounds. Needs you all fucked out and stuffed with his—

Swooping down, Neuvillette captures your lips again. But this time, it’s more of a proper make-out—his lips melding against yours and your tongues rolling together as his hands trace your waist and settle near your hips.

You gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. Then, a beat later, the hem of your panties.

Both items of clothing are in the way of what he wants.

In one swift move, he discards them both—stripping your lower half bare. He deposits your clothing on the floor beside the couch, and as he does so, he sits back—his gaze heavy with hunger as he admires you.

The intensity with which he regards you has you quickly feeling self-conscious, but before you can even think of trying to shield yourself from him, his hands are on your knees.

He pries your legs apart. 

You can't help the little gasp that leaves you—your pussy throbbing with nervous anticipation as his fingertips trace up your thighs.

His palms settle on your hips, and again, a noise is ripped out of you as he forces your lower half off the couch.

As if you weigh nothing more than a feather, Neuvillette drags you down the couch to meet him—your spine curving as he continues to manhandle you—lifting your pelvis farther and farther off the cushions, until your ass is resting on his chest, and your legs are thrown over his shoulders.

His gaze angles sharply downwards, to your cunt. And for a second, the pressure he exudes is truly that of a dragon—one that could unhinge its jaw and swallow you in one bite.

But while Neuvillette does open his mouth, he doesn’t bare any teeth.

No, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign actually wets his lips before he leans down to meet you.

The first taste of his meal.

You can’t help but hold your breath—your fingers curling into the couch cushions beneath you as Neuvillette’s tongue nudges between your folds.

He traces his tongue up—circling your clit, and making you jolt—before dragging it back down to the spot where your arousal has started to pool. You can feel the pressure of his tongue as he presses it at your entrance.

And for a few seconds, he doesn’t move. He just sits there, silently allowing your taste—your essence—to wash over his tongue. But once he's sure that he's memorized the taste of you—committed it to his memory as a sinful pleasure he’ll surely relish in during the millennia yet to come—he gets down to business.

His tongue nudges between your walls, his nose brushing up against the soft skin of your pussy as he makes his mouth flush with you. And as he does so, you (foolishly) assume he's as deep as he can go. That the stretch of your cunt around his tongue will be good preparation for what's likely to come, and he'll simply lap at you until he's satisfied.

…of course, if he was a normal man, that might be the case.

You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.

“Oh, fuck,” you pant, hips jumping in his hold as his tongue suddenly thickens and elongates. It twists deeper inside of you, filling up your cunt wholly.

You've never felt anything akin to this before.

“Monsieur—,” you say, breathless. You can't even think of what you want to say to him.

His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours. 

He says nothing, doesn't dare to take his mouth off of you to speak—not willing to let a drop of you go to waste. But, he does give your leg a little squeeze—a small reassurance, you think.

Then, his tongue starts to move.

He fucks it inside of you with precise control—rolling it up against different areas inside of you until he locates that one special spot that makes you gasp. Your thighs tighten around his head, and your pussy clamps down on his tongue, causing a happy little rumble to resound inside Neuvillette’s chest.

He becomes relentless immediately, his nose brushing up against your clit as he continues grinding his tongue inside of you. Your body writhes, and he holds you tightly—his fingers pressing bruises into your skin where he touches you.

He can't stop. 

He bullies your g-spot incessantly.

You feel like you’re on fire—pleasure scorching away at the nerves that connect your brain to your body. 

You can't control yourself.

The moans and whines that escape you—the arousal that gushes over Neuvillette’s tongue as he continues fucking you…

“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”

Oh god, you can't even get a full sentence out. You want to warn him that you're going to cum—that you won't be able to hold back if his tongue continues moving inside of you like that—but he already knows. He can sense what's coming in the way your muscles tense, and your breath catches.

Cum, he wants to say, but doesn't—not daring to remove his mouth from you when you're on the precipice of an orgasm. 

Within seconds, you come undone—the walls of your pussy fluttering around him, and helpless whimpers falling from your lips.

And yet, even with you being mid-orgasm, a dragon that's drunk on the taste of you pushes for more. He folds you over—trying to reach deeper inside of you. 

The slick from your pussy overflows and drips down between the cheeks of your ass, and immediately, Neuvillette’s fingers are there—gathering it up and smearing it against your hole.

The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.

“Neuvillette, you're—”

“Shh,” he says, for the first time retracting his tongue from inside of you. He kisses at your clit, his free hand trailing up your torso and beneath your shirt. 

“Lift your arms,” he says, his voice deep, and yet soft. The hunger in his gaze hasn't waned one bit, but knowing he has a mate to help him through his rut has put him somewhat at ease, and he doesn't want you to fear him.

Without arguing, you do as he says, and he manages to wrestle your shirt over your head. 

Finally, you're bare beneath him. 

He takes a second to admire you, his hand moving to rest against one of your breasts. He cups it with his palm, his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple, and when you immediately jolt in response—he almost smiles.

Almost, because he still has more work to do if he wants to fully indulge in you, and satisfy his own needs.

“I'll take care of you,” he promises. “Trust me.”

And before you can even think of how to respond, he slips one of his fingers into your ass. 

The gasp that leaves you quickly deteriorates into a lewd moan as his tongue once again returns to your cunt, and you swear it’s somehow even bigger than it was before. 

Not having forgotten his new discoveries, Neuvillette effortlessly locates that special little spot inside of you and begins assaulting it once more—reveling in the way your body shakes, and your ass flutters around his finger. 

He needs you pliant and ready for him, and it takes all of his willpower to not rush. To work at the pace your body needs.

Luckily, his mouth on your pussy and his hand on your breast helps loosen you up. The tension you'd first held—nervous about stepping into the dragon's clutches—begins melting away. 

You trust that he won't hurt you.

“Ah—!” 

He slips a second finger inside of you.

Compared to the incessant rub of his tongue inside you, the motion of his fingers is calmer—a purposeful, moderate pace—and the dueling sensations make your head spin.

It's all so much. 

“Neuvillette—”

You reach one of your hands up, needing to ground yourself with something—and you end up taking a fistful of his hair. 

Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.

He needs to hear you say his name like that again. Actually, more than that, he needs to feel you clenching down on his—

Neuvillette groans into your pussy as you tug at his hair once more. In response, he retracts his tongue from inside you and drags it upwards—grinding it against your clit.

Instantly, you lose it.

A mix of curses, blabbers, and his name are drawn from you—your body squirming against the couch cushions as he laps at your neglected and sensitive clit. At the same time, he scissors his fingers inside your ass, testing to see if you’re stretched enough for one more—

“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”

“Cum.” 

He says it this time—a low command partnered with the sensation of a third finger pressing inside of you. But before your brain can even digest the increased girth of his fingers, his mouth suctions back on your clit, and your toes curl.

“Fuck—!” you choke, your head pressing into the cushion as the tension inside of you snaps—pleasure rushing forth.

You unconsciously tug at Neuvillette’s hair and he takes a deep, long breath in through his nose. He’s careful to not stop the motion of his tongue or the grinding of his fingers inside of you until you begin to whine—your hand moving from his hair to his shoulder as you attempt to push him away.

Then, he finally relents.

Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you. 

Your chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, a few stray hairs sticking to the skin of your face, the slick arousal that’s smeared against your pussy, and the way you’re asshole flutters around nothing after he slowly removes his fingers…

You’re ready.

Still in the middle of catching your breath, you’re drawn back into reality by the sound of the rustling of clothes.

You peek your eyes open to find Neuvillette above you, shedding himself of his clothing. You hadn't noticed earlier, but he isn’t wearing his formal robes today. Maybe because he hadn't been expecting to see anyone, and therefore hadn’t bothered dressing up to the nines.

Neuvillette starts by loosening his tie, and then unbuttons his shirt—tossing both items down onto the floor, where they lay in a heap along with your own clothing. You expect his pants to be the next to go, but you both realize at the same moment that with his boots on, it will take more time than he wants to completely strip his bottom half.

Luckily, he doesn’t need to be completely naked to fuck you.

Popping the button and tugging down the zipper of his pants, you watch with bated breath as finally shoves his pants and underwear down. The fabric drags across his bulge as he does so, and you note for the first time how…substantial it is. 

He may actually be bigger than Wriothesley, which is something you were not expect—

Neuvillette finishes shoving his clothing down to his thighs, and you watch in pure shock as not one, but two heavy, ribbed, lightly glowing dicks spring out of his trousers.

…oh.

You hold your breath, unable to peel your eyes away from the sight of him. You’d never even considered that as a dragon, his sexual organs may be a bit different from that of a humans. You can understand now why he’d made a point to work your ass open…

Speaking of—

“Neuv—!” you gasp in surprise as he rubs his dicks between the folds of your pussy. You feel the head of one of his members catch at your entrance, but he doesn’t linger there—instead using his hand to guide it down to your ass.

“You’ll be okay,” he says, sensing your apprehension. 

He doesn’t look at you, though, as he says those words—his voice tight with desperation. He can’t wait anymore, so he has to believe them. Has to believe that he’s done enough to prepare you for what’s to come.

Gripping his length tightly, Neuvillette nudges his dick inside your asshole. 

It’s a tight fit—one that has you choking on a whine and grasping at his wrist—your nails digging into his skin. It’s not painful, but it’s still a lot—your chest shuddering as he continues to inch himself deeper inside of you.

As he does so, his other cock grinds against your pussy—helplessly waiting for its own turn to be inside of you, precum leaking from his slit and smearing against your skin.

“Gods,” he pants, a waver in his voice. His eyes are aglow as he watches himself slowly sink into your ass—the friction positively heavenly—and soon enough, he’s fully inside of you, his hips flush with your bottom. 

Your breaths coming quick, and your hand still holding tight around his wrist, the two of you meet eyes.

Then, the last little thread of Neuvillette’s sanity finally crumbles in the face of his overwhelming need to rut.

Claws digging into the flesh of one of your thighs, he forces it wider open, and grabs his second cock with his other hand.

“Neuvillette, wait—,” you try to say, but it’s no use. Even with your ass still adjusting to his intrusion, Neuvillette shoves the head of his cock into your pussy. 

“Oh, fuck—!” you cry, your fingernails digging crescents into his skin. 

Already drenched from Neuvillette’s previous actions, he expects your pussy to take him easier, but with your ass full, and your body struggling to relax, it proves challenging. He can only get his length half way inside of you before you’re gripping him so tightly that he can’t move another inch.

Drunk with desire, he actually growls.

“I—”

I’m sorry, you want to say, but can’t get the words out. You just need a minute to adjust. You can do this for him—want to do this for him—but—

“Hush,” he mumbles, close, and then his lips are on yours. 

His body cages you in as he kisses you—one of his hands resting beside your head, while the other finds the small of your back, rubbing circles into your flesh.

“You’ve been doing so well for me,” he tells you, breathless. “Taking everything I give, responding so perfectly to everything.”

His words of praise go straight to your pussy, and you whine as he pushes deeper inside of you—your walls relaxing enough to allow him farther in.

Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.

“That's it, good girl…just a bit more.”

Hearing such words from the esteemed Iudex—his hand warm on your back, and his lips soft on your skin…you want nothing more than to please him.

Taking a shaky little breath, you dispel the tension in your body. 

Immediately, Neuvillette takes advantage. With one last nudge, he stuffs the rest of his cock inside of you.

You’ve never felt so full.

Overcome with joy—a satisfaction deep within him that he’s never felt before—Neuvillette kisses you once more. 

…then, he begins to move his hips.

You cry out, your body shaking in his hold, but he doesn’t let you go. 

The slow, full rock of his hips very quickly deteriorates into quick, desperate thrusts—his cocks stretching out your holes.

The sensation is like nothing you’ve experienced before, and you find yourself helpless to do anything at all. You can hear your own voice, but don’t know what you’re saying, or if the sounds you’re making are words at all. Because while it’s your pussy and ass that are being made a mess of, your brain feels equally as scrambled—unable to conjure even one intelligent thought.

Right now, you’re just a dragon's mindless breeding hole.

The sloppy sound of sex fills Neuvillette’s office, and while it is nearly drowned out by the downpour happening outside—thick droplets of rain pelting against the windows—the plap of Neuvillette’s balls against your ass is impossible to miss. 

Ah…you’re going insane.

A tiny sob slips past your lips, tears beading at the corners of your eyes. 

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire—each stroke of Neuvillette’s cocks pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm. 

“Ahh…”

The heady sound from Neuvillette catches your attention, and you peak your eyes open, staring up at the dragon above you.

Never before have you seen him look so debauched—his hair falling out from his braid, and his face and chest flushed. His eyes remain focused on the space where his body meets yours, mesmerized by the way your body accepts him in full—nearly sucking him in, now that you’ve adjusted and any discomfort has turned to pleasure.

Only when he hears you sob again—a pathetic, desirous little sound—does his gaze stray upwards.

And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

He’s not sure he’s ever witnessed a sight so sinful. The plush of your lips, the unshed tears that wet your eyes, and the bounce of your breasts with each of his thrusts. 

Before he knows it, he’s leaning down to kiss you. 

You whine into his mouth, your arms lifting to hug around his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies. He groans as your nails leave tracks against his porcelain skin, but he doesn’t relent. 

He’s getting close.

And, judging by the way you whimper—your pussy and ass clenching down on him—you must be close too.

Spurred on, Neuvillette kisses you again and again—his kisses open-mouthed and sloppy as his tongue dances around your own. Drool and tears quickly paint your cheeks, but you’re helpless to do anything about it.

Right now, all you know is that you’re going to cum. The stretch of his cocks—the way they rub against your walls as he continues fucking into you with abandon—it’s too much. Your muscles tense, and Neuvillette’s brows pinch together as your holes suddenly tighten on him.

“Neuvillette,” you sob, the sound of his name broken as you speak it against his lips. 

“Y/N,” he pants in turn. His rhythm becomes careless as he begins to lose it as well, but he continues to fuck you the best he can despite the constricting of your walls.

It’s only a few seconds longer before you come undone—your body shaking and nails digging into his back as you orgasm. Broken little sounds escape from your mouth as waves of pleasure tear through you, and the sensation of you cumming is ultimately what does Neuvillette in as well.

With one last buck of his hips, the Iudex buries himself inside of you and cums.

His chest shudders as you milk him dry, and you struggle to keep your eyes open—feeling utterly boneless now that the tension inside of you has gone.

For a minute, the two of you stay as you are—basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. Then, Neuvillette sits back and slowly pulls out of you. 

You make a quiet noise, feeling yourself clench around nothing once you’re no longer stuffed with his cocks, and he smiles at the sound, sensing a hint of disappointment.

“You did so well,” he tells you. 

Placing his hands on your waist, he gently maneuvers you to allow himself room to lay down on his side beside you. 

The feel of his arm wrapping around you and pulling you snuggly back against his body causes a contented sigh to leave your lips, and after a few seconds, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I take it you feel a bit better now?”

“Much,” he responds, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them to your cheek. 

“However…”

He peppers another kiss against your cheek, and then your jaw, and neck. At the same time, his fingers ghost down your abdomen, until his palm is resting on your lower tummy. 

With gentle pressure, he urges your ass back against him—his hips inching forward at the same time—and shockingly, you realize that he’s still hard.

“...it seems that I’m not satisfied quite yet.”

When Wriothesley emerges from the Fortress the next day, the downpour he’d caught word of from some of the prison guards has stopped—only a few clouds littering the blue sky.

Hopefully this is a good sign, he thinks to himself, starting on his way to the aquabus station. 

He takes the line into the city, intending first to visit Neuvillette at the Palais—to hear about how his week fared with the help of an assistant. Then, once that’s done, he’ll go and visit you at your apartment to…catch up.

Smiling to himself, Wriothesley departs the aquabus and takes the path towards Nevuillette’s office. (Because somehow, he doubts the Iudex is at home relaxing like most people do on their days off.)

As he trudges up the steps to the Palais Mermonia, he steps on a wet piece of paper in front of the door. It’s the handmade notice that had been posted on the door two evenings prior, and had subsequently blown off in the storms that followed—but Wriothesley doesn’t think anything of it.

Pushing the door open, he heads inside.

“Neuvillette?” he calls gently, his knuckles rapping against the door to the Iudex’s office. 

The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.

“Come in.”

“I figured I’d find you here,” Wriothesley jokes as he steps inside, spotting Neuvillette as his normal place behind his desk. However, what isn’t normal is the fact that there’s a person sleeping on his couch—their body shrouded with a blanket, and an assortment of untouched food and a glass of water on the coffee table beside them.

Immediately Wriothesley freezes, confused about what’s going on, but…when he looks a bit closerr, he realizes the hair popping out from the top of the blanket, and the scent of the person on his couch are all too familiar.

“Y/N?”

Wriothesley walks up to the sofa, blinking in surprise when he sees that it is indeed you who is passed out—your face just barely peeking from beneath the blankets that have been snuggly wrapped around you.

“You know, Neuvillette, when I lent her to you for the week, I didn’t expect you to work her until the point of exhaustion,” he jokes, looking over towards Neuvillette with a playful hint of a grin. He expects Neuvillette to sigh and apologize, but the abashed look he is instead faced with causes Wriothesley to pause once more. 

It’s then that the Duke notices a small pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the sofa, along with your shoes. 

Hesitantly, Wriothesley grips the edge of the blanket and slowly tugs it away from your body. 

He’s met with the sight of naked shoulders, and a neck peppered with small bites and bruises.

Just as slowly as he’d moved the blanket down, he tugs it back up.

The office sits in silence for a moment. 

“She is…unharmed,” Neuvillette finally speaks, moving a strand of hair away from his face. “Her current state is my fault.”

Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.

“Compared to when I last saw you, you seem to be faring much better.”

His words cause the blush on Neuvillette’s face to deepen, and Wriothesley cracks a small smile, letting loose a sigh.

“Ahh, to think even the almighty Iudex would fare poorly due to unfulfilled needs.”

“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Neuvillette says with a sigh of his own, prompting Wriothesley to raise an eyebrow. However, when Neuvillette doesn’t speak right away—unsure about divulging the specifics that lead to this outcome—Wriothesley decides to not push it.

“Well, whatever the reason, I trust that you haven’t hurt her, and that she consented to whatever took place here.”

“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.

Standing up from his chair, he walks over and stands beside Wriothesley—reaching down to brush a gloved finger against your cheek. You stir only slightly—nuzzling your face into the pillow your head rests upon.

Both men smile.

“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”

“She is; one that works with care and compassion for the one she is helping. She performed well beyond her duties.”

“You can see now why I like her,” Wriothesley says softly, and Neuvillette can see the fondness in his gaze as he regards you.

“She did tell me that she and you are not necessarily in a committed relationship, but…I apologize regardless if I crossed any sort of line.”

Wriothesley hums.

“While the thought of sharing her with anyone else like that does make me feel a bit…possessive…she did consent to what occurred, based on your words. And, honestly speaking, I’m glad it was you over anyone else.”

Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“I trust you,” Wriothesley tells him. “Although, you having sex is not a thought that had crossed my mind before now. It makes me curious as to what exactly you did to her while the two of you were alone.”

“I assure you a majority of her time in my care was spent with her performing her standard duties as an assistant, and nothing else. As to what happened beyond that, well…I’m not sure I possess the courage to recall such details aloud.”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to assure Neuvillette he was just teasing, but the dragon continues before the Duke can interrupt.

“I suppose if you’d like to know, next time—should there be one—you’ll simply have to be present.”

Catching the meaning of his words, Wriothesley meets his gaze. 

Understanding passes between them.

“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Once Y/N has recovered, and when you next return to the surface, I’ll have to invite you both for a meal,” Neuvillette says, turning back towards his desk. “In the end, the support from you both did alleviate the issue that plagued me. It’s only right to repay such kindness when I’m next given the opportunity.”

Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.

“Well, it would be a shame to pass up on such an offer. I certainly hope that fate grants the opportunity for our schedules to align.”

Taking a seat behind his desk, a small smile appears on Neuvillette’s lips.

“I shall hope for the same.”

[taeyongdoyoung]

good for you

summary: your boyfriend is literally perfect and treats you like a princess but you want him to completely lose control 😇 pairing: mingyu x reader genre: smut, tooth-rotting fluff warnings: established relationship, home intruder roleplay, consensual somnophilia, safeword exists but isn't used, rough sex, no lube, no protection, neck biting, size kink (no one is surprised), titty slapping, sir kink, spanking, praise+degradation, slight dumbification, subspace, pet names, shy dom gyu, crying, mentions of pee (non-sexual context), aftercare!!! word count: 1.7k

You and Mingyu have not been together for long but from what you know so far he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever dated. He treats you like a princess, brings you flowers or chocolates with or without occasion, drives you around everywhere, gets stuff from the top shelf for you and is basically the kindest soul to ever step on this Earth. You are, of course, beyond grateful for that, and do your best to show him how much you appreciate him every chance you get.

However, a little demon inside your brain kind of wants him to not treat you as if you are made of glass all the time. While the sex is great and Mingyu makes sure that you reach an orgasm, you can’t help but fantasize about him going rough on you. Even when his friends tease (bully) him, he almost never uses his height and strength to his advantage, instead accepting everything with a good-natured smile.

But you would be lying if you said that the idea of him just snapping doesn’t excite you. Nevertheless, you are not sure how to bring this up to him. You don’t want to sound ungrateful or for him to feel insecure about his abilities because he’s perfect the way he is. It’s your filthy brain that needs fixing. Still, you decide that honesty is the key to a healthy relationship and you gather all your courage to approach him about this.

“Hey, Mingyu, can we talk about something?” you ask one evening after you two have finished having dinner.

His eyes are immediately filled with worry. Judging by the tone of your voice, this is something serious. So far, your relationship has been lighthearted and devoid of any problems. Mingyu thinks that it’s going great but apparently he’s been fooling himself.

“What’s wrong?” he wants to know. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

“What?! Of course not! Do you want to break up with me?” you panic.

“No, no, please,” Mingyu shakes his head fervently.

“Good, good,” you exhale in relief.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

“Um, it’s kinda embarrassing but I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.”

“Secrets?” Mingyu blinks in curiosity.

“Yeah…You know how you’re always super gentle with me, both outside and inside the bedroom?”

“Uh, sure? What about it?”

“Can you consider…not doing that all the time?”

“In what sense?” Mingyu raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“In the sense that…can you fuck me harder without holding yourself back? You’re not gonna break me, I promise.”

“Oh…” he finally realizes what you’re getting at. Because he doesn’t say anything rightaway, you hurry to explain.

“Not that I don’t like how sweet and patient you are with me! It’s more than amazing, I just thought that…maybe it’d be fun to try something new. If it’s not your thing, forget I mentioned it, I’m so-“

“It’s not that it doesn’t sound appealing. But I’m afraid that if I’m not holding myself back, I’ll end up hurting you,” Mingyu confesses, surprising you.

You reach your hand out across the table to hold his comfortingly.

“You won’t. I know how caring you are, Mingyu. Which is why I would trust you with something like this. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods. “Did you have a particular scenario in mind or do you want me to surprise you?”

“Surprise me.”

Mingyu smirks sinisterly. Oh God. What kind of demon have you unleashed?

🎀🎀🎀

A few days later, you receive a text from Mingyu while you’re walking home.

Mingyu: Busy tonight?

You: All yours

Mingyu: Unlock your door at exactly 10pm and wait for me in your bed. If I’m not there by 10:30, lock it again, alright?

You: Yes, sir 🛐

Mingyu: That’s my good girl.

Fucking hell. Your heart flutters upon reading these words. He’s called you that before but in this context, it thrills you even more than usual.

Mingyu: Safeword is butterfly. Use it if something is too much, if you’re in pain or for any other reason that brings you discomfort, okay?

You: I’m gonna need a safeword?!?!

Mingyu: I hope it doesn’t come to that but just in case. See you in a couple of hours, baby.

You’re too excited for tonight. You take a long shower. You wear your prettiest lingerie and make your room as cozy as possible. Not that it matters. You spray perfume over your neck and wrists. You put on some lipbalm and mascara. You want to look good for him. But the truth is, you had an exhausting week and already feel sleepy. You unlock the door at 10pm, climb into your bed and…

Somehow you fall asleep. You feel disoriented as your consciousness is slowly returning to you. You feel too hot, too weak and too full. Fuck. What’s going on? You don’t dare to open your eyes for fear of ruining the sweeter than sleep reality.

“Dumb baby couldn’t wait for me and fell asleep all by herself?” Mingyu’s deep voice coos in your ear.

In your half-awake state you feel your boyfriend’s cock thrusting deep inside of you, taking you rougher than ever before. Well, you asked for it.

“So cute and helpless, leaving the door unlocked for anyone to enter and use you like a whore,” Mingyu murmurs.

He rubs your clit vigorously while still fucking into you, making you wetter than ever before.

“Nnghh,” you whimper drowsily.

“Shhh, baby, go back to sleep,” Mingyu whispers. “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to think about anything.”

He squeezes your boobs, leaning down to bite your neck like a hungry wolf. And here, you thought your boyfriend was just a cute puppy.

“S-so big,” you cry out pitifully.

“You can take it, slut,” Mingyu says confidently.

You don’t offer a verbal response but your body speaks for itself. Mingyu is almost splitting you in two but your pussy is swallowing him up greedily.

“H-harder, p-please,” your mouth seems to have a mind of its own because it speaks against any common sense.

Mingyu slaps your tits, a little hesitant at first.

It stings but it’s such a sweet hurt you’re already addicted to it.

“Like this?” he asks, making sure it’s okay.

“M-more,” you beg, forgetting all inhibitions. “Use me.”

He does it a couple of more times, while still fucking you roughly. His dick is so enormous that you’re certain you’ll be sore tomorrow but it will be more than worth it. You lose count of how many times you’ve come around his cock. Sliding out and flipping you on your belly, he takes you from behind, too, spanking your ass and gripping your hair.

“Such a good girl, just for me, right? No one else gets to see you like this, yeah?” Mingyu’s words come out rushed, almost in trance.

“All yours, sir,” you promise.

Mingyu seems satisfied with your answer because he spills his seed inside of you seconds after. You follow his lead and eventually, your knees give out, your mind goes blank and you collapse on the bed.

“Baby?” Mingyu checks up on you worriedly.

You are not capable of responding, brain barely functioning anymore. He moves you gently to see your face. Your eyes are open but unblinking, which scares the shit out of him.

“Come back to me, my sweetheart, please,” Mingyu cries out, hugging you tightly.

A couple of moments later, you still don’t remember your own name but something more important to you leaves your lips:

“Mingyu?” you whisper cautiously.

“Oh, angel,” Mingyu sighs. “I’m right here.”

Then, you suddenly burst into tears. Overwhelmed by how good he made you feel and how much he cares about you, your emotions fully take over.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?” Mingyu positions you so that you are sitting on his knee and rocks you gently back and forth.

“N-no,” you shake your head. “I’m s-so happy.”

“You poor thing,” Mingyu chuckles softly. “Can’t believe you worked so hard to doll yourself up and make the room smell nice. You knew I was gonna ruin your lingerie anyway, didn’t you?”

“I just wanted to look good for you,” you admit with a pout.

“You always do. My best girl,” Mingyu kisses you sweetly and wraps you in his warm embrace, lulling you back to sleep.

🎀🎀🎀

The next morning, you wake up to the feeling of wanting to pee so badly. You manage to climb out of bed but barely make one step and trip on the ground. Uh oh. You got fucked so good you literally can’t walk.

Awakened by the loud thud, Mingyu is by your side in no time.

“What happened?”

“You happened,” you reply truthfully, but you don’t blame him because you brought this upon yourself.

“Oh…” Mingyu understands what you mean. “Did you want to use the toilet?”

“Uh, yeah. Gosh, this is so mortifying.”

You cover your face with your hands.

“I was literally deep inside of you a few hours ago, get over yourself,” Mingyu laughs and lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bathroom.

“Are you gonna stare at me?!” you ask in embarrassment.

“Might as well,” he laughs but gives you some privacy, even though there is no need to be shy after all the things you’ve done together.

After that, he insists on doing everything for you. You tell him you are perfectly capable of brushing your own teeth but nope, Mingyu wants to do that, as well. And honestly? It feels too good to reject.

He even makes breakfast and brings it to bed so you can share it together. As you take the first bite and drink the first sip of coffee for the morning, the feelings come crashing once again. And you start crying even harder than last night.

“Oh, baby, what is it?” Mingyu wants to know, as he brushes your hair behind your ear and wipes your tears.

“N-nothing, you’re just so amazing and kind I feel extremely touched.”

“You do realize this is literally the bare minimum, right?” Mingyu seems shocked. He just made pancakes. It’s not some heroic act, in his humble opinion.

“It’s so rare to find a lovely guy like you, though,” you admit.

“Well, my good girl deserves only the best,” he smiles shyly and kisses your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning wider than ever before.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll want to be good for you forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The End

[entitled-fangirl]

A King in the North.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: A misunderstanding occurs between the two, resulting in Cregan doubting his ability to keep his wife happy.

Warnings: LIGHT SMUT. Fingering, anger, yelling, talks of sex, talks of cheating, making out, talks of cockwarming, ya know- the works.

A/n: this gif is so beautiful holy shit. Also- based on an ask!!

Part 2

Masterlist

......................................

"No, but in another life, I mean," She explains as she nuzzles further into his chest. 

The two sat in the Godswood and rested against the heavy bark of a tree. Cregan's cloak was wrapped around her as he tried to ignore the light scratching of the wood on his back. 

"Another life? There's no point in dreaming of one, is there? I have this life, and I am eternally grateful for it," He quietly quips, as if not to disturb the nature around them. "I'm grateful for you. I don't wish for any other life than this."

She shifts in his hold to look up at him. "But that would be spoiling the fun. I know you love me and I know you love your life. But imagine that you lived a different one- what name would you want?"

Cregan gives her a look before sighing and giving in to her whims. He drew her to him as he stared up at the sky through the canopy of branches and the occasional leaves that still remained. "I'm not sure."

"Cregan-"

"-I'm considering your question. Just let me think."

It wasn't a rude scold, more of a soft chide, an assurance that he was going through with the question. She could hear the sound of him rubbing a hand over the scruff on his face. 

"I used to be angry at my father for not naming me after his father."

It was a whispered declaration. Knowing Cregan as she did, odds are, no one else knew that about him. He never willingly threw out personal information like this, especially about his father who had died too early and left Cregan with a hole in his heart and all of the North to lead.

She reached up to lightly brush at his cheek. "Remind me his name."

Cregan hummed. "My grandfather? Benjen."

She admired Cregan from her place against his chest. 

And Cregan knew that well. He could tell from his peripheral vision that she was doing so, but he made no motion to acknowledge it. He only stared ahead at the trees and dead grass that spanned as far as the tree line would let him.

But the feeling of her light breaths against his jaw and her fingers across his cheek were almost too much to ignore. 

They had been married for a few moons now, and in that time, they had indulged themselves in the other quite well and quite often, but he still found that he could never have enough of her. 

So he dared to meet her eye.

She had a look in her eyes that he couldn't quite place. A kind that was not lustful per se, but still made his cheeks a bright red every time he saw it. 

Admiration, maybe?

Her fingers still danced across his cheek as her eyes slowly took in his face, starting with eyes and wandering down, taking extra time at his lips. "I would consider you more of a Torrhen," she admittedly so softly, he barely registered it.

A breath escaped him and his a small spark lit in his eyes. "Torrhen, you say?"

She nods, her eyes now shamelessly admiring his lips. "Yes. You could be a king, couldn't you?"

"Fu…" he trails off in a breath. His large hand grabs hers, pulling her hand down to his lips. He kisses her palm, trying not to get too caught up in the sight of her watching him do so. 

He then pulls her hand down to his chest as a way to ground the two. "Careful, sweet girl. You speak of treason so openly."

She doesn't let this go. "Few know the implications of calling you such a name."

He considers her words. "I suppose. But still." He tilts her head up to look at him. "No more talks of rulers besides our Queen. Understand me?"

"You know I only jest."

"I do. But I'd hate for such words to get to someone without understanding of your wit."

"Of course. I understand." She pushed herself up, brushing her lips against his. "Torrhen Stark."

He let out a low groan, trying to control the way his body reacted to her words. He couldn't help leaning in just enough to try to connect their lips.

She got up quickly, managing to get out of his arms due to his guard being down.

He reached out to try to grab her at the last second, but she was too quick. "Little minx."

She grinned widely, pulling the cloak around herself. "I'll see you at Winterfell."

He told himself he just didn't wish to scold her, but in all honesty, he adored the nickname. It stirred something in him.

…

A few weeks had passed since then, and winter was approaching closer by the day.

That meant Cregan had less and less time with his wife. 

It had began to wear on the poor man, the stress getting the best of him. Dark circles were always under his eyes during this time of year. 

The time away from Cregan had hurt her as well, but it showed in different ways. 

The time spent together every night was now spent apart.

He spent every night stuck at a desk with various letters and scribes around him as he began to prepare for his trek to the Wall.

She spent every night in a very different manner.

…

"My lord," A hushed voice came through the door. "My lord!"

He would usually send away whoever it was, but he hesitated this time. "Enter."

The door opened and his wife's handmaiden walked in. His full attention moved to her as he stood. She would only be here if it was something involving his wife. 

"I… Forgive me, my lord. I've not entered on hopeful circumstance."

His blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"

"It's… a personal matter of my lady. She has no knowledge of my being here."

Cregan's weight shifted from foot to foot. "Speak."

"It's the fourth night now. I thought of it as nothing at first, but the fourth night now means I owe it to you to tell you."

He was growing frustrated. "Speak," he growled.

"I believe she is bringing another man into her bed, my lord."

Cregan said nothing. He was frozen, as if the northern air had finally gotten to the burly man. "W… What?"

The handmaiden had never heard the Warden of the North sound unsure of himself. It made her feel guilty for having to be the one to tell him.

"How do you know?" His broken voice asked. 

"I've heard… noises from the chambers. If it is true, my lord, the man would have to come from the balcony, for when I am not present, a guard is at least there at the door. And I've spoken to him. He says he'd never let a soul by without telling you."

He wrung his hands nervously, a trait that was foreign to him. "Leave me with my thoughts."

She lowered her head. "I am truly sorry, my lord."

"If it happens again, you are ordered to tell me."

"Of course. G'night, Lord Stark."

The door shut and Cregan slumped in his chair, an exhaustion overtaking him like never before. 

…

A few more hours passed before he couldn't find himself able to focus on the papers anymore. 

He dropped his quill down with a huff and abandoned the table completely, moving to his shared chambers. 

His hand paused on the handle of the door as he felt the pitiful look from the guard. 

He didn't want pity. 

Cregan Stark fucking hated pity. 

He threw the door open, partly hoping to see the man who was killing him from the inside out, but he was met with his side of the bed empty and a slumbering wife on her own. 

He stepped to her side of the bed, running a hand over her hair, jealous of the warmth that radiated off of her in waves. 

He shook his head and dressed for the night, fighting with himself whether to hold her closer or keep her further away.

…

The next morning, she woke up to a loud noise, prompting her to sit up in alarm. 

"Cregan?"

The man mentioned looked up from his work. "Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

Thick boards were now being nailed into the walls of the balcony doorway, the sun barely visible through the ones already done. 

He shrugged. "Fixing something." He looked between the boards and her eyes, trying to catch something. A slip of any kind. "Is this a bother to you?"

"Well, only to my sleep." She wanted to complain and ask him to do it later in the day, but he valued what time he did have to be in the room, and she'd never ask him to change it. 

"Oh, I imagine it will be," he muttered softly and began to loudly pound another nail in.

She didn't care enough to question more of his antics, getting up and throwing a decent enough cloak over herself and leaving the room to start her day. 

Cregan's eyes followed her, and a guilt only then began to gnaw at him. 

She gave him no reaction. Nothing. She had nothing to hide, it would seem. Still, he wouldn't take the chance. 

He wouldn't let another man come in and do the one thing meant for him. Just his. 

Wardens for the North will come and go, but no one would touch her if he had any say.

Insecurity was something the Stark had never encountered before, and it terrified him.

But before he could dwell on it for too long, he forced another nail into the board.

…

Because of his earlier shenanigan, Cregan had neglected the work he needed to truly be doing, making his night even longer than it already was.

Every second filled him with more and more dread as he waited to see if her handmaiden would appear. 

And surely enough, she did.

"My lo-"

The words couldn't be uttered, the door not fully opened before Cregan threw his chalice against the wall and stormed passed the spooked woman. 

He'd kill the very man who dared to look at his wife. 

He'd kill whoever let him pass. 

He tried not to think of how angry, above all else, he was at her. 

Because that anger was only sadness, almost to the point of tears when he considered it. 

What had he done wrong? He knew his time with her was not much during the winter, but resorting to finding pleasure from another man entirely? It made him sick. 

He didn't realize how fast he was walking until he stood outside of the chamber doors. 

The guard looked at him with a grimace. It was clear that this time, Cregan was coming in at just the right time. 

He'd have to apologize to her guard for having to listen to that for so long. 

"Ah-" then a long, breathy groan sounded from beyond the door. "Oh, g- oh, Tor-"

He threw the door open, not caring for the thud or the way he worried it may come of the old hinges. 

But he freezes up as soon as he sees what laid inside of the room. 

His pretty little wife laid across the furs of their bed in one of Cregan's tunics, the fabric puddling around her due to its size. But that's not the part that caught his attention. 

It was her middle and ring fingers that she had pushed deep inside of her, her hand covered in her juices. 

Seems she had froze as well, for her hand was completely still and her eyes were now on his in a horrified expression.

His breath caught in his throat. "W-Wife?" He asked hesitantly.

She slowly pulled her fingers out of her, and Cregan felt his pants tighten. She then sat up. The tunic covered more of her than he wanted, and what wasn't, she covered by pulling her legs up. She took in a sharp breath, "Forgive me."

She was beginning to cry. 

But Cregan was still frozen. His mind was struggling to comprehend it all.

"I-" she sniffled. "I was getting so lost without your touch. I… I should have waited. A good wife would wait. Not do it all herself. That would be selfish," she looked up at him. "Wouldn't it?"

The sight of her frightened confession and shaking body snapped him back to. He pushed himself toward the foot of the bed. "I… I don't think it is," he whispered. 

He tried to ignore her fingers as they fiddled with the strings at the top of the tunic. 

"You looked so angry."

He gritted his teeth and looked back at the door, as if he could see the event that happened only moments before. "I was."

"At me," she clarified.

"No," he chastised. But this didn't clear everything up. He forced himself to not get lost in her pitiful eyes. "Whose name was that on your lips?"

"Hmm?" She seemed lost, as if he had asked a stupid question. 

His head ticked to the side. "Don't do that. Whose name was that?"

"Yours," she said as if it was obvious. 

"Don't lie," he growled. He couldn't help it as much as he tried. His heavy steps moved him to around the bed to her side now. "Look at me."

She forced her head up, tears now streaming down her face. 

"Whose. Name. Do you moan. When I'm away?"

"Yours," she began to sob. "I only think of you!"

His anger only grew. He grabbed her jaw and leaned over her. It was an impending sight to see such a large man tower over a smaller woman in her bed. "I'll give you one more chance before I give up entirely. I'll not have a marriage built of lies."

"Cre-" she hiccuped. "Cregan, you're frightening me."

"I know, but I need the truth."

She now understood the fear in the eyes of his enemies when Cregan entered a room. 

He was a frightening sight when he wished to be.

"If you didn't like the name, you should have said so," she whispered.

It clicked in his mind. 

Fuck. 

He pulled away as if burned, and stalked to the doorway, poking his head out to the guard. "Tell me the name you've heard these last nights."

"I-I believe it was Torrhen, my lord."

"Fuck!" Cregan yelled out to no one in particular. 

He brought his head into his hands, making himself take deep breaths. 

"You're dismissed for the night."

"My lo-"

"Get. Out."

Cregan shut the door, softly the time. 

He turned to see the woman bawling on the furs of their shared bed. "I owe you more apologies than my words can describe."

She shook her head, her clean hand wiping back and forth, trying to keep the tears at bay. "Don't. I was selfish. I'm a horrid wife to you."

"I'm not angry at you," he persisted. 

She paused and looked up at him. "What then?"

"They told me you were unfaithful to me, and I panicked. And all this time you've-" He sighed. "You've only been busy with yourself."

When she said nothing, he continued. "Moaning the name of another man?" He chuckled lightly, "Another man, my arse." He looked down at her, seeing that the tears were beginning to stop. He grabbed her other hand, only still barely wet with her moisture, and he cursed at the sweet thought of what he had truly walked in on. "Do these pleasure you as well as I can?"

She shook her head. 

He nodded. "I can imagine. You should have only asked, my love."

"You're busy-"

"And you can keep me company," he teased as he sat down next to her. He nipped at her ear, "You can always rest on my cock while I work."

She let out a gasp at that, her hiccups now moving into small laughs.

"Would you do that?" He tried again. "Would you warm my cock while your king works?"

His words were beginning to have an effect on her. 

"Hmm?" He asked, trying for an answer. "Would that keep such an eager woman at bay? I need an answer from you, sweet girl."

Her mouth opened a few times, only to close again. Finally, she only nodded.

"Good. Now, if you decide to forgive me- Make yourself decent and join me, hmm? You'll find that your king may request your presence if you take too long."

He could see the light come back to her eyes. 

"I'll be waiting," he said as he kissed her temple and moved out of the room. 

...........................................

A/n: a part 2 is in order 👀

Edit: Here's part 2!!!

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname

[hohuios]

Tag drop: 2/2

[heavyhitterheaux]

Sorry For My Actions, All That I Projected (NSFW)

Synopsis: An argument ensues between you and your husband making you pull away from him when you were only trying to lift his spirits. You give him space just as he requested, but he was soon asking for forgiveness and thinking of the best possible way to make it up to you

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😘💕

DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDERAGE

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The door slammed once again to your shared house with your husband, indicating his frustrations as you were sitting in the living room watching the highlights from the most recent game that he played in. This had been the running theme for what was now three weeks in a row. The lights had been turned down low as you anxiously awaited his return and you already knew that he wasn’t going to be in the best mood. You hadn't been feeling very well and told him earlier that day that you would probably watch the game from home. He nodded his head when you told him as he kissed you goodbye and went on his way.

“Babe…” You started to say once you finally spotted him in the foyer as you sat up and looked in that direction, but he immediately cut you off.

“Not now.” Joe quickly said as he threw his bag to the side of him and let out a sigh.

“I just…”

“Y/N, I can’t right now, okay? I need a minute.”

“Um, okay.” You quietly answered as you went back to looking at the television and quickly decided to change the channel so Joe didn’t have to hear people possibly questioning his abilities. As far as you were concerned, he was the best quarterback ever in the history of the NFL and didn't care what anyone else said about it.

Joe then picked his bag up off the floor before heading upstairs as you continued to sit there and think of ways that you could possibly lift his spirits. He didn't get like this often, but not having a win for three straight weeks after working your ass off in order to get to this point, there was reason for him to be upset. He had confided in you before the season started and this was one of his biggest fears.

But the game that was just played honestly wasn't his fault. He played amazing and you could tell he was frustrated by the actions of some of his teammates. The blame could be put on the defense, but it was well known that it didn't matter. Because of him being the quarterback, the blame would be put on him.

It was now reaching twelve at night and you started making your way upstairs so that you could check on Joe. You found him in your shared bedroom watching the anchors on ESPN practically picking him apart at every chance they got while very few were defending him. You simply tried to take the remote away from him, but he held onto it tighter.

“Baby, this isn’t helping. You don't need to be watching this.”

“I'm fine.”

“No you aren't. You are nowhere near fine, and that's okay. You're frustrated and pissed off and for good reason. I get that.”

“I said I was fine, now can we drop it?”

“I'm just trying to help. I see my husband is upset and I'm trying to make it better.” You told him as you attempted to brush your hand through his hair, but he moved away from you.

The gesture definitely hurt your feelings but you did your best not to let it show.

“I'm going to sleep.” He simply told you as he turned the television off and got under the comforter.

You sighed before making your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth and do your nighttime skin care routine. Most nights Joe would do it with you, but you figured that he would rather not participate tonight and that you were better off not asking him.

While washing the face mask off, a few tears couldn't help but to slip out. The start of the season had been extremely hard on him and it seemed as if nothing good so far had come out of it. You tried not to let it get to you that he was being distant, but all in all it did. You knew he had to focus and having less distractions was important and by now you honestly should be used to it.

Once you were finished and changed into your pajamas, you climbed in bed next to him and could tell that he was still awake from his breathing since it hadn't slowed and debated on whether you should say anything to him.

“Babe?” You softly said and Joe turned around to face you.

“Hmm?”

“Still proud of you.”

It was now Monday night and excitement was evident as you were making dinner and planned to tell Joe after the two of you had eaten about the little one that was now growing in your belly. You hadn't been feeling well for the past two weeks and finally got a doctor's appointment earlier that day leaving Joe at home to sulk and also go to practice which he just recently got back from. After your appointment, you had stopped at the store and got a Bengals onesie along with a tiny football since you also found out that the baby was a boy. The two of you had been trying for a while and it seemed as if when you were about to give up that it finally happened.

Joe had taken up residence at the table once you told him that dinner was ready. You could tell that he was still in a mood, but it didn’t seem as bad as it was the day before and was hoping that hearing the news would turn his bad mood around. You were trying your best to give him space, but also be supportive at the same time. You understood that he had a lot of pressure on his shoulders at the moment.

“Babe, I made your favorite. I was hoping that this would help you feel better.” You told him as you kissed his cheek and he sighed before answering you as you set the plate in front of him before walking back over to the stove to make a plate for yourself.

“Y/N, you seriously don't know how to take a hint do you?”

“What? Joseph, what are you even talking about?”

“You have been all up under me for the past twenty four hours when I want to be left the fuck alone. What is it that you aren't getting?”

Hearing this, you turned around to look at him and noticed that he pushed his plate of food in the middle of the table, indicating that he in fact did not want it.

“Are you serious right now?” You asked, looking at your husband in disbelief.

As many games as he had lost in the past and the injuries he had gone through along with the surgeries, he had never blown up at you and you were not understanding what his issue was. Yes, he was frustrated but the last thing he needed to do was take it out on his wife.

“You act like you need to be under me every waking moment of every day and follow me around like some little lost ass puppy when I lose a game. I already have a mother and don't need another one. Last time I checked, you were my wife.”

“I'm only trying to help and want for you to feel better. I understand that you’re frustrated, but this is not the way we go about things and you know that.” You told him as you were trying to do your best to even your breathing. Because it was only a matter of time before you started to yell at him. You didn't want to do that, but he honestly deserved it because of how he was speaking to you.

“Well I guess this is news to you that you're not helping. None of this is fucking helping. What would help is my wife giving me space when I ask for it.”

That was the last straw and you knew that it was necessary for you to walk away when you looked down at your watch to see that it alerted you about a high heart rate.

“Hmm, noted.” Was all you said before walking out of the kitchen and leaving Joe there with his thoughts.

Tears couldn't help but make their way down your cheeks as you walked down to where your mini library was and you angrily wiped them away. It was a gift from Joe last Valentine's day and that was your place of peace when you wanted to get away from everything. A lot of times when Joe couldn't find you, he knew that more than likely that is where you would be and would always cuddle with you while he also grabbed a book to read or he always loved when you read to him.

Curling up in the corner with your pillow, you placed your phone next to you and opened your book at the place where you left off earlier. If he wanted to be left alone, you didn't have any problem with it. But you knew for a fact that he would come crawling back sooner or later asking for forgiveness.

And you weren't sure if he deserved it.

Regret filled Joe instantly when he saw you walk away from him. He debated on if he should go after you, but he knew better. He would give you time and give you your space to cool off. He got up and began putting all the food away so that it could be eaten tomorrow because he simply didn't have an appetite.

He could admit that the last thing that he ever wanted to do was take something out on you, but he did. He knew that you were only trying to help and the blame couldn't be placed on anything except for him being an asshole who clearly didn't deserve you.

The thoughts were running through his mind as he was going through his ideas of what he could possibly do for you in order to receive your forgiveness for how he had acted, but he was coming up short.

He would simply sleep on it tonight and hoped that things would be better in the morning and that you two could talk and be able to get on the same page.

Waking up, Joe reached for you since you were never one to get up early unless absolutely necessary and instantly frowned when he noticed that you weren't next to him and probably weren't for the entire night when he saw that your side of the bed was completely untouched. He got up and immediately went on the hunt to look for you and found you in the kitchen sipping what looked like tea and reading your book.

Joe cautiously approached you before saying anything, anticipating that you were immediately going to shut him down.

“Babe, can we talk?” He quietly asked and you glanced up at him before putting your attention back onto your book.

“For what?” You replied and Joe muttered a quiet ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“I need to apologize for how I've been acting towards you. You didn't deserve that when you were only trying to be supportive and help me.” He told you as he came and sat across from you. He wanted to grab your hand, but decided against it since you were holding your book and more than likely you would pull back from him.

“I don't want to talk to you right now.”

“Okay… I get it. But um, later?” Joe wasn't surprised at all by your answer and knew that he deserved it.

“No, I'm busy.”

“With?”

You simply placed your bookmark to keep your place in your book before looking up at your husband and folding your hands as you leaned on the kitchen table.

“When that becomes your concern, I'll let you know. And I have things that I have to do. So, therefore this conversation is now over.”

“Baby….”

“No. Immediately no. You do not get to do that. You were an asshole to me and quite frankly, I don't have to put up with it. So like I said, I don't want to talk to you. Matter of fact, I don't even want to be in the same house as you so I'm leaving.” You replied as you got up from the table, put your cup in the sink and walked out of the kitchen leaving Joe sitting at the table just like you did last night.

It was now Friday afternoon and once again Joe was blowing up your phone and had been for the past three days. You had decided to stay with your best friend Jazmine for the time being to let Joe think about what he did. Besides, he did tell you that he wanted his space, so he got what he asked for. You were sitting on her bed while the two of you were watching The Nightmare Before Christmas which happened to be one of your favorite Halloween movies that Joe would watch with you every year. You could feel her eyes on you as she saw you looking down at your phone.

Husband- Baby, can we please talk? I told you that I was sorry. I understand why you're mad but it's been three days since you've been home.

You- You pissed me off so much so don't be surprised if you don't see me until the playoffs and even then you’d be lucky if that even happens. You asked for space, so that's what I'm giving you. Get off my phone Joseph.

Husband- What can I do to make this up to you? I miss you.

You- Oh, now you miss me? Give me my space. Oh my, doesn't that sound familiar? Goodnight.

Husband- Babe, it's only 1 in the afternoon

You- And? I said goodnight Joseph Lee Burrow.

Jazmine glanced over at you before looking back towards the movie on the screen and sighed.

“He still doesn't know? Does he?” She asked inquiring if he knew about the pregnancy.

“No, simply because I was going to tell him that same night that he decided to have a temper tantrum.”

“Well maybe….” She started to say and you eyed her.

“Maybe what?”

“You need to tell him and the two of you need to make up and make up soon. I am not taking up for him in any way, shape, or form, but he has apologized multiple times and quite frankly, I am tired of him also blowing up my phone to check on you.”

“I'll text him the sonogram picture.” You told her as you shrugged and went to your phone gallery.

“NO Y/N! That is not what I meant.”

“And throw the mini football I got at his throat. It won't hurt, it's soft.”

“Okay, I sense that you're still angry, but you need to calm down and stop being petty.”

“You're taking his side.”

“No I'm not! I'm just saying that man loves you and will do absolutely anything for you. He messed up big time, but wants to make it up to you. It is literally only a matter of time before he shows up on my doorstep.”

“You have a ring camera so you can see him. You don't have to open the door.”

“We are finishing this movie and then you are going home to talk to your husband.”

“You're kicking me out? WOOOOOWWWW.” You exclaimed as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“You have a literal mansion to go to! Yes, I'm kicking you out.”

“Will you at least feed me first?”

“You're getting McDonald's and that's it.”

“I'll make sure it takes me three hours to eat it.”

Jazmine simply rolled her eyes in response.

It was now around four in the afternoon when you were finally pulling into the driveway of your house. Sighing, you grabbed your bag from the passenger and made your way inside. You went through the garage and then through the kitchen in order to make your way upstairs in the hopes of Joe not seeing you. You still didn't feel ready to talk to him. As you made your way upstairs into your bedroom, you were surprised to see Joe sitting there scrolling on his phone and sighed. When he heard your footsteps, he immediately stood up and walked over to you.

“Only reason I'm here is because Jazmine kicked me out. I am still extremely pissed off at you.”

“I know because I told her to.”

You did a double take and looked at your husband in disbelief.

“I was desperate and wanted you here so we could talk. Besides, she told me you kept eating all of her snacks.”

Rolling your eyes, you dumped your clothes into the hamper and set your overnight bag in the bottom of the walk-In closet with Joe following behind you. You reached up behind a pair of your shoes on the second shelf and got the Bengals onesie along with the mini football and handed it to Joe who looked confused.

“Uh? Who is this for?”

“You. Even though I should throw the football at your head for how you talked to me.”

“I… wait… you're pregnant?”

“Yes and you would have found out on Monday if you weren't busy being an asshole. I was so excited to tell you, but that quickly went out the window.”

“Babe…. I… I'm sorry. I promise that it will never happen again. You were only trying to help me and I took that for granted. And I also ruined this.” He said as he held up the onesie to examine it.

“Hmm.”

“I bought you some peonies. They're downstairs in the kitchen.” He quietly told you as he played with the football you had handed him.

“I'll look at them later. The baby is a boy and I hope you teach him how and how not to speak to his significant other so he can learn from your mistakes.”

It was still awkward between the two of you after you had come back home from being with Jazmine for a few days. Now that he knew about the little life inside of you, It seemed like every waking moment he was asking you if you were okay and getting you anything that you might need and bringing it to you. You could admit that it was nice and he was trying to do his best in order to make it up to you.

Since you had somewhat finally got your nausea under control, you decided that you would go to the game this week and see him play but made sure to have meds and ginger ale on stand by. It was an away game as they were playing the Carolina Panthers and Jazmine quickly volunteered to go with you. She told you that she wanted to keep you company, but deep down you knew it was because of her huge crush that she had on Ja'Marr even though she would probably never admit it.

The two of you had just gotten situated in your suite because you knew for a fact that if Joe caught you in the stands with regular fans that he would have a fit. An incident occurred last season before his wrist injury which included so called ‘fans’ harassing you. He knew how much you liked being near the action, but from that point on, in order to not compromise your safety, you always needed to be in a suite for his peace of mind.

“Oh! There's your man!” Jazmine said as she nudged you, but rolled your eyes.

“You only noticed because of who he's standing next to.”

“I… don’t ever know what you mean bestie.” She replied as she was heavily eyeing Ja'Marr.

“Sure, sure. I need to get you two to go on a date so that we can all be put out of this misery.”

“He's cute!”

“And single, so shoot your shot.” You told her as you felt a wave of nausea come over you and quickly grabbed your ginger ale taking a sip.

“Tell his bestie a.k.a. your husband to put in a good word for me.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“I literally can't wait for the double dates.”

It was nearing the end of the game and it looked like for the first time this season that the Bengals would actually have a win which you knew Joe would finally be excited about.

“You know what you should do?” Jazmine asked as she turned to look at you.

“What?”

“He already doesn't know you're here so surprise him in his hotel room. You know where he's staying so….”

“And he always leaves a key for me at the front desk just in case I decide to come to an away game.”

“See? Perfect. Yall need to have make up sex because both of you are still acting awkward around each other when you've seen each other naked and his private parts have been in your mouth and yours in his which is still so weird to me.”

“Jazmine….”

“Like I remember the first time you told me you deep throated him.”

“Jazmine….”

“Had him seeing stars and shit.”

“Jazmine….”

“Just saying. You need to get dicked down. And his first win of the season? Oh girl the paint on the walls needs to be peeling by the time yall get finished.”

“JAZMINE!” You called her name for the fourth time before you busted out laughing.

“What!? What'd I say!? You know it's true. He might end up putting another one in you.”

“Don't you wish that on me!”

“That man is about to turn you every way but loose. You always said you wanted a lot so don't switch it up now. I'm actually surprised yall don't have ten kids already.” She said as she held her hands up in defense.

You rolled your eyes before laughing at her and unlocked your phone to go to your text messages. You read where Joe had sent you which hotel that they were staying at and saw that it wasn't very far from the actual stadium. If you didn't want to hit the stadium traffic, you decided that you should leave now to give yourself enough time.

“What's that look for?” Jazmine asked as she saw the wheels in your head turning.

“I'm about to head to the hotel. That way it'll be easier for me to maneuver because everyone else is still watching the game.”

“Well don't let me stop you. Go and spend time with your man. Just lay on the bed with nothing on. I'll text you when my flight is about to take off.”

Getting to the hotel and getting the key to his room wasn't a problem and you were waiting patiently for him to get there as you were laying down on the bed and scrolling through your phone.

You then noticed that you didn't have a lot of battery left and stood up to get your charger out of your bag when you heard the door open.

Joe walked in and was surprised to see his wife in front of him and instantly smiled.

“I didn't realize that I was going to have a special guest.” He said as he walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you as he placed a kiss on top of your head.

“I decided at the last minute to come and Jazmine volunteered to come with me.” You told him as you stepped back to stare up at him.

“Congratulations by the way. I'm very proud of you. Even though I was proud of you before.” You told him as you reached up to kiss him.

“Thank you. I think because you’re here is why we probably won.”

“I don't know about that. You give me too much credit.”

It was quiet for a few minutes as the two of you simply stared at each other before Joe was the first one to break the silence.

“I hate fighting with you and I'm sorry. The entire thing is my fault and you were just trying to help. Are you still mad at me?”

“How many times are you going to apologize? It happened, we moved on from it. And no. It takes too much energy for me to be mad at you.”

“But I still feel like shit. I can't believe that I talked to my own wife like that. I see why you wanted to throw the football at my head. You had a good reason.” Joe muttered and you stifled a laugh.

“You can make it up to me now, though ” You told him as you let go of him and reached behind you to undo the clasp on your bra.

“How and what are you doing?”

Instead of you answering him with words, you simply pulled your bra out from underneath your shirt and threw it onto the floor after you had taken it off without taking off your shirt.

Joe simply bit his lip before he reached down to kiss you as he backed you up until the back of your legs hit the bed. He gently laid you down and told you to move until you got to the top.

“Move up higher for me.”

Once you did and got settled, Joe was playing with the bottom of your shirt which happened to be his jersey before pulling it up over your head leaving your top half bare in front of him.

Soft kisses were placed all along your body starting from your collar bone and working all the way down until he got to your shorts quickly unbuttoning them. You lifted your hips so that he could pull them away from your body along with your panties and spread your legs wide as he placed kisses along each thigh.

“You're so beautiful, baby. You know that?”

“Hmm, I think that you've told me once or twice before. But I always love hearing you say it.”

“And I'll never get tired of saying it.”

As he held onto your thighs, you instantly felt his mouth on you and a quiet moan couldn't help but to escape your lips.

“Shh. Stay quiet for me, baby. The last thing I want is to hear Ja'Marr complaining that you were too loud because his room is next to mine. I won't hear the end of it.”

“You shouldn't make me feel so good then. And it's not like he hasn't heard us before.” You replied as Joe immediately scoffed.

“Like that's ever going to happen. Keep those legs spread for me or I'll do it for you. You’re already so wet and I've barely done anything.” Joe quietly said as he was running his fingers along your folds making you buck your hips forward.

“I think my wife is growing impatient and she better behave herself because if she doesn't I'll edge her all night. You know I love you, right?”

“Yes and I love you right back.”

“Good, remember that because I'm about to fuck you like I don't.”

—

“Oh shiiit.” You blurted out as Joe was pounding into you as you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you so that your noses were touching.

He quickly took advantage of the opportunity and brought you into a kiss before placing your legs on top of his shoulders.

You had lost count of how many times you had hit your peak that night and was surprised that Joe still had so much energy. Seeing as it was now close to two in the morning. You guess you can blame it on the high from winning the game.

Without warning he slipped out of you making you whimper before he moved down to be face to face with your core once more and began to eat you out again which felt like the millionth time this evening.

“Mmm, baby. Right there, stay right there.” You gasped as he began moving his tongue in and out making you squirm.

Joe could tell you were close as he held you down in place and began to suck on your clit.

“Fuck! Babe, I can’t take it.”

“Yes you can. Give me one more.” Joe answered you as he went back to sucking on your clit.

Your back arched off of the bed as no sounds were coming out of your mouth and knew that it was only a matter of time before you came all over his face, as you've done so many times already. Sure enough you felt it building up and tried to push Joe away from you, but he just held onto you tighter.

“I know your ass is not trying to run away from me. I thought you were my good girl. Good girls don't do that.”

Your response to Joe was you squirming all over his face.

“And there it is. I knew you had one more in you.” Joe told you as he placed small kisses all along your thighs. You didn't even bother responding as you were trying to regulate your breathing and Joe crawled back up your body to kiss you before laying his head on your chest.

“Do you forgive me now?” He asked as he nipped at your breasts before taking one in his mouth and lightly sucking.

“Yes, but I had already forgiven you. This was just a plus. But promise me that nothing like that will ever happen again no matter what the circumstances are. We communicate better than that.”

“Promise.”

The two of you laid in silence for a few minutes with your arms wrapped around each other when Joe's phone went off. He reached over to grab it while still holding onto you and unlocked his screen to see that it was a text from Ja'Marr.

Ja'Marr- are yall done yet? Because I have YET to go to sleep. I knew she was mad at you, but got damn.

“See? Baby, I told you that you were too loud.” Joe said as he was trying not to laugh.

[pochaccoups]

cw — nsfw minors dni, possessive reader, reader referred to as a woman, oral (f receiving), mention of breeding, creampie, i need other people to stop perceiving my man

Some days dating an idol is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

Other days you’re reminded that millions, maybe even tens of millions, of other people want him. You’re reminded by the Instagram comments, videos, Tweets, news articles that fawn over him, all of which garner thousands of views and likes from other people who agree—he’s the perfect man. Strong and buff and hot and kind and gorgeous.

They’re not dating him though. You are. And it’s not that you’re insecure—far from it, in fact, because of Seungcheol’s attentiveness—but sometimes when your feed is riddled with things like fancalls where your boyfriend has been trained to play along as a fan’s boyfriend, you just need a little reassurance.

One of the things you love about dating Seungcheol is that for you he’s built a space where you can be entirely honest with him about any anxieties you have. It means that when you do need his reassurance, you don’t hesitate in voicing it.

“Seungcheol, you’re mine right?”

“I hope so,” he quips, scrolling along on his laptop. Unfortunately for you, he’s too accustomed to your clinginess, which means that sometimes he fails to recognise what you want to hear from him.

You swat at his shoulder like an irritated cat. “Tell me you’re mine.”

He looks at you then and realises you’re being entirely serious.

“Why wouldn’t I be yours? Did I do something?” he asks, now shutting his laptop over. Whatever schedule he’d been emailed about gets shoved to the very back of his brain, replaced with only you.

“No, I just-”

“I can’t have a conversation with someone without bringing you up, and you think I’m not yours?” he says, reaching forward to wrap his hands around yours. His thumbs rub circles into your skin because you’ve told him once or twice how comforting you find it.

“I panic if I don’t have the Hello Kitty cherry keychain you got me when I go overseas, and you think I’m not yours?”

You giggle, growing suddenly shy at his words. His ability to woo you with his words even after two years is impressive, though it shouldn’t be a surprise when his suave and charming attitude was what pulled you to him in the first place.

You give a yelp as he tugs you into his lap without warning, presses you flush against his hard body with the strong hands you love so much.

“I’ve been looking at a ring for you, and you think I’m not yours?”

Your mouth parts with bewilderment and your heart skips a beat, though you barely have the time to comprehend the implications of his confession because he’s ghosting his lips against the curve of your neck.

“Have I not been good at showing it? Is that it?” he asks, grazing his teeth against your skin. You’re under his spell already, eyes rolling into your head as you grow breathless. His palms are hot, gliding under your t-shirt—his t-shirt—sending a shiver along your spine. “Or is my princess just clingy?”

You pull away from him just to pout in his face, but his glassy eyes are dark with desire and it means you don’t stand a chance. Not when his hands have moved to your thighs, inching their way between your legs, rubbing softly at your clothed crotch in a way that has you bracing against him immediately.

“Tell me, baby,” he urges, ghosting his lips against your neck, turning you into a puddle with such ease that it’s embarrassing.

“I want you to show me, Cheol,” you admit. Despite the quiver in your voice, you’re stern. “Show me you’re mine.”

He wastes no time tearing your shorts and panties down your legs, sinking to his knees on the floor in front of you, and diving straight between your legs.

He eats you like a man starved, laps at your clit like it’s life or death, peers up at you with hearts in his eyes as you moan and cry so sweetly it makes his dick swell in no time.

Seungcheol has you all mapped out; knows you like the back of his hand. He knows exactly how you’ll whine when he sucks on your clit, how you’ll tug at his hair when he glides his tongue through your folds, how you’ll buck your hips when he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue because you need more.

“More, Cheol,” you cry, echoing his thoughts. So predictable.

He grins against your cunt, pulling back just to let a little glob of saliva drop on it before his mouth latches onto you again. Seungcheol eats you out with a determination that’s dangerous. He’s aware of the telltale signs of your impending orgasm; your moans growing higher and your body unable to stop shifting, and when he knows you’re close, he’ll stop at nothing to give you what you want. What you need.

His tongue grows ruthless, dragging over every inch of your pussy with vigour until you’re crying his name at the top of your lungs and your fingernails are digging into the roots of his hair. He finally lets up a little, just enough so as not to overstimulate you as you cum, and he’s lapping up every drop of your arousal like he hasn’t seen water in weeks.

“I’ll never get over how sweet you taste, fuck,” he utters between the sounds of him slurping at your cunt, and it’s so lewd that your entire body flashes hot.

“Need you in me, baby, please,” you whimper, watching your boyfriend pull away from you with glistening, swollen lips, with his chin and cheeks covered in you. He’s quick to shrug his pants and boxers down his legs, frenzied almost, like he’ll die if he’s not touching you.

Seungcheol leans over you to melt his lips against yours. He’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth in a way that should be overbearing, but there’s an underlying tenderness in the way he kisses you that feels more like he’s pouring his love into you.

“Yours,” he mumbles against your lips. You flinch when he glides his cock along your sensitive cunt, bumps your swollen clit because he can’t help but torture you just a little when you’re all splayed out for him so pretty. His tip catches your hole, making you keen when he still doesn’t slip inside.

“Seungcheol,” you whine, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him in closer. His face softens when he sees how badly you need it, when he remembers that he’s not making you work for anything, because he has one job and one job only right now—to show you he’s all yours.

In one fluid motion, he slides all the way in, buries himself in you to the absolute hilt like it’s his home, the stretch so good you practically sob. He wastes no time, fucking you with tenacity, letting go of any semblance of self-control the second he feels the warmth of your cunt wrapped around him.

“God, how could I be anyone else’s when this is the pussy I get?” he grunts, fingertips gripping at your hips, guiding you along his fat cock so deliciously that your eyes roll into the back of your head. “My fucking dream woman.”

“You fuck me so good, Cheollie,” you moan, your fingers finding their way to the back of his neck, tugging at the slightly grown out hair there. You pull him in close, your face next to his so your breaths can intertwine, and you whisper, “all mine?”

“All yours. Only yours,” he replies, his thrusts growing faster, harder, more erratic, more debauched from how your pussy grips him, sucks him in. “Let me fill you up, baby. I’ll give you everything.”

You whine at the thought, making him hiss when you clamp down around his cock, but he refuses to slow his pace. In fact, he only fucks you harder into the couch. “Please, yes.”

“Maybe I’ll put my kids in your belly, huh? Will that convince you?”

You nod your head frantically. “Want it, Cheol.”

He only replies with a moan of his own, taking your hands in his and pinning them to the couch. His cock throbs, your cunt dripping wet as you both near the edge of your release.

“Gonna cum for me?” he asks, strained, like he’s holding himself back.

You only nod again, and Seungcheol’s thumb finds your clit, drawing circles until finally he unwinds the knot inside your belly, and you cum with another cry of his name, your walls clenching around him so harshly that he’s spilling inside of you not a moment later.

The kiss he gives you after is so contrastingly soft that you nearly pass out, but it’s the most Choi Seungcheol characteristic you can think of—to fuck you like an animal and kiss you like a loving boyfriend after.

“I love you,” he says, his voice still husky with his orgasm, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his words.

“I love you more,” you reply, smiling like the angel you’re not.

“Not possible.”

“Oh? I don’t believe you, so I guess you’ll just have to show me again.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. He pretends to be unamused. He loves it though. He loves being yours.