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silkjade · 11 months ago

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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 : )

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin thirsts #neuvillette x you #genshin x you #tw monsterfucking

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amaranthinespirit · 3 months ago

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simon riley who lets you wear whatever you want because everyone else only gets to look. he gets to be the one to take you home and fuck you until nothing but his name falls from your pretty, pink, puffy lips.

another night out at the bar with simon and his boys, wearing a dress so short, your ass is peeking out the hem, and a cut so low, your cleavage is on full display—and only more pronounced with the low lighting that casted shadows across your skin. the way your nipples hardened—prominent through the material of what you wore—and goosebumps arose your skin at the cold breeze of the ac.

simon saw the way eyes lingered on you every time you detached yourself from his side—and admittedly, he was one of those pairs of eyes. every time his arm wasn't slung around your waist, or around your shoulders pulling you flush against his body, it was like it was an invitation for those around to take a look at you—but it wasn't.

it had made him jealous—possessive even—but he knew it was not your fault, nor your intention. in fact, he encouraged you to wear whatever you wanted—he can fight. and besides, it wasn't like they were the ones that were going to take you home and fuck you on their heavy, lengthy cocks till nothing, but their names spewed from your lips—only him.

regardless, the feeling brewed in the pit of his stomach; a fuzzy tingling feeling that made his dick twitch in his tight jeans. he felt the blood rushing south, his flaccid cock chubbing up at the sight—and thought—of you in that tight, skimpy material that was a sad excuse of a dress. the outline of his bulge in the blue denim becoming more pronounced than before.

he groaned lowly before taking the last remaining sips of his bourbon, muttering an excuse to the guys about it getting a bit late; that he needed to take the missus 'ome.

before they could make a comment, he rose from his seat and crossed the room to you—who stood at the bar waiting to order the next 'round of drinks.

he felt the way your body jumped at the contact of his large hand splayed across the small of your back, the way his thumb dragged back and forth across the material slowly as he looked down at you. the tense muscles across your body relaxed under his hand at the realization it was him before he tugged you out the bar.

a smug smirk painted his face at the sight of the eyes that followed your earlier movements realizing that you were with him, that you were his—but he would make sure they remembered for the time you guys came back.

he was eager to get home, to tear that tiny little dress from your body. he wasn't sure he could make it past the front room with how hard his dick was in his jeans, twitching with every contact of your skin. his hand grasping your plush thigh tightly in his calloused hand, his skin rough against yours.

goosebumps rising underneath his palm as his hand slid further and further up your leg. his fingers grazed the hem of your panties, feeling the lace material under the pads of his fingertips. trailing along the junction of your thigh and cunt, teasing the skin as he felt your muscle tense beneath his touch.

a huffed chuckle escaped his lips at your eagerness, your desperation while his middle finger grazed down the center of your silken cunt, feeling the folds of your labia through the fabric of your panties that soaked with your wetness. a quiet mewl escaped your lips and you could see the smug expression etch itself onto his face by the way his eyes glanced your way before peeling back to look at the road once more.

he continued to toy with your pussy through the fabric, parting your folds back and forth with a pinch to your sensitive clit every so often that sent a hand flying down around his wrist.

but his movements didn't falter. his teasing finger worked your pussy all the way home, groaning lowly when he finally pulled his hand from between your legs, away from your completely soaked panties, to look at the glistening and pruned finger you caused.

he salivated at the sight, slipping his fingers under his mask to get a taste of you—a sample of what's to come for him.

it wasn't long before he had you pushed back into the bed, dressed hiked up your hips and pushed down from your tits, leaving the material bunched around your midsection.

he growled at the sight of your dampened panties, hooking his hands around your thighs to press your clothed cunt against his painfully hard erection, feeling his heavy dick twitching through the material.

he was desperate, you were desperate, but he couldn't resist the urge to tease you, to punish you for what you had made him feel for the entirety of the night—even if he had been the one who told you to wear whatever you'd felt like.

he rolled his thumb up your panties, pressing down against your clit as he watched you squirm beneath him. he chuckled lowly at your heightened sensitivity as his other hand worked to unzip his jeans. he didn't bother to get undressed, to throw his shirt off and tug his jeans down his hips to hang around his thick thighs.

while you lay practically naked under him, he hovered without a single article of clothing shed from his body as he pulled his erect cock from his boxers.

the sight from below had made you impossibly more soaked—the way he looked down at you with a tiled head, balaclava still on while he remained fully clothed with just his thick, meaty cock poking out from his jeans as he stroked the length with one hand, the other toying with your clit.

he hadn't bothered to pull your panties down your legs, or tear them off even as he lined his weeping dick up to your pussy, biting back a groan at the sight of you desperately clenching around nothing in anticipation for his heavy cock.

precum oozed from the head of his dick, swiped away by his thumb as he stroked himself before teasing his length across your slick. he cursed under his breath at the warmth before slipping his bulbous head past your walls.

he felt the slight stretch of you around him, the whimper desperation for more as he fucked just the tip into you.

"think this'll teach ya what happens when i let ya do what ya want?" his voice is low and strained with withering control as his hips buck further into you involuntarily, "but i think ya do it on purpose, don't ya, love?"

you whined, his name spilling from your lips in response to his words because other than 'simon,' no other words could be formed. just like he wanted.

he watched the way your sopping pussy swallowed his dick, the way his meaty, veiny cock glistened with your slick every time he pulled out, only to slam back in. his bulbous tip kissing your cervix with each pounding thrust, his clothed hips hitting the back of your thighs, turning the skin red and staining his jeans with your slick.

his hips pistoned his cock further into your cunt with an unrelented pace as he leaned over you, feeling your bare skin through the fabric of his shirt as he sucked at your skin. he left marks purposely in areas he knew would be shown off the next time you dared to wear a dress like the one he's fucking you in. his lips bruising the fatty flesh of your breasts and the valley between them, up to your collarbone.

when he felt your first orgasm wash over you, his hips bucked relentlessly and unfaltering into you. the way your body trembled under him didn't stop him from rolling you onto your stomach.

"mm, 'm not done with you yet, lovie," he cooed from above, a hand running along your spine, feeling each vertebrae through your flesh.

his hand slid under your hips to hike your ass into the air as he fucked you into the mattress as one rough hand trailed to your waist to pull you back into his hard cock, and the other tangled in your hair to keep your pretty little wrecked face into the bedding.

with this new angle, he fucked his meaty dick further into your sweet cunt, feeling the way you clench around him with new sensitivity and the way his name fell from your lips in a new octave, muffled by the pillow your face was shoved into.

when he would find his release, he didn't stop either. he continued, though his paced slowed as he watched his creamy load seep from your glistening pussy, fucking it back into you with hard, slow thrusts. a ring of creamy white forming at the base of his cock and soaking into the denim of his newly ruined jeans.

he growled at the mewls that spilled from your lips at the feeling of his jeans against your overly sensitive cunt, pulling out of your pussy with a squelch as he replaced his dick with his fingers, swiping his load that spilled down from your hole to thrust it back into you.

a satisfied and proud hum rumbled his chest as he looked at the bruises and hickeys littering your skin so next time you decide to wear a dress so short and low cut, everybody can tell that you're his.

and maybe you would if it got you fucked like that by simon—but he doesn't need to know that. that's our secret.

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toyogamii · 3 months ago

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pt.1 pt.2

“i didn’t take you for the sit down restaurant type, ryo,” you bring your drink up to your lips and offer him a teasing smirk. he huffs and pulls at the collar of his black button down.

he doesn’t know how the hell you managed to get him, ryomen sukuna, resident town bad ass; on an actual date. but the way that sweet nickname you’ve taken to calling him rolls of your tongue might have something to do with it.

“hah, I’m usually not… figured you might be though,” he mumbles the last part, his ears turning a slight pink and you grin.

“well i appreciate you trying something new for me,” you look around at the candles and the suits and ties and most importantly at the gorgeous tattooed man in front of you (who looks so awkward in the most adorable way possible).

“however,” you continue, “i’d much rather you be comfortable for our date.”

“yeah?” he asks, giving you a grateful smile.

you nod.

“wanna get outta here?”

he flashes you a charming grin.

“hell yeah… though you might regret asking that, sweetheart.”

mere moments later you’re flying down the road, your heart pounding as you hold tight to sukuna’s waist. he’s graceful and calm as he drives the motorcycle but that does little to slow your breathing.

you’re wearing his helmet, but even through the darkened screen you can still see just how handsome he is. the street lights give him a halo like effect and the wind whips through his pink hair, pushing it out of his face.

“just a couple more minutes, doll!” he hollers over the sound of the wind and you nod, leaning your head on his broad back as best you can.

when he finally comes to a stop and you get off, your legs are still shaking and you take just a minute to gather yourself before looking around.

“takin me to a second location to dump my body off?” you ask, a brow raised.

sukuna gives you a dead pan look and pulls the helmet off your head. he freezes for just a minute as he takes in the way your hair is a mess and your makeup is a bit smudged but your eyes are crinkling and your smile is- god your smile is gonna fucking kill him one of these days.

“not funny,” he replies when he finally moves, flicking your forehead. you scrunch your face into a pout and god he wants to kiss you silly.

“where are we exactly?”

“come on.”

he turns and walks off and you hurry to catch up with him, slipping your hand into his. it takes everything in him not implode. your hand is warm and soft and so much smaller than his.

you’re killing him, he thinks, and yet… he doesn’t really seem to mind it. usually, the sound of someone rambling on and on would annoy the piss out of him. but listening to you chatter as he guides the both of you through the dark and dense patch of trees… if you’re killing him, he could die a happy man.

“we’re here,” he says. you peek around in him and gasp softly. you’re on a hill, overlooking the entirety of your home town. the street lights blare and you can hear the faint sounds of the city but the contrasting of the soft twinkling stars and the warmth of sukuna’s hand in yours has you reeling.

“it’s beautiful,” you murmur.

“i used to take yuuji here… before i had full custody of him. just to get him away from all… that.”

you nod and rest your head on his shoulder, not pushing him any further.

“i’m sure he loved it.”

sukuna chuckles and his arm makes its way around your waist.

“yeah, little brat would cry and cry when we had to leave. he won’t even remember it when he’s older though.”

you look up at him only to see he’s already looking down at you.

“you’ll remember it.”

“… yeah.”

there’s silence, a pause where time stops and suddenly the rest of the world fades away to nothing. it’s just you and him in a little bubble, away from all the craziness of the world.

before you can open your mouth to say anything, sukuna’s lips on yours. the kiss is everything that he isn’t; soft, gentle, hesitant. your arms come up to wrap around his neck and his grip on your waist tightens.

he never wants to stop kissing you. he can’t get enough of the way your tongue feels sliding against his and how your body trembles slightly as he holds you.

yeah… you’re gonna kill him one of these days, he just knows it.

pt. 4

#hehehe the long awaited pt 3 #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #big brother!sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff

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hollandsangel · 8 months ago

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move over | m. sturniolo

okAY here we go this is my first sturniolo fic please be nice to me i am afraid

ps if you’d like to be tagged in any (possible) future fics comment 🍜

summary: matt needs a bigger bed

wc: 1k

warnings: matt x fem!reader, cursing, nightmares? no description really, just funny and fluffy 🫡 all the triplets are in it but reader is dating matt!

..does anyone remember that one video where matt said chris never sleeps in his own bed? well…

gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !

you feel yourself slipping back into consciousness, and you can tell from the soft, pale blue light of matt’s bedroom that it’s morning. matt’s fast asleep behind you, resting on his stomach with you tucked up into his side, his right arm slung over your waist. you’re already upset that you have to pee, the idea of crawling out of the sleep-warm bed and leaving your boyfriend’s cozy embrace is not an appealing one, but the nagging in your bladder won’t go away.

with a sleepy sigh you stretch your arm out just enough to the tap the screen of your phone, the numbers 8:23 glaring back you. you still don’t have to be up for another hour and a half, which you think is an acceptable amount of time left to lay in matt’s arms and snooze a bit more, even if you don’t really need anymore sleep.

it’s a bit tricky to clamber out of bed without waking the sleeping boy next to you. trying to keep from dragging the duvet with you when you slide out. you tuck matt back in properly before you wander off to his bathroom. softly, you click the door shut, and it, along with your sleep-hazy mind, muffles any sounds coming from outside the bathroom.

for once, chris slept in his own bed, knowing you’d be sleeping over and nick was editing the video meant to go up later this afternoon early into the morning. it’s too early for him to be waking up on his own but something stirs him into wakefulness, his heart beating a little faster than it should be.

matt had woken up for a mere second when you slipped out of bed and hasn’t fallen back into the depth of his sleep, waiting for you to come back. he’s just barley alert enough to hear shuffling from down the hall, getting louder until the person responsible is standing at the crack in the door.

“matt?” chris whispers, peeking into the bedroom.

matt groans and rolls over just until he can see his brother over his shoulder, “what, chris?”

“i had a fucked up dream, dude,” chris says, padding further into the room, “where’s y/n?”

matt turns a little closer to his brother, facing him now, “bathroom,” he mumbles, “what was it about?”

chris is still standing in the middle of the room, phone held loosely in his hand, “you got into a fuckin’ car accident, a really bad one” he admits, feeling a bit foolish and juvenile for running to his brother after a bad dream, “can i sleep in here?”

matt’s face softens and he rubs his eye, “yeah, ‘course.” he says, watching chris slowly walk towards the bed, “that’s her side,” he says though when chris tries to lay where you had been.

chris fakes a scowl and matt makes a face back, sleep still tugging at his mind. the two of them lay back down, back to back, tugging the covers over their shoulders.

you finish washing your hands and shut off the bathroom light. rubbing at your eyes, you make your way back to matt’s room, looking forward to sleeping a bit longer. upon wandering in you’re met with more than one body under the blankets, making you stop in your tracks.

“chris?” you wonder outloud, stopped in the door way.

matt answers before his brother can, “he had a bad dream,” he explains to you, face smushed into the pillow, leaving the words all muffled and extra groggy.

“sure,” you say, as if chris sleeping in matt’s bed doesn’t surprise you (it doesn’t). dragging your feet over to your side of the bed to matt, where he’s taking up a bit too much room. “move over,” you tell him when he peels the blankets back for you. he shuffles back with a little too much effort and you climb back into bed.

once you’re settled matt scoots a little bit closer to you to make more room for the three people now in his queen sized bed, but also because he never passes up an excuse to hold you a little tighter.

you doze in and out, matt’s soft breath against your neck keeping you a little bit dazed but not quite enough to lull you back to sleep fully. it must be nearing 10 am now, more bright sun spilling in from the cracks in the curtains above the bed. you think chris is awake too, hearing breathy little chuckles every now and then. you reach for your phone, deciding on a mindless scroll through instagram.

after a few minutes it sounds like nick has also woken up, his footsteps audible in the bedroom above. you hear him coming down the stairs, and you think he stops in the kitchen until his voice fills the quiet halls.

“chris?” he asks, standing in his brother’s empty bedroom, confused as to why he’s not in bed.

“in here,” chris speaks up, waiting for nick to press the door open.

he does, standing at arms length with a skeptical look on his face, almost afraid of what he might find. “um…hello, what are you doing in here?” nick asks, finally crossing the threshold.

“he had a bad dream,” matt says into your shoulder, startling you. you didn’t know he was awake.

“i had a bad dwream,” chris says in that stupid pouty voice that drives all of you insane, no doubt looking at nick with puppy dog eyes.

“oh…kay,” nick says and you laugh at the suspicion still evident in his tone.

“did you see the tik tok i sent you?” chris is laughing but stops abruptly when matt kicks him in the calf, which makes you giggle into your boyfriend’s arm.

“yeah, but i’m a bit more preoccupied with the absurdity of the three of you in matt’s bed right now,” nick says in his distinct deadpan drawl, which only makes you smile more.

“c’mon nick you might as well join us,” you say, earning a loud, over exaggerated groan from matt, his arms tightening around your waist.

you think nick must oblige because he doesn’t say anything for a second, coming closer to the bed.

“move over, dummy fuck,” he says to chris, who laughs out loud and scoots closer to matt.

“i hate them,” matt whispers in your ear.

tags! @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo drabble #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x you

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bi-writes · 3 months ago

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Hi, you mentioned MOB and Simon do movie nights. What kind of movies do you think they'd watch together? I can picture him stomaching a cheesy rom com because he knows how much she loves them but I can also kind of imagine her surprising him by choosing something like a horror movie. I'm probably way off base. Idk why and this might just be me but I find that certain horror movies put me in a bit of a cozy mood lol

mail-order bride

"simon, did you get the popcorn?"

you hear what sounds like a grunt in response. you keep rummaging through the cabinet on your toes, frowning, pushing aside the cartons of stock and bags of rice as you look for the box he supposedly picked up.

"simon--?"

you jump when you feel two big hands on your waist. you gasp when he drags you backwards, pressing your ass against his front, reaching up over you as he slides the corn starch aside to pick out the box you were looking for. he drops it into your hands, giving the side of your neck a warm kiss before pulling away.

"you put it up there on purpose," you giggle, turning around to face him. he makes a face, feigning ignorance, and he puts a hand over his chest.

"dunno wot y'r talkin' about, luv," he mutters, touching your chin gently. "did y'pick a film?"

you nod, and he takes the box from your hands.

"mmm. i'll get it ready for ya. you get it started on the telly," he nods his head behind him. you give his cheek a light kiss before making your way behind him. you curl up on the couch, throwing a blanket over your legs. you watch as the cat slinks into the room from the corner of your eye, padding into the kitchen where she smells the popcorn. when simon comes back into the room, she's following him closely, staring up at the bowl in his hands as he takes a seat next to you.

he glares down at the cat as she takes a seat in front of his legs. she hops up onto the coffee table, sitting on the edge, and she blinks as he snarls at her, putting a piece of popcorn in his mouth and crunching down on it rather obnoxiously as if to taunt her.

"wot are we watchin'?" simon asks finally as you click the remote. you lean your back against one side of him, settling the blanket over both of you as you reach into the bowl and take a few pieces of popcorn.

"terrifier."

"ya wanna watch somethin' scary?" he chuckles, raising a brow. "didn't think ya'd fancy somethin' so..."

"so what?" you smile up at him, turning your head. "gory? you should know, i happen to appreciate low budget, indie films that feature lots of blood. besides, i heard people literally got sick from the second one, so we have to catch up."

simon snorts, bopping your nose with his thumb.

"y'r bloody hilarious, baby," he mutters, nudging his nose against yours. you put a hand on his chest and push him backwards, giggling.

"oh, no," you warn him, shaking your head. "we're not doing this again."

"doin' wot?"

"we haven't finished a single film in the last few weeks because you can't keep yourself off," you laugh, turning back to the tv.

"don't know wot y'r talkin' about," he murmurs, his eyes honed in on your mouth. the curve of it, how you wet it with your tongue, the cherry gloss that's still lingering from when you put it on earlier.

you lean up a little, whispering against his lips, "i mean..." you kiss him softly, "like last night..."

he chases you when you pull away, his breaths heavy as he stares down at the low neckline of your shirt, the peek of the bra he nearly tore off of you just a few hours ago. he meets your eyes, humming.

"mmm..." simon licks his lips, "fuckin' hell..."

you smile, big eyes, all soft.

"i really, really wanna watch it, simon," you whisper. "can you do that for me? pretty please?"

simon sighs, scrunching his nose a little before nodding his head.

"woteva y'want, baby. can have woteva y'want."

you crunch on more popcorn as you turn your head around. simon throws his arm around you, pulling you closer, and he narrows his eyes as the cat jumps onto the couch beside him. he relents finally, picking off a small piece of popcorn and setting it down in front of her.

simon nearly throws the entire bowl when she merely sniffs it and walks away.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #order up

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augustinewrites · 1 year ago

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“oh, you poor thing…” you murmur, stroking megumi’s hair. he’d been caught in the rain during the walk home yesterday, and had come down with a bit of a cold. the seven year old is curled up next to you on the couch, his head resting in your lap.

you glare at satoru when he scoffs from his end of the couch, the tip of his nose rosy and dripping with snot. “i was caught in the rain too, you know.”

“take some nyquil.”

you don’t even bother to spare his suffering a glance.

“can i have hot chocolate?” the little brat asks, his request followed by a weak cough. “my throat hurts.”

it’s almost ten in the evening, and the kid’s already brushed his teeth. there’s no way you’d say yes—

“of course! i’ll make some for your sister too.”

satoru’s mouth falls open - because he can’t breathe through his nose and because he’s shocked. “can i have some too?”

“i’ll make you tea with lemon and ginger,” you reply, carefully adjusting megumi on the couch as you get up. you even steal his blanket, draping it over the kid’s curled up form.

megumi peeks one eye open as soon as you leave, and satoru swears the smirk that follows is directed at him.

people have told him that kids are supposed to be gifts. but later - when he’s watching a lame documentary and choking down some bitter lemon ginger tea as megumi is spoiled with sips of chocolately heaven - he thinks they must mean gifts from hell.

_____

your lips are brushing over satoru’s collarbone when he wonders if he’d locked the bedroom door.

but then you bite and all his concerns go out the window.

your breath is hot against his skin, picking up when his hands grip your waist. chests rising and falling, the two of you love in sync. slow, deep kisses are exchanged in time with gentle grinds—

“i’m hungry.”

it makes satoru startle, banging his head against the headboard as you sit up, stuttering as you both turn to face the doorway.

“megumi,” you gasp. “how long have you been standing there?”

the blush colouring his cheeks is answer enough.

“i’ll make you something to eat,” you offer, leaving your boyfriend with a very unfortunate situation as you climb off his lap, shooting an apologetic look over your shoulder as you herd megumi out of the room.

satoru swears the kid shoots him a smug grin over his shoulder.

this, he thinks glumly as he heads to the bathroom to try and calm himself down. this is why he needs to stop doing nice things.

_____

exhausted can’t even begin to describe the way satoru feels after a long day of bugging nanami and exorcising curses.

he’s practically dragging his body through the apartment towards the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to strip out of his uniform and fall into bed next to you.

but he can’t, because the first thing he sees when he opens the bedroom door is megumi hogging his side of the bed.

you press your index finger to your lips as soon as satoru opens his mouth to protest. “tsumiki’s at a sleepover,” you explain.

“so? i’ll carry him back to his room—”

you make a noise if protest, waving his hands away as you whisper, “it’s his first night here without her.”

hands on his hips, satoru examines the very little free space left on the bed. “so that means you’d let me sleep on the couch?”

he doesn’t like sleeping alone. hasn’t liked it ever since you’d moved in and he’d decided he liked waking to the warmth of your body next to his.

“well, you could sleep in megumi’s bed.”

“or you could wake him up,” he counters loudly on purpose, earning a shush and a glare from you in answer.

“this is a good thing,” you insist once you’ve ensured the kid’s still asleep. “it means he trusts us!”

“but i’m tired,” he whines, even stamping his foot a little for emphasis. “i wanna cuddle with you.”

“fine,” you relent with a little sigh. “but you have to wake him.”

gleefully, he goes to shake the kid awake. he’s about to do it, but all it takes is one look at the peaceful look settled over that little face. over the year he’d gotten to know megumi, he’s only ever worn a scowl, or a look of general boredom. so to see him like this, finally settled into the household…

it’s enough to make the sorcerer smile, even as he sets up the makeshift bed of blankets on the bedroom floor.

_____

“sharing is caring,” satoru proposes the next afternoon at the dinner table. it’s just him and megumi right now, as you’d just left to visit shoko. “so you can cuddle with her on the couch, but the bedroom is all me, got it?”

megumi frowns, staring at the list (can he even read yet? gojo has no idea) “but what about movie night?”

“fine, but only for a little bit. after that she’s all mine.”

he takes the kids shrug as agreement and moves on.

“knocking,” he starts with the utmost seriousness. “is a very important thing to do when any door is closed. and next time tsumiki is out, you’re the one sleeping on the floor.”

(they both know that’s not going to happen, but it doesn’t hurt to try.)

once the terms of their deal are finalized, they shake on it.

“so we’ve come to an understanding, good. because i’d rather have you as my bro than my foe,” he says, dragging the edge of his thumbnail across his throat for emphasis.

megumi rolls his eyes before sauntering off to his bedroom, and satoru sighs, letting his forehead hit the tabletop with a dull thud.

he’d fought off suitors vying for your attention before, but never one as tough to beat as this one.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

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xo100 · 2 months ago

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Lazy mornings - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando Norris loves lazy mornings with you, sharing sweet kisses, soft touches, and playful conversations. In these quiet moments, he feels completely at peace, treasuring the time spent together.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1304

୨ৎ

Lando Norris had never been much of a morning person. Racing, adrenaline, and speed had always been his lifeblood, but the early wake-up calls that came with his career? Not so much. However, that all changed when you entered his life.

You had been dating for just a few weeks now, and yet, it felt like longer in the best way possible. Every moment with you felt comfortable, as if you two had known each other for years. Especially these lazy mornings together.

Lando loved lazy mornings, but only because he got to spend them with you.

It was one of those mornings now. The sun was barely peeking through the cracks of the curtains, painting a soft golden hue over the room. The world outside was still quiet, not quite ready to start the day. But inside Lando’s bedroom, everything was warm, peaceful, and just... right.

Lando stirred, blinking slowly as he felt the familiar weight of your body next to him. He smiled to himself before rolling onto his side to face you, his heart swelling with affection. He loved seeing you like this—sleeping so peacefully, with your hair splayed out over the pillow, your face soft and serene. He often found himself wondering how he got so lucky.

Without thinking too much about it, he reached out, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. His fingers lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing gentle patterns across your skin. You let out a little sigh in your sleep, shifting slightly closer to him. Lando couldn’t help but grin.

He leaned in closer, pressing the softest of kisses to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, and finally, to your lips. They were quick, feather-light kisses, but they held all the sweetness in the world. He loved waking you up like this—slowly, softly, without any rush. It was one of the little routines he'd grown to adore in your short time together.

Your eyelids fluttered slightly, and he knew you were starting to wake up, but you hadn’t opened your eyes just yet. Lando didn’t mind. He scooted closer, pulling you against his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of your body against his felt like home. He loved the way you fit against him, as if you were made to be held by him.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Lando murmured into your hair, his voice low and a little raspy from sleep.

You groaned softly, your lips twitching into a small smile, but your eyes remained closed. “Too early…” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep, making Lando chuckle.

“It’s never too early when you’re this cute,” he teased, pressing another kiss to your temple.

You finally cracked an eye open, just enough to give him a sleepy, half-hearted glare. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris,” you murmured, though there was no real bite to your words.

“Oh really?” Lando’s hand began to gently trace up and down your back, the touch so soft it sent a shiver down your spine. He grinned mischievously, knowing the effect he had on you.

You rolled your eyes, even though you couldn’t help the way your body relaxed further into him. “Maybe just a little bit,” you conceded with a playful smile, closing your eyes again.

Lando’s grin widened, proud of himself. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the familiar scent of you. It was comforting, grounding. “I love mornings like this,” he confessed quietly, his voice softer now, more vulnerable.

You hummed in agreement, your fingers lazily tracing circles on his arm. “Yeah?” you asked, still half-asleep.

“Mhm,” he mumbled against your skin, his lips brushing lightly against your collarbone. “I love waking up next to you. Feels like… I don’t know. Like everything’s just the way it’s supposed to be.”

That made you smile, and you finally opened your eyes fully, looking up at him. His face was inches from yours, his messy hair falling over his forehead in a way that made him look even younger, even softer. There was something about seeing him like this—unguarded, gentle—that made your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah?” you repeated, your voice softer now, more sincere.

“Yeah,” Lando said, his eyes locking onto yours, a rare seriousness in his gaze. “I like this. Us. Feels good.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. It wasn’t hurried or passionate, but slow and tender, filled with the warmth of a shared moment. When you pulled back, you found him grinning at you like a lovesick puppy, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Lando said, his grin only growing. “You’re just... beautiful, that’s all.”

You rolled your eyes again, though your heart fluttered at his words. “You’re ridiculous.

“And yet you love me,” he shot back quickly, his playful tone back in full force.

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Who says I love you?”

Lando gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Ouch. That hurts, babe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound filling the room with warmth. “Alright, alright. Maybe I do love you a little.”

Lando’s eyes lit up at that, even though he already knew. Still, hearing you say it—even just a little—made his chest swell with happiness. He leaned down, kissing you again, deeper this time, but still slow and tender.

His hand moved to rest on your hip, his thumb brushing gently against the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up a bit. It was innocent, but still enough to make your breath catch slightly. He noticed, of course, and pulled back with a smug little smirk.

“You’re trouble,” you whispered, narrowing your eyes at him, though there was no real annoyance behind it.

“I know,” he said, grinning, his fingers now tracing patterns along your waist. “But you like it.”

“Debatable,” you replied, though the way your body was reacting to his touch betrayed your words.

Lando chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You sighed dramatically, pretending to be exasperated, but truthfully, you loved these mornings just as much as he did. The lazy conversations, the gentle touches, the way he looked at you like you were his entire world—it was something you never knew you needed until you met Lando.

As you lay there, tangled up in each other, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. You weren’t rushing to start the day, weren’t thinking about anything outside of this bed, this moment. And that was rare. Especially for Lando, whose life was usually a whirlwind of fast cars, media obligations, and constant travel.

But here, in this quiet moment, it was just you and him. No race cars. No cameras. Just two people in love, basking in the warmth of a lazy morning together.

Lando shifted slightly, pulling you even closer—if that were possible—and you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His hand continued to draw lazy patterns on your back, soothing and comforting.

“I could stay like this forever,” Lando murmured, his voice soft and content.

“Me too,” you whispered back, feeling the same way.

He smiled, his fingers still trailing along your skin. “We should do this more often.”

“We do this every morning,” you teased.

“Yeah, but we should make it a rule. No early mornings unless it’s for racing,” he said, his tone playful but his words sincere.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Deal.”

And with that, you both fell into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. The world outside could wait. For now, this was all that mattered.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, I hope y’all enjoyed! Also thank you so much for the support on my other stories!

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sukunasteeth · 8 months ago

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Picking You Up From Work

Sukuna leans on the bumper of his Camaro, hoping a drop of rain doesn’t land perfectly on the tip of his cigarette and snuff it out. He’s pretending not to watch the front door of your workplace, like an anxious dog waiting for his owner to come home, but it’s ten minutes past the time you said you’d be out, and he was ready to take you to his apartment and settle down for the night. It had been a long day- he wanted to forget it in the taste of your whimpering on his tongue.

Customers pass him on their way into your workplace. Sukuna wonders briefly what has them whispering to each other and sneaking glances over at him: the nearly sixty year old car or the man covered in tattoos leaning against it?

Fifteen minutes pass before he checks his phone again. It was unlike you to be late, you knew Sukuna had a pet peeve of not being on time and, despite how hairbrained you were, he knew you tried to meet him halfway. Looking over his shoulder, he peeks at the flowers sitting on the passenger seat waiting for you. If he had known you'd be a minute, he would have put a splash of water in the bottom of the flower wrap holding the bouquet together. He clicks his tongue in disappointment, hoping they don’t wilt by the time you get to them.

“I’m sorry, I have to get going-” Your voice chimes through the sound of the rainfall like a cleansing bell, bringing Sukuna’s attention snapping back towards the exit of your work.

You're standing halfway between his car and the building, directly in the middle of the parking lot. A man dressed in a similar uniform to yours is standing a little too close to you for Sukuna’s comfort.

He flicks the ash off of the end of his cigarette and takes a drag.

“Are you sure?”

It’s been a long day.

“We could go get some coffee and just hangout for a bit-”

A really long day.

Granted: working customer service you expected long days. Grating days. Days in which you questioned your faith in humanity. But, that all usually ended when you clocked out for the night and headed home. You could easily forget all of it at the door. Tonight, however, the annoyance of having to save face continues.

You had been trying to give this guy a hint all day as he followed you around, desperate to catch your attention and doing anything to gain a brownie point. It was really starting to tick you off.

Not only that, you knew Sukuna was waiting for you somewhere in the parking lot and it was only a matter of time before this man was decapitated before your very eyes.

Dammit, you just wanted to go home.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’ve got someone waiting for me. Have a good night!” You try to wave him off, offering a polite smile before you turn your back to him.

"Who's waiting for you?" Sam calls out, still not catching the hint.

Before you can reply, a hand reaches around your waist, securing you to a familiar side- but you've been on edge all day, just waiting for your coworker to make one bold wrong move. On instinct, you snatch the wrist at your hip with a deathgrip before realization is able to save you.

Your eyes whip up to meet Sukuna's smirking gaze, his smile flashing into that serpentine grin that makes your fight or flight mode go off.

"Ohoho-" He chuckles, and there’s a mischievous darkness lurking beneath it.

"'Kuna!" You ease your grip immediately, cradling his hand in sympathy. Part of you is instantly relieved he’s here to sweep you away, and the other part is sweating over how he’s going to handle this situation.

Sukuna could be a bit possessive.

"Good grip." He purrs, snatching up your own hand instead and continuing his original plan of tucking you securely into his side. "You turned your back to the scum bag, though." He tsks quietly. "My brat should know better."

Sukuna easily turns the both of you around, lifting you slightly to move without tripping you. You’re forced to face your coworker once again, although you notice that your unease has dissipated with Sukuna next to you now.

“Is this...? A-Are you guys…” Sam sneers at Sukuna's sudden appearance, his poorly shaven lip curling up in disgust.

Sukuna merely hums in response, “Every night while you’re wet dreamin’ about it.”

“S-Sukuna!” You interrupt, squeezing his fingers. Heat burns in your ears and you can feel them going pink under Sam’s now incredulous stare. “Is… my… yes.” You finish quietly, trying to avoid either one of the men watching you. Letting people into your personal life was not something you liked to do, even though you're sure your fiance would love it if you screamed it from the rooftops.

“Aw,” Sukuna makes a fond, sentimental noise and you press your elbow into his rib cage when you hear a mischievous lilt to his tone.

“You and this guy?” Sam gives Sukuna an obvious once over, crossing his gangly arms over his chest in disapproval. “He’s not even your type!”

Oh.

Maybe this guy deserved a good beating.

Even you were too afraid to look at your fiance at that moment, you could tell by the look on Sam’s face that Sukuna wasn’t happy.

The scariest part about Sukuna getting angry, was the lack of reaction. There was no glaring. No muscles going rigid. No shouting. There was only this overwhelming sense of danger, like a prey animal realizing it was about to meet its predator.

Sam tries to fix it, sensing the murderous intent hanging in the air, but his ego still tries to bite: “Look, dude, I don’t mean any harm. I just think she needs a gentleman.”

…

Now that piques your interest.

You need a gentleman?

You almost completely forget about Sukuna for a moment, your head snapping in your coworker's direction with breakneck speed.

“Gentleman?” You repeat, scoffing. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been breathing down my neck like a fucking animal in heat all day. Practically begging for half a second of female attention in any form you can get it and you’re standing here-after trying to follow me to my car like some fucking pervert- and you’re trying to tell me you’re a gentleman?”

When you try to take a step forward, you're reminded of Sukuna's unrelenting grip on your hip bone, holding you in place.

“Calm down- all I wanted to do was walk you to your car.” Your ill-favored coworker rolls his eyes, although you can sense his discomfort in the way he takes a few steps away from you. His ego speaks again, and you see red. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

What.

“Alright, alright” Sukuna is shoving something cold and jagged into your hands, distracting the sudden confused rage that washes over you. Before you can expel it, he unfastens his hand from around your waist and nudges you in the direction behind him. “Go start the car.”

You blink up at him, taken back by the entire situation. His keys dangle in your frozen fingers, clinking together.

Sukuna knows you're mad. Knows the only thing on your mind is curb stomping the man in front of you. And you know he won't let you get anywhere near that.

“Come on, Duckie.” He purses his lower lip in a mock pout when you don't turn to leave immediately. There’s something dark glittering behind the faux playfulness in his eyes, reassuring you that nobody was going to get off easy, asking you politely to turn your gaze from what he was about to do.

His calloused thumb sweeps over your fingertips, gliding over the deep red nail polish there. The kiss he presses against your knuckles is one meant for royalty. Soft and sweet. And incredibly persuasive. “I just got these nails done. Lemme keep ‘em pretty for ya.”

When Sukuna opens the driver side door and slides in, fifteen minutes have passed. There’s a smear of blood on his cheek that matches the one on his knuckles, the red catches his eye in the review mirror. He licks his finger, using his spit to try and wipe it off before he turns to meet you, smiling sweetly.

“What should we get for dinner?"

#jjk #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #fluff #?#I think #I just had this scene in my head #modern au #I feel like sukuna would be a car head #grease monkey sukuna #my writing

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chestersturniolo · 29 days ago

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Playing Hard to Kiss

Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader

summary; Chris has been clingy all day, so you decide to have a little fun

needy!clingy!chris fluff , based on this request

·˚ ༘·˚

It was a quiet afternoon, and Chris was being his usual, clingy self. You were used to it by now—physical touch was definitely his love language. He always had a hand on you, whether it was resting on your leg, wrapped around your waist or pulling you in for random kisses. You loved how affectionate he was. And today, you noticed Chris seemed extra needy. Which to be honest you didn’t know was possible, but he has no limits, he would crawl inside your skin if he could.

Every few minutes, he was reaching out to hold your hand or leaning in for a kiss, his head practically glued to your shoulder as you sat on the couch. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He was always touchy, but this was next level.

When he rested his hand on your leg for what felt like the hundredth time that hour, you decided to have a little fun. You gently brushed his hand off you, trying to play it off like you were just readjusting in your seat. Chris immediately placed it back, his fingers lightly squeezing your thigh. You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

He shifted beside you, leaning in for another one of his constant kisses, but just as his lips were about to meet yours, you tilted your head ever so slightly, pretending to stretch. His kiss landed awkwardly on your cheek, and you could feel his confusion before he pulled back, a small frown creasing his brow.

“Everything okay?” he asked

“Yea, I’m fine” you replied casually, reaching for your phone as if nothing had happened. You could feel his eyes on you, confused but still trying to be subtle about it.

Chris gave it another go a few moments later, leaning in again. This time, you ducked away completely, pretending to adjust the pillow behind you. His lips met empty air, and when you looked back, he was staring at you with his brows furrowed

“Ma are you…dodging me?” he asked, a pout forming on his lips.

“Dodging you? Nooo” you teased, trying not to laugh.

He huffed, clearly not amused by the game. You could tell he was getting frustrated, the way his shoulders slumped and his lips pressed together. He let out a small sigh, but this time, he didn’t try again. Instead, he sat back, his hands now folded in his lap, looking dejected.

A few minutes passed, and you realized Chris hadn’t put his arm around you again, nor had he tried to kiss you like he normally would. When you glanced over at him, his expression was distant, and then, without a word, he got up and left the room with a quiet huff.

You blinked, surprised. You hadn’t expected him to give up so quickly-he was usually much more persistent when it came to affection.

a little while goes by before you realised he still hadn’t come back.

“Chris?” you called, but there was no response.

Curious now, you wandered down the hallway toward his room. The door was half-open, and when you peeked inside, you saw him sitting on the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression sulky as he stared at the wall. He wasn’t saying anything, just sitting there, looking every bit like a child who had been denied his favorite toy.

“Chris?” you said softly, stepping into the room.

He glanced at you briefly but didn’t say anything, his pout even more pronounced now that you were closer. His usual playful spark had dimmed, and guilt tugged at your chest. Maybe you’d pushed him a bit too far with your teasing.

“You okay?” you asked, sitting down beside him on the bed.

He shrugged, still not meeting your eyes properly, his arms tightening around himself. “I’m fine”

The sulky tone in his voice said otherwise. You sighed softly, realizing he was genuinely feeling a little hurt. You reached out to touch his arm, giving him an apologetic smile. “I was just messin’with you, ya know?”

his expression stayed blank

Feeling bad now, you leaned in to kiss him, hoping to make it up to him. But just as your lips were about to meet his, Chris dodged, pulling back.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Wait-did you just…?”

you tried again, and he turned his head,avoiding your kiss again. And this time, you could see the mischief in his eyes as he gave you a smug look. “Not so nice when it happens to you, huh?”

You let out a small laugh. “Okay, okay, I deserved that” you admitted, trying again to close the gap between you

But Chris wasn’t letting up just yet. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with a playful huff. “You rejected me all afternoon, and now you expect me to just give in?” he teased, his voice still carrying that slight pout.

“Oh c’mon Chris” You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching to rest a hand on his cheek.

He eyed you for a moment, his expression softening, but still, he kept up the act. “Hmm, I don’t know. I might need a little more convincing..”

“Oh, really?” you said with a grin, leaning in closer, your nose brushing against his. barely any distance between your lips. You hear his breath hitch slightly from his agape mouth.

“Screw it” he whispers, crashing his lips into yours, letting out a little “Mm” at the satisfaction of finally getting his kiss.

he pulls away just slightly “don’t tease me like that again, you hear me? I like my kisses too much” he mumbles against your lips, before reconnecting them as quick as he possibly could.

·˚ ༘·

a/n; thankyou for the request anon,ILY💋

- 𝑺𝒂��𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST HERE

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh

@phone4pills @demzzz @sturniooolos

@monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4 @brianna-grace12

@blahbel668

@stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i

@starstrucktyrantinfluencer @fratbrochrisgf @emely9274

@chriseatingmeoutin4k @slvttie-zx

@bbybloop @sturnn372 @chrissturnsss @slut4m4tt @izzylovesmatt @spideylovin

@sturniolossss @sturniolofannnforevver @zariyam @r0s3luvr

@sturniolosluttt @matts1freak @conspiracy-ash

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo angst #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fluff

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sanarsi · 2 months ago

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Favourite Lamb

post-Jackson!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel finally has what he wanted – a quiet life, a farm, and you. After a hard day at work, you're eager to take care of your man. Warnings: +18, MDNI, porn with a little bit of plot, old man!Joel, soft/rough throat fucking, soft!dom!Joel, blowjob, post-Jackson!Joel, age gap (not specified) Wordcount: 2k An: We love taking care of our man so it's nothing more than giving him pleasure. Music I worked with: Sweet - Cigarette After Sex

Masterlist

A quiet noise woke you from your sleep. You looked around the dark room, noticing that the other side of the bed was still empty. You frowned, realizing that Joel still hadn't joined you even though it was late and he should’ve been home by now.

Another noise caught your attention, so you slowly stood up and quietly opened the door. The dim light reached the hallway from the living room where a quiet curse had come from. You recognized the voice, so you headed towards.

A loud sigh echoed off the walls as you peeked out from behind the wall.

“Joel?” Your soft voice caught the attention of the man sitting on the couch.

He looked up in shock to see you up at this hour. “Shit,” he cursed, realizing it was probably his fault. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, baby, sorry.”

You smiled softly as you walked deeper into the room. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he placed the glass of whiskey on the table and held out his hand so you can walked over and let him pull you onto his lap.

“Where were you?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and snuggling into his chest.

"Detector at the eastern border has stopped working," he explained, sighing quietly with tiredness and wrapping arm around your waist, hugging you tighter. “I know it's late but I just wanted to get this over with,” he added before you could point it out. He hated when he gave you reasons to worry and you hated it too.

Now, that you lived far away from everything and everyone, you worried about him more than ever. For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to look away from each other as you tended to your little farm. Sometimes it scared you that you didn't see him for more than ten minutes. It was hard to get used to this kind of life after having eyes in the back of your head every day.

“And you fix it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

At first, silence answered you, and then a quiet snort. “No.”

You laughed quietly and rested your forehead against his temple, allowing yourself a moment of closeness you had been missing all day.

“We’ll take care of it tomorrow,” you suggested, and Joel knew very well that there was no point in arguing with you about it. "And now I will take care of you," you added, nuzzling his cheek. You felt his muscles relax beneath you before he smiled in amusement.

"Yeah? You want to take care of me?" He glanced at you and grabbed your chin between his fingers to pull you in for a soft kiss. You purred contentedly and without hesitation, you pressed yourself harder to him, deepening the kiss. Your tongues lazily played with each other as you slowly adjusted your position until you were straddling him.

“Mhm,” you murmured against his lips. “How does that sound?”

Joel looked at your delicate features and innocent smile and his heart immediately skipped a beat.

“Perfect, baby,” he whispered as his hands began to smooth over your bare thighs.

The rough touch of his warm hands sent shivers through your body, encouraging you to grind your hips against his. His quiet sigh echoed against your lips before you leaned in for a kiss again. The taste of whiskey on his tongue brought you a familiar feeling of safety, and the grip of his hands on your ass ignited your core.

Cock in his pants was getting harder with every passing minute as you pressed your warmth against his. In moments like these, he was reminded of how much he hated being away from you for so long.

You moaned as he dug his fingers deeper into your flesh. The lazy kisses grew deeper with each passing second making the material of your panties wet.

“I missed you, baby,” he whispered against your lips before letting his hands disappear under your tank top.

You sighed as you felt his large hands on your breasts. He began to tease your nipples with his thumbs, drawing a soft moan from you. He loved the sounds you made just for him.

His sweet little girl…

"She missed me too?" he asked, starting to plant kisses on your neck. His thick stubble teased your delicate skin, making you shiver as another wave of arousal soaked your underwear.

“Always,” you gasped under his touch.

You let him take off your top, which landed on the other end of the couch. His attention immediately focused on your tits, he began massaging one and with a quiet growl began kissing, sucking, and nibbling on the other.

You could feel his movements becoming more and more needy, and even though you wanted to give in, you had other plans for him.

“I was supposed to take care of you,” you reminded him, running your nails over his scalp.

Joel pulled away from your nipple with a smack, looking at you with a drunken gaze. He was breathing heavily and it was possible that if he wasn't as tired as he was at that moment, he would have started arguing with you about it. But today was your lucky day because he gave in without resistance, leaning comfortably against the back of the couch.

"Right," he nodded. "Go ahead."

You laughed under your breath and leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on his lips before you started moving lower and lower, to his neck and the exposed part of his chest. Your soft lips made him unable to resist the bliss that began to take over his senses. He closed his eyes, relaxing under your touch as you started to unbutton his shirt, kissing every exposed part of his chest.

The lower you were, the more you had to retreat until you finally ended up kneeling between his legs. He couldn't deny himself this sight, so he began to watch as your fingers easily managed to fasten his jeans. Without a word, he lifted his hips so you could slide the material down his thighs. His cock was already standing stiff, showing its shape under his boxers.

You unconsciously licked your lips as saliva began to flow into your mouth. It had been a while since you had the chance to look at him from this perspective. Joel would rather make love to you than see you kneeling in front of him. Maybe he was really getting old and would rather see you cry with his cock inside you than you choke on it.

“Not too deep,” he reminded as you began to slide his underwear off.

You looked at him with a sweet smile and rolled your eyes at his protectiveness. “I told you, I don’t mind.”

“I know, baby,” he sighed and clenched his jaw tighter as you cupped his base. “But not too deep,” he repeated gently, with concern.

You nodded quietly before your tongue met his tip. A familiar taste took over your senses as you slowly began to wet his head. Joel moaned softly as he felt your tongue gently caress him, up and down and around, until you sucked on him, letting a line of saliva run down his length, stopping at your fingers. He hissed at the sudden surge of pleasure, watching your lips wrap around his thickness. You didn't even give him a moment to breathe before swallowing him halfway.

"Oh fuck," he gasped and twitched as his balls tightened painfully.

You began to work on his cock, taking one half into your mouth with wet sounds and pumping the other with your hand. A shuddering breath left his lungs as he realized why he didn't like it when you gave him a blowjob.

One answer – he always came too quickly.

Then he heard the first choking sound and his cock throbbed dangerously. "Easy, baby, easy," he tried to calm you down, slow you down. But despite his words, you did it again.

You knew the effect you had on him, the way you choked on him, he was experiencing fucking nirvana. He didn't want to admit it, but you had already witnessed him come in mere minutes. And now you were going to do that again.

He couldn't control his moans anymore as you swallowed him deeper and deeper over and over again. His hips were thrusting towards you as if he couldn't control his own body. His mind was saying something different than his balls, that were dripping with your saliva. He wanted more but at the same time he didn't.

You felt his cock harden, heralding the approaching fulfillment, so you only sped up your head movements. Loud gasps mixed with growls, and while he fought the pleasure, you sucked your cheeks in contentment, licking the sensitive flesh at the tip.

“Baby…” he gasped in warning.

You moaned with your mouth full and his cock twitched deep in your throat. The next sound of you choking was like a red rag to a bull for him, he couldn’t help himself as he placed his hand on the back of your head. You didn’t protest as he began to hold you in place, your nose pressed against his mound, and began to thrust his hips upward. You relaxed, letting him go as deep as he could and the sounds leaving his throat were enough payment for the tears in your eyes.

“Yes, yes,” he hissed, “you’re such a good girl.” His cock slowly took your breath away and you instinctively tried to pull back but he wouldn’t let you. “I know, baby, I know.” And he kept pushing until his breathing couldn't keep up with his movements and his cock began to throb.

You moaned tearfully, to which he responded with a blissful groan before hot cum shot straight down your throat. You swallowed everything that leak out of him as he came down from his peak, fucking your mouth slower and slower. Finally, he sighed in relief and let you pull away for air.

You almost choked on your own tears as you straightened up and began to wipe the drool from your chin. Joel looked at you with a drunken look, bliss written all over his face while you looked like a disaster, crying with red eyes and swollen lips. A feeling of regret appeared in his chest as he realized the state he had brought you to.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said worriedly, leaning down to you. His warm hands found their way to your cheeks, wiping away the traces of tears. He hated that he was losing control with you, but as much as he tried to fight it, he just couldn't. He hated the sight of you in such a state, but he loved the feeling of your lips around his cock. "I didn't mean to—"

"I liked it," you interrupted him with a gentle smile. Joel blinked a few times, not being able to tell if he heard you correctly.

“You… like it?” he asked in disbelief. You barely had time to nod before he pulled you up onto his lap and hugged you to his chest. You licked your swollen lips and rubbed your eyes to get rid of the last traces of the glass effect. His strong arms wrapped you in warmth as you pressed yourself deeper into him. He watched your innocent smile with a tender gaze and allowed himself to press his cheek into your palm as you began to stroke his stubble.

"Like I said, I don't mind." You leaned in to steal a gentle kiss. Joel, eyes closed, smiled at the tender gesture and nuzzled your nose.

"I love you, you know that?" he whispered, running his fingers over your skin.

"You have no other choice," you smiled wider, to which he snorted with laughter and pulled you in for a kiss.

Tags some babes @bbyanarchist @xdaddysprincessxx @yorksgirl @joelssluttyknee @amyispxnk @21stcenturywitchcraft

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal smut #sanarsi fic

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laumier · 2 months ago

Text

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫. ⋆ 엔하이픈 hyung line.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: enha x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pwp-ish ?? , swearing , pet names, riding in jake’s, dirty talk, mentions of being in pain, suggestive in hoon’s hc, praises, hickeys, missionary

lala’s note. definitely doing this for atz. also, i got carried away with jake’s.. whoops :p.

��⠀⺀ LEE HEESEUNG.

the sun peeked through the beige colored curtains, signaling that it was well past 8am. you and heeseung remained in bed, bodies tangled together under the white sheets along with subtle touches from each other.

he was propped up on his elbow, leaning over you with his lips attached to yours. his hands roaming your body underneath the sheets. the sound of breathing and small moans filled the bedroom as the two of you still had a bit of adrenaline from the night before.

you threw your leg over his, pressing your body closer to his as he deepened the kiss.

“baby,” he whispered against your lips, leaning into your touch.

you hummed in response, somewhat distracted by the way he touched you.

“i need it..” his kisses traveled down to your neck, nibbling here and there. you hissed quietly, trying not to give into him seeing as this would’ve been the 5th time you both went at it.

“hee.. again? can we at least start the day first?” your laugh was cut short with a moan as heeseung found your sensitive spot, sucking a hickey there.

“can’t start the day without my daily honey..” he mumbled. you rolled your eyes when he mentioned the ‘honey’. it was a little name he had given your pussy. you remembered him saying that it was sweet and how sticky in between your legs would get whenever you were aroused.

“hee,” you whined, trying to push him away so you could climb out of bed.

“unhunh,” he protested with a grumble, his arm coming to lock around your waist so that you couldn’t move. he began shuffling his way under the thick duvet, giving you a mischievous smile. you squirmed around until he grabbed ahold of your thighs, holding them in his larger hands.

“just one more taste, baby..”

⠀⠀⺀ PARK JAY.

your back arched off of the bed as jay thrusted into you slow and deep, his length dragging against your soft walls. your moans were soft, but the sound bounced off of the walls making them seem much louder. jay grunted into your neck quietly, rocking his hips at a torturous pace.

the two of you couldn’t seem to get enough of each other, even with how many times you came the night before. jay was infatuated with you, just as you were with him. he wanted to show you that love all over again.

your nails clawed at his back, your legs wrapping around his waist as the stickiness between you both became messier.

“jay,” you gasped as his hips suddenly sped up, brushing against your g-spot. your mouth created an ‘O’ shape as you struggled to get any word out.

jay groaned, shivering when you clenched around him.

“fuck, i love you so much..”

you placed your hands on each side of his face as he picked his head up to look you in the eyes. you leaned in, pressing your lips against his in a quick, rough kiss.

jay found himself now pounding into you at a way quicker pace than before. the bed slightly creaked as the headboard hit the wall softly. if he had any self control before, it was definitely all gone now. you were just too irresistible to him.

your hand came down to where you and jay were connected, spreading your folds so jay could have more access. the squelching from your pussy became louder as jay dug deeper and you inched closer to the edge.

“deeper, babe, deeper..” you moaned out, unraveling your legs so you could spread them.

your high pitched whines only fueled jay, his hips now moving like they had a mind of their own.

you both wouldn’t be leaving the bed anytime soon.

⠀⠀⺀ SIM JAKE.

“fuuck, you feel too good,” jake threw his head back, his hands finding their way onto your hips. his long brown strands stuck to his forehead as his sweat dripped.

you lifted your hips up once more, his length sliding out of you, covered with cum and your juices. you took him back inside you, a hoarse moan escaping your mouth as you leaned down, pressing your chest against jake’s.

his hands traveled past your hips, gripping the soft flesh while guiding you up and down on him.

“mhm.. ride that dick like you need it, mama.” he hissed, landing a slap on your ass. you bit your lip, whining as he began thrusting his hips up to help you.

jake stared up at you in awe, eyes lidded and filled with love. he was addicted to you. you were almost like a drug to him. he was hooked.

“ja..jake,” you mewled. he didn’t respond at first, distracted by the way you moved against him. he shuttered, a whiny moan escaping his plump lips.

“jake.. i have… t-to get ready..”

he panted, shaking his head. he picked up the pace, your ass now slapping his thighs.

“nah.. just need you here with me..”

you began to slouch against him as you continued to whine. you tried to protest but your body still gave into him. your hips instinctively moved against his, giving you more pleasure.

he landed another harsh slap against your ass, earning a whimper from you.

“need you to cum all over me, baby.. keep putting that pretty pussy on me,”

jake’s words seemed to give you a sudden rush of adrenaline, making you forget about the shift you had in an hour.

⠀⠀⺀ PARK SUNGHOON.

you opened your eyes to see sunghoon’s back facing you as he sat on his side of the bed, probably still trying to wake himself up. you reached out, running your hand up his back, causing him to jump a bit.

you ran your nails down his back lightly, watching the goosebumps appear on his skin. he licked his lips, your touch bringing memories back from the sleepless night that you both had.

you sat up, the blanket falling of of your body as you moved to sit behind him. your hands traveled from his back to in front of him, sliding them down his chest slowly.

“g’morning..” your voice came out in a raspy whisper as you placed your lips right by his ear. you planted a kiss behind it, making your way down to his neck and shoulder.

he tilted his head to the side, giving you more access. your hands continued their actions, their movements causing sunghoon’s face to heat up. he was enjoying this too much.

“mornin’,” he mumbled, quietly hissing after, your kisses and nibbles making him weak.

your continued your wet kisses, making his breath hitch. he would’ve turned around and laid you out on the bed right then and there but he had things planned for the day. ‘things’ meaning his very demanding job.

“what’s planned for today?” you asked, your voice low and seductive.

sunghoon’s hand came to grab yours from his chest, bringing it to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to it.

“the usual. whatever the mangers have on the schedule.”

you hummed in response, hardly listening to whatever he said. you only wanted him and his body against yours so it was hard for you to focus on anything else.

“stay home, baby..”

“what?” he chuckled lightly.

“tell them you can’t make it..” you began kissing down his neck again, this time in all his weakest spots. your hands wandered all over him, making it hard for him to say no.

“y/n..—“

“please, hoonie? just want you to myself today.” your whiny tone was starting to turn sunghoon on. he exhaled, reaching for his phone on the nightstand.

“you’re lucky i love you.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

𐙚 : — comment or send an ask to be added to my taglist.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦.

#𝓵𝑎𝑙𝑎 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬.#enhypen x reader #enhypen hyung line #enhypen smut #enhypen suggestive #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fanfiction

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comfortless · 6 months ago

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dog hybrid recruit König thots??

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. more loner x loner because it is a treat for me. fem (afab) reader. König is a man just with ears and a tail. vague smut.

He’s the one that was never picked.

So maybe you’re too busy for a puppy hybrid, but maybe you’re a bit too lonely for an empty apartment. You don’t have the space for a big, excitable dog. The cats and bunnies are in high demand, too, there’s no shot of you adopting one of the cute, softer things within your budget. So you settle for a dog. The only dog left at the shelter.

His papers state that he comes from Austria, aged twenty-five and never been put into an actual home before. He’s endured some rigorous military training: scenting, tracking, breaking down thick doors with only a shoulder and an efficient push. A hunter through and through. Then, following his merits: erratic, jumpy, impulsive, and more than a little aggressive.

This dog doesn’t growl, only bites.

The paper sits crumpled in your hands as you eye the dimly lit hallway to your left. Posters of information line the beige walls to either side, some with photos of proud kitties and dogs, hand-in-hand with their companions and cheery phrases printed above in a bright, yellow cursive.

If anything, those are the ones that give you the final push to adopt this unloved, discarded experimental soldier. He’s only been given this one very last chance before… You would rather not think of what comes if you’re to turn away and leave him to rot and wither here. It must have happened a dozen times already: ambitious families looking for a more intriguing addition only to lock eyes with this pitiful thing and shake their heads ‘no’ for him to be put on death row like this.

“He’s scary,” the clerk reminds you once you’re finally led down the hall to the tiny room your new pet— no, friend, must be kept in. It was easy to think of them as something else sometimes. Animal instincts as prevalent as their claws, teeth, and fuzzy little ears. But you didn’t need a pet, there were an abundance of shops for those. You needed a good soul to spill your guts to and maybe pet from time to time.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

The poor thing is locked away to fester in what more closely resembles a cell than anything resembling a home. A steel door with a thin, narrow gap in the middle like a peephole keeps him locked in tight. Peering through that narrow gap, you only then seem to realize just what an impulsive decision you’re making.

König is exactly what the clerk said, continues to say next to you as she searches for the correct key on the ring. He’s bigger than any other hybrid you’ve seen before, built narrow at the waist but broad and deadly where it matters most; arms like narrow trees and thighs larger than your head, all muscle and intimidation, even with the cute, perky ears peeking out of the top of his helmet. He was definitely used for guarding and killing, and how a man his stature could even begin to fail that was unknown to you. Not that it was necessary. At most, he may need to shoo a scuttling pest out of the front door and put away a dish or two.

When the door swings open, the clerk offers a hesitant nod before dismissing herself back down the hall, and you’re left stood with a pair of blue eyes locked directly onto you.

König assesses with a tilt of his head and a slow ascent to his feet. He’s clad in layers of black, an empty vest where magazines or grenades must have been in place prior. Hell if you knew. He should have been given a fresh change of clothes after being discharged and sent to this place. A proper bed, too, considering the only furniture in this barren place seemed to be a cot that could never hope to hold him.

If not for the swaying of his tail, you might even find yourself nervous, but he does well to try and look approachable, even greets you with a thickly accented tongue beneath that hood. A simple, “Hallo.”

“I’ve adopted you,” you explain, and it sounds ridiculous. You can’t just adopt a full-grown man. Maybe a puppy or some hybrid child, never a man better suited for a gladiator pit than a home. “I mean that… if you want to come home with me, you can.”

He gives you a huff, a burst of breath that pushes the hood out from his face and a near imperceptible roll of his eyes as a step is taken toward you. It must sound stupid, even to him, but the wiry tail at his back does not cease its wagging. No matter how stern the glimpses of his face seem to look and how alarming his size may be, he’s nothing but an eager pup it seemed.

“Richtig… Then let’s go.”

Life with your big soldier turns out to be remarkably easy.

The first few weeks are dedicated to stoking up some sort of bond and rationing out chores. Simple tasks to see how he adapts, and small rewards in the form of pets along the velvety fur of his ears and scratches beneath his chin. The walks with you seem to be his favorite and tend to be long, but he remains right at your side the entire way. The only barking to be heard comes from nosy passersby that warn you to keep your beast on a leash, but you let him be reasoning that it wouldn’t do you any good at all. Your strength was that of a tiny rabbit’s by comparison.

König is clean enough from his prior military training and does as you ask without complaint. Even things you don’t request, such as your laundry are taken care of before you ever even return from work. He’s overbearing on those evenings, when you’ve been apart and he sates himself drunk on the scent of your perfume still clinging to the collar of an old sweater. Excitable and sweet, though, when he curls at your side while some movie plays on the television screen.

It amazes you how easily he’s shifted from stiff to adoring in a matter of days, but it’s rare to have a moment to yourself now. The hybrid is insistent on pulling you up into his lap when you’re curled on the couch, or rushing behind to hoist you up and pin you between an expanse of chest and the kitchen counter with drooly licks against the side of your neck and cheek. Biting, too. You try your best to bully that out of him, flicking at his ears or shoving against his face, but there’s always a mark left behind.

When a coworker gives you a mischievous grin and asks if there’s a new man in your life at the sight of a purplish bruise against your throat, that is when you decide that a collar may actually be nice. Weave your fingers between leather and skin and give König a sharp tug when he gets too rowdy, maybe that would teach him. Spray bottles and warnings spoken through giggles just aren’t enough.

You find one that you think might fit at a shop specializing in hybrid needs. It’s thick and well-made, a black leather hold to match that big scary demeanor that he tries his best to uphold. The cutesy silver bell attached to it is just a bonus. At least you would hear him coming the next time he insisted on peppering you in kisses with his tail a blur behind him.

He greets you at the door as always, unlocks it for you and pulls it open before you ever even make it to the top of the landing. It’s cute how giddy he seems each day when you return, how he doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to you with his hands at his sides, his own silent request for a hug or some form of affection whilst staring down at you and mumbling a “hallo” like the most awkward gentleman in the entire world.

“I got you a present,” you excitedly tell him instead of blessing him with your usual embrace, lifting up the little gift bag with a smile.

When the collar is retrieved from the bag by a massive hand, König does not mirror your enthusiasm. Any light in the placid blue of his eyes seems to extinguish, smothered and fizzled out to pave way for a look of the purest disdain. He rolls the leather between both palms, only then regarding you with as a heavy sigh stirs up from his chest to whistle past the open mouth beneath the hood.

Maybe he would have preferred something with spikes. Something heavy and intimidating with a tag that read “FUCK YOU” in red, painted letters.

“I don’t wear collars,” he finally says, flatly.

Or maybe a muzzle would have been best…

“You do now, big guy,” you challenge with an airy laugh, slipping past him to cross into your home. Tidy as ever, he’s been working today it seemed. The bulb in the living room has been replaced, a few pieces of furniture rearranged. It all just looks… cozy. More habitable now that someone else lives here too.

König follows you inside with his head lowered and tail pushed between his thighs. The collar rests in one hand, fingers curled over it so tightly it almost seemed he wished the damned thing to dissipate into dust.

“Nein. I won’t wear it.” The door is locked behind him. It’s the first time he’s refused you anything. Even cleaning up around the kitchen wasn’t met with a rejection. It’s odd, almost uncharacteristic for him.

“I just thought…” You would want to be mine. Properly. With a nice symbol of it right around his neck, with a sturdy leash to lead him by, with…

Any thought in your head puffs into a plume of smoke back there behind your eyes when you feel two hands grasp at your shoulders, push you back towards the wall to hold you there. Hugging, lifting, cuddling up against, even licking… those things were commonplace. This was foreign and surprisingly rough; there’s no give to his hold, no room to even try to move away as his head lowers to stare you straight in the eyes.

“I killed my last handler.”

“Did you…?”

“Ja.”

That confession should have sent icy dread to the pit of your stomach, should have spurred you to claw and kick and bite. Surely the shelter would have known, could have warned you too. That would have spared you from looking like a terrified little rabbit now, yet a part of you knew it wouldn’t have changed a thing. König sort of… belonged here, as if written in some silly reading of the stars.

His ears flatten against his skull, large hands trembling where they hold you in place. The dam begins to crack as his eyes grow glassy, gaze far away in a concoction of pain and contemplation. He stares through you, not at, reliving something you dared not ask for an explanation for. The whys and hows die on your tongue.

And there’s nothing scary about him anymore.

There’s only a wounded soldier here.

A good boy.

Your hands rise to flip up the hood, rest it over the top of his head to cup his jaw in your palms, stroking over his cheeks with both thumbs to soothe and comfort. His unwinding comes immediate, hands slipping down to your lower back to pull you in closer.

You don’t apologize and neither does he. Everything just falls back into a comfortable lull, some fuzzy droning from both sides as you wish one another good night. He walks you to your bedroom door, the very best he can do to prove that he’s not some mutt with froth coming from his jaw. You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from encouraging that he sleep next to you.

“You’re a good boy, you know that?,” you tell him as you lean against the door in preparation to push it closed. “The very best there is.”

He doesn’t respond, but the tail behind him wags at a frantic pace from those words alone.

The following morning is different.

There’s food on the table and coffee already brewing by the time you cross from your room into the kitchen. The air bears the scent of sandalwood and geranium, a forgotten candle sat burning on the countertop. You eat your breakfast of too-sweet pancakes and prep your coffee to go all while the shower runs from somewhere down the hallway.

He usually waits, tells you goodbye before you’re off to work, bites at your neck and asks which will be better: a movie after dinner or some fresh air. Instead, there’s a note attached to the door. Something simple and mischievous, a scribbled, lopsided heart and some phrase in German written with handwriting so sloppy that there was no hope of your still sleep-addled mind translating it.

You chalk it up to him being fully adjusted in this new space, let him go about his business while you go about yours.

It would be a walk tonight.

Arriving home twists what is simply different into the realm of bizarre. No hugging by the door, it sits closed and untouched since you left this morning. You inhale something heavy, trepidation or maybe a bit of yearning there, while you fumble with your key in the lock. A click, a push, and then everything just changes. There’s no crashing and burning, only a very firm and insistent buzzing that rises to your chest, because the sight inside is just…

König.

Your König.

The hood has been discarded and set aside on the polished wood of a nearby table, the little bell collar sits right along his throat. It jingles when his ears perk and his tail begins that gentle sway, swishing with every step that you take into the apartment, rampant and unyielding when the sparkles in your eyes cluster like the tiniest, most insignificant stars.

No apologies, but this was something better.

“Gut?,” he asks you, kneels before you with the cutest stare that you’ve ever seen on a man. Constellations sit there waiting to be mapped, and your giant puppy waits for just a little praise.

You stroke his ears first, then dip your head to press a kiss to his cheek.

“The best boy,” you tell him.

“I have a present for you too.”

No protest comes when he herds you out of the door, still in your stiff uniform with your hair a mess. The sun begins its setting out on the horizon, bathing the world in purple and gold. Trees with spring blossoms and wildflowers all abloom tinge the air in something sweet. It’s not your usual trail, and König doesn’t walk at your side this time, only ahead. You watch him fondly as he grazes his fingertips against the blooms hanging from branches just overhead, how he shies away from the curious nesting birds in bushes as to not startle them.

It isn’t the usual trail, but he walks it with confidence. There are no people out so late in the day, and apart from the occasional quip between the both of you, the setting only bears the sound of the chiming of his bell and a few night birds beginning to call. Peace morphs to something greater when the sun tucks itself away and sets the stage for a bright, waning moon. There’s a small clearing, a meadow cut straight through by the dirt path you walk, and only then are you pulled aside.

“Here,” he huffs against your chest when your back meets soft grass and a hazy, spring sky is painted out above you.

Maybe you’re not the best with men, but there have been signs.

So many in abundance that the pitiful squeak that leaves you when his nose finds its way up your skirt is only an embarrassment. König must have found it charming, reaches for both of your hands as he laps at your sex through the thin lace of your panties until your body grows tense and your nails leave little crescents on the backs of his hands.

The words don’t come, they don’t have to when he speaks them for you, little whispers and coos into your hair when any barrier between you is discarded with the descent of a zipper and the sound of tearing lace. There’s an outpouring of thanks in the form of a tiny, fragile, “I missed you.”

The night birds calling washes out each sound that escapes from either of you then, only outdone by the symphony of impact when König loses himself entirely to you. Limbs curling around narrow hips and a broad back, pools of blue so shimmery and pretty they outdo even the moon hanging above locked onto you. He doesn’t look away even as you try to bury your face into the width of his shoulder, only then guides you back down with a gentle hand and a muffled, needywhine.

“Good boy,” comes as a mere peep when he fully sheaths himself and laps at the corner of your mouth as you speak. The praise only causes him to still, pries the words from his panting mouth and reduces them to a series of pleasured, stuttering groans.

“What did the note say?,” you ask him in the silence that comes comfortable once the act is done, nestled into a pair of strong arms with a cheek pressed against an expanse of chest.

“Oh.” König laughs breathily, coming down from the height of both love and need.

“That you found home?,” you ask when he pets at your hair, twirls strands between his fingertips. “Because I think that I may have, too…”

“Something like that.” He shrugs, loosens his grip around your body for a mere second before pulling you in closer, tighter to him, as if letting go would end the world entirely. “Heaven.”

#könig x reader #konig x reader

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