#Estate Gold Necklaces | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xarlenewithanx · 7 months

Text

Pearl Necklace

Summary: His hunger is truly difficult to be satisfied. He just couldn’t keep it in him.

Tags: use of pet names, semi-public(?) sex, fluff,

a/n: pt 2 of “Consummation of the Marriage” wherein it’s day 2 of the honeymoon between you and Gojo ❤. not proofread and unedited.

note to self: i need to practice writing more sex scenes. this is the first time writing where the girl is on top, so please forgive me if i made some mistakes.

Simply because you already spent a night with your husband does not mean your honeymoon is over, and definitely because you’re still on your honeymoon does not mean your husband could simply abandon his duties. He is still the Head, after all.

After you had spent some time together in the town nearby, feeding each other sweet treats, having your portraits painted, walking with your hands intertwined in the garden, and playing games with each other, a servant already greeted you the moment you entered the door.

“My lord, my lady,” the servant bowed. She handed you an invitation.

“This was sent from one of the families.” The servant bowed to you again and left.

Satoru opened the letter to see an invitation, inviting the both of you to a ball hosted by a close family friend. It was mandatory, of course. He looks at you and looks at the invitation again. He sighed in disappointment as he thought he could have you all to himself again.

“Ugh— do we have to do this?” He asks.

You chuckle in response.

“Well, it did say it was mandatory does it not?”

He sighed again. He pulled you closer to him.

“But—”

You place your index finger between his lips.

“We must prepare, we don’t want to be late,”

The servants had assisted you as you prepared for the event. Your dress was floor-length, with a square neck design, and matching gloves.

As the servants were helping you with your hair, your husband entered your dressing room with his outfit ready.

The servants took notice and quickly left the room, leaving only both of you alone. He came up behind you and you saw him moving in the mirror’s reflection. His affectionate gaze can be seen through the dark lenses of his glasses.

With him is a necklace that he puts on your neck. It was a pearl necklace, with a “G” pendant in gold, courtesy of his last name’s initial. After clasping the two ends of the necklace, you touched the pendant, him still looking at you through the reflection.

“You look stunning in gold,” he stated before lowering his head to kiss your clavicle.

As you walk through the hallway of the venue, all eyes are on you. Despite being slightly late, you still manage to make an impression on the crowd.

The night was magnificent. You had made new acquaintances with the ladies, and you were enjoying the night dancing with Satoru.

As you were drinking at the event, Satoru came up to you, requesting a walk in the garden. You agreed, of course. How could you reject him?

You both talked about how this honeymoon made you closer as a couple. He talked about how you used to always get lost when you first settled in his estate. You talked about how he is always clinging to you when you sleep together.

As you continued your walks, he stopped to look at you.

“I still remember the time I heard you beg your mother to accept this engagement as our fathers talked about marriage. We were only 16 at the time.”

You froze. How could he remember such a moment?

“I-I did not!” You lied.

He laughed at your response.

“Oh yeah? Then why do I remember what you said?” He cleared his throat.

“Mother! That young man with blue eyes was truly handsome! Please make Father agree to the proposal!” he said, using his best impression.

Your face was red as a tomato. You quickly turned around him and covered your face with your fan, avoiding eye contact with him.

He finds it cute when you blush and try to hide from him. His gaze then went down to your chest. Seeing the pendant bounce on your chest as you breathed triggered something in him.

“Shall we go somewhere more private?” He requests.

You look up at him, still breathing heavily out of embarrassment.

“Please do,” You replied.

He held your hand and took you to a place in the garden that you didn’t even realize was there.

He placed you behind a wall, standing up. His warm, heavy breathing was evident.

He removed your gloves and kissed the back of your hand, trailing up to your forearm, before he kissed you on the lips.

His hand was cupping your cheeks as you kissed him, while the other trailed down to find your thigh.

He lifted your thigh and placed it beside his waist as he continued to kiss you passionately.

“I really want to fuck you right now,” he groaned, knowing he wouldn’t want to risk it.

“Dear, can’t you wait just a little longer?” You cup his cheeks as you ask.

He gave you a pouting face, hoping you would leave with him immediately.

“You really have no self-control, do you?” You smiled. “Just wait… I promise it’ll be worth it,”

He sighed in disappointment. He let go of your thigh and returned your glove before you headed back to the event.

Before you entered the hall, he whispered in your ear, “I really do hope it’s worth waiting,”

/After the event/

Your loud moans echoed through the walls of the empty house as he sucked on your nipples while using his free hand to finger your tight cunt.

“Toru…”

Your legs were already shaking rapidly out of pleasure, but it seemed he didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

“Fuck… Such a sight to behold.” He stated before continuing to suck your nipple.

You were losing your balance, but he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Your words are unrecognizable the longer he gave you immense pleasure.

After thrusting his fingers in and out of you for what felt like hours, he finally removed his fingers, revealing wrinkles.

He removed his mouth from your boobs and he places his fingers into your mouth. You suck on his fingers as he pushed them even deeper.

“You taste good right?” he teased.

You, unable to say anything, just nodded in response.

He removed his fingers from your mouth and lay on the bed. You undid his belt and pulled down his pants, revealing a large bulge on his underwear. As you quickly pull down the waistband, his large cock sprang up, leaking pre-cum.

You breathed heavily out of anxiousness.

“You can do it,” he cooed.

You went on top of him, slowly lowering down your body. You feel his tip on your entrance. You let out a moan as you sank deeper below.

“F-fuck!” Satoru groaned as he held your waist.

You slowly moved on top of him, trying to get used to this. Your boobs begin bouncing as you moved faster, along with that necklace he gave you.

The feeling was so good that you couldn’t stop moaning his name.

“Sato-ru! Ahh~,”

“Just like that princess… just like that,” he murmured.

“God you’re taking me so well,”

He begins moving his hips to match your movements. He looked at you filled with lust and an insatiable hunger.

“You really do look stunning in gold,” he commented on the bouncing necklace.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk smut #smut fanfiction #gojo smut #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #xarlenie writes #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #fanfics #fanfiction #fandoms #x reader fanfics

126 notes · View notes

seancekitsch · 4 months

Text

Cobweb Summer: A Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader fic

Aemond has liked you since he met you, so much so that your room in the Targaryen summer estate has an adjoining bathroom to him. He supports your indie Perfume and Cologne brand and makes sure you get invites to every red carpet event his family can pulls strings with. Aemond wants nothing more than to give you his mother's ring one day. the only problem? You've been in a PR stunt of a relationship with his older brother for the past two years, and you've just caused a public scandal. aegon x reader, aemond x reader

A/N, Warnings, etc: this came to me in a dream but im only gonna continue if like, people like this lol. drinking, smoking, toxic relationships, cheating, tmz is its own warning, this'll get explicit later

Aemond swipes up on the app for twitter, sick of all of the judgement and commentary he sees, and most of all, pictures of you. It’s not you that he minds, it’s the fact that in said pictures you’re wrapped around Aegon and smiling and showing off diamonds he draped you in accompanied by vicious rumors of infidelity and gold digging. It’s just as you said would happen, and he contemplates venmoing you a courtesy five to accept your inevitable ‘I told you so’ rant later tonight.

BOSS BABE AND OLD MONEY: RECIPE FOR DISASTER? (Link: popcrave)

Of course Y/n would try to disgrace the Targaryens, she was a STARFUCKER at the end of the day.

… tarnishing the Targaryen name…

Countless other tweets using words to describe you that make Aemond want to commit some terroristic crime. No one should speak about you like that, even if you called it ahead of time.

It’s almost exactly what you said they’d say when he found you on the balcony Saturday morning.

You looked beautiful, you always do, but this time in a perfectly disheveled way. You’re barefoot on the balcony of your bedroom, make up smeared, hair wild, your Vivienne Westwood dress from last night bunched up and wrinkled, your collar of necklaces askew and more than a few had turned so the clasps were resting along your throat. You were smoking one of his cigarettes, staring down below.

“Rough morning?” Aemond remembers asking, and now feels stupid for even saying anything. It wasn’t like you to look anything other than put together. He’d come to your room that morning to find it empty, which was not unusual, ready to flop himself on your bed and smoke and chat shit before breakfast like he was doing every morning this summer.

You looked at him, eyes red and rimmed with unshed tears, and something in Aemond broke. He’d seen you angry, seen you throw glasses and screech and threaten to stab his brother with your Louboutins. He’d held you in a way a boyfriend’s brother probably shouldn’t while you, hungover, did a social media wipe to purge Aegon’s reputation of the night before.

“Wanna watch the beans dry with me?” you asked. What the fuck? Aemond, puzzled, looked down below the balcony, and sure enough there were baked beans dumped onto the hood of Aegon’s white Range Rover.

“Why beans?” Aemond asked, knowing it was probably deserved.

“Lysa informed me that once they dry you have to get the entire paint job redone,” you say, “But it’s been like two hours and they still look wet.”

“Hmm,” Aemond couldn’t think of something to say. He had no doubt Aegon deserved whatever got his car covered in beans. Aegon was always doing something.

“Lysa also informed me that she found Aeg this morning in bed with Baela’s plus one,” you rolled your eyes, and Aemond noticed how pretty your make up from last night looked, even if smeared.

Last night had been your birthday celebration, a bacchanal of a fancy dress party on the grounds of the Targaryen summer estate, a sprawling castle with a lake. You’d picked fairy tales as a theme, everyone in corsets and embellished Rococo era frocks and wings and suits of armor. You’d blown out the candles with your supposedly loving boyfriend and took pictures for the press and everything looked perfect. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Aegon to sleep separately, in fact, it was so common Alicent made sure you had your own room in both the regular house and the summer estate, which Aemond was sure you had to be thankful for.

Apparently despite the party, all was not well, which was no surprise when it came to Aegon doing his part. Aegon had a habit of pulling these kinds of stunts, but never so publicly disrespectful as to let you and the maids find out. You were fine with indiscretions, as you had told Aemond once, but not with humiliation or disrespect. He could have someone’s on the side of this sham of a public relations stunt, as long as he didn’t make you look like a fool. You hadn’t had yours, whether it be from actual affection or just laziness, Aemond didn’t know. Which he figured was odd, as he thought he knew you well. You were his friend first before all of this mess, as it was.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, and he remembers how you scoffed at him.

“Why? It’s not like you would fuck someone at my birthday party,” you ashed your cigarette dangerously close to his hand where it rested on the stone railing.

It was unsurprising when Aemond hit his older brother in front of the guests after breakfast.

In the aftermath of the weekend, all of the revelers have left, and Aegon in his ruined Range Rover having gone back to his penthouse in King’s Landing again to pretend to work from home for the firm. It’s not that Aemond hates his brother, he as quite a bit of love for him, but Aemond lost any desire to go clubbing or on a boys weekend with him once this arrangement between you and he began, and his temper has been more than erratic.

Aemond knows you’re probably reading all of this, probably distracting yourself from work and making yourself sick. He pushes himself off the couch in the main parlor and takes himself through the seemingly endless corridors, through his bedroom, through your shared bathroom, and into your bedroom. He only needs to look up, to the little lofted study Alicent had contractors build for you; Alicent has quite the affection for you, most likely because of your importance to at least two of her children, and because the two of you gossip like fiends about your shared favorite authors.

“I told you so,” you say, not even bothering to look away from your macbook, absolute venom in your tone.

“What would you have me do? Kill my brother? Kill Isla?” He asks, quickly climbing the little spiral staircase with his long legs, “You say the word, I’ll do anything for my oldest friend.”

You don’t make any comment about how realistically you’re the only friend he has that he isn’t related to.

“Who’s Isla?” You ask, only now looking at him.

“She’s…”

“Oh,” you realize, “Never say that name again.”

Aemond grimaces.

“C’mon,” he motions, urging you up from where you sit cross legged on your chair. You stay put, turning back to your phone. You unlock it and pull up your messages, then thrusting your phone into his hand.

It’s a thread of texts between you and his brother.

Aegon’s Number: TMZ will back off if I give you my mother’s ring, is that what you want?

Your Number: That ring is Helaena’s. I want to break up.

Aegon’s Number: Helaena gets MY family’s ring. I’ll give you mother’s family ring. It will look nice in your perfume ads.

Your Number: Charming, really Aeg. I told you not to humiliate me and you could not even do that. This arrangement is over, I’ll say it was amicable.

Aegon’s Number: What will the tabloids say about you and your little start up when we break up but you’re still deeply enmeshed in my family? Don’t forget that reputation matters to you.

Your Number: Don’t forget I am Aemond’s friend first, you are a business partnership.

Aegon’s Number: I love you too!

Aemond hums, scowling as he hands your phone back to you. He despises his grandfather and father for a moment, for putting you through this.

Had he known that bringing you home for his birthday after meeting at a professional development course would mean you being subjected to Aegon for two years now, he would have never brought you.

“Let me get you out of here,” Aemond offers, hoping a dip in the lake or a game of croquet will bring you some joy.

“Can’t,” you sigh, “I’m doing damage control.”

You point to the screen, a bunch of analytics pulled up and at least thirty tabs open.

“Can I keep you company then?” Aemond asks. You shrug noncommittally, and turn back to your laptop.

Aemond gathers a bunch of pillows, and lays on his stomach amidst them on the floor. Silence settles peacefully between the two of you, and it’s genuinely nice.

Aemonds phone vibrates, and reluctantly, he reaches for it.

Reading the notification, he realizes this is probably the last moment you and his family will have peace for quite a while.

He decides against showing you his phone.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader

70 notes · View notes

mochaintherain · 11 months

Text

Pleonexia

Summary: Cemented as a false God, the title of "The Creator" warranted a certain Fatui Harbinger to impose his greed upon you.

Word Count: 1.3k

CW: SAGAU, implied violence, implied cultish themes, the fatui comes as it's own warning, slight jealousy?

A/N: formatted on mobile </3 A little drabble I had lying around (*´▽｀*) I really like SAGAU but only a specific flavor of it RAUGHH I also have so,,, many ideas for other fics. Yippee for summer!!! (delusional)

Zapolyarny Palace was destitute of warmth.

The room the Tsaritsa had generously provided on account of your descending far outgrew your meager body; the walls stretched too far, any insulation it may have mustered in the heart of a blizzard out your reach, and the chandeliers hung from the ceiling too high to provide any ample light, encompassing you in darkness. The only reprieve within your residence laid a stately hearth. The fire roared, breaking the monotonous cold hues of the bedroom. Its heat blanketed your face in a sweet caress. Soft whispers of crackled wood lulled you to slumber.

Temptation gnawed at your being. You wanted to rest.

But something you quickly learned about the palace was its capacity for people.

For Fatui.

And they wanted anything but your comfort.

The Regrator hummed, cold fingers trailing the bare of your neck, reveling in your shudders as he clicked the gold necklace onto your figure. Illustrious gemstones and the smoothest links of gold culminated to create art - now adorned by you. It could have been beautiful, had it not been tainted by avarice. Had it not been tainted by his prayer.

"Your Grace, do you like it?"

That moniker stirred ill within the depths of your stomach. When would be the day they realized they deluded themselves into a lie? When would be the day they killed you for being something you never claimed you were?

As intriguing as the Fatui were on one side of the screen, they were sinister zealots on the other. They despised the Gods so much their hatred festered piousness--and they paraded you like a doll around the estate, an object to collect worship and donate it to rising influence. You were another gnosis, another piece to their revolution.

The match to inevitably burn away the Old World.

"Your Grace," the Regrator repeated, the edge on each syllable chiding, "is this not up to your tastes? ...Not refined enough?"

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze. No semblance of warmth pierced his icy veil. For all the devoutness the Harbingers touted, their theatrics fell short. Ugly, false fidelity bled through their altruistic ministrations.

How you wished to curl up next to the fireplace instead of having to cling onto your robes.

"No...no, it's, ah, beautiful. Thank you," you mumbled, forcing a smile onto your face.

"Of course. Someone of your status—" he grit that phrase out from his throat, you swore it—"deserves only to be lavished in the finest treasures Teyvat has to offer! Wouldn't you agree?"

When they killed you, would he scatter his riches upon your corpse? Or maybe Pantalone would bury you with all the accessories he gifted you--

Perhaps they’d continue the facade, setting your still heart upon the altar dedicated to the Creator. The name you unwittingly stole from its rightful place.

He took your long, drawn, silence as acquiscence. "It's quite alright if you're shy. I fully understand, as your acolyte, but really, you must be more open about you and your capabilities--humbleness goes hand in hand with honesty, after all! Surely that's nothing to hide, hm?"

His hands found their way to your own, and he traced the shape of a diamond on your palm.

"What did you call them again? What was it...oh, primogems?" From your visage, the corners of his lips curled. "Your Grace, won't you show me your divinity? For all my offerings, a glimpse wouldn't hurt."

It's only fair.

"I'm...truly grateful for everything the Fatui, and especially you, have provided," you started slowly, eyes falling to his rings, unable to harbor the weight of his scrutiny any longer, "but...I'm sorry. I can't just use them whenever I wish—" the words died on your tongue as his grip tightened, leaving behind desiccated sputters.

"And why is that?"

"I'm—I'm sorry—"

"Am I not worthy?" Pantalone laughed a little, devoid of joy, "have I not given you enough, Your Grace? What more can I give? I've already built myself up from nothing, despite the Gods' negligence—must I give that up too, to bask in Your warmth?"

You winced, trying to pull away. Yet he held firm, as if it wasn't wrists he was holding, but the bags of mora he hoarded.

"That's not—"

"I really am not asking for much, Your Grace. You've shown the Balladeer—even the Doctor—your powers. So why not me? Dottore and I are close partners, and if you trust him, I can assure you, you can have complete and utter faith in me, just as I do you."

"I...Okay. But only one summon," you conceded, the crystalline shards manifesting into your hands.

As if he hadn't been intimidating you moments prior, Pantalone stared in awe, clasping his hands together and humming.

"Oh! You're too kind, Your Grace!"

"Please, just call me by my name," you whispered, before cupping the primos together into an Intertwined Fate.

"How beautiful," he gasped, "may I?"

Reluctantly, you handed it to him. The size of his figure dwarfed the small orb, brimming with power. A pink and blue glow breathed life into his otherwise dull fur coat.

"How do you use…this?” Pantalone’s brows furrowed together, raising it up to the light as if to get a better view. “It’s quite…tiny.”

"Well, I'm not sure how it fully works in Teyvat—but you wish for something and hope to get it."

"Hm? So you leave it up to chance?"

"Yes, in a way..."

"How pitiful," he whispered, before his voice dropped an octave, "you must have more power than that. You’re a God.”

“I’ve already told you all…” you stopped in your tracks, images of corpses scattered across Dottore’s lab. You were almost a test subject, “godhood” shielding you from the vivisection table by a narrow margin. If they learned the truth…

“I…am not a god in my home world,” you stammered, picking words haphazardly from the floor of your mind, “I’m still getting used to Teyvat, so…”

He sighed, squeezing your shoulder. “I see. Well, demonstrate how it works.” The reassuring gesture only spurred your unease.

With a slight nod, you pondered what to wish for.

“…Thrilling Tales,” you declared, the fate sizzling with luminescence before shooting up into the sky.

Pantalone’s mouth fell agape as a bright, blue, light enveloped your hands, swirled together, then dissipated, revealing the weapon. Another wish granted. More primos depleted, with no way to earn them back.

“A book; Is it a catalyst?” He took the tomb from your grasp, skimming its contents. “From what I can tell, not a very good one.” A frown slowly painted over his countenance. “Are you playing games with me, Your Grace?”

“W-whatever do you mean, Pantalone?” Your voice faltered as he took a step towards you. Gripping your face just hard enough for his rings to chafe and dig into your cheeks, he tilted your chin up.

“When you were with Dottore, you summoned a brilliant sword that he remarked, “wasn’t from this world”. And, with me, you summon this…” He pinched the book by its cover, letting the pages sway limply below. “Fairy tale?”

“Well—! The Doctor scared me—I, I am much more comfortable with you.” Though not necessarily a lie, it wasn’t a truth either. Of all the people you’d interacted with so far, mainly the harbingers—only the harbingers, when you thought about it—Pantalone, compared to the Doctor, was much less scary.

Eyes widening, the grip on your face went slack, morphing into a soft caress of your cheek. You shuddered again.

He smiled, returning to that cheery demeanor.

“Well, if that is the case, I’m glad, and honored, Your Grace.”

You nodded, every muscle in your body taut and strangled by your lies.

“Of course.”

#self aware genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin impact sagau #pantalone x reader #religious themes #sagau #sagau pantalone #why do i keep writing sagau #AND ITS NOT EVEN SCARAMOUCHE?#im not even that into pantalone tbh.#maybe its bc whenever i try to write scarapookie #i end up with far too many words and far too little time

252 notes · View notes

foxytagles · 3 months

Text

The Egyptian Goddess Isis✨

known as the mother of all gods, she represents love, healing, fertility and magic. Foxy Tangles custom each is one of a kind made with vintage chains and various gems. prices include a fine chain and basic gem, may go up depending on customization. I would be happy to make one for you, too!

Go find me on IG @foxytangles and say hi! Along with available pieces you’ll find creative styling inspiration. I do also a weekly live show - every Thursday at 8pm EST 💜

#jewelry #estate jewelry #neckstack #necklaces #solid gold #antique jewelry #jotd

0 notes

sinkingteethinwhitenoise · 4 months

Text

Carpe Noctem - Nick Folio

Pairing: Nick Folio x Celia (fem!OC)

Warnings: SMUT/NSFW 18+ ONLY, oral (fem!receiving), unprotected p in v, kissing, masks, gloves

Word Count: 3k

Carpe Noctem (Latin) ~ Seize the night; Enjoy the pleasures of the night

Celia’s heels clicked on the concrete as she walked up the packed driveway. Her golden hair flowed with the gentle, frigid breeze. A shiver went down her spine. She would blame it on the cold weather, but she knew that every time she approached the dark, castle-like mansion, she would get an eerie feeling. For a moment she thought she should have dressed warmer, feeling much too chilly in her formal wear: a floor length red dress with a high slit, a straight neckline and thin straps. The diamond necklace around her neck and the skinny chain bracket around her wrist felt like ice against her skin. However, she knew that due to the sheer amount of party goers that were bound to be inside would soon have her sweating beneath her red, bejeweled half mask. As she approached the front porch, she saw long, curly black hair being illuminated by the warm, dim light from the sconces on either side of the glossy black front door. A smile crept up onto her glossy red lips as she approached. “Hey Phoebe.”

Phoebe was Celia’s best friend since grade school. And her parents were loaded. Each year they held a masquerade ball on New Year’s Eve in their impressive gothic mansion. Each year, since Celia has been old enough, she attended. And each year the party always seemed to be more extravagant than the last. A happy squeal left Phoebe’s closed lips as she turned and hugged Celia. “Thank God, you finally made it!” She beamed. Celia returned the hug and once they pulled away from each other, Phoebe linked their arms. “Come on! I’ve been dying for a drink.”

The only word that could describe the inside of the mansion was ornate. The walls were painted black. Fine art lined the walls, each piece sat perfectly inside of gold antique frames. Gold sconces lined the walls between every other painting. Each seat was draped in dark red velvet. An elaborate, crystal chandelier hung from the middle of the tall ceiling, sparkling and filling the room with dim, warm light. It was a vampire’s dream estate.

Celia’s hazel eyes scanned the room as Phoebe led her through crowds of people and to the bar. Men and women were dressed to the nines, all in their best suits and dresses, all in masks. Most wore half masks like herself, others opted for full masks. She knew most of the people in attendance, but she couldn’t pick anyone out of the crowd quite yet, not with the quick rushed glances she was able to take while being dragged to the bar. They finally stopped walking and Phoebe grabbed two crystal champagne flutes, her gloved hand carefully handing one to Celia.

She brought the crystal to her lips as she scanned the room once more. Some guests were seated, listening to a story told by a tall man in a red suit, hanging onto his every word. Others were standing, chatting in small groups throughout the room. There were couples dancing to a beautiful Waltz, their steps perfectly in sync. And-

There was someone staring at her.

From across the room she met a set of deep brown eyes behind an all black half mask, it seemed to be textured but from this distance she couldn’t make out the details of it. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. He wore a black dress shirt underneath, no tie in sight, as well as a shiny pair of black loafers. His hands were hidden inside of black leather gloves. His hair was neatly slicked back. The mask was small enough to notice that he had a square jaw and full lips. It was also small enough for her to know that she had never seen this man before. She reached for Phoebe, eyes still locked with the mysterious man’s. “Hey, who’s that?” She questioned.

By the time Phoebe looked where Celia was looking, the man had turned his head. They both stared for a moment, Phoebe tilting her head before shrugging. “Not sure,” she hummed, turning back to look at Celia. “Maybe someone’s plus one? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before.”

“And you’re not concerned about that?” Celia looked at her, confused expression hidden by her mask.

Phoebe shrugged, “Not really. My parents invite more and more people every year.” Then she was waving at someone and rushing off in their direction. She must’ve recognized them even with their mask on. And vice versa. Quickly, Celia downed the rest of her champagne and grabbed a new glass. Then she followed after Phoebe. Odds were that she knew the person too.

After about an hour of mingling, Celia’s feet were begging her to sit down. She walked around until she found an empty seat and sat down, crossing her legs. She ran her hands across the crushed red velvet she was seated on; it was soft under her fingers. Her mind drifted to the mysterious man that was staring at her earlier. She wondered how he looked under that mask. She wondered if he was actually looking at her. He couldn’t have been. Right? There were so many people around; he could’ve been staring at any one of them. Then why did it feel like they made eye contact?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice that came from right next to her. “Is this seat taken?”

She looked over to the source of the voice, a man standing beside the chair next to her. Her eyes drifted to his masked face and she realized that it was him. Now that he was closer, she noticed that the texture to his mask were little gears. It reminded her of steampunk.

He stared at her expectantly. She shook her head and motioned at the seat with her hand. A small, closed mouth grin spread across his face as he sat down, not taking his eyes off of her. She felt somewhat…small under his gaze, but somehow…not uncomfortable.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” the man asked.

Celia nodded as she turned to face him completely. “I am. Are you?”

The man nodded. “It’s a nice party,” he murmured. “How come you’re over here by yourself?”

“Oh, I’ve been mingling for the last hour and my feet needed a break,” she said, giving him a soft smile.

“Yeah? You know a lot of people here?”

“I do,” she nodded. “I’ve been coming to these parties since I was 16.”

“How old are you now?”

“26.”

He broke out into a big goofy smile. “Me too,” he beamed. “This is my first time here. My friend invited me. But I lost him pretty much as soon as we walked through the door.”

“Lots of people, a big house, everyone in masks, it’s pretty easy to lose someone,” she said with a shrug. “So you only know one person here?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. Then he met her eyes. “Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll know two.”

She felt a blush creep onto her cheeks as she tried to suppress a giggle. “Maybe you won’t need luck.”

She watched as his eyes looked her up and down, “What’s your name?” he asked her.

She could’ve told him. She wanted to. But her desire to be mysterious for a little bit longer was overriding her desire to tell him. Instead of responding with her name, she just smirked at him. “Would you like to dance?”

His eyes got noticeably wider, clearly not expecting the question. “I don’t know how to Waltz.”

“I’ll show you, then.” She stood up and reached for his gloved hand. He gladly accepted.

Celia was facing him, she grabbed her right hand with her left. “Place this hand between my shoulder blades.” Once he did, she placed her left hand on his right shoulder. Then she grabbed his left hand with her right. “Now, just follow after me.” She began the steps with a swiftness. It took him a few minutes of nearly tripping over his own feet, but eventually, he got it well enough to where neither of them were in danger of falling. “There you go,” she grinned. “You’re a natural.”

“Thanks,” he said, grinning back with that goofy smile of his. “You never told me your name, by the way.”

She chuckled softly, “You know the whole point of a masquerade ball is to conceal your identity, right?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Of course. Right,” he nodded. After a silent moment he spoke again. “What if I tell you my name first?”

“Depends,” she hummed. “If your name starts with a ‘J’, not only am I not telling you my name, I’m walking away,” she joked.

He fully laughed at that. “Nick,” he said through laughter. “My name is Nick.”

She laughed along with him. “Oh thank goodness. Not a ‘J’ name,” she teased. “Nice to meet you Nick. I’m Celia.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he smiled, his laughter dying down.

“You can’t even see my whole face, Nick,” Celia giggled.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “And I don’t need to. You’re beautiful.”

“So, you don’t want to see my face is what I’m hearing?” she joked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Need and want are two different things,” he grinned. “I don’t need to see your entire face to know that you’re absolutely gorgeous. But, I do want to see your entire face at some point.”

She felt like her face was burning up. She was absolutely flustered. But she didn’t want to let that show. “Maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll see my face around midnight,” she shot him a wink. “But I want to see yours too.”

“What do I have to do to turn that maybe into a yes?”

She smirked, “Make my night, Nick.”

Several hours and glasses of champagne later, they’d learned a bit about each other. She learned that he loved to play drums, ride motorcycles, and fish, trout specifically. He’d grown up in the town over and pursued drumming right out of high school. He learned that she loved to dance, crochet, and read books, mysteries specifically. She worked as a dental hygienist at an office in town. They discovered that their senses of humor were similar. It seemed that there wasn’t a moment that they weren’t laughing at something the other said.

Maybe it was the liquid courage, or maybe it was just the fact that they were so drawn to each other. But Celia found herself leading Nick to a room upstairs, and he followed her more than willingly. Once they entered the room and locked the door, he had her backed up against the wall. He leaned in to kiss her, but she lifted her hand and pressed her pointer finger to his lips. “You can’t kiss my lips until midnight,” she whispered. “Nor can you take off my mask. Or your own. Those are my only conditions.”

“Anything you wish, Celia,” Nick whispered back. He tilted his head and pressed his full lips to her neck. She moved her hair and stretched her neck to give him better access. He kissed up and down the expanse of her neck until he placed a kiss upon her pulse point. A shuddering sigh escaped her parted lips. “Right there?” he murmured against the skin. The soft whimper that followed was all the answer he needed. He began to nip gently at the skin above her pulse point. The crown of her head softly thudded against the wall behind her, quiet whimpers left her mouth.

When he pulled away, the slightest hint of a mark was left. He groaned at the sight of it in the low light. He began to kiss down her chest until his lips hit the neckline of her dress. The next thing she knew, he was on his knees before her. He looked up at her through his mask, eyes wide, pupils blown. “May I taste you?”

She looked down at him, “Please.”

He smiled at her, not a smirk, a genuine smile. He didn’t seem smug about the situation. He seemed happy, grateful even. He placed his gloved hands on the back of her calves before slowly sliding them up her legs until they met her panties. He began to slide them down her legs, noticing as her breathing picked up. “Are you okay, honey?” he breathed, pausing his actions to look up into her eyes.

Her heart nearly burst at the action and sight before her. “Yeah,” she breathed, a small giggle prominent in her words. “Keep going, please.”

Nick leaned forward to press a soft kiss to the skin of her thigh that was exposed by the slit in her dress as he pulled her panties down the rest of the way. Red lace pooled at her ankles. He looked up at her once more. “Can you hold your dress up for me?”

Celia nodded, her hands grasping her dress and pulling it up to expose herself to him. She watched as he looked directly at her center. He licked his lips before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her clit. While there wasn’t much pressure to it, she found herself moaning anyway. This encouraged him to slide his tongue through her folds and back up to her clit, flatting his tongue with a groan. Her hands gripped the fabric of her dress harder, her knuckles turning white. He continued to lick her until he knees began to shake and his face was covered in her slick. “Nick,” she whimpered. “I’m so close.”

With those words, he pulled away from her. “Do you want to…?” He trailed off, as if shy to ask for sex, even though he just had his face buried in her pussy.

She nodded as she tried to catch her breath. “Please,” she whimpered. “I need you.” She let go of her dress, letting it fall to its normal length as she reached for his hand. He stood up and walked him to the bed in the middle of the room. She lay on the bed and he followed, hovering over her as her legs spread open for him. She heard the clink of his belt and the zipper of his pants. Then she felt the head of his warm cock tapping against her clit, drawing a mewl from her. He ran the head through her slick folds a few times before he began to push in, her back arching off the bed as he filled her.

Once she adjusted to the delicious stretch, she grinded her hips into his, urging him to move. He started off with slow, deep thrusts. Each thrust resulted in a breathy moan from Celia and a deep grunt from Nick. “Go faster,” she whined after a while. It felt great, but she needed more. Nick was happy to oblige, quickening the pace of his hips, slamming into her at a mind breaking speed. She had to force her moans down; force herself to be quiet.

Her walls began to pulse around him. Nick knew what that probably meant. He snaked his hand between their bodies and pressed his thumb to her clit, rubbing it in quick right circles. Celia’s back arched off the bed as she tried, and failed, to hold back a loud whine. “I-I’m close,” she whimpered for the second time of the night.

“Come for me,” Nick breathed. His thrusts were getting sloppy as he got closer himself. Shortly after his demand, she pulsed around him uncontrollably, bringing a hand to her mouth to suppress the uncontrollable moans escaping her. He managed to keep himself under control through her entire orgasm. “Where do you want it?” he asked frantically once she had ridden through her orgasm.

“Inside,” she breathed. “I’m on birth control.” That was all Nick needed to completely come undone. He buried himself deep inside of her as his cock twitched and unloaded all of his seed.

He slowly pulled out after his orgasm, causing them both to groan from the loss. He laid next to her for a moment, both of them catching their breath. After a minute, Celia stood, put her panties back on, and adjusted her dress. She walked over to the mirror that was in the room and fixed her hair as well. Nick stood and fixed his pants before walking up and hugging her from behind. “Did you enjoy yourself,” he whispered in her ear.

She turned to face him. “Of course I did,” she grinned. “Did you?”

“Absolutely.”

She couldn’t help but giggle. “Do you have the time?”

Nick pulled his phone from his pocket, “11:45.”

“Would you like to be my New Year’s kiss?” She asked, tilting her head.

Nick nodded, “I would love to be your New Year’s kiss.”

She grabbed his hand, “Come on, then.”

30 seconds until midnight, everyone in attendance stood downstairs with a glass of champagne, waiting excitedly for the ten second countdown. Celia stood with Nick, arms linked. She looked up at him. “How about we take our masks off when the countdown starts?”

Nick looked down at her with that amazing goofy smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

Before they knew it, the countdown was starting.

“10!”

They made eye contact.

“9!”

They pulled their masks off.

“8! 7!”

“You’re so beautiful,” Nick whispered.

“6! 5!”

“You’re so handsome,” Celia whispered back.

“4! 3!”

They stared at each other, eyes wide.

“2!”

They began to lean in.

“1! Happy New Year!”

Their lips met in a passionate kiss. Both of their masks dropped to the floor so they could hold each other’s faces as their lips moved perfectly in sync. So perfectly in sync that any bystander would have figured they’d kissed hundreds, even thousands, of times before. And they both knew at that moment that this wouldn’t be the end of them.

#bad omens #nick folio #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio fanfic #bad omens smut #nick folio smut #nick folio x oc #nick folio x fem!oc #sinkingteethinwhitenoise

63 notes · View notes

fairy-writes · 1 year

Text

Vampire!Viktor x Female!Reader 01

i’ve been having brain rot about vampire!viktor and a female!reader, and just—

this is now a series i’ve dubbed cryptid!viktor! here’s a little blurb about merman!viktor :) linked HERE

you first meet him when you go to explore a decrepit old mansion on the hill of your little village in the middle of the night. the year is 18th century something, and you hike your skirts up as you scale the tall wrought iron fence surrounding the estate. except as you climb the wall, you realize it’s basically rusted steel.

why was that? wasn’t steel more expensive than iron?

this was a bad idea, but you were always curious and liked old things. they made you sad. but in a good way.

the estate is just as drab and creepy up close as it was far away. but you are astounded by the detail. gargoyles and griffons positioned at the tops of the corners keep watch over the massive house, and their stone eyes seem to follow you as you approach the large front door.

the door is made of wood, and there is a large cast iron (again, you realize it’s steel) knocker in the shape of what looks like a demon with horns. is it a bad omen? you clutch your necklace tight in your fist as you reach for the door knocker and knock twice.

nothing.

the door is unlocked, and you have to put your entire body weight against it in order to open the beast of a door. inside is almost pitch black, and you hoist your bag that’s been strapped against your torso until now, and pull out a packet of matches. then feeling along the wall, you find a candelabra and use the match to light the dusty candles.

the room is illuminated by the warm glow, and you swear you see glowing golden eyes in the corner. but as you look closer, they simply disappear.

talk about spooky.

cobwebs hang from the chandelier, and the air is thick with dust, making you sneeze and almost blow your candles out. a breeze comes through the open door, and the flames flicker and go out.

suddenly you get a very, very bad feeling.

“who are you?” comes an accented voice, and you jump, whirling and feeling your skirts swish against your heeled boots as you look up to the top of the massive staircase.

the man is dressed immaculately in a cravat, a pristine white long-sleeved shirt with puffy sleeves, a wine-red vest, and slim trousers that hug his legs all the way down to his shined shoes. his hair is a dark chocolate brown, and his eyes are that glowing golden color.

the eyes from before.

“i did knock,” you say hastily, and he scoffs,

“i heard you. now who are you?” is all he says in return, and you spin on a heel, dropping the candelabra and sprinting for the door.

only for it to slam shut, leaving you beating against the wood.

“let me out!” you shriek and turn back to face the man. he’s descended the stairs now and is but a few paces away. somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize he’s beautiful. with porcelain skin and two beauty marks dotting his cheeks. his eyes aren’t exactly gold, but a pretty amber that seemingly glows gold with unnatural power.

“no, i don’t think i will. what is your name?” he says, and you swallow as he gets closer, stuttering out your name.

but there’s something on his face that you can’t quite define.

“what are you going to do to me?” you whisper, and he tilts his head,

“that i am not sure of yet. but seeing as you trespassed on my property, i think i’ll figure out something,” he says and reaches for your throat.

only to recoil with a cry of pain and clutching his steaming hand.

you look down to see your silver necklace in the shape of a cross steaming as well. you weren’t particularly religious, but it was given to you by your father on his deathbed, and you had promised never to take it off.

it looks like even now; he’s watching over you.

but then the dots connect, and everything makes sense.

“are you a vampire?” you ask, and he glares with bared teeth. the sharpened incisors are proof of your claim.

but instead of fear, you feel curious.

but you don’t get the chance to ask any more questions as he turns and disappears without another word. literally, one second, he’s there, and the next, he’s simply gone in a wisp of the wind. mysteriously, the door opens, and you are let out without any more trouble. you all but run to the steel gates but turn back at the last second.

and see the man in the window, watching you as you scurry away like a mouse running from a cat.

as soon as you get home, the sun begins to rise, and your mother descends on you like the worried parent she is.

“where were you?! i was worried sick!” she all but shouts, and you flinch at the noise. you had scarcely opened the door when she had been up from her chair and across the dirt floor to grasp your elbows, scanning you up and down for any injuries.

which save for a minor burn mark against your skin from the necklace; you are just covered in dirt and minor scratches from running through the brush surrounding the mansion.

“i’m fine mother, i just went on a walk to the mansion up on the hill,” you say and realize quickly it was a mistake.

her face morphs into one of terror and anger. her grip on your arms loosens, and she frantically holds your face in her calloused hands. they’re worn with years of washing laundry in lye. she was a servant in baron silco’s estate as a laundry maid. you were a seamstress and tailoress who made clothing for noblemen and women who traveled through baron silco’s land.

but your job was beside the point. your mother looked like she was about to pass out from fear.

“you know that a monster haunts the mansion! you mustn't go up there ever again! promise me!” she chastises, and you nod in a daze.

for some reason, you can’t get that man out of your head.

and realize why as you sew the clothing of a noblewoman named caitlyn kiramman.

he looked old and lonely and oh so sad.

you resolve to yourself that you are going to visit again and try not to get killed.

you manage to sneak out a week later when your mother is fast asleep. it’s always been just the two of you ever since your father died, so at least you don’t have to worry about siblings or grandparents like many of the other peasants in your village. the trek up to the mansion is shorter than you remember, the worn dirt leading the way as your eyes adjust in the bright moonlight.

again, the door is unlocked, and the windows are empty. you ease it open, wincing at the squealing hinges echoing into the night. if he didn’t know you were coming, he certainly did now.

he’s waiting for you at the top of the stairs. his eyes widen almost imperceptibly when he recognizes it’s you.

“what are you doing here? here to kill me?” he asks, and you stop in your tracks.

“what? no! i’m here… well… i’m here because you looked sad.” you say, trailing off at the end, realizing how ridiculous you sounded. your skirts are clenched in your fists, and your apron is rough against your fingertips.

“you’re here… because i looked… sad?” his tone is colored with shades of confusion and curiosity. but he didn’t seem angry, and that was good. so you nod,

“it sounds stupid i know—”

“it is stupid. leave now,” the man commands, and you freeze at the commanding tone in his voice. it booms through the large room, making you feel as small as a dust mite in his presence. he turns to ascend the rest of the stairs toward one of the mansion’s many corridors, and you panic. you didn’t want to come all this way for nothing.

“wait!” you cry and hurry up the steps after him, hiking your skirts up and scurrying up the stairs after the retreating man. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, if anything, he speeds up slightly. the halls are dark and filled with more cobwebs, but you find as you get closer to the heart of the mansion, they grow less prominent, and the torches are actually lit. the man shuts a door behind him, and you open it before he can lock it.

“i just want to talk!” you say, and he turns to look at you. before he can say anything, you get a good look around the room.

it’s lit by oil lamps and candelabras. papers are strewn about between two desks, and they’re also covered in various gears and gadgets. you spy a few handkerchiefs covered in grease in under a few papers. a bed is in the corner and neatly made blood-red bedsheets are spread over the mattress. it looks comfier than anything you have ever seen.

abruptly, you realize he’s started talking.

“—want you to leave,” he says curtly, and you bite your cheek.

“aren’t you lonely?” you ask quietly, and he freezes, his back to you.

you seize your chance and ask another question,

“what’s your name?” you ask, and he turns his head slightly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“it’s viktor.”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane x you #viktor arcane x y/n #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x you #arcane viktor x y/n #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane x reader #female reader #reader insert #arcane fanfic #fairy writes #cryptid!viktor

269 notes · View notes

bloodfin · 6 months

Text

hi yes hello having some thoughts about hands and rings and did you ever think about how 🤌🤌🤌 it is to watch someone play with the large collection of rings on their hands? how intimate it is to watch them take the rings off, one by one,,

raindrop drabble below

It was the anniversary of Rain's summoning, and Dew wanted to make the evening special. He spent all afternoon making Rain's favorite meal, and then ended up ordering it for delivery when he burnt half of it anyways. At least his not-too-sweet fudgey brownies came out well, if the noise Swiss made when he sampled one was any indication.

But Dew couldn't focus on his meal, couldn't focus on all the plans he had made for after dinner, with Rain looking like that. He had sauntered into the dining room in the single tightest black pants to have ever been made and a flowing white shirt with long, fancy sleeves. He had even dove deep into his jewelry collection, adorning his horns with a few rings, changing out his earrings, and adding a short pearl necklace.

But where Rain really went all out, as if the fine layer of mascara and high dusting of dark navy blush wasn't enough, were his hands. Every finger had at least one ring, his ouroboros ever present on his right index finger. Some were at midi-length, some stacked. All types of gold and silver, varying in intricacy and stones. In particular Dew's eyes were drawn to the blood red ruby that sat on Rain's left pinky, glinting in the candlelight.

He was salivating, and as good as dinner was, that wasn't why.

"You with me droplet?"

Rain's deep voice shook Dew out of his lustful haze, just long enough for him to snap his eyes to meet Rain's.

"Of course love," he smiled, eyes dropping back down to Rain's hands as he began to spin the ouroboros, slow and steady.

"Sure?" Rain smiled, head cocked dangerously to the side. "You seem a little distracted."

Dew flushed. "Maybe a little."

Rain hummed knowingly. He knew exactly what he was doing when he got dressed for this dinner, pulling out all the stops.

Dew sucked in a sharp breath when Rain reached across the table, studying his hands. He only wore a midi ring himself, preferring the jewelry that decorated his ears and the spade of his tail.

"So much real estate," Rain purred, studying Dew's long, skinny fingers. "We could always get you a few of your own."

Dew hummed, curling his fingers into Rain's, leaning down to kiss the back of his hand. He was pressing a line of kisses into Rain's knuckles when he snapped his eyes back up, Rain's words settling deep into his brain.

"Unless, of course, you'd rather wear one of mine."

Dew looked briefly down at Rain's hand, still clutched in his own, before dragging his heated gaze back up. His mouth was suddenly dry, his temperature slowly increasing.

"Please."

Rain smiled, pulling his hand from Dew's, examing the jewelry adorning his fingers. Dew couldn't help but stare, watching as Rain twisted each ring off of his nimble fingers, far too slow for his taste.

He chose to round the table, nuzzling into the side of Rain's neck so he could see better, listening carefully as Rain gave little details about a few pieces he wore.

"This was from you, shortly after I was summoned. It's too small now, which is why I wear it here."

He pulled off the midi ring on his right index finger and dropped it onto the tablecloth, the ouroboros below it remaining untouched.

"Mountain found this one," he explained, the dark silver twisted band joining the simple gold one on the table. Dew couldn't help but to press open mouthed kisses against Rain's neck and jaw, whining at each thunk on the table as another ring joined the ever growing pile.

"Now this one," Rain breathed, pulling the ruby off his pinky and turning it in the light, "is special. I had it engraved."

Dew squinted to see the small writing on the inside of the band, something no one but Rain and he would ever know about. His hands squeezed against the chair, the words good boy staring back at him. The ruby he'd never seen before, that so thrilled him, was meant for him all along.

He almost jumped out of his skin when Rain went to set it on the table with the rest.

"No," he whispered, reaching out to take it in his own fingers and slide it back onto Rain's. "Keep it on. Please?"

Rain hummed, turning his hand in the light.

"You're sure? The edges can be sharp, just like someone I happen to know."

Dew started nodding before repeating just how sure he was, pressing another kiss under Rain's ear.

"Wanna earn it, don't you," Rain rumbled, turning in his chair to stand. He took Dew's chin in his hand, feeling him swallow hard as his teal gaze bore into him. It would be a night of claiming, starting now. A renewal of every promise they ever made to each other, bound with a blood deep stone. Dew nodded his agreement, every plan to shove Rain up against their bedroom door slipping quickly from his mind, thanking Lucifer for the blessing that stood before him.

"Go ahead then, little one. Get on your knees."

#rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #raindrop #i wrote this on my phone and didn't proof it so if you see mistakes no you don't #the way rain's hands and rings have been in my brain non-stop is just unreal #the fixation is fixating

56 notes · View notes