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silkjade · 5 months

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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 ꒱ a/n: 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.

a/n2: 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 ♡

#— 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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adoreddestiny · 1 month

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ೃ⁀➷ WEARING HIS CLOTHING — rafayel, zayne, xavier x gn!reader

“c’mere it’s starting to rain harder,” rafayel says, huffing as he closes the door behind you. the scent of wind and rain stains your clothing as you look around his studio. he sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. his fingers soak up the raindrops before he turns to you.

though he stumbles a bit as he spots the white shirt you're wearing growing more and more sheer from the rainy weather. rafayel feels the tips of his ears and his cheeks burn before he tears his gaze away from you. "you're probably getting cold in that," he spits out, "wait here. i'll get you a change of clothes in the meantime."

you barely have time to reject his offer before he darts towards his room. he returns hastily with new shirt and a beige and red cardigan of his. any chance of your denial is shot down with his arms crossed over his chest. "just change into it," he mutters, still avoiding your gaze.

you shrug, stepping into his bathroom to slip out of your soaked shirt. the shirt fits decently but the cardigan is much larger than you realize. the sleeves cover your hands and feel like flaps. but it smells like the bothersome painter you've grown fond of.

stepping out of the bathroom, you find rafayel sitting in front of the fireplace. it seems he's changed as well but it's difficult to tell from the large blanket he's enveloped himself in. but he pauses, looking you up and down.

"what?" you laugh, "cat got your tongue?" his cheeks burn once more but he scoffs, pulling you down into his lap under the blanket. "don't you dare say that devilish name in my home," he mutters, burying his face into the crook of your neck. you smell like him now and there's a tenderness he finds himself embracing when his hold on you tightens.

“i’m home,” zayne calls out, shuffling out of his shoes. he pauses, expecting you to come rushing out from somewhere to greet him. but when nothing arrives, he feels his chest tighten. perhaps it’s a little silly to have been looking forward to your welcoming smile.

he finds himself looking around your apartment in all of your usual spots. but he doesn’t need to look too hard when he finds you in your room. you’re curled up atop a layer of laundry in deep sleep. it’s warm to the touch and the scent of linen is fresh in the air.

zayne feels the edges of his lips tug when he spots you wrapped up in a large coat he’d worn on a date with you last week. it engulfs you as you snuggle deeper into its depths.

he reaches out for you, pulling back your hair and cupping your cheek. there’s something both ravenous and adoring in his gaze as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. perhaps he’ll let you wear his clothing next time you need a little nap.

your name escapes his lips for a moment and your eyes flutter open. “z-zayne..!” you stutter out, sitting up quickly, “i didn’t realize you’d be back this early.”

“i am back on time,” he murmurs, bending down on a knee to meet your height on the bed. “i believe you are the one that lost track of time. doing the laundry, i see. did that coat give you a hard time?” the look on your face warms his heart as his arms reach under the coat to wrap around you.

"you're cold, aren't you?" xavier murmurs. a silvery autumnal breeze whirls past the two of you and another curious shiver curls down your back. xavier chuckles fondly, hand still enveloped in yours. it's likely the only thing providing you warmth save for the thin jacket you thought would do its job more properly.

"i'll be fine," you said quickly, "the apartment's just another block." your words don't exactly convince xavier. he pauses, dragging your hand back a bit to pull you into his chest. "i don't really have a use for my jacket right now anyways. how about you take it for now?" he says with a smile.

you avoid his gaze, unwilling to admit he might have been right earlier about the chilly weather. but you don't reject his offer when he slides his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders. "there," he chuckles, "feel a little better?" you decide not to indulge a reply.

back at the apartment, you immediately float to the heater. xavier's sweater is still lovingly draped over your shoulders. his warmth remains despite everything. from the kitchen, xavier watches you wrap the sweater even tighter around you. it suits you.

a lingering smile tugs at his lips before you slide back over to him. "you can have it back now. i can grab one of my thicker jackets now," you say, though not exactly stripping it off yet. he shakes his head, tugging the sleeve slightly to pull you closer to him.

"i prefer if you keep it for now," he says with a gentle expression, "i had heard from someone that offering someone your jacket was a pleasant sign of affection." he pauses, admiring the way you're bundled tightly in his clothing. "i just wasn't sure how to bring it up..." then, he smiles knowingly. "i figured a nice walk out give me an idea."

#ੈ♡˳ aurora's writing #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel fluff #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x y/n #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x mc #zayne fluff #love and deepspace xavier #xavier fluff #xavier x mc

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aweina · 6 months

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HI CAN I REQUEST MIKE SCHMIDT X FEM READER?? MAYBE SOME FLUFF I JUST- UGH I NEED HIM. anyways. PLEASE? THANKS! REMEMBER TO HYDRATE!

ᥫ᭡. winter heart , mike schmidt ( fluff )

you and me, hugging ? if you want …

tags fem + gn reader. pining. friends to ( redacted ). mike tries to be a meanie but he can’t. special abby cameo.

“cold?”

mike quirks a brow at your shivering form, the lack of warm layers and no sign of any other winter accessory made him visibly cringe.

“o-obviously.” your teeth clattered with heavy pronunciation, clinging to yourself for some ounce of warmth. “t-the forecast are liars, i’ll never trust them a-again.”

he huffs a laugh at your retort, his breath condensing into the winter air — swirling aimlessly into the filtered blue atmosphere. mike was extremely amused, he could tell you that. during the coldest seasons, you decided to only wear a sleeved shirt constructed with the thinnest fabric he’s ever seen.

you play dumb games, you win stupid prizes. he believes wholeheartedly.

at the same time, he grew concerned. your reddened nose sniffled in the cold air, shakily clinging onto your shirt like it could get any warmer. your brows were furrowed in discomfort, the moisture of your lips stolen by the crisp breeze. even in this condition, you stayed with him to watch abby — who was bustling in the frozen playground with her new friends.

instinctively, mike tugs down the zipper of his oversized fleece hoodie — the bulky layers he wore combating the bitter cold. he turns to your shivering form, suddenly feeling shy about his decision, but seeing you in such a vulnerable state for his own sake made him feel guilty. mike bites back a self-encouraging sigh, shaking his head in an attempt to get rid of the fluttering feeling inside his core. with his gloved hands snug in his pockets, he widens his arms to open his furry jacket — coughing dumbly to catch your attention.

you turned to him and tilted your head in confusion, darting your eyes towards his flushed face to the baggy graphic t-shirt and the oversized jacket that cling to his body, somehow it felt like a mockery to your cold state.

“haha … nice jacket, i know you’re much more warmer and smarter than me. you don’t have to rub it in.” you jested through a freezing hiss, rolling your eyes at his attempt to push your buttons.

“w-what? wait no! just come here, please.” his voice sounded a bit more desperate than he intended it to be, but he usually doesn’t offer this treatment to anybody.

still confused, you shuffled towards him with caution. you silently gasped when you got closer, feeling the comforting warmth radiating off his body.

mike gulps nervously, feeling your panting chest grazing his. it was a strange feeling, how in sync your heartbeats were — they danced in the rhyme together, the tempo seemed to quicken as you approached him closer and closer. finally, he finds the courage to wrap his fleece jacket around your quivering body, hesitantly hugging you through the thick fabric.

your eyes widen in realization, he’s hugging you. mike schmidt is hugging you. he felt so warm and cuddly, all the lousy layers of old t-shirts he forced himself to wear felt like laying on soft pillows. the fur threaded in his jacket brushed its warmth against your frozen skin. but the thing making you burn up was the fact you’re so close to mike, shyly wrapping your arms around his frame while your head is nearly tucked into the nape of his neck — but you hesitated to go any further.

“are you warm?” mike’s voice was gentle in your ear, the flush of his body melted your bitter coldness in an instant.

you slightly nodded, still a little disoriented from this predicament.

feeling more comfortable, mike takes his gloved hand out of his pocket, assuring your stiffness as he petted your head, guiding you to rest in the nape of his neck. his warm pulse tapped softly against your forehead. you could hear his life line — every breath he takes. this felt like heaven, being held in mike’s arms. then he’s not protesting, his melting grip was tighter — protective like someone could snatch you away from his arms. he loved the way you smelled, delicate perfume and fresh laundry. if he could keep this close and take in your scent, he would if it wasn’t so creepy for him to do.

there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. the childlike chants and laughter faded into the background, the bitter cold didn’t feel so bad anymore. it felt like your hearts were clinging onto each other, feeding the aching starvation of touch and warmth. he needed this, you needed it too.

“are you guys finally dating now?”

a youthful voice forced you both out of a love trance, eyes widened and heads snapped towards the smaller figure. it was abby, a huge grin on her flushed face — half covered with a comically large knitted scarf.

“abby … don’t.” mike winced at her bluntness, but he still held you in a warm embrace.

you allowed him to cling onto you, equally flustered at her words but much more comfortable, even playful at the weird circumstances.

“i’m still patiently waiting for your brother to ask me out.” you teased the younger schmidt, earning an excited giggle and an exasperated sigh from the older schmidt.

maybe he should’ve just offered you his jacket if you were going to embarrass him in front of his younger sister.

add. note : hope you enjoyed some fluff anon !! and thank you, stay hydrated too because we’re all thirsty for grumpy security guard mikey ㅜ ㅜ

#.୨୧ ina writes #.purple mark #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson

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fayes-fics · 1 month

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Audacious

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Impertinent. After your engagement party, Anthony asks you to rendezvous in his office to continue where you left off.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, innocence/corruption kink, sex education, mutual masturbation, orgasms.

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: Sequel request fill for @cleopatraathene to continue the story from Impertinent (ask HERE). Sorry, it's taken so long, my dear. Err, this could well turn into a series at this rate. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. Enjoy! <3

The bejewelled band feels weighty around your left ring finger as you rap your knuckles quietly upon his study door. It's late, and the last thing you want is for anyone to know what you are doing.

After a pause, the hinges creak, and a hand snakes out and grabs your arm.

Before you know it, you are dragged through the door, and it closes with you pressed against the other side, the room heady with the scent of recently smoked cigars and expensive brandy. Anthony is casual in just a white shirt, sleeves rolled up around his elbows, braces slung around his hips.

“Fiancée,” he rumbles, his nose trailing up your neck as he leans in, the wood of the door panels digging into your bottom through the thin layer of your silk robe. “Did you enjoy our engagement party?” he queries, teasing your throat with soft kisses.

“Yes,” you answer breathily. “A-And I did as you asked.”

He pauses in his ministrations; you can feel the curve of a smile over your skin. “What did I ask you to do?” he knows the answer; he just wants to hear you say it.

“To return this evening exactly as I was last night.”

He tuts softly, his nose trailing up the cord of your neck. “But you are wearing something, so you are not as you were.”

“I could hardly walk through the halls of your home naked, my lord!” you gasp.

He chuckles richly, his breath hot in your ear. “On the contrary. This is soon to be all yours. As Viscountess, you can do exactly as you wish. Or as I wish. And sometimes, I may wish you to be naked at my bidding,” he straightens up and looks down at you, dark eyes glittering. “Would you do that for me? Would you walk naked where I told you?“

Again, as last night, you feel under a spell. “Yes, my lord,” you whisper truthfully.

“Audacious,” he rasps approvingly, “just how I like it,” the last few words muttered over your lips before capturing them with his.

Your stomach quivers at his praise, then vaults at the first brush of his mouth, knowing that now you are betrothed, he has promised so much more. His lips are warm and soft as he slowly parts your lips, his tongue rolling, requesting entry. Instinctively, you open, a wave of luscious wet heat as his tongue lathes over yours, a dance that has you inside melting and a throb at the apex of your thighs that is entirely foreign but enthralling. As he breaks away, you chase his lips, eyes still closed, wanting more of his heady kisses. He grabs both of your hands and pulls you to the centre of the room, the fire warming the backs of your calves as he releases his hold.

“Take off your robe,” his order soft.

Your trembling hands scramble to obey, making quick work of the knot at your belly, pushing the material off your shoulders so it flutters onto the rug behind you so you are naked. There is a throaty noise and he takes a step back as if to better drink in the view of your body. His lush bottom lips curling under his upper teeth, his eyes covetous, roaming your skin.

“You should never wear clothes,” he opines, backing further away, grabbing a wingback chair and scraping it across the carpet until it is behind him. He takes a seat, his eyes never leaving your form.

“Spin for me.”

Heart beating fast, you rock onto the balls of your feet and rotate away so you face the blazing fire, your back towards him. Then you slowly complete the circle until you are facing him again, his expression ravenous.

“A perfect specimen. Now touch yourself,” the order is gruff.

You frown at him. “Where, my lord?”

“Are you to tell me you have never put your fingers between your legs?” he scoffs, disbelieving.

“N-no, my lord? Should I?’

The dancing flames of the fire are almost too hot on your bottom, as he answers in a cool register. “Yes, you should. But perhaps I should be the one to instruct you as your future husband.”

With that, he stands from his seat, walking purposely towards you, his boots heavy on the rug as you take a deep breath. He grabs your right wrist, bringing your fingers up to his lips and engulfing them in his hot mouth, his tongue questing against the pads of your fingers, the suckle of his lips sensual and damp.

With a salacious pop, he pulls off your fingers, his lips quirking into a knowing smile as he guides your wetted fingers to your chest.

“Touch your nipples,” he instructs quietly.

You gasp as his cooling saliva meets your flushed, puffy areola, puckering instantly under the pad of your fingers.

“That feels good, does it not?” he dusks, wrapping his hand over yours to direct your caressing of yourself, his fingers never touching your nipple but directing your movement like a puppeteer, taking the fingers of your left hand and repeating the suckling action, guiding your fingers to your other nipple.

All you can do is nod and bite your lip, pushing up into your own hands, squirming slightly from foot to foot, feeling a dampness smear on your inner thighs as you do, your tummy replete with butterflies under his heavy gaze.

He guides your fingers over the swell of your lower breast and down over your stomach, chuckling as the teasing trail of your own fingers makes you giggle lightly, your belly rippling. His eyes flash as his hand guides yours lower, trailing into the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs, something thronging between your legs at the molten look on his face.

Two of his fingers curl over the back of yours, turning your middle and pointer fingers into a hook before he pushes your hand lower. Again, you gasp as your fingers slide at his insistence into some folds of skin between your legs, damp and sticky. His face is dashingly mischievous as he places those hooked fingers over a certain swollen nub and swirls them slowly in an anticlockwise motion. You startle at the spike of pleasure that rushes through your body, the epicentre under your attentions.

“How does that feel, fiancée?” he murmurs, tone like velvet.

All you can do is stutter his name on a shaky exhale, your other hand shooting out to grab his muscular forearm where it presses your belly, the dark hairs there tickling your palm as you grip around him, needing the anchor, your knees feeling oddly weak.

“Oh, you like that…” he huffs, amused, as he crowds into you, his hand covering yours between your legs, dictating your movements, a shiver running down your spine at the fizzles of pleasure sparking around your body. “Do not stop,” his voice low, resonant, his lips hot on your temple, you moaning lightly and leaning into him.

A sweet-tart scent fills the air, your fingers coated in a slick, viscous substance that can only be from your own body, a soft, wet noise emanating from where you touch yourself.

“That is my favourite sound in the world,” Anthony sighs into your ear, “so ripe and ready for me…just wait until we are married.”

“What will happen?” you inhale, trying your best to concentrate even as you feel your body swelling under your own touch, engorged, hot, craving more friction.

“All in good time…” he answers enigmatically, his breath a touch uneven.

The slightly rough texture of his cotton shirt snags delightfully against your nipples as you writhe, riding your own fingers and his, wishing it were his skin touching yours. There is something hard in his britches that rubs your stomach with each move you make.

“Do not stop,” he gruffs.

You whine as he steps away, craving his heat, his toned body glorious to rub yourself against, akin to a cat.

“My lord…” you mewl, appealing for him to return, swaying unsteadily on your feet even as you continue to touch yourself as instructed.

“That is it, keep going up,” he encourages, retaking the seat and staring at you covetously, one of his hands falling to his lap, palming a swelling there.

“What are you doing, my lord?”

You are intrigued by his soft panting as he roughly tugs at the buttons on his trousers.

“I am doing as you are,” he groans, “I am touching myself, My cock.”

With that, he fishes something out from his white underwear that makes you inhale sharply. A red, almost angry looking rod of flesh that stands proud of his body from a dark thatch of hair. The slight is intriguing and makes you pulse heavily between your legs as if innately knowing it belongs there.

You feel yourself moving towards him, like a magnetic pull, your fingers still sliding over that hardened pearl between your legs as you get closer, hypnotised by the sight of his hand, now in a fist, moving up and down his swollen cock.

“Cock…” it falls from your lips reflexively as you stare.

He groans loudly at your utterance, a shiny pearl of wetness pooling at his tip as he does so.

You feel feverish, not just because of the roaring fire in the hearth, but a blaze inside, a flush running through you that makes your mind feel both fuzzy and sharp, singular in pursuit of pleasure, your fingers moving faster now between your legs, varying your speed and motion.

He hisses his approval as your knees buckle, sinking to a kneel on the rug, your knees splaying wide, your fingers freer to move, but your eyes never leave his hand, his motion a quick twisting tug now.

“Does that not hurt?” you blurt out breathily, not pausing, chasing a high you can feel hovering so tantalisingly close, a tingle over your lips and the back of your scalp.

“No, it feels just as good as your fingers do on you,” he assures, broken, huffing now. “I will teach you,” he adds, meeting your gaze heatedly when your eyes ping to his face briefly.

Something about this feels so decadent and luxurious, the same as his velvet jacket was on your skin last night, the garment that catalysed this whole tumultuous journey.

“Swap hands,” he commands, cutting into your wayward tangent, and you find yourself obeying on instinct. “Give me that other,” he rejoins. Before you know it, the fingers that were between your legs are in his mouth, his tongue curling and sucking wantonly, feeling the vibration of his groan over your fingertips as he cleans all your juices from your fingers, his hand a frenzy on his cock now.

Your other hand feels different; something about the catch of your blunt fingernails between your legs has you hurtling towards some crescendo, your skin feeling almost too tight over your bones, a pressure behind your ribs as your heart thunders, almost like you are trying so hard to chase and hold in something explosive.

“Oh, you are there, aren't you?” Anthony growls around your fingers still in his mouth, sounding wild, his motions untamed, gusting deep breaths out of his nose as he leans forward, eyes intense and glassy.

All you can do is nod, almost frantic, as if seeking permission to break, circling an abyss. Your fingers fall from his mouth as he groans loudly.

“Come for me, fiancée,” he grits out.

Unsure what that means, you just keep moving, feeling something snap inside that has you calling out and curling over, a scream escaping your lungs as your body seems to retract and explode outwards, your mind scattered to the wind as an ecstatic wave fans out from your core around your body, your muscles twitching.

You are brought back to the room by a noise he makes—hungry, gravelly, all male. As your breath returns, your eyes reopen to see him in the throes of ecstasy: an arresting sight. One curl of hair flopped over his dewy forehead, his lower lip caught under his upper teeth, eyes wild and unfocused, then screwing shut as he roars, his hand a frenzy on his cock which seems to pulse in his fist before spurting a substance in an arc part of which splashes warm across your chest, taking you by surprise.

That seems to signal he has reached a peak, too, his body wracked by a few aftershocks before he slumps back into the chair, panting, his hand slackening as he stares transfixed at the sticky streak of his cum over the upper swell of your breast.

“Are you well, husband?” you check, fascinated but concerned.

He doesn't correct the title you bestow upon him. “More than,” is his laconic, sated response, an easy smile claiming his face as he unfurls a sleeve to tenderly clean your breasts of his seed. “This is only the beginning,” he promises, cupping your cheek affectionately. “Run along and get some rest; we shall meet here again tomorrow.”

You cannot wait.

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 3 months

Note

NO BUT I NEED SATORU AND SUKUNA INSIDE OF ME RIGHT NEEOOOWWWWW I CAN TAKE THEM.BOTH!!!!!

❝ Darling, won't you just plead, or should I begin to bleed? ❞

Heian Era!Sukuna Ryomen x ftm!reader x Heian Era!Gojo Satoru | alternate universe, NSFW | sub. bottom. reader (AFAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 5.4

warnings: mentions of murder, dub. con (Gojo Satoru), power imbalance, size difference, threesome, fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, anal sex, spit roasting, triple penetration, tummy bulging, improper use of RCT , marking, possessive sex, degradation, one of Sukuna's cock gets bigger out of spite, unrealistic amounts of cum, AFAB terminology (reader's genitals are referred to with cock, dick, hole, boycunt, boypussy, clit)

“Call off your dog, Sukuna,” he snarls. Sukuna’s grin stretches obscenely and he throws his head back to laugh. Satoru hopes to have hurt your ego — from the tall tales he’s heard of (Y/N), you were known to have a haughty air about you. Satoru is sorely disappointed as he hears you chuckling along with Sukuna. In any other situation, the sweet sounds of your laughter would’ve made his heart flutter. But it’s mixed with Sukuna’s cackling so intricately he shudders at the very thought.

“Come, dog.”

authors note: heed the warnings!!! * YN is described as having long hair because of the heian beauty standard (hair colour and texture not mentioned)!

When the sun sets over the horizon and tucks itself past the peaks of those great mountains, it isn’t unusual for the sounds of burning to follow. Little slivers of suns swaying on top of wax or dancing across oil. Naturally, the burning comes with smoke. Casual tantalizing curls emitting from the evershifting flame; make you wonder if the sun steams and smokes.

Does it stay in the darkness, its company being the dancers of its creation swirling with it to the crackling of its flames? Afterall, if the sun is the king of flames, it would make sense that he has his own concubines.

Your eyes pull away from the sprouts of candles at the edge of the throne. Leaning your head back, you now gaze up at the king of curses as he breathes in the flavourful, addictive, smoke from the burning tobacco and exhales it into the air. He swallows the ghostly concubines. Stealing another king’s treasure. It was like him; he was the true king, after all.

Sukuna pays you no mind. He had called you to lounge with him, had Uruame prepare you for a night of passion despite not yet touching you. He had simply tapped his lap and you filled out the space by cushioning your head on his big thigh.

He’s dressed in auspiciously white garments, the expensive material has you wondering what’s in store for the both of you. The King of Curses does not need primping. Even so, he is dressed loosely. The mouth on his stomach is visible and one of his sleeves threatens to fall from his shoulder. The hand holding the smoke pipe allows itself to be pushed while the lower pair holds onto your hips. He stares down at you, his four eyes glinting silently in question. You’re practically kneeling on his lap and you barely reach the bottom half of his lips.

“Do you recall how many people I’ve killed for their insolence?” his tone is drawled out, a tinge of amusement hidden behind the baritones. “Yes, my King. I’ve always enjoyed watching you destroy them,” your hands curl around the bulging muscles of his chest and you trace up the tattoos he has to reach his shoulders.

Sukuna takes you in. Uruame had outdone themselves. You’re dressed in his favourite colours. Nothing too restrictive, the layers were enough to entice but not to invoke annoyance. Japanese politeness and grace are interwoven into every stitch despite your less-than-innocent gaze. You’ve always had the prettiest eyes; he remembers jesting that he’d pluck them out to put into a jar just so he could see them every day. They trial the shape of your lips, painted with the shades of flower petals that bloom in the light of the heavens; he thinks the irony is all the more poetic.

Your mouth and heaven do not go hand-in-hand. It’s pure sin. From that wicked, silver, tongue to your saccharine-sweet smile to that spine-shivering laugh.

You were hell-born. Just like he was.

Gently, you slip your digits under the fabric of his shoulder and he watches you and your actions impassively. Four eyes give him more room to admire you with, whatever part of you. He imagines you mean to smooth out the — imaginary — wrinkles as your palm slips up and down his broad shoulders. Your touching earns a firm squeeze to your hips, his hands are so large they cover the entirety of your back. And when they squeeze it makes your eyes flutter. He could snap you in half with just one hand. Barely use any of his strength — Sukuna could kill you as an afterthought, toss your beautiful body aside, and never think of you again.

But he doesn’t.

“You are getting impatient, boy.” The hand on his chest could feel that rumbling. Your throne — his lap — moves and you let yourself be placed according to his will. Sukuna sets you back on his lap and splays you out with a look. You stretch out on him — if you were a cat your tail would’ve curled coyly into the air just under his chin.

“It is late, Your Grace.”

The only lights left were from the candles and pools of oil ignited.

“You are passion and flame and I’ve been prepared for you to alight.”

He thinks your flowery words are adorable but unneeded. Sukuna props his face on his knuckles as he gazes down at your exposed legs. They’re practically glowing and the scent of oil entices his cocks. The mouth on his stomach splits and his tongue curls over the teeth there - you giggle at the sight.

“You want me to fuck you,” he smirks sharply, “and I am telling you to wait, brat.”

“For what?” You prop yourself on your elbows, brows pinched. “The servant that prepared me has his head tossed into a hole and yet I can still feel his little prick inside of me.”

Taking Ryomen Sukuna’s cocks was not an easy feat. For the common man, a few fingers and oil would do. For a beast that is your king, a generous pour of oil and a man pumped with herb aphrodisiacs was needed. None of the men would ever reach completion and neither did you — Sukuna would not allow it.

They would fuck you but once Uruame felt that you were stretched enough to gape, they’d pull the man away and bring him to the courtyard. A hole would be dug and the naked man would be beheaded. His penis was tossed in there to be buried and forgotten. No one should live to tell the tale of preparing Sukuna’s precious concubine. They should be honoured they were chosen but they’ll never be seen again. Those poor bastards. At least they were useful before they died.

Mirth sparks in his eyes.

“I spoil you,” and at that, you bashfully turn away. “I deserve to be spoiled.”

A greeting comes from across the long hall. The servants next to the doors rise from their bowed positions and it slides open to reveal Uruame and a man touched by frost behind them. Uruame is kneeling, and the man is not.

“Your Grace,” Uruame bows deeper.

“The head of the Gojo clan, Gojo Satoru. As you requested.”

His skin was pale and his hair paler. You’re certain if the sun rose he’d turn all but translucent. The flicker from the candles attempts to cast shadows across his small face but they cannot darken those sky-blue eyes. Uruame had announced he was from the Gojo clan but, you’ve only ever seen such blue eyes from white men — he doesn’t appear to have been sired by one. You doubt they’d even let the head of their clan be of a mixed race.

Gojo Satoru is a freak of nature. He is a curse in the shape of a man.

“Does he not know how to bow?” Your purring tone is gone. It’s cold as Uruame’s technique. Sukuna eases it back with a deliberate squint of his eye.

“Bring him in. Then leave, Uruame.” They bow deeper (if that was even possible) and after Satoru steps through, Uruame is hidden by the sliding doors once again.

“Have you reconsidered my offer, sorcerer?” Satoru’s brows are furrowed, and his long sleeves hide his hands but from the flex of his shoulders you know they are clenched.

Rising from your throne you make your down the platform. Every step exposes your delicious thighs and legs and it is so indecent it makes Satoru’s ire falter. The sleeves of your outfit drag onto the floor and it weighs down the fabric around your shoulder; your neck and your clavicle down to the whisper of your chest has Satoru’s ears blush.

You walk in a half-circle to his right, your eyes set into a glare that disappears as slips from his eyesight. Satoru knows he should not let you get behind him but turning his head away from Sukuna seems more damning. Sukuna says nothing of your less-than-inviting nature, his silence prompting Satoru to speak. “To serve you or die?” he scowls. “The Gojo clan will not serve you, Ryomen Sukuna.” Sukuna sighs, placing his smoke pipe down as he frowns. “So you have come all the way here to waste my time and to die. So typical of you sorcerers.”

“If you wish for my clan to serve you, we require more than empty promises.” Satoru’s tone was akin to the sound of the first arrow whistling through the wind, the growl he let out being the twang of the released drawstring. Regret beads down the back of his neck as he feels the sharp edge of a curved dagger pressed against the hill of his throat.

“You ask my king to fulfill wishes? Do you think him a genie?” the shape of his teeth familiarizes themselves as his jaw clenches. The blade is a cursed object, it mewls and groans faintly; the opal colour breathing as it soaks in his blood.

“Come, dog.”

With a curl of a finger, Satoru is able to breathe. You make your way to Sukuna, kneeling as you reach the top of the platform and crawl right onto his lap. The dagger slipped under the fabric around your waist.

“You are certainly an arrogant man, sorcerer. Your haughty clans fail to have taught you any diplomatic manners.”

“Diplomatic?” Satoru barks out a laugh. You narrow your eyes, bemused. “You’re a tyrant, King of Curses! The villages you’ve burned to the ground, the clans you’ve wiped out! Diplomacy? You’re taking the piss!”

Sukuna spots the curls of your lips and when glance up at him, he concurs that you do deserve to be spoiled because the two of you share the same thoughts.

This Satoru, this stubborn man; he would make a fine collection for both of you if he could survive a night.

“You require more than my word to serve me? Very well.” The nudging from your side earns him a purr and with your back turned to Satoru, you shed the fabrics. Blue eyes watch in confusion as they watch you kneel and push away the clothes from Sukuna’s shoulder.

“My darling dog has been hungry. He’s insatiable, every part of him.” One of his hands holds your chin and turns it so Satoru has a clear view of your side profile with your lips pushed forward.

“From his painted lips.”

Another hand slips down the waist of your outfit and it gives way to show the small of your back. Nearly the entirety of your back is marked from Sukuna’s lips, teeth, nails, and hands like a canvas of artwork.

“To his tight holes. You cannot see it, sorcerer, but he is clenching around the tip of my finger. Hungry.”

The hilt of your dagger is askew but neither paid it any mind. There’s more rustling and you’re almost completely naked as you obediently let yourself be displayed.

“Ah!” The wet squelch of a tongue makes your back straighten and your fingers spasm as they tighten their hold on Sukuna’s robes.

“His useless cock is already leaking.”

“What are you asking of me, Sukuna?” Satoru speaks through gritted teeth. But his skin is so pale it betrays his weak resolve. Those reddened cheeks and ears, the racing heartbeat; Sukuna doesn’t need four eyes to know that Satoru’s dick was interested in whatever is being offered.

“Fuck my darling boy and your family will not be cursed by me while they serve me, Satoru.”

“W — What?” he sputters. Meanwhile, you’re all but melting as the sounds continue. He sees your ass trembling as your expression melts in pleasure.

Sukuna arches a pointed brow as his hand tugs the clothes of your body and it flutters onto the ground in a fancy display. There you are. Naked as the day you were born. Satoru should look away; but how does one pull their sights away from a body carved by the devil? Angelic in all the wrong ways, temptation sticks to your skin like perfume and Satoru is not a saint but he feels as though a single touch would damn him. In fact, just looking at you is dangerous.

“Are you a virgin? Or is my concubine not to your taste?”

Your nail digs through Sukuna’s shoulder. So his large tongue sweeps below your drenched cunt to soothe your irritation.

“I warn you to answer that question with caution, Gojo Satoru,” you hiss out.

“Perhaps he’s not a fan of men,” Sukuna reasons. “Common men perhaps. Are you calling me common, My King?” the squelching sound of your nails digging in makes streams of crimson slip down Sukuna’s skin and the sight of it has Satoru gasping (again).

“Put your claws away, boy. As if I would sink my cock into a common man. No, I take you like a proper bitch. This body may be different, but this tight hole?”

Satoru watches a tongue appear from Sukuna’s palm. The pink muscle pushes in and the rim of your asshole easily gives in, back arching further to assist. "And this?" Satoru sees the dexterous muscle from his stomach curl. A tongue larger than any he's ever seen, squirming its way inside of you from the front, and it makes you gasp airily in pleasure as it eagerly wriggles deeper.

“A body made to be fucked, to be left leaking with cum for days. And it is rare, Satoru, for it to leak with cum that isn’t mine.”

Satoru takes a tentative step back, shame coursing through him as he tears his eyes down.

“This is — This is dishonorable — “

“If you walk through that door, Satoru, you’ve sealed the fate of your clan to be erased forever.”

You moan as his tongue grows longer and those bloody fingers wrap around Sukuna’s thick neck. The mask on Sukuna’s face, the eyes on it, narrow the tiniest bit.

“And you’d offend my concubine greatly. He’ll enjoy murdering each and every one of your clan members for the disrespect.”

The candles shudder as the wind blows through the slits of the wood. It causes the flames to dance and the shame Satoru is experiencing to be swallowed down. He is frozen there for a moment, your sighs of pleasure like a siren call to hell. Sukuna’s great tongue hides behind a row of teeth, the grin most likely identical to the one he wears on his face, as Satoru approaches the steps of the platform.

“Come, Gojo Satoru.”

Climbing up the stairs was akin to walking to the gates of hell. Satoru can see the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck. He wonders if every part of tastes like heaven. Your tears, your slick, your sweat, your cum, your blood. Without even laying your hand on him once and you've already destroyed him, (Y/N).

"Kneel." Sukuna's words are a vow. An agreement. If Satoru's knees had settled onto the wooden floor, he'd have sealed the fate of his entire clan to serve under Ryomen Sukuna. His pupils quake, taking a sharp intake of breath as he tries to steady his heart.

Your hands invade his vision. The palms of Sukuna's concubine are soaked in crimson — was that why they were so soft? Your nails still have Sukuna's blood and the feeling makes spiders crawl up his spine.

"Gooseflesh rippling?" You whisper as your naked body finally earns his focus. You're in a puddle of your clothes, kneeling before him. Tilting your head, you surge upwards and press your forehead with his. His eyes may be haunting but yours are unforgettable.

It reminds him of the first time he'd ever peered into the darkness of the woods behind his clan's estate. How the light never reaches past the woodline. The silence. The way his brain made up shapes and faces and beings and curses and you.

In that memory, there you are. Between the mighty trees, what little light did reach you making your eyes reflect it back; as if you didn't have a soul yourself and all you can do is pretend.

"Kneel, boy." You say and Satoru's knees buckle.

The thud that resounds was final. Your grin is terrifying. Sukuna looms over your shoulder and his eyes are glowing with excitement.

Gojo Satoru had made a deal with two devils.

"Good sorcerer," your face comes closer and your lips acquaintances themselves with his. They're pillowy and soft. Blood rushes south despite Satoru's conflicted feelings. If he pretends you're not who you are, perhaps he can delude himself into thinking you're someone he loved; a man he wishes to devour; Violet eyes, black hair, upturned eyes with a voice that'd make angels sigh.

That image disappears as he feels your fingers wrap around his throat. You say nothing. But the second Satoru's eyes shoot open, he sees the unamused expression on your face.

"Now, don't get yourself killed so early on in the night, Satoru," Sukuna muses out. His lower hand reaches to grasp the nape of your neck and it squeezes hard enough for Satoru to hear your bones wheeze under pressure.

"Come here, darling." You turn away with a huff.

Satoru doesn't know what to do with himself so he is content to watch as you undress Sukuna. The King of Curses watches, enraptured by your movement as his torso is now bare of anything. The mouth on his stomach, that monstrous tongue, wets your chest and you simply shudder but continue your task.

"My concubine can be rather pouty when he isn't paid attention to. Best to not let your mind wander, Satoru."

You scowl, bending over to mouth at Sukuna's crotch as he holds the back of your head. The sight of your dripping cunt and ass has Satoru's cock rising to attention.

"How dare he even do so. I'll slice his cock off," Sukuna thinks the sight would be amusing but he simply guides your head lower.

There were rumours of Ryomen Sukuna's endowment.

If he had another pair of everything, did that mean his cock was the same?

Satoru wonders how you aren't split in half as he sees Sukuna's cocks twitching in your grasp. They're thick and heavy, bumping into each other as they perk up from your attention. The tip of it is nearly bright red, angry, and demanding a hole to sink into. The veins on it must make you keen often because you tongue at them with a pleased grin.

"Satoru." He tears his eyes away from the sight. Sukuna smiles at him, ignoring your pleased groans as you take the tip of his cock in your mouth while your hand strokes over the other.

"Feast, Satoru."

The command is so simple yet so vague. Satoru can't quite comprehend it. So he stares at Sukuna then at you, kneeling before your King with the most obscene noises coming from your mouth. There was no way the phallus could even comfortably rest on your tongue, each the length of your face and as thick as your wrist.

It must be uncomfortable. He must have other concubines for this exact reason. There was simply no way you alone could please him.

Your head rises from between your shoulders, and a long stroke from the base to the tip of his cock has Sukuna exhaling through his nose; he sees you bob up and then down. A minute gagging noise slips through but then you widen your knees and somehow you dip your head low.

"That's it, darling. Take your fill."

He wasn't lying when he said you were greedy. Satoru pushes himself to stand and Sukuna would usually kill men for not bowing their heads to the floor but he wants to see what the white-haired man intends to do.

Cheeks sucked in, eyebrows sloped delicately as your jaw strains to keep itself intact. Sukuna is well-endowed, big, humongous, huge — whatever other synonym you'd use to describe big cock(s). You feel someone move your bangs out of the way.

"He's halfway down..." Satoru had seen a lot in his life. From the fantastical curse techniques of other sorcerers to the nightmare-inducing curses, the wealth from his clan members also assists the opulence he's known since birth. The whores his uncles had given to him as a gift for his birthday — the array of positions they knew, of how willing they were to do whatever he asked with a grin even if it involved humiliating themselves or him.

But he'd never seen a man as handsome as you take such a monstrous dick in his mouth with no effort. The stretch of your lips, the smear of the red pigment around it, and on Sukuna's cock.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" Sukuna boasts. "Usually, the other concubines look like fishes speared on a pike when they take me into their mouths." Your eyes open in a glare and Satoru placates it by stroking your temple with his thumb.

"Not even a mention?" Satoru's inquiry earns a chuckle from Sukuna. "No. He will not allow it, if I wasn't so far down his mouth I'm sure he would've pulled away to complain." The hand on your head is not Sukuna's but it holds you firmly in place.

"How do you even fuck the other concubines?" Satoru wonders.

"(Y/N) usually slaughters them a week after I've brought them in." Satoru's shock weakens his hold, so you pull away with a cough and frown deeply up at the two men.

"I do not slaughter them! They just so happened to have ill-fated ends." You squeeze his cock one more time before turning your attention to his lower half, kissing it sweetly on its head before smearing his precum all over your lips, the smell of it making your cheeks warmer than it already was.

Truly, (Y/N). You didn't need to play this part of a proper highborn so astutely. Even if you beheaded the last concubine he had in front of him instead of summoning a curse to slam into it, resulting in the palanquin and the concubine within it along with her attending ladies being thrown off a cliff and mangled beyond words; he wouldn't have punished you.

It was your right to exorcise whoever you needed to so long as it didn't interfere with Sukuna's will. It pleased him to make you bridled with rage to result in murder, why wouldn't it? The blood that painted you from your head to your toes. It cannot all be his doing.

His dearest concubine, you mustn't get queasy so quickly. Show him the lines you'll cross to ensure he remains yours. Kill whoever you please, maim the sorcerers who take him away from you, burn down villages, and bask in their cries and their pain with him.

Hide your giggles behind your silk sleeves if you must but don't you dare hide your amusement of carnage from him; command curses to tear men apart and slice women to shreds. Everything is yours, (Y/N). Everything you wish for, everything you ask for, everything you need, and everything you didn't even think you required.

The world is yours.

"Of course," he grins and the tongue from his stomach reaches out to lick your cheek.

"Astonishing," Satoru mutters. Concubines killing each other aren't anything new though he sincerely doubts the others truly understood what they were getting into when they became Sukuna's. "Thank you," you reply after combing your hair back to take his other cock in your mouth.

Satoru feels overdressed and Sukuna was not in the business of doing that task for him. So he sheds his layers, the symbols of crane wings embroidered in the sleeves shimmer gloriously up at him. Satoru folds them over to hide it.

He will need to forget about everything else tonight. If he wishes to remain sane or tolerate the both of you — he will use his other head to guide him.

"Milky skin." You purr from Sukuna's lap. "Pale as the moon. Eyes as blue as the sky. I would kill you if you lived in this palace."

Satoru scoffs, standing with his cock twitching in the cool breeze.

"How fortunate for the both of us that I don't live here then." He hisses as your grasp onto his semi-hard dick.

"Even the hairs here are white. What a pretty cock." The feeling of your velvet tongue on his tip makes his breath shudder. It's nowhere close to Sukuna's length —or girth —but that doesn't cause him disappointment. He's longer than average, his cockhead poking the back of your throat, and veiny, mainly on his sides.

"Good weight," he moans as your lips trace the prominent veins, painting his blushing cock with your marks. Satoru doesn't understand what you want to him to say to the comment, a thank you seemed unbecoming and anything else would be odd. So he says nothing and just caresses your jaw to guide your mouth forward.

"Take your fill, (Y/N)."

The position you're in is not entirely new. You've taken Uraume and Sukuna together before. Witt their sex is in your mouth while your King takes you from behind. Ah, what fond memories. You really should invite the ever-so-loyal servant into your bed once again.

What a talented mouth they had. Such vigor to please you, adoration pouring from them with every flick of their tongue.

Sukuna is still a possessive lover. That did not change. But he does find amusement in the way you ache for Uraume's body and something about the way Uraume strokes themselves to completion as they watch the two of you fuels him with pride.

But enough about your lovely Uraume.

Satoru had placed his robes beneath your knees and so you suck in your cheeks as thanks as you suck on his length. Your hands were on his knee and his fingers held a fistful of your hair. The silken cloth beneath you makes you inch forward with each thrust from Sukuna.

"The way he's stretched around me. Satoru, I'll save his other hole for you to fuck, this one is all mine," his hips are flushed against your ass. He can feel your cunt attempting to push him out, resisting the stretch that would've killed others, as cursed energy flows through your body. It would ebb away, the need to heal yourself, as your body gets used to his size but fuck does it make Sukuna grin absolutely monstrous at the very fact you even need to do so.

You can't blame him. It's not like he'd never hurt you in any way you didn't like.

Your thighs are clenched tightly around his other cock. Luscious thighs slicked with oil that had been conveniently placed nearby and making sounds almost as obscenely as your filled cunt.

Satoru's jaw is loose. Throaty groans and appreciative moans rewarding your efforts as your nose presses against the patch of pubic hair he has. Diamonds line your waterline as you breathe through your nose, the back of your throat squeezing around Satoru's cock.

"Fuck!" He pulls you away, stroking himself furiously with one hand and holding your head in the other. The expression on your face should be preserved forever, Satoru thinks. So that future men will wish to be born in the same era as you.

His brows furrow in annoyance at how ethereal you look.

You should look whorish — which you do! But there's something unreal about it. Picture perfect, an embodiment of lust, depravity that beckons with that wet tongue and wetter eyes.

"S'kuna! Oh, yes, yes — Darling, you fill me so well!" Your voice is hoarse as you're jostled back and forth, nails leaving claw marks on the wooden floors. Satoru lets go of your head and you stretch out like a cat, the top half melting as your back arches into a perfect position.

Sukuna kneads at the mounds of your ass, splitting it apart to watch your asshole winking back at him while he holds your waist. It's brutal how he fucks you. Satoru stands and backs away to watch, his breath coming out in barely there white puffs and his heartbeat drumming through his ears.

"Fuh - fuck! Mpfh! Ngh — Your cocks are beautiful, they fill me so well," He tightens his hold on you and the moan you let out as he moves your body makes Satoru's cum bead on his tip.

Sukuna chuckles as he sees Satoru cursing and wiping away his shame. "You've never been in a room where people aren't salivating over you have you, sorcerer?" Satoru frowns pointedly at his condescending tone.

"Hah! I feel you in my stomach — You're — !"

"Must you belittle me any chance you get? Are you trying to compensate for something?" Satoru retorts. It makes Sukuna bark out a laugh. Strong biceps curl and flex as he rights your upper half so that it's pressed to his front.

On display for Satoru with Sukuna's greediest mouth curling around your chest to tease your chest.

"Compensate, is that the word you used?"

Between your slicked thighs, his cock spears through them in tandem with the one inside you. Satoru's eyes widen at the sight of the prominent bump poking from your stomach. The fact that you aren't dead is a clear testament to your skills — both in bed and in battle.

"I've heard no one has ever cut his skin," Satoru kneels again in front of you, nose curling at the dexterous muscle that flicks at his chin. "I know Reverse Curse Technique is a useful skill to have...but I never thought you'd be so perverse to use it so shamelessly."

"Get off your high horse, S — Mfh! That feel s'good — Satoru!"

"Wrong name," Sukuna growls near your ear. It manages to split Satoru's lips into a smirk as he cups your chest in each hand. It's slicked with saliva and he ignores the disgust he feels as he locks his lips with yours. Sweet as ever, despite the saltiness that lingers on your tongue.

"If his cunt is yours," Satoru pants out between kissing you. His thumb tweaking your nipples between his index, his cock hanging heavily as it fills up once again.

"Then he'll have to face away. I'll take his ass," he bites down on your lower lip. The sensation of his teeth and Sukuna's rough palms tightening their grip on you have you squealing in pleasure. His hips pause, it gives you enough time to form words while the men stare each other down for a second.

Sukuna was beginning to miss Uraume's presence. They never glared at him with open animosity, unadulterated wanting and greedily claiming your chest with a grip that'd leave bruises.

The shadows of a scowl crossed his face. Insolent little brat. But so fucking gorgeous. Strong too, from what he's heard.

He wasn't anywhere near as beautiful or strong as you but Sukuna has always had a penchant for these types. No one walks all over him. But he does find it amusing when pretty faces are so defiant — or when their heads are staked on a pike with crows plucking their eyes out.

You're breath shudders as Sukuna pulls you off his cock, leaning onto Satoru. He wraps his arms around you, eyelids fluttering at the feeling of your wet lips tracing his jaw while your body is all but boneless.

He inhales sharply as you grab his cock. "Thankfully, you're not — hah — completely incompetent in the sack. Impressive stamina, sorcerer." That, he could say thank you too. So he does.

Satoru is kind as he maneuvers you to face your beloved. Was that irritation in his chest at how excitedly you allowed Sukuna to claim your lips? Gods, no.

"Get closer," you said as you glanced at him over your shoulder. "If the both of you are going to fuck me, get closer."

What was it that Sukuna told him to do again?

Feast?

You can't tell where your pleasure begins or ends. Every nerve was set aflame and you weren't even sure if your body could've survived this if it weren't for your cursed energy.

Because from behind you, Satoru's thick member is spearing you again and again with Sukuna's. The idea of Satoru's cock inside of you seemed to have upset him enough to want to...accompany it in its endeavors. The sorcerer is hypnotized by the way your rim furls and unfurls on his blushing dick, how it greedily squeezes down every time he hits home and bumps his cockhead with Sukuna's. Even though their cum was creating a frothy ring of white at his base — he seems intent on pumping you with more and more and more. Marking your insides as white as his hair. He spreads your cheeks apart, groaning each time he does, and fuck, he's filthy as he whispers into your ear.

"You take us so fucking well. Like a proper whore, huh?"

"I'm not — I'm not a whore, you —"

Then, at the front, Sukuna's displeasure at Satoru's brazen attitude was taken out on your cunt. Still, you take all of him in because what concubine would you be if you couldn't? Your pride was on the line and you'd rather claw your own eyes out than let it be broken down.

His cock was inside of your cunt. You were more than pleased.

Sukuna's face floats above yours, his hands gripping everywhere while Satoru was chased off to just handle your ass. Though even then, he'd grab a handful of each cheek just to leave bitemarks on it — and annoy Satoru.

"Look at you," he groans out. His vermillion eyes are hooded with lust as he cradles your face.

You were perfection. A filthy little demon made to accompany him until the end of time. Your brows sloped so prettily, eyes hazy and lashes clumped together with tear streaks down your face. Lips red and bruised, neck littered with angry and dark marks.

"My King, my beloved, I — Oh, fuck, I'm close, I'm close," you whimper for what felt like the 5th time that night alone.

Why you were cumming? You weren't even sure.

The aching stretch of both holes as your brain is wrecked with too much pleasure is causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. Your hands spasm from within one of Sukuna's hands and your whole body shakes as you feel yourself cum again.

"Ah, shit!" Satoru groans as he pulls out, frowning as cum follows his departure and drops onto the floor. "You're just as awful as he is," he hisses out to Sukuna as he glares at the way the cock he'd been sharing your ass with stopped growing. Snug as a bug as it plugged you up. Satoru had already been close, with a few more thrusts he'd be filling you up once again. Then, what he thought was you tightening up turned out to be Sukuna making his cock so big it made the fit painful.

Fucking asshole.

"If I was as awful as he was, I would've cleaved the top of your head off, Gojo." Sukuna grabs your ass and your wanton mewl makes both men twitch.

His thrusting picks up its speed and you fight back his hold to wrap your arms around his neck. Sukuna allows it. He's close. You can tell. He's close and like a child, he decides he's the only one allowed to flood your insides with his cum, overflow your body until it forgets the taste of Gojo Satoru's.

"Sukuna, Sukuna — My lover, my beloved," you manage a dopey grin as you messily mould your lips together.

"Cum with me, Sukuna."

He's wonderfully loud when he does. Violent too. His nails digging into your waist and ass while he thrusts himself balls deep inside of you. Satoru's amazed your body hadn't given out — amazed at your endurance and how your cursed energy levels hadn't once seemed to deflate once in the time the three of you had been naked.

He shouldn't hope for it — but Satoru wonders how you would fare in a fight with himself. In fact, he cums into his own fist and onto the floor at the very thought.

Sukuna groans as you squeeze around him, another orgasm washing over you in pathetic spurts of wetness from your cunt.

Soft panting fills the air. The two servants by the door rise from their knees to slide the door open and Uraume walks in with three women behind them.

"Fuck," Satoru should scramble to get off his kneeled position but his body is too pumped with pleasure to even process the command. "Oh, don't feel shame, sorcerer," Sukuna muses out.

The King of Curses leans back, settling on his throne with you in his lap and still snuggly inside of your holes. Uraume comes to your back, and two girls tend to Sukuna, gracefully wiping him down while Uraume does the same to you.

The other girl does the same to Satoru and he simply tosses his head back as he falls back onto his calves, groaning at the cool water.

"They've heard everything already. Your sacrifice for your clan. How noble."

A weak giggle comes from the mess of limbs on Sukuna's torso. It's still one of the most heart-fluttering sounds Satoru had ever listened to and he hates how his cheeks reddens once again as you lift your head to smile at him.

"So very noble, Gojo Satoru."

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #transmale reader #gay reader #male!reader #jjk x male reader #ryomen sukuna x male reader #gojo satoru x male reader #gojo satoru x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader

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flightlessangelwings · 3 months

Text

Could I Have This Kiss Forever?

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Important Note: This blog supports Palestine and does not condone or share the views of the creator of TLOU. Please interact with tlou critically and be aware of the zionistic views of its creator.

Word count-4.5k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), Valentine's Day fic, fluff, mutual pining, set in Jackson after the first game/season, reader is a baker/cook, reader can remember life before the outbreak but no age specified, food mention, oral (f receiving), praise, unprotected, soft pleasure dom Joel, squirting, feelings, no use of y/n

Notes- Happy Valentine's Day @saradika I'm your secret Valentine!!! I loved the prompt you gave and the idea came to me almost immediately! And I tried to fit as many things as you mentioned in this as I could! I hope you like it! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

Joel could see his breath as he walked down the street. There was a nip in the air, and it stung his face as the cold hit what little exposed skin he had. Wrapping his jacket a little tighter, Joel huffed as the light layer of snow crunched beneath his feet. It wasn’t unusual for there to be cold and snow in mid February in Jackson, yet the glistening white in the trees always made its residents awestruck. The setting sun illuminated the land in a way that made the surrounding look like a painting. Even Joel had to appreciate the beauty of it all.

It reminded them of a simpler time, a more peaceful time. It reminded everyone of a time before the world collapsed, before there was the daily worry for their lives. Joel used to push those thoughts down. He used to try to ignore the sting of Sarah’s absence. But, the longer he was in Jackson with Tommy and Ellie and others who he would soon call friends, the more he allowed himself to think about his lost daughter and how much she would have loved the snow.

But, a tantalizing smell broke Joel out of his thoughts. As he passed the little building on the corner which had become a bakery slash bar, his thoughts turned to someone else: you.

You brought a new light to Jackson the day you arrived, and Joel was immediately taken with you. From the way your eyes captivated him to the way your smile made his heart flutter in a way no one else did, Joel was a goner from the moment he laid eyes on you. He kept it a secret, though. Life was hard enough as it was, even for those lucky enough to find their way to Jackson.

If Joel only knew you harbored the same secret he did…

Inside the building was the complete opposite of the chilly outside. It was warm and bright and the smells of various cakes and desserts permeated the space as you worked. You actually felt hot enough to shed your outer layers and rolled up your sleeves. You were so focused on the task in front of you that you didn’t hear the door open until a gruff voice cleared his throat.

Jumping up with a gasp, you looked up and locked eyes with… “Joel,” you breathed as you relaxed, “You startled me!”

“Sorry,” he helped his hands up in mock surrender, “I just wanted to check in on ya,” he continued, “It’s gettin’ late and you’re still here workin’ hard.”

“Oh,” you replied in a daze as you noticed the lack of sun from behind where Joel stood in the doorway, “Lost track of time, I guess,” you murmured, “I wanted to finish all these tonight for the big Valentine’s dance tomorrow night so I can enjoy the party too.”

Valentine’s Day… Joel didn’t even realize that was tomorrow. “Want a little help?” he offered, “I ain’t much good in the kitchen, but you can tell me what to do.”

You smirked as your mind ran with the thought of telling big strong Joel what to do, “Go wash your hands and you can help me with these last few cakes.”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel replied with a smirk of his own and both of you felt like the room just got a lot warmer.

Joel shrugged off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt before he went to the sink to wash his hands and made his way back to you. He was positive Ellie would give him a hard time if she caught him like this- working with little sweets and desserts, following your orders instead of taking the lead. But, Joel also found he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the feeling of domestic bliss, even if it was only for this one evening.

“You’re really good at this,” Joel commented as he watched you meticulously decorate the various cakes you spent all afternoon baking.

“Thanks,” your heart fluttered at the compliment from Joel Miller, “I’ve always been creative since I was a kid. I liked making things… art and stuff. I actually wanted to be some kind of artist when I was younger, before…” you trailed off as you stopped and raised your eyes to meet his.

Both of you froze for a moment as you gazed into the other’s eyes. Time stopped, as did your breathing. The roughness around Joel’s eyes framed the softness that lay hidden there. Scars on his face told you he had been through a lot, but then again so had you. As you looked at him, studying his face, you completely forgot to breathe, losing yourself in his features.

Joel felt himself tense as he stared back at you. The warmth that surrounded him felt like it came from you, not the heat in the room. He wasn’t too good with the whole comforting thing, but Joel wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and hold you close, protecting you from everything around. Normally, he was good at burying his feelings, but he slipped when his eyes flashed down to your lips for just the briefest moment.

Clearing his throat right away, Joel leaned back, breaking the trance you both were in, “Yeah,” he finally said, filling the silence, “You are an artist that’s for sure. You’re certainly better than me anyway,” he muttered as he held up the messily decorated cake in his hands.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, “Joel,” you covered your face with your hands, “I’m sorry, I…” you wheezed as your laughter became uncontrollable.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Joel rolled his eyes. It didn’t bother him though, he knew he had many strengths and even before the outbreak, he couldn’t decorate a cake to save his life. Plus, the sound of your laughter was music to his eyes, and Joel loved to hear it whenever he could.

“Here,” you took a few breaths to gather yourself, “Let me show you a trick.”

You moved over to sit next to him and took the spatula from his hand, brushing it ever so slightly as you did so. A chill ran up your spine at the slight contact, but you swallowed hard and fought to keep your composure.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Joel asked, noticing the slight change in your demeanor.

“Fine,” you replied back right away, “Here,” you used the spatula to scoop some icing and ran it along the cake, “Just like painting a picture.”

“Beautiful,” Joel mumbled under his breath, completely ignoring the cake you were decorating.

Luckily, or unluckily, for Joel, you didn’t notice as you became too enthralled with what you were doing.

“There!” you sounded triumphant as you put the finishing touches on what cake Joel had worked on, “Ta da!” you held it up with pride and beamed at him for a moment before you set it down and turned to the far table, “Now just a few more to go…”

“I ain’t going nowhere,” Joel said, “As long as you won’t shit on my decorating anymore, I’ll stay and help… If you’ll have me.”

A mix of emotions ran though you. You wanted to laugh at him again for his poor decorating skills, but you also didn’t want him to leave your side. So, biting your lip to stifle a giggle, you replied, “Ok I promise I won’t laugh at you again.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Joel smirked, sending a wave of heat through your body.

Hours passed and it was well into the night before you and Joel finally finished. You enjoyed his company, and the two of you filled the time shooting the shit while you worked. It took some time, but Joel finally let his guard down around you, and you loved that he trusted you enough to relax. And you trusted him too, and felt safe around him.

“Well I think that does it,” you sighed heavily as you wiped you face, “That was the last one!”

Joel looked at you with pure admiration on his face, as if he were a lovestruck teenager and the world was normal again. Then as he studied your face closer, he couldn’t help but let out a single soft laugh.

“What is it?” you asked, puzzled.

“Ya got a little…” Before he realized what he was doing, Joel reached out and brushed your face with his hand, wiping a smudge of frosting off your cheek, “There.”

You gasped softly as you stood there stunned, frozen in place as you felt a tingle where Joel touched your skin. Absentmindedly, you touched your cheek with your fingers, relishing in the lingering warmth of his touch.

Joel was about to apologize, but he also found himself in a trance. You just looked so beautiful, and he wasn’t sure what to make of your reaction to his touch.

But, before he could say hating, you broke the silence. “Hey Joel…” you started, suddenly feeling nervous as your skin warmed so much that you were sure the reminanta of the frosting on your face were about to sizzle.

“Yeah?”

“I uhh…” you fumbled over your words, your gaze dropping to the ground as you felt his eyes on you, “Thank you,” you breathed as you looked at Joel again, “I would have been here all night if you weren’t helping me.”

A flash of disappointment showed on Joel’s face before he glanced over your shoulder and noticed the hint of sun in the horizon, “It looks like we still did,” he muttered as he motioned toward the window.

You let out a heavy sigh, “Well fuck I guess we did,” you chuckled nervously, still feeling the lingering tension in the air between the two of you.

It hung in the air unspoken between the two of you: It’s Valentine’s Day.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously as you weren’t sure what to say. The air suddenly felt thick between the two of you, as if there was so much you both had to say. Yet, neither of you had the courage to break what you already had.

Joel cleared his throat as he closed the gap between your bodies and mumbled your name, “Listen I…” he rested a hand on your shoulder.

“Yes?” you looked at him with a hopeful expression, your lips parted as you breathed heavily.

“I uhh,” Joel stuttered. He scanned your face, taking in every inch of your beauty as the words were right on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he said, “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

A brief flash of disappointment showed on your face before you gathered yourself, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Joel,” you replied in a hushed tone.

“Why don’t we go get some sleep before the big party tonight?” he offered, “I’ll put this all away for ya.”

“Yeah, ok,” you sounded distant, “See you tonight then?”

Joel smiled, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

That lifted your spirits, “See you tonight, Joel.”

The Valentine’s Day dance was a huge success, as were your cakes. Everyone made sure to stop and compliment you before they went back to dancing and enjoying their time. Some even asked you for a dance themselves, but you turned them all down. No, there was only one person you wanted to dance with, and he stood on the other end of the room.

“Go on, ask her to dance,” Ellie nudged Joel, “Or are you too fuckin’ scared?” she added with a tease, “Chicken!”

“Ellie,” Joel sighed as he rolled his eyes, “Just stay out of it, alright.”

Knowing when to back down, she raised her hands in surrender, “Alright, alright,” she slid her hands in her pockets and started to walked away before she glanced over her shoulder, “But don’t come crying to me when someone else asks her to dance cause you were too chickshit to.”

“Ellie!” Joel snapped, but she ran off and disappeared into the crowd, presumably to find Dina. Joel knew about Ellie’s little crush on her, but he decided to let her come to him on her own terms about it. He just wanted his kid to be happy after all…

Joel’s thought turned from Ellie to you as he scanned the room and found you again. You had moved slightly, but you still stood at the edge of the crowd, not dancing with anyone. You looked stunning as you found yourself right under a light as if it was a spotlight just for you. Your smile lit up the room as yet another person came up to compliment you, and Joel’s chest tightened as the person was obviously asking you to dance.

“Shit…” he mumbled under his breath, thinking he missed his chance.

But, Joel was surprised to see them walk away with a disappointed look on their face while you stayed in that same spot. You fiddled with your fingers for a moment before you scanned the room and locked eyes with Joel. Freezing in place, your mouth parted to let out a deep exhale.

“Fuck it,” Joel muttered to himself, thinking it was now to never. He crossed the room, greeting his brother on the way before he walked up to you. Joel tried to act calm and smooth to hide the nerves he secretly harbored, “Howdy ma’am,” he nodded his head once in a greeting as you giggled, “May I have this dance?” He extended a hand to you.

“Joel Miller,” you breathed, “I thought you’d never ask,” you grinned as you slid your hand in his.

You knew he didn’t usually dance, and your heart pounded in your chest as you wondered why he broke his streak. And the warmth of his large hand in yours radiated throughout your body, making you a little dizzy. But, Joel was there to catch you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close as the tune changed to a slower ballad.

Leaning against his sturdy chest, you swayed with Joel to the rhythm of the song. But, you could barely hear it over the pounding of your heart. You barely even heard when Joel said something to you, or said your name when you didn’t respond.

“What?” you blinked as you focused your eyes.

“I said them desserts seem to be a hit,” Joel repeated himself as he adjusted his grip on your body.

“Yeah,” you replied, “Even those messy looking ones,” you smirked.

“Hey you promised,” he quipped back with no malice in his tone and a soft grin on his face.

“I know, I know,” you laughed softly, “I’m sorry. They still taste good though.”

“They do,” Joel’s tone dropped, as did his gaze.

“Joel…” you breathed as you felt the burning heat of his gaze on you.

“Listen, I uhhh,” he murmured your name in a low tone, “I wanna kiss you so fuckin’ bad right now,” the moan you let out went right to Joel’s cock, “But I don’t wanna share ya with all these people.”

Another moan escaped your lips and time felt frozen around you and heat rose from your pussy all throughout your body, “Joel…” you whined his name again as desperation took over you.

Joel leaned in closer to you, his lips hovering over yours as the slow sway of your bodies slowed down. He wanted to kiss you so badly. He wanted this for so long. But, Joel was also secretly a romantic, and he didn’t want his first kiss with you to be witnessed. He wanted to selfishly keep that to himself. So, instead of closing the gap, he murmured in a low tone, “Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes,” you breathed immediately as you pulled away enough to look into his eyes. You gasped softly when you saw the deep need that burned behind his eyes, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. “Let’s go, Joel.” you slipped your hand into his and let him lead you out the door and away from the party and wandering eyes.

From the other side of the room, Ellie grinned widely as she watched the two of you slip away from the party.

The moment the door to Joel’s house closed, it was like a flip switched in his head. “Can I kiss you now, baby?” he asked in a low tone as he backed you up against the door.

“You better,” you smirked back as you grabbed his collar, “And call me that again,” you groaned as you bucked your hips against his.

Joel grunted as he grinned against your cheek, “Baby…” his low grumble went right to your core as he took your lips with his in a heated kiss.

His beard tickled your skin as his lips warmed yours. Joel’s strong hands gripped you tightly as he pulled you against his body. You clung to his shirt as his kiss warmed you from the inside while his chest warmed your own as you felt yourself pressed flush against him. Despite the dizzying feeling in your head, you knew you were safe in his arms and that Joel wouldn’t let you fall.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” you purred against his lips between kisses.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Joel smirked back.

You erupted into giggles as Joel yanked you enthusiastically down the hall. Hands roamed all over each other’s bodies as you each tugged at the other’s clothing. Joel closed the gap between your lips over and over again, desperately kissing you between shoving clothes off.

A trail of clothing led the way to Joel’s room until neither of you had anything on. You felt like you were in a whirlwind as you allowed Joel to guide you though his house until your legs hit the edge of his bed. A gasp escaped your lips as you realized where you were, but you quickly gathered yourself. Grabbing his broad shoulders, you flung yourself back onto his bed, both of you exhaling sharply as you landed with Joel on top of you.

“Shit, baby,” Joel muttered as he took a moment to study your naked figure beneath him, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

“So are you, Joel,” you breathed as you cupped his face, burying your hands in his hair.

Joel let out another sharp breath, “Well don’t you know how to make a man feel special?”

“Just like you know how to treat a lady,” you smirked back.

“Oh you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Joel’s tone dropped as he dipped his head down and took your lips once more. He swallowed the moan you let out and bucked his hips against yours, relishing the feeling on your skin against his after so many nights imagining this.

Joel broke away from the kiss to make his way down your neck, licking and nibbling your sensitive skin along the way. Your mouth dropped open as your mind swam in the pleasure that was Joel’s kisses. But, the sensations only heightened when he reached your breast and wrapped his lips around your nipple.

The cry you let out went right to Joel’s cock, and every moan from you only made him need you more. Joel’s tongue swirled around your nipple as he kneaded your other breast with his calloused hand. You arched your back to allow him more access to your body and buried your hand in his hair, tugging slightly every time he sucked at your nipple just a little bit harder.

“Joel… Fuck…” you whined as he kissed his way to your other breast with a low groan and gave it the same treatment.

He hummed against your skin, rocking his hips against your already soaking wet pussy as he showered you with devotion. As much as Joel wanted to take his time and savor the moment, savor you, his need was too great.

“Shit baby,” Joel breathed as he kissed his way down the front of your body, “You taste to fuckin’ good,” he growled as he eyed your pussy and settled between your parted legs, “But I bet your pussy tastes even better.”

Before you could laugh at his antics, or even appreciate his humor, Joel’s tongue swirled around your clit and licked up and down your folds, shoving every other thought from your body. You cried out in pleasure as your body already trembled under his touch.

“Fuck!” you screamed as you gripped the sheets tightly.

“Fuck me, you do taste good, baby,” Joel groaned as he came up for air for a moment before he dove back into you.

You cried out even louder as you moved your hands to his shoulders for support. Joel growled into you as he hiked one of your legs over his shoulder, opening your body up to him more. Tears filled your eyes as his tongue hit your clit perfectly, and you knew you weren’t going to last.

Especially then Joel pushed two tick fingers inside of you while his tongue contoured tracing patterns on your clit.

“Joel! Fuck!” you screamed, “Yes!”

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he murmured, his lips hovering over your pussy just for a moment.

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, “You’re gonna make he cum if you keep doing that,” your hips bucked on their own as his fingers pumped in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“Good,” he grinned before he covered your cunt with his lips once more and sucked harder.

The moans you let out echoed in the room as you felt your climax quickly build. Your core tightened as you gasped when his fingers hit that sweet spot inside of you. And before you could warn him, you came hard into Joel’s mouth. You gushed as your body felt like it was floating in the pleasure Joel gave you and you screamed his name loudly as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body.

Joel kept going until he heard you whimper, determined to pull every punch of your claim from you and lap up every drop of your release. When he finally broke away, both of you gasped loudly. You flopped down flat, limp from exhaustion, and Joel sat up to admire how beautiful you looked.

“Shit, baby,” Joel groaned, “That was better than them cakes.”

You blinked your eyes open and met Joel’s gaze. The two of you froze for a moment before you burst into laughter, “I never knew you were so funny, Joel.”

He leaned forward, covering your body with his own, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sugar,” he hummed in amusement as his lips hovered over yours.

“Then I want to learn them all,” you whispered against his lips.

“Me too, baby,” he murmured before he took your lips in a slow kiss.

You moaned into his mouth as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, “Joel,” you breathed, “I need you to fuck me now.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied with a huff as he positioned himself at your entrance.

Both of you gasped as the tip of his cock poked at your pussy. Joel broke away just enough to watch your face as he slowly started to push in, feeling the warmth of your wetness around him. Your eyes snapped shut as you savored the stretch of his cock as you clawed at his back. Joel tried to keep his own eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment, but you felt too good that he couldn’t help but close them.

Joel mumbled your name as he bottomed out inside you, “Shit you feel so fuckin’ good, sweetehart.”

“Joel…” was all you could say, too lost in the bliss to form any coherent thought.

The bed creaked as Joel started a slow rhythm, rocking himself in and out of you. Once again, your moans filled the room in a beautiful melody as Joel fucked you. Only this time, his own grunts and groans harmonized with yours, creating an all new song.

Heat rose in the room despite the chilly air outside as Joel picked up his pace. Feeling you engulf him made him forget about the ache in his back as he thrust his hips back and forth over and over again. Joel was just as lost in you as you were in him, and he was sure neither of you were going to last much longer.

After so long of wanting you, finally having you almost made Joel cry. He murmured your name over and over again as he mumbled how beautiful you looked on his cock, “So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he grunted, “Fuck…”

“Fuck… Yes… Joel…” was all you could form as you felt another orgasm quickly approach, “Gonna cum…”

“Show me how pretty you are when you cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he growled as he picked up his pace, his hips slapping against yours as he chased his own climax.

“Fuck!” you screamed as you tightened your grip on Joel and trembled under his body as your second peak hit.

“That’s it baby,” Joel groaned, “That’s my girl,” he gasped as he felt your inner muscles squeeze him tightly.

Your climax triggered his own and with a moan of your name, Joel spilled himself deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. Chills ran up your spine as you felt him cum in you, and you moaned softly as the aftershocks of your own climax pulsed through your body at the same time.

Joel kept his pace as long as he could until he pulled back once last time, pulling out of you, before he collapsed on the bed next to you. You gasped as you felt a sudden emptiness, but Joel immediately wrapped you in his arms and pulled you close.

No words were spoken as the two of you came down from your highs. But this time, it was a comforting silence in the air. The tension from the day before was gone now that the two of you finally showed your true feelings for the other. Joel breathed deeply as he stroked you back comfortingly, and you smiled against his chest as you felt the beat of his heart.

You stayed like that for some time before you broke the silence, “Hey Joel,” you wriggled out of his embrace and straddled him, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shit, lookin’ like that you can have anything you want, baby,” Joel joked as he admired your naked form on top of him.

You grinned back at him as you rested your hands on his chest, “Will you be my Valentine?”

Joel’s face lit up as he grabbed you and yanked you down, crashing your lips together, “Always, baby,” he murmured between kisses. When you broke away for air, Joel gazed lovingly up at you, “Now why don’t you show me how pretty you are when you ride me?”

The moan you let out went right to both of your cores and it began a second sleepless night in a row for you and Joel. But, neither of you would complain at all.

405 notes · View notes

fatallyfalling · 5 months

Text

Secrets & Sugarcubes ~ ♆

“ Sugarcube ? “

warnings: hurt/comfort, typical Hunger Games violence/trauma, mention/insinuation of forced prostitution, ptsd, soft reassurances, possible slight ooc?? Finnick fears physical touch, end is very fluffy with some slight cuddling, etc.

{{ word count }} 4.0 k

{{ Prompt }} The two of you had a game, a way of trading secrets when the world felt too big and a simple touch felt like a burn on Finnick’s skin. You always made sure to keep a tin of sugarcubes in your kitchen just in case.

{{ a/n }} I swear i know how to write happy things guys i promise akfkakkdka the next one will be tooth rottingly sweet i promise please bear with me >< ! I hope the length of this one makes up for it being a day late as well. This also might seem a bit ooc for Finnick? Not sure - but here is my full headcanon, I'd suggest reading it before this to better understand why Finnick is behaving the way he is as it's explained a bit more in-depth. Reader and Finnick are also rather affectionate with one another but there isn’t an established relationship yet between them. Please enjoy <3

Tip, Tap, Tip-Tip, Tap

Your door creaked under the coded knock, a beat of silence following before it was repeated on the old wood. Your nose scrunched in a perplexed manner, groggily padding down the stairs in your night clothes to your front door, a glimpse at the mahogany grandfather clock in the entryway tells you it’s well past midnight. Your confusion pooled into a sense of concern as cold fingers gripped the metal door handle and gave a firm tug. You knew the knock and who was behind the door as you started speaking before even meeting his gaze, the scent of almonds and honey tainted by a sickly layer of Capital roses filling your senses.

“What’s going on? It’s late. You should be asle-“

Your sentence was cut short as your gaze met a pair of bleary sea-green eyes. You knew the look too well as a frown settled on your lips, your shoulders sinking with your heart as you took in the male before you. “Oh, Finn..” You mutter as you open the door further to let him inside. He hesitates in the doorway, looking lost, but you give a flickering nod of encouragement, convincing him to cross the threshold.

“Come on, I’ll make some tea..”

Nodding towards the kitchen, he wordlessly treks after you. Finnick’s steel-colored dress shirt was well wrinkled, unbuttoned to his clavicle, and sleeves pushed past his elbows. His face didn’t look much better than his suit. His bronze waves were messy, brows sewn in with a tight jaw, and hunched shoulders added to an unsteady demeanor. You could only assume what had occurred earlier in the night while attending the latest Capital party before the famed “Capital’s Darling” appeared on your doorstep. The growing pit in your stomach churned at the thought, and a muscle fluttered in your jaw as you led the victor deeper into your home.

Settling into what sometimes felt like a nightly routine, you get to work on the tea. You also place a small tin on the counter before Finnick, his gaze dancing between your fingers and the tin as you do so. His hands were trembling.

“I think the sweater you left the other day is upstairs. I can get it if you’d like,” You offer while setting the kettle to simmer on the stove. Finnick shakes his head with a soft, tight-lipped hum. He was distracted, flicking his thumbs against the pads of his index fingers over and over again.

“I thought it might help to change...” You allow while stumbling over an apology. You round the counter in a retreat to hunt down the knit item. But you misjudge the distance. Your shoulder accidentally brushes his in a fleeting move that instantly causes recoil and a sharp inhale on Finnick’s part as if he’d been singed by a flame.

“Please,”

The word was strained in his throat as anguish flooded his tanned features. Your eyes widened at your misstep, immediately backtracking to provide more physical space between you. But your frown only deepens as you stare at one another for a fleeting moment before Finnick all but crumples in on himself, descending to the hardwood floor.

Heartbreak splinters through your chest like a knife, bringing yourself down with him as knees meet the polished wood with a thud. Taking further notice of his trembling, it spread up his arms and across his torso now, fists bunching the fabric of his sleeves. The victor wet his lips as his eyes screwed shut, visibly trying to push back whatever threatened to plague his mind.

“I'm so sorry Finnick. Hey, hey- it’s okay, it’s just me, I'm here. I’m sorry, you’re safe with me. You’re going to be okay,” Apologetic pleas pour out in whispers, your head tilting to see beneath the bronze waves blocking his eyes. “You’re safe here,"

He doesn’t respond, only wetting his lips again with a thick swallow that moves his throat up and down. Your lips press to a thin line as you scan around you for anything that might help break the darkness obscuring his senses. Your own thoughts swim with curses for your mistake before your vision finally connects with the small forgotten tin on the counter. Cautiously you rise to retrieve it, your movements are slow, ensuring your hands remain within view, and keeping a safe distance between Finnick and yourself. Once the cool metal touches your skin you wrap your fingers around it, returning to kneel before the distressed Darling on your floor.

“Hey, do you remember our game ?”

A small ‘click’ chirps out as you open the tin. Dozens of small white sugarcubes sparkle inside, gently shifting to let the tin rest between you two. Finnick’s eyes peek out in a squint, dragging his gaze down to the tin and then back up to fixate on your face. He gives a tiny nod to indicate he’s listening, the trembling doesn’t stop.

“Okay,” you manage a small, warm smile briefly as you dip your head to peer into the tin. Plucking four cubes out, simultaneously sweeping your calves out from under you for a more relaxed sitting position, you gently place two near his knee while keeping the other two in your hand.

“One for yes, two for no,”

Gesturing to show the two options, gaining another nod from the trembling victor. At least his attention is focused on the sugar now. Sometimes it took much longer to bring him back enough just to open his eyes.

This was what Finnick Odair hid behind showboating grins and that “Golden Boy” Capital mask. The poltergeists of sticky, unwanted Capital fingers and lips left dozens of invisible burns engraved on his skin. You’d caught the bronze-haired male regularly picking an invisible piece of lint off his shirt or whichever shiny garment the stylists forced him to wear. Soon enough you managed to decipher the minute gesture as a tell to when the discomfort the tanned male felt on his skin too often was starting to eat away at his thoughts.

Never quite free of the forces from previous nights.

It tore open your heart to see him like this. Thrown to the mutts of the Capital under President Snow’s threat of his loved ones being tortured or worse killed if he didn’t comply, there really was no escape from the taloned clutches of winning the annual Hunger Games.

Nobody escapes The Games, and nobody ever wins.

As much as you desperately wanted to whisk the 65th victor away from his position he wouldn’t let you even if you tried, claiming he couldn’t bear to see you come into harm's way and that he’d rather endure the torture just to keep you safe. The seeping guilt you felt was immeasurable.

“I’ll begin, you just answer with the sugar okay ?”

Another small nod earns a second weak smile tugging at the corners of your mouth to reassure him.

“Are you okay ?”

There’s a pause as Finnick thinks, eyelids squeeze shut again but soon open as a shaky hand gently moves the tiny pieces of sugar forward.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt outside ?”

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt inside ?”

Another pause, and then he gently scoots one of the cubes backward.

One cube, ‘yes’

“Can you tell me what hurts inside ?”

Finnick hesitates, his brow twitches with a small crinkle of his nose. You wouldn’t pry if he wasn’t ready, you’re patience was strong and you’d spend all night passing sugar on the floor if it meant he could find peace of mind. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,”

Finnick didn’t have many choices or say in life due to his position in the capital, so you found providing clear options to be rather grounding for the Bronze-haired male. It gave him a sense of stability and control over himself and what was occurring around him. Keeping the questions of your game simple and to the point in turn made his responses quick, a distraction technique you had picked up a while back to combat your own struggles post-games.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“That’s okay,” your small smile strengthens as you give him a tender look, not of pity but empathy. “Can I help?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Please…”

The repeated word is barely above a whisper. If you hadn’t been hyper-fixated on him you might not have caught the parting of his lips that dripped the morsel of sound. His gaze has moved up from the floor to meet yours, wide sea-green irises soft in a pleading expression. You simply nod, assuring him you’re staying right where you are. The tension in his body visibly releases as the reassurances seem to sink in. Gingerly, he releases his biceps, picking at an invisible speck of dust on his sleeve. He drags a hand through his tousled hair before taking it down his face to rub his eyelids. He inhales a deep, shaky breath. You let him take his time to recuperate. Once his hand returns to his lap and he meets your eyesight you resume the verbal questionnaire.

“Do you want your sweater ?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Okay, just a second,” you smile warmly, he nods, and you slowly stand, making your way upstairs, finding the ivory knit sweater on your bedroom dresser right where he’d left it. Turning around, you retrace your steps back to the kitchen, making sure to avoid the steps that creak louder than others on your way. “Here you go,”

Placing the sweater down as you return to sit with the Darling, he waits for your hands to leave the fabric before picking up the thick material and tugging it over his head. It takes a minute to adjust the layers and his sitting position so they’re comfortable but when he’s done the steel grey button-up collar peeks out from under the angled neckline of the ivory sweater along with the tails of the neutral fabric sticking out under the bottom hem. The ends of the sleeves are stretched around his fingers to mimic mittens. “Better ?” You offer while he takes a moment to breathe in the familiar scent. The smell of Capital roses is quickly suffocated in his familiar warm almond and honey cologne mixing with your scent clinging to the sweater. A sweet smile softens your cheeks as he allows a small lopsided smile with a nod and a hum, the corners of his mouth twitching up at the comfort.

“Very much so.”

“Good,” you nod, “Do you want the citrus tea you like so much? The one with the cinnamon?” Quirking a brow with a small tilt of your head.

“mhm,”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Very well,” you smile sweetly, rising again to move back into the kitchen. You gently open a cupboard, plucking a viridian mug off the shelf for the Darling along with your usual mug. A delicate clink echos in the otherwise quiet space as you set the ceramics on the counter. Finnick has turned to peek up and watch.

His sea-green eyes were still big and pleading, not really ready to stand but also not wanting to be away from you. With the counter cutting off just below his irises and his bronze hair tossed around and fluffy like that you couldn’t help being reminded of a small puppy. You mouth another reassurance with a wink as your cheeks warm, pulling open a drawer to pick up two small objects. They’re burnished silver spheres of metal, split in half but held by a tiny latch and speckled in countless minuscule holes for the nectar of the teas to slip through.

Reaching for two narrow jars on your counter you slide them towards your workspace and unstick each lid with an odd “pop”. Whisps of warm cinnamon, citrus, cloves, and black tea mix with the scent of herbs and spices more aligned with your tastes. The teas were a luxury gift from Mags on your birthday a year or two ago. You only use them on special occasions or nights like these.

You take a small spoon and gingerly press the correct amount of leaves in each steeper, adding a few extra to Finnick’s as he preferred a more prominent flavor. Afterward, you lower the metal orbs into their respective mug and quietly clean your workspace. Once the items are back in place you turn and just about jump out of your skin with a yelp of surprise as the tea kettle’s shrill whistle sings loud and clear.

Quickly you fumble for a cloth on a hook beside the wide farmhouse sink. Wrapping it around the heated handle of the kettle you remove it from the flames and onto an unused burner before shutting off the stove. Your heart pounds as adrenaline courses through your veins like lightning. A curse dances off your tongue but your embarrassment is short-lived as a coy chuckle fills your ears, wrapping around your senses like a soft blanket. A relieving warmth weaves its way through your ribs and melts the icy heartache as you hear Finnick laugh again. Turning towards the sound you spot the bronze-haired male now standing at the counter, his forearms leaning on the cool stone. His hands are barely trembling now although his eyes seem far away but his demeanor has seemed to regain its footing, a flickering of his naturally charismatic aura passes through his pointed-to-white teeth in the form of a lopsided smile. Color has started to ebb its way back into his tanned cheeks. That warmth in your ribcage spreads up your neck but you try to shove it back down. The components of your game; all four sugarcubes and the tin are sitting beside his elbow on the counter. You cross your arms over your chest loosely, narrowing your eyes at him in a playful manner.

“It’s not funny,”

“You’re right it’s hilarious,” Finnick drawls, his tone cocky.

An exasperated huff puffs out your chest followed by a sarcastic roll of our eyes. “There’s the Finnick Odair I know and Love,” You sigh, mischief flickers in those sea-green eyes. Carefully bringing the kettle over after it has a moment to cool you pour the boiling water as evenly as you can before returning it to the stove. A comforting quiet falls over the two of you while watching the liquid within the mugs change color. Eventually, your gaze shifts to watching Finnick slowly build a tiny pyramid out of the sugarcubes. The pristine wall of white crystals stands for all but ten seconds (not even) before the victor’s gentle tap sends it crumbling.

The joy from moments ago dissipates into something melancholic.

“Are you okay…?” You ask again, a crease forming between your brows as you search his sea-green eyes for any signs. Finnick gives you another tight-lipped hum, his smile has slipped away and you notice the set in his jaw returns. His gaze shifts from his folded hands to the sugar close by and hesitantly plucks up two of the four pieces.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Still inside…?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Still no touching?” Your voice is tender in a reassuring manner.

Two cubes, ‘yes’

Finnick understands that he’s safe. You’ll respect any boundary he chooses. You’re one of his few ‘safe’ individuals that he allows to fully trust besides Johanna, Mags, and Annie. Unfortunately, Annie was always rather emotionally distraught, meaning Finnick couldn’t be around her for long periods due to her tendency to claw at people during her episodes. It broke his heart to see the fire-haired victor he mentored through an awful arena be left so broken and afraid with limited ability to help her. But you did your best to pick up the slack in her care.

You were all damaged people just trying to survive the best you could with the hand you’d been dealt. No matter the cruelty of the dealer.

While caught up in your thoughts, the tea finished steeping. Gently, you slide the viridian mug of citrusy spices towards Finnick, who allows a small thanks and his “compliments to the chef” while plucking two sugarcubes from his fallen stack and dropping them into the burnt orange liquid.

“My pleasure,” you hum, fixing your tea how you like it and stirring the small steeper around the mug before lifting it from the drink and setting it off to the side. Finnick’s steeper soon follows. You’ll clean the sticky residue later.

Hot ceramic warms your fingertips as they curl around the mug, lifting it to your lips and parting them to give a gentle blow. Ripples of tea bounce around the rim, causing the curls of steam to dance around your cheeks. You inhale the Herbs deeply, and a calm feeling washes over your shoulders. The first sip immediately warms your insides as it goes down, observing the same reaction on Finnick as he takes a long swig of the tea followed by a hum of pleasure.

“Don’t burn your tongue it's still hot,” you murmur into your drink, the emitted sound coming out a bit warped. A ghost of a smile crosses the Darling’s face at your words, though he doesn’t reply, preferring another sip of the luxurious tea.

You already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of his dislike for the stinging on his tongue tomorrow from the burn.

You wish to reach out to him, brush your knuckles against his, or cup his stupidly handsome face in your hands, holding him close till all is better, but you can’t. You won’t. His safety and comfort is your priority right now, and you’ll always give him space when asked. You knew all too well what violation of space felt like.

“Are you feeling any better?”

You question the Darling while searching those sea-green eyes for any signs of pain.

Finnick offers a slight nod, casting a glance in your direction while adjusting the sugar.

One cube, ‘yes’

You nod in understanding. Even though the ache inside his chest still hurt you at least managed to help him start to move past it. The two of you stay at the counter for a long while. Secrets pass back and forth via sugarcube and Finnick has another cup of tea. You move in quiet tandem with one another as he preps the tea and you clean up your steeper and mug in the sink. Softly you hum a small rhyming tune from your childhood as you scrub along the inside of your mug, there’s a sense of domesticity in the air and you can’t help feeling more at ease.

Once everything is clean and put away except the sugarcubes you find yourself on your living room sofa, there’s a space between where your knees are tucked up against you and where Finnick sits. The tin of white crystals sits in that space, the Darling victor plucking up cubes every once in a while to suck on. He could eat all of them and you wouldn’t have minded.

The room is dimly lit, just the light from a lantern on the unused desk beside the fireplace. A soft glow is painted across Finnick’s features that makes his eyes sparkle and spread warmth up your cheeks, the tips of your ears surely going red. You try to suffocate the warmth as it threatens to bubble up past your grasp.

As time passes Finnick eventually speaks of what happened. You listen with full attention and offer much sympathy and reassurance once he’s finished. You thank the charming male for allowing himself to be open with you and he admits, “It’s easy to be an open book when it’s you,” and those sea-green irises seem to light up even more. That warmth twists your insides as your stomach does what feels like a backflip. “Thank you…for letting me in tonight,” he murmurs with that perfect smile, the outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and dimples press into his cheeks. The smile you return is equally as wide and sweet.

“Always. I’ll always be here Finn, and you’re welcome to stay here if you want tonight. There’s plenty of space,” You breathe through a slight laugh. The big house you were gifted in Victor’s Village was far too big to have just yourself anyway and this wouldn’t be the first time the Darling spent the night.

With a nod and a pat to the space between you, you nod towards the stairs before moving to snuff out the lantern. Finnick follows, closing the sugarcube tin and placing it on the coffee table. Quietly you two head upstairs, small giggles peppering the air as the stairs creak.

When you enter your bedroom you rummage in a drawer for a pair of sweats you had ‘borrowed’ from the Darling a while ago when it had been your turn to appear at his doorstep with tears in your eyes. “Here,” you speak gently while holding them out. A cheshire smirk creeps over Finnick’s face as he takes the pants.

“So that’s where these went~”

You shush him with a sarcastic wave of your hand, letting him go into the bathroom to change while you move to sit cross-legged on the plush mattress. You preferred sleeping with many soft blankets and pillows like your own nest. It helped you feel safe when alone - though most would end up kicked off or stolen by the furnace of a man you often shared the bed with. Your revenge usually came in the morning as your icy fingers assaulted the warmth of his lower back with a fit of laughter.

You smile tenderly at the thought as Finnick reappears.

“What?” He asks.

That coy smirk is still plastered on his lips as he comes over to sit beside you. “Hm? Oh - nothing. Lay down, I’m tired." You offer with a hum. He nods before joining you under the covers. You face one another, looking into each other's eyes. Slowly, you feel his hand creep over to yours and interlace your pinkie fingers.

“Is this okay?” Those heart-melting puppy dog eyes return. You can’t help the sweet smile on your face and the warmth on your cheeks.

“Always.”

@justtrying2getby

731 notes · View notes

kirstydreaming · 4 months

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Anastasia Novik

#kirstydreaming #Anastasia Novik #feminine fashion #white dress #floral dress #midi dress #strappy heels #layered flutter sleeves #pink ribbon belt #beautiful model #smiling #shein #feminine inspiration

436 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 6 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Fast-forward two years, and the little Munson clan is celebrating Halloween with some old--and new--faces.

Warnings: allusion to smut, a lil surprise...

WC: 1.2k

A/N: Happy Halloween! A gentle reminder that requests for the TUI universe are officially open. And thank you to @rip-quizilla and @the-unforgivenn for helping me with this little blurb.

Divider credit to @saradika

Autumn has fully settled into Hawkins, Indiana. The sun sets a bit earlier each evening; green leaves become orange, then red, then brown, before fluttering to the ground and being raked into trash bags. A chill hangs in the air, not strong enough to create frost, but enough to warrant a layer of clothing or two.

Lucky for you, your Halloween costume this year is a long-sleeved olive green shirt underneath a sleeveless brown house dress, high socks, and loafers. Warm, cozy, and perfect for pretending to be Misery’s Annie Wilkes.

Eddie strides towards your shared bedroom, a Ghostface mask pushed up atop his mess of curls. He leans against the doorframe and lets out a low wolf-whistle.

You roll your eyes and grin. “You’re so full of it,” you laugh, adjusting the straps of your dress where they’re twisting on your shoulders. “This is quite possibly the least sexy costume anyone could wear.”

Eddie tuts, pushing off on his bicep and shaking his head. “It’s not the costume; it’s the woman wearing it.” His lips tug upward in a toothy smile. “C’mon, give me a little twirl.” He moves his forefinger in a circular motion to indicate what he wants.

You oblige, slowly turning and offering a 360-degree view of your outfit. “How do I look?” you deadpan.

“Like you’re killing for two.” He presses a kiss to your lips, his palms resting on your rounded bump just as they have ever since you’d started showing. Now that you’re in your final few weeks of pregnancy, he seems to find an excuse to touch it every spare chance he gets. “You’re sure you’re up for trick-or-treating? If you’re too tired or something, you can hang back. Jeff and I can handle the kids.”

It takes all of your willpower not to let out a disbelieving snort. If the two men are engaged in conversation, Harris and Ettie could be halfway to Timbuktu before they even notice they’re missing. “I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “Annie Wilkes wore sensible shoes, which certainly helps. Although,” you scrunch up your nose, “these are kind of uncomfortable.”

Eddie peers down at your loafers and immediately bursts into laughter. “Babe…they’re on the wrong feet.” He cradles your face in his hands and brings his lips to the tip of your nose. “Let me fix that for you, okay?” You sit on the bed while he crouches down, slipping off your shoes and placing them on the correct feet. “There ya go.”

“I can’t see over my belly!” You lament with a laugh, holding out your hands so your doting husband can help you up. “Thank you. I promise I’ll be more useful once I’m not pregnant.”

“I think growing a baby is pretty damn useful,” Eddie murmurs, thumb grazing your cheek, “not to mention how goddamn gorgeous you look while you do it,” he adds, a soft growl inflecting his tone. He would ravish you right then and there if Freddy Krueger himself didn’t appear by his side.

“Is it time for trick-or-treating?”

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie jumps, snapped out of his lovesick stupor in an instant. His hand flies to his chest as his heartbeat steadies. “You scared the hell outta me, Har.” He takes a deep breath before answering his son’s question. “We’ll go as soon as Uncle Jeff and Auntie Viv and Ettie get here.”

Harris nods, the dark gray fedora slipping in front of his eyes. “I wish my baby brother could go with us,” he says with a sigh, swaying his arms back and forth. “When is he gonna be born?”

“Two more weeks until he’s officially due,” you report, gingerly caressing your bump and smiling. Harris has been asking about the baby’s arrival ever since you and Eddie told him he was going to be a big brother. “And then he’ll come trick-or-treating with us next year.”

He beams at this idea, bouncing up and down with enough energy to make you question whether he’s already started eating candy. “I...can’t…wait!” he exclaims, each word more breathless than the last as he acts like a human spring. “Do…you…think…he’ll…like…Skittles?”

Eddie places a hand on Harris’s shoulder to stop his movements. “Baby Brother won’t be able to have Skittles for a long time,” he chuckles, the dimples in his cheeks making an always-welcome appearance, “but if you wanted to share with me, I wouldn’t turn down some peanut M&Ms…”

“Nah, I’m good.” Harris says simply, turning his attention back to your stomach. “It would be kinda cool if he was born on Halloween, though.”

You wrinkle your nose. “But then I wouldn’t be able to trick-or-treat with you tonight,” you point out.

“Oh. Right.” Harris puts a hand on your bump and speaks directly to it. “You stay put until I get my candy.”

Jeff and his family arrive thirty minutes later, clad in their Winnie-the-Pooh themed costumes. Ettie, held in her mom’s arms, is the titular character. Viv makes the perfect Kanga with a Roo stuffed animal hot-glued in the fabric pouch that stretches over her own bump.

“That’s a good look for you,” Eddie snorts when Jeff walks in dressed as Eeyore.

“Right back atcha,” Jeff retorts with a playful smirk. “You’re like a geriatric Ghostface.”

You and Viv share an eye roll at their juvenile banter. “How’re you feeling?” she asks you, strategically ignoring the way Jeff and Eddie are swapping insults.

“Tired of being pregnant but terrified to give birth.” You laugh as you say it but your words are 100-percent true. As much as you’re ready to have your body back to yourself, delivering a baby is a daunting task. “How about you?” She’s due only one month after you are, and the two of you often commiserate about your respective pregnancies.

“Exhausted,” she admits, right hand fingers digging into her lower back and massaging it. “Chasing after a two-and-a-half year-old while being almost eight months pregnant is not for the weak.”

Your lips scrunch up sympathetically. “I don’t know how you do it, honestly.”

As if on cue, Ettie wriggles out of her mother’s grip so she can toddle over to her favorite uncle. Eddie scoops her up, and she greets him with an excited “hi!”

Tears gather at your lash line embarrassingly; the sight of your husband cooing over a young child has your third trimester hormones working in overdrive. You clear your throat and blink them back before anyone can notice. “Who wants to go trick-or-treating?”

Pillowcases in hand, Harris and Ettie cheer loudly as the six–almost eight–of you head out to take on the neighborhood in a conquest for full-size candy bars. You and Viv walk next to them; your husbands lag behind to lock the door.

“You ready to do this with double the amount of kids next year?” Jeff smirks, as Eddie turns the key and jiggles the knob to ensure no one can get it.

Eddie huffs out a laugh. “God, no.” He looks at his long-time friend and grins. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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beansprean · 8 days

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Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

Another excerpt from "Your Biggest Fan" by @phasmama (part 2 of ?)

part 1

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Single page comic with multiple panels. 1. Extreme close up on Guillermo in the fancy room from the POV of the bookshelf as he slides a book off with his right hand, wearing a green button up with rolled sleeves. He glances over his shoulder where Nandor, blurry in the background, flops himself bodily onto the couch on his right side, right arm tossed over his head. 2. Bust of Guillermo from behind as he wipes the top of the book in his hand with a cloth. A few wiggly arrows come in from the border of the panel to point at him, text at the bottom reading 'staare'. A few sweatdrops appear on the back of his head. 3. Repeat. Guillermo lifts the book to slide it back onto the shelf. The arrows and sweatdrops have increased, as have the number of a's in the word at the bottom: 'staaaaare'. 4. Repeat, diagonal cut. Guillermo whips his head around with a frustrated-but-attempting-patience smile, a loose curl falling over his forehead as he asks, "Master, is there something I can help you with?" 5. Waist up of Nandor laying on his back on the couch with his head propped up against the armrest and a pillow, wearing a belted gold and brown tunic. His right hand is thrown over his forehead like a swooning maiden and he is pointedly gazing at Guillermo from around it. He is holding a fancy hand fan open in his left hand, fluttering it subtly toward his face. 6. Repeat, zoom in to bust. Nandor brings the fan closer to his face and looks at it pointedly, raising his eyebrows. 7. Repeat. He furrows his brow and looks expectantly back to Guillermo, a bit of color blooming on his cheekbones. 8. Wide shot from behind the couch. Guillermo takes a few steps toward Nandor, dusting cloth still clutched in one hand, and gestures helplessly, question marks arching around his head. He asks uncertainly, "...Are you too warm? I could go get one of the box fans - that will help, right?" Nandor grumbles out some frustrated noises and shifts on the couch to turn his back on Guillermo curling in on himself as he clutches the fan with both hands and uses it to cover his burning face. Guillermo continues obliviously, "We could maybe take off some of your layers?" /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #mlm #your biggest fan #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #fic rec #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

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vampyrsm · 6 months

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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER ELEVEN | TAMONTEN

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale continues with an insight into the dark recesses of the Shogun's daughter's mind, just how deep have the tendrils of darkness burrowed into her very being? Perhaps things will start to unravel in the light of a new vow...

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 11.7k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, cannibalism, vivid gore and horror, descriptions of bodily harm, jealousy, Sukuna is on the softer side here, smut (dacryphilia, oral f!receiving, spit, very intimate, double penetration, biting/marking, creampie, possessiveness with a hint of a primal kink)

“Watch your tongue, girl.” It’s Uraume who hisses the words. The girl in question seems to disregard Uraume entirely, uncaring for the way her haori flutters at her sides to reveal absolutely everything. You have to blink away the surprise on your face to give way to the confusion.

Sukuna only grunts at the intrusion, heaving a heavy sigh that tells you that this woman is most definitely the guest of the day. His arm remains tight around your waist. As if he knew you were slowly coiling tighter and tighter like a snake once the unknown woman ascended a few steps closer to the throne.

“Yorozu.” Sukuna comments flatly, shoving a curled fist against his cheek when he leans against the armrest of the throne made of bones. “I told you the next time you approach me wearing nothing but a haori, I was going to add your skull to my collection.”

Yorozu doesn’t blanch at the threat, if anything her smile grows on her face when she manages to drag her eyes away from the arm looped around your waist and up towards Sukuna’s face.

With the final step up, her lips part as if she’s ready to play his dangerous game of cat-and-mouse but instead… you watch the way her face suddenly twists in agony. The human body was so malleable, so easy to bend and snap until it was unravelled. Her screams were awfully loud within the grand room, bouncing and ricocheting until they settled against your ears.

You watched as her skin tore itself apart, twisting until it broke with a sickening wet ripping sound. Her once fair skin is replaced by that of blossoming red, it douses the white haori over her shoulders until it’s an entirely different colour altogether.

Mangled and beyond recognition, you still watch with a thrill that flutters in your chest. Her body is splayed against the cool tile floor, her blood seeping into the cracks until it flows away. Even now, the long-haired woman still screams — still wails as her limbs are torn, muscle and sinew alike ripping slowly… like it would if you were to sink your teeth into it.

Would she still be worthy of eating after? Your stomach tightens at the thought, but not in disgust. In sick pleasure. You stare down at the writhing woman, the flesh of her legs is cleanly tugged from the bones that achingly hit against the stone floor with each thrash of her body.

How long could the human body survive before it broke? When would shock set in? The human heart was fragile, like it was almost made of glass and anything could break it. You wanted to be the one to crush her heart in your hand, to feel the rhythmic beating of it as it still rested in her chest before you squeezed… and squeezed… until it burst.

A hand squeezes at your side and you blink away from the scene before you, only to find Yorozu is still staring up at you from her place at the bottom of the step. Sukuna has a much tighter hold over you, the tips of his claws dig past the multiple layers of rich silk and nearly pierce your skin.

Not to hurt you, but to ground you — recenter your mind. As if he knew exactly what you had imagined.

The woman before you, Yorozu, seems to flare her nostrils at the motion. Her fingers curl uselessly into the sleeves of her haori and yet—she still does not close it to hide her modesty. It only serves to spring more questions to mind, just who exactly was Yorozu to Sukuna? He seemed to hold no fondness for her in the way he addressed her, but he didn’t really in the way he spoke to you — did he?

“Spit it out, or get out.” Sukuna commands, a lazy look on his face despite the iron grip on your waist.

Yorozu shifts her light-coloured eyes quickly away from you and back onto Sukuna once he speaks. Ah, so it was infatuation on her behalf, there’s no doubt about that. She looks at him as if he hung the moon and stars.

“Master Sukuna,” Yorozu all but purrs, the lilt in her voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “I have what you asked for.”

That makes Sukuna raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t move a muscle to get whatever it is he ‘asked for’. That makes Yorozu shift on her feet once again, the sound of her bare feet on the tiled floor is nothing short of claws on rock.

“I didn’t know we discussed important matters in front of whores now—” She huffs a laugh, her gaze flicking away from Sukuna’s face just in time to miss the raising of his upper lip into a snarl. “Well? Get out of here.” That was addressed to you.

“You’ve been warned once. Watch your tongue.” He snarls in retort, and Yorozu’s thick eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Get on with it.”

Despite her initial shock at the tone Sukuna took with her, Yorozu clears her throat and plasters on a much too sultry smile for your liking. “The Shogun has returned to his home. He no longer resides at the Shogun’s palace—apparently, he had important business at the Zen’in estate.”

You don’t bristle at the mention of your uncle or the fact he’s returned to the Zen’in estate. It was a grand thing, built by and for your father. It held multiple branches of the Zen’in family, all of them trained warriors with formidable cursed techniques. Some of them however had no cursed energy at all… at least that’s what some of the scrolls you had filtered through just a day prior had mentioned.

“He moved his army there?” Sukuna asks, his back straightening just slightly at the idea of slaughtering not just the Shogunate—but the entirety of the Zen’in clan in one fell swoop.

“Mhm,” She hums before continuing. “The Generals and Sun-Moon-Stars are also on the move.”

The Generals and Sun-Moon-Stars? You had no idea who or what they even were, they’d never been mentioned by your father when you had often hovered around him as a child when he discussed strategies with his strongest men.

One of Sukuna’s hands comes up to rub at his chin in contemplation, an odd look on his face. One of deep thought. Whoever these people were, the generals and Sun-Moon-Stars, Sukuna most definitely knew who they were. But you doubt he worries about fighting them, he had no qualms about fighting anyone. He knew himself as the strongest.

“Fine. Where do they move to?”

Yorozu grins like a feline, her eyes nothing short of seductive. Oh, you knew that look on her face — she wanted something in return for her information.

“First. You promised me something.” Sukuna makes a face like he did no such thing. “You promised me that you’d spend time with me. Alone.”

That final word is tacked on with a vicious glance in your direction, aggressive enough to have your own eyebrows raising just a smidgen in surprise. Clearly, the warning Sukuna had growled in her direction just mere moments ago had blown right over her head.

“I promised nothing.” His fingers curl into a fist beneath his chin, propping his head up further so he could sneer down the thickness of his nose at the woman before him. “You mean nothing to me. Why would I devote my time to nothing?”

“And a common whore means something to you?” She spits before she can reign in her tongue, yet she does not back down. Her head held high with a twitch of an eyebrow—she was at her breaking point. You wondered if she too had a cursed technique, she must have if Sukuna had granted her more than one chance to speak to him.

Those long claws sink further into the expensive silk draped over your body, stretching the material until it gives way. He leans forward just slightly, an imperceivable movement but you feel the way he presses closer to you. Keeps you closer. Just out of the corner of your eye, you watch as his upper lip curls into a snarl and the words form on his tongue.

The lower arm of which you were leaning on snakes around your side too, a large hand dipping down until it engulfs the side of your thigh in a possessive grip. You can feel the subtle circles he draws with this thumb, and the way he occasionally drags his hand back and forth as if he were stroking your very skin.

It has your toes curling, your eyes fighting to flutter at the feeling of his hands on your body whilst staring down a woman who wants him so desperately. That heat still simmers from earlier when the two of you had been alone to dress, only growing hotter and hotter with each pass of his fingers along your thigh.

“How dare you speak of my wife like that.”

The entire room stills. Frozen and suspended in time and yet it’s not your cursed energy at work — but rather the words spoken by Sukuna. He doesn’t spit the word like it was a curse, nor does he scowl at the fact he had told a lie about who you are to him. He plays it off as if it were the truth. Why did that make your toes curl once again?

Yorozu sputters. “Wife? Wife?! You–! You said you’d never love someone!”

“I said I’d never love you. You, the lowly street dog from Ainu. You never would’ve served me other than warming my bed before you thicken my broth with your bones.” Sukuna’s voice is a dark rumble in his chest, the grin on his face nothing but pure malice. “Know your place.”

Perhaps it was the shock at the words Sukuna continued to spill at his lips, but you can’t stop yourself from hiding the evident surprise on your features. And Sukuna seems to notice that, as he raises one arm to conveniently block your face with the sleeve of his haori so he can point towards Yorozu.

“Get out of my sight before I mount your head on my wall so you’re forced to watch me fuck my wife.”

Yorozu seems to fight the urge to snarl and snap her jaws at Sukuna, at you, but there’s a drop in temperature in the room. An icy chill that rolls from somewhere, a location you quickly realise is Uraume themselves. The cursed energy they release comes off of them in thick waves, a thick mist starting to coat the floor to bite at the bare ankles of the humiliated woman.

Yorozu leaves soon after, turning on her heel but not before shifting her hateful gaze to you—to stare at you in the eye with a scowl so scathing, you wonder if she had attempted to burn you alive.

The air in the throne room was stifling. A chilling silence that lingered far longer than comfortable, yet Sukuna did nothing to appease said silence and Uraume at least had the decency to resume her post at the bottom of the steps. You, however, weren't sure where to look or how to sit properly.

His wife. That’s what he called you. A title he pinned on you in the face of a woman who wanted nothing more than the four-armed beast still running his fingers up and down your thigh as if he did truly own you – body and soul.

“Uraume,” Sukuna calls finally, snapping the room free from its silence. “Leave us.”

Uraume turns to give a deep bow, their hair shifting with the movement to hide their features. “Yes, my King.” And like that, they were gone in a blink of an eye.

Sukuna handles you off of his lap far too easily, two large hands grabbing at your waist to lift you and place your feet on the floor before he too stands. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t speak a word to you, instead wordlessly expecting you to follow him down the few steps that led away from his throne and out of the room.

You follow — because of course you do. But you’re not entirely sure why, perhaps it was because you felt somewhat safest around him or you simply knew you had no other choice. Not after the failed attempt to kill him once and for all.

He leads you through the neatly cleaned corridors of the temple, tatami flooring swept and kept pristine. You’d think it was home to a Lord of some kind; not a man who had zero qualms about eating another person as if it were the same as eating an apple.

The rooms you pass by are large, but mostly empty save for a few low tables and cushions that appear to be unused for quite some time. It only leads you to wonder who used to live here, before Sukuna had taken ownership. You knew it to be his ancestral temple in a way, this was home to him.

But it was so barren, so large. You wonder if maybe he had plans to fill it one day—maybe with a family of his own or he was just a creature who enjoyed a large space to call his own. The latter seemed more likely.

Eventually, Sukuna stops outside of a large door. It’s different to the others, unpainted with any of the designs that you’d seen on his bedroom door for example. Instead, it’s clean, unassuming, in fact, if you were to walk by it you would’ve missed its very existence.

The room opens up with an easy slide of the shoji door, the smell that comes forth is one you know far too well. Old books. It has your nose wrinkling momentarily, stepping into the room that seems to come to life the second Sukuna steps a foot inside too. The lanterns along the walls all flicker to life, illuminating one by one until you realise you’re standing in a library.

A very extensive library.

There were tall wooden bookcases reaching to the ceiling of the room, and each of them was filled with a variety of things. Scrolls that were stacked atop each other, poorly bound books that looked as old as time itself and stacks of loose papers that seemed to be in a certain order.

It put the small collection you destroyed in Sukuna’s room to shame, what was in there was nothing in comparison to this. This alone looked like it took years upon years to gather, stock up and organise. Was this the reason why Sukuna was so well-versed in all things political and cursed energy-related? He had all of the knowledge he could need at hand.

Sukuna doesn’t stop you when you squeeze yourself out from behind him and into the open room, hardly offering you a second glance as he disappears further into the room to search for something. You can only turn on the spot to truly take in everything, this was far more than you ever expected.

It may even beat the impressive library you’d seen in the Emperor’s Palace as a child.

Noting Sukuna hadn’t beckoned you to follow him, you decide to meander around for yourself. With careful steps, you begin to walk down a long aisle of bookcases. Some of them were unlabelled, simply put there by someone who knew what it was and where to find it when the time called for it. But some did have titles crudely painted and carved into the cover of books.

All history books so far. Asuka Period. Nara Period. You stop once your eyes find the title; Heian Period. No doubt it’d be incomplete, but you wondered just what had been documented so far. So much had happened in a short amount of time since the end of the Nara Period, something your father had often lectured you on as did your teacher.

You pluck it from the shelf, the wave of dust itches at your nose and the tips of your fingers. You can’t help but grimace as it stains your pristine outfit with little specks of grey. The book itself was thick, but you could tell that most of the pages were empty; waiting to be filled in by whoever would ensure the future generations knew what had occurred.

The start of the book is something you’d already learned previously; the movement of the Emperor and how he claimed the capital of Japan. Nothing was out of the ordinary there, but the further you began to read into it… the more you realised it was filled with blatant lies or simply nothing at all.

You stop when you see your father's name written across the page in black ink, his full imperial title. It states his death, but not the cause. Simply that your uncle had transcended to the position of Shogun in the wake of his death. None of this was surprising, but rather it was the history of your father that has you stalling.

You knew him as a man of great peace and understanding, even if he was a hardened warrior. He wanted peace like no other, a world where he didn’t have to worry for the safety of his children—the safety of you. But here it states you did not exist. A Shogun with a deceased wife and no children, no heirs. Nothing. You were wiped clean of the history slate as if you weren’t anyone or anything at all.

Was this the Emperor’s doing? Did he hold sway over the historians who documented everything? Or was it your Uncle, the underlying fear that his brother's daughter would come back with a vengeance and seize the title from him?

“Does it bother you that they wrote you off as nothing?” Sukuna’s voice is much too close. It can’t be helped when you practically jump out of your skin, fingers fumbling to make sure you don’t drop the book–or worse, swing it at the man who approached you with a trained silence.

“It does, doesn’t it? That Samurai pride of yours… No, not just that. The insufferable pride of the Zen’in clan still can’t be snuffed out even in the rejects of the family.” His words are mean, as they always are but something tells you that he isn’t coming completely from a place of total malice and hate—he’s simply telling you what you already know.

But you don’t let him know that you’re aware of the truth he speaks.

“No.” You speak with every ounce of self-confidence you can muster, hunkering down on the tone you had often heard your very father speak in— “No. What bothers me is you daring to claim me as your wife, in front of a woman who pines for you no less.”

His presence behind you remains close, but you can tell he’s standing once again at his full height. So you turn to him once you replace the book on the shelf, and he’s staring down at you with an indifferent look on his features; he doesn’t care for your insolence or tone that you take with him it would seem.

“You used me to make that woman jealous. Didn’t you? Dressed me up as some sort of bride and then splayed me on your lap like a prized house cat. How dare you.”

Sukuna stares at you for a tense long moment, maybe it was only a few seconds in reality but he stares at you like he would if you were a battle, a conquest that he’s figuring out how to conquer.

“Your tongue lashes with such poison and yet,” he leans in much too close, forcing your back to press into the wooden bookcase behind you. “Yet… I can smell just what it did to you, what it still does to you.”

He cages you effortlessly, large hands pressing against the shelves on either side of you to lock you into place as he lowers his face down until he is level with your own. His eyes are all directed at you, watching with such scrutiny that you can feel him just beneath your skin; searching your very soul.

“You’re lying.” You can only breathe in return, even on your tongue you can taste your very own lie. You knew, deep down, that he was telling you the truth — he could smell your arousal, and that thought alone was electrifying in its own way.

“Only one of us is a liar presently.” He heaves in a heavy breath through his nose as if to prove his point, and you have a front-row view of his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head whilst his pupils dilate just enough to nearly swallow the violent crimson of his eyes.

Your heart thunders in your chest, batters against your very rib cage because he’s right. You’re lying to yourself. It had made something in your stomach churn pleasantly when he had openly laid a claim to you like that, to call you his wife in front of not just Yorozu but his right-hand Uraume… it thrilled you to no end.

But you knew. You knew Sukuna didn’t believe in things such as marriage, or even love. It was foolish to believe for a second that he meant it as anything but a way to get rid of a headache that continued to pester him for his time. Another means to an end; that’s what your first ‘marriage’ was. A powerful pawn in the hands of a selfish man.

Sukuna hums quietly to himself, reaching up a hand used to brutalise men and women without a second thought. He brushes a large thumb over the apple of your cheek, rolling it down until he meets your jawline. You feel the wetness smudge beneath the pad of his finger — you hadn’t even realised you were crying.

“I’ve always thought you were such a beautiful crier. You cried too the night you were meant to die, and I thought to myself… no woman had ever looked more beautiful than you did. With blood on your throat, and in the cracks of your teeth… crying.” It’s perverse, yet it has your eyelashes fluttering when he makes another pass of his thumb to swipe at your falling tears.

He leans in once again, his hand slipping away from your cheek to encase itself around your throat. His fingers squeeze gently, an impulsive reflex you think when his lips are within reach of your own. His lower set of eyes are nearly shut completely, whilst he looks at you through thick eyelashes with the other pair.

It’s intoxicating to be this close to him, a mixture of fear and arousal that blend so perfectly together you can’t tell one from the other. He could tear your very throat out in the blink of an eye, slice you into a million pieces and you’d never be found again. But he holds you with a sense of gentleness, his thumb making the barest of movements just beneath the corner of your jaw.

You expect him to lean in to kiss you, to give in to that primal instinct to press against another human being but instead, his lips brush away from your own. They find home against your cheek, before he ever so slowly drags his tongue up along the tear tracks.

He angles his head after his tongue follows along that watery path, until his lips brush against the shell of your ear. His breath is warm when his lips part, “You’d never be nothing with me.”

It’s sinful how easily he can drop the harshness of his voice, how he can soothe out the deep ridges until his voice is nothing but a rumbling purr. It takes great strength on your part to not let your eyes flutter closed and to part your lips to tell him just how much you enjoyed when he spoke to you like that.

“Is that what you want? To be something, to be someone?” Another deep inhale through his nose, no doubt savouring the scent of your apparent arousal. “With me, you could be so much more than just someone.”

“How?” Your own voice is nothing but a whisper, but Sukuna hears you as clear as day. His face breaks into that feline-like smile, brushing his lips against the lobe of your ear before he rounds back around to look you in the eye.

“You’ve already given part of yourself to me, but the rest… give me the rest of you.”

Your blood roars in your ears, screams at you to refuse to fall for another one of his deals—a bargain with the devil himself. But the way his fingers drag down from their place at your throat, gently prying apart your carefully planned outfit until the tips of those fingers brush over your collarbone. It’s impossible to listen to anything but your desire; a desire for more.

It was simple human nature. To want to become something more, to make a mark on the world that had been designed to oppress you as a woman – you wanted to be the reason why men feared your name, why they put you in the history books simply because you were someone. He was offering you power, plain and simple.

You have to wet your lips to get your words to roll from your tongue, and Sukuna looks far too pleased with the effect he’s having on your body. “I don’t—How?” You repeat yourself.

“A Binding vow.” He replies predictably, and his grin grows more wolfish when he sees the recollection dawn on your face. You couldn’t get out of the vow even if you tried once the terms were set. “I promise it won’t be as complicated as the first.”

Those same fingers that were pushing your kimono apart succeed, it falls limply to rest atop your breasts. You expect him to pry it open further but he doesn’t, instead his eyes shift away from your own to settle on the centre of your chest. His fingers brush slowly, gently, along the area as if he were caressing your heart directly.

“Give me your heart.” It comes from his mouth so easily, as if he hadn’t asked for the one thing that keeps you alive. It makes your skin sweaty beneath his touch, hairs rising on the back of your neck as if your brain finally caught up with the fact you’re pinned uselessly beneath a great beast. “And you will have mine. That’s the vow.”

“That’s it?” It seemed far too simple, far too vague that it seemed almost like a joke. Like he was playing on your emotions. “How does killing me give me what I want?”

“I don’t mean literally giving me your heart. Not yet, anyway.” He breathes with a grin, his fingers pressing harder against the softness of your chest until his claws start to dig into the flesh. “Binding the heart should theoretically tie you to my own lifeline, you’d have access to unimaginable strength.”

“Theoretically?” You huff in part amusement and part disbelief, he wanted you to hand over your heart—metaphorically—based on a theory? “You want my heart based on… what, some story written by a monk gone mad?”

Those same claws still on your chest for a moment, but they don’t remove themselves from how they’re embedded in your chest; poised to rip out your beating heart. He instead drags his eyes back up to meet your own, that smile on his face is nothing short of bad intentions.

“What, scared? Where’s that samurai warrior spirit of yours? You had no fear when you tried to cut my head off, twice.” He’s still so close that he speaks the words practically into your mouth. You know he’s trying to coax you into giving him what he wants, you know that, but… it was so easy to let your guard slip until you were intoxicated on everything that was Ryomen Sukuna.

He must see it visibly slip on your face as his smile grows ever-larger, more devious and that hand on your chest splays out wide. The palm of his large hand settles wholly over your heart, even pressing a little harder to feel the rapid thumping of it against his own flesh.

“Well?”

“...I agree.”

He swallows your agreement just as it leaves your lips, his own mouth working against your own whilst his hand presses harder and harder against your chest—until it feels like he’s about to pass his hand right through your body. It burns under his palm, hotter than anything you’ve ever felt before. But you have felt it before, in the hot spring.

Sukuna brands your skin so effortlessly, binds your body to his own with a simple press of his cursed energy. Yet your body feels no different, you don’t feel the ‘unimaginable strength’ Sukuna had theorised about. You feel nothing but the pass of his tongue into your mouth, the tip of it running over the roof of your mouth until he flicks it against your teeth.

He pulls back, mercifully, as your breath grows shorter. He stares down at you intensely, his palm still pressed against your chest. You want to know what’s running through his mind when he stares at you like that, a look that’s calculating yet so disarming.

But instead, there’s a shift of movement and you’re hoisted into the air. Much too high for your liking. Your thighs squeeze around his midsection, and you’re forced to press your hands against his broad shoulders. Sukuna holds you above him, his head tilted back to look at you in a different light – and here you start to understand the look in his eye. Admiration.

“A normal person would’ve died…” He starts, but stops short of finishing his sentence completely. Instead, he draws you impossibly closer to his body, two large hands gripping your thighs whilst the other two hold your waist so delicately.

His words should worry you. His theory was based on the fact that most, if not all, people died at the very notion of binding your heart to another. But instead, you find yourself speechless, staring down at him tips the power scale over. You feel awfully out of place above him like this, his eyes have a different glimmer to them when he’s forced to stare up at you.

You can’t stop your hands from leaving his shoulders to cup his face, your hands seem tiny on either side of his jaw that flexes at the contact. You drag your thumb along the black tattoos along his jaw, tracing them until you have to repeat the gesture over–and over–...

His lips mirror the softness of your own easily enough, he doesn’t force his tongue into your mouth as he had so many times before. Rather, he simply lets you guide the kiss, gently and smoothly. Your body is forced to hunch down to reach his, and he aids you with a hand splayed across the small of your back to keep you steady.

One of your hands slips away from his jaw, hooking your arm loosely around his neck to run your fingers up along the nape of his neck, through the shortened hairs there until you can glide your fingers through the longer pink strands of hair. His chest rumbles between your thighs, a deep sound that resembles something so oddly familiar—

The sound grows louder with each pass of your nails against his scalp, up and back down to scratch at the nape of his neck. It’s only then that you realise the rumble is more like a deep vibration, a purr. Your toes curl against the corded muscles of his back at that sound alone, the press of his midsection between your thighs doesn’t help either.

It doesn’t take very long for the kiss to devolve into a slick mess, his insatiable greed for more growing far too large to ignore. He guides your tongue in a sensual dance, one that has your core aching with the memory of what that second tongue had done between your thighs not even a single night ago.

Suddenly, you’re pulled away from the bookcase he had cornered you against. The movement doesn’t break his concentration on your lips, each of his steps are with purpose. His gait doesn’t falter either when he begins to lower himself down onto his knees, those large hands holding you steadfast to ensure his time with your mouth isn’t cut short.

The way he handles you is entirely different to how he had the previous night. Last night was filled with adrenaline-fuelled lust, rough grabbing hands that took and took until there was nothing left to give. But now, he handles you with a delicacy you’d see reserved for loved ones.

His hands don’t leave your waist when he lays you flat on your back on the softer tatami mat made for sitting and reading on. Instead, he holds you much tighter, like he expects you to wriggle out from beneath him at any second. Though you don’t plan on that any time soon, not when his lips finally break away from your own to press themselves in long passes against your jaw and the hollow of your throat.

The Uchikake slips away from your shoulders, giving him better access to start pulling and tugging in the right places until your kimono unravels entirely from your body. It falls limply at your sides, revealing your bare front to the prying eyes that do a slow sweep up and down your body. The hands at your waist smooth up the expanse of your hips, up along your rib cage until he rests his thumbs just beneath your breasts.

His eyes slip up along the length of your chest, lingering for just a moment on your breasts before he meets your own gaze. That carnal lust for blood has been replaced by nothing but pure desire, it leaks into his eyes until his pupils are dilated and locked onto yours. He looks like a predator who just found his prey.

The length of his tongue is hot against your nipple, the black of his tattoo such a stark contrast to the pink of his tongue as it contorts to swirl around the hardening nipple before he sucks it into his mouth without shame. All whilst he maintains that heedy eye contact, making sure you watch him thoroughly enjoy your body; the body you’ve just given to him so willingly under the guise of a binding vow.

Thankfully, he isn’t forgetful. A hand comes up along your right side, pressing into your skin to feel each and every bump of your ribs beneath the skin that he could shred so easily. His hand comes up to cup the entirety of your breast in one large palm, fingers stretching and then squeezing tightly as if to get a true grasp of just what he was holding.

It’s a painful grasp but it soon bleeds into pleasure when he pinches the stiff peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it until you’re forced to breathe out your pleasure.

The sound that escapes your mouth seems to be what Sukuna was waiting for, his own groan is muffled against the flesh of your breast but it vibrates against your nipple nonetheless. Your hips buck up at the feeling, and in turn, Sukuna presses his own body harder against your own — pinning you beneath him, keeping you still so he could perform his ministrations against your body without interruption.

He continues to twist the tip of his tongue around your nipple, sucking it further into his mouth until you’re sure it’s going to leave a painful bruise in its wake. But then he switches to the other, giving it the exact same treatment whilst his fingers now play with the abused flesh of the nipple dripping in his spit.

Sukuna doesn’t linger much longer on your nipples, instead ducking down to latch his teeth into the fleshy part of your underboob and it’s enough to pull a pained hiss from you. You can feel his lips curl into a triumphant grin at the fact he was able to pull a sound from you and not fight the repercussions.

The path he marks down your body is a tantalising mixture of pain and pleasure, his teeth sink into the fleshier parts of your body – only to be soothed over by the thickness of his tongue. You watch him as he lowers further and further down, his upper set of arms stretched up just slightly so he can continue to pinch at your nipples.

He holds your eyes with his own, settling just at the apex of your thighs and here you can feel the billowing heavy breaths being pushed from his nose. It makes your toes curl and thighs rub together in an attempt to stave off the pressure between your legs. Sukuna of course doesn’t miss the movement, his tongue flicks out to run over his upper lip. He looked as if he were about to devour a meal.

The spare pair of hands come to your outer thighs, easily pressing his fingers into the flesh to manoeuvre them up and over his shoulders once he settles himself on his stomach between your thighs. It’s an odd sight; to see a man as gigantic as Sukuna on his stomach, between your thighs of all places.

Part of you expects him to dive straight into it, he spreads your legs so wide on his broad shoulders that you don’t doubt he can see everything on display. That alone has heat burning at the tips of your ears and buzzing in the apple of your cheeks, it’s entirely different from the previous time he had been between your legs.

It felt different when he used the tongue at his stomach, almost like that was just a way to prepare him for you but this…—it was beyond intimate. A man willing to lay down on his stomach in such a vulnerable position just for the purpose of pleasuring you was mind-numbingly attractive.

Those hands that had been pinching and squeezing at your breasts have meandered their way down to your thighs, easily wrapping themselves around the meat of your thigh to lock you into place whilst the bottom set of hands pry you open. Now that has you squirming, you can feel the wet heat of your desire leaking down to stain the pristine white fabric of your kimono that had been turned into a temporary blanket.

You want to look away from him, to divert your gaze away from the downright filthy look in his own. He doesn’t break away, not once, not when his jaw works for a moment before he spits against your clit. Your thighs tense, your hips jumping up at the contact of the significantly cooler liquid against the molten warmth of your pussy.

Then. Then, he graces you with the length of his tongue. It presses against you, the tip of it dipping between your spread folds to then drag its way up until it teasingly flicks against your clit. Again, you jolt from the pleasure. It was most definitely different from the tongue in his stomach, that one was much too big – made purely to ensure you were dripping wet before he took you.

But this tongue… the skilled tongue that had spat threats so easily, and had been the home of smug words and arrogance like no other. It was working you to completion much quicker than ever before. Sukuna must realise it too, noticing the sudden rush of arousal that graces his tongue and lips because he locks his arms tighter around your thighs. And then, he truly devours his meal.

Long gone are the gentle, slow passes of his tongue. Each pass of his tongue is aggressive in a way that has your toes curling into his back and the heel of your feet dragging along the tattooed flesh there. His lips are unforgiving when they latch themselves to your clit, those teeth that you’d seen rip through flesh graze teasingly against the sensitive nub there until your fingers find a home in his hair.

When you pull, he groans. A low, deep rich sound that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He sounds like a wounded animal, like he’s teetering on the edge of his own bliss with each clamping pull of your hand in his hair. He doesn’t give up on the quick passes of his tongue over your clit, nor does he stop drooling against your pussy as if you were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

You jerk beneath his ministrations once again, and your fingers tighten on his hair. Holding him in place as you ride the start of your orgasm against his tongue, Sukuna looks like he’s lost in his own world—one that contains only you and him in this very moment. His eyes are half-lidded yet you can see the unbridled lust there, something so humanly wanton that it makes your thighs twitch.

Then it washes over you. You feel a tug in your chest, a pooling of vicious lust in your stomach and with a moan of his name, a breathy “Ryomen!”, you cum on his tongue. He holds you in place thankfully, your hips jumping uncontrollably because his nose continues to press against your clit with each deep press of his tongue into your still throbbing walls.

Sukuna finally pulls himself away from the salvation he found between your thighs, the bottom half of his face and part of his cheeks are drenched. A shiny clear sheen of your very obvious arousal, and he grins. All sharp teeth and dark intentions on display, his eyes glitter with the fact he had you come undone on his face so quickly—so easily.

He then crawls back up the length of your body, slow movements that pull his muscles perfectly. He’s the very image of an apex predator, and you find yourself slipping far too easily into the role of his unlucky prey. Your legs spread once again for him with the help of his own thighs spreading you wider, he’s fully dressed yet you can feel the heavy press of his twin cocks.

A hand comes up to your face, a curled index finger stroking along the soft skin beneath your eye and down towards your temple, wiping away the stray tears that had come loose in the height of your orgasm. “You’re beautiful when you cum.” He says it nonchalantly like it’s a fact more than a compliment, yet it still has your heart pumping faster and arousal spiking.

The kiss he lays against your lips is undoubtedly soft, far too soft for the man you know him as and it’s so fleeting that you’re left wondering if it truly even happened. His mouth instead finds a home against your neck, panting breaths pressed against the scarred flesh there from the previous times he tore you apart, just to piece you together again with his very own hand.

He settles his weight between your legs, forcing your thighs to spread impossibly wider to accommodate him. But instead of resting there for much longer, his hands grab at your waist and thighs. The world shifts around you, a blur of movement and a thump of a body against the floor — all to reveal Sukuna now splayed out beneath you.

His hands stroke gently up along the bareness of your thighs, and slowly back down to stroke the soft skin at your knees. He still looks impossibly big even beneath you, but it makes your heart seize in your chest. He put you in a place of power, a seat of dominance on his very lap; all with a lazy smile on his face.

“It’s an equal exchange,” he explains when he sees the thoughts flit behind your eyes. “I take from you, and you take from me.”

Right. The Binding Vow. The reason why your chest still burns with an idle ache that feels familiar to the one at your wrist. Instead of answering him, you look down at your own body, noting the numerous bite marks embedded into your skin. Your fingers brush along each of them until you halt at the centre of your chest, right between your breasts—

There’s a new tattoo. It’s different to the band around your wrist, instead, it’s two curved lines separated with a smaller tear-drop line in the middle, shaped like a trident. The long lines curve with your breasts, the teardrop resting just over the centre of your heart.

Your fingers brush over it briefly, there’s an aching sting beneath the fresh ink that blossomed on your skin. It’s tiny compared to the one you’ve seen on Sukuna’s body, on his tongue. You want to know what the symbols mean to him, each of them must hold a different reason for their shape and placement.

“You suit them,” Sukuna supplies after a moment of watching you trace over the trident-like shape on your chest, and your eyes drift back up to meet his. That lust is still there but it’s softened into a gentler, more welcoming red.

“I don’t think I’d suit the face tattoos.” You admit, and he arches an eyebrow in amusement at your words.

“No? You dislike them?” His claws playfully drag down along the flesh of your thighs, earning him a full-body shiver which inevitably causes his cocks to twitch from where they’re trapped against your still wet-heat between your thighs.

Your laugh causes his own lips to turn into a smooth smile, his eyes tracking the movement when you shake your head. “Always putting words in my mouth,” you lean forward, planting your hands on his chest and inwardly mourning the fact he was still wearing his own kimono. “I just think you look much better with them. Fearsome.”

His eyebrow remains raised in feigned disbelief, perhaps even faked hurt. “Just fearsome? I bathe you in compliments, and in return I get fearsome?”

You lean ever closer, brushing your nose playfully against his and he returns the motion but a little more harsher. It’s an odd air that’s settled over the both of you, maybe it was the binding vow still setting in. You had handed him your very heart, and you were still due to take his. It’s not an unenjoyable air however, if anything, it’s the happiest you’ve felt in a very long time.

“Handsome. Ruthless. Regal.” Each word is breathed between kisses along the thick line of the tattoo along his jaw until you’re nestled next to his ear. “Does that satisfy you, or do you want me to stroke your ego some more?”

A buck of his hips has your newfound confidence wavering, a tumbling moan falling from your lips and gracing his ear. His hands grasp tightly at your hips whilst a large palm smoothes over the expanse of your ass, grabbing and squeezing — only to smack you with enough force to spring tears to your eyes.

“Careful.” He blows the word against your own ear, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your earlobe before laying a kiss just beneath.

As if remembering just the hold you have over him at the moment, you lean out of the biting range of that wandering mouth. He nearly snarls at the fact you pull away, until you start to tug at the obi belt of his kimono. Undoing all the layering until his chest is laid bare for you. You trace your own finger along the expanse of the lines that mar his chest there, down the chunk-like squares until your hand presses over his own heart.

Sukuna at least lifts his hips to help you push down his Hakama and free him completely from the confines of the materials you had dressed him only a short while ago. He relaxes further with the skin-to-skin contact, yet those cocks between your thighs twitch impatiently; drooling against his defined muscles.

He holds your gaze when you plant a hand on his stomach, lifting your own hips to guide a hand between them and take hold of one of the thick cocks waiting for attention. You leave the upper one untouched, and he grunts at the realisation you won’t be taking both—not yet, anyway.

The tip of his cock grazes against your still-sensitive clit, and glides through the sticky mess between your lips. You’d only grown more and more wet for him as you found yourself atop of him, and you don’t doubt that you could take him… with a bit of a struggle.

Sukuna schools his features well but you don’t miss the swell of his chest when he sucks in a breath, your entrance swallows the tip of his cock greedily and that alone has a stinging burn pinching at your walls. But you preserve, you push through inch by inch until you’re seated on his thighs with his heavy balls resting at the curve of your ass.

You clench involuntarily, and finally, the mask slips away from Sukuna’s face. He groans, without shame, kiss-bruised lips parting to relieve him of the pleasure he was trying to keep to himself. His hands are clamped to your hips, holding you in place just to give him a second to breathe — to recalibrate his brain and try to focus on anything but just how tight and warm your pussy was.

“Even after nearly stuffing you with two cocks, you’re still so fucking tight.” He hisses, sharp fangs on display when he grits his teeth to give a tentative roll of his hips up into you.

Your thighs tense, walls throbbing around his length and the pretty moan pulled from your lips is complimented by his own rumbling groan. On instinct your own hips grind back, your clit catching against the underside of his unattended cock and those long black claws finally sink into your flesh.

It feels too good. Far too good, and you’ve not even moved yet—not properly. You want to ride him, to sit atop of him and watch him unravel whilst nestled beneath you. But it’s becoming increasingly hard to think when you feel the tip of his cock that’s buried deep inside of you twitch against that one spongy spot deep inside of you.

So you distract yourself, momentarily. Your hand slides away from his stomach and wraps around the weeping cock against his pelvis, Sukuna jerks at the motion as if he hadn’t expected you to take care of both. Your fingers don’t reach around the girth of him, but you squeeze nevertheless.

His cock is dripping with your arousal from when you had been seated atop of him, you had been turned on for him so much so that it had leaked through his pants. Your hand glides easily up and down, twisting gently at the tip of his cock to roll your thumb over the slit there before spreading the mixture of your slick and his pre-cum down along his length.

Sukuna all but groans prettily at the way you handle him, head thunking back against the floor when he finally, finally, relinquishes control to you. You give another grind of your hips and the pinching burn there has started to bleed away into undeniable pleasure, so you shift a little atop of him.

As if realising what you were about to do, Sukuna places his hands just beneath your thighs. Not to control you, but to simply guide you, support you, if you needed it. The first bounce is awfully loud and sticky, your pussy greedily sucking his cock back in when you drop down to his hips.

Your hand slackens a little around the cock still leaking near his belly button, so a large hand engulfs your own and starts to move your hand up and down a little more aggressively — so not totally out of control, but you can’t complain when he nudges his hips slightly to meet your bounces.

His cock presses beautifully against that spot deep inside of you repeatedly, each bounce and drop in gravity hammering the mushroomed head of his cock against it until your stomach coils painfully. Your impending orgasm makes itself suddenly known, and this one feels much more intense than the others. A pressure in your lower stomach that has your jaw slackening to moan without any shame.

Sukuna watches you through thick lashes, biting down on his lip to stop himself from growling or moaning, perhaps even both. Those hands beneath your thighs have started to slowly shift up until they rest at your hips, and a hand smooths itself over your lower back. And it’s a very subtle warning for what's to come.

A man like Sukuna is undoubtedly strong, made of muscles that were purely for ripping and shredding through people with ease. So it’s hardly a surprise when he bucks up into your hard, enough to plant his feet squarely on the floor before he fucks into you like he’d never get a chance to fuck you again.

You can only squish your chest to his own to save yourself from slamming into him, and his hand on the lower portion of your back holds you there. Pins you to him in a vulnerable position whilst his hips work to thrust his cock hard and deep into your velvety core.

A surprised moan mixed with a yelp is torn from your throat when a hand smooths itself down over your ass before pressing rather unceremoniously into the tight ring of muscle there, it’s not an unwelcome feeling but it still has you panting open-mouthed against the thick muscle of his chest.

The orgasm that was building erupts far too quickly, and all you can do is gasp against his chest with a breathless “‘M gonna— gonna cum, please, please—” You don’t specify what you’re begging for, but Sukuna knows exactly what you’re pleading for.

So he doesn’t let up on the fast and aggressive pace of his hips, snarling into your ear when you clench repeatedly around the length of his cock. The juices that drip from your abused pussy soak him entirely, ruining the material that had gathered beneath the both of you and it only aids in making the slapping noise of his balls against your ass even louder.

His hips only begin to slow once he’s rung out your orgasm until you’re oversensitive, flinching with each pass of his cock against your swollen walls. He lets you settle atop of him, his cock still buried deep inside of you and throbbing with the need to release but he holds himself back, and staves off his own climax.

You nearly purr when a hand finds itself in your hair, long claws scratching delicately at the sweaty scalp there until you’re ready to continue. The twitch of his cock pressed between his stomach and your own has your toes curling, and that small coil in your stomach twists with delight at the fact you’re still not finished.

That hand drifts away from your hair once you reposition yourself atop of him, your hands dragging along the smooth expanse of his chest to settle at his stomach. His body gleams with a sheen coat of sweat, and his lungs expand harshly with each breath he sucks in. It seems fucking you through an explosive orgasm so aggressively took it out of him.

“You’re beautiful,” you find the words slip from your lips so easily, and Sukuna can’t stop the surprise crossing his features. Beautiful, no doubt a word that has never been used to describe him. But you mean it. He looks awfully angelic like this, in a twisted way when a quiet voice whispers in the back of your mind about the atrocities he’s committed.

Yet it’s very easy to ignore that voice, to push it down and silence it. His hair is slicked back with sweat, yet tendrils of it curl around his ears and at the nape of his neck – sticking to the sweat there that continues to roll down his skin in droplets. His eyes are somewhat satiated as if seeing you reach bliss twice was enough for him for the day. His lips are set in a soft line, relaxed.

Truly beautiful.

He parts his lips to speak, maybe even to retort your compliment but you silence the words on his tongue by lifting up from his lap. His cock slips free from your swollen pussy, and it’s enough to make the both of you hiss in tandem.

“Done already?” He questions, a tint of his voice sounding almost disappointed at being left high and dry. Though, you don’t say a thing when you shift your body up onto your knees so you’re hovering over not just the one cock, but the both of them.

As if realising what you were planning, Sukuna wraps a hand around the girth of both of his cocks to help you when you start to lower yourself on both of the tips. Even after the mind-blowing orgasm, it’s still a very tight squeeze. Your face scrunches with the blossoming pain, and you know you should slow down. But that incessant tugging in your heart has your body overpowering your brain, and you lower yourself down… and down.

You only let out a heavy breath when you feel his thighs brush against the inner part of your own, and Sukuna grips your hips much more harshly compared to before. The whooshing of blood in your head is much too loud, and it only makes you feel like your head is submerged beneath water.

“Look at me.” A command, and you obey it wordlessly. You meet Sukuna’s gaze, and he’s staring at you with more care than you’ve ever witnessed. Your heart squeezes again in your chest, and you’re only now realising that it feels like a hand is wrapped around your very heart.

Your own fingers glide along the sweaty expanse of his chest, pressing into the muscle there until you locate the exact position of his heart in his chest. It beats so heavily beneath his skin, thumping against your palm as if it yearns to break free and be held by your gentle hold.

“How do I do it?” You ask in a breathless whisper, you hadn’t made a mutual contract like this before. You simply agreed to lend him your strength when he asked for it, but this time he had offered his own heart to you in exchange.

“Just take it, it’s yours.” He lays his head back against the floor, eyes staring down the bridge of his nose to stare at you. He offers no further guidance, nothing to help you with figuring out how to take a man's heart—figuratively.

He made it seem so simple, as easy as laying his hand against your own chest and wrapping his cursed energy around your heart until it beat for him, and only him. So you follow in his footsteps, your own nails dig into the muscle of his pectoral muscles and he at least notes the discomfort of you digging harshly enough to draw blood.

You feel the tug in your own chest, his cursed energy squirms in your very body until it seizes around your heart and holds it still. Then you force your mind to focus on your own cursed energy, you let it wrap around his own that nestles itself tighter around your heart until the two become one.

It snakes down your veins, from your fingertips and inevitably into his chest. It burns your palm when you press harder, ensuring that the vow is made successfully. Sukuna’s upper lip twitches in discomfort, yet he does not stop you from completing it.

Your hips twitch involuntarily when you feel the familiar embrace of that dark energy that he exudes, it welcomes you so easily. It wraps its cold arms around you and digs into your flesh, pulling you further and further in until you can sense nothing but the man beneath you.

“Take it.” Sukuna hisses through gritted teeth, and you do. You clamp down on his heart, your cursed energy snaps violently into place and Sukuna jerks at the sudden burst of it in his chest. His hands grip your hips harshly, tearing into the flesh without a care in the world and you yourself can’t find it within you to care about the blood that spills from your hips.

Instead, you gasp in his hold, overcome with such an intense feeling of undeniable power. Strength beyond comprehension. Its dark tendrils slither beneath your skin, nestling themselves around your bones until they become a part of you. It doesn’t stop until you accept it, fully.

Something snaps into place and you blink back into reality to find Sukuna staring at you with a wide-eyed expression, something that makes him look so much younger than he really is. You feel his heartbeat beneath the palm of your hand, and it matches the pounding in your ears.

He moves you effortlessly until you’re beneath him, not once breaking his eyes away from you — staring at you as if he’s never quite seen you before. The power that bleeds from him is familiar, it’s welcoming, it’s your own.

The binding vow was complete.

He crowds you into the floor, two large arms caging either side of your head when he hunches down over you. The other arms work to lift your hips up to meet his own, wrapping your legs higher up around his waist before he starts to thrust into you, slowly… as if testing the waters.

The moan that’s punched out of you sounds wounded, not because you were sore from being stretched around two cocks but because your pleasure seems heightened beyond belief. You can feel everything and then some.

One of those hands holding up his weight moves, cupping the side of your face. It always amazed you just how well he manoeuvred himself despite how large of a man he was, he wasn’t as nimble as some but he most definitely moved with a certain type of grace that was undoubtedly him.

His thumb swoops down, pressing just beneath your jaw and tilts your head up slightly to meet his own. The kiss he devours you with is nothing short of consuming, he isn’t gentle with how he keeps his lips pressed tightly to yours when his hips roll once–twice, and then he’s fucking you at a rhythm that has your toes curling sharply.

The coil that had lain dormant in your stomach suddenly sparks back to life, it curls tight in your lower stomach until your thighs seize up and you’re left to clamp around the two sizable cocks shoved deep inside of you. Sukuna groans at that, a shuddering sound that’s expelled against your lips before he returns to your mouth.

His tongue pries you open easily enough, and his tongue is unyielding as he laps at you. Two hands flex at your thighs, long fingers digging into the flesh behind your knees to effortlessly fold you further into the mating press—you can’t help but gasp into his lips, pushing out the last of your breath into his panting mouth.

“Mine,” Sukuna snarls like some feral beast, sharp canines glinting in the shimmering flame from the lanterns dotted around the room. It’s so primal, the way he takes you, the way he folds you nearly in half just to fuck himself deeper into you; to ensure you feel every last inch of him. “Say it.”

He gives a particularly hard thrust with the last word, gritting his teeth at just how tightly you clamp down around him. The hand at your jaw slips down, taking hold of your throat so easily and pinning you to the floor beneath him. He pulls back just slightly, enough so that you can see his face entirely — can see just how much you affect him.

Your answer doesn’t come quick enough, however, as he rolls his hip back smoothly only to fuck into you with much more vigour. The rhythmic wet slapping sound contests against your choked moans, you can feel each time his balls slap against your ass; how heavy they are.

“‘M yours—” You manage to choke past the squeezing of his hand at your throat, the wild glint in his eye is dangerous. A look that you’ve seen before, right before he struck with the goal to kill. “Yours! Yours—fuck!”

Sukuna chuckles breathlessly, sounding no better than yourself. He looks absolutely ruined, sweat dripping along the side of his face, at the back of his neck and along his chest. He looks positively divine, something you want to sink your teeth into. That realisation has you clamping down suddenly, pulling a shameless moan from the man above you.

You’re so close, so fucking close that you can taste it on your tongue. Sukuna can feel it too, his gaze locking with your own before he shifts just slightly onto his knees. And then when he’s truly above you, does he start fucking into you at a much deeper angle. The tip of his cock drags heavily along your g-spot whilst simultaneously ramming itself against your cervix—it’s painful.

But a type of pain that has your toes curling mercilessly, your hand grasps uselessly at the arm closest to you, the one holding you beneath him. You slip your spare hand down along your body, taking advantage of the small gap he’s granted you by wanting to watch you come undone entirely.

Your fingers slip through the mess of curls below, you’re absolutely drenched—beyond wet, a type of wetness that only Sukuna is evidently able to pull from you. You find your clit, swollen and so sensitive that you flinch at the brief contact from your fingers.

Sukuna seems to notice too, his lower set of eyes drifting down to see the way you touch yourself whilst he fucks you with both his cocks. His mouth opens in a wordless groan. You can feel the slickness gathering there when you brush your fingers down along your pussy, to brush your fingers against the sides of his cocks as he continues to fuck you.

It grows increasingly difficult to smoothly roll your fingers over your clit, the stickiness causing your fingers to slip too quickly—sometimes moving away from your clit entirely when Sukuna gives a particularly rough thrust of his hips. He’s fucking you like he needs you to cum, like if you don’t then surely his heart might give out.

Meeting Sukuna’s gaze again, you can’t stop the way you clench around him and in return, Sukuna bares his teeth at you. It’s non-threatening, not quite as lethal as the previous times he did it in the past. Instead, it sends heat shooting down your spine, flaring up in your stomach and it’s impossible to stop the orgasm the second you register it happening.

You moan, head flung back against the tatami mat with a dull thud and your entire body tenses up. The growl that comes from Sukuna is guttural, a deep sound that you can feel vibrate through your very own body from just how loud it is.

His fingers tighten around your throat, and with a gasping breath, you call for him. “Ryomen,” you flinch at the sensitivity of your clit when he throws his hips harsher against your own. “Ryomen, please, please—”

You may not know what you’re begging for exactly, but Sukuna seems to pick up on it flawlessly. His body surges forward, the width of his shoulders hiding you completely beneath him before his lips clash with your own. It’s not much of a kiss with the both of you panting in the other's mouth, and then he snarls—

“You are mine.”

His hips stutter for just a moment before you feel him thicken impossibly further deep inside of you, both of his cocks throbbing and twitching—it sends a painful twinge up your spine before the relief comes. Both of his cocks twitch simultaneously, the pulse releasing a wave of seed deep inside of you. It’s warm, almost unbearably so, yet you relish in the feeling of it.

You feel complete. A contentedness settles deep in your chest and wraps around you in a comforting arm, and all you can do is moan sweetly into Sukuna’s awaiting mouth as he shudders through his orgasm. His hips continue to pump against you, forcing his cum as deep as possible inside of you—claiming you in the most primal way.

The world swirls around you, looming bookcases seeming to grow taller as the lethargy starts to kick in. Sukuna lowers his body slowly down atop you, still refusing to pull out from you but you can already feel the stickiness of his release trickling from around where the two of you joined and ruining the slips of silk beneath you.

The hand at your throat moved at some point, instead coming up to smooth through your hair, peeling it away from your sweaty skin before brushing it further back. It has you leaning into the touch, and you’re sure if you could purr, you would at the tenderness Sukuna is handling you with.

His nose smooths up along your cheek, his breaths coming in deep and heavy before he finds the shell of your ear. “You are mine, as I am yours. Your strength will know no bounds, for as long as you stay at my side.”

A tingling sensation burns at your chest, an itch that you can’t quite reach once his words settle against your ear. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion starting to take its toll on your brain, but his words almost sound like he was completing the binding vow with an additional rule…

‣‣ Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader

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alemi-i · 8 months

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home is with you :

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

# bgc x gn: reader ! ( fluff ) ;

cw : mentions of anxiety , sweetheart christopher , chris is a workaholic ( duh ) , pure fluff , pet names : baby , angst if you blink !!

a/c ; lowkey don’t like this, just wanted to write about chris !! 💌

wc : 439 ?!

your hands trembled in fear. standing in front of chan’s studio, your legs slightly faltered; you knew how much your boyfriend hated to be pestered whilst doing work, but you missed him.

it was nearing midnight and all your calls and texts had been shut away, so you figured to reach him in the way he couldn’t ignore you. you lean your head against the door, but everything is tranquil. you can only listen to the A.C floating in the background. hand hovering on the doorknob, your fingers think faster than you do — wrapping around the handle and swiftly opening the door.

he is there; immersed in his computer, sleeves of his hoodie rolled up, light hung over him, and he is gorgeous. you’re stood awkwardly at the doorway, unwilling to take his attention away from work.

he, however, seemed to notice the change of aura in the air. his head snaps towards you and his heart flutters; you’re wearing his shirt with a jacket layered atop of it. his jacket. his eyes peek over to his phone, reviewing the time: ‘11:49PM’.

the way his eyes softened at you blew all your anxiety away. “channie, i-i’m sorry to interrupt but i miss you.. a lot.” you mumbled, eyes scanning over his features, trying to find any hint of anger — but he smiled. the same smile that made your heart beat louder, faster, and harder.

he sighed, “sorry baby, i’ll be done soon okay?” his feet push against the floor, chair rolling away from the table. “come sit while i finish up.” his voice is tender, and he softly motions towards his lap. you waste no time straddling him, arms wrapped around his neck. you feel his left arm curl around your waist, pulling you closer to him. your head is nuzzled into his neck and a smile creeps up your face. “i love you.” you whisper, you feel his heartbeat on your chest.

“i love you too.” he giggled, and you feel at home. chan’s love washing away the flame of worry in your body, and you feel at home.

a few moments pass before he speaks up again, “sorry i’m working so late.” he murmurs, placing soft kisses on your temple. “let’s go home now, yeah?” he proposed, voice hushed in case you’d fallen asleep.

“‘m already home.” you chimed, arms squeezing him slightly. you can’t see it, but you’re sure he has a stupid dorky smile on his face — you do too.

“you’re such a flirt.” he snickered, lifting you up along with him; your legs wrap around his waist as you feel your eyes power off.

#skz x reader #skz fluff #bang chan x reader #bangchan fluff #skz imagines #lemi’s fics !! 😽

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jinxedmuse · 8 months

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seventeen ot13 reaction + head cannon: if they had a black cat personality type s/o that showed affection (not so) subtly

authors note: hiii! enjoy these quick scenarios i wrote today bcs i realllyyy miss the boys! a lot of these were hard to write but i tried staying true to their personal ideal types + how the members like to receive affection! enjoy :,)

special dt to: @chwecandi mi new amiga! ty 4 being crazy over the boys with me 😭🫂

warnings: none, some kisses here & there but nothing suggestive, should be gender neutral, teeth rotting fluff <3

choi seungcheol: acts of service s/o

scoups knows you aren’t the outwardly affectionate type and respects that but he is such a baby boy :(

as the maknae of his family & yet the eldest + leader of 12 men he NEEDS TO BE TAKEN CARE OF FROM TIME TO TIME (almost all the time) !! he’d be coming home from work exhausted but craving your touch.

you’d give him the quickest peck on the cheek (right on his dimple) before pushing him towards the bathroom.

“why, whyyy, i wanna cuddle!!” he’d complain all pouty :(((

he opens the door and almost cries on the spot. you had prepared him a piping hot water bath with lavender scented epsom salt for any possible soreness and roses for extra hydration. his towel was already hung up as was his robe for when he got out.

he immediately turns back and looks at you like???? why are you the best person ever??? gives you kisses all over your face repeatedly, you tilt your head back trying to dodge some but you secretly loved it.

“okay cheollie get in before it gets cold, choo go away.” you’d complain.

he smiles and starts undressing himself at your order. he gets into the tub and lets out a pleasurable sigh, feeling instantly relaxed. you give a smile at the doorway, happy that your person was content. you’re about to close the door when he suddenly called your name.

“you’re not gonna join me?”

p.s (you joined him ;)

rest of members below!

yoon jeonghan: words of affirmation + acts of service s/o

you and jeonghan enter a new restaurant together. he had been excited, seeing an ad about it a few weeks before it’s opening and wanted to take you but he was too busy to ever make any reservations himself.

so, you had secretly done it yourself to line it up with his free schedule.

“booths or table?” the waiter ask and before jeonghan could answer you spoke up. “table, please.”

jeonghan pouted but followed the lead, heading to your table. “babe, i wanted the booths so i could be closer to you” he said as he sat down on the opposite side of you.

to be honest, you had always found couples who sat in booths up each others asses were frustrating to look at. maybe it’s just because you weren’t the biggest fan of physical touch.

and, today jeonghan had his short black hair styled so that he had slight layers and a bang. he was wearing a black button up with the sleeves rolled up. his black and gold yves saint laurent bracelet fully showing around his slightly veiny arm. you wanted to admire him face to face and the best way to do that was with tables.

so you told him that.

“i wanted you in my direct line of view. you look handsome.” you replied nonchalantly, focusing back on the menu.

he nearly got out his seat to give you a kiss then and there. yoon jeonghan was without a doubt, an insane visual. he was aware of the effect his looks had on people but he was so used to being called: beautiful, pretty etc, especially when he had his longer hair so this felt new. it made his heart flutter.

your words were always so straightforward yet no matter how long you had been dating, they always had an effect on him.

jeonghan put a hand over his heart, making sure it was still beating properly because he could’ve sworn it skipped a beat.

“y/n” he said your name gently, full of love. you looked up, confused at the sudden tone, there was a clear shift in the air that felt way too emotional for you.

“you know how much i love you, right?” he asked. it was a rhetorical question. you knew clear and through, and you had always made sure to let him know as well since too much of physical touch or pda made you slightly uncomfortable.

“i know, i do too.” you replied with a smirk. he was about to speak up once more but the waiter came up to your table, breaking the tension in the air.

hong joshua: gift giving s/o

“ahh babe, this is the third gift you’ve already given me in the last two weeks.” he adorably complained, looking at the new box sitting in front of him.

you pushed his head to the side before pointing at the box. “open it.” you ordered. excited for him to see what would be inside.

he complied, opening up the box and the smile never left his face. it was a perfume making set with customized bottles that had his name on them.

he was practically beaming from ear to ear. eyes almost disappearing as he smiled.

he looked adorable.

you wanted to say it but you always had a problem with cheesy things or just putting your words together in general. so you bought him things, anything he wanted, stuff he looked at for a second; just to see that smile.

joshua turned to embrace you, pulling you into a big hug. you hesitated for a moments before hugging back, hand patting his back slightly awkwardly.

“i really appreciate all this, and you most of all. seriously.”

your heart quite literally skipped a beat but you’d rather eat a 100k scorch level peoper before admitting that.

[a/n: didn’t really mention it but i feel like we all collectively know joshua is 100% the giving type as well >< !!]

wen junhui: quality time s/o

if you were a black cat, wen junhui was an orange one through and through. sure, your boyfriend looked cold but he was a cinnamon role embodied to you and his members.

always finding a new prank to play, new flirting technique he learned on the internet or simply finding any excuse to touch you. it was often overwhelming but you loved him regardless.

jun recently started feeling like he was annoying you, you could tell because whenever he’d be rambling about something he’d cut himself short on his own accord. you’d tell him to continue but he’d simply say it wasn’t important.

it hurt you that he felt that way and you wanted him to know that you didn’t find him annoying. you valued him and his company and didn’t mind if that came along with his constant tricks.

that’s why you called him over your apartment one day after his schedule. he came over, slightly worried because he usually had to make the first move to hang out.

you opened the door and there he was, standing in all his glory. you opened the door wider and he came through, instinctively going in for a hug which you allowed.

“soo..” he started shyly, looking around your apartment.

“what did you plan on doing today?” he asked you, meeting your eyes, searching to see if it would give away what you were scheming.

but you weren’t scheming anything, you simply missed your boyfriend.

“nothing, just missed your presence.” you replied coyly, looking down at your feet before looking back up at him and ohhhh boy was he smiling like a cheshire cat.

you made your way to you living room and flooped down on your couch, he followed behind you and watched you.

you patted the empty seat next to you while looking up at him.

“sit next to me, please.”

that’s all it took for him to practically leap onto the couch, claiming his space next to you. he pulled you into an embrace before settling down and laying his head on your lap.

kwon soonyoung: gift giving + physical touch

you had just left a restaurant with your boyfriend and you were now walking around your favorite secluded park.

you stop in your tracks once you remembered something, “oh right, i have something for you.”

hoshi looks at you, his pink lips forming into a pout. “well this is awkward because i have something for you too.” he’d say.

you pull out the gifs at the same time and you both can’t help but laugh, they were both jewelry boxes.

“ah kwon soonyoung, what am i going to do with you?” you asked teasingly, he’d be so exited like a cute hamster tiger, urging you to open his first.

you open it and sure enough, it’s a ring from the matching couple set the brand had to offer. he’d open yours and it was the necklace/chain version from the same brand.

“i think we’re actually meant to be” he’d say in suchhhh a serious tone it’d make your heart flutter.

“yeah right, as in fate?” you’d say walking away, (after putting on your gifts of course >:( !!), when he’d suddenly tug you back into him.

a warm embrace on a cold winter day, he places a gentle kiss on your head before releasing you and you can’t help but smile.

he truly knew how to make you the shyest person on earth.

jeon wonwoo: words of affirmation? (he talks x you listen) + quality time

jeon wonwoo had a cold and quiet persona but those close to him knew it was all but true.

he was silly, loving when people reacted well to his jokes. he loved learning or reading something new and rushing to tell his loved ones (you) his new learned information, most of all, he loved interactive video games.

he had invited you over about 2 hours ago and you guys were currently sitting on his couch, playing a newly released game side by side.

while you were playing, he had been rambling on about his day. everything from what time he had to wake up, rehearsals, how there was a new makeup artist, comeback concept, and even the last joke hoshi made as they were leaving set.

making sure not to leave anything out even as he concentrated on the game.

it was no longer you turn during the game so while he was wrapping up his story you took a hand and brought it up to his head, petting his hair gently before letting your hand rest at the nape of his neck for a second.

“you’ve been working so hard. you’re doing really well. i’m beyond proud of you woo.” is all you’d say before retreating your hand and picking up your controller once more.

he looked at you, a warm feeling in his stomach. ever since he got with you, he truly learned what (romantic) love was.

“i’m so glad you’re mine.” he’d reply, his cute smile taking over his face before he’d focused back on his game.

[a/n: K!LL ME NOW I WANT HIM SO BAD??\€£\ okay u may continue]

lee jihoon: quality time/physical touch (+ acts of service if u squint)

composer s/o x producer woozi

are you kidding me? this man is head over heels in love with you. and he’s very apparent about that, in his own way.

you guys are both black cats so the whole pda and overally affectionate aspect is out the window but behind closed doors? in the confines of your own houses/studios?

whole different story.

you guys compose and produce music with one or the other on each others lap. gently playing with each others hair, rubbing each others stomach, and sometimes he massages your thigh. nothing inherently sexual about it, he just loves touching you. doesn’t even realize he’s doing it sometimes.

when you’re too busy to see each other he’d ask you to send him a voice note and you would (so confused?) next thing you know he adds it to the beginning or ending of a song he’s working on. adding it to your private mixtape for each other :(

when he’s working too hard, you’d sneak into his studio, keeping him company quietly. you’d place a energy drink and some food by him, patting his hair before giving him a gentle peck on the cheek.

“you’re working hard, take care of yourself as well babe. call me when you’re done, i reserved (seats/tickets/etc) for us around (insert time)”

he’d literally melt???

lee seokmin: acts of service + words of affirmation

you guys are sooooo grumpy x sunshine coded :(((((

oh heavens, he loves u sm like it’s BAD for him??? GET UP DK!

you’d be exiting a restaurant and notice he’s a bit too tall for the walk way door thingy (spare me) so you’d go on your tippy toes and have your hand over it, protecting his head in case he hit himself.

(his heart nearly exploded at the action please let him rest)

it’d be cold outside and he’d have no gloves. you give him one of yours (albeit his hands are wayy bigger) but he’d still be so grateful.

with both your gloveless hands, you’d take them and put them in your pocket. keeping them away from the cold.

(he blushed so bad he litch got warm, give him a warning?)

one day while taking pictures, he didn’t like how any of them turned turned out. you aren’t (really?) on social media so you couldn’t understand the dynamics of the right angle, right lighting and his need to capture the “perfect bf material pic”

whatever that meant??

you let him complain all he wanted but you get annoyed the second he even ATTEMPTS to slander his looks (absolute blasphemy in your books!)

“my (insert body part) makes me look a littl-“ before he can even finish his sentence you cut him off.

“it makes you look too handsome. you’re right, don’t post he pics; i’m not ready to keep sharing my boyfriend with the world.” you’d say in the most seemingly serious tone??? (you were being 100% serious)

he dropped his phone onto the couch, no longer caring about the pictures and pulled you down onto him. the biggest smile on his face as though he won the lottery.

“it hurts how much i love you.” he’d say.

kim mingyu: also acts of service + words of affirmation

husband material gyu 100% loves getting taken care of after (also) having to cook and clean for/after his members who tease him relentlessly (pos i swear!!)

he’d come home sooo tired after a long day of filming content, all he wanted to do was sleep.

you’d be too busy to greet him at the door. in the kitchen, cooking him his favorite comfort meal for the night.

he comes in the kitchen, giving you a back hug as you finished up the last dash.

“i knew i smelled something delicious, my favorite person cooking my favorite meal.”

he attempts to give you a kiss but you had honestly felt stuffy from being in the kitchen so long and your face was kinda sweaty “ahhh gyu noo, at least let me shower first” you’d complain, letting him hug you but pulling your head away.

he’d pout but understand, backing up to give you your space. you’d turn around seeing him pout, God was it adorable but you stood your ground.

“also, the bed is already made and i have some comfortable clothes laid out for you once you’re done eating & your shower.”

he’d smile so lovingly like what did he do to deserve you??? and his heart grows even fonder once you said:

“tell me about your day over dinner, you’ve been doing so much and i’m super proud but i’ve missed you.”

if he worshipped anyone it would 100% be you. you were his knight in shining armoire especially after long days like this.

xu minghao: quality time + acts of service

you guys are adorably in love with each other i’m jealous! he paints you so much (+places you’ve been tg & etc) that he could practically open up a museum of his fondest memories of you.

you weren’t so bad at the art either so one day you decided to surprise him.

you didn’t even hear him once he came home.

“babe?” he’d call out in the cutest voice, looking for you. he needed to recharge and you are 100% his vitamin.

he’d find you in your office working on a painting of??? him??? if his heart could grow any bigger for you it just did.

“wow, i think i’m in love with you?” his voice would startle yo, pulling you out of your train of thoughts while painting.

“oh hey ming” is all you’d say with a timid smile before returning to your work.

“well, i’ll let you finish up” he’d but you almost get whiplash from how fast you turned around.

“no! i have some nido soup i made earlier in the pot. it should be still kinda warm. heat yourself some and pull up a chair next to me.”

(his heart just did a back flip btw)

he smiled ohhhh so beautifully yk that one smile he does when he’s looking at the members fondly? yeah that one ughhh :(

boo seungkwan: words of affirmation

boo is wayyyy more sensitive then he lets on. he needs all the love and support you have to offer because our boy works hard :(

since you can’t see each other often because of all his promotions, you had an idea! a very cheesy one but an idea nonetheless!

you had a heart shaped jar, on it you wrote “for me boo: seungkwan” . inside the jar were 100 exact folded sticky notes filled with things you absolutely adored about him.

small things from how cute he looked when he scrunched up his nose when he laughed to deeper things only the two of you spoke about on late night, reminders that you truly paid attention to him.

now a part of you was physically in pain from this but oh the moment you thought about how happy he would be you didn’t care how sappy it was.

you gave it to his manager to give it to him after one of his shoots. he opened it in the car, reading one was all it took for him to start balling.

he called you right after and immediately planned a date night, suddenly not being able to handle the absence of your presence ;(

(you found out he keeps these with him at all times whenever he needs a pick me up)

chwe vernon hansol: words of affirmation

like big time HELLO SHOWER HIM IN PRAISE FOR THE BEAUTIFUL BOY HE IS ??? (but also don’t overwhelm him!! be the smooooth ass mf ik u are!)

you guys are chilling on his couch, watching his newly released music video. his head on your lap as you played with his ear (which he’s absolutely smitten over but it’s hard for him to admit that)

his part comes up and your heart rate litch goes faster the moment he’s on the screen.

“you look really good in this shot.” you’d say, trying to keep your cool and collected composure.

“oh yeah?” he’d reply. no longer looking at the video but positioning himself to where he’s looking at you.

you continue talking, avoiding eye contact because you know you can’t handle the way he looks up at you with his pretty brown eyes through his long lashes.

“yeah. your voice and your style of rap is cool, it makes me want to constantly rewind just to see it again. i’m proud of all the work you do, i wish you could appreciate yourself the way i do you.”

and ohhhh my?? if you didn’t have his heart before (which you did) you CERTAINLY had it now!

if you picked him up, he’d probably be a pile of mush. to say your words had an effect on him was an understatement.

you as a whole rocked his world. undoubtedly.

lee chan: quality time + acts of service

you entered the practice room quietly, trying not to disturb the younger guy but he immediately turns around. a big smile on his face as soon as he sees you.

“baby, i missed you!” he’d say with the CUTEST face ever might i add???

you smiled and held up both your hands, takeout in one and drinks in the other.

“you’ve been copped up in here almost all day, i got you some stuff.” you’d say. he knew you weren’t trying to baby him although you were older, just worried that you boyfriend hasn’t fed himself properly today.

“i know i know, i have a new choreo i wanna learn for danceology”

you looked at him with fondness, he truly worked so hard. it was nothing but admirable.

“well then don’t mind me, i’ll sit over there” you pointed to in front of the mirror. you wanted a full view of him working his magic.

“you wanna watch me dance?” he’d ask all cutely (yk how when he was a question for one of the older members :(???)

you nodded, small smile on your face and he got sooo excited! he can do something he loves in front of the person he loves and then eat some food he loves???? triple win!

[a/n: he is the cutest ever i Want to bash my head into a wall also thank you so much if you read all i hope i destroyed ur view of parasocial relationships 🙂! stay safe & enjoy ur day/night!!!!! xoxo]

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