#perhaps a bit less mischievous

[silkjade]

WICKED DRAGON, LAY WASTE TO ME

⤀ synopsis: neuvillette has always been the gentlest of lovers—and so tonight you ask him not to hold back ⤀ cw: afab!reader, unprotected + rough sex, size kink, praise, overstimulation, breeding + creampie, marking, monsterfucking (dragon cock), cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, dumbification, mentions of mates, lil bit of dom!neuvi (??) but he is still sweet — mdni || ꒰ 8.4k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: leviathan fic for leviathan neuv ( i’m not talking abt his constellation ) rbs + feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡

“Well? What do you think?” You come home, twirling before him in a gown, different than the one you had left in. The short hem at the front lifts mischievously, teasing just a peek of what lies underneath, while the longer, flouncing layers of skirts behind you, wrap flirtatiously around your legs. Neuvillette feels his throat run dry.

“Navia and Clorinde thought it was high time I changed my look, and you know I can’t ever say no to Chioriya Boutique.” 

While he’s spent the better part of the night reviewing court documents in the parlor, you have been out with Navia and Clorinde, who he thinks have perhaps plotted to kill him. ‘Girls’ night,’ you had called it.

Draped in a vivid palette of the finest fabrics, decorated interchangeably with delicate metalwork and dainty ribbons, the blush on his pale skin is ever-present as he rakes his eyes up and down your body. The dark, patterned stockings, squeezing your thighs just enough, so that supple flesh spills obscenely over the top, the tight, whale-boned embrace of your corset, accentuating the curves of your waist, and pushing upwards the swell of your breasts…

A coy smile graces your features when you catch how his throat bobs in his silence. Giggling, you lean down, tracing the tip of your finger up the contours of his neck, skimming the gentle curve beneath his chin until you’ve tilted his gaze to yours. “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, got nothing to say?”

How can he even think, much less find the right words to say, when the familiar scent of your perfume fills his head with indecent, lascivious thoughts? Everything about you is intoxicating, almost insidiously attractive, so would it suffice to say that he’d much rather see your pretty, new dress abandoned somewhere on the floor? 

That first pulse of arousal translates into the first twitch of his cock, and oh how he wishes to kiss away your teasing little grin, but his lust-driven eyes are drawn to the miniscule movements of your bodice sleeve, predatory as he watches how it begins to shift, ever so slowly, off your shoulders. 

“If you don’t like it, then perhaps…” You loosely roll your shoulder, letting the sleeve slide right off. “…you’d like to help me undress?”

That, he will gladly do. His hands fly to your waist, dragging you down into a straddle over his hips. 

“Temptress,” he murmurs into the skin of your neck, distracting you with a featherlight kiss as his nimble fingers waste no time in undoing the delicate clasps of your bodice, leaving the heavy outer garment to tumble off your shoulders, abandoned in a pile at your waist. 

Cool air licks at the now exposed skin, though it’s nothing compared to the warmth of his lips as he slots his mouth against yours, gently coaxing you open with a subtle swipe of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut in honeyed complacence, allowing Neuvillette to kiss you slow and sweet; impassioned, ardent, each kiss an oath of love and longing and lust. 

Desire blooms like romaritime flowers upon water, and you just know the tension underneath his placid exterior, is ready to burst. It’s prevalent in the way his muscles grow taut, tense beneath your every touch, fighting to hold himself back as your legs squeeze around his hips. Demonstrated, again, by how he pulls apart your corset, impatient and haphazard as he unlaces each cross, before tossing it to the ground, forgotten. And of course, only you can attest to the searing sensations of his escalating kisses—gentle wisps, once faint and docile, now wanton and heated with depravity. 

You can already feel it in your chest, in your bones, in the wetness that’s begun to form between your legs; maybe it’s the anticipation, but despite the layers of clothing you’ve already shed, you find it even harder now to breathe, especially as he holds you so close, body pressed against yours, while he traces the bare curve of your neck with his lips. 

For one with such a carefully crafted visage of elegance and poise, Neuvillette becomes sloppier as his restraint fades and lust seeps through the cracks. Something about you drives him wild, draws out the more carnal side of him that he so desperately seeks to hide away from you, who he could never even dream of hurting. 

But perhaps he’s spent too much time amongst humans. Or perhaps he understands their nature more than he had initially believed, for he makes the most human mistake of all in letting his control slip—enough that his fangs graze upon your sensitive skin, sending a shiver that reaches all the way down to your core, eliciting a moan so mellifluous, he cannot help but utter a sigh of strained content as the undeniably sweet sound reaches his ears.

“If we don’t stop now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back,” he mutters, tongue laving over the spot in apology. It doesn’t help that you voluntarily crane your neck, offering him even more access in your heated bliss. His fingers dig into your waist in a silent plea to still your rolling hips. 

“So don’t,” you breathe. “Don’t hold back tonight.” Desperate to have him closer, you arch into him, the loose material of his shirt firmly clasped in your hands, deepening the kiss with a quick tug, a silent request for him to let go, but he immediately halts his movements, pulling away in hesitance. 

Oh Neuvillette. Your sweet Neuvillette, who in spite of his stern exterior, is the gentlest of lovers—always so tender with you and steadfast in placing your pleasure before his. You know of his draconic origins, know that he holds back in fear of hurting you, but for all the times he’s pleased you to the fullest extent, you only wish to do the same for him.

Your hand reaches to cup his face and he leans into your familiar touch, steely eyes soft. “It’s okay, I trust you.”

It’s already difficult denying you anything on a normal basis, so how can he, now that you sit, straddled over him, determination colored in your bright eyes, and with nothing but flimsy cloth left between the two of you. His eyes linger at your chest, the scooping neckline of your lace slip doing nothing to hide the smooth crests of your collarbones, begging to be marked. 

Neuvillette sucks in a breath, and attempts to swallow his doubts, before exhaling. He can no longer ignore the tightness in his groin, and to you, it’s clear that the obvious erection poking from beneath his trousers, speaks much louder than the uncertainty storming in his eyes. Perhaps he just needs one more push…

Your fingers come to curve around the sharp lines of his jaw, unwavering as you tilt his head up into your gaze. “Don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

His heart threatens to leap out of his chest in a flash of excitement, gratitude, desire; it’s far from the first time you’ve lain together, but to choose to bear such vulnerability before him, to surrender yourself to a full-fledged dragon… He glides his hands over the round slopes of your shoulders, easily sliding off the straps of your slip as he goes. The silk garment collapses down your torso, piling atop your forgotten dress. 

“If that is truly what you wish…” He presses an openmouthed kiss to the bare skin between your breasts, and the warmth of his breath runs a chill even colder than the night air. His whispers hide a growl, and despite the blush apparent at the tips of his pointed ears, his hold on your waist tightens. One hand slides down to grasp at your rear, and you can feel him smile against your lips, the rattle of a faint chuckle rippling in his throat before your breath hitches as he picks you up in his arms, and carries you off to the bedroom. 

He sets you by your shared bed, tearing off his now wrinkled shirt, while you wriggle out of whatever’s left of your dress, until both sets of clothing are discarded somewhere on the floor, and you’re finally left in only your panties and your stockings.

Immediately, his hands find your waist, roaming up and down over your curves as he smothers you in hungry kisses, herding you along until the backs of your knees hit the edge of your shared bed. This Neuvillette nips at your bottom lip, not asking for, but demanding entrance into your mouth, and you have no choice but to let him in, what with the way he makes you whine as he sneaks his hands down to knead the globe of your ass, before lowering you onto the bed. 

The tingling sensations bloom in your stomach, buzzing with excitement while you ready yourself to surrender completely—pliant to his will, whatever it may be. Arousal swallows you like the sea and he has yet to even really touch you. Impatient, your hand wanders, though not far down enough before you’re caught in his grasp. 

“Patience…” he mutters, pinning your wrist beside your head, broad shoulders caging you in between him and the sheets. His other hand follows the natural lines of your body, tracing along the edges until he stops to fondle one of your breasts. 

It’s impossible to relax your speeding heart at this side of Neuvillette: less reserved in his touches, more candid in his wants. The untreated heat in your body makes sure to touch on every part of you, running like water through your veins, until you’re sure your dripping cunt is pulsing with a heart of its own. Unable to stand the ache any longer, you wriggle beneath him—rolling your hips and squirming until your knee unwittingly brushes against his crotch, eliciting a choked grunt from him, only slightly muffled by the fact that his teeth have dug their way into your exposed flesh. 

He immediately pulls away at the sound of your surprised yelp, eyes darting to and fro across your features in frantic search for even the smallest semblance of discomfort, completely missing the way your entire body had seemed to arch into his touch. His eyes finally settle at the light indentations now displayed upon your once unblemished skin.

“Forgive me,” he begins, “I should have been more careful.” Neuvillette is ever the gentleman, but his voice is clearly strained in a poor attempt at fighting back his instincts—instincts that demand a dragon to mark what is his. 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” A soft smile graces your lips as your hand reaches to cradle his face, curling around his jaw in hushed reassurance. It’s so easy to read the thoughts that plague him so. “It felt good, I promise.”

True to your word, his heightened senses easily pick up on the scent of pure arousal that drifts from between your legs, swirling in the air, and lulling him into a state he’s kept buried for so long, he’s unsure of whether he’d be able to hold himself back even if he wanted to. He admires your bravery for daring to poke at the slumbering beast; bravery he knows stems from a place of passion, but how can he release such inhibitions upon a mere human? So physically… fragile. 

“I meant what I said: I can take it. And I know you won’t hurt me so…” Your fingers clasp around his shoulders, pulling your lover down just far enough to whisper, low and sultry, in his pointed ear.

“Don’t you dare look down on me, o’ hydro dragon sovereign..” 

You lurch forward, manicured nails drawing light lines down his bare back, and he meets you halfway in a long, drawn out kiss. A quiet growl rumbles from deep within his throat, clearly aroused by the way you had drawled out his full title. He nips at your bottom lip, dragging out a single, short gasp before leaving to trail wet kisses down the column of your throat, never stopping until his lips hover over the very spot where he had previously made his mark. 

He doesn’t even have to touch you, just his presence, tangled with your own anticipatory excitement, invites a shudder so deep, you can feel it in your bones. The sharp edge of his fangs scrape along that still-sensitive patch of skin, lightly, as if testing the waters, though this time, he makes sure to take note of the quiver in your pretty little mewls. 

Slowly, he bites down again and a moan slips past your lips, forced out from the very depths of your chest as your fingers fly to tangle in his moonridden tresses. His hot breath seeps past the barrier of your skin, leaving every nerve privy to his effect, and combined with the building pressure, you’re left open for the stream of soft whimpers that leave the perfect ‘o’ of your parted lips. As he sinks his teeth deeper, you squeeze your eyes shut in the midst of all the pleasure.

“Do it again,” you gasp, “felt good… ”

And oh, he has absolutely every intention to, what with the way you’re putty underneath him. However, he must do something about how distracting your hands are when you tug at his hair: hard enough for him to groan with an ache so wanton, it sends tremors echoing down until his trousers feel far, far too tight. 

Neuvillette is neither here nor there when he alternates between kissing and sucking and biting at your tender flesh—anywhere is fair game when you’ve relinquished yourself to him like this. With how attentive his lips are along your body, you hardly even care for the absence of his hand when he reaches around to untie the ribbon in his hair… at least not until it’s too late and you're left bemused by the uncharacteristic display of boldness; after all, it’s all you can do when your wrists are suddenly so tightly bound overhead.

You whine as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue, while he ravishes the other between his fingers. Heat surges through you and the aching desperation congregating in your belly begins to boil; you’ve never felt so sensitive, never been more pervasive to his touch.

Inside. You need him inside of you. But with your hands currently incapacitated, you’ve no other choice except to buck into him, beckoning him with your hips in the hopes of redirecting his attention to where you throb. 

“Inside. Please. I need you. Need you inside.” 

He hums in acknowledgement of your wishes, tugging at the hardened bud with his teeth, successfully wringing another shaky cry from your throat, before he finally pulls at the delicate lace of your panties, and guides them down the length of your legs. You easily kick them off, but in his observation, his piercing gaze catches every thrum of your muscles as they tense underneath the hand that finally trails between your thighs. He drags his lithe fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, while his thumb rubs your clit in slow, but firm, circles. 

“My apologies for the wait.” Neuvillette kisses you right above your heart, where his acute hearing easily picks up how it palpitates as he dips his fingers into your velvet walls. “Allow me to make amends, my love.”

With the way your cunt gushes so copiously, it’s easy for him to slide all the way down to the last knuckle. He flicks his wrist, pumping fast and hard, scissoring you open before slipping in a third digit, drawing out mewl after pathetic mewl, as you fail to pull yourself together. The bedsheets twist beneath your incessant movements: simultaneously squirming not only from the initial stretch, but also to feel him deeper.

The discomfort is all too familiar, but with just the curl of his fingers, it washes away into unadulterated pleasure, just as it always does. But with your arms tethered, leaving you open and powerless, everything—every touch, every twist, every curl—feels tenfold.

Plus, no one would even believe you if you were to say that the chief justice had such a playful side in the bedroom; his fingers have explored your insides far too many times for him to just miss the little spot that he definitely knows by muscle memory. Whining, you buck your hips, senselessly grinding into his hand, hoping he’d get the message, hoping he’d quell your heat right at the source. 

But something dangerous and wild and primordial shines in the blue-violet glow of his eyes. For all the times you’ve made love together, he’s never seen you like this: so desperate, so needy for him. He pinches a nipple, hard, before locking your jolting hips down; a show of strength to remind you of your place. 

“Please, more.” Your voice rises in congruence with how you struggle against your ribbon-bound wrists. His fingers tease the spot again, this time with more force, and he watches as you keen and clench around him—helpless and at his mercy. 

With a curl, his fingers crook inside your silken walls, pistoning in and out, fast and hard. Arousal continues to build, turning the low squelches into distinct suctions. Every nerve in your body is ignited, seared by the heat as he laps at the overflowing wetness that seeps out of your entrance. A satisfied purr sounds in his throat, and the vibrations dare your hips to buck in spite of the iron grip that holds you down.  

It thrills him to see you steadily fall apart like this, coming so undone before him, dissolving under the weight of your pleasure. It’s just as you had wanted. More. So you can take it, can’t you? You can take more? 

Neuvillette slots your throbbing clit into his mouth, hot tongue relentlessly striking the swollen nub with viscous lashes, while his fingers continue to bully your insides with no intention of slowing down. Sucking harder, fucking faster—you keen at the added stimulation, back arching clean off the bed in blinding pleasure, unable to do anything more than let out jagged sobs as you cum.

Your entire body grows taut as he sees you through the end of this high, before finally drawing out with one last sleight of his hand, so that his fingertips might graze along the velvet top of your walls, bidding farewell with another shudder-inducing wave of euphoria. He exits his soiled digits, clearly pleased as he inspects the amount of slick that coats his elegant hand. 

“You’re absolutely divine.” He hums whilst licking up the side of his wrist, so as not to waste a single drop of your liquid pleasure. It’s intoxicating how exquisite you are, more decadent than even the most pristine of waters. “Perhaps you’d like a taste?”

His offer is rhetorical at best, as he answers for you, already slipping his slender fingers into your open mouth, tangling them with your tongue, until the first bits of drool begin to dribble from your lips. 

He unties your wrists, releasing them from the ribbon’s hold; time and experience have proven that you’ll need something to grasp onto. In a haste, Neuvillette discards what remains of his clothes, and his cock springs forward in all its glory: long and thick, pale tip leaking and thrumming with desire. 

“You’re absolutely sure… ?” he mumbles, voice trailing off, almost embarrassed. He can no longer control the way his hips twitch in excitement, begging to bury his cock into your warmth, but for his gentle heart’s sake, he needs to hear you say it again.

You laugh out a soft ‘yes’ but just for good measure, you rake your nails down his chest, applying just enough pressure to tickle his nerves. “Use me,” you goad. “Come on. Be wicked, my dragon.” 

Neuvillette exhales, chuckling softly at humanity's arrogance. Wicked dragon. If that was what you wanted... “I wonder if you’d still say the same after I’ve finished with you.”

He pins you back down in one fell move, and aligns himself to your entrance, stopping after inserting only the tip. A delicate whimper leaves your lips as you wince at that familiarly sweet stretch, but you and your little cunt are both so eager to please—the continued arousal you churn out, weeping nonstop, and already clenching around just his cockhead. You wriggle into him, trying to fuck yourself deeper on his fat cock as you adjust to his size. 

Reaching up, you pull him into a seemingly reassuring kiss, hands smoothing over the framing pieces of his hair, before curving around his jaw. His lips follow yours, but as you pull away and the short pieces of his hair fall back into place, you notice how his slitted reptilian pupils are dilated almost round. 

“You wish for me not to hold back,” his voice comes in a low growl as he inches further into your cunt, “so please show me how resilient you are.”

It’s all the warning you receive before he slides the rest of his length to the hilt, burying himself in your creamy insides. A shattered sob tears through the room, and your arms fly around his neck in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself, but it only pulls him closer as he leans more of his weight into you, pressing down and reinforcing the heavy plow of his merciless hips. 

Taking him all at once like this burns like wildfire. Pain from the sudden, rough stretch spreads hot and fast, the small embers bursting into a blaze of arousal as pleasure breezes through just as quickly—like air infinitely adding to an already devouring flame. 

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises, turning his head to reward a small kiss to your cheek. Your hole gushes, rushing to quell the heat, and the added lubrication helps you settle into his pace. Still, the dual sensations wash over you like the tide. It pulls you under, drowns you and consumes you with absolute ecstasy.

And just when you think you’ve grown accustomed, Neuvillette lifts your hips, aiming for the spot he knows will drag out the most wonderfully broken cries from your throat. Your nails dig into his back, and he groans at the vice grip as you clamp down around his cock. With each powerful thrust, he buries himself balls deep with a force that has your tits bouncing along to his rhythm, letting the wanton sound of your sobs ring throughout the room, loud enough to almost drown out the lewd noise of skin slapping upon skin. 

The coil in your belly is wound so tight that you’re sure it won’t be long until it collapses into itself. That it won’t be long until you yourself are about to implode, like a star ready to burst. 

“I’m going… going to…” Between the ragged breaths and the overwhelming sensations of ecstasy, you can’t even find it in yourself to think straight.

Neuvillette hums, his liquid smooth voice doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You’d do well not to break so soon.”

He thumbs your clit, drawing tight circles, ignoring the way you convulse beneath him. As your back arches, he drags the flat of his teeth from the edges of your collarbones, down through the valley between your breasts. 

Your entire body quivers, legs jolting by reflex to the intensity of your orgasm, vision blurring white as your lover continues to pound relentlessly through your high. There’s a layer of fuzziness over your mind that leaves you feeling as if you’re floating atop calm waters, but the fingers still thrumming on your abused nub are quick to drag you back into the salaciously dangerous depths of your own pleasure. 

A string of pitched whines follow in the aftermath, but the pretty noises you make has him throbbing even from within your tight hole. You ask him not to hold back, yet here you are before him, so small and pitiful, already writhing from the intensity—and he hasn’t even cum yet. 

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, your body struggling for a break from the stimulation, but Neuvillette finds it quite adorable, in the way that a predator might toy with its prey. He slows his thrusts, but reaches deeper with every roll of his hips, each languid stroke hitting the exact spot that fills your sight with stars. 

The lascivious sounds of your soaked cunt perfectly swallowing his cock, followed by the slap of his heavy balls on your ass—he’s mesmerized by the way he disappears and reappears, and disappears again inside of you. His heart skips, and he bucks, breaking his rhythm. You undo him like no other, and it spurs him on that he too, seems to have the same effect on you. The way your pussy holds on to him so tightly, the helpless cries of his name amidst your hiccuped whimpering… 

He lets out a small chuckle, breath hot and ragged in your ear as he sucks at the inch of skin below. “Surely you can give me another,” he murmurs, the low grumble of his voice reverberating all the way down, until you can feel the vibrations in the hollows of your collarbone. 

Your eyes flutter, desperately blinking away the wetness that has begun to gather at your lash line. Sweet Neuvillette, your Neuvillette who reveres you more than he ought to and touches you like you’re made of glass. Even through the numbing haze, you know that for him, you’d give anything. 

A long, stuttered moan breaks out from between your lips. As if biding his time, he drags the entirety of his cock along your walls, the large vein that wraps around the length gliding along just right, that your back arches and your knees bend. It’s not that he means to move so tortuously slow, but you squeeze him to such an extent that in spite of his aching need to cum, he cannot help but try and savor the delicious way your walls are gripping for dear life. 

Neuvillette pulls out with the sticky squish of your slick. His throbbing cock, long and flushed, glistens with the sheen of your juices. In the emptiness, you think that perhaps he’s taken pity on you and your now overly sensitive cunt, but that just isn’t fair. Not to him, nor you and your once again looming orgasm.

“You haven’t even cum yet,” you gasp, trying to argue through baited breath. The whole point of this was so that he could feel just as good as he always made sure you did. So why would he—

“I know.” 

You can feel him as he lifts you, flipping you over like you’re nothing more than a doll, and manhandles you onto all fours. Limbs weak, mind frazzled, you’re barely able to hold yourself up, so when he realigns himself at your entrance and slams back through your folds with just as much power as before, you quite literally fall apart. 

“Too much?” The low chuckle in your ear is dangerously taunting, wickedly amused and with no sign of its usual sweetness. You’re able to muster a pitiful whine, but the way your entire body trembles tells him everything he needs to know, as he reangles you mid-thrust.

“I believe you said you could take it.” With a particularly powerful snap of his hips, your arms buckle, and you collapse onto the mattress. The intensity continues to send you jolting forward, but his reaffirmed grip on your waist holds your hips in place.

Nothing deters him as he ruts into you, hitting deep new angles that have your fingers grasping at the sheets while your cunt grasps onto his cock. With every slap of his skin against yours, his tip threatens to kiss your cervix, the aftershocks rippling through you until they’re released as broken sobs, muffled into the bed. 

How unfortunate that such noises, so very sweet to his ears, would be hidden from the world. Tangling his fingers along your scalp, Neuvillette tugs at your hair, lifting your head back so as to hear the pretty melody you sing when your cries ring around the room. Good. Just as the whole of Fontaine should recognize a dragon’s mark on your skin, they too should hear it’s he who pleasures your body so.

Little bits of drool trickle out of your open mouth, your eyes rolling back as he keeps up the brutal pace. Everything feels too overwhelming, yet so tantalizingly good, that your back curves and you’re creaming around him again. 

Electricity shoots through your veins, your lungs desperately racing to catch up with the rapid beat of your heart. The stars painted across your vision drop down to your stomach, exploding with an intensity that rattles you to your core. It’s a flood with no remorse—taking and leaving nothing in return, easily washing away any and all thoughts, until you’re left mewling the name of the only one who could ever give you such a sweet taste of heaven. 

But Neuvillette continues to thrust into you, and as he, too, nears his peak, his tireless strokes finally melt into something a little more forgiving. Just a little. The long drag of his cock slides so smoothly against your slick walls, gentle enough to fool your delirious mind into loosening your grip around him. 

What trickery from the wicked dragon who slams his hips forward with enough force so that your body jostles with every push and pull as he hits all the right spots again and again. Trapped under the weight of his body, all you can do is feel: the heat of the room smothering all your senses, the fervorous thrusts pushing you to your very limit—all you can do is feel and take it as he kisses the spongy head of your cervix, leaving you without a semblance of sanity, blabbering indiscernible nothings that beg to milk him dry.       

“Want more,” you keen, voice as broken as the crystalline tears that roll down your cheeks and melt into the pillows. “Inside. Wan’ it inside.”

Neuvillette laughs, low and airy, strained as his grip tightens, fingertips digging into your hips hard enough that it’d be sure to leave bruises come the morrow. “Is that what you want?”

“Please, please I–” You stop to let out something between a pant and a moan. “Want you to, h-hah, cum inside, wan’ your cum inside me.” Your walls clamp down even harder, as if attempting to trap his cock deep inside you forever, as if you weren’t already tight enough around him. 

White fills his vision, and white fills your womb as Neuvillette cums to the knowledge that you love this. He takes in the sight of you, his precious treasure, now reduced to the likes of a common whore: legs quivering, ass in the air, cunt filled to the brim and leaking from where the two of you merge. All for him. By his doing. 

Such splendor automatically evokes the instinct to claim you in a way far beyond that of human understanding… but you’ve already let him indulge more than enough tonight; he couldn’t possibly ask for more. 

You whimper when you feel him stir again inside you, careful as he brushes past your too-sensitive folds, but even such simple movements hazard to relight the flicker of arousal once again. Every ridge and vein, drawn out so agonizingly slow, sends an inadvertent shiver down your spine until he finally pulls out with a squelch.  

There’s no hope in tearing those sharp, reptilian eyes away from your puffy cunt, abused and messy and leaking with your combined fluids. Neuvillette sucks in a breath, trying to suppress his urges as much as he’s trying to swallow down the desire quickly boiling over in his belly again. Cumming inside you—no, breeding you—was a privilege. For dragons such as he, it’s a ritual reserved only for mates, and given the difference in your physiology, he had never allowed himself to do so—at least not until now, that is. 

In his defense, you had begged for it, and how could he ever deny the very one whom he has entrusted his heart to—especially when you were so beautifully fucked out and unraveled on his cock like that. And perhaps he’s lived among humans long enough to forgive this indulgence as a paradigm of fleeting desire, though nothing of what he feels for you could ever be considered fleeting. 

He parts your folds with two slender fingers, giving himself a better view as his cum now seeps out with suent access. You whine again when you feel him drag his digits down the sides of your pussy lips, catching the overflow before it can fall onto the sheets, and stuffing it right back into your little hole. No point in stopping now, if he’s already committed his sin.

From your half-lidded gaze, you manage to steal a glance at your lover, and judging from the erection that still stands stiff as a rod, he has yet to be satiated. In the attempt to break through the shadow of delirium, you lift your head, shifting your weight back onto your elbows, and forcing your battered body to turn just the slightest bit over. 

“You’re still hard,” you note through staggered breath, “We can go again if you want.”

Neuvillette looks down as if he hasn’t already been feeling the near painful arousal throbbing in his groin. Of course he’s still hard—how could he not be; you’re so complacent before him, offering yourself to him like that. But perhaps he is too soft-hearted, for he only lets out a reassuring hum as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“You were beyond perfect tonight,” he murmurs. “It… might not be pleasurable for you if I continue anymore. I can finish myself.” 

Lovestruck, you shake your head. “I can take it r’member?” Your large eyes, red-rimmed and dreamy, plead for him to use you—use you to his own content, use you so that he’d feel just as good as he always makes you feel. You nibble at your bottom lip, bashful. “You can even use your other form if you'd like...” 

Your words catch him off guard, and he immediately stills in a half-hearted attempt to collect himself as another wave of pure, unadulterated desire pulses through his entire being. Neuvillette swallows hard before letting out a slow, shaky breath. His cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath the creamy skin that now seems to gleam with a soft shine, revealing scattered patches of effervescent cerulean scales. You affect him more than you could possibly know, revitalizing such carnal urges that ignore his will and allow his body to react so enthusiastically.

“You’re sure…?” His normally polished tone is husked in a defiant strain. Despite the way his pupils are blown wide and wild with lust, conflict still swims in the shallows of his expression, made clear by the way his voice rasps as he desperately claws to retain even a semblance of his composure. 

The tips of your fingers trace the blue streaks that protrude from the crown of his silver head, now hardened into twin ribbons of ivory; his horns, delicate but strong, glow a luminescent azure—so warm and inviting in its radiance… You grasp them tight, pulling him down with you, as you fall back into the bed, his lips pressed against yours. Of course you’re sure. He’d never hurt you, your Neuvillette would never ever hurt you.

“Devious…” he whispers between kisses, your tongue and teeth clashing in a waltz of their own, as his body drapes over yours. 

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him in this form, crossed somewhere between a human and a dragon, as beautiful as he is powerful. But it’s certainly the first time you’ve ever attempted to take him like this. He’s bigger in this form—you can already feel it as he grinds up between your legs. Longer. Thicker. Ribbed and embossed with the same pearlescent blue scales. Beautifully intimidating, just like the dragon sovereign himself. 

And as you continue to marvel, he lets his cock rest across your lower stomach, sizing you up. His fervor shines through in the way he’s already leaking a mess of sticky precum atop the smooth skin of your belly. A satisfied hum vibrates in his throat, clearly enthused. 

“This is how deep I’ll be,” he muses, almost apologetic of the incoming stretch you’d have to endure. “I’m beginning to wonder if I can even fit inside you.” 

Would it be wicked of him to admit, even to himself, that he enjoys the way you wriggle and cry just taking him in his human form? And yet… he’s forced to steady his breathing in a poor attempt at grounding himself—a task near impossible as you roll your hips up, ardently shaking your head no, outright ignoring the last out he offers.

“I will… make it fit.” They’re the last words you manage to wrangle out before being overtaken by the need to be full and filled. There’s no reason you should be so terribly, terribly hollow, when he’s right there. Neuvillette chokes back a laugh; your unyielding determination sends blood rushing to his erection, desperate to feel your velvet walls crowd around him again.

Finally relenting, he teases your entrance—running his cock up and down your slit, spreading your wetness, before slapping your clit with the tip—reminding you just how sensitive you still are. Gasping, you jerk away from the stimulation that once again taunts your nerves. Your hole, however, clenches around nothing, eager to please. 

But perhaps you’ve greatly underestimated just how big he is, because he barely makes it past the threshold of your folds, before the pleasure pain of the stretch begins to take over. That, and the overstimulation from your previous orgasms, already have you instinctively trying to snap your legs shut, but the firm hold on your thighs forbid you from doing so.

“Ha-ah N-neuvi—” A twisted sense of pride swells in his chest at the way you can hardly speak as your breath hitches and your lungs desperately search for air. “’s too big,” you sob.

He gives you a momentary reprieve to adjust, while his hand snakes down to run sloppy circles over your clit.

“More?” he whispers. 

It takes you a minute to respond, but he waits until finally your voice shakes with the violence of each hiccupped sob. “More.. please…”

A baritone hum sounds in his throat as he pulls forward, pressing wet kisses to your jaw in a quiet reassurance, effectively sliding a couple inches deeper, as he does so. “You can take it, my love. You’re so pretty like this.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, your hold eliciting a long, low groan from the dragon. Wherever you squirm, he follows, pressing more of his weight onto you, burying more of his cock into you. Each ridged inch that slides past your folds, seems to push the thoughts right out of your head, letting them dissipate into thin air until you’re left mindlessly moaning sweet praises to his name. 

Desperate to accommodate the unfamiliar enormity of his dragon cock, your walls ripple and tense around him, back arching into him, wanting to feel ever closer to the love of your life, determined to push your cunt to its limit for him. For your Neuvillette. 

Neuvillette. Neuvillette. Neuvillete. He’s all you can think about; him and his monster cock that seems to split you so deliciously open. It’s wave after wave of heat that sets your insides ablaze, soothed by the waters of arousal that have you begging for more, and restarting the cycle until he finally bottoms out, and you feel as if you’ve been electrified. You squeeze your eyes shut, but with the way his bulbous tip prods at your cervix, your mind goes blank, and the tears fall regardless. 

“There…” you pant, eyes glassy from the euphoria of feeling so incredibly full. “’s all in.”

“Yes,” he praises, softly. “Look at you, so nice and tight for me.” 

He wipes the salt from your cheeks, distracting you with a delicate kiss. His fangs are more prominent in this form; you can feel them as he grins against your lips, whilst whispering breathy nothings that tell of how good you are for him, how perfect, how he should be so lucky to have you like this, to have you as his. 

When your body eases enough, he pulls away, though the subtle shift of his cock still drags a pitched whine out from your lips. If he’s to be honest, he cannot tear his gaze from where the two of you are joined. It’s mesmerizing, hypnotic, to see how he splits you open, to feel how you mold into the shape of him, to imagine just how much your little cunt had to stretch so that he might rest comfortably inside.

Though, comfortable might be an overstatement due to the way your muscles tense and release so tightly around him, clamoring for more of his attention.  Eyes darkening with lust, Neuvillette smooths a hand over your abdomen, cerulean scales cold upon your skin.

“Can you feel me right…” He draws a clawed finger delicately across the skin of your belly, where his cock rests parallel underneath. “Here…”

He leaves more than just a faint line of red where his talon rakes. Yes, you want to say. You can feel the faint prickle of his claw on your skin, you can feel how the sharpness sends a shiver ringing through your body, and of course you can feel how he’s sheathed his dragon cock right into the very depths of your cunt, deeper than anyone’s ever been, deeper than he’s ever been… But the only sounds that spill through your lips are another stream of broken sobs, fever touched by how close you are to cumming just from being filled.

“Go on, darling. Cum for me.” He can feel you pulsing around him, clenching and unclenching in search of sweet release, yet he makes no additional moves to help you, leaving you to your own devices.

At this point, you can no longer tell if you’re making things better or worse, as every little movement knocks you into reaction—like dominoes toppling over until every piece of you has been unraveled. You writhe atop the soiled sheets for any sort of friction, but it’s too much when his tip knocks against the entrance to your womb. So you shift away, letting the ridges on his shaft graze against your syruped walls, inciting another wave of need. The scales continue to tip between ‘too much’ and ‘more’, until you finally work yourself into a delirious orgasm, on nothing but his cock inside you and your own incessant squirming. 

As you continue to ride out your high, Neuvillete finally begins to move, tearing himself away from your fluttering vice grip with a tremulous moan, because fuck you’re still so tight around him, still so warm and wet even after cumming for what? The fourth time tonight? Pressure lands heavy over your frame as he begins to rock into you, folding you in half as he does. 

He fucks you slow and even, stretching you out even more with every new stroke. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as this new position affords him the privilege to reach impossibly deeper. Despite his shallow thrusts, each drag of his cock still blooms an ache from all the hidden spots that he has no choice but to touch, though it’s quick to pass, as pleasure continues to coil in your belly. 

It’s so much all at once. You can’t take it, it’s too much. But the soul-shattering euphoria of being so utterly full, is unparalleled. You want more, you need more.   

“My pearl,” he whispers, though his voice is gruff, “my heart… I want to hear you.” 

And so you oblige him, wailing something broken and pitched and strangled, at the sudden snap of his hips, at the way he bumps into your cervix and seems to rattle your organs about. 

“F-fuck,” you cry, without thinking. Not that you can anyway, when the push-pull tide of his thrusts raises you to new heights of delirium. “H-ah god, fuck Neu–”

Another sharp, jutting thrust cuts you off as the dragon above you snarls, clearly agitated by your crass choice of words. “There are no gods to help you here.” Not in Fontaine where he rules, and certainly not here in his home.

There’s a feral wildness that shines in his bright vishap eyes, and his possessive streak flares—dragons have no natural inclination to share after all. It’s clear in the way his pace changes: faster, harsher, more ragged—a ferocity befitting of an elemental dragon ruler. But titles aside, he’s still your Neuvillette, and every move he makes is still laced with a tenderness, so as not to break you more than he already has. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he commands, dragging his tongue up the length of your throat.

“Yours. ‘m yours, Neuvillette.”

In and out, in and out. His long strokes guide the ridges of his cock back and forth through your tender muscles, leaving you to mumble mindless nonsense as you convulse and keen beneath him. Whatever pain you had felt earlier has long chipped away into undeniable pleasure as you near the precipice of yet another orgasm. Eyes glazed over in all consuming ecstasy, all you know to do is to chase your lust, and so your hips grind back, rolling together like waves in a storm. 

Amidst the flagrant wet sounds of your rabid fucking, you cum again, lashes fluttering as your eyes roll, muscles tight as they tremble from such rapture—so lovely, so beautiful. Your siren call of pretty cries spill from your lips, intermingled with weak babbles of his name. You’re so breathtaking like this in your post-climax haze: fucked out and cloudy-eyed, panting into the cool air as his slowed thrusts still rack up an aftershock of shudders.

Neuvillette bows his head, once again trailing wet kisses across your collarbones, before pausing to hover his lips right over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his warm breath a familiar spot of comfort in this maddening pleasure. Perhaps it’s some sort of sixth sense unique to only the most attuned of lovers, ones whose souls seem to harmonize in perfect resonance, but there’s hesitance in the way he suckles at the spot, fangs ghosting over your tender skin.

“S’okay… you can do it.” Your soft, dreamy sighs of approval are accompanied by the languid tilt of your neck, jeopardizing more of your delicate skin to the dangers of his teeth. “You can mark me… w’nna be your mate…”

Choking back a moan, Neuvillette pistons thrice more into your cunt—pulling out until just his tip remains, and then plunging back into your gooey insides, sending you into another round of dizzying convulsions. His own orgasm follows, seeing stars as he places an amorous bite to the crook of your neck using only the flat of his teeth. 

With how deep he’s buried, ribbons of his cum shoot right into your womb, spilling out into every cavity, and painting your interior white. Warmth blossoms from the inside out. Your heart is full, mumbling happy nothings of ‘mates’ in between sniffles, while a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, thick liquid oozing from where he ends and you begin. His own chest rises and falls in jagged patterns, but his only want is to seek your lips, to drink in your mewls, and exchange sweet kisses, so that your soul and his, may meld together as they dance in the shape of your breaths intertwined.

He strokes your hair, planting easy kisses all around as he unplugs himself, letting loose the flood of cum that seeps out of your hole, but you whine at the loss, wanting nothing more than to be ever close to your newly consummated mate. Neuvillette only nuzzles into your neck, deep purrs of content reverberating from his chest as he lazily rubs his scent all over you. Meanwhile, a quick swish of his sapphire tail up the sticky underside of your thigh, teases another pulse from your cunt, and by reflex, you push out another dollop of white. 

A small tap tap to his shoulder distracts him from his scenting, and he looks up with a tilt to his head and a small furrow to his brow, his normally sharp eyes full of earnest concern, relaxing only once he finishes reading through the bleary, dulcet tones of adoration that glow in your half-lidded eyes. You poorly suppress your little giggles—although he often disagrees, your lover really can be quite adorable. 

Fontaine’s Iudex Neuvillette is elegant, poised, and meticulously polished… but here in the quiet night hours, in the privacy of your hearth, your Neuvillette is unruly-haired and damp-skinned from satiating the beastly desires of his still tender heart. You reach out a tired arm, first brushing back the pieces of hair that cling to his skin, then wrapping your palm around to cup his face. 

“Was I a good mate?” Your hand slips down from his cheek to play with the tips of his silvery hair. “W’nna be the best for you.”

“You already are the best for me.” His hand, no longer clawed nor scaled, brings yours back up for a kiss to your knuckles. “The only one for me.” 

He rolls off of you, sweeping you into his embrace, as he carries you off to the bathroom. Your head rests heavily against his chest, but your happy hums and quiet murmurs of ‘good,’ tell him that you have not drifted off into slumber just yet.  

“You truly are a wonder,” he breathes, dipping his head to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “And it would be my honor to have you as my mate… but not tonight.”

His instincts had urged him to do it, to permanently claim you as his, and mark you as a dragon would, but his heart vehemently disagrees. The most sacred bond known to his kind is an ultimatum in your relationship, and it is one he refuses to be the sole architect of, so perhaps the two of you can revisit this conversation again once you’re more clear-headed; his answer would remain the same anyways.

edit 10/2024: please Do Not Follow this blog after reading this fic. this is NOT!!!!!! a writing blog anymore, thanks.

notes2: writing this took years off my life, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank u sm for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

notes3: here is a little visual of how i imagine the dress at the beginning to look like, but of course you can always imagine it however you like since i’ve purposely left it rather vague : )

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

a guide to their children personalities, looks and more

characters: dad & husband! alhaitham, cyno, kaveh, kaedehara kazuha, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley

intro: some says children are the mirrors of their parents, reflecting their images and absorbing their surroundings. perhaps this is true as your child shows so much of your husband. nevertheless, they’re their own person too, with their own personalities and likes - but never less loved for that.

cw: kids are described as toddlers and middle-childhood

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

x x x

Hakim

Birthday: May, 7th

Appearance: Hakim has all the looks from his father including his blank expression, although he's nothing but a sweet boy. Hakim has a lot of respect for his parents, and not surprisingly, he’s a very kind and noble kid. For some reason, he doesn't like to start talks but to observe people which it is, perhaps, another trait he took after his father. He loves drawing and reading books with pictures what makes you and Alhaitham buy him a lot of art materials and encyclopedias. Even when he becomes a bit old for his age, Hakim likes to listen his father or you reading for him before he goes to bed.

Nicknames: Kim, Love (you), Son (Alhaitham).

Trivia: He likes cats but he's allergic to them.

Aryan & Isaar

Birthday: November, 26th

Appearance: They’re very identical twins which till this day it causes a lot of trouble for people to identify them. The twins are a mix from both parents, though Cyno’s genes are favored a little bit more as they share the same skin tone, the red-orange eyes and not unironically the stoic face. Aryan is the quiet one while Isaar can be more social what makes the perfect balance between brothers. They’re respectful, kind and honest, but not so easily to trick. Aryan can be more judging than Isaar, if he doesn’t like someone he won’t hide it. They’re good friends with Hakim and Zahra. Both of them are very affectionate towards you, but they enjoy to spend their time with their dad as well.

Aryan’s nicknames: Ary (mostly you), Yan (only Isaar), Son, Kid (Cyno)

Isaar’s nicknames: Isa (mostly you), Izz (only Aryan), Son, Kid (Cyno)

Trivia: They hate sweets but love sour fruits. They created their own language which they use to communicate with each other when they are around strangers. Aryan is 7 minutes older than Isaar.

Kaedehara Kazumi

Birthday: March, 3rd 

Appearance: Kazumi is nothing more than a perfect replica of his father, Kazuha. The boy received all the samurai's characteristics, barely leaving anything for your own genes. What differentiates them is the charming beauty mark under your son's left eye, because even the calm and easygoing personality they share. Kazumi, however, tends to be mischievous and presumptuous which brings him troubles sometimes. Nonetheless, he's a loving and gentle kid; looking after his younger siblings, and listening and admiring you and Kazuha. 

Nicknames: Zumi, Son, Kazu, Zuzu (mostly Kiyomi when she wants to annoy him)

Trivia: He’s ambidextrous.

Kaedehara Kiyomi

Birthday: October, 17th 

Appearance: She definitely looks more like you, though Kazuha' characteristic features such as his crimson eyes and the red streak weren't left behind. However, your daughter is her own person as she is a very extroverted, charismatic and confident girl. She's pretty mischievous and she loves to play with Kazumi, but she can be very girly too as she adores quality times with you. She is a smart and strong type, not taking well to things she judges wrong. She deeply loves you and Kazuha, and cares for her brothers very well, mainly the youngest one. 

Nicknames: Kiki, Sweetie girl (mostly Kazuha), Yomi, Kiyo

Trivia: She loves dresses, kimonos, yukatas.

Kaedehara Haruki

Birthday: September, 21st

Appearance: Haruki is a beautiful mix of you and Kazuha. He has the same pale skin tone as his father, but his eyes shine like two jewels just like yours. As he was born sick, he is smaller than children of his age. Haruki is also very close to you and Kazuha as he rarely leaves the house, but he also likes to be included in his older siblings’ playing. He’s a very shy and quiet boy, but he has a sweet and cute side that he only shows to his family and some acquaintances faces.

Nicknames: Baby (mostly you), Buddy, Son, Haru

Trivia: He’s asthmatic. 

Zahra

Birthday: August, 13th

Appearance: Zahra definitely looks more like her father although her goldenish eyes remind her grandmother of her late husband. She’s a sweet, cheerful and a very friendly girl, being the extroverted one from all her friends. She’s curious and smart, preferring to play with puzzles and bricks over dolls. She absolutely loves her father and not surprisingly Kaveh is her favorite parent, although she loves you equally. Zahra has natural chubby and rosy cheeks and outsiders cannot help themselves but want to squeeze them — which it makes Kaveh go all overprotective. Overall, Zahra is a good girl and barely throw tantrums even being so pampered by her father or her rich aunt. 

Nicknames: Zaza, Babygirl, Sunshine, Sweet girl, Princess (mostly Kaveh)

Trivia: She’s afraid of insects, mainly butterflies.

Corinne & Quentin

Birthday: December, 30th

Appearance: It's slightly noticeable their lilac-cat shaped eyes since they look so much like you. Even though Corinne and Quentin are identical twins, they've some physical differences if you take a close look, like Quentin being an inch taller than his sister or Corinne's cheeks being chubbier. Just like their father and aunt Lynette the twins share the same personality’ difference as well. Although Quentin isn't as energetic as Lyney, he's the friendly and talkative twin while his sister is calm and reserved. They don't have a favorite parent, they love you and Lyney equally. The twins grew up surrounded by magic tricks so they absolutely adore when Lyney comes up with a new one. 

Corinne's nicknames: Rin, Anne (only Quentin), Dear (mostly you), Doll, Sweet girl (Lyney)

Quentin's nicknames: Quenn, Quinn (only Corinne), Junior, Love (mostly you), Buddy (Lyney)

Trivia: Corinne is allergic to shrimps and Quentin hates onions. They’ve only fought once. Quentin is five minutes older.

Éveline

Birthday: February, 4th

Appearance: She’s a very beautiful girl with the same white hair, draconian blue eyes and pointy ears as her father, but her facial features came from you. Éveline is a timid and soft-spoken girl and she tends to get easily nervous around unknown faces, hiding behind you or Neuvillette. She absolutely adores the Melusines and she gets along very well with Corinne. She's a little bit emotional but she knows she can run to you or her father if she gets overwhelmed by her own feelings. Éveline loves to cuddle with Neuvillette. As time pass by she starts to be outdoors by herself a little bit more, whether enjoying nature or playing with animals.

Nicknames: Line, Angel (you), Child, Darling (mostly Neuvillette), Eve

Trivia: She loves Mondstadt' water and she wants to be an "animal healer" when she gets older.

Cameron

Birthday: June, 26th

Appearance: Cameron is a carbon copy of his father, not only in his looks but their likes and mannerisms are exactly the same. He’s more collected and quiet than Wriothesley tho. However, his personality easily changes under your caring and affection being blushier and shy. He’s incredibly well-educated and respectful for his age treating everyone the same regardless of their background or crimes. He’s very intelligent and he loves to play puzzles or create things. For a long time Cameron was the only child but neither you nor Wriothesley had doubts about how he’d react with a new family addition as he had shown to be a loving big brother already.

Nicknames: Sweetheart, Love, Baby boy, Cam, Buddy, Son (Wriothesley), Cammy (Marie)

Trivia: He loves tea but not without sugar.

+

Marie

Birthday: October, 9th

Appearance: She’s 14 years younger than Cameron and she’s the cutest girl in the world according to her father and big brother. She looks more like you, but her icy blue eyes are a gift from her father. Marie is very innocent, sweet and empathetic. For some reason she's very small for her age, though she's a healthy and energetic girl. Marie is too precious and friendly for her own good so Wriothesley and Cameron feel like they cannot take their eyes off of her. You and your husband weren't trying to have a second kid, she came as a blessing that your family embraced with much joy.

Nicknames: Angel, Love (you), Mae (mostly Cameron), Princess (mostly Wriothesley), Sunshine, Baby girl

Trivia: Her first word was “Cam” and her favorite drink is almond milk.

.

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author fun facts: marie is entirely based on maria from anime film "Koe no Katachi", and zahra' insects fear are inspired from me since i'm truly terrified of them. mainly butterflies.

a/n: since it seems i'm committed to keep writing and giving life to this series, i'm bringing this character profile list for those who are interested to follow it updates or just take a look on it to get a broader look and have a detailed reference when you go to picture/imagine their kids. in my drafts, i've write and described them as teenagers/young adults. so if you want to know more just reach me in my askbox :)

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART TEN

pirate poly!141 x reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, brief mentions of death/blood, gaz being a little shit, foreshadowing idk but we gettin into it masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“You need new clothes.”

You glanced down at the loose fabrics swallowing your body.

You’d grown a routine of wearing various pieces of the men’s clothing apart from Ghost, given that your own clothes weren’t much to wear at all. They were old and dirtied, practically useless against the changing seasons of the chill that began to shift in the wind.

“We’ve got to stop on the Mainland, gather a few things for travels,” Gaz continued, eyeing the lousy clothes. “Would you like to shop for somethin’ new?”

“Really?” you asked bashfully.

It would be nice to have something of your own, something that was yours. While you weren’t doused in riches and gold back in your village, you had clothing that was to your own comfort and liking.

Men’s clothing was itchier than you liked, even with finer cotton.

“‘Course,” he assured with a warm smile. “Not that it’s not a bit humorous seein’ you wear our clothes for the time bein’, but I’m gettin’ sick of washin’ double the clothes.”

You smiled back at him, feeling a comforting warm burn through you. Gaz may have had his reservations in the beginning, but he was certainly becoming the most welcoming.

At the start, you thought he was cold, just as the rest of them. He was crude with the way he spoke, voice full of venom whenever he’d spoken to you, which was rare. Now, there was an underlying comfort, as if he felt the need to watch over you.

It wasn’t unwelcome, and was rather preferred. If you were going to be willed into this life of deadly chaos by no choice but Price’s own, then having somebody watching your back was certainly something you wouldn’t refuse.

“Clothes would be nice,” you sighed. “Thank you, Gaz.”

“No need,” he dismissed with a hand. “Consider it a loan. I get you new clothes, you owe me next time.”

“Next time?” You deflated, shoulders dropping. “I have no money to return to you, Gaz. Nor anything of consistency.”

Gaz laughed lightly, a hearty laugh that you always found contagious. It was full of life, lovely even.

The brief memory of him mentioning being a prince in his previous years always seemed to make its way back into your mind when you heard it. It wasn’t loud or boisterous like Soap’s, nor quiet and gruff like Price’s. There was a something more proper, more articulated when he laughed.

“You expect clothes for free, dove?” he teased. “I may be a gentleman in practice, but I’m still a pirate. Perhaps we can come up with a negotiation.”

“I have never been good with those,” you confessed with a heavy sigh.

“Mm. Let me think, then.” Gaz’s finger tapped mindlessly at his bottom lip, eyes narrowed in false concentration. As if a light bulb popped in his head, he snapped his fingers, pointing at you. “I will gift you coins for clothes as well as a few for our agreement. Once we’re on the Mainland, you go off and find me somethin’ I’ll like. If I don’t like it, then you must owe me for the clothes.”

You gawked at him, eyebrows furrowing. Gaz only smiled at you cheekily, a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“That sounds less like a negotiation and more of a game that I am bound to lose,” you said flatly. He snickered.

“C’mon, birdie. Don’t you like games? Everyone does.” He leaned in close as if to mock you, hunching down to your level. You could feel his warm breath fan over your nose and cheeks.

The sudden proximity made you tighten up at the abruptness, taking a step back. His eyes flickered to your feet before back up at you. Something mischievous oozed from him, and it felt like Soap was the one teasing you rather than Gaz.

Why were you so flustered? Was it due to the absence of light-hearted mockery that you’ve now forgotten what it felt like?

“Okay, okay. I will find you the most brilliant gift on the Mainland,” you bragged, attempting to come off aloof.

Gaz’s smile grew, though he didn’t step away from you. “Excellent.”

You watched as he finally moved, straightening up. He radiated a boyishness, one you didn’t see often, so you allowed him the advantage. The two of you were growing friends, or at least that’s how it felt. You didn’t want to lose that feeling.

“Don’t let her out of your sight,” Price ordered his men. He said it with such warning, as if you weren’t standing amongst them.

It made sense, though you felt like a child with a leash on. After all, the last time you joined them on the Mainland, you ended up in a heated game of hide and seek with the soldiers you so stupidly entrusted.

Ghost stood silent, eyes peering over the side of the ship and to the faint view of the bustling town sitting several hundred yards away. He seemed on edge, more than he normally was, but you could only tell so much from his stiff body language.

You followed his view, squinting. The Captain decided it was best to dock the ship on a farther pier, away from the crowd. Out of sight, out of mind. Nobody would notice them unless they went searching.

“Aye, Cap,” Soap and Gaz synchronized.

Price glanced at Ghost, who shifted his focus off of the land and to his Captain. He gave him a curt nod, and seeing that Price was satisfied, the five of you began to head off.

Ghost was in charge of you this time, much to your dismay. It was evident Price was still weary of you running off, and it seemed Ghost was his most trusted candidate for the job.

The walk towards the busy town was quiet apart from Soap and Gaz speaking quietly behind you. You tried to listen in, but it seemed Soap had a keen sixth sense because before you knew it, his hands cupped over your ears, shielding you from the chatter.

You could very faintly hear Gaz snickering, so you frowned to yourself, disappointed.

You always wondered what they all spoke about when you weren’t around. It always felt like there was this lingering whisper in the air that spoke a language you didn’t understand.

The maps, the poem, none of it made sense to you and nobody was offering answers. Even when you tried to shush it in your mind as it played on replay, it never quite left. It was always in the corner, waiting to return once things got too quiet.

Glancing at Ghost from beside you, he gave no indication of… anything, really. Even after all this time, he was still an impossible read. He stood tall as always, walked with an edge to him, and kept his eyes forward.

You’d never met somebody so confusing yet utterly frustrating at the same time. One moment, he gave you hopes of a bright future on the ship—getting along, finding solitude in one another, empathizing understanding.

Yet as quickly as those feelings would come, they’d be squashed with a mere glare. A burning fire. Something reserved.

You didn’t think he understood himself, either.

When you came to the bounds of the town, Price stopped you. He glanced up at the sky, eyes squinting at the brightness on his retinas, before looking back.

The sun blared down on you from directly above.

“Return here when the sun falls to the west. If anythin’ happens, and I mean anythin’,” he paused, meeting your eyes before shifting back to his men, “then you run back to the ship and signal the bell. Am I understood?”

You really hoped Ghost was good with directions, or at least had a compass. You weren’t sure how to read the time through the sun’s positions. It was never a necessity before when you knew that it was nighttime when the moon came out to play.

You looked back at the ship that was now in the distance. It floated mindlessly along the lapping waves, bobbing back and forth as if saying hello.

The men confirmed with Price. Just as you were about to join them as they trudged on forward, Price stopped you with an arm held out, blocking you from walking.

“You aren’t goin’ to run off on me again, are you?” he asked quietly, though there was that familiar touch of authority to his tone. It wasn’t malicious, but you knew the implications—he wanted to trust you.

“No, sir,” you assured with a shake of your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you dared to look at Ghost, who was impatiently waiting if the tapping of his fingers on his crossed arms meant anything. “I won’t do such a thing.”

The Captain kept his arm up for a moment so he could look at you. His eyes searched yours, so much so it made you flustered.

“Good.” He nodded. “Go along, then.”

He dropped his arm, letting it fall to his side. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he simply cleared his throat and gave you a farewell with a nod.

You watched him leave, disappearing into the swarm of shopping townsfolk. Curiosity festered you like a tick, itching into your skin, but you knew it was best to leave it be for now.

“You comin’?”

Ghost snapped you out of your spell. You quickly came back to reality, offering a quick nod before jogging to catch up to him, sticking to him like glue as you entered the town.

It was loud and overwhelming as you followed Ghost around. He made haste with purchases which ranged from stock for food to new knives that glinted tauntingly at you in the light, all of which were shoved into the bag thrown on his shoulders.

You knew people were staring. Even if they were directed towards Ghost and his eccentric appearance, it felt like they were watching you for even being associated with him.

The whispers between women about it being scandalous, the chatter between men who felt imposing threat from Ghost merely standing there.

You didn’t know why, but a part of you felt more defensive than humiliated. Your image was one mocked for the entirety of your lifespan, but Ghost had done nothing to warrant it. Not to them, anyway. To you was a different story.

None of that mattered now, though. You were growing increasingly irritated at being looked upon like a circus act.

“Ignore it,” Ghost muttered. You almost didn’t quite catch it. “I can feel you gettin’ huffy.”

You scowled, crossing your arms and turning your head. Ghost paid you no mind, continuing to browse in the small shop you were in.

“I am not huffy,” you mumbled.

Ghost paused, turning his head towards you. He stared, eyes flickering over your face—first to your furrowed eyebrows, then to your narrowed eyes, then down to your lips tugged into a frown.

He snorted quietly through his nose, returning to his browsing.

The sound made you turn your head. Dare you say it sounded amused, though it could be your ears deceiving you.

You decided to ignore it. The last thing you wanted was to bring it up and have him reserve back to permanently scowling.

Ghost straightened up from the various knives he was looking at, uninterested. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

“Need anythin’?” he asked, sniffing.

You perked up, hand coming to rest on the small pouch resting on your hip. It contained the coins Gsz gifted you for clothing, as well as the surprise gift he requested of you.

Nothing came to mind on what to get him. You were clueless, and really didn’t want to owe him.

“Gaz was generous enough to give me coins to buy my own clothes,” you explained, shaking the pouch. Coins within the bag clanked together.

Ghost glanced down at the pouch. “I see,” he hummed, a touch of confusion in his words. Almost as if he was surprised.

He gestured with his head to follow him. The two of you left the quaint shop, stepping back out on to the dusty road. Ghost didn’t move from the entrance, and when you looked up at him, he was already looking at you.

A silent question. He was allowing you to make the choice on where to go.

Looking around, you realized you knew close to nothing about shopping for clothes. Not of these kind, anyway. You were used to the muted, colorless fabrics that never seemed to fit quite right.

You decided on a shop that displayed a variety of different clothes and colors in the windows. Some looked too delectable for your taste, and much too expensive, while some were more simple.

Stepping inside, the sight was positively overwhelming. Colors of all kinds lined the walls. Stuffed mannequins were pinned together with dresses.

Ghost seemed severely uncomfortable. You were elated. A taste of your own self was hidden somewhere within these walls, and you were going to find it.

“Go ahead,” Ghost gruffed from beside you. He shifted on his feet, eyes averting to nowhere. “Not my thing.”

You hummed in response, leaving to browse on your own accord. If Ghost didn’t seem to mind, then you wouldn’t rush yourself.

You took your time. You went through everything you can think of—greens, blues, purples, reds. None seem to fit you. Or more so, you wouldn’t fit with them.

Neutrals were their friends. Browns, grays, anything above the stars. So, naturally, that’s what you went for. Something to fit in and not stand out. You were facing that enough as is.

Once you focused your preference, you found quite a few options and went with what felt best.

Ghost watched you with muted curiosity as you fluttered around the store with a heap of clothes in your arms. He only looked away once he was caught.

As you were about to call your search a success, a glint of gold in the corner of your eye caught your attention. A beautiful miniature telescope sat locked away in a glass case, made from dark wood and detailed with an exquisite gold design.

The sight of it instantly reeled you in.

It was the perfect gift for Gaz. You came to learn that he had a love for the moon and stars, often leaving the room late at night to ponder beneath them. You knew you wouldn’t lose your game if you got it for him.

The only issue was that the price was hefty.

You looked down at your strew of clothes, contemplating. The coins in your pouch would be enough for your clothes, but not for the telescope as well.

The telescope called out to you, like a secret siren’s song pulling you into captivity. It chose you, and you chose it back.

Ultimately, you graciously returned some of the fabrics back to their original areas, leaving them tidy and neat. You approached Ghost with nothing more than a few clothings items, enough to get you by.

You were never materialistic anyway.

Ghost stood, silently observing but feigning disinterest as you made the big purchase for your clothes, then requested the telescope. He made no comment, eyes following your every move as you emptied the contents of your pouch, the coins clanking along the counter.

The merchant was happy to sell it to you, claiming that nobody seemed interested. You were pleased to hear that, and with a quick and easy exchange, the clothes and telescope were yours, placed carefully into Ghost’s bag.

“Is that it, then?” Ghost huffed, shifting the weight of the bag on his shoulder.

You nodded, satisfied with your purchases as you set off along the old roads to return to the rest of the crew.

As you walked, your eyes ventured along the way, taking in the varying crowds. Some mothers, some fathers, some alone on their own journeys. None paid you any mind.

Until one did.

A man. Not as tall as your crew, but certainly as threatening. His entire aura would be misty black if it was visible to the naked eye. His hair was a cropped mess on his head, brown like the dirt beneath your shoes.

His skin was scarred and tainted, dark eyes piercing into you. Even from a distance, you feared you’d combust into a bloodied, explosive mess just from the sheer look he gave you.

The worst was his smile. Cocky. Arrogant. Evil.

If death were a man, this would be its vessel.

His lips were moving, though you couldn’t hear him. He was too far away. It wasn’t until the wind bristled, rising goosebumps along your skin did you hear it. His voice traveled along the breeze until it whisked to your ears, flooding through.

“I’ll be seeing you, dove.”

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Just a little turned around.

Honestly, it wasn’t as if Y/N was defenceless.

It just so happened that on this one damn day, some asshole had managed to pickpocket her pouch. Not her wallet (that was back at the hotel), not her phone, just her money pouch, which contained the currency of the foreign country she was in. Being prepared and somewhat responsible, Y/N had only put in a day's worth of money into that pouch. In fact, it amazed her how he hadn't gone for her passport or even her phone. No, just the thing that would be most inconvenient for her.

Staring a hole into the ground, she pressed her fingertips to her forehead in an attempt to calm herself down and gather her thoughts. She had chased this slippery bastard all the way to this street where he turned the corner and into a dead end. Then he-, wait.

Y/N straightened up and her eyes darted around frantically. Where was she?

Nothing was familiar. A cafe on the cobbled stone street, a flower shop and a bakery. None of which she had seen before.

Wonderful, now, as well as having no money in a foreign country, she was bloody lost.

“Fuck me dead and sideways till Monday morning.” She huffed, while once again rubbing her forehead with her hand. Honestly, at this point, nothing could particularly get worse.

“That coul’ be arranged!” An accented voice called out from behind her. Scottish perhaps?

“Has a mouth on her.” Another replied in amusement while another voice just grunted in acknowledgement.

Y/N turned around to spit back a witty retort that quickly died on her lips.

“Uh..” She stuttered out intelligently.

Three men, each a prepossessing sight. One was wearing a cap, a blue denim jacket and some black jeans. He was brown eyed and dark skinned, nothing short of a model. His friend was leaning on him, crossed arms, a short mohawk, blue eyes, scruffy looking beard and a cheeky looking smirk. He donned a biker jacket with the small Scottish flag where his breast pocket would be and seemed to be wearing dog tags over his grey t-shirt. The last of them was a hulking man dressed fully in black, his face was obscured with a face mask akin to those of celebrities, however his presence was less of a star and more intimidating. Almost menacing. Maybe he was their bodyguard?

Y/N shook her head and replied,

“Yeah no thanks mate, I’ve got a bit on my plate at the moment, maybe in another life?” She nodded at the three before turning back around and walking towards the coffee shop.

“Oi, Bonnie, we can help ya if ya need. Besides, yer lookin' a bit peely wally.” The man with the mohawk called out.

“What the bloody hell are you on about mate.” Y/N asked, bewildered clearly not understanding the Scottish man's accent.

“ He thinks you look pale.” The large figure behind him rumbled helpfully.

Y/N blinked,

“Is he saying I look sickly?” She turned around and glowered at the man.

“No love, what we mean to say is, you look like you need some help?” The man with the baseball cap stepped forward carefully, as if not to spook her.

“Well, unless you’ve got a tracker dog, a body bag and a large metal pipe, I don't think you’re going to be much help to me.” She crossed her arms defiantly.

“Tha’ can be arranged bonnie.” The mischievous looking man grinned, stepping up while the man behind him followed while giving a non committal grunt.

“I’m Kyle, the annoying one is Johnny and that’s-”

“Simon.” The masked man grumbled while the other two threw a quick look at the third man.

She wrinkled her nose.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you.” She nodded at the men before sighing, “Alright, I’m here for a holiday, trying to feel out if I wanna move out here for work. I was just takin’ a look around when some asshat came up and fell on me and grabbed my money pouch.” She spoke quickly, somewhat embarrassed that she was admitting to three strangers that she had been duped so easily.

“Ah lovie, unless you remember what he looks like or what he was wearin’ s’ gonna be hard for you to get it back. Do you remember how much you had in there?”

She shrugged, “It was meant to get me lunch and dinner before I checked out of my current hotel to find another one. The rest of the cash is in my hotel room.” She hung her head and sighed.

“Honestly I just need to find my way back and then I can sleep over things. I can skip a meal or two.”

“Gonny no dae that!” Johnny exclaimed, “Yer look like yer already skippin’ meals lass. We’ll take you to lunch and dinner! We got nothin’ ta do anyways!”

The one dressed in all black, Simon was it? Grunted out an agreement.

“You ain't gonna find much around here. You’re not far away from the military base.”

“Whaddya you say love? Let us show you around?” Kyle hummed, cocking his head akin to a begging puppy.

Y/N quirked her lips in thought. Would it be a smart move to let these strangers escort her around? Was she hungry enough to make a questionable decision?

“Well…”

“We’re not strange men, we promise miss.” The taller Brit offered.

“That's exactly what a strange man would say LT.”Johnny quipped, earning a light bonk on the head from the taller man.

Y/N shoulders relaxed when they saw the playful display of banter between the men. Surely this meant they were safe. Right?

[toldrum]

Glamrock Sun & Moon (Pizzaplex Expansion AU)

nicknamed Sunset and Moonrise to distinguish them from the Jesters, and were once meant to REPLACE them as the daycare attendants. However, due to their… quirks, it was decided they would instead be stationed in the newly built Convention Plaza Building, acting as the Attendant for the Plaza Garden’s Planetarium.

read more about them below ig???

Both

They have British Accents.

They’re not huge fans of the Jesters they were based on.

Also not huge fans of children. Both for their own individual reasons. Which is why they ended up NOT replacing the Jesters.

They mutually own a motorcycle. How and why they have one, no one besides Faz. Co. knows. All ppl need to know is that it makes them look cool as fuck.

They LOVE Halloween.

Neither of them have a security mode like the Jesters do, as they do not have the same role in the Convention Plaza as the Daycare Attendants do in the Pizzaplex. This, however, does not mean they are incapable of protecting themselves and others.

They can’t travel around by wire like Sundrop and Moondrop, but they sure can climb.

Their mouth CAN open, however it does not open when they speak. It only opens when they switch out, “opening” in the sense that their teeth retract, and switch into the other’s respective style of teeth.

Their teeth light up when they speak. For Sunset they light up yellow, for Moonrise, light blue.

Moonrise (Glamrock Moon)

He, unlike Moondrop, is NOT Sméagol. He has expensive tastes and enjoys fashion, and is very calm and collected. He is perhaps the most passionate about his job as the attendant of the Planetarium.

Just because he is a cool, collected guy, it does not mean he is any less mischievous than Sunset — he has picked up on being observant and knowledgeable about the going-on’s within the Pizzaplex’ and Plaza’s networks, and has even tampered with his and Sunset’s hardware. At times, he acts a bit like an informant of sorts.

He is the main active AI of the body, as the planetarium is typically kept in the dark.

Dislikes children mainly for the fact that he sees them as viciously unclean creatures. It irritates him to no end when they are anywhere in or near the planetarium.

He was initially programmed to be a singer as well as a pianist and bassist.

A bit of a mentor figure for Bellatrix.

Sunset (Glamrock Sun)

He’s still just as bright and peppy as his counterpart, just a bit more mischievous. Well, a lot more, really. And he’s very good at not being caught.

THE enabler of bad habits. Between the two, when he has the spotlight, he won’t hesitate to either prank another animatronic or drag them along to do things they shouldn’t. He is perhaps Bellatrix’s worst enabler.

Might be a bit of an arsonist. Might feel the need to set things on fire. But it’s ok he’s got it under control… for now.

While he and Moonrise aren’t fans of their counterparts, he actually is able to tolerate and get along with Sundrop!

His reasoning for disliking children has to do with the fact that they’re weak, fleshy, and fragile — but also because he sees them as baggage keeping him from doing what he wants. He is perhaps the main reason why he and Moonrise did not replace the Jesters, as he was more likely to leave them unattended.

Initially programmed to be a singer as well as a drummer and guitarist.

[delcakoo]

i wish i was a baller ₊✩˚⊹ c.yj

ty @yenqa bae for the idea <3

SUMMARY ! being his longtime crush, when yeonjun and his pesky friends’ catch you walking past the court, he’s quick to try an impress you with one (un)lucky shot on hoop in exchange for your number.

PAIRING ! yeonjun x f!reader

WC ! 1.3k

GENRE ! cavity inducing fluff

a/n: c’mon now u have to listen to i wish after readin that title c:

“shit, look who it is yeonjun!”

the male in question was much too busy shouldering soobin to the ground, dribbling past his now groaning friend before slam-dunking his favorite orange ball through the hoop to listen to lame, old, beomgyu.

“let’s go!” yeonjun punches the air, running by his teammates to offer them high fives that they halfheartedly return. “another point for the yeonjunniez!”

“horrible fuckin’ team name,” taehyun murmurs, while kai only nods in tired agreement.

before yeonjun could force the group into another scrimmage, a strong hand grips his shoulder, redirecting him to face a barely visible figure that’s only steps away from reaching the basketball court’s end. beomgyu squeezes tighter, shaking him back and forth slightly. “don’t ignore me! you recognise who that is, right man?” squinting his eyes, yeonjun gasps as he takes in the familiar sight of your signature hairstyle and white headphones.

oh, he knew it was you alright. even if it was pitch black out — only street lamps illuminating the shady pathways — and you were clearly wearing all dark shades to blend in more, he knew.

“‘course, what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t know my girl when i see her?”

soobin, who’s still brushing off pebbles after his dramatic fall, rolls his eyes at the straight fibs coming out of his friend’s lips. “she barely knows you exist.”

“not for long.” before anyone could stop him or make him think at the very least, yeonjun has himself pressed against the chained wall of the court, fingers noisily locking through the metal in an attempt to grasp your attention. “y/n, is that you?”

when you swiftly turn at the sound of your name, looking adorably like a deer caught in headlights, yeonjun is reminded of just how head over heels he is.

“yeonjun..?” he’s never been so thankful to mr. sim assigning partners for projects, or else you still wouldn’t know your future boyfriend’s name! you look past him to take in the other boys who send you awkward waves, and yeonjun glares in annoyance at each and every one of them. what shitty wingmen.

“uh, yeah.. so, what’re you doing out here alone?”

with one more glance around the empty park, yeonjun nearly squeals as you begin walking closer, shoving your phone into your hoodie pocket smoothly. “j-just clearing my head i guess. what about you guys?” your stuttering gives him hope that perhaps you’re just as nervous as he is right now — leading a small smirk to etch across the boy’s lips.

“practising extra late since tryouts open soon,” he replies, gesturing to his friend group in the background. “they all kinda suck though.”

“thanks!” beomgyu spits back, but yeonjun could care less about his sarcastic comeback when it resulted in you letting out a soft chuckle. that was him by the way — he made you laugh!

in an attempt to give yeonjun more one on one time with you, the others had attempted to go back to playing (while still eavesdropping of course), but it was clear that their friend needed a little shove in the right direction.

taehyun moves closer, adjusting his black muscle top while offering you a mischievous grin. “say, y/n. if yeonjun here gets a three pointer, would you consider giving him your number?”

besides kai’s howling laughter in the distance, the court is frozen in tension, more specifically yeonjun — who’s jaw has practically dropped to his ass. this was not part of the plan, taehyun! attempting to bandage the wound, the raven haired boy smacks his friend, hoping the expression on your poor, confused face would falter at least a bit.

his ears burn bright red, and he can only pray the hood of his grey coat is deep enough to hide it. “i uh- sorry about that, you don’t— you don’t have to do anything—“

too busy manifesting some way to travel back in time and tape taehyun’s mouth shut, yeonjun fails to notice the amused smile creeping its way to your lips. “no, it’s okay. you can try if you want.”

soobin and beomgyu share a horrified glance, just how is this working?

yeonjun blinks, holding a bewildered yet determined look in his pupils. “i— you mean like, to shoot?” he blabbers in disbelief.

you shrug. “why not?” and before he knows it, the ball is forced into his grip by a snickering soobin, who attempts to relieve his friend’s shoulders that are tenser than he’s ever seen them with a swift massage.

little did he know that you found it almost as endearing as the way yeonjun’s teeth nibble onto his bottom lip as he gets into position, crouching with precision before jumping, releasing the basketball with a flick of his wrists.

the orange ball flies for a bit before landing right on the hoop’s ring, bouncing across it loudly, spinning around for a bit before—

“shit..” beomgyu murmurs in horror, watching how the ball flops pathetically off the side of the ring along with the other five pairs of eyes.

yeonjun refuses to believe this.

sinking down to his knees, nails frustratingly glide through his bangs while a pained groan leaves his lips. “i didn’t miss a single fucking shot earlier,” he winces, “but of course when it actually matters i fuck up.”

god, he was so cute — it was all you could think to yourself as you paced closer, squatting next to the boy’s destressed form all while lightly patting his shoulder. when yeonjun lifts his head, his eyes widen at the closeness of your face being mere centimetres from his. for a second, he thinks he might just pass out on the spot, up until you pull out a pen from your pocket, grinning cutely as usual.

when you open up your palm, it takes him a minute to realize you were asking for his hand.

ever so carefully, yeonjun places his hand in your grasp, breath stuttering at the feeling of his crush’s fingers wrapping comfortingly around his wrist. “what- what are you..” he gulps when you bend a bit closer to begin scribbling something right across the softness of his pale skin, glancing up at his friend’s with a face of utter disbelief who only give him an equally gobsmacked look in return.

suddenly, you’re releasing him and standing back to full height, pen being shoved casually into the embrace of your black hoodie as if you hadn’t just narrowly avoided giving the poor boy a heart attack moments prior. “yeonjun, i was gonna give it to you either way,” you snort.

wait, what? did he just go through the five stages of grief for nothing?

all he can do is watch with eyes gaped as you slowly march back towards the entrance, only snapping out of it when beomgyu pulls his arm up to investigate the nine numbers inked across his hand. “bro.. you did it.” he states it as if yeonjun had just solved world hunger, shaking his friend frantically.

“i.. i did it?” he repeats dumbly.

it seems as though he can’t get a break; now soobin’s the one pushing him towards the entrance. “go on, dipshit!” he exclaims, “it’s pitch black out there, walk her home!”

this has yeonjun’s expression changing from dumbstruck to full on panic, nearly tripping on his own shoelaces as he sprints out to catch up to your now-far-away form, grey hood falling off and finally revealing his bright red ears in the process.

there was no doubt that he looked insane — lighting or not. “she has him wrapped around her finger, huh?” kai can’t help but cackle once more.

soobin takes a shot, easily making a dunk with the help of his height before sighing in agreement. “oh, absolutely.”

if you enjoyed, reblogs and feedback’s always appreciated <3

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

perm taglist: @duolingofanaccount @strawberry-sunset-skies @scented-morker @koshinene @boowoowho @sultrybaby @yunjinlvrr @kynrki @yujiecho @monstaxdirtywonk @dekusgirl @taejays @luvhyun3 @yjjungwon @miou45 @rosie-is-everywhere @yenqa @rosenatorfirst @millsielovesgyu @syrxiee2 @ily-cuz-i @soobin-chois @wtfhyuck @hoonvrs @gyuuberryy @bucketofhiros @xtra-cheese @vmprshlvr

[beomiracles]

heyy, can u do a med student reader x idol txt pair becuz i need to feed my delusions lol, also i love ur work sm :)

「 C'MON NURSE 」

DREAM RECALL “I…I don’t know if…if it’s something I should..” — “oh come one”, he leans forward as the smirk on his lips only grows, “don’t tell me you can’t have a little fun, nurse?” 

wc -> 1.6k

pairings idol!yeonjun x medstudent!gn!reader warnings none !

#serene adds ✎... ah this has taken me forever to get around to and I sincerely apologise >.< I had to research a bit for this one, so if I've gotten any facts wrong feel free to point them out ! part 2 with smut when? ahah joking (probably)

Wiping your sweaty palms on your white robe, you try your best to steady your breathing. The hospital was bustling with life, patients crowding the hallways and the phones at the front desks chimed nonstop. In other words it was a busy day, an extremely busy one — much so that you had received a most unique task. 

Five weeks into your internship at the hospital you had been assigned your first patient. To say that you were nervous would be an understatement. Still, you knew that this was how your work days were going to look like, once you finished med school. And while nervosity built in your stomach with each step, you also felt giddy with excitement. 

The contrasting feelings combined made for an almost electrifying buzz to course through your body. Once you reach the small room you had been assigned, realization sets in and you have to swallow a small gulp. With a trembling hand on the door, you take one final deep breath before swinging it open. 

Upon stepping inside you’re met with a young man, possibly in his mid twenties, sitting on the stretcher as his legs sway mindlessly in front of him. His head snaps in your direction and as your gaze meets his you’re taken aback by how handsome he was. Were all your future patients going to be this good looking? 

A small awkward smile presents itself on your lips and you give a rather stale introduction. The man grins as he stretches his hand out, “Choi Yeonjun”, he says as you take his hand. His grip was firm and you almost lost track of yourself as you allowed your eyes to linger on his own. 

“Didn’t know they had nurses this young”, he comments as he eyes you with a mischievous glint. Your face suddenly flushes with color and you awkwardly clear your throat, desperately hoping he couldn’t tell. “I’m a med student, I just happen to be doing my internship here..” you explain as you flatten out your white robe nervously. “Though I am working to become a fully trained nurse and.. and I do have the necessary skills to help you today”, you quickly add, cursing yourself for stammering. 

Yeonjun smirks, “I don’t doubt it, nurse.” Perhaps it was your nerves speaking, or the fact that the man before you was undoubtedly attractive — but you could have sworn that his voice held an almost flirtatious tone. Shaking your head slightly, you will such thoughts away as you turn your attention to your work. 

“May I ask what brought you here today?” Bringing out a small moveable table of utensils to busy yourself as Yeonjun begins explaining. “Well my left shoulder has been hurting immensely recently, I think I might’ve accidentally tore it on stage and–” 

“On stage?” 

The questions slips from your lips and you almost slap a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from interfering further. Yeonjun doesn’t seem to mind as he smirks, “I’m a dancer”, he says as he watches your expression morph from surprise to something more of an embarrassed one. A dancer? Your mind immediately began racing with thoughts that probably weren’t appropriate in your current situation. 

Upon noting your flustered expression Yeonjun chuckles, “not that kind of dancer I assure you.” Nodding gingerly you mumble out a quiet “no of course not..” How silly of you to jump to such conclusions; and about a patient no less. You could only hope that he didn’t make a complaint to your boss. 

“I’m a singer too”, he then adds in a seemingly unbothered voice and your eyes snap back to him in evident curiosity. He frowns, “have you not heard of our group?” he asks to which you shake your head, surely you would remember such a handsome man. Yeonjun purses his lips as he gives a small shrug, “tomorrow by together, sound familiar?” 

Once again you shake your head, rather embarrassed over your lack of general knowledge. Your patient doesn’t sound offended, “what a shame, nurse”, he grins. You thought he had a nice voice, so it would make sense for him to be a singer. But a singer and a dancer? Well that was impressive. 

“Do you mind telling me for how long and during which occasions you have been experiencing these pains?” you ask as you sanitize your hands once more. “Eh, about a week, maybe a little more”, Yeonjun ponders, “it hurts almost whenever I use my left arm, quite a bitch to train with.” 

Nodding along with his words your mind rummages through possible solutions. “I’ll need to examine both your shoulder and the mobility of your arm in order to determine how severe your tear is”, you explain and Yeonjun nods. “Would you need me to take off my shirt, nurse?” he asks as a smirk tugs at his lips. 

“Ah, that won’t be necessary”, you assure him as you feel your cheeks heat up. “I’ll only need your left arm to be free.” — “Alright” he shrugs as he wriggles his left arm free from his shirt, which inevitably rides up his stomach, exposing his perfectly toned torso. You have to pry your eyes from wandering and instead focus on his injured shoulder. 

“Do you mind me touching you?” Despite only executing your work, you thought consent played an important part in getting treatment. “Please do”, Yeonjun smirks and from the corner of your eye you could’ve sworn you saw him throw you a small wink. Gulping, you give yourself three mental slaps — it was just work. If you couldn’t stay professional when a slightly attractive patient entered the room then how were you to do this for a living. 

Get it together, a small voice in your head hisses and you couldn’t agree with it more. You try your best to focus on his shoulder, fingers moving across his soft skin to prod and squeeze at the flesh. Upon pushing against a particular spot, Yeonjun flinches away from your touch and you give him a knowing glance, “here?”, he nods. 

“You’ve most likely tore a tendon”, you state as your fingers continue to prod around the area. Yeonjun frowns, “a what?” You give him a dismissal wave of your hand as you motion for him to lift his arm, earning a painful grimace from him. “If you’re lucky it’s only partially torn, meaning it has yet to detach from your bone.” Yeonjun’s lips part in surprise, “that can happen?” You give him a small nod, “indeed it can.” 

You continue to move his arm in several directions, all leading to groans of pain from your patient. “But judging from the way you can move it, I’d say you’re quite lucky.” Yeonjun gives you a look of disbelief and you have to resist the urge to giggle. “How’s your strength? Can you lift things as normal, disregarding the pain of course?” He looks thoughtful for a moment before nodding, “yeah I can do everythin’, just hurts like a motherfucker”, he grimaces. 

“Well it’s a good thing you came in as early as you did”, you say as you let go of his shoulder and motion for him to pull his shirt back on. “If you had continued to put pressure on your torn tendon it might’ve just ripped entirely.” Yeonjun sighs as he gives his shirt a final tug , “so what’s your prognosis, nurse?” 

“Well, firstly you’ll need to rest”, you note as you get up to open one of the cabinets, rummaging through the variety of medications, “and if you desire to keep training then all activities regarding any use of your shoulder must be excluded.” Upon returning with a small package Yeonjun lets out a huff, “then how do I dance?” he questions to which you shake your head, “you don’t.” 

“You sure there’s no way around this, nurse?” he pouts and you shake your head once more. Running his good hand through his dark hair, Yeonjun looks at you, “that’s a shame, I was hopin’ to ask you to attend our concert next week”, he admits and you blink in surprise. He was going to ask you what? 

“I, I uhm, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of opportunities once you’re recovered..” your brain is foggy as you scramble for words to form at least one coherent sentence. Yeonjun’s lips curl into a smirk as he eyes your flushed expression, “then, can I convince you to see me for coffee instead?” 

His bold questions keep catching you off guard and you fiddle with the medication in your hands. “I…I don’t know if…if it’s something I should..” — “oh come one”, he leans forward as the smirk on his lips only grows, “don’t tell me you can’t have a little fun, nurse?” 

Suddenly you begin to feel as if the room might’ve emptied its supply of air; your face growing increasingly hot by the second as you avoid his lustful gaze. “I uh…I’ll prescribe you some ibuprofen”, you quickly turn to the small desk in an attempt to shield your very telling face, “it helps with inflammation, take them together with your meals for the next three weeks, it’ll reduce any swelling as well as pain”, you ramble as your trembling fingers sign the necessary papers. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn back to Yeonjun who was watching you with an amused expression. You hand him the small package and watch his smirk double in size as his eyes scan the small paper. “You got it, nurse.” 

It isn’t until the doors to your small room closes behind him that you breathe out the sigh you had been holding in for the past thirty minutes. But as your breathing steadies, your heart continues to race. Was it such a good idea to have written your phone number on the prescription paper? 

As your phone buzzes in your back pocket you realize that it most definitely was.

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[happilyhertale]

A royal encounter - Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell

Summary: Daemon had a great idea to bring a breath of fresh air into your marriage. But his plans were thwarted.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; oral f receiving, fingering (f in v and f in a), p in v sex, p in a sex

Author’s note: To celebrate the one year anniversary of my very first posted story, I've decided to finally post the Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell story.... I hope you like it! And… Thanks for reading my stories for a year! 🖤 I am very happy that you still want to read my stories!

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 3.3 k

Other stories of mine

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You cling to the railing with your hands. Daemon's hands dig into your hips almost unpleasantly, the marks of his fingernails will be visible for a long time. His thrusts slowly subside and his breath comes heavily. A warm breeze envelops you, here on the balcony of your old chambers. You have sought a little excitement, escaping the boring ball that has lured many lords and ladies to King's Landing. That's how Daemon came to practically push you into your old chambers for a bit of excitement.

You are both still breathing heavily as Daemon slowly pulls out of you. His soft laugh rings out as he gently kisses your nose.

But then this gentle moment is interrupted as someone applauds you and a clap is heard.

For a second Daemon's gaze meets yours before he looks over his shoulder and sees Prince Oberyn Martell standing in the middle of the chambers. He grins, "Perhaps I should have tried harder to seduce a Targaryen princess after all," Prince Oberyn says cheekily. In one movement Daemon pulls his trousers completely up and spins around, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, is the Prince of Dorne trying to make a pass at my wife?" hisses Daemon.

A gasp escapes you and you try to hide your naked body behind Daemon's. Your gaze wanders, searching for your dress, which Daemon had torn off you just moments before.

As Prince Oberyn chuckles, "No... But now that I've seen how much fun you've had, I wish I'd had it too," he says to him. Daemon's gaze falls slightly over his shoulder, seeing you trying to cover your body. He sees you reaching for your dress, which is lying on the floor.

He looks back at Oberyn and his mood suddenly seems more relaxed. He starts to button up his shirt, "I think we were just looking for a little excitement here," Daemon replies.

"But..," Daemon adds suddenly, "if you want to join us, I could certainly be persuaded."

You are pulling up your dress and frowning when you hear his words, "Daemon? Did you just invite Prince Oberyn to a threesome?" you ask him a little shocked.

Daemon hears your words, but before he can say anything back, Oberyn intervenes. 

"A threesome?" asks Prince Oberyn with a grin, "I would have thought you were a jealous husband rather than an adventurous one...". Oberyn's words echo through the chambers and your eyes fall on Daemon again. You know he can be jealous, but this time something else is reflected in his eyes.

Daemon chuckles softly, "We could have a good time in these old chambers here," he says mischievously, "It might make everything a little more exciting." Daemon turns slightly, looking you straight in the eye, "What do you think? Is the Prince of Dorne a threat to our marriage?" he asks you gently. His thumb gently strokes your cheek.

You are not easily embarrassed, but this idea makes you blush. You bite your lip lightly, the pulsing between your legs reignited. Prince Oberyn was a handsome man. No less handsome than your husband, but in total contrast.

"No... he's not a threat. I only love you..." you say softly to Daemon.

Your gaze drifts to Prince Oberyn and his mischievous grin jumps out at you. He begins to unbutton his shirt and his lightly tanned chest is revealed. It is a stark contrast to your fair skin. Gently he brushes his shirt off his shoulders, revealing muscles that are rather small compared to Daemon's – he is defined but slender in stature. You step forward and stand next to Daemon.

But Daemon's gaze follows Oberyn's actions as he unbuttons his shirt, looking at his wife. He sees pure lust in Oberyn's eyes, the brown of his eyes barely discernible – his pupils dilated with lust.

Daemon notices how handsome Oberyn is and feels an excitement welling up inside him.

Oberyn's gaze falls on Daemon's face and notices Daemon trying to hide his excitement, but he sees his eyes fixed on the scene before him. A smile spreads across Oberyn's face. Oberyn walks towards you and slowly kneels on the ground in front of you.

You gasp briefly as his gaze goes up to you and he smiles at you. His hands reach for your dress and slowly begin to lift it.

The blush on your face continues to spread to your cleavage. Never has another man been about to touch you like this.

As Oberyn's voice brings you back to reality, "The blush is much more visible on your pale skin, Princess," he murmurs, "No need to be nervous, you'll enjoy it"

You bite your lip, even though you don't want to be nervous, you feel it flood through you.

You feel Daemon behind you, his hands on your shoulder. His thumbs glide gently over the crook of your neck. However unfamiliar this situation may be, Daemon's touch soothes you.

"Well?" asks Oberyn suddenly, "Do you want me to have her?" 

Your eyes slide from Oberyn's to Daemon's purple eyes. Slightly peeking over your shoulder, your lips meet, "I want you both, Daemon..." you whisper against his lips.

Oberyn chuckles lightly as he lifts your dress further. You're not wearing any undergarments and as Oberyn pushes your dress up to your hips, your light pubic hair is revealed.

"Mmm, the silver hair of the Targaryens..." he murmurs, pressing his face into it. A smile crosses his face, the smile of an artist when he sees the masterpiece he has created. 

You gasp as Oberyn presses his face into your pubic area. You exhale heavily, watching Oberyn enjoy the warmth of your private parts.

Daemon watches Oberyn and a slight, excited growl forms in his chest. Your previous words, "I want you both," also add to his arousal. Daemon's lips gently touch your neck as his hands begin to slide your dress down from your shoulders.

Prince Oberyn lets his tongue slide slowly through your womanhood. His fingers gently pull apart your folds so he can fully enjoy you.

You moan as you feel Oberyn's tongue find your bundle of nerves and gently circle it.

A "mmhmm" sounds from Oberyn as he pushes his face further into you. Your breath quickens as you feel Daemon lightly bite the soft skin of your neck and Oberyn circles his tongue faster. Your moans echo through the chambers.

When Oberyn suddenly lets go of your warm core and you whimper in disappointment. Your eyes fall on Oberyn, who looks up at you. His lips are glistening with your juice. Slowly he stands up and begins to open his trousers. Meanwhile Daemon lets your dress fall to the floor. His hands slide to your breasts, massaging them lightly. His thumbs and fingers grip your nipples, teasing them lightly. His lips continue to caress your neck as another moan leaves your lips.

You are now standing naked in front of them both. And your teeth don't want to release your lip. As Oberyn takes one of your hands and leads you away from Daemon. You take a step and slip out of your dress, which is lying at your feet. Slowly he leads you to the bed.

You climb onto the bed and Oberyn, who is naked himself, lies down beside you and begins to caress your body with his fingers. You see how Oberyn's hot length is already aroused and unlike Daemon's, a dark ring surrounds his size. You can't resist, you run your fingers through the hair. Oberyn grins at you and now he lightly bites his lip.

Your eyes fall on Daemon and you watch as his gaze is fixed on you. A shiver runs down your spine as you see his gaze follow Oberyn's fingers on your skin. Daemon begins to undress, his eyes never leaving you. First his shirt falls, revealing his muscular torso. The scars from all the battles won litter his pale skin. Your arousal rises immensely. As Daemon undresses from the waist down and his arousal immediately springs free, you moan. The way Daemon stands in front of you and Oberyn's fingers find their way between your thighs is too exciting.

Daemon's attention is on you, the love of his life, and the tanned man next to you, caressing you on the bed and sliding his fingers through your wetness. Daemon comes towards you with long strides, gently sliding himself onto the bed with you. His fingers find your hips, reach into your curves as he begins to play around your nipple with his tongue. You moan again as his teeth begin to nibble lightly. 

Daemon's lips slowly glide up your neck. A game of kisses and light bites until he encloses your lips. You breath into his mouth as Oberyn slides his hand to your bottom and turns you to Daemon. You lie on your side, your hand glides over Daemon's chest to his neck while your tongues dance wildly around each other. Oberyn brushes your silver hair aside and begins to kiss your neck softly. His fingers slide down your thigh, until his hand reaches the curves of your bottom and grips firmly. You whimper into Daemon's mouth. Oberyn releases your butt cheek and lets his fingers slide between your thighs. You whimper again as he covers his finger with your wetness and slides it to your butt hole. He applies light pressure and your whimpering repeats itself.

His fingers are slick with your wetness, easing the way as they tease the sensitive spot. He wants to push you further, to see how far you're willing to go. Experimentally, he stroked his fingers against your hole.

Oberyn's breath hitches as your hips begin to move slightly. A soft sound comes from you and your bottom presses lightly against his finger, your slight gasp sending a wave of satisfaction through him. He pressed a little harder, his finger slowly sliding into your tight, forbidden entrance.

The feeling of you around his finger, it all fueled his desire, igniting a primal need within him. He let out a low grunt in response, his own pleasure intertwining with yours.

He could feel his own cock hardening almost painfully, aching for the intense pleasure that only you could provide at the moment. The sound of your whimpering, your vulnerability and need, only served to heighten his own desire to please you.

Daemon's fingers mirror Oberyn's movements as his fingers slide between your legs. His attention is on your clit at first until he slides them inside you. You hear him growl softly as he feels the walls of your cunt already clenching around his fingers.

Daemon looks at you with slightly parted lips, enjoying the sight of ecstasy on your face. "You always take my fingers so well inside of you," Daemon mumbles a little breathlessly, "just like my tongue... My cock"

You whimper again and your fingers grab his biceps.

Daemon growls again and his gaze falls on Oberyn, who grunts slightly as he slides his fingers into your butthole.

"The princess is so tight," Oberyn murmurs and Daemon feels a tingle inside him as he hears the words. You gasp and bite your lip lightly as Oberyn's fingers thrust deeper, his warm breath on your neck.

Daemon lets his lips meet yours again, both of you breathing heavily, his fingers thrusting faster into you, completely wet with your juices. He starts to insert another finger into you and you moan almost desperately. The sensation of your wetness coating his fingers only fueled his desire further, knowing that you are becoming more and more receptive to his touch. He elicits a long whine from you as he curls his digits against your sensitive walls.

You feel the fingers thrusting into you. But this time it's so much more than usual. Daemon's fingers keep rubbing over the rough part of your wet walls, making you whimper, while Oberyn's fingers keep stretching your tight hole, awakening the feeling inside you that you need to feel so much more.

You moan out loud and before you've fully realised it, you feel Daemon's fingers pull out of you and slide his hot length through your wet folds. You whimper slightly each time he grazes your sensitive pearl. You moan even louder as he presses lightly against your entrance and you whimper again at the thought of how perfectly he will fill you.

"I think the princess will be perfectly filled tonight," Oberyn whispers, followed by a slight chuckle, as if he can read your mind. His lips still pressed against your neck as his fingers continue to explore your depths.

Daemon thrusts hard into you and your walls give way to his size. Daemon grunts loudly as he's back in his warm, soft home. His large hand slides to the back of your thigh, but you are distracted by the penetrating thrusts. He grabs your thigh and guides your leg closer to his body, placing your knee on his hip so he can penetrate you deeper.

He thrusts forward again and again, conjuring up the sweetest whimpering noises from you.

When you suddenly feel Oberyn's fingers leave your tight hole, you almost feel an emptiness inside you that needs to be filled. But then you feel his cock sliding along between your thighs from behind. Again and again he rubs it through your wet folds, soaking it with your wetness, while Daemon continues to thrust into your cunt.

Oberyn's cock throbbed with desire while his lips are still pressed against your neck. His breathing becomes heavier and you feel the warmth on the soft skin of your neck as he positions himself at your tight entrance.

You're slightly distracted by Daemon's thrusts and grunts, but you feel Oberyn begin to press the tip of his cock against your butt hole. You cry out slightly, but it ends in a long moan.

With a deep, primal grunt, he presses the tip of his cock against the entrance, feeling the resistance and tightness that awaits him. The whimpers and moans escaping your lips only fuelled his desire, his own need becoming unbearable.

But your butthole quickly gives way. Still slightly stretched by Oberyn's fingers, it almost greedily envelops the tip of his cock. You hear Oberyn moaning in your ear, breathing heavily.

"Gods... Princess... I haven't even been all the way inside you yet and you already feel so divinely tight," Oberyn murmurs breathlessly – you can only whimper.

Oberyn follows Daemon's rhythm and every time Daemon pushes your pelvis backwards, Oberyn takes the opportunity. Your bottom is pushed towards Oberyn again and again and each time he thrusts a little harder to meet your movements.

You feel yourself getting restless and your hand suddenly reaches for Oberyn's bottom. Your hand grips his small, firm bottom and squeezes gently. Oberyn continues to thrust slowly but firmly and you are caught up in the feeling of wanting to feel him deeper, but the slight pain forces you to take it slowly. But your hand starts to push him closer to you as a mix of whimpers and moans leave you. Oberyn stretches you further and further and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

With one final, powerful thrust, Oberyn conquers your tight hole and moans loudly. You cry out briefly, but the pain quickly subsides and gives way to pure pleasure. You realise how completely filled you are. Daemon and Oberyn are now thrusting in unison and you are trapped in their grips – and you don't want it to end. You put your head back and Oberyn immediately turns his attention back to your neck. He bites in lightly as he thrusts into your tight hole.

"Gods... Gods... fuck..." leaves his lips again and again.

With a primal instinct, he grabs your hips and slides closer to you. His thrusts now go deeper. He savours your tightness and the pleasure he brings you. The sound of your soft cries and moans fill the air as Daemon and Oberyn thrust into you, driving them both even further into a state of primal lust.

Daemon's hand is still on your thigh, lifting it slightly as he thrusts into your cunt. Oberyn's fingers grip your hips tighter as his thrusts penetrate you from behind.

Daemon grunts to himself, feeling the unusual resistance on his cock every time Oberyn thrusts into you and it turns him on. He thrusts harder and feels your cunt literally pulsating. His hand slides from your thigh to your breast, gripping it tightly as his lips slam onto yours. A wild kiss, accompanied by whimpers and moans, unfolds between you.

Your foot slides to the back of his thigh, wanting to pull him closer, needing to feel him deeper.

Daemon breathes heavily and grunts as your kiss ends. His eyes are fixated on the sight of you taking Oberyn's cock up your ass as he continues to fuck your cunt. The combination of your actions, the raw lust emanating from you, elicits a primal moan from deep within him.

With each thrust, he feels the lust building inside him and the need for release becomes almost unbearable. But he wants to savour this moment, savour your pleasure, revel in the intoxicating connection you share. Daemon's hand lets go of your breast and slides to your leg again.

His grip is firm and so are his thrusts, which become more intense and violent. The sound of your moans and the beginning trembling of your thighs only fuel his desire and bring him even closer to the edge.

You feel that you are about to come. The sensation of being filled in both holes is almost too much and you feel the familiar pressure spreading through your abdomen.

"Yes... Come on my cock," Daemon grunts, " Show me how good it feels for you to be filled like this," he grunts as his cock starts to twitch dangerously as well. Oberyn starts grunting behind you. He can feel your whole abdomen literally start to clench. His hand slides from your hip to your warm core. You look down, breathing heavily, and see Daemon thrusting into you and Oberyn's fingers begin to rub your clit. You are a moaning mess. The pressure inside you becomes almost unbearable.

"Be an obedient wife... come while our cocks fill you," Oberyn grunts in your ear as his fingers rub faster.

You only whimper, followed by a loud moan.

"I'm going to fill you up, princess... My seed will fill this tight hole," Oberyn grunts further, thrusting deeper.

And then you come, your cunt clenches around Daemon's cock, milking him and driving him over the edge with you. He growls and grunts loudly, pumping his cum deep into your cunt with deep thrusts.

Oberyn follows shortly after you and dresses your dark walls in white. He bites the back of your neck and immerses himself in the sensation. The grips on your body are firm, the feeling wonderful.

You whimper softly as the grunting around you slowly dies down. There is a smell of sweat and sex in the air. Heavy breathing echoes off the walls. Your light whimpers come to a climax as the two of them slowly pull out of you. Exhausted, you let yourself sink against Daemon's chest while Oberyn lies on his back, breathing heavily. His hand rests on your bum, stroking it gently.

"Maybe I should visit King's Landing more often after all..." mumbles Oberyn as he looks up at the ceiling.

Your eyes are closed, but instead of a reply, you hear a slight chuckle from Daemon.

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[aveloka-draws]

I would like to preface this with an apology for the Asgardian-sized wall of text I want to throw at you. If you've ever seen the movie Hot Fuzz, I just had a massive brain wave in regards to that recent interaction you made between the Lamb and Theon. So here we go, lots to unpack.

What I find very curious about that little interaction was how unintentionally massive its impact was. It was just a short exchange between the two but the ramifications could be severe. Whether the Lamb meant to or not, they might have made the situation for Theon significantly worse or perhaps more accurately, far more unstable and given their own current nature, that is not too surprising. Theon was suspicious that Leshy is hiding something and the Lamb says 'Do you want me to tell you what it is?'. The Lamb just confirmed that Leshy is hiding something. Now in all fairness the Lamb could be lying from Theon's perspective. Getting some kicks out of their followers and seeing the madness unfold is becoming of them. However that likelihood is vastly nill. The Lamb seems to like Theon for starters and thus would not be inclined to lie in the first place. Plus regardless of the Lamb's intents, they are the Leader. So by default, Theon is inclined to believe their word.

Thus with that statement, the situation is already far worse. Now Theon knows Leshy is in fact hiding something, and his brain can start to work the pieces out. He is not a stupid cat by any means, and he can already tell that the area of soreness relies around Darkwood. That is where Leshy seems to clam up. He already suspects they were a disciple and given Theon's nightmares, this narrows his suspicions down. If Theon wished to really investigate this down to its roots, he could go behind the scenes to attempt to acquire a tiny dot of ichor. He wouldn't need much, all he'd need is a single drop to taste. Hopefully in a dose that would not burn his insides like those of the uninitiated. Whether that meant striking a deal with a disciple or through the Lamb, who knows how. But if he tasted it he could compare it against the taste of Leshy's 'odd' blood and tell how similar they tasted. If the taste was close, Theon would have his answer and from there the harrowing realities only close in with two distinct scenarios. Bad case, Leshy was in fact a disciple of the God of Chaos. Worst case, he was that God. Thing is, if Theon was really paying attention he'd have his answer without Leshy saying anything at all.

Whether Leshy realizes it or not, he completely revealed his identity by waiting to tell Theon. Leshy waited this long to tell Theon anything, by this point they have grown extremely close. Had Leshy told Theon who he was, shortly after they met or starting getting close, the impact would be far less significant. Theon would have been shocked, gone through his reactions, and likely distanced himself. However, now they're both madly in love. By waiting this long Leshy has single-handedly sown as much Chaos into Theon's life as he possibly could, thus betraying his efforts and revealing his true nature. Theon has now an impossibly difficult situation to contend with. He has been in love with the very god that he was to be sacrificed for. In all technical details there really is no reason why Theon cannot continue to love him. Leshy would never hurt Theon intentionally nor do something truly egregious against him. However the very fact that Leshy has put Theon in the situation where he has to relive his nightmares everyday is only made worse by the inescapable chaos that surrounds Leshy. Whenever Theon gazes upon him, he knows chaos will follow. Suddenly all of his actions will enter a new light. The five-finger fillet, the midnight hi-jinks, other follows becoming mischievous. It turns from, "Leshy is just a bit out there." to, "He is Chaos incarnate." Theon, should he continue by Leshy's side, would have to live with that everyday for the rest of his life. No matter how much Leshy attempts to change himself it's impossible to escape the chaos, it's akin to commanding a Sunflower to cease being a plant. Chaos is in Leshy's nature. Asking him to subdue the chaos would mean he ceases to be Leshy. It's the classic paradox of the very thing that drew Theon in in the first place is now the most painful reality.

Whether the divorce truly happens or not, as our expectations could be subverted, Theon will never be the same afterward. He will have to find some way to make peace with the nightmares one way or another, and accept that chaos will follow him no matter how good a life he lives. It is quite fascinating too. Leshy is now responsible for damning a second loved one to Hell.

I thank you again for your amazing work and taking the time to read this.

Dont apologize i loved this i agree thank you for the asgardian sized wall of text hshsh

[rensblade]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅.

⟢ warnings/notes: wriothesley x fem! reader. suggestive, minors & ageless blogs do not interact. briefly proofread.. this is my first post, so i'd really appreciate any type of feedback! enjoy, and happy (very) late halloween to everyone celebrating ✩

“my.. what big ears you have,” you exhaled with a soft sigh, your hands raking through his two-toned locks as he continued nipping at your your chest. pretty shades of purple love-bites scatter across the canvas laid out to him, and wriothesley places a final kiss onto the last spot, before pulling away to fixate his darkened gaze onto yours.

by now, perhaps you should've been prepared to expect the array of hickeys that would follow; after all, you chose to don a dress with a pretty low neckline, and hence, your tits sat prettily all there for him to just devour.

still, since you asked so nicely, your boyfriend had been more than careful so as to not to rip the fabric of this specific red dress; you wore today in order to match with his costume— you, the red riding hood, as he was supposed to be the big bad wolf tonight.

“all the more to listen to you scream, sweetheart.” wriothesley chuckles against your collarbone as he lets his hold from your waist trail down; cold fingertips trailing ghostly kisses on your skin as his hands slowly make their way under your red dress.

it makes you shudder— how easily he tears apart the lace of your stockings, before he spreads your thighs using one large hand.

the mere action sends your body into a slight arch, as you tighten your claw onto his biceps in anticipation. you struggled to steady yourself on his lap; it didn't help the fact you could feel his length poke at your ass at the very moment. you weren't complaining.

archons, not to mention the mischievous glint of his eye. well. since he was already very much in character, you tug into his fur coat, letting it drop to the floor, agonizingly slow.

pale cerulean eyes remain trained on your face in order to memorize all your reactions into memory. wriothesley wordlessly admires the frustrated pout you give him, upon noticing another layer of clothing clinging onto his muscular chest. the man only laughs, the sound reverberating through both your flushed chests; making you send a small smile his way in defeat.

he was prettiest like this— while you were both mutually worshiping your bodies. although, you admit, he had always remained insistent on doing the most for you, kissing your palms in reassurance whenever he would was done with drawing out countless lewd sounds from you.

arrays of less-than-holy thoughts invade your senses, you couldn't help it. you were desperate to show him how badly you wanted him. how good you could be for him. without much thought, your hands fondle with his upper body as if to urge him on to undress himself.. and you.

“and what big hands you have..”

it's no doubt he catches onto your little game. either ways, wriothesley is more than happy to play right into your hands.

“oh, these?” his mock-interested tone fills the air, the lopsided smile you loved so much making you want to melt into him. “all the more to touch you. like this,” his focus goes back to the hold he had on your thighs, squeezing them softly.

the action makes you bite back a sound, while unsatisfied grunt from him follows, before his grip tightens onto the exposed flesh; his shrewd hands exploring their way down from where you're seated atop him. “and all the more to help undress you.. of course.”

it didn't help how kept whispering all that into your neck, his tone dropping in octave as he too, breathes a bit heavier. your lover's voice was all gruff and delicious from the intense making out you did prior so of course he used it to his advantage. he knew of the effect his voice had on you, sly wolf.

so you only bat your lashes up at him, starry eyes and all, in your little now-bunched-up dress, as you feign innocence in order to ask him the third and final question— your thighs clenching in growing anticipation. his large palm stays slotted in place between them, where they rightfully belong.

you finally ask, in a more dazed manner than you intended to. “my.. and what a big mouth you have, surely not only for all that bragging, i assume?”

wrong move. this time, he doesn't laugh. instead, the man steadies your disheveled form up by the arms, until you feel yourself being dropped onto the soft mattress of his sofa.

it was then, you swear you could've seen wriothesley lick his lips, as he positions himself in between where his hands had been mere seconds ago— as he mumbles under his breath.

"all the more to eat you, my love."

rensblade, 2023. please do not steal my writings or headers, i put a lot of effort into this. reblogs & comments are appreciated! also, my drafts are pretty nonexistent rn so i'd appreciate asks. i will be accepting requests for genshin, hsr, & jjk as of now.

[yup-thats-me]

—interruptions • E. Ranpo

paring; bf!Ranpo x ADA!member!reader summary; empty office, candy, and your lover. but you just have to get embarrassed in front of your father-in-law and boss! warnings; none.

“Ranpo?”

There was no response from the legendary detective; perhaps he was more mesmerized by the glass marble in his hand from the soda can to spare any attention to his girlfriend.

“Babe!” Y/n tried again to no vain. She wanted to talk (read that as annoy) to someone but alas, everyone in the ADA was out for separate missions. Everyone except Dazai. Maybe he was trying out another weird way to commit suicide, but she couldn’t care less.

An idea came to her mind. Hurriedly, she rummaged through the snack bag she kept on her for her lover. Taking out a candy, she slid over to Ranpo on her chair, shaking the man gently. “Ranpo,” She whined.

At last, the man turned around, a bit annoyed. “What?”

“Want some?” She smirked as she waved the chocolate stick in front of his eyes. He nodded without speaking. But she had a trick up her sleeve.

She put the candy in between her teeth, “take it yourself,” she said with her mouth full.

Ranpo smiled, his eyes shining with a mischievous glint. “You asked for it,” and without a warning, he almost aggressively pressed his lips against hers, catching her off guard.

She groaned, relishing in the way his tongue slipped past her lips, rolling the candy on their tongues. Breathless, Ranpo grabbed Y/n by the waist making her sit on his lap instead. Smirking, his hands roamed all over her body, caressing all the curves he knew all too well.

“Ranpo…” she almost moaned, her head floating in ecstasy. Just as things were about to escalate, there was a crisp, loud and clear “ahem!”from near the door.

Unwillingly, the two parted but Ranpo already had a smirk on his lips.

“President!” Y/n jumped up at once, fixing her disheveled hair and dress in a haste. Ranpo on the other hand, was having the best time of his life, enjoying the way his girlfriend’s face turned beet red in mere seconds.

Fukuzawa nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes closed. He walked straight up to his office with as much as giving Ranpo a reprimanding look.

When the room became empty once again, Y/n punched Ranpo’s shoulder, hard.

“Ouch!”

“You could’ve at least give me a warning?! To save me some face?”

The man just smiled. “Why? Seems to me you were enjoying it as much as I was. Moreover,” he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I did not know he was coming.”

“Bullshit!” Before she could continue, Fukuzawa emerged once again, his head peeking out the ajar door. “Ranpo. Can you come here for a second?”

“Go. You deserve getting an earful,” Y/n smiled in victory.

do not steal, translate or copy my work on any other site. all belong to yup-thats-me™️ on tumblr

[itsabouttimex2]

Ahhhhh the Tang Sanzang and Wukong fic was so good! I adore the interactions between demon reader and them- though i am curious how did the rest of the JTTW crew react to the mischievous scamp of the forest?

Taken Aboard

Pilgrim Reactions:

(I had to use this gif again because there is jackshit for Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing in the LMK gif community. Give me my boys….)

Ao Lie is… rather confused that his master saw fit to bring along a child on this dangerous journey. After all, the path ahead is fraught with many dangers and perils. Perhaps the little one would be safer in the care of a monastery? Or even a kindly pair who had long wished for a child? Sure, they may be a demon, but they’re clearly not malicious or cruel!

However, the monk is set in his actions. Your wrists are cuffed with blessed bands, set to restrict when a sutra (separate from Wukong’s) is chanted. Your ragged clothing is replaced with a proper, covering cossack and walking shoes that they had to force your feet into as you screamed and kicked.

But in spite of the confusion he bears, Lie is a little happy, too! He’s got a little sister/brother to dote on now! As one of the gentler and less troublesome members of this little gang, he’s often tasked with watching over them, especially when the group is attacked by demons.

Though it takes him a while to coax you into actually taking him up on it, the white dragon horse frequently offers you rides. At first, you’re a bit too proud to accept, trudging along even as you tire from walking. He wants so bad for you to trust him, and maybe; in time, to consider him an older brother. And if that means he has to pester and push you into accepting a little bit of doting? So be it!

And one day you will accept. Worn to exhaustion from another demon attack and thoroughly admonished by your master after another escape attempt, your body is worn and sore. The fillets around your wrists have ground your skin raw, leaving you to whimper with each step that makes the cuffs jangle against your fresh wounds.

So, finally… you clamber up and onto his back with a few pained noises, sniffling into his lavish white mane.

“Brother Lie,” you hiccup, arms snaking around his neck. “Master got angry with me again.”

“Oh dear… did you try to run away again? Little one, it’s much safer to stay with your brothers and master!” Though his voice is not without compassion, he clearly sympathizes more with the monk who’s been intent on keeping you around. Mostly because he agrees with not letting something as small and precious as your little self take even a single step out of sight.

He… he just doesn’t want to lose you, that’s all! It’s not strange to want to protect a fellow demon! Why, you’re hardly more than a baby! Look at you, you poor thing! Tiny features and scrawny form and big eyes!

How could he risk you being unhappy? How could he risk you being hurt?

“Stay with me, little one! Big brother will find you something nice to eat! And then I’ll see if master has something for your poor wrists, hmm?”

———————————————————————

Sun Wukong is somewhat baffled that you’re being brought along, honestly.

Baby? A baby? A little forest-dwelling baby?Why, you’re no taller than his hip! Here, come here and “let him check your height” and then he snatches you off the ground with a grin.

“I may be no tree, but you’re hardly even a flower,” the monkey teases casually, throwing you into the air. “You haven’t even sprouted, bud! How are you going to keep up with such little legs? Aren’t you supposed to be the ‘Keeper of Great Beasts’, Y/N?” He catches you, then another throw, higher into the air. “Kiddo, they’d crush you under their feet and not feel a thing!”

“Wukong! Be gentle with the child! And stop teasing them!”

“Aww, but they like it,” he calls back to his master, patting your head as you flail to gain purchase from the arm he’s tucked you under, strangled by the accidental grip he has around your throat.

He’s, uh… not the gentlest or most responsible.

But- he makes for a good playmate! And that doesn’t sound all too serious or important, sure… but Y/N has a lot of skills they need to build, and socialization is one of them. Under Sanzang’s watchful eye are you pulled into many games and chases, helping you build basic skills and strength as you and Wukong wrestle or race.

I like to think he carries you on his back like a baby monkey when you get too tired, clinging tight to his strong-as-iron fur, nestling against the near-invulnerable fluff from behind.

“Brother Wukong, tell me your titles,” you say sleepily, having gaining some modicum of respect for the simian through constant playing and occasional training with him.

“And then tell you how I got them?” “And then tell me how you got them.”

This exchange essentially boils down “tell me a bedtime story,” and “sure, sweetie” but the only one who realizes that is the Great Monk, Tang Sanzang- who is trying very hard not to melt from the cuteness of it all.

Y/N getting to enjoy some measure of a happy and harm-free childhood in the form of the Great Sage’s furry arms, one hand thumping your back as he recites an old tale or two.

This massively improves Sanzang’s opinion of him, too. Seeing Wukong genuinely tamper down the ego and potential bloodlust (assuming he’s anything like in the novel) to be truly gentle with someone who definitely needs someone to trust and rely on… it’s quite redeeming of his character, certainly.

Probably tampers down his yandere behavior the best… until you get injured, and then all the other pilgrims get to see the strength with which he used to wreak havoc on Heaven.

And there will be blood. And bone shards. And brain matter. And eventually, the utter and thorough destruction of what was once a demon. No one can sway him from the carnage, not even the tightening-fillet sutra.

After all, isn’t every “big brother’s” job to protect his little siblings?

——————————————————————-—-

Zhu Baije is probably the most resistant to having you along, mostly because he knows he’ll have to be “polite” and “patient” with you around, some whelp dragged to the world from the root of a fallen fruit tree.

Often tries to trick you out of food, but gets petulant when you try the same thing with him. And then he has the gall to ask you to help him identify poisonous plants and berries for him to snack on. Under threat of the sutra being recited, you grudgingly give him proper advice.

Now, it’s not that he can’t be sweet and doting-

It’s just that he doesn’t want to be.

Also, he brings out the idiot in you very quickly, causing Sanzang to try and supervise any and all interactions between the two of you. Because when he doesn’t, you get this:

“Y/N, there’s a stronghold of demons here! What are we supposed to do?!”

Y/N, who has lived in a sprawling forest with big scary animals from the moment they were born: “…maybe we should try to make ourselves look bigger.”

“Brother Swine, come and help me overturn this log!” “S-Swine?! You little brat, you better call me by my name!” “Or else what… Brother Swine?” “Or else I’ll-“

“Enough,” calls the Great Monk, stern and tired. “Enough squabbling, my disciples! If we are to see this journey to the end, we must all cooperate! Please, Zhu Bajie, lend your hand to Y/N. They asked not out of laziness, but as acknowledgment of your strength!”

“…huh. Alright, then! I can help!”

But, slowly, he does come to care about you. Letting you rest your head on his gut like a squishy pillow, carrying you when you get hurt, making sugar-sweetened herbal tea to share with you, letting you hide behind him when Sanzang is looking for you…

And then he eats the first human being who tries to hurt you. All across you is a messy shower of splattered gore and sundered organs, painting your face and body.

It’s proof, crimson and wet, that he really does love you, in spite of everything.

——————————————————————-—-

Sha Wujing, to start off- adores Y/N. They’re tiny! They’re cute! They transform into adorable animals! They can talk to beasts and trees!

And… they treat him like a person. An actual, thinking, feeling, person.

He definitely tries to dote on the kid, and I think he’s a strong contender for being their favorite person. How monstrous he is! How powerful! Like the great beasts that lived in their forest, tall and proud and imposing!

Wujing reminds them of home, essentially. Y/N is constantly crawling all over him as they would the beasts of their grand forest. He allows the strange behavior, understanding that the kid’s never had real interaction with other people outside of toying with travelers or waylaying attackers.

Always kneeling my down to their level and trying to make the child feel safe and heard. He often shares tales of his river and interesting passerby, and Y/N responds in turn, speaking of their forest. The two of them laugh and bond over their shared experiences.

And off the side, Sanzang is listening in with horror all across his face as they compare stories of killing and eating invaders who dared come to their homes.

Lots of piggyback and shoulders rides, and just barely being able to peel over his red mop of hair. He’s also one of the only people who you let mess with your hair, allowing him to comb and braid it.

“Brother Sand,” you call aloud, a nickname just a touch more affectionate than those you’ve given his companions. “Come look at the creatures I have found in the riverbank!”

And man drops everything to spend a little more time with you, happy to let you push little creatures into his massive palms as he teaches you their names.

And maybe, if things go wrong… the bloody butchering and head-piking/skull-stringing of anyone who even looks at you wrong. Maybe.

In general, just an absolute delight.

——————————————————————-—-

Tang Sanzang believes entirely in the possibility of anyone becoming a better person through hard work and effort.

So little Y/N, the Guardian who Spreads Growth, Keeper of Great Beasts:

Put flatteringly: Is adopted by five men and treated as a cherished; if troublesome, little sibling who is doted on and allowed to become a better person. Lots of good food and cozy clothing, and they never go hungry or cold again. They’re taught to read and write, and never are without unconditional love.

Put unflatteringly: is forcibly displaced from their home and made to adopt new customs and styles, severed from that which they know and love to become someone else’s idea of “right”. Also they get torture bands slapped on their wrists.

Sanzang tries to be fatherly and kind with Y/N, attempting to delve into the “why” of any mischievous or cruel actions you commit instead of simply writing them off as “bad”.

“So… you thought that man was going to hurt you?”

“He smiled at me! With all his teeth! It was a threat, Master! And then he walked towards me with a hand out!”

“…I see. You were scared of being hurt, then?”

“I- No! No! I didn’t say I was scared! I wasn’t!”

Lots of “therapy sessions” to help work through your feral mindset and improve your problem solving skills.

In general, solving problems while trying not to be frustrated. For example:

Given that Y/N has never once cut their hair, it’s even longer than they are tall, and proves to be quite a bit of trouble. And they respond violently to his attempts to cut it, screaming and swiping like a feral cat. It takes a few weeks of nudging and asking, but Sanzang gets them to submit to a “trim” that cuts more than five feet of hair away and still leaves the little demon’s locks dangling down to their ankles. He’ll try for more later, but allows you to be for a while.

Then, cutting your nails. And washing the grime from your body. And getting you into shoes that you’ll keep on. He settles for boots with laces, given that you can’t tie or untie them. Y/N, you’re sitting on the ground in front of him seething because you aren’t flexible enough to bend forward and chew through the twine lacing. Also, in order for him to get them on in the first place someone has to restrain you, so one of your “brothers” is getting the silent treatment. (It’s Wukong.)

He won’t ever be “Brother Sanzang” or “Brother Monk”, but he will get something better:

“…father,” you’ll finally say after a full year of traveling with him, lying in a puddle of tears with your head in his lap. “Please… please forgive me, father.”

“Oh, Y/N… of course, of course. Come now, sit with me. Let me tend your wounds and wipe your tears. All will be well.. my child.”

And maybe, just maybe… he’ll think about taking one of your circlets off.

[hxnbi]

‧₊˚ rain walks, or not — zenin naoya

synopsis: just a lovely walk in the pouring rain with a guy who could care less about you, or so you think

tags: fluff, profanity, vulgar language

word count: 1k

"Tch... I don't get why I had to come along with you in the first place."

"C'mon! It'll be fun."

"Fun, my ass. Can't you be fucking reasonable for one second and—"

"Being reasonable can wait!"

What had originally been a mere grocery trip with Naoya turned into a rainstorm when, all of a sudden, it started to pour. Hard.

To hell with Naoya's handsome looks and freshly shampooed hair that afternoon. You immediately went and dragged him by the arm and out of the comfort of shelter.

"It was either we waited for the rain to stop or walked in the rain. And knowing you and your nonexistent sense of patience, you wouldn't pick the latter. So~! Therefore, I went ahead and made the executive decision for you," you said with a proud smirk.

Naoya's voice dripped with sarcasm as he sneered, "Well, congratulations on mastering the art of being an idiot, like always. No shocker there. Maybe next time, use that genius brain of yours to make decisions that actually make sense."

His sarcastic remark hung in the air, but you were having none of it—or instead, you were already used to his antics. It was quite refreshing, actually. Even as the rain poured, he still wasn't letting up.

With a mischievous grin, you let go of Naoya's hand and cupped your two together, collecting some rainwater, and, with a single motion, you threw it directly at the Zenin, colliding with Naoya in a triumphant splash of victory.

His clothing stuck to him like it was soaked in sarcasm, and his once-confident countenance gave way to one of astonishment. His mouth hung open, and his face slowly shifted into one of plain disgust.

"You were saying?" you smirked. "Hmph. Now you're soaking wet, just like I am."

"You..."

But before he could say another word, you once again grabbed him by the hand and led him, walking together on the sidewalks as the rain continued to pour down on them.

"Let's go. My house isn't far, and we can dry off and freshen up a bit. After all, we just brought some groceries from our haul."

Naoya gruffed in response, but he didn't resist, even as you pulled him along by the hand like he was a dog. How pathetic.

But it was something that Naoya, for some reason, felt oddly at ease with...?

As cold as it was while walking in the rain without an umbrella or even a hood to block the water from your face, your hand was still oddly warm. It was much smaller and softer than his, a stark contrast.

He was unable to take his eyes off of you. It was only because you were in front of him, dragging his hand like a guide. Yes, that's right. Where else was he supposed to look? Down?? A Zenin like him would never.

But amid all that, there was something about you that entranced him. Was it the rain? Never. That same pathetic rain was ruining his perfectly styled hair he had just for today with you—though that would be something he would never tell to you straight.

Or was it the way how you always managed to defy expectations just to do whatever the hell you wanted? Perhaps.

...Or maybe, it was—

"Here we are!"

Great. That wretched shriek that, god forbid, came from a human being, was back. 

Just as you and Naoya arrived in the empty home, you threw off your shoes and left the wet bag of groceries on the carpet to dry.

"Make yourself comfortable," you mused, unclothing your jacket.

"Ugh."

Naoya peered closer, only to see the clothes that you were wearing, or rather, what was under them. The thin t-shirt you were wearing was nearly close to being see-through.

Naoya was close to making a fire of his own—using his own rage, that is.

Did your dumbass seriously not even fucking notice?! What if it was someone else who saw you like this!? Would you have been so stupid then with them?

"Here."

The next thing he felt was a towel on top of his head, and your face was right in front of him. You had a small towel of your own wrapped around your neck to keep your wet hair from dripping onto the floor.

Your hands came abnormally close, and with your eyes focusing on him and him only, you used your hands, grasping the towel sitting on the top of his head to dry his hair.

He flinched. "What the—"

"Hold still," you commanded. "Your hair is soaking wet."

"Well, you were the one who wanted us to walk in that dang rain to begin with," he grumbled.

You blinked once and then twice before yanking his hand off, forcing his arms to his side so that you could finally get to what you wanted to do. "Then, just let me do this."

"...."

For whatever reason, Naoya was silent. It was sort of peaceful, really. Feeling your hands comb through his hand with an expression of concentration. 

The ruffian creature eventually relaxed, even to the point where he closed his eyes and let out a content sigh as your fingers played with his hair. If it weren't for the towel covering most of his face, he would've ratted himself out—revealing a rare vulnerability.

To even begin to think that the Naoya Zenin would suck up his pride and let someone else even touch him, but he was also secretly pleased—even if his arrogance wouldn't allow him to admit it. He tilted his head back a little closer to your chest and lowered his posture, permitting you to have an easier time tending to his damp hair.

Naoya smirked, rather pleased with himself.

Look at him. He was being far too kind to accommodate you.

No one else would've had the oh-so-magnificent pleasure of drying his hair. So you had better savour it.

You both lay there silently for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company as you continued to dry his dark hair with a towel as Naoya held his body still. That is, until you suddenly stopped. And you could've sworn that you heard a noise coming from Naoya's mouth, but you didn't push it.

"There," you said happily. "All dry! Hehe, now how about that?"

"...Just this one time."

Your hand stilled for a moment before continuing your gentle strokes. "Huh?"

"You're the only one I let do this. So savour it," Naoya said, his voice softening for a mere second, only for him to split back into an expression of aloofness.

You smiled before moving your hands again. "Then I'm flattered."

You weren't about to tell him about how you could see everything from the very beginning. He would never let you hear the end of it otherwise.

Guess it'll just be your little secret.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[minafeu]

I'm not the greatest at writing when tired and it's 11 pm before I got to school the next day but I thought I'd give a snippet of what I have so far. The chapter will be called "Girl, So Confusing" because the tension I've written is utterly divine and fits the title because the way Red be acting is so confusing to Chloe.( @uhhhh-em-draws-stuff this is for you pookie 😘)

Theatre class. A place where many don't have academic rivals but Chloe was unlucky enough to have her academic rival in her Theater class. Today they were doing line readings just to make sure the teacher picked the right people for the roles. Chloe reading for Juliet and Red reading for Romeo. An irony Chloe could care less for but still funny none the less. Red takes her hand as per the directions of staging "If I profane with my unworthiest hand. This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." Red had an annoying sly smile on her face, knowing she was slightly getting under Chloe's skin.

She take a deep breath and begins her line. "Good Pilgrim, you do wrong your hands to much, which mannerly devotion shows this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch. and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." They make eye contact whilst Chloe recites her lines lines. It's obvious to Red that Chloe has honed the craft of theatre for many years which is almost impressive if it weren't for the fact she acted slightly cocky about it. It elicits a small chuckle out of Red, it being humorous that Chloe thinks so highly of herself.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers' too?" Reds voice is soft but firm. Chloe laughs slightly and states "Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer." She give an unserious smile, emulating the character of Juliet. It's almost impressive how well Red is doing as Chloe has never seen her so theatre. Red simply brushes off the slight look of disbelief on Chloe's face and responds. "O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do: They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." Her smile growing more cocky, her head tiltes slightly to the side as she watches to see how Chloe react. "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake" Chloe speak softly, shaking her head lightly during my lines. She lightly looks Red up and down as she recites Red next lines.

Red steps a bit closer to Chloe. "Then move not while my prayer's effect I take." She takes Chloe's chin in her hand, just a few inches from her face. "Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged." Chloe rolls her eyes lightly, breaking character for but a moment. She clears her throat, takes a step back from Red and delivers the line promptly. "Then have my lips the sin that they have took." Chloe's gaze is questioning with a hint of innocence, replicating how a child of Juliet's age would have said it. "Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again." Red looks into Chloe's eyes, a mischievous smile on her lips. "And scene!" Their teacher calls out.

After a few moments, Chloe goes to her seat and grabs her things, intent on getting to her next class to have peace for just a few moments. The only bad thing about next hour being AP history was perhaps the fact that the seating chart just had to have Red sitting right next to her. It was the only class they sat next to each other and every moment felt like hell on earth. As the teacher begins to give Red compliments on her compelling acting Chloe checks her phone and texts back her mom. After about a minute, the teacher begins to compliment Chloe who dutifully takes them. Red simply rolls her eyes. Ah yes, little miss perfect taking compliments like it's nothing. It's almost as if she isn't Satan incarnate in academia clothing and a pretty smile.

(now published as a full chapter on ao3)

[yoon-kooks]

playtime & punishment | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au, this specific chapter is pwp

⛓️summary: You decide to push Jeon Jungkook's buttons until he snaps and puts you in your place like the little slut you are.

⛓️word count: 2k+

⛓️warnings: catdilf!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, daddy kink, good girl kink, nudes, hickeys, oc is a lil horny brat, jk puts her in her place, degradation, "slut" is used a lot, boobie squeezes, begging, she wants his cock so bad🥵, masturbation, oral nerd fantasy, fingering, edging, orgasm denial

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

⛓️a/n: this is the dirtiest p&p drabble yet🥴 can be enjoyed without reading the previous drabbles!

It’s another one of those long days where Jungkook has class all day, and you’re sitting around his place doing homework while keeping an eye on his mischievous kitten. The only reason you’re not procrastinating on your assignments is that your hot nerd friend refuses to let you near his tattooed cock until all of your school stuff is done. Thankfully, today’s homework is simple enough to finish before he gets home.

After submitting your last assignment of the day, you stretch your arms out and check the time. Jungkook should be on his way home in about half an hour, so that gives you plenty of time to soak in a nice bubble bath. You may or may not have been dying to send him some naughty nudes to look at while he’s in class. And a bubble bath is the perfect backdrop for your steamy photoshoot.

Once the tub is all set up with a sea of cotton candy bubbles, you slide your body in and make sure every part of it is nice and wet. If Jungkook wasn’t going to be back soon, you’d be tempted to slip your fingers down between your legs. But you might as well wait a little bit longer for him since it’s been a minute (aka less than 48 hours) since the last time the two of you had sex.

Just as you’re about to snap a pic of your naked body, a notification pops up from Jungkook.

dilf🥴 [4:32PM] “Can you feed Lucy her dinner?”

dilf🥴 [4:32PM] “I have an interview after class”

He must be talking about an interview for that fancy tech job he mentioned a few days ago. If he gets an offer, he’ll be all set and working full-time after graduating this summer. You, on the other hand…

You’d rather not think about it. You were given the opportunity to turn your last internship into a whole-ass career as a software engineer, but it just didn’t work out. The internship was great, the job would’ve been great, but your would-be boss apparently only wanted you on his team because you’re pretty and not because you’d earned it. That was the big rumor floating around throughout the last week of your internship. And that’s why you declined the offer for what would’ve been your dream job.

You just hope Jungkook doesn’t have to deal with any bullshit like that. Probably not.

Y/N🍒 [4:33PM] “ah yes lucys eating good tonight😌🤝🐱”

Y/N🍒 [4:34PM] “good luck with your interview✨”

Then you send him a pic of you with your wet boobs squeezed together between your arms “for extra good luck.” Not that the nerd needs luck to land any job he wants.

dilf🥴 [4:39PM] “👁️👄👁️”

dilf🥴 [4:39PM] “Y/N”

Y/N🍒 [4:39PM] “yes daddy?🥺”

You snicker at your phone screen. Is it bad that you hope he passes his interview with the biggest boner bulging out of his pants? If he’s mad about it, he can punish you when he gets home. Perhaps he’ll slap his hard cock against your cheeks or shove it down your throat. You won’t complain. You like it rough like that.

dilf🥴 [4:40PM] “It’ll be hard to focus on the interview after seeing that”

dilf🥴 [4:41PM] “Wait until I get home”

Y/N🍒 [4:41PM] “👼”

He’s so silly if he thinks you’re actually waiting until he gets home. You were willing to wait until his class ended, but all bets were off when he said he’d be home even later thanks to the interview. 

As soon as you climb out of the tub, you feed the kitten her gourmet meal, hop on the boy’s bed, and pull your sweatpants down to your thighs. 

Your fingers waste no time in making their way into your panties. You wish Jungkook were around to pleasure you himself or at least watch, but that doesn’t mean the boy isn’t contributing here.

The mere thought of him gets you so wet. Ever since you slept with him the first time, you can’t stop thinking about him. Like, he’s not only someone you click so well with but also the one your body craves 24/7. 

Oh what you’d do to have his cock inside you, his tongue on you, and his nerdy ass here with you right now.

You kick your sweatpants and panties off, slowly massaging your clit and imagining it’s Jungkook eating you out. Like his tongue is lapping you up and making you all hot and bothered in an endless cycle. You’d never really craved to be on the receiving end of oral sex until Jungkook had gone down on you the first time. He’d hooked you in for life with a single flick of his tongue.

Your fingers obviously can’t compare to the real deal, but you’re still thoroughly enjoying your little oral nerd fantasy. Plus, you love the idea of sneaking around and doing something naughty on his bed while he’s gone. Especially when he told you to wait for him. 

You can’t always be a good little girl for daddy.

As you continue to pleasure yourself, the post-bath warmth and lazy pace lull you to a sleepy state even before you’ve had a chance to orgasm. The least you can do is wait for your boy friend to join in before hitting your high.

It’ll be worth the wait.

You feel your eyelids getting heavier as your fingers slow down. Before you know it, you’re out.

“Someone’s been naughty.” A low voice wakes you from your nap as the boy’s weight sinks into the mattress beside you.

Your eyes flutter open to Jungkook unbuttoning his dress shirt. What a great view to wake up to. His gaze, however, is locked onto your fingers resting on your clit with your legs spread open on his bed like such a little slut.

Knowing he’s watching, your fingers start to move again. You’re still quite wet despite the long nap break. You must’ve dreamt of him tying you up and torturing your body for hours with his fat cock. That’ll keep you wet for weeks.

“My bad, I got impatient and couldn’t wait,” you say, swirling your fingers against your slippery center. You’re not sorry at all. “Bad girls need to be punished, don’t they?” You suck the coating off your fingers one at a time.

“Wouldn’t that just be giving you exactly what you want?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Don’t sluts love to be degraded and put in their place?”

You nod, wanting nothing more than to be manhandled and used as his little plaything.

“Sure you can handle the punishment?” He tosses his shirt and glasses aside but leaves his trousers on. Ah fuck. He knows how badly you want your holes to be filled with his cock, so he’s not giving it to you. That’s your punishment. Despite how torturous it sounds, your submissive little head nods again.

With a sinister chuckle, he gets behind you, tears your tank top off your body, and leans your bare back against his hard chest. You can feel his erection digging into your ass through his pants. Great.

His hands slide around and grab your breasts, squeezing them together and making your nipples all perky. You let out a squeak like a stuffed dog toy with each squeeze.

“You’re so weak to my touch, you know that?” he whispers into your ear. “It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Mm,” you squeak again. He’s right. You really do love it when he degrades you like that.

With one hand still on your boobs, he pulls your head back and angles it to give him full access to your neck. His lips find the most sensitive spots on your neck and suck each one until you’re covered in his marks. You’re definitely going to need to wear a turtleneck for the next few days.

You try to turn around to get his mouth on yours, even for just a second to taste him, but he pulls back and shakes his head. “Bad girls have to earn that back.”

Jeon Jungkook is evil. The worst, even. You’ve never been denied a kiss in your entire life. And he knows you’ll do anything for a taste, anything for touch, anything for more pleasure. You love it.

“Jungkook, please, anything,” you beg softly, pulling his hand toward your wet center. But instead of getting straight to it, he grabs both of your wrists and holds them together behind your back. Apparently, he doesn’t approve of the way you tried directing him to your core. He’s the one deciding your punishment here. Not you.

“Brats like you need to learn to be patient,” he hums against your neck. “Will you wait for me this time, baby?”

You’ll say it again. Jeon Jungkook is the worst. You’d rebelled against him and got caught touching yourself earlier out of impatience, and now he’s gonna make you wait even longer for any sort of pleasure or release? Just to teach you a lesson and punish you for your actions? He’s the definition of torture. No other guy has ever challenged you the way he does. But that’s why you’ve stuck around with him these past few months.

“Yes, daddy,” you whimper. Your horny little body will wait as long as he makes you.

“Good girl.” Still holding your wrists captive with one hand, he slips two fingers between your legs. He’s moving slower than your fingers earlier. “And you’re not going to cum until I say so. Understood?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He rewards your submissive behavior with a quick flick over your clit. The sudden jolt of pleasure snaps you into a pathetically horny state. Your body starts squirming on its own for more stimulation. Your brain shuts off. Your mind melts into pleasure.

For a while, all you can hear is your moans and the slick sounds of his fingers rubbing against you, pumping in and out of you. So wet and helpless. So close, and yet, your body knows it can’t orgasm until daddy says so.

“Are you close?” he asks. You hate how calm he is compared to the horny mess he’s made of you.

You nod. “Cum… please…”

“Not yet, baby,” he warns, digging his fingers deep inside you and hitting you where it feels best. Meanwhile, his thumb toys with your swollen clit, rubbing circles around it and bringing you so close to your breaking point. “Keep edging for me.”

You need to cum. You need it so badly. You bite your lip and squirm around to fight off the wave of pleasure waiting to wash over you. The need for a release is at an all-time high, but Jeon Jungkook’s hold on you is stronger. Because you know it’d feel so much more satisfying to be rewarded by him with an orgasm after waiting so long like a good little slut. You just have to be patient.

He lets go of your limp wrists, knowing you’re too lost in the pleasure to move your own fingers. You like his better anyway. His now free hand takes over your pussy, while he holds up his other fingers to your face. They’re perfectly glazed by your lust.

On instinct, your mouth opens with your tongue out. You’ve already accepted you aren’t getting his cock today, so his long veiny fingers will have to be the consolation prize. He kindly allows you to wrap your lips around his fingers and cleanse them of your milky glaze.

While you suck on him, he rubs you faster, adding more pressure to your clit all swelled up with pleasure. You let out a violent stream of muffled moans as if you’d actually orgasmed. If he doesn’t let you cum soon, you’ll go mad.

“Do you want to cum now?” He pulls his fingers out for you to answer.

“Yes… daddy…” you whimper between gasps. Your body aches in anticipation. Finally.

“Have you learned your lesson today?” He uses that stern dilf tone you love so much. “Will you be a good girl from now on?”

“Yes, daddy.” Nope. As soon as you’re done here, you’re not against being a brat and doing it all over again. Because when you really think about it, this “punishment” comes with what you know will be the most intense and rewarding orgasm of your life. That’s why you’ve endured the torture for so long. And that’s why you’re eager for plenty more in the future.

“Good,” he slips his fingers out of your pussy and gets up from behind you. Looks like you’re getting cock after all. It really does pay off to be a good girl.

But then he hands you your tank top that he’d flung across the room. And your panties and sweatpants. Still in a bit of a horny haze, you sit there and blink at the boy. He needs to hurry his ass back over to you and tend to your poor clit. It’s so swollen and aching for that release.

Then he looks back at you with a big fat smirk. “Oh, did you think I’d let you cum today, baby?”

Seeing how your little brain still isn’t comprehending his words, he helps you back into your clothes and lays your body down next to him on the bed. “Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if I let you cum, would it?” he chuckles as reality sinks in for you. You immediately pout.

“You were supposed to shove your cock down my throat and let me cum,” you mumble, wiggling yourself closer to him. “That’s what a punishment is, Jungcock.”

“Hey,” he frowns at your petty nickname for him when you’re sexually frustrated. “You’re the one who asked to be punished. I was down for the usual.”

He’s right. You really did bring this upon yourself. And honestly, despite the lack of an orgasm and cock, you can’t deny that Jungkook still managed to make it amazing. Plus, the longer you go without hitting your high, the better it’ll feel once you finally do. So you’ll just have to accept your fate and wait another day.

“By the way, how’d the interview go?” You try not to stare at the bulge in his nice trousers. After the hell he just put you through, you really do hope your bathtub pic forced a huge boner on him during his interview.

“They gave me an offer, so I took it,” he says nonchalantly. You know he’s downplaying it after you’d told him about how awful your first job offer had gone. He doesn’t need to, though. It’s something he earned and worked hard for. The two of you should celebrate.

“Oh yeah?” You smile and give him a peck on his lips as you roll on top of him. “We should have new job sex.”

He lets you finally get a taste of his tongue before rolling you back beside him. “Nice try.”

You frown but steal another kiss from him. “You’re really mean, you know that?”

“You’ll thank me later,” he promises. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”

[whorediaries-09]

SO SORRY TO ADD ANOTHER A OTHER REQUEST :( BUT CAN WE MAYBE HAVE LIKE A SOFT NICE DATE THAT SLOWLY TURNS INTO SMUT WITH RON? PLEASEE? Also hui :3

hi lovey, thank you for sending in the request, hope you like it!

i think he knows; pairing- ronald weasley x reader warning(s)- mentions of war, 18+ content, fluff. a/n- contrary to popular belief, i am in fact quite alive and breathing.

little train.

' he got that boyish look that i like in man, i'm an architect i'm drawing up the plans. '

going on a date after the war was...intimidating, to put it in within a play of a single word. and surely ron wasn't expecting himself to be in a sticky situation with the pretty healer who had tended to his wounds after the traumatizing events. he ran his thumb over the now healed scar.

it'd tell a tale.

he remembered you. he could recall the dullness of worry in your eyes. the shine of hope in your eyes. even if your hair was matted with blood and rubble, you were the diesel to the fire that so timidly burned. the bruise under your eye was fresh, deep blue blackening, a shard of glass hanging from your chin.

he wish he could paint the blue golden.

with the last tug at the leather strap of the watch around his wrist, he decided he'd get the flowers. it would add a nice touch, a 'gentlemanly effect', he liked to think. even if it did seem to be a bit cliche. perhaps he thought of the smile on your face when you got the flowers (he was hopeful that you liked flowers). or perhaps he was just afraid of the aspect of a hormone rushing pregnant ginny hitting him on the head because of his 'less gentlemanly thoughts'

he remembered harry patting his shoulders, throwing out advices. ron rolled his eyes. he recalled when harry was swooning over cho chang, describing his very 'wet' kiss. he kicked harry in the shin, pulling a laugh out of his friend, grumbling harry wasn't much of a 'playboy' either.

so, he found himself standing in the flower shop, having absolutely no ideas about flowers. he watched the half a dozen barely bloomed pink roses being tied together. god forbid you weren't allergic to them. or didn't laugh at him for being too cliched.

he wished hermione had actually written that book about girls.

*-

it was fruitful, his attempt to choose the flowers. he'd recognized it from the shine in your eyes and the beautiful curve adorned on your lips. he'd found you beautiful when you were on the brink of death, disguised as a savior, so heaven sent. but now, when you held his hand, touching the scar you'd mended, talking away about stuff he couldn't really catch up on, your hair smelling like something so desirable, he found you breathtaking. he was mesmerized by you.

you felt like a forbidden treasure, the diesel to the fire in his heart that raged it's flames ever so timidly.

you'd liked the flowers. ron silently thanked the gods that you weren't allergic. you liked a lot of things, he learnt. cats, photography, literature, music, and a good fuck... was amongst the few things you liked. he was sure you'd said that intentionally just to pull out a reaction. the evil trick was recognized by the pretense innocent mischievousness in your eyes.

he was glad he coughed the drink in his mouth instead of spitting it right onto your face. you'd smiled, throwing him a dirty wink, twirling the straw of lemonade with your tongue. the dim carnival light angled your features, bringing out the best of your bone structure.

'well, to put it correctly, i enjoy a good fuck...' you said, after ron had recovered from his coughing haze. he wiped the edge of his lips, a nd putting on his best front, he responded,

'well then i can promise you an enjoyable time with me sweetheart,'

it was said with an awkward stance, a constant shift of octaves. but it still made you flush as the flame of the fire of his burning heart tickled your skin. you'd be his fuel, his diesel. you'd be his muse, the tale he recite.

*-

by the time it was time to leave you by the doorstep, the sky dizzied itself across the luminated street scattered with gravel. his fingers were melted within the crevices of yours, fit snug like a puzzle. he liked the way you laughed, the way your voice did throbbed so serenely against his eardrums while narrating tales, the way your eyes lit up against the dim lighting. 'liked' would be an understatement.

for the first time in his life, he was thankful for his freckles. he hoped they hid the flush of his pale skin.

'you're...kind,' you stated, shimmying on your tiptoes.

'hmm... why do you say so, sweetheart?' he asked.

'i know you live on the other side of town, and you came by to drop me...' a stupid line pops up in his head, but he doesn't say anything. he almost bites his lip to not let his boyish thought control his action. so, he smiles.

and lingers. holding your hand. the distance between him and you isn't much, the little roof over the entrance of your house providing him the needed protection from rain.

he can feel your breathe upon his already warm skin. it excruciates his patience. it plays with his senses, the sweet fragrance of petrichor infused with a scent, that reeks of you. it's blissful.

still, like the boyish man he is, he does nothing. he lingers, letting a silence wrap the little bubble of tranquility. it's comforting, in a strange way. he can't figure out what to do, when the sound of the rain, the running vehicles and the croaking frogs blur, when he feels your fingers tighten around his.

your lips lingers a little too close to his, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. or rather the side of his mouth. his mind reels when you place forward your request, your thought.

'the rain won't stop. not now anyways.' you whisper, lips brushing his earlobe. he doesn't recognize what takes over him within the click of your doorknob and the placement of your hand on his waist, as you pull him towards you.

but he enjoys it, the sudden rush of hormones. it's quick, it's something he's not felt for a long time. so long, it almost feels foreign. perhaps, it is. it's a warmth he's never felt, no never in his teenage years has he ever felt the need of touch. he's never realized the need, he thinks.

it's maddening, your touch all over his body when he finally crashes his mouth with yours, pushing you against the unlocked door of your house. he stumbles as you grab your neck, breathlessly cradling your cheek within the crevice of his palm. the scar you'd fixed touches the one on your chin.

it's a tale to be kept silent, to be a concealed message. like a string of fate, perhaps.

his teeth nips softly at the bare skin of your neck, your back pressed against the cold wall of your house. he feels the heat radiate off your body, moans leaving your mouth. your name rolls of his tongue as your fingers pull his hair, pulling his face away from your neck.

'is this okay?' he asks, concerned. he thinks he's fucked it up, by jumping on your bones. to his relief, you smile,

'it's...more than okay. can we go to the bedroom please?'

'sure, sweetheart. whatever makes you comfortable.'

*-

you've got your hair tangled up in his ginger locks. the moans spilling from your throat echoes through against the walls of your bedroom. his lips aren't on yours, as much as he'd love to taste your moans and sounds, your noise is honey-dripping gold in his eardrums.

his cock plunges deep within you, till your room loses the smell of your sandalwood candles. it reeks of sex and skin, the physical intimate bond of unheard individuals. it reeks of something magical, a golden desire painting over deep blue bruises.

it's fueling, to feel his touch on your skin. it diesels the fire that ignites within you when he snaps his hips against yours. the sound of his gasps, your moans, and skin slapping fills the room. you roll your eyes, as he thrusts himself angled perfectly so as to hit your sweet spot. you see white, moaning his name,

'fuck please, ron right there,'

his silver chain dangles over your lips. you wrap your lips around it, bringing his face closer. he gasps, his finger slipping between your connected bodies. his calloused thumb rubs over your stimulated clit, making you arch your hips, searching for more friction.

'you're making me feel so good, sweetheart,' he moans as you clench your walls around his girth. the coil building in your stomach drives your to the edge of your sanity.

'yeah?' you whisper back, half heaving, half controlling your urge to scream. it's heavenly, the combination of his perfect thrusts, the rubbing of his finger against your clit. you wrap your legs around his body, pulling him closer, to feel him, to touch him.

his girth plunges in you, and you feel your coil unraveling through you, your thighs shaking as the orgasm bubbles over the brink. it's pure heavenly insanity, a break through from the scorching insatiable desire for him.

you feel him release within you, wrecking your guts. your orgasm paints his abs, as his lump body falls over yours, his weight dead. he hides his face into your neck, smiling. the tranquil silence settles, carving a little bubble of comfort. neither of you hear the rain pattering against the gravel.

perhaps, truly it was just an excuse. excuse for a fate, for a destiny. to rebound broken strings of souls.

'you don't break promises do you?' you ask, laughing.

****************************************************

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